#like if your message is just be kind.... you better give me a song and dance to go with it

[theitgirlnetwork]

What Are You Willing To Do?

Ch. 2: Date 1 Pt. 1

Note: Thank you so much for the love you all have been showing this story so far! Thank you for reading, and for the kinds messages I have received thus far! I love interacting and seeing your thoughts and comments so keep 'em coming. I want to take this time to remind you that these characters will be flawed. Rafe is....Rafe, but we love him anyway. And Milan is...someone who is compatible with Rafe. They won't always be the depiction of a healthy relationship, but this is fiction and fun. This chapter isn't too bad, but those who have read the snippet know how it's gonna get. Once again, I have songs for this ship so if anyone is interested in them let me know, and feel free to share some with me if you catch a vibe. Finally, let me know if you have any questions or comments. Other than that, I hope you enjoy. This one is a lot shorter than chapter 1, but it is a 2 parter, so don't hate me. Love ya! <3333

“Wait.”

Rafe pauses, loosening his grip on Milan’s hair and pulling back slightly, irritated that she’d stopped him just as their lips brushed and she breathed the smoke he’d just poured into her mouth between them. “What? What’s up?”

“I don’t,” She sighs, her cool breath on his face, eyes still shut as if she’s forcing herself to pause this moment between them. “I don’t just hook up with guys, you know? Maybe we could…I dunno.”

Oh. Oh. Rafe understands. He’d…he’d forgotten himself for a moment. This isn’t some touron stumbling onto the couch next to him, throwing herself at him. She wasn’t one of those gold digging bitches that tries to fuck  him with faulty condoms in the bottom of her purse. She’s the kind of girl who has her own shit. She doesn’t need him for a come up. Or at least she doesn’t think she does. 

He arrogantly thinks to himself that Milan hasn’t met a man like Rafe Cameron. He’s spent most of his life preparing, becoming the type of man that can run his family, keep them safe and comfortable. The type of son fathers are proud to have and the type of man women want to give a baby. That’s the man who he’s made himself be. 

Rafe had been so focused, only allotting himself time for a little bit of fun once in a while, he’d forgotten that one day he might stumble across a girl that had the potential to be a woman. His woman. 

He nods slowly, a small smile forming on his face as he pulls back more, releasing her head completely and smoothing his hand back onto her knee. “Nah, I get it. We should get to know each other a little better. How ‘bout you spend the day with me tomorrow?”

Milan perches herself up at that, back straightening even more as her face lights up. “Really? You wanna spend the day with me?”

Rafe rests his head back on the top of the couch, sweeping his thumb on her bottom lip before biting his own and nodding. “Yeah, I wanna show you a good time. Get you a little more comfortable with me so I can kiss those pretty lips of yours.”

Both sets.

“Okay, wait, I’m excited. You’re gonna be my first friend here.”

“Friend?” Rafe scoffs. “‘M’not gonna be your friend, Princess.”

“Well,” Milan shrugs, “Like, I don’t know what I could call you, you’re not my man-”

“Yet. Not your man yet.” He and the woman next to him share twin smiles and Rafe only becomes more invigorated by Milan’s eyeroll and shy grin. “Roll your eyes if you want to, I’m a determined guy.” 

“Determined?”

“Yeah, like I know what I like, I work for what I want, so-”

“So what?” Milan giggles, “You…you want me? I should get ready or something?”

“Yeah.” Rafe says flippantly, as if he wasn’t essentially making a threat of courtship to a girl he’d just met like 12 hours before. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d fully wanted from her yet. But the need to have her was nagging at him. Maybe it was lust. She was hot, forbidden fruit for him. He could hear the curses Ward would spit at him now if he fucked around and ruined things with this girl, made an enemy of her dad. Maybe it was how sweet she seems. He’s always liked shiny, new things. When he was a kid, he had to have stuff before his friends did. Toys. Shoes. Stocks. Maybe he’s graduated to feeling that way about women. 

Something about how he doesn’t want to look away. Something about the way she was smiling at him, how he’s talked to her the most, how in a room full of guys drooling over her, those big pretty eyes were locked on him. Rafe felt like he had to look into this weird feeling she’s been stirring in his chest since he’d seen her. 

It’s what’s best for Milan anyway. None of the rest of these limp dick motherfuckers should have her. They’re not real men. Not like Rafe.

Milan hums as she removes the golden under eye patches from under her eyes, massaging in the serum they leave atop of her skin. Grimacing at a gust of damp wind from outside she pads against the marble floor of her bathroom and pushes the double doors leading to the patio attached closed. “Stupid, island humidity.” She pouts as she combs through her bob again, praying for no puffiness today.

The sky fights to brighten in the early morning. It’s 5:00 a.m. and Rafe Cameron was going to be picking her up in 30 minutes. 

After the party last night Sarah had run over to her on the front lawn, hugging her tightly before declaring she was going home with John B. and offering for Milan to come with them. When she declines with a smile, the blonde fixes her brother with a glare, to which he’d returned with a middle finger, and stumbled off in her man’s arms. 

Rafe drove Milan back to her house and parked them out front, eyes carefully rotating between staring at Milan sitting pretty in his passenger seat, and watching for a sign of her father at the door. He let her toy with his fingers as she fluttered her lashes at him and he described what he does throughout the day, Or, rather, what they’d be doing today.

When he’d mentioned picking her up after the gym Milan had jumped at the opportunity to go with him. She loved going to the gym every morning before she’d moved and she was happy to keep it going. And it wouldn’t hurt to see Rafe work out. 

It was all she could think about. It’s not just his height. Even though he’s so…so tall. At least 6’2. Rafe is big. Muscle. Strength. Yesterday he’d basically hoisted her full weight into his truck with one arm. The preppy boy polo that he’d thrown on for their families hadn’t hidden anything and his tight crew neck that he wore to the party basically outlined everything for her. 

She quite literally wanted him to throw her around like a ragdoll. Or let her climb him like a tree. Whatever, Rafe is hot. 

He has an intense vibe, seemingly takes himself very seriously. But, Milan figures she could relax him. Loosen him up a little bit. 

They were gonna have so much fun. Smiling at her own reflection in the mirror, Milan spritzes vanilla Sol de Janeiro and all but fucking skips down the steps and to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Milan, you’re awake early. I just started prepping for breakfast, but I could make you a coffee while you wait.” The private chef that her parents had hired a couple years ago had made the move with them. They’d paid for her to come with them to Outer Banks and offered to increase her salary because…well…it wasn’t their nice home in Quebec that she was used to. 

“No, thank you, Miss Ally.” Milan reaches over, stealing a newly washed strawberry and biting into it. “And my parents aren’t awake, right?”

“Of course not. You know your mother won’t roll out of bed until she smells the food cooking and your dad won’t come until I’ve had to warm it up twice. Why? Are you alright, honey?”

The younger woman nods, tossing the green stem into the trash and reaching for two travel cups. “Can you keep a secret? I have, like, a date today.” 

“Like a date?”

“Yeah, with a guy. He’s really cute, and sweet. So,” Milan begins sifting matcha, smiling down at the cup and resting her cheek on her shoulder. “‘M’gonna hang out with him today.”

“Less than 48 hours and there’s a boy, huh? Atta girl.” Miss Ally passes Milan the vanilla protein powder. “You’ve been worried about the move, thinking it was a bad idea, and here you are making friends.”

“Mhm, hot ones. With blue eyes and dimples.”

“And where,” Ally nudges Milan out of the way as she pours the hot water into the travel mug, “am I supposed to tell your parents you are when you’re out with Mr. Blue Eyes and Dimples?” 

“Touring the island.” She chirps. 

“With who?”

“Just like…generally. They should be cool with it honestly, I just know they’re gonna make it weird, but like, he’s the son of Dad’s first friend here so he shouldn’t be mad. How come he gets a boyfriend and I don’t?”

“Oh, just say that to your parents, I’m sure they’ll go for it then.” Ally snorts, whisking the eggs as Milan seals the travel mugs, laughing to herself as the girl slides both of the pink cups to the end of the counter next to her gym bag.

When Rafe pulls up outside of the Cabot house, he texts Milan before hopping out of his truck and jogging up the cobblestone. He agreed not to ring the doorbell because her parents were awake but he’d be damned if he didn’t pick her up at the door. 

As he stands on at the doorstep he adjusts the hat he has rested on his head and rocks on his feet impatiently. He isn’t waiting long. The door swings open and he’s immediately hit with the sweet smell of vanilla and soon after is met with the walking wet dream carrying the scent. 

“Good morning!” Milan grins, tossing her arms around his neck, bouncing up into his arms. Rafe isn’t fucking stupid, he’s quick to catch her around the waist and squeeze, relishing in the feeling of her pressed against him. 

“Morning, princess.” he murmurs into her hair, squeezing her again for good measure before placing her back on her feet.  “You, uh, you always go to the gym in shit like that?”

“Shit like what? Stop.” she laughs as he snaps the elastic of her leggings. 

“You just look good. That’s all I’m sayin’.” He chews the gum in his mouth and nudges her chin with his knuckle, mumbling, “Watch your mouth.”

“Yeah? Thank you.” she grins, looking away from him briefly. “I made…I made you something, like a gym drink or whatever.

“That’s cute sweetheart, what do you like me or somethin’?” Rafe snorts, choosing to ignore the fact that the travel mug she was pushing into his hands was bubble gum pink. He holds his hand out to her, not even looking back as he starts guiding her over to his truck. When he hears a little shuffle from her he looks back and glances down at her feet. “What the fuck, your shoes aren’t tied.”

“Okay, one of them untied when I was making you this delicious protein shake and I didn’t wanna make you wait-” 

“Christ.” Rafe grunts, unlocking his car and wrenching the door open, planting his hands on Milan’s waist and hoisting her into the seat easily. He tugs her foot onto his lap and begins tying the lace of her sneaker tightly. “Gonna break your fuckin’ neck.”

“I wasn’t gonna fall, Rafe-”

“You literally were letting me drag you down those steps.” When he’s done Rafe lifts her leg into the car, closing the door and walking around the driver’s side and climbing in. After he clicks his seatbelt on, he pauses and frowns when he sees Milan’s pout staring forward at the road. He puffs out a breath. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t said ‘thank you’. For your drink.” 

“Wh-are you serious?”

“Yes. You seriously haven’t said ‘thank you.’” 

“Uh…” Rafe’s brows furrow as he observes the girl. Arms crossed, dramatic frown on her pretty, glossed lips, knees pointed away from him. “Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she immediately warms up, clicking her own seatbelt on and taking a sip of her drink, moving back to the middle of her seat. As Rafe tries to sort through what quick, guerilla warfare he’d just experienced, he starts driving the car. 

So that’s her game. She’s cute and pretty and pouts like a fuckin’ brat when she doesn’t feel like she’s getting what she wants. Or someone is saying something she doesn’t wanna hear. All she’s showing me is that I’m exactly what she needs.

“M’just sayin’ like your shirt’s a little slutty. Like it’s tight, I can see your nipples and everything.”

“Don’t say shit like that, what the fuck?” 

“It’s like tight and stuff, like it’s a little bit of a hoochie shirt.” 

“Hoo-hoochie shirt. Fuckin’ brat.” Rafe shakes his head. In the time it’s taken to drive to the gym and for Rafe to put his card down to get Milan a temporary membership, she’d clearly been trying to test him. She was pushing boundaries to see what he would and wouldn’t accept. And he would try to be patient. But the jokes weren’t gonna be as funny when he was using her mouth for what he really wanted to use it for. Not now. He had to wait. To humor her. She was cute. He’d give her that. Maybe he needed to be cute back. “Don’t work out in the damn shirt anyway,” 

Milan’s eyes widen as she stares up at Rafe from where she’s stretching on the floor. She bites her lip and shifts her gaze to herself in the mirror as he easily tugs the tight shirt off of his chiseled muscles, tossing it into his gym bag next to her. 

Jesus. She bites her lip, berating herself inwardly as she glances at the tanned skin he was now baring for the world to see, six pack on display as he starts doing some standing stretches. “Here, sweetheart.” Rafe crouches next to her, pushing one of his airpods into her ear. “You, uh, didn’t have headphones, so you can just listen to my shit.”

“Can we make a spotify jam?”

“What?”

“So, I can add songs too, can we make a jam? And we’d be listening to the same thing, at the same time, you know?”

“I mean, yeah, sure why the fuck not? You’re not gonna add any corny shit are you? M’trustin’ you with my workout. Like that’s pretty fuckin’ special.”

“Oh my God, Rafe, I’m…I’m sure we have basically the same taste in music.”

Rafe and Milan are at war for essentially their whole warm up. They agree to separate for cardio and then meet back up for them both to try some of each other’s usual workouts. With the shared music blasting in their ears, they both still felt like they were hanging out for the 40 minutes that they are apart. Rafe spent half of his run on the treadmill listening to Beyoncé and Sabrina Carpenter’s discographies while Milan genuinely flinched on the stairmaster with Travis Scott and 50 Cent pounding against her ear drums. Both of them looking at each other with sick satisfaction when it was their turn to pick a song, making a game out of picking something they thought would irritate the other more. 

Rafe had finally had enough and started skipping Milan’s picks when the High School Musical Soundtrack started playing, eventually coming to pluck her off of her machine to start doing weights as Troy began singing about wanting his own dream. 

By now they’d both finished their protein shakes and felt like they had a lot of energy. Well, at least they both did. Until Rafe started making Milan do his workouts.

She was both turned on and enraged as he demonstrates different forms of weightlifting, chuckling at her deeply as she struggles to do another set. “Mmkay, okay, that’s enough, I’m done with that.”

“Nah, you didn’t even finish that one, c’mon let’s go.”

“Rafe, no” she whines getting off of the bench. Milan immediately gasps as Rafe fists the fabric at the front of her leggings, lifting her off of her feet and physically placing her back onto the equipment. 

Slapping her thigh, he offers her a no-nonsense look that lets her know that she isn’t getting up until she completes this workout to his satisfaction. “Baby, let’s go, stop fuckin’ around.”

Shit. Yes sir. “I want…breakfast food after this. Like, waffles, and butter and stuff.”

“'Let me come to the gym with you, Rafe. I wanna where my cute little outfit and not workout.'”

“Asshole.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Wait…until we start doing my pilates workout. All those muscles will mean…nothing.”

“Yeah, you like ‘em?” He smirks, grabbing the weight to ease it down against her before helping her off. “That your excuse? Can’t focus?”

“Stop…being mean, worst date ever.” She whines, leaning her head against his chest. 

Rafe pats Milan’s ass twice before nudging her into the direction of the next machine. "Best fuckin' date of your life, brat."

“Are you gonna keep staring at my butt or are you gonna try again?” Milan calls over to Rafe. 

“My body is not built for that girly shit. You keep goin’ though.” He says. Milan rolls her eyes and continues on the machine, pausing when she sees the reflection of a camera flash in the mirror. “Damn, flash was on.”

“Rafe!”

“You look good, baby. I thought you’d like me to be all sentimental and shit, capture our first date.”

“Oh my God. You’re like, not even working out at this point.”

He shrugs, tilting his head to get a better view of her. “You’re the one who got an attitude when that girl asked me to spot her and made us change floors.

“She saw you with me.” Milan hisses through her teeth, pausing her movements. “She was trying to be funny.” 

“Think so?” Rafe scoffs, squirting water into his mouth from the bottle he’d kept in his bag. 

“Yeah, but if you liked the attention you could go back down.”

Rafe wets his bottom lip at that. Being at the gym with Milan has been fun. Turns out, he likes talking to her, which is more than what he could say for the majority of the population. She’s sexy, and doesn’t mind him being handsy. She seemed to all but expect him to pat her ass in encouragement after she finishes anything. She likes for him to teach her, guide her movements, place her on and off of machines. She likes to whine and have him sort her out. And she’s possessive. Jealous. Normally the concept of having someone police him sounds emasculating and unacceptable to Rafe. But watching her pretty little face turn into a scowl as she watched girls check him out or come up to him like they always did in the gym? It turned him on bad. 

She matched his crazy. It didn’t matter that it was their first date, the same way Rafe’s lip curled in disgust as he caught the fuckheads wandering the gym eyeing her before he stepped in their line of vision, Milan would physically place herself in front of his view, guiding his eyes to her and away from any girl delusional enough to think they were as bad as her.

But her mouth when she’s frustrated. That was something Rafe was gonna have to work on. Lucky for the both of them, a stern warning seemed to be enough for now. Rafe stalks over to where she’s sitting, stepping on the machine behind her and wrapping his hand loosely around her neck, pushing the back of her head to rest on the front of his stomach. Milan looks up at him through her lashes, as he pushes his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her mouth and squirting a little water in from his water bottle. He fixes her with a disapproving look. “Chill out. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“I followed you up here, right?”

“Yeah.” she says softly, leaning into his hand.

“Alright then. Let’s not worry about the wrong things.”

After 3 hours at the gym the two of them hit the showers, separately despite both of their hesitation to separate again. They walk out of the building in different clothes and Rafe’s arm strewn over Milan’s shoulder, holding her hand where it came up to meet his own. He has to hide his smirk when he catches her making eye contact with the girl who’d asked Rafe to spot her as they walked out, a bright smile on her face. 

He was starting to like this pretty little thing more and more. Rafe lifts her back into the car, this time buckling her seatbelt for her before getting into the driver’s side. He finds that Milan can talk…a lot. She has jumped from topic to topic in the 15 minute drive more than Rafe thinks he can in 2 hours. He’s surprised to find he doesn’t find her annoying. Rafe finds his cheeks dimpling as he listens to her yap about her favorite tv shows, a movie she wants him to watch, her plans for her next nails set and thinking about getting highlights in her hair.

All the while she rubs his bicep, leaning into him as he holds her thigh in his large hand. He offers her small mumbles of acknowledgement to let her know he’s still listening. ‘Hm.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Sound’s good, baby.’ 

“You’re not listening to me.” she sighs, looking out the window as they pull into the restaurant. “M’talkin’ too much.”

“Nah, I like that shit. I’d let you know if I’d had enough.” Rafe places his hand on the back of her headrest as he backs into the spot. “But, uh, my head’s always movin’ right? I’m thinkin’ while I listen.”

Milan watches as he shifts gears and places his truck in the middle of two spots, declaring under his breath he doesn’t want anyone ‘fuckin’ up his truck’ to justify taking up two spots. “So…okay. What’re you, like, thinking about? While you’re listening to me.”

“Uh, honestly?” He asks. Intense blue eyes rest on soft brown ones. Milan just nods, turning more toward him. “How fuckin’ hot you are. Pretty fuckin’ distracting.”

“Oh.” She says.

“Yeah. Oh. Does that throw you off or something, like, oh is a weird response-”

“No, I was just saying oh, like-”

“Okay, because, I’m being pretty fuckin’ clear and you’re-”

Milan unclips her seatbelt quickly. Before Rafe can blink her soft lips are pressed against his and before he can kiss her back she’s back in her seat, pulling down the mirror and fumbling in her purse for her lipgloss. “I wasn’t supposed to kiss you until our first date was over. I can’t believe I did that. Oh my God.” Rafe chuckles lowly as she fumbles in her purse, dropping it and spilling its contents all over her lap and the floor of the car. “Oh my God.”

“Did you, uh,” He pauses, trying not to openly bark out a laugh at her, scratching his head. “Did you only bring lip gloss and perfume? Like, no wallet. At all.”

“Okay…” Milan starts slowly, “I understand that looks bad, and like, people believe in that 50-50 stuff now, and so I shouldn’t-”

“Baby, the fuck do I look like? I wouldn’t be taking you out if I couldn’t afford to, I’m not a fuckin’ pogue.”

“A what?”

“Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about that fuckin’ peck, that wasn’t a real kiss.” It shocks her how easy it is for Rafe to scoot his chair back and pull her into his lap. “This is the shit you should worry about.”

Rafe Cameron pulls Milan Cabot into the nastiest kiss that either of them had ever fantasized about, let alone experienced. He holds her jaw, working his own open as he pushes his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her whimpers and humming against her. He separates their mouths briefly to kiss down her neck only to drag back up to her lips, chuckling darkly when she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, gripping her thigh with his free hand as he drools into her open mouth. 

When he pulls away for the final time he rests his head back on the headrest, pushing his thumb into her mouth and releasing a breath as he watches her obediently suck on it. 

By the time they step out of the car to head into the nice breakfast restaurant he’d brought her to, Rafe had willed his…friend to go down, and they had undone the damage he’d done to Milan’s makeup and hair. As he guided her in by the waist, tugging down the hem of her pretty little dress to cover the ass he’d just been gripping he felt a feeling of superiority. The woman next to him was relying on him and him alone to lead her around. All the loser fuckers they passed on the way to their table could stare all they wanted. They could take a mental picture and store it away in their sick little spank banks for later until they came to the realization they’d never get a girl like Milan and finally blew their fucking brains out. But she was here with Rafe. And that’s how he expected it to be from here on out.

He’d decided. She was gonna be his.

[thehours2002]

Omg I felt SO crazy seeing everyone rave about EEAAO because after watching it my main reaction was ‘huh’. I mean it had way too much going on and also the blatant homophobia was such low hanging fruit which irritated me but it’s like no one else picked up on it?! Idk I too was excited something fun and intriguing and grand from a non marvel entity with—Asian Americans at the helm no less—but it reminded me of Eternals which wasn’t good either but had a lot of critique brushed off with ‘it has important rep therefore it’s good’ which. Like no. Obviously all the racist ‘critique’ about this film is inane bullshit but I wish people who actually cared tried to think past the rep=job done thing and actually get to the meat and potatoes of what they’re watching and engage with that on a critical level because that’s how the good shit actually gets made. Sorry for the essay but I just rewatched it for class and can’t stop thinking about how shoddily plotted and executed the emotional crux of it was. Like Michelle Yeoh and Stephanie Hsu did their best with the material but they really deserved so much better!

solidarity! didn't watch eternals but i agree with your main points that eeaao had some really weird homophobia in it for a film that centers around a mother's acceptance of her lesbian daughter. it especially pissed me off that the stupid hot dog fingers gag was in the one timeline where jamie lee curtis and michel yeoh were lovers... and for what. then for key that unlocks the puzzle to be just "be kind" was really unsatisfying for me. if anybody saw black no more at playwrights horizons it reminded me of the big message reveal moment literally being the lights illuminated in the house and the protagonist essentially saying "don't hate." and, like, as i've said before these are not bad messages, but they're ones i find generally uninteresting.

anyway, i'm just glad this film did well so that we can hopefully get more mainstream movies that tell aapi stories that are actually good.

[rememberwren]

Skin Deep

Tattoo artist!Simon x fem!reader. Reader, looking to expand her horizons, gets her first tattoo from Simon. 8.4k. Features: soft!Simon who is bad at people-ing, vaginal sex, lots of nipples, like at least three nipples, poor writing, abrupt transitions, shy and awkward reader. Based on this post.

Sequel here.

-

“I bit the bullet!” you shout over the music, hand cupped around your friend’s ear to be better heard. She shrieks in delight at the sound of your voice, turning to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you close to her swaying body. Many eyes in the club follow her movements. She has always been the wild child to your wallflower, attracting attention wherever she goes.

“You bit what?” she shouts back, her breath like a mint julep. 

“The bullet,” you laugh. “I called that guy you recommended and set up an appointment. For the tattoo I wanted!” 

She stares at you blankly. Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place. The longer she stares, the more nervous you grow. She’d been so encouraging after your last boyfriend dumped you—encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone, to ‘make more mistakes’, to live life more fully. Now she’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head and it’s the one doing the talking. 

“What guy I recommended?” she asks. 

“Kevin!”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?” 

You frown. “You said you went to Kevin.” 

“It wasn’t a recommendation, sweetie, if anything it was to caution you away from him! He’s a creep; there’s a reason why I never went back.” 

You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily. It’s not just the tattoo. It’s the icing on a shitcake of a day. 

A new song seamlessly starts, and the dancers nearby go wild with excitement. Your mood is the antithesis of the event; everyone seems to be having a great time except for you. Story of your life. 

“You conveniently left that out. Ugh. I’ll cancel it. What am I even fucking doing—thank you—” you accept the cup of ice water the bartender slides in front of you with a shy smile, sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively. “—none of this is like me.” 

Your friend frowns. She steals your drink and sips at it. “You were the one who said you’d always wanted a tattoo. You’re an adult. These are exactly the kinds of decisions you’re old enough to make. Look, fuck Kevin. All my friends hate Kevin. I know another guy, and he’s highly recommended. Let me give you his number. Alright?” 

“Alright,” you sigh. You make a silent promise to yourself though: if it doesn’t work out with this next tattoo artist, then you won’t be getting one at all. You’ll take it as a sign from the universe to get back in your comfort zone and stay there, once and for all. 

-

What kind of a moniker is Ghost? you wonder to yourself as you skim the Instagram of the shop this Ghost owns. The profile picture is one of the building itself, and all of the pictures are of various inked body parts. Beautiful ones, admittedly. But no hint of the mysterious figure who owns the shop. There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it. 

The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail. You let out a shaky breath. Fuck, you hate voicemail. Talking to people was difficult enough; talking to people’s disembodied machines was even worse somehow. It isn’t until you’ve hung up after leaving your message that you realize you forgot to tell him your fucking name (genius!). Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand rings—and it’s him. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m free Wednesdays for consultations,” says a baritone voice from the other end of the line. 

Nice to talk to you too, you think dryly. Maybe this guy is as bad at the phone as you are. “I work Wednesdays. Are you free in the evenings?” 

He sighs, like this is going to be very strenuous for him. 

“Name a time. I’ll pencil you in. Half is due at the end of the consultation upon booking an appointment. Cash only,” he says. 

Jesus Christ, could he be anymore abrupt? While a tiny part of you is grateful that he isn’t trying to make small talk, a larger part is terrified that you’ve already made an impression so foul that it’s incurred his wrath. What other reason could he have for being so stilted? 

“Alright,” you answer cautiously. “How’s five?” 

“Five. Don’t be late.” 

He hangs up on you, leaving you wondering why every step outside your comfort zone must be so bloody far.

-

You arrive early to the consultation, only to find that the building itself—a tidy little brick two-floor, adorned with a sign that dubbed it SKIN DEEP tattoos & artisan piercings, which you recognize from Instagram—is locked. A note written in neat handwriting taped to the door declares NO WALK INS. Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on your work slacks, but it doesn’t help. How are you supposed to get in? 

All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered. A black surgical mask is tucked up over his mouth and nose, which only adds to his intimidating aura. Judging by the impressive sleeve of tattoos he has, you imagine that this is the guy. 

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost. 

Dark brown eyes stare down at you when he opens the door, cocking a hip against the frame, staring at you. Waiting. 

Waiting for you to explain your presence, you realize. 

“I have a consultation,” you blurt out. “At…five?”

He opens the door wider to let you pass without a word. He’s so broad that you can smell him as you pass him: clean and masculine. The inside of the tattoo shop is bigger than it looks on the outside. There is a reception area with a desk and a computer and printer. The glossy wooden floors are polished to shine, leading to an open floor plan. There is a small sitting area with armchairs, a wide sofa, and a table on which rests two bottles of water, a notebook, and a steaming mug of liquid.

“Sit,” he says, his voice the same deep rumble you recognize from the phone. He chooses the chair beside the mug. His body is so goddamn long, his legs lean and thick all at once where he stretches them out in front of him. He reaches for the mug and takes a sip—of tea, judging by the smell. “Name?”

You tell him, perching yourself anxiously on the other chair. He glances up at you, eyes raking over your posture. Suddenly he tugs the mask down to rest beneath his chin, revealing a full, pale mouth. A straight, noble nose. A pink scar stretches across his lips and up towards his cheek. 

“The water is for you,” he says. 

“Oh!” You reach forward and take one bottle, breaking the seal. “Thank you.”

“This is your first tattoo.” 

“What gave me away?” you ask with a weak laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh. “Everything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.” 

“What? No, of course not. I want this, I’m just, I’m an anxious personality. I promise.” You hesitate and then add: “I probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.” 

His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you. Why had you mentioned to him that you showered? What was wrong with you? Just as you’re comprising a list of things, he picks up the pencil and the notebook, opening to a fresh page.

 He asks what you want and God, that’s a harder question. 

You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly. His pencil scratches rapidly at the paper as he listens in total silence—pausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair. 

He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing. 

He asks a few pointed, concise questions (and you’re just thrilled he was actually listening), following your answers up with more scribbling in his notebook. At length, he shuts the book. 

“I think I see the vision. Give me thirty to sketch something and we’ll see if you want to book an appointment. Something this size, on your sternum could take more than one session, depending on how well you sit. How do you take pain?” 

“I mean, it hurts?” you offer. 

He stares. “Two sessions. Let me sketch something. Drink your water.” 

You think that maybe he’ll move to another room to sketch, but he just flips to a clean page and begins to work right there (drawing the mask up over his nose and mouth again). With nothing else to do, you can’t help but watch him. 

He’s handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. It’s almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm. You pick up your phone, determined not to look at him again. 

“Here.” 

You glance up from your mindless scrolling. What he shows you is a beautiful rendition of what you had expressed wanting. There are a few key differences, and he patiently explains why he made the decisions he did. He didn’t make the changes because he thought your idea was stupid. He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean. 

His thoughtfulness touches you. 

“I love it. I want it,” you say, enthusiasm getting the better of you. 

“This is just a first sketch,” he says dryly, making that warmth return to your face. “I’ll text you a few variations this week, and we can nail down the final piece. You want to book?” 

“Yes,” you say, nearly buzzing. “I really want to book.”

He’s expensive—but judging by the book of his artwork that is available for you to flip through at the front desk while he quotes you a price and writes you up a receipt, he is more than worth the money. Fuck, he’s got skill. You thought that maybe his art style was too dark for what you wanted, but you found that he was able to adapt styles nicely. You just hoped this tattoo wouldn’t bore him to death. 

“Thanks again for meeting with me,” you say as he sees you out. “I’ll be waiting for your text.” 

“You’ll get it.” He glances past you out the window. It’s dark. “Did you walk?” 

“No, my car is just there.”

“I’ll wait.” 

And he does. His figure darkens the doorway until you have shut your car and locked the doors, temporary insanity making you give him a short wave. He raises two fingers and then disappears. 

-

You didn’t tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend. 

GHOST? Cute? I’ve never even seen his face lol. He’s always wearing one of his masks. 

You chew over this information. Yes he’d been wearing a mask, but he’d lowered it for you. Did that mean something? Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something?  

Masks are cute, you say. 

Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

You’re terrible. 

You’re…thinking about it. 

-

Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. It’s from GHOST. 

The two images he sends are beautiful; enough to rouse you straight from sleep into wakefulness. 

I love them both, you tell him. But the second one is amazing. I think that’s the one. 

Keep your appointment. Ten minutes later (after you have already fallen back to sleep) he sends: wear something appropriate.  

And fuck, you didn’t even think of that. 

-

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mutter to yourself in the mirror, turning sideways to assess yourself. On the bed behind you are a series of button up shirts, all of which you have tried on at one point or another. 

“You are,” your friend agrees from where she lounges on your bed, scrolling on her phone. “Your tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.” 

The look you give her is the one the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was modeled after, surely. She doesn’t even see it, so the effect is lost entirely. You turn your gaze back to the silicone nipple adhesive covers again, still stuck to their adhesive backing. You’ve already used one set of the pack of three, and they covered your nipple and areolas nicely, but still left you feeling so exposed. 

“Be glad you’re not going to creepy Kevin anymore,” your friend says.

“Very glad of it.” 

You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a word—it didn’t embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions. 

“You should text him about it, see if he has any advice for you. He’s been doing this for years. I’m sure he’s seen it all,” she says—the first good idea she’s had all night, miles ahead of ‘Just let Ghost see your cute tits’. 

That night, you take her advice and text him, hoping you aren’t overstepping some weird artist-client boundary. 

I’m a little nervous.

You can cancel, is all he says. I’ll refund your money.

It’s not that. 

What is it? 

Not really accustomed to the nakedness tbh. There. You said it. Let him think you some prim priss; it was true. 

But all he said back was: how can I help?  

I don’t know, you admit. Then; sorry. I’m probably bothering you with this while you’re working. 

I’m not working. Five minutes later, when it seems as if you aren’t going to message back: I keep the shop closed to the public. One customer at a time: you. I’ll let my piercer know I’m with a client and not to walk in. I’ll keep you covered every moment I can. Better? 

Relief, warm and sweet curling low in your belly, you let him know: much better. 

-

You bring the pasties anyway. 

-

The day of your appointment, you are so nervous you are shaking. Now you know the truth behind the phrase ‘knees knocking together’, as you stand outside SKIN DEEP waiting for Ghost’s hulking figure to appear on the other side of the glass. 

When it does, he’s like a little punch to the gut. That black surgical mask is in place—typical for him, if your friend’s words are to be trusted—but his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasn’t been able to keep his hands out of it. His black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit him nicely around his thick thighs. 

You’re horrified to find that your attraction to him has grown. Exponentially. Your friend’s words echo in your mind—fuck the tattoo artist, maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

“Hi,” you squeak. 

Ghost raises both his brows. He opens the door wider for you to slip past him. Fuck he still smells good.

“I’m still nervous,” you blurt out, hoping that speaking the truth out loud will help you feel better. It doesn’t. 

“That’s normal. You can back out at any time, but the earlier the better. Come look at the image and tell me if it’s still what you want.”

It’s exactly what you want, and more. 

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented.” 

He huffs a little, like you shouldn’t have said such a thing. 

The chair is a great leather contraption which reclines comfortably once he’s gotten you in it (after making you use the restroom first, during which you took the time to splash water on your burning face and double check that your pasties were in place covering all the cutest bits according to your friend). Simon moves around you, making preparations with the ease of someone who has done this work for many years. 

You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. There’s just something about a person who knows exactly what they’re doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.

“Ready?” he asks at length. 

You nod, hoping your nerves don’t show on your face. Steeling yourself, you unbutton the shirt you’re wearing. His eyes follow your hands, but there is a detached, clinical sort of expression in them. He’s not watching a strip tease, he’s looking at a canvas. 

Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes. Without missing a beat, he leans the chair all the way back. Then he opens a fresh disposable razor and shaves you. 

“Am I hairy?” you ask, resting your hands oh-so-casually over your breasts to keep them out of his way. 

“Yes,” he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. “Everyone is. Everywhere. It’s normal.”

“I’m just teasing you.” 

“Didn’t think you had the breath in your body left to tease me,” he mutters, voice nearly lost behind his mask as he carefully works the razor across your skin removing the baby-fine hairs from beneath your breasts and across your sternum. “You’re nervous, I mean.” 

“Would you take the mask off?” you ask on a whim. It had helped last time, to see his face. 

“No,” he says. He adds: “Sorry. It’s more sanitary f’you if I keep it on.” 

You get the feeling that he really is sorry—and that’s well enough. Some of the anxiety in your belly fades away. He would take it off if he could. The most anxious part of the process (baring yourself to a stranger) has already passed. Maybe now you can begin to relax. 

After cleaning your skin, he carefully lays the stencil and has you stand up to look at it in the mirror and make sure the placement is correct and holy fucking shit. It’s sexy. You’ve always been attracted to tattoos, and fancied the idea of getting one on your sternum for far longer than you’d ever admitted to anyone, but seeing it come to life gives you a rush you hadn’t expected. You feel so…badass. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Very good,” you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do. He leans you back again and this time breaks out the needle gun.

But before he uses it on you, he carefully takes a clean towel and lays it over your left breast, covering the parts of you that are not nearest to his eyes. His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt. 

“Thank you,” you say softly. 

He just nods. The gun buzzes to life. “I’ll make a line and see how you feel. Last chance to back out without any souvenirs.” 

“I’m not backing out.” 

He clicks his tongue as if to say, It’s your funeral. Then he lays his hand on your sternum above your breasts, pinning you in place, and makes a gentle line. 

It burns more than you expected it to. There’s a sandpaper quality to it, almost like the rasping of a cat’s tongue. The pain is sharp and bright, but it isn’t overwhelming. In fact…a strange part of you sort of enjoys it. Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Good,” you squeak. 

You hear his quiet laugh, no more than an exhale of breath.

“Let me know when you need to break.” 

You don’t know how you feel about the way he phrases that: when you need to break. He adjusts his mask a little, leans over you, and gets to work. Sometimes the needles pass over a place that is more sensitive than the others, making you flinch. He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you. He is very careful not to brush against your breast when he wipes away the excess ink and traces of blood, but you feel hyper-attuned to how easy it would be for him if he wanted to. How huge his hand is compared to your tit. Beneath the pasties, your nipples ache with tension, a tension that is mirrored between your legs. 

“Alright. Break,” he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. “Take ten.”

He disposes of his gloves and disappears behind a curtain in the back, leaving you throbbing between the legs. Worming your phone free from your pocket, you scroll aimlessly, hoping to calm your raging hormones. He returns right at the ten minute mark, just as his cellphone rings. He glances toward where it rests on the table, but makes no move to answer it. 

“Do you need to get that?” you ask, offering him an out.

“No,” he says. “I make everyone leave a message. Weeds out the cowards.”

It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it. He gloves back up. 

“Good for more?”

And so it repeats. 

At one point, he runs into a patch of sensitive skin on your ribs just overlaying the bone. It has you sucking in a breath through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. It’s too late to turn back now you tell yourself; the only way out is through. 

His thumb gently strokes your sternum. 

“It’s rough. You can take it,” he says, quiet and focused. The buzzing of the gun never ceases as he tries to make his work as quick as possible, his words a little distant and distracted. “Just keep breathing. That’s it. Good girl.”

Jesus. Did he not have any idea what those words could do to a girl? A groan escapes your lips, and he clearly mistakes it for pain, because his thumb strokes again the soft skin over your heart, just above the curve of your breast. 

“You can do it. Just a little longer for me, and we’ll break.”

“Hurts,” you breathe, flinching again. 

He hushes you, surprisingly tender. 

“This is the worst of it.” This time, his thumb does brush the edge of your breast, making you suck in a gasp. He recoils, hand lifting away from you and curling into a fist. He rests that against you instead, taking away any further hope that he might brush his fingertips against you. You make it through the rough patch with tears in your eyes but no worse for wear.  

“Break. Ten minutes,” he says again, already shredding his gloves and moving to disappear behind the curtain. 

You call out: “Hey, wait—I’d rather just get through it in one go if I can. If this really is the worst of it.” 

“I need breaks too,” he says stonily.

You duck your head, feeling silly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He vanishes again. 

He is late to return to you. Only by five minutes or so, but noticeably for a man so usually punctual and so demanding of punctuality in you. His face is stoic—what bits of it you can see from behind the mask—as he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again. 

This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breasts—a fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one. He works with single-minded efficiency, giving you his entire focus. You break once more, but this time he breaks in the room with you, stretching out his back and neck (giving you a generous glimpse of his belly when his shirt rides up, exposing cut abs and a happy trail you’d give your life to follow). 

“I think we could do this in one sitting, if you have nowhere else to be,” he mutters at length. 

“Eager to be done?” you wonder. 

He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said. 

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you murmur, staring up at the bright adjustable light that he has positioned over you. You hope he mistakes that for the reason behind any mistiness in your eyes, his rudeness cutting you deeply. 

So the two of you push through later into the evening, until you are sweating at your temples and the base of your neck from the continuous pain for so long. At last he lays the last gradient for the shading, sprays you down, and wipes you clean so very gently. 

“Go take a look. I’m going to cover it up.” 

It’s beautiful. Stunning, even. You let your shirt gape closed and cover the pasties, revealing a broad glimpse of the sternum tattoo, and it is the sexiest you have ever felt. It almost makes your eyes burn anew.

“I love it,” you choke out. “Thank you.”

“Can I take a picture of it?” he asks. “For Instagram.” 

“Sure!” It will feel a little like being famous, you think, judging by how much notice each of the photos on his Instagram garners. He crouches down on the floor to be at the perfect height, reaches out and gently adjusts your shirt. Parts of the tattoo are covered—the very far edges—but you can’t deny how sexy it is. Maybe he feels the same way. 

After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it. Then he says: “Let me cover it up. Keep it covered overnight, but tomorrow let it breathe. Keep it clean. Don’t do anything stupid to it. Understand?” 

“I understand.”

“And if you have any questions—text me.” 

-

You get home to find that Ghost’s personal account has requested to follow you. Thrumming with nerves and excitement, you accept the request and send one of your own, spending the night scrolling through his Instagram (so, so carefully to avoid any incidental ‘likes’). Plenty of the photos are of his artwork, still. But there are ones of his dog: a German Shepherd that is thankfully much more photogenic than her surly owner. There are three or four photos featuring Ghost himself, and only one has his full face in the picture. You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable. 

-

Three days later when you find yourself panicking, you don’t text him like he asked you to. You call. 

Your skin is peeling off. Peeling. Off. The sight of it makes your stomach roll. The entire tattoo is hot to the touch, and the skin around it feels warm as well. Flushed. Is it supposed to hurt this much? 

The internet doesn’t help. The peeling is normal, sure. But everything else is suggesting that your tattoo could be infected. What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.   

With shaking hands, you don’t even think about texting Ghost. You go straight to calling him, tapping his number in your phone and pressing it to your ear, listening to the ring. 

He’s going to send you to voicemail, just like he does to everyone else—except he doesn’t. All the sudden there is glorious feedback from the other end: a cacophony of voices and laughter, clearly some sort of gathering. 

“Yes?” Ghost says into the phone, as if that’s a decent hello. 

“There’s something wrong with my tattoo!” you cry. 

“Wait—get out of my goddamn way.” There is rustling, and then the noise decreases substantially. You can almost see him standing outside whatever bar his friends have brought him to, mask down around his chin, hand over his other ear as he strains to listen to you. “Say it again. Now I can fucking hear you.”

“There’s. Something. Wrong,” you say through your teeth. “With my tattoo!”

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s falling off, for one!”

He snorts. “That’s normal. That's why you called?” 

“It’s all swollen and hot. And it hurts.” 

Now that shuts him up. He sighs a little, switches the phone from one ear to the other. “Hurts how bad?”

“Worse than getting it.” 

“Fuck me. Alright. Meet me at the shop in…twenty?” 

“Twenty minutes from now?” 

“From when else?” He hangs up. Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word goodbye. 

-

The night is cool. You don’t bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much. Pulling your jacket closed more tightly around yourself, you walk from your parking spot along the street to the tattoo shop. 

Ghost stands outside at the curb. His figure is unmistakable. He is smoking, mask down, the lit end of his cigarette a burning ember that flares bright in the darkness. When he sees you coming, he crushes the cigarette beneath his boot and opens the door to the shop, which is still and dark. He flicks on a light switch as he goes, casting the place in a warm glow. 

He’s dressed in his usual dark jeans and an obscenely tight t-shirt, his sleeve of tattoos on display. He leaves the mask down. His eyes are on your tits—or resting where your tattoo is beneath your clothes. 

“Well. Sit. Show me.”

You sit in one of the armchairs, your shoulders rising in defensiveness. “What, just flash you?”

“Nothing I’ve never seen before.” 

Gritting your teeth, you begin unbuttoning your shirt until it gapes open. You cup your breasts with your hands, maintaining your modesty while putting the tattoo on full display. He narrows his eyes, leaning down. His fingers reach out, but then he thinks twice and washes his hands. 

“I was smoking,” he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation. 

“You’re worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?”

“Fuck my lungs,” he mutters. His fingers hover over your tattoo. “Can I?”

You nod. His fingers are cool when they gently prod and ghost along the edges of the tattoo, feeling for the signature warmth of an infection. “Any fever?” he asks. 

“Not that I’ve noticed.” 

“You feel warm, but I’ve felt warmer. I don’t think it’s infected. Have you tried icing it?”

“No,” you admit. 

“Ice will help. Just use something clean, for fuck’s sake.” As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. “When you called, I thought it was for me.”

“It was for you,” you say, brow furrowing. “Who else?”

He snorts, lips quirking. It tugs on the scar across his lips. “Forget it.” 

“Forget what?” 

“Talking about it goes against forgetting it.”

You groan, tossing up your hands. “You’re impossible.” 

He reaches out and jerks your shirt closed, hastily doing up a button. Your face burns as you do up the rest of the buttons—you end up having to backtrack and redo them because he was off by one. 

“Thank you for meeting me. I’m sorry it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he says. “And I wasn’t doing much.”

“You were with friends,” you insist.

His eyes narrow. “Who told you that?” 

“I saw it on your Instagram tonight.” 

“Nosey.” 

“I could buy you a drink sometime,” you offer after a lengthy pause, your heart pounding loud enough to fill the silence between you. Are you really doing this? Are you really asking him out?  “Make up for the ones I lost you tonight.” 

“Maybe.”

God, it’s like he’s not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesn’t it? Your hands are shaking when they fall back to the buttons on your shirt. 

“Would you take one more look at my tattoo? Just to be…positive?”

He sighs and makes an impatient hand gesture. Your fingers fumble through the buttons again. You don’t cover yourself with your hands this time; just keep the halves of your shirt over your nipples. He dutifully exams the tattoo again, prodding gently, laying the flat of his fingers against it to feel the warmth it lets off. 

“Maybe you should look closer.” 

His eyes flicker up to yours. “Closer.”

Your mouth is dry. “Yeah.”

“Can’t get much closer than I am.” 

“You could—if you wanted to.” 

“If I—“ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: “Closer.”

“Mhm.”

The back of his hand brushes against your breast, causing your breath to hitch. His thumb traces softly along the outline of the tattoo, following the path just beneath your shirt, nudging the fabric aside slowly, so slowly, until your breast is bare, nipple puckered and aching. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His eyes flicker to yours as if to see if you really want this—and whatever he sees must reassure him, because then he is sweeping his fingertips along the bottom curve of your breast and taking it into his hand, his palm rasping gently over your nipple. All the breath rushes out of you. Your thighs clench together. Already you’re aching—have been since you saw his mouth around that cigarette on the street—but he moves with determined caution. His thumb finds your nipple and teases it, pulling a desperate little sound from the back of your throat. 

“Pretty little tits,” he says, his voice a warm, smoky rumble that goes straight to your core. He captures your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand reaching out to brace yourself against his shoulder. He is solid and firm beneath your touch, unmoving and unmalleable. Your breasts have always been sensitive, but it feels like every touch is directly related to the feelings in your cunt. You find your back arching, hips searching for friction against the seat of the chair. 

“Be still,” he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. “Let me play with you.” 

“Please,” you gasp. “Play with me—even if that’s all you want—just don’t stop, please.” 

His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I—“ your words are cut off with a gasp as he hauls you out of the chair by your wrist and onto his lap. He’s so thick thighed that it stretches you obscenely to have him between your legs. His hands tear the button-up off your shoulders and down your arms until it flutters to the floor, leaving you half naked. Dipping his head, he presses a heated kiss to the place on your sternum where he had rested his hand during the tattoo—and then trails wet kisses towards your left breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with a decided softness. 

You let out an unflattering, choked groan, resting your weight heavily against him until you can feel the prominent bulge in his tight jeans. His hands find your ass and grip you tightly, working you back and forth, rubbing that bulge against your clothed sex. 

“Driving me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, opening his mouth to drag the sharp line of his teeth against the curve of one breast before switching to the other and flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

You gape at his admission. Had you been? He’d been so closed off and cool…though now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it. Suddenly he grips the back of your neck, where your hairline ends, and pulls you to his mouth. He tastes faintly of smoke, even fainter of the drinks he had had earlier in the night, but it is an intoxicating mixture. Your tongues find a rhythm as your hips do the same, both of you fucking in every sense of the word except the literal kind. 

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?” 

“Uh-huh,” you promise, head bobbing. 

He buries his face in your neck. “Good. I won’t last when I’ve got my cock in you. I’d like you to cum at least once before then.”

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping his shoulders fiercely as you begin a halting, stilted rhythm against his thigh. The denim is rough against your leggings. He feels all around you: his scent, his taste, his touch. When his hands find your hips to help you work yourself against him more smoothly, a sigh of gratitude fans from your lips. 

“What else do you need?” he asks. 

“My—touch me—“ He abandons your hips once you find a suitable rhythm. He finds your nipples again, teasing them with clever fingers. The stimulation has your peak approaching faster, building like a storm in your lower belly. 

Ghost leans back to look at you, eyes trailing over you from head to toe: your face burning with warmth, your breasts with peaked little nipples, your leggings nearly soaked through at the crotch with how wet you are. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“Fucking perfect.” You bury your face in his neck, feeling a warmth inside your chest. He grips you by the neck again and tugs you back. “Look at me. Look at me.” 

You look at him for as long as you can, but when the band in your belly finally snaps, your eyes roll up and slip shut, your mouth drops open in a choked gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder and shake in the throes of your pleasure. 

He leans down to kiss you through it, tongue teasing at your slack mouth. 

When he stands, he takes you with him, hauling you up until you wrap your shaking legs around his waist. It’s probably a good thing too. You aren’t sure you could walk otherwise. He carries you the few steps to the couch and lays you down, curling his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. You nod. He strips them off you, along with your flats, and your panties until you are naked as the day you were born.

Your thighs clamp together shyly. He lets them, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt off. Something catches your eye in the streetlights streaming in through the window: Ghost has one of his nipples pierced, a neat little barbell through the sensitive flesh. 

Fingers enter your vision—your own—reaching out on instinct. You hesitate, unsure if he is receptive, and a little afraid to hurt him. He’s so bloody tall, too…but he takes care of that himself by kneeling down by your side, his eyes cautious. Closer, you can see the scars: silvery in the moonlight, crisscrossing over his torso. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, softly stroking your fingers beneath the pale pink skin of his areola. 

“No,” he says. You can feel the timber of his warm voice vibrating through his chest, up your fingers, straight to your pussy. “You can play with it.”

You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm. His eyes go heavy-lidded, tongue flashing as he wets his lips. After a moment, you grow insecure and move your hands away from his nipple down to a scar that crosses his sternum. He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite. 

“You’re so—“ the words are whispered dreamily before you have any idea how you plan to finish the sentence. Flushing with embarrassed heat under his wary stare, you finish: “—hot.” 

He physically turns away, expression inscrutable. You can’t help but feel like you have said the wrong thing. He puts a hand on your belly, stroking the softness. “You broken, or can you take more?” 

“I want more.”

“Want my cock?” 

You nod, feeling like a bobble head. 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“I want your cock.”

His hand reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. Your eyes track the movement with hungry nerves. His hands put butterflies in your belly: thick palms with long, slender fingers, veins criss-crossing along the backs. An artist’s hands. He works his belt free with nimble grace and shucks down his jeans and underwear in one smooth movement, revealing his cock to your gaze and the light from the street lamps. 

He is huge here to match. Downright intimidating in length and girth, uncut with a nice curve toward his belly. He grips himself and gives a series of smooth strokes, the muscles in his abdomen flexing into sharp relief. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter. 

“No gods here,” he says, kneeling up on the couch. His hands part your thighs, and for a long time he just looks at you, that sensitive, swollen place between your legs. He stares so long that you nearly cover your face, embarrassed by whatever he is thinking. Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art. 

“Can’t believe you let me ink you,” he mutters, stroking your vulva with his warm palm. His eyes are on the sternum piece now. “Practically let me carve my name into your skin. Anybody around here who sees it will know who did it. They’ll know who touched you.” 

“Good,” you breathe. 

His sigh is shaky. You’re learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means he’s pleased with you. You’ve said something right. 

He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and works a hand into his pocket, pulling free a condom. He hands it to you—for inspection, you realize, though you’ve had so few one night stands (try zero) that you’ve never had the need to inspect a condom before. The package is intact at least. There appears to be an expiration date which you squint at. All looks well. You hand it back to him and he tears it open, rolling it down his considerable length. 

Then he goes back to touching you. One hand braces himself against the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you, tasting your mouth deeply. The other hand finds your entrance, circling it with a finger before slipping inside you all the way to the last knuckle. You are wet enough and relaxed enough that he slips in easily. 

“Relax…there you go. Let me in,” he says under his breath, working a second finger in beside the first. It is a bit of a stretch—he’s thick everywhere goddamn it—but it’s a good stretch, a much needed one. The third finger has you stiffening, whining at the pinch of pain. He slows his fingers and lets his thumb find your clit, muting the pain with little jolts of pleasure. 

“Ghost,” you groan, toes curling against the leather of the couch.

“I think you can take it,” he says, thumb so soft and insistent against that aching pearl of nerves. “But what do you think?” 

“Your cock—want it—please—“

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.” 

He notches his cock against your entrance and slips inside you. Both of you inhale together, like on cue. Just the first few inches have you feeling full beyond your comfort zone, but he seems to understand in his silent, all-knowing way. He stills, working that free hand between you both to play with your clit until you’re clenching around him, body trying to pull him deeper. He slips further in and then reaches the end of what your body can take. You feel fucking stuffed, your hands shaking where you have gripped his naked shoulders, nails digging into his skin. 

His own breathing is ragged, pecs brushing your nipples with every inhale. The little bursts of pleasure help, until you find that your hips have grown restless, working back and forth as much as his substantial weight will allow when you’re pinned beneath it. 

“Stay still,” he mutters into the juncture of your neck. “Stay still or I’ll cum and this is all over.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. “Have to move, ‘m so full—“

“Fucking hell,” he groans. He pulls out, leaving you feeling gaped. “Roll onto your side.” 

He gives you instruction but isn’t shy about reaching out and physically arranging you until you are both spooning, your back to his chest. This time when he enters you, it is more shallow, and easier for him to reach around and play with your clit. 

You arch your back, seeking more of him, pressing your breast into his free palm. He plucks at the nipple, teeth nibbling at your throat. 

“Want you to cum again,” he says, stilling your movements so that you can’t fuck your self back against him. “Give me one more. Then it’s my turn.”

“Ghost—I can’t—“ you’ve never cum twice before. Not even with your favorite toys have you been able to scrounge together more than one illustrious orgasm. This knowledge and your expectation of his disappointment has you stiffening in his arms. 

“If you can’t, then don’t,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He keeps his fingers soft and insistent against you, and only after a few lengthy moments does he feel confident enough to work his hips against you too. He pulls out too far and his length drags across your labia, the head brushing where his fingers play with your clit. 

You give a sighing little moan. His head cocks; you aren’t the only one listening to sighs. Now when he gives those lazy, lackadaisical thrusts, his entire length just strokes the outside of your sex. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine, feeling that band in your belly begin pulling tight again. 

He hums behind you, a smug sound. 

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.” 

“Ghost!”

He laughs, honest to God laughs at you. Tears prick your eyes from the sheer need (and a bit from embarrassment) but his hips never cease nor slow their tireless thrusts against you, not even when you grow close enough to beg, close enough to plead. 

He loops his arm around your waist and pins you against him when you cum to keep you from rolling right off the couch, your body wracked with shivers and spasms. The warmth of your release washes over you from head to toe, and you are still basking in it when his cock finds your entrance again and enters you. 

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating), but he still reaches new lengths inside you, filling spaces you didn’t know were empty. The shop is eerily quiet except for the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and the frequent breathy sounds his cock punches out of your lungs. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a series of sounds that are toe-curling: deep groans and raspy curses, whispered praise and hisses through his teeth. His hand grips your hip tightly, leaving shadows the shape of his fingerprints on your skin as he fucks you. 

Sooner than you’d like—but he’d warned you, hadn’t he?—his thrusts grow sloppy, the sounds messy thanks to your wetness as he finds his release and moans it into the skin of your throat. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. And again: “Fuck, fuck. You broken?” 

“Yes.” 

He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he can’t see. 

-

“Sorry about this,” he says as he ties the condom off and throws it away, naked as the day he was born. You’re still naked too, though much more shy, legs crossed demurely and arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Regretting it already?” 

“Yes,” he says. Then, when he sees the stricken look on your face, he adds: “Should have at least taken you to dinner first.” 

“Dinner?”

“You owe me drinks. I owe you dinner.” He finds his boxers in the darkness and slips back into them. Then, because the expression on your face still hasn’t relaxed, he says: “I don’t regret the sex. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

He scoffs a little. 

“I mean it,” you insist. You touch your tattoo. “I wanted it…the day you did—this.” 

He raises both brows at you, silently calling your bluff.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“I jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,” he admits, slipping into his jeans now too. His mouth curls a little at the corner when he sees the way you gape at this news. “I was interested.” 

You laugh; you can’t help it. “Dinner, then? Or drinks?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Get dressed.”

[stclaretarot]

PICK A CARD ⭒ a message meant to find you you right now?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards pulled · knight of cups, five of pentacles, the lovers, ten of pentacles, king of cups. 

channelled songs · blue by beyoncé & blue ivy. like it like that by pip millett. bigger by beyoncé. between the bars by eliott smith.

my dear group one  ♡ brace yourself, dear, because love is closer to you than you think! it is closer to you than you could ever imagine! 

not only is it closer to you in the span of time, but physically closer to you, as your next love may be someone who is around you. this is someone who you may not necessarily be friends with or even talk to, but who you share a schedule with. for example, someone you commute with or see at the coffee shop or see at the gym. 

whatever the specifics, this seems to be someone who you have not really paid much attention to or thought of as a romantic prospect. 

however, very soon, things are going to change. and they are going to change for the better!

GROUP TWO

cards pulled · eight of swords, page of pentacles, the hierophant, the emperor, seven of pentacles.

channelled songs · filter theory by coa white. alive by shinee. get back by pop smoke. walk by nct 127. 

my dear group two  ♡ what you must know, my dear, is that your anxiety is stopping you from seeing your way out of your current situation. you are a bird in a cage, the cagedoor is wide open, and you want to be free but you are afraid of what freedom would be like. 

you are stuck. you are stagnant. you are afraid to take a step forward and unwilling to accept your life for what it is. 

it’s kind of weird becauseyou want things to happen in your life, to change,  but… at the same time… you have no idea what you want out of life. you have no idea what exactly in your life you want to change. 

it’s time to sit down and do some introspection.

GROUP THREE

cards pulled · page of cups, the lovers, four of swords, page of swords, king of pentacles.

channelled songs · wait for it from hamilton. blue by taemin. honey - remix by mariah carey & mase. youngblood by 5 seconds of summer.

my dear group three ♡ what you must know is that soon you will find out why things have turned out the way that they have. why things have fallen apart. why things have not worked out before, or worked out in the way you had hoped. especially where love and work is concerned. 

a better lover or business partner is coming towards you. this is a lover who can actually meet your needs in all the ways you have desired. or this is a business partner/job opportunity who will actually be paying you what you deserve.

for some, it is a combination of both, as these areas of your life will be blooming. wait for it! just a little longer!

GROUP FOUR

cards pulled · ten of cups, king of pentacles, knight of pentacles, ace of pentacles, four of wands.

channelled songs · desperado by rihanna. cry baby by megan thee stallion. punch and judy by elliott smith. good luck, babe! by chappell roan.

my dear group four  ♡ what you must know right now is that all that glitters is not gold. things are not as good as they seem, and people you are exhausting yourself for would never in their life do the same for you. 

you have idealised or romanticised a certain relationship, especially a familial relationship, and just accepted that it is normal for you to put everything you have into it. 

but what about yourself? you can only give so much to othes, before it becomes detrimental to yourself and your health. it is time to start doing more for yourself. to take care of yourself. to celebrate yourself. and, more than that, to spoil yourself. 

[littlemissmaples]

🎂PICK A CAKE!🎂 II Who is your fs? + General Messages ( this second part wasn't intentional, kinda just happened lol)

Pile 1: 💚

• Your fs is very, very, very "segsy" I hear, haha (I was asked to spell it that way) they're giving me this very calming energy about them. They say "that's my mind baby" they're very flirtatious and could either be black, mixed or middle eastern, perhaps Arabic. This is more of my ethnic pile. I do sense there's the chance one of them has a beard–

Ooooh wait, one of them? Is there 2? Here I'm getting more of a masculine energy here so could it be you're not sure who your fs is and you're just debating what it is that you want? That's alright. I don't think that you're battling between 2 people, I think you're battling between 2 versions of yourself and 2 different ideals. What it is that you want and you think that you need. Or perhaps you might have a misunderstanding of what the kind of guy you want is. I'm getting some of you are in a relationship right now and you feel like things just don't connect. "You're a princess" for some of you, your father treats you well, listen to them because it's true when they say that you deserve better. Or perhaps you're involved in an arranged marriage, I feel that you still have the chance to step away from this it doesn't matter how far along you've been in this game, speak up now or forever hold your peace...

Anyways, I feel that your type is "the bad guy" maybe you like older guys or you currently like an older guy. If not I'm getting some of you, the person that you like is your fs but you're too stuck in your mind, waiting to be saved to realize it, that they're more than happy to develop something with you but while you dont have to take the lead, it's important to take the initiative and let yourself be known, let yourself say that you're interested, it's okay to let yourself be "saved" and pulled away from all of this but only if you tell them, otherwise they're going to keep on sitting back on their motorbike, completely unaware of your feelings. For a lot of you, you already know this person but they havent realized their feelings yet. Spark that initial light and set it all ablaze, they'll follow along and take care of the rest. But you have to communicate, they assume their silence is "self-respect" and they dont see you as a damsel in distress, reflect for sometime and see how you would like to go about all of this.

But in short terms who is your fs??

A guy that you already know that is somehow always on your mind even if you dont think about him much or hold heavy romantic feelings for him at the moment.

But just know this If you need it, he wants me to tell you: "I think about you too." For some of you "I think about THAT" too" perhaps a moment happened between the both of you. Be attentive and careful yes, but ultimately, at the end of this game we call life we all die. So follow your heart, choose your own path and cause a little chaos if you have to. But most of all, make sure you have fun 💛

I'm sorry if I didnt answer your question, but this is what's coming in.

Pile 2: 🧡

• Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Wow! Jeez, your first impression of this guy is going to be bizarre is not jaw dropping. They almost feel like they're a celebrity! If they're not a celebrity I feel like they're like a celebrity-look-a-like, they have a very similar face, tone of voice, even a matter of walking as someone that you like. This might be a singer/song-writter, actor for some or even a YouTube. I'm getting they might be in college and they could be white, I keep seeing Timothee Chalamet in my head but I'm getting he's more of a Tom Holland kind of guy, while your fs looks exactly how you want, he is a little bit more of the masculine kind. And for those of you who are a masc energy reading this I get the sense that, much like my fem readers I get the feeling maybe some of you actually want that "spiderman" type of love or a Tom Holland and Zendaya kind of scene about the two of you. I feel like you might, but I'm also getting that you need to not let yourself fall in a daydream too much, not because you wont have this but because you shouldn't reduce your partners and future romantic relationships into just this. I get the feeling that for some of you, your fs isn't who or how you think they are but they have traits of how believe they could be and what it is that you envision them like. But you should be flexible with this, just a little bit, I promise you'll have your dream come true but for many of you, he may sound a bit "manlier" perhaps you wanted him to have softer, more delicate features and he does but those traits dont encapsulate him entirely and for my fems, perhaps she may not be as tall as you like and maybe she might not hold traits like Zendaya but she's definitely gonna be your type. This energy Is just now coming in but some of you may be lgbt, have many types or simply are poly. That's great! But the same messages apply to you, you'll have your dream! You can have your cake and eat it too! But you have to step back for a minute and reflect for something, who are you? What kind of life do you want? Who do you want to be with? Why? Why not? I'm not saying tear yourself into parts but I'm really getting some of you ( I'm hearing "us" some of you dont separate yourselves from a group and see yourselves as individual persons in society and instead as a "unit" while is great, you are more than that) succumb yourselves to a lot of subcultures or reality just societal ideals of what you believe your life should look like. Take inspiration and make your own life worth living and stop looking at everybody else's as the "perfect guide book" to follow. There is no perfect anything and it's incredibly harmful to yourself and others to believe that there is, you dont know why people are the way they are or what happens behind closed doors. Follow your own path and make something beautiful out of you, even if it resembles somebody else's or looks completely different. Some of you need to come out the closet, haha, (once you feel safe and comfortable to do so of course). I'm been pulling in many directions in this pile so I'm going to cut it here. Know that you are okay and that the path you seek will find you but you need to let yourself realize that you're a unique individual with a mind of their own, let yourself have fun on the path that you walk on and choose if you want this one or not. You can get on an off of it as many times as you want and even choose a new one as many times as you like.

In short words, who is your fs? For some of you, you dont want a future spouse, you just want a life partner and a friend a you will find that, you will find the people who match you and fall into the right place. – For others of you, know that your future spouse is currently looking for you and they are exactly as you envision, if not better. The only thing about them is that you might have a couple traits off such as their nose or skin tone and perhaps ethnicity. They might have some "imperfections" as well that you might not think of, maybe they have braces and for some of you I'm hearing "knee surgery" so it's likely one of them has had an injury and either has a scar they're worried about or they have a slight subtle awkwardness to their walk. Dont worry so much about this, some of you overthink about these imperfections and for many of you I'm getting they're not even there and you're just anxious, I promise you'll be okay, haha. The universe knows your heart and it is good and full of love and that love will go into the right hands. You'll be alright, now go rest your pretty head, some of yall have been up all night 💤💤

Pile 3: 💜

• Wow. I cant even tap into your energy, I just tapped immediately into theirs. This personal is serious, this person means BUSINESS maybe even HAVE a business. They're not playing, they seriously want a commitment. I'm getting that they're a "hot mess" but they may just be very passionate. Much like pile 1 this personal may be black, if male brown skin, tall, tall, tall~ and very endearing gentle eyes. If she's a woman then by LORD she's gorgeous, likely darkskin, clear skin, lip gloss and possibly Christian, she takes her faith very seriously but as serious as she may be or come off she's actually so silly and goofy and just the sweetest soul to have around. She wont play about you. This won't apply to all of you but for some of you this person might be mixed and freckled or a red head, possibly a July Leo (or this might just be you) though this is for a few of you so take only what resonates. Your fs is very well read and well spoken, they're very educated although I'm getting for some of them they never went to college, for a few of you though they already have their masters or are on their way of getting it. They might have a similar background to you and or have the same political beliefs. Honestly what I'm getting from this is almost like a "background check" kind of vibe haha, they're like handing me a clip board and having me be your middle man and "vet" for them, I feel like you might be "hard to approach" or you dont just let ANYBODY in your energy like that, you dont just give anyone YOUR time of day and they're aware of that so they're not playing ANY games and getting straight to it and letting you know straight away why they are a great candidate for being your one and only partner. Although I am getting that they are kind of "flawed", not flawed as in bad but flawed as in, they come off as perfect but I believe you may somehow see through it, that while they are very confident and self sufficient and honestly, very, very, very remarkable, reliable and most of all loyal and dependable, they genuinely are a great catch..while you know all this you also know how they seem to be missing a piece of themselves, theres a loneliness in this and it's very gentle, very tender and childlike. They're very mature but ultimately, they just want love. They want love at it's rawest, purest form, they want to be infatuated with you, by you, lost in you, they want to crave you and admire you and receive at least fraction of that same love as well if possible. They're are a hopeless romantic and altho they may not show it at first I feel like you'll get that first wall to crumble without much effort, the rest of it will simply just dissolve the moment you're finally with them. This person wants something serious and if it applies for some of you even marriage and children or both. But even if you dont want this, it doesn't matter because they only see you and not a check list of things to cross out. They want to share something true with you and see how it blossoms into something beautiful.

This one has heavyyyyy 18+ messages in them, it was hard to hold back from typing them but for a lot of you before you go off doing the do with this person know that they are INTOXICATINGGGGG and soooooooo irresistible and they treat you sooooo so good so WRAP IT UP!!! BECAUSE THE TWO OF YOU HAVE VERY MATCHING ENERGIES AND ARE VERY VERY FERTILE SO IF YOURE NOT USING SOME KIND OF CONTRACEPTION (birth control, condom etc) YOU  W I L L  HAVE BABIES!!! 🍼👶🍼👶😭😭

Safe sex = Great sex, take care now✌

(I'm being so serious, wrap it up, some of yall dont listen, I get the heat of the moment might be fun or take you in but babies are a serious 18 year long commitment and if you're not ready for that please don't be hard headed and keep you and your partner safe. Thanks!! That's all bye! 💛💛💛)

[jaeyunsonlyy]

WHY DO I FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME?

Pairing :- Idol!stalker jake x fem!reader

Warnings :- Stalking, Catfishing, unprotected sex, degrading names, jake is really obsessed

A/n :- HII YES I KNOW THIS IS VERY BAD I HATE THIS TOO BUT ITS MY FIRST FIC SO PLS BE KIND WITH ME I'LL BECOME BETTER IN FUTURE PROMISE 😭Also scheduling this incase I get drunk tonight

"Y/n, flowersss" You're friend who's also a barista says bring in a bouquet of flowers.

"Again ?? This is the third one this week" you say surprised.

"Guess your little admirer is too desperate" your friend laughs

"Still can't believe me out of all people have a secret admirer" you chuckle.

Its cute you thought how someone kept sending you flowers because they admired you. This was your first time receiving flowers from a admirer so it made you feel like a middle school girl sometimes.

It was closing time of the cafe, you bid goodbye to your friends and headed home. It was a long tiring day and you just wanted to lie down and sleep but you're better than that so you freshened up changing into your pjs and heating up the leftover pasta from the morning. Sitting down on your bed, you're about to take a bite of your food when a notification chimes in

Reading the name a smile appeared on your face .

@jakesim.official : "Did you get home ?"

@you : You know your username still sometime gives me a mini heart attack thinking THE REAL sim jaeyun just texted me

@jakesim.official : Sue me for keeping the username as the name of the man I admire the most

@you : Gay.

@jakesim.official : fuck off I'm not gay and atleast I don't thirst over his literal hands

@you : YOU DON'T GET IT YOU'RE A MAN

@jakesim.official : Bet you get wet over his pictures

@you : uh

@jakesim.offical : BITCH YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING DO THAT ? NAHH YOU NASTYYYY

@you : I'm just a girl 💔

@jakesim.offical : You're actually a whore hope that helps ❤️

@you : fuck you I'm going to sleep

@jakesim.offical : nighty night whore ❤️

You chuckle light shaking your head at his last message.

When did all this start ? Lets go 2 weeks back.

The energy in the air was electric, the buzz of thousands of fans reverberating through the stadium. You had been waiting for this day for as long as you could remember—Enhypen's concert, and you were finally here. The tickets had been nearly impossible to get, and when you held them in your hands, it felt like a dream come true. Enhypen wasn’t just a K-pop group to you; they were your world, your escape from the miserable routine of everyday life. And Jake... Jake was your bias, the one you spent hours watching, admiring, and adoring.Standing amidst a sea of glowing light sticks and enthusiastic chants, you felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. For months, you had saved up for this night, taking up extra shifts at work, working multiple jobs at the same time.

Tonight, it felt like all that dedication had been worth it.The lights dimmed, and the stadium erupted in screams as the gates of the stage opened which the members stepping out.This was it. The moment you’d been waiting for. Enhypen took positions and drunk dazed echoed across the venue.

You were in absolute awe how good they were on stage. Something about jake that day was different, which made him stand out, maybe it was the way he moved with such ease, such confidence, every step calculated but natural. His hair was styled perfectly, the strands falling across his forehead in that effortless way he always seemed to pull off. His gaze, dark and intense, swept across the crowd as he sang his lines, and for a fleeting second, you could have sworn he looked directly at you.You laughed it off, shaking your head. Of course, he didn’t actually see you—there were thousands of fans here. But the thought alone made your cheeks flush, a silly daydream playing in your mind. The concert continued, every song pulling you deeper into the performance. You sang along, the lyrics coming as second nature, your voice blending into the chorus of other engenes who worshipped Enhypen just as much as you did.But every time you looked at Jake, that feeling crept back. A strange sensation, like he did see you. Like his eyes lingered on you a little longer than they should have. You mentally slapped yourself at the idea, and you found yourself glancing around, everyone was lost in their own excitement, too consumed by the performance.

Then it happened again.

During one of their slower songs, when the members moved closer to the edge of the stage to interact with the fans, Jake’s gaze locked onto you. This time, it wasn’t a quick glance. It felt deliberate, pointed. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. It was like everything else faded—the lights, the music, the screams of the crowd—and it was just you and him.A slow smile crept across his lips, and your heart skipped. Was this real? You blinked rapidly, shaking your head as if trying to shake off the illusion. But when you looked again, Jake’s eyes were still on you, still holding that intense, almost unsettling gaze. The moment stretched on for what felt like forever, and then he was gone, moving down the stage to another section of the crowd, leaving you breathless and confused.The rest of the concert passed in a blur. Your mind kept replaying that look, the way his eyes had seemed to search for something in you, how it made your heart race in ways you couldn’t explain. By the time the encore came around, you were physically exhausted but emotional almost crying. The members waved their final goodbyes, disappearing backstage one by one, and you found yourself standing there, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.The crowd slowly began to disperse, fans still buzzing with excitement, but you stayed rooted to the spot for a moment longer. As you turned to leave, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you glanced at the screen—a notification from social media. You had posted a picture of you infront of the stage, nothing special. You opened it and froze.

A new follower.

Your heart almost jumped out when you saw the username, but then you realized it wasn’t the Jake Sim. Instead, it was a fan account: @JakeSim.official. It was a common enough name for fan accounts, so you brushed off the initial excitement that surged through you. Still, something about the timing of it made you pause.You clicked on the account, finding nothing particularly unusual. The profile was full of Jake-related content—photos, fancams, and retweets from other fans. Harmless. Just another fan of Jake, like you.

But something nagged at the back of your mind. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the concert, or maybe it was just your own wild imagination, but the thought lingered longer than it should have. You laughed at yourself, locking your phone and shaking your head. There was no reason to feel strange about a simple follow from a fan account.

As you left the venue, your heart was still racing, your mind replaying the concert over and over. That look, that smile... could it have been real? Could Jake really have noticed you in the midst of thousands of fans?

When you finally got home and collapsed into bed, exhaustion washed over you, but sleep didn’t come easily. Your phone lay on the pillow next to you, tempting you to open it again, when a notification chimes in

ding !

You open it to see the acc that followed you at the concert texting you.

@jakesim.official : Heyy !

@you : hello ? do I know you some how ?

@jakesim.official : Oh no no I saw you at the concert and thought you were really pretty so I wanted to tell you in person but I lost sight of you and suprisingly you popped up on my feed

@you : ohh ! thankyou that's really sweet of you

@jakesim.official : Its no biggie ! do you want to be friends you seemed really cool and I wanted to be friends with you :D

@you : ofcc! I would love to what's your name, I'm yn :)

@jakesim.official : I'm chris :D

@you : ooo thats a cool name

@jakesim.official : thankyou smm omg !!

That was it, the beggining of yours and chris's friendship. Weirdly chris's personality seemed awfully familiar but you brushed it off.

Which was your biggest mistake

Beacause on the other end there was no chris

But none other than jake sim himself.

two weeks ago...

Jake hadn’t thought much of the concert when they’d first stepped on stage. It was another performance in a long line of sold-out shows, another sea of faces blending together under the bright lights. He had done this hundreds of times before—sung the same songs, danced the same choreographies, and waved at fans who adored him from a distance. It was part of the job, something he was used to. The rush of adrenaline, the cheers, the glowing light sticks—it was a routine.

Until he saw her.

It was a brief moment, barely a second, but Jake felt it immediately. His eyes swept over the crowd as they always did, catching glimpses of fans waving signs or holding up their phones. And then he saw you. There was something about the way you stood there, completely mesmerized by him, that made you stand out from everyone else. He couldn’t explain it, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something shift inside him.His gaze lingered on you a little too long, but he didn’t care. There was something about your eyes, the way you looked at him, that made his heart beat faster. It wasn’t the usual fangirl excitement he was used to—it was something more. Something deeper.As he continued to perform, his focus kept drifting back to you. He couldn’t help it. No matter how many faces he saw, his eyes always found their way back to yours. And every time, the same feeling washed over him—desire, mixed with something darker, something more intense. He couldn’t shake it.

By the time the concert ended, Jake was restless. His thoughts were racing, his mind unable to let go of that moment, that look. Who were you? He needed to know. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, a need that grew stronger with every passing second. As he stood backstage, the other members laughing and congratulating each other on another successful performance, Jake was lost in thought.

He knew he had to find you.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and without thinking, he opened the social media app, scrolling through fan posts tagged from the concert. It was second nature by now—idols often checked in to see what their fans were saying after shows, but tonight, Jake wasn’t looking for compliments or performance clips. He was looking for you.It took him a while, scrolling through countless posts and pictures, but then he saw it. A photo, posted just minutes ago. The username wasn’t one he recognized, but when he clicked on it, his breath caught in his throat.

It was you.

The photo showed you standing in front of the concert stage, holding an Enhypen lightstick high in the air. The crowd was visible in the background, the stage lights illuminating your figure. Jake could almost feel the excitement you had felt in that moment, the euphoria of being so close to the group you adored. But all he could focus on was you. You, standing there with that lightstick, looking so happy, so perfect.

As he scrolled through your posts, his obsession grew. Every picture, every comment—he devoured it all, learning about your life piece by piece. It wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed to know everything about you. What you liked, what you disliked, where you lived. The more he saw, the deeper his desire sank into him, until it consumed every thought.But following you with his official account would be impossible. Enhypen didn’t have individual Instagram accounts—fans knew that. Their private accounts were carefully guarded, inaccessible to the public, and that’s how it had to stay. But Jake couldn’t let go of the need to see more of you. So, he created another account—a fan account, something that would blend in with the hundreds of others who adored him. He named it @JakeSim.official, a simple name that wouldn’t cause suspicion, and followed you from there.It was thrilling, in a way. You didn’t know. You had no idea that the person behind the harmless fan account was Jake himself, watching your every move. It gave him a sense of control, knowing he could see into your world without you realizing.

But it wasn’t enough.

The more he watched, the more his need for you grew. He found himself thinking about you constantly, replaying that moment during the concert when your eyes had met. He imagined what it would be like to talk to you, to hold you, to make you his. The thought of anyone else getting close to you made his blood boil. You were his. No one else’s. Late at night when everyone went to bed after an exhuasted day he was in his room jerking off to your photos. Oh you would take him so well. Fuck ,he needed to be inside you.

"Hyung where are you going" Jungwon asked.

"Oh just to take some fresh air I'll be back late" Jake replied. Liar

He wasn't going to get fresh air, he was going to your cafe because he knows you are working rn but jungwon does not needs to know that.

"Okay make sure not to get caught my dispatch" Jungwon said easily beliveing his lie.

"Will do" jake said and headed out.

Now was jake going to go inside the cafe and order a coffee like any other person ? Ofcourse not, instead he was gonna stand there behind the bushes observing you.

It was 10 pm which got jake excited.Why ? Because its your closing time. You bid last min goodbye to your friends and started walking towards home completely unaware jake was walking behind you. Jake needed to be quiet as discreet as possible. While walking you felt someone was walking behind you but you brushed it off. The night's still young and there are a lot of people on the street someone of them are probably going in the same direction as you.right ?

The distance from the cafe to your house wasn't much so you quickly reached home locking the doors relieved to be finally home after a long day. There was someone else relieved too. Jake. He finally knew where you lived and now he will do everything to pay you a visit everyday.

This went on for days where jake would somehow sneak out of the dorm and go to your house to watch you from afar occasionally sending in gifts at your cafe.

Until he couldn't take it anymore. Being far away from you. So he did what he wanted for so long.

He broke in your house. When you were sleeping.

Tiptoeing around in your room he saw you sleeping peacefully. Oh his heart ! how adorable you look rn. He carefully got down on his knees between your legs. No underwear. You're basically asking him to fuck you. With his mouth watering he gave your pussy a lick. Fuck you taste even better than he imagined. He dived his head right back in licking and sucking like his life depended on it.

All this made woke your body up like a jolt which caused jake to stop.

You horrifying look down to see the man you idolize actually being in between your legs.

Jake smirked. "Hi baby did I wake u up ?"

You on the other hand were frozen. You did not know what to do. Your mind was screaming at you to run run run away but the small part of you which is sick and twisted was encouraging you to stay there. This is what you always have dreamt of haven't you ?

"Cat got your tongue ?" Jake mocked. "Now don't pretend like you didn't like it, this is exactly what you have always wanted didn't you ? Nasty whore always fantazing about getting fucked by me now take what I give"

How did he know ? He isn't supposed to know that ? Fuck that he isn't supposed to know you at all.

Just as you're about to speak jake beat you to it "How did I know ? Now baby remember how they always say never trust strangers online ? You should have listened to them kitten"

Then it hit you. The concert, the timing of chris following you, the flowers at the cafe, it was all coming together like a puzzle.

"Yo-you are" You speak fumbling over your words

"Chris" Jake said smiling but that smile was evil.

"Now you have talked enough slut I can't wait anymore"

Before you can even process what he said, he was already out of his jeans and underwear.

Damn he was thick.

"Like what you see slut ?" Jake said cockily.

Jake held you down as he slowly put his tip in. You both moan together at the feeling. Without giving you much time to adjust he put himself in fully.

You winced loudly "ja-jake slow down please" he pleaded.

"Shut up you're gonna take exactly what I give you slut I've waited long enough" jake growled not slowing down.

You clenched at his words.

"Oh ? The slut likes it. Mine, mine, all mine" Jake growled.

The room was filled with moans and skin slapping.

You felt a knot forming in your stomach so you look at jake and said "j-jake I'm about to"

"Me too baby me too,let it go for me kitten"

And soon enough you both came together.

You lay down exhausted slowly losing yourself to sleep, the last thing you remember is jake wrapping his hands around you before you completely blacked out.

Finally. Jake had you, you were his now and no one is going to take you away from him.

Taglist :- @hazycottagedreams @faithnsstuff @jiryunie @sammie217 @yunhoswrldddd @engentiny @imnotyizhuo @selleprotection @woniefull @tinyteezer @s4mcore @strxwbloody @nyfwyeonjun @babygirlskz98 @jakeswifez @immelissaaa @wave2hoon @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @whyme11 @nshmrarki @haechonly @d-dilemma @wondash @missnotsopretty @roslayy @m3wkledreamy

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

[ ###… ] modern AU, rockstar Wriothesley, gn reader, est. relationship, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, fluff, long-distance pining, lovesick & homesick wrio, kinda cheesy which is kind of on brand for me lol

By the time Wriothesley manages to get back to his hotel room and check his phone, he's pretty sure you're asleep. He hopes you are, knowing how late it must be on your end.

It's no surprise that there are several messages waiting for him— each day you've been apart, you give him something sweet to read in the evenings after a busy day of promos or after a hectic show. Something to make the distance between you seem a little less vast, to let him know that you're still thinking about him.

Even on days where he's dead tired, he'll always read them. Always let you know that he thinks of you, too.

What does surprise him is the newest text, sent at just over twenty minutes ago. Wriothesley frowns as he wonders why you're still up, and his heart only drops more when he scrolls through the messages and reads the latest thing you sent.

I miss you. I really, really miss you.

Before he can even hope that he's not bothering you, his finger near slams on the call button. You answer on the second ring, voice lacking the raspiness of a roused sleep. It makes him sigh with relief.

"Wrio?" you ask, surprised. "Are you okay? What's up?"

"I should be asking you that." Wriothesley sits heavily on the plush bed, flopping back against the pillows with all the grace of a man who just gave a two-hour performance.

As luxurious as the king-sized bed is, with its soft sheets and myriad of immaculately fluffed pillows, he can't help but yearn for the warm familiarity of your own bed and your well-loved blankets.

"Why're you still up, honey? Don't you have breakfast with your friends tomorrow?"

"...can't sleep," you murmur after a beat, voice so quiet. He hears sheets rustling, then silence again. You hesitate. "I... it might sound selfish but I miss you being here with me. It sucks that the bed feels so empty without you."

And oh, if he could, Wriothesley would crawl through the phone right this very second and wrap you in his arms— would crush you to his chest and hold you tight as he listens to your breath taper off into sleep. Would keep you against him, wrapped up in his love and adoration, until you practically have to beat him off of you with a stick.

But he can't and it's killing him.

"It's not selfish. I miss you too," he says, voice longing. "I want to go home to you so bad, sweetheart, you have no idea. Wish I could've packed you up in my bag and smuggled you here with me." He has to fight sleepy giggles at the thought.

"Speaking of— you better be prepared for a crapload of gifts when I get back. I've got a whole suitcase of stuff I thought you'd like."

You gasp, and even sounding a little crackly from the speakers, his heart does a flip. "A whole suitcase?! I wouldn't even know where to put all that!"

"We'll find space. 'm pretty sure there's some stuff we can jigsaw around." Wriothesley tries to keep the tiredness from his voice, tries to fight back the yawn. It's been so long since you've called, what with timezones and schedules getting in the way, and he wants to talk to you longer— ask how your day's been, what your plans are for the rest of the week, if there were any places you want to visit when he gets home. This call is much too short for all the things he wants to say, for all the hours he wants to spend listening to you talk.

But try as he might, you can tell he's close to knocking out without even having to lay an eye on him.

"You should sleep," you tell him, voice soothing him like a balm. "You're probably tired after your show. I saw a few videos, you know— you were so cool. I'm proud of you, Wrio."

He hums, basking in your praise. His eyelids are already growing heavy, the soft siren's song of sleep growing harder to resist. If he closes his eyes, maybe he can imagine that you're just down the hall, busy with something. You'll come in any second now, crawl into bed and slip into his arms, and everything would be right with the world.

"Thank you for... for calling. For checking up on me just because of a text." You giggle at that last bit, and (as it always seems to do) his heart flips. "I love you lots."

"Mm, no need to thank me. Just gimme lots of kisses when I get home." His tongue is growing heavier, sleep more inviting. But he manages to get one last thing out— "I love you lots, too."

Right before Wriothesley lets himself drop, you press a loud, exaggerated kiss to the receiver of your phone. He smiles.

That's how you both fall asleep: with both phones still on the line, even breaths and quiet snores comforting the other into a restful slumber.

[dontexpectmuch]

i know how much you guys love this series, so i give you a new part. this one how ever will be;

comments/feedback is highly appreciated! please, im getting desperate :d

Habits Jude Bellingham might develop before you guys get into a relationship!

(a Lost in Madrid drabble!)

it is no secret that jude just loves to talk. he genuinely enjoys it so much to share any and every thought that goes through his mind, no matter how small it might be. he couldn’t tell when it started exactly, but suddenly he found himself on his way to you, a tired student that just wants to finish their work. as soon as he lifts his hand, knocks on your door and enters the room his lips start moving, talking so lively and fast that you need some time to register what is even happening.

“what do you mean ‘m talkin’ your ear off? you literally study literature and shit!” - “it’s more about reading, jude.” you sigh, wishing for any kind of help at this moment.

it is also nothing new for you to receive messages from jude during your quiet evenings when you decide to stay home. jude recently got into sending audio messages, you being his number one victim [forced] friend, whom he shared this new passion with. and most of the times he won’t even say anything important. he’ll just sing a new spanish song he has learned that past week. and he will sing. no matter how terrible it sounds and how much it makes your ears bleed. though, you also always listen to those audios, even though you know what the content will be.

“jude?” opening your door after hearing a desperate knock, you did not think that you would see your [not] friend standing there. he looks tiredly at you, clothes wrinkled and sandals on, “mum wanted me to bring you some cake she baked.” he gives you the tupperware filled with slices of cake, energy low. you feel your shoulders relax as you look up at him, “tell her i love her, please.” he just nods. and even though he always complains to you about how he is not some delivery boy, he can’t help but get excited at the thought of seeing your soft eyes when you receive food his mum made. it makes him feel giddy inside.

he makes you trip purposely whenever you walk in front of him, and then giggles and jogs away to join the others on the field when you send daggers his way with your glare.

he forces you to play two-touch, even though you have told him multiple times already that you cannot play really well. he quite literally forces you to become better, giving you tips while making you pass the ball against the wall back and forth. “i don’t want to do this anymore, jude.” - “well, that’s too damn bad.” his gaze serious as he corrects your form once more. “bitch.” you murmur under your breath, praying for him to just disappear somewhere and leave you alone.

“what?” you ask as you look up from your notes, eyes wide as you watch jude place a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll onto your desk. “i heard that you like sweets, or whatever.” he says, [desperately] wanting to look cool. your heart starts to pick up in speed when you look back and forth between jude and the things he just gave you, warmth spreading through your body. “thanks.”

“watch me.” he smirks at you, who looks quite annoyed tired at him. “i’ll hit this first time.” - “like you did to me on my first day here?” - “dude! i told you not to talk about it anymore, ‘t’s a sensitive topic for me, ‘kay?”

heartfelt conversations between you are not as rare as one might think. whenever jude comes to you to talk your ear off while toi work on your research, you sometimes tell him about your own stuff. that leads to various topics you two discuss, which also results in sharing some intimate thoughts. it makes jude, who usually looks so confident and well put together, look more human, like a 20 year old guy who also learns something new every day.

—————————————

surpriseee! hope you like it!! :)

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "I love you because..."

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a love confession for you. it could be a friend, a colleague, someone you help/ed, a family member, your guides or ancestors, your higher self or your present/future partner/spouse. meditate to put yourself in a receiving mode and go check your one, dear soul. enjoy your Valentine's day: whether you feel lonely or not, whether you are in a relationship or not, know that you are deeply loved.

if you rather get a message from your present/future partner/spouse, check my instagram @/psychelis.new

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 4

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

I love you of a quiet pure respectful love, because you're strong and brave and you taught me that struggles can be overcome and new goals can always be reached. You taught me a lot also about love and friendship: maybe you don't know, but I have been going through a very tough situation and finding you/having you near, listening to you, helped me so much. You were (and are) like a dream come true to me. You made me stronger, inspired me and helped me move on with a lot of confidence and hopefulness more, and I'll always be thankful to you for this. I am not sure you know about this, about my feelings, I always look at you from a distance and freeze in awe in front of your kindness and beautiful smile. I would like to approach you and thank you personally but I am not sure you would accept it from me. I am still afraid to be abandoned or to disappoint you but I am sure one day I will be able to change this also thanks to you. One day I will be bold enough and thank you properly. I am working to get ready for that day and have no more fear.

[more symbols/signs: fairytales, children, The Little Prince (the dialogue with the fox in particular), fox, star, comets; could be friend, sb in your same school/job place crushing on you, ex, -online- admirer, childhood friend/crush; I'm getting lot of school-related/young energy, could even be a student if you're a teacher or sth; it seems someone who isn't used to kindness and gentleness/support and bc of this you made them addicted to this side of yours]

song: fetish | selena gomez, gucci mane

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pile 2

I love you because you guide me and give me peace. Your voice is like a tender sound calming my nerves, your words are warm and embracing me anytime I need love. You came up unexpectedly and brought the wind of change with you, a warm tender soft one that caresses me and plays with my hair making me smile of a peaceful smile. Something I could hardly experience before. I love you because you help me feel better and change/grow for the better. You've helped me cleansing from my toxic past and you made me see things from a different perspective. Like in a snap of fingers, everything went from chaos to calm, in my mind and in my heart. You always know what to say to bring me back on my feet, to balance me, and you guide me in every move I take. I am thankful for having you by my side, my true anchor and gentle loving sister soul. Never cease to speak to me, I love listening to your ideas and words, you always sing the most beautiful song in my ears, just for me to listen to.

[more symbols/signs: water, emotions, rain/rainy day, wind, sound, dreamcatcher, weather vane, bells, air signs; possible strong mental/5d connection; could be a soulmate (romantic or platonic), also a colleague or family member/ancestor or your partner's higher self]

song: every breath you take | denmark + winter

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

I love you because amidst all of the chaos, there you were and still are. I love you cause you always wear a smile and try to keep your joy with you, and share it around. I love you cause of your sweet tender habit to dance and turn around everytime you're happy. I love you for all the beauty you bring with you, even if you cannot see it. I love your regal side and your cute side. I love all the different people you are, especially your curios self, never ceasing to learn more of what's around you (please keep yourself safe). I love how you can lose yourself daydreaming about love and what's next for you, but also how you are so easy to distract... Maybe you should focus more, yes, but who cares? I like to distract you too cause when you notice you always get so pouty and offended with me and that's so very cute. Please try to let go of the past, trust yourself. I know you hurt still, but better things will come and you know it too. Don't let the anxiety/worries take over you, stay confident and trust that all will be great. I will also help you make it so.

[more signs/symbols: crowds, -long time- friend/s, studying together, raincoat, jeans, flirting; feels a classmate or friend -maybe a group of friends-, possibly someone crushing on you; young energy but especially from you here so the person/people could be "older" for some of you]

song: golden hour | jvke

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pile 4

I love you because that's what I was born for. I love you cause that's my duty, to care for you and protect you. But I also love you because you resemble me: you're determined, confident and you work for your dreams. You don't let anything or anyone bring you down and even if you don't feel this way now, I know you have it inside of you. You just need to believe again in all that you really are, you just need to remember who you really are. Let me in, let me help you remember it all. Let me help you give you your power back. We can have it all again, together. Don't let the demons you have learned to live with, govern you: you're the one in charge of putting them back to their place. You're the one able to give yourself all that you want, love included. Take care of you, give yourself breaks and get ready: a lot is in store for us. I'm sorry you have/had to wait so much. Please forgive me.

[more symbols/signs: vinyl, music, nostalgia, dancing, gala, Europe, dresses, castle, deep heart connection; possible past life connection (around 1700-1800 centuries; kingdoms); power couple; possible ex/situationship that now is on hold or future partner/spouse, guides/ancestors/departed pet or higher self; in all honesty the first message I got is the last line I wrote. Much more than the reasons they love you for, they wanted you to know how much they long for you now]

song: in the name of love | bebe rexha, martin garrix

[feistyvirghoe]

*♡∞:｡.｡ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ? ~ 18+ ˚₊·➳❥ PILE 1 -3◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

PILE 1 ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

(this pile was long af, tumblr wouldn’t let me paste everything so hopefully you guys can read this well! i’m sorry!)

PILE 2 ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

PILE 3 ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

(rest of pile 3-sorry for how the messages came out in your pile but you needed to hear this, just to be aware and not fall for facades)

well we got someone here who don’t wanna play games with you, take you home, rub you down, pamper you, explore your body, making love to every part of your body, watching your movements and where your sweet spots are, this person isn’t one to fuck around, they’re serious about you, do you guys like licking ears or like the nibbling of ears, making the other person shiver, tingles down their spine, this person doesn’t want to rush anything, like they love to be in the moment, aware and mindful of what they’re doing to you, dirty talk is here so i feel like this person would just want to be up in your ear about what yall got going on if u know what i mean lol, verbal communication during sex is another way to stay present as well, this pile is all about being more present and aware of what you’re doing, not staying in your head, maybe your person will see that you get anxious and overwhelmed so they take their time and feel you out literally haha, but they’re just watching you paying attention to how you’re feeling, idk why the fuck i heard ushers confessions song so maybe someone here who you’re dealing with wants to open up to you in the bedroom, like sex is a good way for them to get their emotions out, talking you through it, so intense but just like the whispering sweet nothings back to one another and being vocal with each other. now i’m going to get some messages to see what’s truly going on here (use ur discernment, at the end of the day i don’t really know your story so just place it where it fits :) )

★strive- i have grown up since our last encounter, i have been working on myself to be the better person whom you can feel proud of.

♥︎divine timing- we are on the journey and the divine dance on the soul plane, it will manifest into the physical world in perfect divine timing, all we have to do is trust and have faith that all will work out beautifully.

★promise- i wish you knew just how special you are to me, it kills me not to be able to tell you, you amaze me with your compassion and kindness through this time apart, i promise i will make things right between us.

(i feel like for this newer person to come in you’ll have to purge, let go of, and just walk away from the toxic energy, im sorry for how short y’all’s pile is, choose another one IF you feel called to it)

sex on fire, do i make you nervous, on my mind

˖◛⁺⑅♡Lᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ♡⑅⁺◛˖ thank you for clicking on my post and giving me a chance to read for you, i’ll post my pile 4-6 later but here’s the top three for now since tumblr has their limits haha ˖◛⁺⑅♡Lᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ♡⑅⁺◛˖

✨4-6 available 💫

[soullumii]

this is trouble | joel miller x f!reader

part 2

summary: it's been three weeks since joel last fucked you. tonight he finally has the time.

warnings/tags: 18+ smut mdni, filth. was meant to be plotless but sort of has plot now oops. fem!afab!reader, fwb, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, secret fwb, dirty talk, bratty!reader, grumpy!reader, dom!joel, soft!joel as fucking always (i’m a romantic, what can i say?) little bit of feelings oops, some angst at the end oops, pet names, no use of y/n

word count: 4.6k-ish

a/n: couldn’t find a gif of joel stroking that damn guitar so i made one. lowkey hate this but i needed to upload something so here i hope u enjoy

so when you give that look to me,

i better look back carefully cuz this is trouble, yeah this is trouble

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

It’s been a good few weeks since you last fucked Joel.

Since this whole friends with benefits thing started between you. 

And tonight you’re kind of set on getting his dick back inside you again. Since, y’know, it’s been so long.

You’ve been craving it for a while, but tonight it’s kind of all encompassing. Kind of been the only thing on your mind since Tommy and Maria invited you out tonight. You and Joel, the latter who for the past three weeks has been busy with god knows what. 

You’re kind of pissed at him. Kind of really pissed. And your horny, pent up brain doesn’t help much with keeping your cool. 

At least you’re a few drinks in now, which has cooled your temper down some (though has spiked your libido quite a bit). Maria and Tommy are totally not picking up on your bad mood, though, thank god.

You swirl the last few dregs of wine in your glass, hardly listening to what Maria is practically shouting to you from the other side of the booth, since it’s so fucking loud in here. Your mind is caught on Joel standing at the other end of the Tipsy Bison.

You’ve been eyeing the way his hands curl around his glass of whiskey. The way his flannel stretches over his broad chest. The way his mouth moves as he talks to one of the stable hands named Harry. 

You remember the feeling of that mouth between your thighs.

Fuck, how much longer is he gonna make you wait? Another damn week?

He looks over at your table, eyes catching yours from across the room. You glare at him, trying to convey the frustration and lust and want you feel.  

His lip twitches in a smirk, seemingly having received your message. He pats Harry on the back, and then he’s sauntering back over to you and your little group of friends.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He slides into his seat next to you in the booth. His scent of pine and sandalwood envelops you, a silent torture in and of itself. “Harold doesn’t know when to stop talkin’.”

Tommy laughs boisterously. When he’s had one too many drinks, he’s impossibly loud. “Man, I remember when he kept me at the greenhouse for an hour talkin’ about some bullshit.”

“He's a good guy. Just likes to talk." Maria glances at the radio perched in the corner, a new song playing through the speakers sprinkled throughout the bar. “Oh I love this song! Let���s go dance!”

Joel looks over at you, and you’re still kind of out of it, eyes fixated on the way the sleeves of his flannel are rolled up above his forearms, showing off the veins that snake across his skin, the muscles that shift with each drum of his fingers on the table top.

You’re not in any condition to dance at the moment, and Joel is certainly aware of it.

“I think we’ll stay here,” he says. “Y’all go enjoy yourselves.”

“Suit yourself.” Maria drags Tommy out to the dance floor, leaving you and Joel at this little booth tucked in the corner all by yourselves. 

Alone. 

In the dark. 

And you’re drunk. Joel, probably on his way there.

This is not going to end well. Or maybe it will. For you, at least. Just…not for any poor suckers who might stumble across whatever is about to take place. 

Joel lazes in his seat, casually stretching an arm over the back of the booth, pressing in close to you.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Hi,” you say.

“…You doin’ alright?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice rather than any real concern, and you know he knows exactly what’s wrong with you.

“I’m fine,” you respond coolly.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“I’m havin’ some trouble believin’ that, since you’re poutin’ like crazy right now, sweetheart.”

“I am not pouting-“

He laughs, full on fucking laughs at you. “Uh yeah, ya are. You’re actin’ like a lil brat. Givin’ me those goddamn eyes from across the room.” 

“Eyes? What eyes?”

His voice dips into something dangerously low, only for you to hear. “The ones practically beggin’ me to eat your pussy. Those ones.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel!” you hiss, turning your head to hide your embarrassment. You drain the rest of your drink and immediately wish you had more. Or some water, at least, to cool down the warmth settling high in your cheeks. 

“That’s what you want, ain’t it?” 

“I don’t fucking know. Are you actually going to do it? Or are you just gonna leave me high and dry again?”

He sighs heavily, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose and why is he the frustrated one here?

You’ve gone three fucking weeks without his dick in you! After he and you made a deal! You should be mad. Not him!

But maybe…maybe that’s just it. Maybe he isn’t fucking you because he just doesn’t want to anymore. And that, scarily enough, makes your chest ache and your eyes get all teary and wow you are so drunk right now. 

“Listen—“ he starts.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Joel,” you snap, folding your napkin into little squares to distract yourself from how upset you are. 

He pulls back, and you think he might just get up and leave you to stew angrily again. You could afford to throw yourself another pity party. There’s a bunch more napkins on this table that need folding.

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, his hand settles warm on your thigh. Your fingers stall around the napkin. 

“I know I’ve been busy, but I intend to keep my promise this time,” he says softly, his hand squeezing your bare flesh, your sundress already having ridden up your thigh. “Don’t think you’ve been the only one cravin’ this.” 

His hand caresses down your inner thigh until his palm is cupping you through your panties, his knuckles brushing over your clothed entrance, and you’re grateful that the booth is angled the way it is, that you’re tucked on the inside, because it makes it a lot harder for anyone to see what he’s doing.

And it makes it a lot easier for you to give into it.

Your legs fall open, providing him more access to where you’re slick and ready for him, your knee pressing into his jean-clad thigh.

“Mm, there we go,” he smirks, stroking you through the fabric, and a tiny whimper escapes you. He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your ear when he murmurs, “You’re such a drama queen when you’re horny.” 

Motherfucker…

Okay, yes. You can be a bit dramatic. But it’s not only your body that’s horny for him…your heart is kind of horny too. Joel is your best friend and to not see or talk to your best friend for three weeks is practically torture, especially when they’ve been giving you the good dicking down that you deserve. You have a right to be dramatic. 

You send him a scathing glare but it melts the moment his fingers pull your panties to the side and slip beneath the fabric.

You’re wet as hell. You know it. He knows it. But you’re still mad at him, and kind of drunk, so…

“Don’t you say fucking shit.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to.”

It’s a damn lie. He loves commenting on how wet you get for him. While it’s a bit humiliating for you, it only boosts his ego. Like hell he needs an ego boost, though.

His finger lightly swipes up your folds, and he bites down on his lip to try and hide the arrogant grin on his face at the way you thrust your hips forward needily with a breathy pant, but he’s failing. It’s practically impossible for The Joel Miller not to make things about himself.

“How often did you touch yourself thinkin’ about me while I was gone?”

Case in point. 

“Hmm…I don’t think I ever did.”

He circles the pad of his finger around your entrance, and stares you down with dark eyes, looking straight through your core, his voice dipping into something sultry and ragged and downright criminal. “You’re such a damn liar.” 

You feel like you might melt into the faux leather booth. Your thighs are already sticking to it, why not just become part of it at this point?

He slowly sinks his finger inside you, his thumb stroking your outer lips as he does so, and you’re boneless against the cushioned back of the booth.

“I’ll be honest for the both of us. Practically came to the thought of you every night,” he mumbles against your ear and lightly bites your earlobe. “Was thinkin’ ‘bout how much I missed you… ‘bout your body… ‘bout this perfect pussy.” He emphasizes each word with a pulse of his thick finger inside you. 

You shudder, your body lighting up at the thought of him lying in his bed, his hand closed around his cock as he came with a moan of your name on his lips. 

“Why didn’t you just come see me?” You huff, choking on a breath when he crooks his finger inside you, stroking your walls.

“Too much was goin’ on. Maria had me on patrol every morning, then I had guard duty to watch the folks that just left town. I wanted to see you, but I didn’t have enough time. You know I like takin’ my time with you, sweetheart.”

His excuse is valid enough, and he really does like taking his time with you. Content to just plant himself between your legs for hours to coax you through orgasm after orgasm. Or fuck you slow and deep, pulling back just when you’re on the crest to watch you squirm before he builds you up again, over and over until you’re practically screaming at him to let you cum. 

Still…he couldn’t have stopped by once to explain his situation? 

He slides in another finger, and you vaguely register that the song Maria and Tommy sauntered out to the dance floor to is coming to an end and another is starting in its place. They’ll be back soon.

“We can’t do this here,” you hiss, attempting to pull his hand out from under your panties, but it’s half hearted. You don’t want him to stop.

But he pulls back anyway, “If that’s what you want.”

It’s sweet, it’s considerate.. But he’s a damn jerk, because he knows how long you’ve been waiting for this. He knows you want him to keep going. Especially judging by the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark and hooded, the corner of wicked his lips twisting up…

He just wants you to fucking say it.

“Joel…” you grumble.

“What? You change your mind?”

Your fingers curl around his hand, tugging it down again, pressing it up against your throbbing core. That’s gotta be answer enough.

He’s not having it. “C’mon baby. Use your words…”

You scowl at him, muttering, “Don’t stop.”

“Speak up, sweetheart. Can’t hear ya. It’s loud in here.” 

Ughhhh! “Please touch me, Joel. Please don’t stop.”

He smirks. “As you wish.” 

Princess Bride reference. Cute. Makes your heart flop a little in your chest.

Joel eases his fingers back inside you agonizingly slow. He strokes the pads of his fingers inside you. A tingle unfurls in your chest, starts in your toes and spreads up your calves, and a low moan tumbles from your lips.

Thankfully, from anyone passing by, it would look like you two are just deep in a private conversation. Joel, pressed against you, leaning in close, and you, shielded from view by his broad shoulders, listening intently to whatever he’s saying.

They just don’t know that he’s breaking you down, brick by brick. That he’s making you leak all over this fucking booth. That it’s pure filth he’s muttering in your ear and not a juicy secret.

“God, you look so pretty takin’ my fingers, like you were made for 'em. Such a good girl."

“Joel, oh my god…”

Your breaths are coming out hotter, heavier, especially when Joel’s fingers slip out only to glide up through your folds to run delicious patterns over your clit.

“Fuck…” You whimper, the heat in your lap pooling thick and abundant. Your hips chase after his fingers, grinding against his hand.

You’re dangerously close.

“That feel good, baby…?” He eggs you on, his voice a rough rumble of thunder against your ear. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly, how enthusiastically you’re nodding, and Joel slips his fingers back inside you, his thumb coming down to rub circles on your clit as he fucks his digits up and into you.

The music is loud, but beneath it, you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy as Joel takes you apart, stroke by stroke, a steady metronome. 

You grasp onto his forearm desperately, your nails digging into the muscles there with a gasp of his name. “Joel-“

Shit. You’re seriously going to cum in this shitty little moth-eaten booth in the only bar in this entire town. You won’t be able to live it down. But you can’t bring yourself to care–you’re close, on the precipice, and you meet Joel’s dark, dangerous eyes, urging you to cum on his hand with a C’mon baby, you can do it, give it to me and you might, it’s right there it’s—

“…-ere did you learn to do that?”

The unexpected sound of Tommy’s voice has you frantically ripping Joel’s hand out from beneath your dress and scrabbling for a napkin to wipe up the mess on your thighs, on the fucking booth, your orgasm rearing back angrily and setting into a dull buzz in your limbs.

The wicked man beside you scoots himself further under the booth, likely to hide the hard-on he’s sporting. He wipes his hand on his thigh. You think you can hear him grumbling angrily under his breath at the interruption, but you’re not sure, ears instead trained on the sound of your friends getting closer. 

You reach for the drink menu, pretending to read it.

“I took dance classes in my free time before the outbreak,” Maria says as the couple closes back in on the booth you and Joel were totally not defiling. She shimmies at the both of you. “You guys really missed out on some of my great moves while you were moping.”

“We weren’t moping,” Joel defends.

“Sure…” Maria drawls.

If she only knew.

“I’m just not really feeling well,” you say. 

Maria’s playful grin falls into a look of concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Need to go lay down, I think. It’s been a long day.”

“Let me walk you home,” Joel says, grabbing his coat he had slung over the booth and strategically positioning it over his pants when he stands.

“Thanks.”

“Feel better!” Tommy says, and you give him a grateful nod as Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back and he steers you out of the stuffy bar and into the cool summer night.

Katydids sing in the dark as you and Joel stroll down the street to your house tucked at the end of the cul-de-sac. Fireflies light the asphalt. An owl hoots overhead. 

“You really feelin' bad?” He asks quietly, once you’ve reached your front porch. 

"No. I just wanted to get out of there."

He hums. "Are you still mad at me?"

“I dunno.” Not really. You’re just pissed you were interrupted. Still, he needs to feel some remorse for his radio silence, so you don’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely as you unlock your door. “Really I am. There’s no excuse. I should’a made the time to at least tell you what was goin’ on. I’m sorry.” 

You open your door and pause in the warm light from the foyer. “You can make it up to me by fucking me.” 

“As good as that sounds, I wanna make sure you’re okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh. Ugh. Usually Joel’s fine with pushing things to the side. Bottling things up. He does it a lot. You sort of wish he would just drop it right now. You don't want to deal with the weird feeling in your chest that's been here all night. But he’s looking at you, waiting.

"I just thought...Maybe you were done with this. With me."

He frowns. “Hell no. I like what we have. I don’t want it to stop anytime soon." He steps forward, wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in.

"Me too..." You murmur, hands drifting up his back, pressing him in close for a hug. "I'm glad you're safe."

He chuckles. “Course I'm safe. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you say into his shoulder. "I just worry about you.”

"Yeah? You worry 'bout me a lot?"

You pinch his stomach playfully. "You're my best friend. Of course I do."

He pulls away a bit, huffs a tiny laugh. But it's not like his usual laughs. It's forced. Quiet. "Right."

You're a little too drunk to ask about it, and still horny enough to want to get things back on track, so you look into his dark eyes, smiling coyly, lip tucked between your teeth as you roll your hips into him. "Now that I forgive you…think you can fuck me now? Cuz it’s been way too fucking long.”

He groans softly, yes ma'am, and presses his lips against yours.

Okay, yes, he’s your friend but you also kind of kiss sometimes.

You tug him inside the house and shut the door, your mouth still latched to his. The moment the door snicks into the frame, he’s got you pressed against it, his hand rucking up your dress to bunch it around your hips while his tongue dips into your mouth.

You swiftly unbutton his flannel, sliding it down his arms. Your hands find his chest, fingernails scraping over his pecs, through his dark chest hair that thins out the further south it goes, but thickens again into a happy trail that disappears below his waistband.

Fuck, he’s so…

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, a repeat of earlier, and you break the kiss to drop your head against the door with a thump when his fingers find your clit again.

“Jesus, you’re so wet.”

…And there he goes.

“Three fucking weeks, Joel,” you bite, though the end of his name melts into a moan when his fingers sink inside you again. 

“Didn’t know you were keepin’ count.” 

“Fuck—“ He quirks a finger. “S-shut up.”

He huffs out an amused chuckle into your cheek, trailing kisses from your jaw down your throat. His teeth sink in, and his mouth suctions over your skin, delivering a beautiful little mark on your flesh that he kisses gently after. It drives you fucking crazy.

“I’ll shut up if you let me taste you,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice vibrating pleasantly through you.

Your pussy pulses around his fingers, your clit honest to god throbbing against his palm, and now he knows you really want him to eat you out, especially when you follow up with an enthusiastic nod.

Joel slips his hand out from beneath your panties to lift you up around his hips and carry you to your bedroom. He plops you on the edge of your mattress and immediately sinks to his knees on the floor, eye level with your cunt.

“God, been thinkin’ about you for weeks. Missed this pussy so goddamn much,” he says, leaning in to kiss your inner thigh.

His lips trail down your leg as he pulls your panties off and stuffs them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Let’s see how good I did,” he says, pulling your legs apart to get a good look at what a mess he’s made of you. He hums appreciatively at the sight of your glistening folds, licking his lips. That enough has you clenching around nothing, fingers tightening in the bed covers. 

“You seein’ what I do to you? No one else can make you this wet, ain’t that right?”

“You’re such an arrogant ass,” you growl.

He just smirks as he lowers himself again between your legs. He puffs a breath of cool air along your slit before listing over to kiss your other inner thigh, grinning when you groan in frustration.

“Joel, please.”

“So impatient.”

“I’ve waited thr—“

“Three weeks, yeah I know.”

He presses forward to lick a hot stripe up your folds with the flat of his tongue, and your hand flies to his hair, anchoring him closer to your pussy.

“S-shit,” you whimper. 

He lightly drags a finger along your slit, the slight pressure fucking agonizing. 

“Joel.” You sort of want to scream at him. He’s been teasing you all fucking night. 

“Alright,” he laughs and allows you to guide his head back down until the bridge of his scarred nose is pressed into your folds and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. 

He takes his sweet time unraveling you, alternating between licking into you and sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth. You can’t say much, reduced to wordless cries with each movement of his mouth. 

It’s messy, sloppy, but you like it. You like seeing the wetness on his face when he pulls back for air. You like the way his hair is pulled in all different directions, all because of your greedy hands. You like the way he has to push one of his hands down to palm himself in his jeans, just to relieve some of that pressure.

He clearly loves eating you out. And you very much love that he loves it.

But you’re getting kind of desperate. Kind of really want to cum. So…

Your hips begin to grind against his face as he sucks on your clit, and he seems to receive the message because he slides two thick fingers into you and starts to eat you out in earnest, delighting with a low moan when your legs clench around his head, the scruffy hairs of his beard tickling your inner thighs. 

“Holy shit, Joel.”

“Mm—“ He moans.

Your foot keeps slipping off the bed, so Joel’s large, warm hand curls around your calves to situate your legs over his shoulders. This new position grants you more leverage to chase after your orgasm with steady rolls of your hips into his hungry mouth.

He sucks your clit as he thrusts his fingers into you at a brutal pace, hitting your g-spot that has you jerking against him with each stroke. His hand plants on your abdomen to hold you down, stilling your desperate movements.

You’re getting close, the pressure building and magnifying as Joel moans against your pussy, the vibrations driving you insane.

“Fuck, Joel—hah-“

“Mm.”

“Jesus, Joel—fuck—oh my—hnhh—”

“Mhm.” He encourages.

It shatters in you, white hot and falling over you, a waterfall of warmth. Your body straightens stiff as a board, back arching off the bed, quivering as you cum against Joel’s mouth, your slick running down his chin and catching in his beard.

You try to push him away, your orgasm overwhelming on its own, but Joel hates it when you do that, wants to make sure you really feel it, so he presses himself back in to lick and guide you through it. Drawing it out.

It has your head falling back, eyes rolling into your skull, mouth dropping open on a satisfied moan. 

He only gives you a short amount of time to recover while he pulls his jeans and briefs off. You tug your sundress over your head. And then he’s rising up to meet you again, scooting you back until your head almost brushes the headboard. He sinks his thick cock into you as he presses his lips against yours, muffling your surprised and needy moan.

And then he reaches up, his large hand gripping the headboard as your legs wrap around his waist, and then he’s fucking you in earnest, each snap of his hips sheathing his cock fully inside you in a desperate rhythm.

And all you can do is lay there and take it and fall apart.

“S-shit, baby,” he grunts. “That’s it.”

“Oh God…” You whine. 

Your hands scrabble for purchase on his back, your blunt nails scratching up his sun-freckled skin, feeling the muscles bunch and shift as he holds the thumping headboard steady, his knuckles turning white as he grips it. His other hand finds its spot next to your head, holding himself up as he obliterates your pussy. 

He prepared you well for him, but you’re still stretched so full, the breaths knocked from your lungs with each thrust of his cock into you. His pelvic bone brushes your clit with the roll of his hips, the uneven pressure dragging you closer and closer to that metaphoric cliff.

And his moans certainly help, too. He’s not quiet, between strings of praises are ragged moans and tiny whimpers. It only turns you on more.

“Fuck, Joel, can’t leave me without this again.”

“Trust me baby,” he groans. “Another damn week and I wouldn’t’ve survived.”

His hand releases the headboard, slides down to tangle in your hair. He tugs your head back, and molds your lips to his. Teeth nipping your bottom lip before his tongue dives into your mouth. You moan appreciatively.

You can hardly breathe, but god it’s perfect. This moment is so fucking perfect. You want to take a picture of it. Frame it on your damn wall. 

You’re sure it looks like he’s fucking eating you right now, but you like it. You want him to consume you. Want him to be yours… Want to be his.

Stop. He’s your best friend.

He pulls back to lick a stripe from the corner of your lips along your jaw before sucking marks and kisses down your throat, his hips still thrusting into you steadily. His hand squeezes your breast, rolls your nipple between his index and thumb.

“Oh…oh—“ God… 

“You close baby girl?”

“Fuck, ye-yes… Yes need you…”

“N-need me to help you cum?”

He’s losing it. You’re losing it. Fuck please!

“Please, Joel—“

He pulls back enough to watch you, lips pink and puffy and kissed the fuck out. His eyes drift to where he’s thrusting inside you, dick slick with your arousal, sheathing itself inside you with wet, fucking nasty sounds.

“God, you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect...” 

His hand drifts down and you tremble, brows screwing together as his thumb fiddles with your clit.

White hot arousal pools in your core, unrelenting. Unstoppable. You feel like a damn metamorphic rock. Becoming something new under all this heat and pressure. 

It crests, crashing, filling your insides with hot magma as your mouth drops open on a silent scream, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy clamps down on Joel’s cock repeatedly.

He follows right behind you, painting your insides with thick, hot cum, leaking out of your entrance over his cock and down your ass cheeks.

You hiss when he pulls out, feeling empty. He gathers the cum that leaked out with his thumb and pushes it back into your quivering hole. 

“So goddamn pretty…” he murmurs. “Look so pretty with my cum inside you…”

Friends. You’re friends. 

So why the hell does this feel like so much more? Why is it that you’re so turned on by him practically claiming you?

You’re still trying to catch your breath when he lays down beside you, brushing your hair out of your sweaty face. “Feel better now? Not so mad anymore?”

“Mhm,” you hum happily.

He leans in, presses his lips against yours softer, slower…meaningfully. You kiss him back, tugging him close. His arm snakes around your waist, tugging you into him. You're pretty sure normal friends with benefits don't do this. But you and Joel have never been normal.

In those long three weeks you had started to worry maybe he'd never come back. It fucking scared you. Now, you're unsure you ever want to let go.

When he pulls back his eyebrows are furrowed, lips drawn in a frown. He looks concerned. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"You're cryin'..." He wipes your teary eyes with his thumb.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You scramble to wipe your eyes, sniff. Smile at him. Reassure. Act normal. "Oh, no-I'm fine. Just... think I'm still drunk."

"Somethin' going on? You looked like you were gonna cry back at the Bison, too. Did I do somethin'?"

You shake your head, squeeze his arm. "No, of course not. I'm just being weird. Tired, I think.”

"You sure?"

"Mhm.”

"You can tell me anythin’, y'know?"

What? Like I think I'm in love with you? Fat chance.

"I know. Everything's fine."

You’re such a damn liar.

He can see right through you, but he lets it go. "Okay. If you're sure." He leans in to press a kiss to your jaw. Friend. Friend friend friend. "I'd love to stay but I gotta go. Ellie's probably wonderin' where I'm at."

Joel sits up, swings his legs over the edge and stands. Grabs his jeans, pulls them up. His belt buckle jangles as he slides it through the loops.

“I really did miss you, by the way,” he says, looking down at you. “You. Not just the sex.”

His words warm your cool, exposed body. Fuel the burning the realization, I love you. “I missed you, too.”

He turns to leave, and you see the fabric poking out of his back pocket.

"You still have my panties."

He smirks. "Guess you'll hav'ta come over to get them back."

You smile back, blushing. “Looking forward to it.”

He leans down to kiss your head, "Night, angel."

"Night," you say faintly.

Only when your front door slams shut do you allow yourself to give into the fantasies. To imagine what it’d be like to call him yours. To not keep things a secret. To tell people you're together. To be his.

Damnit, you’re in trouble.

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 6

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Feyre is in the Night Court and Y/N is trying to overcome the lingering guilt she feels as Cassian leaves for a week. Tensions between the Archeron twins comes to a boiling point where Feyre decides that she wants to take part in the court and meet the inner Circle.

Content warnings: Past trauma ,sibling arguments,

A/N: I am blown away by the love you guys have shown this series and I appreciate every comment, like and reblog. It seriously means more than you know! I have so much planned and plotted out for this I hope you guys are ready!

I made a playlist for this series if you're interested in listening while reading these are just songs that help me write/reminds me of Cassian and Reader

Masterlist Chapter 5

I woke up and I was the only one in the chair with a blanket wrapped snugly around me. I turned to see Rhys resting his hand on his head, his eyes closed. I sat up and stretched and when I looked over to the bed I gasped as eyes like my own stared back at me. “Feyre.” I whispered.

Rhys stirred and looked over to us, “Good Morning,” Feyre was about to talk but began coughing and Rhys was quick to produce a glass of water in his hand and pass it to Feyre, “Drink. You’ve been out for a few days.” She nodded to him in thanks and took a long drink from the glass.

She looked over at me and pursed her lips, “You’re alive.” I nodded words lost to me. “How long have you been here?”

I wrung my hands together nervously, ‘Since Tamlin forced me out.” I said through gritted teeth.

Feyre nodded her head as if digesting how long I’ve been here. “You abandoned me.” She whispered and it felt as if my heart shattered. “You just left me alone. Tamlin told me you died!”

I crossed my arms and leaned back into the armchair. “Right because he had been a picture of pleasantries and kindness to me since that day, he fucking took us away.”

Fury shone in my sister’s eyes, “Yet you could have come back, you could have found me. Instead, you left me alone, didn’t even try to let me know you were okay to see if I was okay!” I flinched guilt swirling in my gut.

“You make it sound like I did it on purpose.” I whispered, “Like I wasn’t attacked in the woods compliments of your priestess pal who left me to die.” Feyre’s eyes widened as I rose from my chair. “Tamlin sent a very clear message of his disdain for me.” I walked to the door ignoring Rhys’ attempt to speak to me in my mind. I opened the door and looked back at her; tears were streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, I failed you a second time, Feyre.” Out of the corner of my eyes I saw sadness flash in Rhys’ face, and I shut the door and walked away.

My feet led me to the dining hall my ears ringing, I didn’t even register where I was until a familiar voice called to me, “Y/N?” I looked up to see Cassian walking in from the balcony, he was wearing his leathers, his siphons gleaming on display.

I swallowed the tightness in my throat, and tried to give him a smile, “Going somewhere?”

Cassian’s brows furrowed concern laced on his features, but he nodded, “I need to go out to the Illyrian camps and make sure my soldiers are up to my standards.”

“And you were going to leave without saying goodbye, Old Man?”

Cassian’s wings twitched as his eyes widened. “Old man?”

I jokingly pressed a palm to my forehead, “Oh I’m sorry, I meant Old Male? Better?”

The General crossed his arms looking at the floor and muttered, “I’d prefer it if Old was dropped all together,” He looked back at me his features softening at me as I grinned back at him. “Do you think I’m old?”

“Cassian, you’re over 500 years old. By human standards you’re ancient. Though I think you’ve just begun your life in terms of the fae so no I don’t think you’re old. However, I will be calling you old just to get under your skin.”

He rolled his eyes, and they go vacant briefly when he comes back to, he walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me. He held me tightly and pressed his hand to the back of my head pressing my cheek against his chest, leather, and sandalwood grounding me, “It’s not your fault, Princess.” He pulls away and cups cheeks.

Avoiding his comment I whispered, “I’ll miss you,” I wrapped my hands around his rubbing small circles with my thumbs.

Cassian pulls my face closer to our breaths intermingling, “I’ll be home as soon as soon as I can,” He pressed his warm soft lips on my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut. Too quickly he pulled away and lowered our hands from my face. I laced my fingers with his and we walked out to the balcony. Cassian flared his wings, the sun highlighting the dark red hues and membrane on his wings. He turned to me and gave me a playful wink “Safe travels, General, wouldn’t want you to hurt your brittle old bones.” He laughed, flicked my nose, and launched into the air.

I leaned on the balcony railing watching him take to the skies in awe and tilted my head when he paused and turned to me, I gave him a smile, knowing he probably couldn’t see me and waved at him. He lifted his hand in response and turned and headed out, I stayed out there until he was out of my line of sight and headed into the dining room. Only to be met with a second pair of Hazel eyes. “So, Cassian’s pretty cute,” He joked throwing the line I said to him a few nights before.

Heat flared in my cheeks, “Busy body.”

Azriel just pointed his thumbs at himself, “Spymaster.”

“So, a professional busybody.” Az laughed clutching his stomach. “I liked it better when you were quiet, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel nudged me with his shoulder, “No you don’t.”

I pat the top of his head and the shadowsinger grumbled, “You’re right, I don’t.” I looked to the doors as if I could see Feyre all the way from here. “Where are you off to?” I asked and Azriel’s face showed no indication of his feelings, but his eyes held a glimpse of sadness there.

His shadows danced around his neck and a few strayed from him and swirled and weaved around my legs. The cool kiss of their touch a great reprieve to my heated skin. “I have the day off I was going to go into the city for a bit to have lunch with Mor. I’d figured I’d see if you want to train?”

“Yes, please, I can’t go back into that room. Not yet anyway.”

Azriel nods his head to the door, “Go get changed we’ll work on wielding weapons.” I smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek and ran to my room to change into my leathers. I braided my hair into a crown and walked to my door. Opening it I was shocked to see Rhys on the other side arm raised to knock. I’m pretty sure Rhys expression matched my own as he lowered his hand tucking it in his pocket. “You, okay?”

I leaned against the door frame, “Truthfully?” He nodded, “No, I’m not. She thinks I ran away and abandoned her. Thanks to Tamlin and Ianthe and their pretty little lies.” I swallowed the tears, “The way she looked at me, Rhys. It hurt.” Rhys sighed and I could see the exhaustion in his features and taking over his body. “When was the last time you slept?”

He waved me off, “Don’t deflect.”

I crossed my arms, “I’m not deflecting. I answered your question, and I am asking a simple question in regards to the wellbeing of my friend.”

Light sparked into his violet eyes, “We’re friends?”

“Now who’s deflecting?” I cup my hand on his cheek, “You need to sleep, Rhys. She’ll be fine, give her some time alone to process everything.”

Rhys placed his hand on top of mine, “You’re a good sister you know that right?”

“There have been many moments where Feyre would disagree with you.” My mind trailed off to Under the Mountain.

I twisted the goblet in my hand, another night another party that Feyre and I are the full spectacle of in matching outfits. If you could call the see through material that barely covered my breast and my ass an outfit. Feyre had swirls that matched her tattoo throughout her whole body and the same markings swirled on my skin. I remained close to my sister when Tamlin approached Feyre. I averted my gaze to give them privacy.

My eyes scanned across the room looking out for Rhysand and before I could look back to my sister and Tamlin was walking away from her. Feyre whispered in my ear, “Cover for me, Tamlin wants to meet with me for a moment.”

Relief washed over my chest, “Is he going to get you out?” I whispered so low it in her ear. “Feyre, he has to get you out.” I had her face me so she could understand.

Feyre rolled her eyes, “I’ll be fine.” And before I had the opportunity to argue further, she left. I scowled quietly as I watched her walk away and saw the High Lord of the Spring trail after her.

I glared at the door they went behind, hoping that I could him to get her out. A hand fell on the small of my back causing me to jump and Rhys’ voice was against my ear, “Just me.” He removed his hand, and he looked over to where Feyre and Tamlin ran off to and his jaw tightened. The only indication on his calm demeanor that told me he was upset. “Where is Feyre, Y/N?”

I quirked my brow, “I think we both know, you know exactly where she is, High Lord.” There was a pause, and for whatever reason I asked in a hushed tone, “He isn’t going to get her out, is he?”

“No, he isn’t.” Dread took over. I looked down at the goblet contemplating drinking the fae wine and forget my inhibitions, fueled by the anger and disappointment of not only the blonde haired green eyed high lord and my foolish love-sick sister. “You’ve been avoiding it this long, don’t start because you’re angry. That could lead you down a dark rabbit hole.” He grabs the goblet from my hand and drinks the contents, “Stay close to Lucien.” He hands me the empty cup.

“Where are you going?”

Rhys voice floats in my mind, “To fix this.”

Rhys squeezed my hand bringing me back, “That wasn’t your fault either.” I curse under my breath and rebuild my shields. “Tamlin has made a mess of things time and again. It’s going to catch up with him in the end.”

I nod lowering my hand that he is still gripping, “I should go Azriel is waiting for me to start training.” Rhys nods and moves out of the way, releasing my hand. “Go to sleep, High Lord. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to need with your Feyre Darling.” I heard his chuckle as I left to go find Azriel.

Azriel was in the training ring on the roof his arms crossed, “You’re late.”

I lowered my gaze, “Sorry, I ran into Rhysand.” I met his piercing gaze, “Don’t suppose you’ll go easy on me for it.”

Amusement graced his features, and his lips quirked upward, “Not a chance. Pushups, now.” I groaned, “Keep it up Archeron, and I’m going to double how many you must do. Give me thirty.” The morning sun caused sweat to drip down my brow on the first ten pushups. My arms were already shaking by the twentieth pushup, “I am going to have to kick Cassian’s ass for his lack of core training with you.” I was able to finish the pushups and slowly stood up my arms and legs shaking.

Azriel made his way over to weapons, “You have a preference on weapon?”  

I shrugged, “I only had access to a dagger, I don’t know anything else.” I followed him, and looked at the table, there were a few daggers, two longswords and a bow and arrow. The weapon reminded me of Feyre, “I have no interest in archery.” I murmured biting the inside of my cheek as a fresh wave of guilt that washed over me.

Azriel didn’t look over at me and simply said, “Noted.” He grabbed the dagger and handed it to me. “Show me what you can do with this.”

I walked over to the center of the training ring dummy that was on the other side and grabbed the tip of the dagger took in a deep breath as I raised my arm and, on the exhale, threw the dagger as it hit right in the chest of the dummy. I turned to Azriel’s face was unreadable, “What?”

Azriel shook his head, “Just not what I was expecting, you did this when you hunted in the human lands? You ever worried about missing?”

I gave him a wink, “I never miss, Shadowsinger.”

He grabbed a dagger from his belt, not as ornate as his other one that he always kept within his reach “Prove it.” So, we spent the rest of the hour throwing the daggers splinters from the wooden dummy everywhere. “I’m impressed, you have quite the arm Y/N. Who taught you how to throw?”

“I taught myself.” Azriel quirked a brow, “My dad was attacked by some creditors. Nesta and Elain remained hidden in our room, Feyre was begging them to stop. After they shattered his leg, I knew I needed to take action. I took a knife one of the few things we were able to keep, and I threw it and one of them collapsed to the floor. I didn’t even understand that I had killed him. Until the other guys looked at me with pure horror on their faces. They fled right after that. But the damage was done my father’s leg was destroyed and 4 sisters carried out a dead body to the forest to be eaten by the creatures that lurked there.”

“Turns out fae and human are more alike than people think at least in their cruelty.” Az said in response, no judgement, no pity, just stating a fact.

“Their kindness too, Az.” He gave a nod, “Would you mind taking me to the town house?”

“You don’t want to stay here? Close to Feyre.” Again, there was no judgement in his tone simply asking a question.

“Not today. Plus, most of my clothes are in the town house anyway and my journal.” I left out the part about Cassian gifting that to me.

“Sure, do you want to go now?” I nodded and he held out his hand which I graciously took my hand, and his shadows consumed us, and we were in front of the town house.

I looked at him, “That’s a neat trick,” A shadow slithers up to her hand and she coos at it, “Is there anything you little guys can’t do.”

Azriel made a face, “They are shadows not, puppies.”

The shadow kisses my cheek and wraps around my hair before slinking back toward its master, “I think they liked it.”

Az groaned, “They did.” I couldn’t contain my laughter. “You going to be, okay?” Rhys was kind of worried about you.” He paused, “Cassian had fought Rhys to stay. He had to pull rank.”

“He shouldn’t have abandoned his duties to help me. He doesn’t even know me very well.” I shrugged.

Azriel smiled, “Cassian has a big heart, when he sees someone is hurting, he will do anything in his power to make them feel better. I do know he enjoys your company and cares about you.”

Heat rose in my cheeks at Azriel’s words. “Well hopefully he doesn’t have to stay wherever he is at for too long. I find that I enjoy his company too.” He smiled, “Have a nice lunch Az. I’ll talk to you later.” He waved and his shadows consumed him, and he was gone. It made my way inside and ran to my room and began writing in my journal pouring out my emotions from the last few days.

A few days had gone by, and Az has continued teaching me how to hone my skills in throwing daggers along with sparring with a long sword. I spent my afternoons writing and despite Rhys’ efforts avoiding my sister. It was about a day and a half before Rhys and her came into the town house, and I just kept to myself. I kept to my room and wrote in my journal the words were flowing through me and I felt this wave of creativity. I wasn’t writing stories but just getting words on paper was a start.

The week’s end approached and there was a knock on my door as I was sitting in my bed reading a book. “Come in.” Rhys stepped in and I gave him a smile, “How is she?”

He gave me a warm smile, “Good, she wants to meet the Inner Circle. Wants to work with us.” I nodded, “So we’re having dinner tonight.”

“Okay. Have fun.” I murmured flipping the page. The book was ripped from my hand and disappeared, “Rhysand!” He walked to my closet and picked up the new gown that Mor insisted I buy weeks ago and dropped it on my bed.

“Get changed, get ready, we’re leaving at the top of the hour.” He crossed his arms and stared at the floor, “She’s been asking about you and you’ve been blocking me out. Just try, okay?” I nodded and he comes up and kisses my forehead, “Good,” he gave my arm a comforting squeeze, “Oh, did I mention, Cassian is home.” My head perked up and he had a knowing smirk on his face. “He was wondering where you were and why you weren’t in the House of Wind.” He flicked my nose, and I swatted his hand. “Get dressed.” And he walked out.

Cassian’s POV

It was an agonizingly long week Devlon was fighting me on every order and had a comeback for every word I said. Knowing that I was going to come home and get to spend some time with Y/N. Leaving her when she looked so devastated and Rhys sharing the argument between the twins in my mind set my blood boiling. I had to remember that Feyre was also hurting but it still didn’t make it alright for making Y/N feel guilty for something Tamlin fucking did.

The days blurred together but then I was on the balcony of the House of Wind and the air felt stale and I looked for anyone. My wings slumped a little bit I was hoping to see Y/N. I felt familiar claws against my shields, and I let them down.

Welcome home brother, Rhys’s voice flooded my brain.

I walked into my room and began to take off my leathers, Thanks, where is everyone?”

Azriel is wandering around the city for something, Mor is coming back from the Court of Nightmares and the twins are in the townhome with me. Everyone is coming out there to the House of Wind for Dinner.

Have the two of them made any headway?

No, they haven’t, Y/N has kept to herself except for training with Azriel. I am about to drag her out for dinner. I just wanted to welcome you home.

Thanks, I’ll see you soon.

***

I walked into the dining room and was greeted by a bubbly blonde, “How was Windhaven?”

I snorted, “Shitty,” I wrapped my arms around her, “How was the Court of Nightmares?”

Mor chuckled, “Shitty.” There was a brief pause before the two of us chuckled and took our seats. Amren sat a goblet in her hand. “How are you, Amren,” Mor gave her a smile.

Amren quirked a brow, “Ready to get this over with.”

“Come on, Little one, you don’t want to meet Feyre Cursebreaker see what she’s all about?” I countered she just scoffed and sipped her goblet.

Thunderous wings announced my brother’s presence both Rhys and Azriel had a sister and something in my chest eased to seeing Y/N. Rhys led a woman who looked so like her sister she was in a dark blue gown, and she looked beautiful. My eyes gazed over to my brother who was helping take off Y/N’s cloak and I swore the room was void of air.  Y/N was in a light blue gown shimmering with sparkles looking like water on the sunset with thin straps and a slit started at the middle of her thigh that showcased her now toned thigh. Her hair was pinned to one side soft curls falling to her full chest.

Rhys slipped into my mind, Brother, close your mouth you’re drooling.

I shook my head and subconsciously wiped my mouth and looked over to Az who gave me a knowing wink before kissing the top of Mor’s head in greeting. I could feel eyes on me, and I turned my gaze back to Y/N her smile almost made me fall to my knees. And before I knew it she was sprinting toward me, I grinned back at her and opened my arms right as she hopped into my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You’re home.”

I squeezed her tightly and took in her scent of Jasmine and vanilla. “I missed you too, Princess.”

There was a cough, and I opened my eyes to meet Rhys’ and I place her down and I whispered in her ear, “You look beautiful tonight.” A blush crept up on her cheeks as the grin never left her face. I led her to one of the seats in between Azriel and myself.

Rhys looked over to Feyre who did not leave the balcony, I decided I should break her tension, “Come on Feyre, we don’t bite, Unless you ask us to.” There was slap of the back of my head and saw Az giving me a pointed look and Y/N trying hard not to laugh.

“Cassian, no one has taken you up on that offer.” Rhys countered as he had his hand on Feyre’s back, she gave me a small smile and I nodded my head and gave her a wink. “The loud one over there is Cassian, Azriel on your sister’s left, you obviously know Mor and Amren, my second in command.” Rhys led her to the table and food appeared.

“So, you took down a Middengard Wyrm, pretty impressive, Feyre.” I said piling food to my plate, Y/n tensed beside me, and Feyre looked to her plate.

“No I didn’t.” Feyre murmured her eyes looming over her twin, “That was Y/N.”

I turn to the human woman beside me, “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

She simply shrugged. “You didn’t ask, it wasn’t worth talking about.” She focused on her food.

Rhys kicked my foot under the table and gave me a pointed glare. Again another few moments went by and Rhys filled the silence with what he would require of Feyre if she were to join the Night Court and fully leave the Spring Court.

 Feyre is nodding along, and Y/N had been picking at her food. I bumped my knee against hers, “Are you okay?”

She looked up at me and she smiled, “Yeah I’m great.” She leaned up to my ear and I tried to tamper my excitement of her chest pressing against my arm, “I missed you, General.”

I met her eyes and noticed her pupils were blown, “Likewise, Princess.”

“What did you do to my sister?” Feyre blurted, “What spell do you have her under?”

Y/N blinked, and her head slowly turned to her twin, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never seen you this way, you were so cold in the Spring court and the human lands, surely, they have some type of hold on you that you are so comfortable with them. Rhys is capable-“

Y/N slammed her hands on the table and rose from her seat, her dress pooling on the floor, a true vision with rage contorting her beautiful face. “Don’t. Just don’t.” She points to Rhys, “Rhysand, offered me a bargain tattoo as a way of communicating with him in case I needed him when I was in the Spring Court. And has made sure I have been comfortable since being here.” She points to Mor, “Mor, has been a friend and a confidant and welcomed me with open arms.” She points to me and Azriel, “And these two, saved my life from the Naga when your precious High Lord left me out to rot. Everyone has been training me to fight, to strengthen my mental shield, and to read and write. Something that they are still willing to help with you if you choose to take it to give you back control.” Her hand finds mine and links her pinky around mind and my chest hummed with warmth, “You may not trust Rhysand or his friends. You don’t have to like them if you don’t want. However, by while you’re here under Rhys’s protection you will show him and his family some fucking respect, when they provided you aid, because Tamlin failed to.” Feyre balled her fist, and I could see her clench her jaw. Though Rhys had a look of shock on his face his cool mask melted away. Azriel tensed but not because he was uncomfortable it was because he was fighting back tears and Mor gave her a small smile sipping her eye. I could not help the pride swelling in my chest. The selfless, generous woman just defended my family against her own and I focus back on my plate ignoring the erratic beat of my heart.

It was Amren who chuckled low that spoke, “Oh how, I like you, Girl.”

The rest of the dinner was sat in silence, but Y/N’s pinky never unhooked from mine.

Chapter 7

Story tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

[maxillness]

Secret Love Song || LH44 x Russell!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, age-gap, degrading kink, praise kink, sub!lewis

Wordcount: 1.4k

“Oh, fuck. Just like that, baby” He moaned from above her. His hands were tangled in her hair as his back was pushed up against the door of his drivers room

“Your lips feel so good around me” He couldn’t stop praising her, even though he knew she was gonna be in charge when they got to her place after the race later

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this; saliva dripping down your chin, red cheeks, my cock in your mouth” His body was starting to sweat as he twitched in her mouth

“Just like that. Fucking hell, I’m gonna-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before he shot his hot loath down her throat

She stood up as she swallowed his cum. He zipped his trousers back up before kissing her tenderly “I’m gonna return the favour when we get to your place after the race, okay love?”

“If you win” She kissed his cheek before leaving the room. They both managed to get back to the others without being seen leaving his drivers room

“Where were you?” George asked her with a hint of concern in his voice

“I was just at the bathroom, no need to worry your pants” She chuckled as she walked over to him

“I’m just looking out for you” He said with soft eyes

“George, I’m 20, you don’t need to look out for me anymore” He had always protected her through out their childhood, he was worse then their parents

“You’re right. I’m sorry”

Normally after her and Lewis had fucked or she would have sucked him off, they would be clingy with each other. Her lips would be all over him. On his lips, cheek, neck, throat, chest, stomach, anywhere they could be, they would be

But they couldn’t this time. Nobody knew they were together, and god forbid they ever told anyone, her brother would absolutely destroy him, both on and outside the track

I wanna kiss you so bad rn

She heard the ping of the message she had sent across the garage. She looked over to Lewis who had picked up his phone. He looked over at her before typing

I want to kiss you too love, but you know we can’t <3

She knew it was true, but what if they fucked with the rules? What if they stood in the corner and it was just a little peck before going back to talk to people they were talking to before

Win the race and my lips will be all over you ;)

She smiled as she sent the text. She looked over at Lewis who was blushing hard. He was talking with Bono who looked confused at him

She could hear their conversation, but she guessed Lewis’ excuse for his slightly red cheeks would be something like it was hot in the garage

It gave her some kind of rush, knowing she was the only one to draw this kind of reaction out of him

It also made her folds wet, but she would never dare to tell him that

She spend the rest of the day in the garage, sending him texts with either different kinds of praises, promises to fuck him when he wins, or wishes about the two of them

You’re always doing so good for me

You better do good on the track, Hamilton

I’m gonna fuck you dumb when you win

I’m gonna fuck your brains out

I wish you could hold me in your arms

I wish you could kiss me before your race

Every time she sent a text, she looked over at Lewis who would just blush harder every time, if that was even possible

Her brother had questioned her multiple times who she was texting, but she would always say it was one of her friends

Like wise did he ask Lewis, who said it was either his parents, his neighbour who was sitting Roscoe, or one of his friends

Stop sending me all those text love

Why? I can see you like them <3

She looked over at him, eyes went down to his slight boner in his trousers

You drive me crazy woman

At least I fuck as good as I drive you crazy ;)

He won the race, of course. I mean, if he hadn’t my won, maybe he wouldn’t get to fuck his teammates sister

“You need a lift home?” George asked her

“No thanks, George” She didn’t give him a reason why, but he brushed it off like he was used to it

“You did so good, baby” Her hand was on his inner thigh as he drove them to her apartment. His breath was heavier as her handed hockey closer to the place where he needed her the most

“Thank you, love” He said, his words almost getting caught in his throat. Her hand started stroking his thigh, making him harder by every stroke

They had barely entered the apartment when Lewis was all over her. His hands on her waist, pulled close to him as his lips were on hers and her hands were on his ass, squeezing him every so often

“Fuck, I want to return the favour, love” His lips traveled over to her jaw

“Then get to the bedroom, Lew” Her hands traveled him to stroke his sides

“No, I want you now” He backed her back so her ass hit the dinning table “Please” His hands went to the back of her thighs, lifting her up on the table

“Lewis, we should go to the bedroom” He had already gone to his knees as she spoke

He didn’t listen to her words, he instead proceeded to pull her closer to the edge of the table. He lifted her skirt up, giving him access to pull down her panties as she bucked her hips

She gave in, and let him do what he wanted to her. He threw her panties the floor beside them before spreading her knees, giving him more access to her cunt

He pulled one of her legs over his shoulder before darting his tongue out to lick through her folds

She moaned at the contact between his tongue and her clit. He flicked over it with his tongue as he entered her with on of his fingers

As her moans started getting loud, he inserted another finger “What wouldn’t your teammate think, huh? If he knew how you fuck his little sister” He hummed at her words giving her extra pleasure

She bucked her hips into his face, grinding on his tongue she came close to her orgasm “Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good for me” Hs Eleanor’s her head back, rolling her eyes into the back of her head “Fuck, I’m gonna cum”

A few more thrusts of his fingers and flicks of his tongue, and she came around his fingers. He rode out her high before pulling out of her and standing up

She got to the ground “The bedroom, Lew” He kissed her quick before going to the bedroom

She chuckled at his eagerness. She walked into the bedroom, seeing him already stripped naked and laid on the bed

“Good. You’re already ready for me” She smirked as she walked over to him

“I’m always ready for you, love” He said pulling her into his lap. She pulled her shirt off and unhooked her bra. She threw them both to the floor

She spit in her hand, and started stroking him slow. She lined herself up with his cock, slowly pushing him in making them both moan

“Fuck, you always fill me up so good, Lew” She smirked as she started moving. She loved hearing his moans and whimpers coming from him

“You sound so pretty” She kept praising him as he started bucking his hips up into her, meeting her thrusts

He gripped her hips tighter, slamming her down onto him. Both their moans were loud and heavy as they came closer to their orgasms

“You feel so good around me. Fuck, love. I fucking love you” He spoke between his moans “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum, fuck, please”

Her fingers went to her clit, circling it between her fingers. Her actions pushed her closer to her orgasm

“Cum for me, baby” He came into her, holding her down onto him. Him coming into her, sent her over the edge, coming around him for the second time today

She pulled off of him, going to the bathroom to get a damp towel to clean them both up. She laid down beside him, scooting close into him under the duvet

“I love you” He sighed holding her close kissing her forehead

“I love you too” She kissed his chest laying down hearing his heartbeat

[redwinewhiteroses]

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Masterlist

...Images numbered from left to right...

[ Image 1 ]

Your person might be going through a lot in life right now. It seems that they might be dealing with ups and downs relating to their career, education or other areas of their life. For some you might be experiencing some kind of hardship in your relationship. It's like as if they are sailing the rough seas or facing some issues. They are trying to keep their head above the water literally. They are trying to balance all areas of their life while trying to have more control of the circumstances that are currently happening in their lives. They feel like they don't have enough for themselves or to provide for you. There's this lack or scarcity mindset about not being able to give or receive enough. They are hopeful about the future and definitely tries to see the long term and as of now there isn't much action from their part. Your relationship might be facing some sort of stagnation due to your person's personal hardships. Things might not be going as this person has hoped and there's some delay or lack of fulfillment they are feeling. This person might have a vision that is taking too long to come into fruition. I'm also seeing they are contemplating making a choice about something whether it is moving on from a situation that is no longer serving them or trying to change their ways so better results can occur. I think this person believes you have treated them fairly and they definitely want to do right by you. This could be a new relationship for some or this might be a relationship that hasn't taken off the ground. For those of you who has a solid relationship, your partner may even be thinking about taking your relationship to the next level or considering commitment but worried they don't have all the resources they need in order to do it as they hope. They want to do it right. They just might lack the resources needed but they will eventually come up with an offer of commitment or otherwise. But as of now, they are incredibly busy juggling all the responsibilities in their life. I think your person is very much focussed in achieving balance and trying to do the right thing and trying to be more decisive in taking the right actions. As of now, your person isn't in the feels or trying not to think too much about it. Definitely more logical than emotional. Lastly I would say to have patience and to try to be more optimistic if things aren't going exactly the way you want. Self care might help. That's all I'm seeing for my dear pile ones.

Random messages :  Heartbreak, Burden, Too much, Break, Beachside, Saturn, Ask and you'll have it, Soul's desire, Think gain, Gentle monster, One more round, Why do you avoid me?, Nourishment, Milk and honey, I think I know something, Honeymoon

Songs : Exile - Taylor Swift

                2U - Justin Bieber

Hope this resonates. This is a collective reading so there were multiple circumstances comimg through. Can be different for everyone but this has been the overall energy.

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[ Image 2 ]

Your person might be quite adventurous and lively and even possess childlike qualities or lighthearted energy in general. Your person feels excited and there are budding passionate feelings for sure. But at the same time they may feel the like there's not much depth in the relationship or for some of you there own feelings may be quite surface level and not so rooted as of now. Feels like there is something that is getting in the way of you two developing a deeper connection. They might feel like something's missing or there could be a lack of clarity. They may be feeling a bit suspicious maybe because there's sparing feelings or they are feeling deceived by their own feelings. They could feel like they can't be fully themselves around you or they might feel like putting a mask or hiding certain aspects about themselves. For some of you, this person could even be a bit deceitful or unfaithful or they might already be in a relationship with someone else and the passionate feelings they have been developing for you could be from a place of dishonesty as well (This message is only for a very few of you.) And for others this could mean that they are a bit hesitant to validate their feelings because they are scared to make a choice. They could have one foot in one foot out thinking that either will bring about negative consequences. Some might not want to commit because they might be unwilling to make a sacrifice, so they could appear a bit sneaky. There could be a choice to make between love or friendship. This could be a workplace situation for some of you. You might have complimentary energies as well. They could feel like you are deceiving them, but they could also be feeling like they are deceiving you despite the complimentary energy you both share. Your person might be really attracted to you, might also be inspired by you in some way. They may be more receptive to you than usual and really impressed by you. You could be working together as a team or workplace vibes again. But they might be very passive and they might not want to do anything about these feelings is what is coming through. They might feel like these feelings aren't going anywhere but at the same time they feel like they cannot be honest. Their hands are tied in some way. They might not want to initiate anything with you fearing something will go wrong and they kinda fear taking responsibility. This could be a dynamic with a boss or an employee even a coworker for some of you. They might not be very communicative and conceal and sweep their feelings under the rug. They might feel like the ball is in your court. I think it's important to be more cautious if there's any deception going on here and to safeguard your own feelings. Also good communication will help clear any doubts regarding this relationship. All in all they feel lighthearted passion for you and might feel like it's not too deep or something's missing. They might feel like they cannot be themselves around you. They might see you as a good companion and really attracted to you and inspired by you but they feel like they cannot do much about it even if they wanted to. That's all for for group twos.

Random messages : Passion, I wish you well, Stop wanting/Act like it/Act for it, Warm embrace, Holiday, Eat up, Under the moonlight, Gentleman, Starlight/Aquarius/Fame, Diabolical, Aphrodite, Princess

Songs : Afterglow - Ed Sheeran

Hope this resonates. This is a collective reading so there were multiple circumstances comimg through. Can be different for everyone but this has been the overall energy.

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[ Image 3 ]

Oh what can I say group three, this energy is awesome. Your person is so much in their feels having butterflies in their stomach whenever they see you. They have very very deep emotional feelings for you and you might already be aware of that. For some of you, this person might have a fat crush on you, and you might not know yet since they haven't told you yet. Your person could be very energetic, confident and pretty straightforward and even lovey dovey. I'm seeing they are definitely impatient and restless and when they want something, they want it right away. A bit ruthless if you will. I think they know you are the one for them and they are super driven to make things work between the two of you. They might be vocal about their feelings  for you and might be really passionate and emotional when speaking them through words. They really have a soft spot in their heart for you. A true romantic at heart. They feel loved and supported by you, and they feel nurturing and compassionate towards you. They care deeply and want the best for you. Literally want to see you happy. You might be a healing presence in their life. If you are not in a relationship with this person yet, they are pretty determined to win you over. Your person might be really attractive and very charming for sure. I think your person is too much in their feelings to the point they feel trapped lol. They feel like they are blinded by their love for you. Or you might make them feel weak on their knees. They feel kinda vulnerable ngl. I think that's because of the intensity of their feelings they think you have wrapped them around your finger. For some of you, this person might fear getting hurt by you, or think that it's inevitable since they've fallen head over heels for you. They can't stop thinking about you and they feel too much intensely. Also they might be in love with the idea of love and might have unrealistic expectations from love due to which they feel quite suffocated. May even be trapped in a fantasy in love for some of you. They feel like you are their wish come true and there is an abundance of cheerful and sweet romantic feelings. You definitely bring so much joy into their lives my dear group threes. I think they have this desire to spend more time together with you. Your person might even show you off to their loved ones. They are grateful for the connection between you and they are really happy to do life with you. Like it's their wish come true to be working with you on creating something. Maybe creating a stable foundation for an even stronger relationship with you. For some of you, y'all might be collaborating with them on something. You boost their self confidence and they really love that about you. They are excited to see where your relationship can go. They think you two are better together as a couple than separate individuals. You might bring the best in each other. They trust you and there's mutual respect between the two of you. There are so much tender feelings they have for you, they literally would do anything to make you happy, to see you smile. Honestly this pile makes my heart so happy.

Random messages : Carry your heart with you, Aphrodite, Rubies and Pearls, Mystic, What do you want?, Too much to ask, It's all happening right now, Forest retreat, Lovely voice, Deep dive, Boss baby, I want more

Songs : Dandelions - Ruth B.

Those eyes - New West

Hope this resonates. This is a collective reading so take what resonates.

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[ Image 4 ]

Your person definitely has strong feelings and feel a lot of passion for you. There might have been some issues in your relationship, minor ones, or a lack of clarity. Your person wants to have some clear communication with you so you both can have a better relationship. They might not reach out immediately but they're definitely contemplating talking things out with you. Some of you might even be recovering from a breakup from this person or you might currently be in separation with them. They do want to reach out to have more clarity but I see them being rather rash or reckless so you might have to be mindful of how you communicate and arrive at a resolution. For those of you who are not yet in a relationship with them yet, I think they are feeling like their hands are tied due to some issues keeping you guys apart from each other or there's a choice to make about friendship or love and they fear that either choice will bring about negative consequences. They feel quite helpless if that's the case but also definitely very dedicated to communicate and overcome them some time in the future so you both could arrive at a better place. Their feelings for you are changing in a more positive direction right now, however they are mutable and changing. Although they have positive feelings, they are hot and cold and they might think differently time to time. They have sweet, deep and nurturing feelings for you. They care a lot about you and there's really good emotional understanding between the two of you. They want to see you happy and they are so supportive of you. For some of you this person might want some sort of commitment with you, be it marriage or wanting to take your relationship to the next level. Or they want to celebrate you, all of you. They feel like your relationship is fated and it was just meant to be. For those of you recovering from a breakup or in separation with this person, they might have the intention to reconcile but it's volatile and they haven't fully made up their mind about it right now but overall things have started to change. They might even be observing you. For some this could be a karmic connection and it could be a good one or a rather challenging one. They feel that you complete them in a deep way. You make them feel secure. They definitely see you fitting into their long-term vision of the future. These feelings are a bit changeable but right now they're really positive and any outcomes can be promising. For existing relationships there could've been a situation where they felt vulnerable and had to make a choice that required a sacrifice. Or they wanted a deeper level of commitment and they were disappointed it didn't happen the way they expected. This person have been resisting their feelings or change because they made them feel quite vulnerable. There's this feeling of them feeling trapped due to some reason. This can be interpreted in many ways. There's many situations here so take what resonates. I'm seeing it's different for everyone here. I think they have deep emotional and romantic feelings for you even sexual. Recently they might have had some clarity or they might soon have better understanding about whatever this situation is. They definitely want to initiate conversation and just come clean about everything. Probably they want to just pour all their emotions and feelings on to the table for you to see. I see them wanting you to see and validate their feelings for them. I think for some of you this person might be obsessive or pretty possessive about you. They are pretty impulsive about their feelings for you. They romanticize you for sure and really have tender and potent feelings  for you. They probably want to confess their feelings for you.

That's all I'm seeing for my dear group fours. I hope you try to gain clarity if you and your person have been having issues. There's a lot of feelings here so I think you'll emerge victorious despite obstacles. Arriving at a common ground and talking things through will definitely help. Meanwhile try to be mindful about what you really want and get to know yourself better so you can love yourself and others better. Listen to your heart and strive for a healthy balance between emotions and logic. And be positive. All will be well.

Random messages : Clarity, Nourishment/Moon/Gentle/Mother, Have fun, What you think you want, Heaven and Earth, Babies, Mystic, Some other time, Try again, Honeymoon, I want more, Caramel, All mine, Milk and Honey, Repeating cycles, Wedding bells

Songs : I wanna be yours - Arctic Monkeys

[mysticheathenn]

Mystery Pick-A-Card Pt. ll

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about whatever the cards have to say. I shuffle the cards and whatever message comes out is your reading. I couldn't decide on what reading should be next as so many messages wanted to come through, so I decided on this way. This may be about love, academics, friendship/family, money, or careers. Whatever the cards have to say, will be said.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

TW Ahead Read With Caution

Pile l:

What is your Mystery Reading? Tarot: Page of Swords, 5 of Swords, The Chariot (Clarified by The Reversed Empress), Justice (Clarified by 9 of Cups), Ace of Wands

"There's no kindness in your eyes The way you look at me, it's just not right I can tell what's going on this time There's a stranger in my life You're not the person that I once knew Are you scared to let them know it's you? If they could only see you like I do Then they would see a stranger too" - Hilary Duff, Strangers

TW: Body image, Self Esteem, Anorexia, Dysmorphia, Etc

Even though Strangers by Hilary Duff is a love song about a toxic relationship this is about you having a toxic relationship, but with yourself. You are so skilled at faking smiles and pretending everything is okay while you suffer on the inside with your constant negative talk to yourself. You could say things like how ugly, fat, and disgusting, you are to yourself and spew all of these lies that aren't true. Some of you could possibly be dealing with body dysmorphia where you see yourself as one way one moment and another moment you do a complete 180 or 360 depending on what it is about your body you are speaking negatively/positively about. Some of these feelings, thoughts, and emotions may have come from your childhood/adolescence where your family constantly pointed out changes in your weight causing you to have these feelings or body disorders. This makes me sad because I don't need to know what you look like to know that you are handsome/beautiful/spectacular/ and everything that's as sensational and bright as the sun. This reading has left me in a pickle as I have never pulled cards dealing with this subject before and don't want to overstep or cause any damage, as I'm not a psychologist/therapist so I can't give you the guidance you need in order to see yourself for all its glory, but your guides want you to know it's time to start seeing the light. They can't help you if you don't try to help yourself first by seeking help for the thoughts that plague your mind on a daily basis. You may like to listen to sad songs when you're sad so you can remain in your sadness because being happy with who you are is too unbearable to think about. It's time to begin your journey of healing and surrounding yourself with people who see you for who you really are and not the versions in your head that you see or the versions your family likes to place on you because of their own f*cked-up views and opinions about themselves. Try seeking out help from a therapist/psychologist, or a trusted friend. Also, remember that you are more than just your looks, you have a personality that I am sure shines bright as gold and a beautiful future ahead where you are thriving and seeing yourself as truly divine.

Pile ll:

What is your Mystery Reading? Tarot: The Devil, 7 of Cups, 8 of Cups (Clarified by The Star), 9 of Pentacles (reversed)

"There's things I wanna say to you But I'll just let you live Like if you hold me without hurting me You'll be the first who ever did There's things I wanna talk about But better not to give But if you hold me without hurting me You'll be the first who ever did" - Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey

TW: Self-Sabotage, Vices, etc

This reading can go so many different ways but the overall message is that there is something in your life that isn't good for you that you can't see to walk away because you either feel you have no better options or you don't want any other options. For some of you, this could be a relationship you refuse to let go of because of fear and for others of you, this could be vices like drugs, alcohol, or even self-sabotaging things for yourself because you don't see how bright your future or how brilliant you are. Some of you are so far down the rabbit hole that you don't see a way out, you have let this thing or person consume your every being to the point there is no moon or sun in your work only complete darkness. It's as if you have fully accepted that this is your life now and the thing about that pile ll is this doesn't have to be your life. You have The Star card in your reading showing you that you are more than capable of being someone other than the version you are now or even finding better elsewhere if this is about a relationship. Freedom is just a few steps away you just have to be the one to see the light at the end of the tunnel instead of always pulling the blackout curtains over any and all kinds of light that touched your domain. You have options...you just rather not take them because of having to deal with the pain that comes along with it. Again this could be vices that you pick up every time life gets even the smallest of inconvenient for you and others it's a relationship that you wholeheartedly either believe is as good as it gets for you because of your low self-esteem or because you don't want to leave this person in their darkest hour not realizing that they too are slowing taking you under. Your light is so bright pile ll and it's been trying to show you in your darkness but you refuse to answer or grab its hand. It's time to walk away from the things that keep you mentally, emotionally, and even physically stuck and walk away. Do some healing or find other solutions that can help with your vices. Similar to how chain smokers replace cigarettes with snacks...replace what this toxic energy is with something better.

Pile lll:

What is your Mystery Reading? Tarot: The Lovers, The Hierophant, The Devil, The Moon, 3 of Swords

Two Messages - TW: Toxic Relationships (Romantic & of the Self)

So many Major Arcana cards pile lll. You may have been drawn to Pile ll, this reading somewhat mirrors that pile also. The only difference is that you acknowledge your unhappiness while Pile ll...well...yeah. Anyway, pile lll I sense your unhappiness within your relationship and possibly within yourself too. With the lovers and devil card in this reading, I sense that this is mainly a relationship reading but if not take what resonates and apply it to you being single. Single messages are later in this reading. Overall you are unhappy with how your relationship is, it's as if you romanticized what it would be like with this person and decided to go with the flow of everything even when things didn't feel right and now you are unhappy because you don't want to "disturb the peace" in your relationship but you also are feeling yourself chip away each and every day. Maybe this is the kind of relationship you thought you wanted because society or your family have always had this kind of relationship and you thought this is the way it has to be not realizing that you have a say in how your relationship should be, feel, and look like. You don't have to sit in silence and possibly cry yourself to sleep every night wishing things were different when you can just leave if the relationship is not serving you the way your soul wants to be fed. For just a few of you this may be an abusive or toxic relationship and this relationship while it is abusive you have only known chaotic and toxic love so anything else just doesn't feel right because you are so used to chaos and drama not realizing that's not love. For those of you who are single, this feels more so of you not feeling one with yourself. You're catering to everyone else but what your soul has been telling you all along. There is so much hidden potential in you that you don't realize because you are listening and entertaining others. Going back to those who are in abusive or toxic relationships if you can and only if you can seek help. There are so many people out there willing and wanting to help you get out. Last for those who are single and try and tap into the parts of you that are screaming for you to release and see where it takes you. I am going to let you know that you tapping into yourself will cause friction to those who are only around you for their own benefit...are you ready to lose those around you when you stop entertaining others' opinion of you.

Pile lV:

What is your Mystery Reading? Tarot: Ace of Pentacles, 7 of cups, Strength, Ace of Cups, 8 of Pentacles, Hanged Man

This is the only good happy-toned reading out of the remainder of the other piles and I can't tell you how happy I am for you. Whatever it is that you have been working on specifically dealing with career as I see a lot of money and emotions cards. Needless to say, that emotional fulfillment is coming in for you pile lV. Please don't doubt that what you are doing is a waste of time because it's not. If you aren't working on something you may have had several opportunities or ideas come to you that you have questioned whether they will lead you to financial stability and abundance and with the 8 and Ace of Pentacles card it is a yes. Yes, one of your ideas will bring you the money you have been trying to manifest or pray for. Some of you that may have multiple ideas or opportunities may not be sure as to what you should take that will lead you down this road and it's the one that gives you the most emotional fulfillment. If you still aren't sure close your eyes and picture yourself doing each opportunity and if it doesn't give you a feeling of peace washing over you...onto the next idea or opportunity. This path will also force you to have strength pile lV as this is not a quick road to riches and stability. You will be tested and have setbacks as well as being stuck in limbo but overall this will be worth it and is exactly what you have been wanting in your life...it's just going to take a bit of work to get there but financial abundance is on it's way to you, just have patience, dedication, and focus on the prize.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[ellielatinagf]

Lacrosse!Ellie Part 2

Summary: after meeting that mysterious girl who had your heart and stomach in knots, you find a way to get closer to her

Warnings: mild profanity,

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

*follow*

You finally hit the follow button. After what felt like hours of just stalking the girls account. You thought about meeting her, but after your encounter with her the other day it felt pretty awkward and you didn’t want to seem to eager.

*Elli3mfwilliams started following you*

*new message*

Ellie: heyy

She was fast with it. You literally just started following her and she texted you??

You: hii

*seen just now* thank god she must be a fast replier

Ellie: how’d you find me?

You: Dina gave me your account. Is that okay?

Ellie: of course babes

Oh god that nickname. Does she know what she’s doing? Does she know the way your stomach churns at the name and even wanting to turn itself inside out? Wait is she even gay?? What kind of question is that, one look and you can already tell she practically worships women. You tried to think of a way to get closer to her

You: are you any good at math?

Ellie: math genius

You: do you think you can help me? Like study and stuff

Ellie: sure I got you. Wanna meet up this weekend at the coffe shop by school?

Ugh, this weekend? It’s only Tuesday, this weekend is forever away…

You: sure!

Ellie: alright then, see ya later babe

You turned off your phone and placed it on your night stand. You laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. You basically made a date with Ellie. Sure you two barely knew each other but it was better than nothing. You knew you liked women. You hadn’t exactly dated a woman but anytime you saw a pretty woman you just knew you liked them.

You woke up the next morning to your alarm clock throwing a tantrum on the drawer. You decided to get a little dolled up today. Maybe you just felt in the mood. Your humming to the song playing on your speaker was interrupted by the notification in your phone

*Dinasaur calling*

“Oh shit” You Said Running out of your room grabbing your backpack and rushing outside. You climbed in Dina’s car with half your makeup applied.

“Girl we’re gonna be late!” Dina complained “wait a minute why are YOU looking all pretty?” Dina asked smiling. You giggled and pulled down the passenger mirror to apply your lip gloss.

“I dunno just wanted to I guess” you smirked. Dina didn’t buy, but she didn’t push you. You both sang songs as she drove to school.

“Sooooo have you made any plans this weekend?” Dina asked as you both walked to your classes. Does she know? Did Ellie say something? I mean, it was Dina’s fault you got to talk to Ellie..but still.

“Uh yeah” you said trying to be general and not give hints.

“Ugh! Oh my god Y/n tell me what happened with you and Ellie!” Dina giggled grabbing your arm. You smiled rolling your eyes. Of course she knew. She’s your best friend. What DOESNT she know?

“We’ll nothing really…” You said. You wished something happened “we’re just meeting up for a coffee study this weekend”

“Lame!” Dina exclaimed “your telling me she didn’t fall to your knees and beg you for your hand in marriage?”. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nope. Shocking right?” You replied. The two of you laughed a storm. Dina squeezed your hand goodbye and you both parted ways to go to class. Pre-calc . You hate pre-calc. You basically dragged your feet to class. Your foot missed the next step and before you knew it you tripped and hit your nose on the floor.

If this were anyone else you probably would be laughed. It’s a guilty pleasure. But you groaned and just before you pull yourself up, you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders.

“You okay babe?” You knew that raspy voice. You looked up to meet a pair of green orbs staring at you. A pair of pink lips smiling at you. The embarrassment hit you like a punching bag your cheeks felt warm and turned pink.

“That was an interesting fall ” Ellie chuckled.

“Ha..sorry.. I mean thank you.” You smiled getting back on your feet “I’m fine, thank you”

“No problem babe. We still on for coffee this weekend?” She asked

“Yeah of course” you replied

“Great, I’m looking forward to it. Bye babe. Oh by the way, you look good today”

“Thanks…bye ellie…” you Said waving bye and watching the gorgeous god sent woman leave. Her backpack had space pins on it. Cute. Wait, she said she was looking forward to it. To you. She wants to see you. Oh god. You hated her. Why is so so damn perfect? She’s making you go crazy. That stupid gorgeous nerd.

So excited for the next one omg. Don’t worry there’s gonna be a LOOOOOOTTTTT of fluff trust me loves. Love you thanks for reading! Free Palestine 🇵🇸

@bready101

Dm or reply if you wanna be tagged!