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kathelovecatsandfeminism · 3 days ago

Text

He's Rick

warnings: rick grimes x reader; angst with happy end; smut; a little of spanking; pet names; rick needs a hug; mention of lori, carl and judith; p in v; unprotected sex; confession of feelings; fluff; heavy eye contact; no use of y/n; The spelling has not been fully revised and it is always good to remember that English is not my first language, so be nice. I think that's all.

Night had already fallen over Alexandria, but unlike sleeping on the road, here the darkness was not dangerous, the dim lights of the streetlamps dispelled the darkness, as did the lights from the windows of some houses. It didn't seem real, a place to really live, a house to take care of and a comfortable bed to sleep in, clean clothes, vegetable gardens for the kitchens and generators bringing the heat of the lights, it didn't seem real after so much death, so much human decay that had passed before your eyes.

It also seemed very ungrateful of you to be feeling so miserable while others celebrated the blessing of being able to “celebrate” the life that walls provide. You still didn’t know how you felt about it, “normality” was almost a stranger to you now. Your mother would have said “ungrateful girl.” You didn’t like to think about her.

But the sadness was there, settled in your chest, painful and suffocating after so much crying, eyes red as the tip of your nose. That was why you were standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pretty dress — a gift from Deanna — you wouldn’t allow yourself to be seen like this. It’s funny how the most subtle thing can make us crumble. So why?

…..ah grimes, that was it wasn’t it?

It all started with an innocent conversation, because the devil is in the small details.

You were invited by Deanna for a short horse ride around the city, a bureaucratic conversation, you always knew how to sniff them out at your old job, at home. The group was causing problems, no….. no, Rick was causing problems and you were Rick's right-hand man, it was rational to turn to you, wasn't it?

But again no. For Deanna it was natural to turn to his woman, because is this what you were, obviously….. weren't you?

She must have noticed the moment when confusion turned to realization and ended in disappointment on your face, because she - very delicately - apologized for the assumption, it took a lot of strength in you to utter a simple "don't worry". The ride home was silent.

An observation took over your thoughts, between constant escapes, arguing and surviving today to fight tomorrow, you never had the privilege of being able to think about the meaning of your relationship with Rick, worse, you never wanted to actually face what you knew you felt for him. There are commanding words of priorities in your mind that developed to find a home here, somewhere along that path the two of you became inseparable, to the point that seeing one could have found the other too.

You knew him from before the zombies, your father was an officer of his officer, you saw each other a few times and talked even less, he seemed like a good man. But now looking back he was always there, he covered your back - even too much - and you did the same for him. He helped him with the children, maybe a little more than the others. It had been a while since Carl had asked you to comb his hair, even with your fingers, it had become a habit and you knew who he was pretending you were.

Judith was still a little thing who liked to sleep with you

Rick helped you with your younger sister - teenagers are worse in the apocalypse - she couldn't help but believe in the loss of her parents and sometimes she was filled with rage because you hadn't come back to look for them - but there was nothing to come back to - she screamed and pushed you like a child, in those moments it was Rick who calmed her down, you never knew how he did it.

Not that everything was perfect, you fought too and badly, two stubborn people when they thought they were sure of something. It was Rick who made peace most of the time.

No matter what happened, one would find the other like a magnet, he had promised you that when your world fell apart and only he was there to lift it up. It was in his arms that you slept on very cold nights. Having him seemed right, there was something there, something that until then you pretended not to see.

But did you really have him?

Admitting to Deanna that you weren't hurt, it burned your skin and the wounded pride created a balloon in your throat that made it hard to breathe, you cried.

For some reason you felt so small and ashamed, you didn't have the courage to question him, what if he thought there was nothing to question? just a good friend and nothing more? Your head hurt, because everything was so confusing, you weren't ready to see him again.

It had been a week since the conversation with Deanna, a week since you gave a flimsy excuse to Rick and Carl, that Michonne needed you close. A week since you ran away like a coward. It was in her kitchen where you cried.

but he's Rick, he knows you

So it was no surprise when he appeared at your door - Michonne's door actually - breathless and blushing as if it had been hard for him to come here.

"hi"

"hi" came out almost silent

You both spent a few seconds standing in the doorway, his eyes were so warm - even if more tired than usual in contradiction to the new reality that out of habit or a second nature of yours, you moved away so he could enter, there was not a single day that you denied him from entering your life or your heart.

You walked towards the kitchen and in silence he followed you as he always did.

Rick in the dim yellow light of the kitchen looked more handsome than ever. He had gotten rid of all that beard, his hair was still wet and combed back, with curls at the ends indicating that he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore a white shirt that was tight on his biceps, a little short above the waistband of his pants, a worn blue wash, he always looked good in blue - he looked younger - and he wore those damn boots on his feet.

He was still as handsome as the day he came back into your life, a certain warmth settled in your chest.

However, as much as he looked good, he also looked defeated, shoulders slumped and red, tired eyes with a big crease above them.

Like when you finally recognize that there is something in the corner of your eye and now it is no longer possible to ignore that space, after having looked at what you felt for him, you could not ignore the desire to be held by him, to kiss the newly discovered skin, to hug him tightly.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen, you turned around, putting some distance between you two. You expected him to break the silence and reject you right away, maybe that would be the “easy” solution, after that you could move on and pretend nothing had happened, but when he held your gaze with such tenderness and sadness at the same time, you quickly looked away, unable to accept anything from him, that was going to hurt. He took a step closer with his arm half raised as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated. The truth is that he knew why you were running away from him like a wounded deer. He had insisted enough with Deanna to get a half answer and then it was easy to put everything in place.

There was this big elephant in the room of unsaid things, where to start? Rick wasn't proud that he had placed you in a limbo of uncertainty, the dynamic between you two was so domestic in contrast to the reality you lived in, like when he fell asleep in your arms while you brushed your hair with your fingers after a really, really bad day and he didn't feel worthy of you or how despite his distraught state, his eyes always softened when they met your face.

He wished he had told you how he had come to keep Lori's wedding ring - a bitter reminder of everything he had been through - in his pocket because your expression would turn sad whenever you played with it on his fingers.

Oh, and Lori...

He couldn't protect her, no matter how hard he tried, it wasn't enough in the end, and then came the nightmares in which he couldn't save you, he always became more distant after them. Irrationally loving you seemed to cast a dark shadow over you, putting you in danger, but moving on without you? It seemed to condemn him to wander with a big hole in his chest.

He spent so much time holding back, as if his mere touch would make you break.

Rick was a cowardly and stupid man, incapable of giving himself to you, fearing the day he would lose you.

A stupid and cowardly man... a coward... a coward, he was already losing you and worse, because you thought he didn't want you.

"I'm a coward" came out without realizing it, he had assumed that serious tone he used when he took control of a situation, the southern accent was stronger. He caught your attention, but your eyes continued to focus on a point behind him, always avoiding his eyes.

"What?"

Rick took another step closer.

"I'm a cowardly man who doesn't deserve you" confusion adorned your face in the dim light of the weak yellow light.

“Too cowardly to admit it…..damn it!” He ran his fingers through his hair, anxious.

Rick looked disconcerted, lost, it wasn’t normal to see him like this only when his shoulders were very tired and he inevitably ran to find some comfort in you.

Seconds of silence passed, as if he carefully considered his next words.

Then the moment passed and his shoulders straightened.

He slowly approached you while you backed away like a skittish animal, he stared so intently into your eyes that you felt completely exposed. The slow chase ended when your back hit the kitchen counter, cornered, the proximity, how intimate everything seemed, your mind spun in circles chanting his name. That was one of the problems, he took you out of your orbit.

both of his calloused hands went up your neck to cradle your face, so delicate, now the only distance between your bodies were the atoms of air. his touch almost burned your skin, even if you were reluctant you melted with the heat that emanated from his body.

it was no longer possible to escape from those blue eyes, noses brushing, mouths open and tense breathing “It’s a broken world and you’re the only thing that puts it back together” he continued to rest his forehead on yours “til my last breath, I am yours because I love you”

Shock took over your face, never in your most idyllic dreams would you imagine this scenario, so vulnerable because he loves you. Love is too strong a word to play with. Rick wasn’t the type to play with his word.

“you love me?” you asked in a whisper, afraid of the answer, then he started running his fingertips through your hair, over your face, saying a silent “beautiful” more to himself than to you “I think that’s what it’s called, isn’t it?” he looked at you curiously “I always come back to you, even if it’s crawling, but I come back. It’s your face that my eyes search for in a crowd, it’s your opinion that I seek before any decision, it’s your smile that makes all this mess worth it, it’s another reason to survive and when I see you with the children….. God, it’s like coming back to a home I didn’t know I had, it seems almost immoral to have this at the end of the world… I’m afraid the universe is waiting for me to take what I want just to take it from me, believe me, I couldn’t go on without you. So yes, I love you.”

You knew many things about Rick, how he likes his drink, about his grandfather in the war, about how to read his gestures, but mainly that he was a man with a good and kind heart and above all honest.

The light made your eyes bigger and brighter with the tears that were now flowing, which were becoming a sob and then a loud cry, but it was okay, he is Rick, he knows you, so smiling and sighing a “come here” he held you tight in his arms, wetting his shirt. Slowly he adorned the top of your head with kisses, reducing the crying, the tears gave way to a big smile. You pulled away so you could look into his eyes, which to your surprise were also teary, but he smiled broadly, both of you sharing a look.

Silence fell in the room, but it was light and calm, of accomplices who had shared something very sacred. Rick took one of her hands and lifted it into the air as if preparing for a waltz. “In a perfect world, I would have told you this after a fancy dinner and taken you dancing.” You couldn’t help but smile, he was always an old-fashioned guy.

“I like to dance.”

“I know.” Using the hand that was in the air, he spun you around in his arms.

“You always know.” It was like being a little girl again, cheeks burning and all.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, humming in agreement.

“You should.”

In the blink of an eye, he had you in a very tender and deep kiss, as if he regretted all the kisses he had wanted to give you but couldn't. It didn't take long for him to become fiercer, hungrier, his hands were clenched in the back of his shirt, as if he was afraid the moment would evaporate like a dream.

Testing the waters, one of Rick's hands went down to your hip, gently, but giving it a light squeeze. You sighed, there was a hunger in you that was no longer possible to contain

"Take me to the room, please" you asked slyly

"Yes, ma'am" and as if you weighed nothing he picked you up and you wrapped yourself around his hips, sharing small kisses as you went up the stairs. Between kisses, you found yourselves unable to hold back your giggles, it was good.

Entering your room, he carefully laid you down on the bed and for a brief minute just kept looking at you as if he needed to convince himself that this was real, that something good and beautiful could be born in such a vile world. The moment was only broken when you extended your hand inviting him. Gratefully, he took off his white shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room and lay down between your legs.

It was strange to be like this with him, but at the same time so familiar, as if it were right. You pulled him in for another hungry kiss with tongues, teeth and all, running your fingertips over the muscles of his back, pressing him against you. He moaned into your mouth, needing his hips against yours, eliciting a moan from you.

He went down to your neck, distributing wet kisses to soothe the marks he was leaving - something intimate in him liked the idea of claiming you publicly - going down to your collarbone and only stopping over the bust of your dress, searching your eyes in a silent request. He laughed at the intensity with which you nodded.

He made sure to lower the straps very slowly, but it didn't take long for him to grab one of her breasts as soon as they were exposed. While he licked and sucked one, he played with the tip of the other with his fingers. When he was satisfied, he reversed the order.

By now you were a mess of moans and whimpers, rubbing against him in search of any friction.

That day Rick discovered many things about you: first, you were loud - a pleasant surprise -; and second, you were sensitive as hell and he was going to take advantage of that.

He continued to move down your body, trailing chaste kisses along your clothed belly, nibbling on your dress, lingering on your lower abdomen while one of his hands lovingly brushed the skin on the inside of one of your thighs, almost reaching where you wanted, but pulling back just in time. He came back to my eye level "do you want to be good for me?" Oh, he wished he had a camera to capture your reaction, all blushing and goosebumps. Third thing - although he already suspected that.

No answer. Then the hand on your inner thigh went straight to your clothed center, taking you by surprise “baby, talk to me”

Your brain was already so far away and started to nod and only then remembered to answer “I want” clearly satisfied with the answer he got up from the bed, you almost protested against the loss of contact but when he pulled your legs to the edge of the bed and knelt between them, you already knew it was over

“this comes off” you lifted your hips so he could take off your panties “and this stays here for now” he bunched your dress at your waist.

You already knew you were very wet but when the cold air of the room hit you and Rick ate you with his eyes even more blush painted your skin.

He brought his lips closer to your pussy, blowing only to see you squirm, smiling satisfied with the result. He looked at you with such hunger, you couldn't hold his gaze, but more knowing than you were his hand leaving a slap on your right thigh. When you turned your eyes to him it was clear on his face, pupils dilated in a stern look, jaw clenched, don't do that again.

So you did... or tried to because when he gave a first slow and long lick between your folds by instinct your head fell back before you could come to, another slap, on your left thigh now.

Damn bastard Rick Grimes

Leaning on your elbows, you looked at him again, trembling with desire as he sucked your clit with just the right amount of pressure. You were already high at this point because Rick would eat you out like a starving man. After a few more licks, two thick fingers poked your entrance, smearing themselves with your arousal and, to torture you, as a final blow, he inserted them while he curved them, hitting that exact spot - it was so different from yours, better, bigger and they were Rick's - and he went back to sucking on your spot. Thank God no one was home because you looked pathetic in his hands.

All you could think about was the pressure and the heat and the unfolding and growing in your belly, it was too much. Your back arched, your toes curled as you were a mess, reciting his name like a prayer

Rick…….Rick…….Rick

When his big hand reached for yours to hold while he pressed it against your hip to keep you in place while he intensified his actions until your peak reached you and you rode him fucking Rick's face

you came hard and loud, singing his name

he made sure to take every drop of you until overstimulation. When he got up from the floor, you could barely support yourself on your elbows to look at him. He licked his lips like after a good meal. Sucking his fingers and letting out a "sweet" he rested one of his knees on the bed and pulled you by the torso like a rag doll - very soft now - making you sit up "arms up" and he removed the dress over your head. He seemed so careful "good girl" he says and you couldn't help but tremble at those words, you wanted him inside you SO MUCH, so your hands flew to undo his belt and pants

"anxious?" oh that cheeky smile would kill you

“you have no idea”

“Ah….I can imagine, hon” he finished by giving a sweet kiss on the top of your head

When he stepped out of his pants and you were face to face with his red, veiny cock, already weeping with pre-cum. You wanted to feel the weight of it on your tongue - another time perhaps because you could swear you would start crying if you didn't feel him inside you soon.

You lay on your back in the center of the bed, spreading your legs wide for him. If you looked like the hot mess you felt, you would be lost.

He asked for your hand and you gave in. When he placed himself between your legs it was as if he belonged nowhere else than here, with you. He spent a minute hovering over your body, his eyes examining you, recording every detail, you were a very beautiful mess. He kissed you again, less hurriedly but equally hungry, his tongue playing knowingly with yours, biting your lips, pulling you towards him.

Anxiously, you tried to rub your hips against his - of course he noticed - he took your hand in his and placed it on his cock - you couldn't resist and applied some pressure, he shuddered.

With his hand on yours controlling the movement he brought the tip to your folds and played with them, making you squirm with anticipation, lubricating you well, threatening to enter. It was only after you called his name tearfully that he thought you had suffered enough, but Rick couldn't contain himself, he wanted to engrave this moment very well in his memory. You were all open on the bed for him, whimpering his name, you became very gentle in his hands, it was fascinating.

You had your heads together, staring at the spot that connected you when he finally entered you, both of you letting out a long sigh. He slowly went all the way in, until you felt his balls pressed against your ass - and god you could feel every bit of him, that stretch, filling you up just right - only for him to pull back almost all the way out and slam back into you harder. “look at me, baby” he called your attention.

Rick was an eye contact guy and you did your best to maintain it as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He built a steady, deep, passionate rhythm, hitting that spot that made your brain short out every time, your back arched, you wrapped your legs around his waist, skin to skin, hot, sweaty, your hips racing to meet his. You smiled victoriously when he buried his nose in your neck and started moaning in your ear, your knot was tightening.

The temperature of the room had increased, a mixture of sounds of skin slapping, your meaningless pleas in the cloud of pleasure, Rick who will now return to mark your neck to suppress his own moans.

“Rick….please….please” you didn’t know what you were asking for but he is Rick, he knows you. his face came out of hiding in your hair, he gave you a quick kiss on the lips and pushed your knees against your chest, the new angle would be the death of you and by Rick’s state his too whose thrusts began to become erratic. You were very close to the edge, on the border between pleasure and consciousness and when Rick began to make circles on your clit you took his mouth in yours suppressing a loud moan as you came, your vision going white. Rick came soon after by the way you were squeezing him as you came down from your high. He may have drawn blood from your lips when he bit your lip as he released long, thick loads of semen inside you draining you of every last drop. He remained inside you even after he softened, the state of euphoria preventing you from thinking about the consequences.

You both collapsed together, it was a comforting feeling to feel his weight against you, you felt safe.

When his attention turned to study your face again, he looked calm, relaxed, happy - something very hard to see - he had such loving eyes and they looked at you, he took his time like that, serious, focused. You would never know, but in that intimate moment he made a promise, he would not allow anything or anyone to hurt you, he would not allow it. He knew you could handle it, you had already proven yourself many times, but you were still the woman he loved and nothing else mattered

it was you who took him out of the sea of their thoughts

“hey, rick”

“hm”

“I love you too”

“yeah?”

“yeah”

He smiled broadly, inverting the position of the two and brought the back of his hand to sprinkle kisses there, that tender gesture made you smile. Rick was yours.

.....................................................

Today had been a long day of work in the city, the kind where you pretend you didn't notice you were taking a little longer to shower. It was the first place you went after getting home, the murder house - your house - that fact still made you smile at nothing. Before going into the bathroom to shower, you passed Carl and a small blond head heading out, in a hurry but not enough.

"Should I worry, Carl?" Dusk was slowly falling outside.

"No, no, Carol's new recipe."

"Where's your dad?"

"Daryl," the boy shouted over his shoulder. You answered with a low "Okay," too tired to think about it now. Right after the door slammed.

Okay, you may have taken too long because when you came out of the bathroom there was a dress on the bed, the one Rick liked to take off. Half curious, half suspicious, you put it on and went downstairs to get something to eat. Most of the lights downstairs were off except for the ones in the kitchen. You walked there, only to find a very well-dressed Rick - a button-down shirt with the tops open and black jeans - dinner on the table and a humble flower in his hand. “Rick” you called affectionately, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face you were walking towards him but he stopped you in the middle of the way with a signal to stop, you don’t know exactly where he was hiding, but suddenly a melody started playing through the room, he came back shyly, took your hands in his, still holding the flower and you started dancing alone in the kitchen and you don’t remember feeling so loved because he's rick, he knows you

#the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes fluff #twd fanfiction #twd fic #andrew lincoln #andrew lincoln fanfic #rick grimes smut #rick grimes angst

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moonlitstoriess · 2 days ago

Text

Binding Lies- Eris Vanserra x fem! reader (mini-series) Part 6

Summary: When Y/N, Azriel's secret half-sister who lives far away, and Eris Vanserra form a strategic contractual marriage to further their own agendas, what begins as a carefully crafted arrangement soon becomes more complicated. As they pretend to be a perfect couple, the lines between duty and desire blur, and neither is prepared for the consequences.

See masterlist

Previous part

Warnings: some sexual inuendos, nothing explicit or smutty, some angst

The scent of burnt cedar and crisp autumn leaves clung to the palace air, woven between the heavy tapestries and polished stone floors. Each step Y/N took echoed softly against the stone, the weight of the gown she wore brushing against her legs as she followed Lady Autumn through the gilded halls. The torches flickered along the walls, casting long shadows that stretched like skeletal fingers, as if the palace itself was watching.

Samira walked at her side, her presence a steady anchor amidst the quiet but palpable tension surrounding them. Behind them trailed a small entourage—Lady Autumn’s ladies-in-waiting, their skirts whispering against the floor, their hands neatly folded in front of them as they followed in careful, practiced steps. And though the courtiers they passed bowed in respect, their gazes lingered far too long, drinking in the sight of Eris Vanserra’s new bride. Or rather, the woman who had taken the place of the bride Baron had intended for his son.

Y/N held her head high, her face perfectly schooled into regal serenity, but inwardly, she could feel their scrutiny like claws against her skin. They were watching. Assessing. Judging.

Not just her—but Samira as well.

The courtiers’ gazes flickered between them, sharp with curiosity, with whispers passed between them like secrets in the wind. They did not know who Samira was, only that she was a foreigner, a lady-in-waiting of the new princess’s choosing—one who had not been hand-selected by the court. That alone was enough to make them wary, to set the stage for what would no doubt be more quiet resistance to Y/N’s presence here.

Lady Autumn, walking just a step ahead, seemed unaffected by the attention. If anything, she carried herself with a calm, elegant grace, as if the weight of those gazes had long since ceased to bother her. Her crimson skirts swept the floor, the intricate embroidery along her bodice catching the light as she finally spoke, her voice a quiet, measured thing.

“Princess Amira, how was your life back home?”

Y/N did not hesitate. She had practiced this. "I lived in the royal court of Montesere since birth,” she answered smoothly, keeping her voice light but firm. “My mother was a distant relative of the king’s, and I was raised alongside Princess Leone. Though, I did not leave the walls of my estates after my parent's assassination which is why the public never knew of me."

It was mostly true, just bent into a version that fit their lie.

Lady Autumn nodded, her expression unreadable. “So you were close to the princess?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer. But then Lady Autumn turned her head slightly, her golden-brown eyes flickering with curiosity as she looked at Samira.

“And you—what exactly are you to the King of Montesere? A courtier? A noblewoman?”

Y/N’s fingers tensed slightly at her sides. She could feel the intensity of the question beneath the surface, the unspoken demand for details. Samira chose her next words carefully, confidence oozing out of her every answer for it was the truth after all, “My father served the King in his council, and I was raised in the palace. I suppose that made me a courtier.”

A heartbeat of silence passed before Lady Autumn hummed, considering. “Curious.”

Y/N didn’t ask why. Instead, she pressed forward, shoulders straight, expression serene.

But Lady Autumn wasn’t finished. “And how did you and Eris meet?”

The real answer—he came barging into my house and gave me a deal that would save my mother and gain him whatever the hell it was—was, of course, not an option.

Y/N had rehearsed this too. “At court,” she said, voice steady. “Eris was there to negotiate trade agreements with the king. We met at a ball.”

Lady Autumn’s brows lifted just slightly. “And you courted so quickly?”

A small pause. One second too long.

Samira stepped in seamlessly. “The princess was quite admired in Montesere,” she said smoothly, glancing toward Lady Autumn with the perfect balance of respect and unwavering confidence. “It was only natural that Prince Eris saw her worth immediately.”

Lady Autumn’s lips curved in what might have been amusement—or skepticism. But she only nodded. “Of course.”

They kept walking.

The tension, however, did not ease.

Y/N’s thoughts drifted to the throne room. To Baron Vanserra’s cold, scrutinizing stare. To his words—how he had not even tried to hide his disappointment, how he had insulted her position in front of an entire room without so much as a second thought.

She had expected it. She had expected to be tested, to be challenged.

But now, walking through the halls of her new home, she felt the weight of what she had stepped into.

The courtiers, the officials, the aristocrats—none of them were pleased that Eris had brought back a woman of his choosing. None of them were pleased that she was here, wearing the colors of Autumn, standing beside him as his wife.

And she had to prove them all wrong.

“We’re here,” Lady Autumn said, stopping before a set of large, carved wooden doors.

Two guards pushed them open, revealing the chambers within. The room was warm, with a grand fireplace crackling to life, the rich colors of Autumn woven into the tapestries and furniture. Large windows overlooked the sprawling palace grounds, where the trees burned gold and crimson beneath the evening sun.

It was beautiful. And yet, Y/N could not shake the feeling that it was a gilded cage.

Lady Autumn turned to her, her expression softening slightly. “These will be your chambers. If you need anything, you may call for any of the attendants assigned to you.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you, Lady Vanserra.”

Lady Autumn studied her for a moment longer before stepping forward. And then, to Y/N’s surprise, she reached out and took her hands in her own.

The warmth of her touch was unexpected.

“I know this court,” she murmured, her voice so low that only Y/N could hear. “I know how cruel it can be. If you need help, do not hesitate to ask me.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She had expected Lady Autumn to be like her husband, like his sons—cold, distant, calculating. But this... this was something else.

Before she could find words, Lady Autumn released her hands and stepped back.

“Rest, Princess Amira. You’ll need your strength.”

Then, with a small nod, she turned and left, her ladies-in-waiting following close behind.

As soon as the doors closed, Y/N exhaled, her shoulders sinking ever so slightly.

Samira, ever the watchful protector, moved closer. “You did well.”

Y/N swallowed. “I slipped.”

Samira’s gaze softened. “And I caught you.”

Y/N let out a quiet, shaky laugh, pressing her fingers to her temple. “Goddess above.”

Samira smirked. “It’s going to be a long battle, Princess Amira.”

Y/N lifted her head, straightening her shoulders once more. “Then we best be ready.”

And as she turned toward the window, gazing out at the Autumn Court below, she knew one thing for certain—

The real game had only just begun.

The moment Eris returned to the Autumn Court, duty sank its claws into him like a starving beast.

Meeting after meeting, demand after demand—his father and his men wasted no time in calling for him, in demanding updates, progress, results.

He had expected as much.

Trade agreements, political alliances, the economic benefits of his marriage—none of it was left unexamined. His father’s advisors combed through every aspect, their cold, calculating eyes assessing every gain and every potential weakness.

Baron had been furious when Eris arrived with a bride of his own choosing. The tight clench of his jaw, the slight curl of his lip—it had been brief, but Eris had caught it. That moment of barely restrained rage, of realization that his son had defied him. That alone had given Eris a sliver of satisfaction, even if it was the easiest part of his plan.

Because the first step had been simple: Choose a wife. But not the one Baron chose.

It was everything else that would require calculation, patience.

His father wanted control. Over his court, over his sons, over him. He wanted to mold Eris into the perfect heir, to keep him leashed, to make him bow.

But Eris had spent his entire life resisting that leash.

And now—he had a new reason to resist.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his wife.

To her.

He had not seen her since they parted at the throne room doors. His mother had taken her under her wing, leading her through the halls while he had been dragged into politics, into strategies and expectations and the endless tedium of men thinking themselves gods.

Was she settling in? Had she felt the weight of every watchful eye on her? Had she realized yet that in this court, every smile, every greeting, every touch of warmth was merely another way to test her?

His fingers tightened slightly around the armrest of his chair.

She was strong. He had seen it in her eyes, in the way she met Baron’s stare without flinching.

But even steel could wear down under the right pressure.

Would she?

Would they?

“Eris.”

The voice snapped him from his thoughts.

He blinked, returning to the dimly lit dining hall, where only he and his younger brother remained. The rest of his father’s council had left for the night, leaving them with a brief, fleeting moment of peace.

Across from him, his brother—one of the less insufferable ones—raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you even listening?”

Eris exhaled slowly, regaining his composure. “You were saying?”

His brother leaned back, swirling the wine in his goblet. “I was saying—have you fucked her yet?”

The words hit the air like a slap.

Eris went still.

His brother only smirked, shaking his head. “You know, she does need to bear heirs for you soon after all. That’s all Father ever talks about these days.” He snickered, his smirk widening. “Grandchildren.”

The moment the word left his lips, Eris’ gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade.

The younger Vanserra barely had time to register the shift before Eris’ voice cut through the room, low and deadly. “What did you just say, you little shit?”

His brother only grinned wider, eyes gleaming with amusement, as if testing how far he could push. “I said—”

Eris slammed his hand onto the table.

The plates rattled, the silverware clattering against the polished wood.

His brother flinched.

Eris leaned forward, his voice a quiet, seething thing. “Don’t you ever ask such questions about my wife. You hear me?”

A tense silence.

His brother’s smirk wavered. But still—he pushed. “Oh, come on, Eris. It’s just a question. Father—”

“I don’t give a damn what Father wants,” Eris cut him off, his voice sharp as flint. “What we do—what she does—is none of your business. None of his. None of anyone’s. Understand?”

The air in the room had shifted, thick with something near tangible.

His brother held his gaze for a long moment, before finally huffing a short, amused breath. “Alright, alright. No need to get so touchy about it.”

Eris didn’t reply.

His fingers curled into a fist against the table.

His brother’s amusement finally faded, and he studied Eris for a beat longer before pushing back his chair and standing. “You’re really serious about her, huh?”

Eris didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t sure what the answer was.

His brother gave a half-shrug. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

And with that, he strode out, leaving Eris alone in the dim candlelight.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows against the walls.

Eris leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face, exhaling slowly.

This court was going to devour her.

But he would not let it.

Not while he still drew breath.

By the time Eris came back into their chambers, the fire had been lit, casting the room in a dim, golden glow. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the rich, earthy notes of the Autumn Court wood.

And there she was.

Sitting before the vanity, brushing some kind of balm onto her cheekbones, her face serene yet focused in the mirror’s reflection.

His gaze swept over her—the silk nightgown draped over her frame, the loose robe barely tied at the waist, the soft glow of candlelight casting delicate shadows along the curve of her collarbone and the slope of her shoulders.

For a moment—just a moment—something unfamiliar stirred in his chest.

He crushed it immediately.

It was late. He was exhausted. That was all.

Eris exhaled through his nose and moved across the room, shrugging off the heavier layers of his formal wear as he went. Through the mirror, her gaze flicked up to him, her fingers pausing slightly over her face before she resumed her motions.

“You’re back late,” she murmured, voice quiet yet even.

He unbuttoned his cuffs. “You’ll find that’s a common occurrence here.”

A faint hum was her only response.

She finished applying whatever it was and leaned back slightly, regarding her reflection. Her gaze flicked back to him as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over the chair near the fireplace.

Her lips twitched. “Your court’s ladies are two-faced vipers, you know that?”

Eris let out a soft, amused breath. “That doesn’t just apply to the ladies, I’m afraid.”

She turned slightly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she studied him. “Samira and I spent most of the day enduring a parade of them,” she mused, voice edged with something dryly amused, “coming and going, talking with me nonstop, inviting me for tea, fawning over my dress, my hair, my nails—I swear, one of them almost started crying about how much she loved the shape of my nails.”

Eris chuckled, shaking his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots.

She smirked. “Clearly, they’re all terribly wounded by the fact that you didn’t choose one of them. Instead, you opted for a foreigner to do the job.”

His lips curled slightly as he glanced at her. “You say that as if I had appealing options.”

She huffed out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I don’t know—some of them were quite persistent. Lady Ilara practically threw herself onto the floor at my feet just to tell me how lucky I am.”

“And did you tell her how terribly unlucky I am?” Eris drawled, smirking.

She gasped dramatically. “I should have! I missed such a good opportunity.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood and moved toward the wardrobe, pulling out a more comfortable shirt to change into.

She watched him through the mirror. He could feel her gaze, steady and assessing. Not wary—no, not wary. Not anymore.

By the time he turned back, she had stood as well, slipping off her robe and draping it over the chair.

His throat went a bit dry, but he quickly pushed it aside as he finished getting ready for bed.

The room felt… calmer, he realized. Not tense, not strained—just calm.

By the time he slipped under the covers, she was already nestled on her side, facing him.

He hesitated for a moment, then mirrored her, keeping a respectful distance between them. The space between them felt charged, yet not unpleasant.

She studied him for a moment before whispering, “So?”

Eris arched a brow. “So?”

“How was your day?” she murmured.

He huffed softly, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. “Dull. Tedious. Repetitive.”

Her lips twitched. “Poor prince.”

He turned his head slightly, giving her a flat look. “I had to listen to old men complain about trade routes for three hours.”

She pretended to stifle a yawn. “Sounds riveting.”

“Utterly.”

A small, comfortable silence settled between them.

Then, quietly, she murmured, “I saw your mother again.”

Eris stilled.

“She was kind,” she continued softly. “Made sure I was comfortable. Made sure I wasn’t… alone.”

A pause.

Eris exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling again. “She’s good at that.”

She studied him, then hesitated before whispering, “I like her.”

Eris didn’t reply for a moment.

Then— “Good.”

Silence.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, filling the quiet with a soft, golden hum.

Her gaze drifted slightly downward, as if debating something, before she finally whispered, “Goodnight, Eris.”

He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch the faintest trace of her expression in the dim light.

“Goodnight, princess.”

And for the first time since arriving back in Autumn, he felt at ease.

A loud rustling. The clinking of trays. The sound of heavy drapes being yanked open.

Y/N groaned as a sudden flood of golden light invaded the room, blinding her.

"Good morning, Your Highness," a chirpy voice rang out, far too cheerful for whatever ungodly hour this was.

She barely had time to blink away her grogginess before movement erupted all around her. One servant rushed to the wardrobe, flipping through gowns at a pace that made Y/N’s head spin. Another was already at her vanity, arranging jewelry and perfumes in neat little rows. A third knelt at the foot of the bed, sifting through endless pairs of shoes, and the fourth—the one who had spoken—stood beside her, hands clasped in front of her pristine apron, waiting for Y/N to acknowledge her.

Y/N rubbed her eyes, attempting to process the chaos. "Gods," she muttered under her breath. "This is how they wake royalty? It's a nightmare."

Unfortunately, the main attendant heard her and giggled politely, taking it as a joke. "You have quite the schedule today, Princess Amira," she continued, stepping forward with a tray of warm tea. "After breakfast, you will be meeting some of the esteemed ladies of the court for an informal introduction. The Lady of Autumn has arranged for you to sit with them in the gardens for morning tea."

Y/N stared blankly at her. Morning tea. With new two faced witches? Wonderful.

The servant continued, unfazed. "Following that, the royal tailor will be taking your measurements for new gowns suited to the Autumn Court's colors and customs. Then, before lunch, the palace steward would like to go over the courtly duties expected of you. After lunch—"

Y/N tuned out the rest of the list, already exhausted. She let her gaze drift, her body still sluggish with sleep, until it landed on the other side of the bed. Eris’s side was empty, the sheets long gone cold.

Of course he was already up. He probably hadn’t even slept past dawn.

Suppressing a sigh, she reluctantly let the maids pull back the covers and guide her to the large vanity. They worked around her like she was nothing but a mannequin, scrubbing her hands with rosewater, fixing her hair in intricate knots, and pulling the robe from her shoulders to dress her. She sat stiffly as they tied her corset, adjusted the silk sleeves, and slid jewelry onto her fingers.

It was suffocating.

Y/N wasn’t helpless. She could dress herself. She could tie her own corset, pick out her own gown, slip on her own damn shoes. Yet, they acted as though she were a delicate thing, incapable of lifting a finger.

The feeling grated on her nerves, frustration curling in her gut.

And then—finally, blessedly—her salvation arrived.

"Highness," a cool, unimpressed voice called from the doorway.

Y/N’s head snapped up, a breath of relief leaving her as Samira stepped inside, her sharp eyes sweeping over the room like she was already picking out targets to kill.

The maids hesitated, their movements faltering as their gazes flickered toward the lady-in-waiting. Samira returned the look with a blank stare, assessing them as if she were deciding whether or not they were worth her time.

Y/N wasted no time. She pushed herself up from the vanity, slipping away from the final touch-ups, and walked straight toward Samira. "Lady Samira is with me now," she announced, her voice smooth but firm. "You may all leave."

The head maid stiffened. "But, Your Highness—"

Y/N gave her a patient, expectant look.

The maid hesitated, then swallowed her protests and curtsied. "As you wish, Your Highness."

The others followed suit, bowing and retreating toward the door, though not without throwing Samira a few unmistakable looks of disdain.

Samira, ever unbothered, simply whistled under her breath as the doors shut behind them. "Well," she mused, stepping closer, "they seem friendly."

Y/N snorted as Samira reached for the laces of her dress, tightening them just enough to be comfortable. "I’d rather not be a subject of their gossip this early in the morning."

Samira chuckled. "Oh, give them time. They'll get used to you."

"Time?" Y/N scoffed. "If anything, gossip never stops in Autumn."

"Fair point."

Y/N shook her head, amused despite herself, as she stepped back and let Samira assess her final look. The dark red and gold gown suited her well enough, though she didn’t feel entirely like herself in it. Not yet.

Still, she squared her shoulders and took a steady breath.

"Come on," she said, making her way to the door. "Let’s get this over with. Eris will be at breakfast, right?"

Samira shook her head. "Nope. He was called out early this morning. Some monthly hunting tradition or something. Not sure—I couldn't hear clearly while eavesdropping."

Y/N gasped in mock horror, swatting Samira’s arm. "You absolute menace."

Samira only grinned. "You wouldn’t have known otherwise."

Y/N rolled her eyes as they stepped into the corridor, the tension of the morning easing just slightly with the familiar banter. At least she had one person in this wretched court who made things bearable.

As for the rest of the day… She braced herself for whatever awaited her.

Y/N had expected the court ladies of Autumn to be insufferable, but the sheer magnitude of their two-faced nature was almost impressive. Almost.

They had swarmed her the moment she entered the tea salon, their delicate hands pressing against hers, their high-pitched greetings overlapping like the chittering of birds. Princess Amira, your gown is simply divine! Your skin glows like morning dew! Oh, Montesere must be so grand! Tell us, how do they do their tea ceremonies?

Y/N had plastered on the same polite smile she had worn for years, responding with soft, measured words. Every time one of them tried to poke at her origins, she effortlessly redirected the conversation. My people value tradition, much like the Autumn Court, she would say smoothly, and Oh, you are too kind! whenever someone made a compliment that sounded suspiciously like an insult.

Samira remained close, her presence grounding, though her sharp eyes didn’t miss a single thing. Y/N knew her friend was making a mental list of which of these ladies would be the biggest problems.

Then, the doors creaked open.

The room fell silent.

The Lady of Autumn entered with the effortless grace of a woman who had spent centuries perfecting her role. She was dressed in deep crimson, her auburn hair braided into an elaborate crown, her golden-brown eyes scanning the room. The courtiers practically leaped to their feet, curtsying so deeply Y/N thought some of them might tip over.

Y/N stood as well, inclining her head slightly—not bowing, but acknowledging.

The Lady of Autumn’s lips curved in something that might have been approval or amusement. “Princess Amira,” she said, stepping closer. “I trust you are finding our court to your liking?”

Y/N smiled, keeping her voice light. “It is certainly… lively.”

A few of the ladies giggled nervously.

The High Lady’s eyes studied her carefully. “And how has it been, settling in? I imagine our customs must feel different from what you are accustomed to.”

Y/N knew what she was really asking. Do you know how to survive here?

She folded her hands in front of her, her expression smooth. “Every court has its own ways,” she answered simply. “I’ve found that learning them is part of the charm.”

Lady of Autumn opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak—

The doors swung open again.

A servant rushed inside, bowing deeply before turning his gaze to Y/N.

“The High Lord wishes to have a moment with the new princess,” he announced. Then his gaze flickered to Samira. “Alone.”

Silence.

A cold, stretched silence.

Y/N’s spine locked. The air in the room changed.

The Lady of Autumn stiffened, her expression betraying nothing, but her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her skirts. The courtiers were practically vibrating with curiosity.

Y/N’s mind raced. Beron. Alone. Why?

The very idea made her stomach tighten, but she forced herself to remain cool, detached. She tilted her head in a way that feigned mild curiosity. “Of course.”

And with that, she followed the servant out of the room, feeling every set of eyes on her back.

Y/N’s heart pounded with each step as she walked through the halls, the servant leading her toward the sitting room where Beron waited.

What does he want?

She had done nothing to provoke him. She had played her part perfectly. But then again, Beron did not need a reason. He was the kind of man who enjoyed making others squirm.

The halls of the Autumn Court felt colder than before.

When the servant finally stopped in front of a large door, he gave her a brief glance before pushing it open.

Beron was already inside.

He sat in a high-backed chair by the fireplace, his back turned to her, swirling a glass of wine in his hand.

The servant shut the door the moment she stepped in, leaving her alone with the High Lord of Autumn.

Beron did not turn to look at her as he spoke. “Come sit,” he drawled. “Don’t just stand around like a lost little fawn.”

Y/N clenched her jaw but schooled her expression. She moved to the couch opposite him and lowered herself onto the cushions, keeping her back straight, her chin high.

Now that she was facing him, she took in his appearance—his sharp, weathered face, the cold amusement in his eyes as he continued swirling his drink. His fingers were adorned with rings, one of them heavy with an ancient seal.

The silence stretched.

Then Beron finally looked at her.

“I thought,” he mused, “that while Eris is out hunting, why not have a little moment with my beautiful daughter-in-law? Am I right?”

There was something oily about the way he said daughter-in-law, something that made her stomach twist.

She forced a polite smile. “How thoughtful, my lord.”

He hummed, taking a slow sip of his wine. “I must say, you are quite the mystery to us all.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly. “Oh?”

Beron set down his glass, running a finger along the rim. “A foreign princess, raised in a court so very different from ours. And yet, you seem to carry yourself well enough.” He tapped the side of the glass. “Eris always did like to think for himself. I imagine he must have had his reasons for choosing you.”

Y/N knew better than to take the bait. “I would hope so,” she replied smoothly.

Beron chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. His fingers tapped against the arm of his chair. “You have been given much,” he said idly. “A husband, a title, a place in this court.” His gaze flicked to hers, sharp as a dagger. “I do wonder if you are worthy of it.”

Y/N held his stare, even as her pulse quickened. “That is not for me to decide.”

He exhaled a short laugh. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

The room felt stifling.

Beron leaned back, eyes studying her like a wolf observing its prey. “There will be a feast tonight in your honor,” he said casually.

Instead, she merely inclined her head. “How lovely. I look forward to it.”

Beron smiled. It was not a pleasant sight.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to leave, but she knew standing too soon would be a sign of weakness. So she remained still, keeping her expression serene.

Finally, after a long silence, Beron waved a dismissive hand. “You may go.”

Y/N stood, her heart hammering.

She turned and walked out of the room with measured steps, refusing to let him see the way her hands trembled.

The moment the door shut behind her, she exhaled.

And then, without hesitation, she went to find Samira.

The hunt had ended on a successful note, and yet the air surrounding Eris felt thick, like a storm was brewing on the horizon.

His stallion moved with practiced grace alongside the other riders, each one accompanying him on the way back to the castle. A few of the other high-ranking men from Autumn’s court were scattered among the group—Rylan, the head of the guard; Thorne, the huntsman; and even Lady Lyra, a noblewoman who had insisted on joining despite her delicate nature. They all rode with him, not necessarily as friends, but as necessary parts of the ever-ticking machine that was Autumn Court.

Their conversations were muted at first, the only sounds the rhythmic drumming of hooves against the dirt path and the occasional rustling of the leaves. The scent of pine lingered heavily in the air as the sun dipped behind the tree line, turning the world into a wash of oranges and purples.

Eris couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was the silent tension that clung to Rylan’s posture, the way Thorne’s usual jovial demeanor had been subdued, or perhaps it was the way Lady Lyra kept casting sideways glances at him.

“Your Highness,” Rylan spoke up first, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. “What’s your take on the new princess? Any thoughts on how she’ll hold up in court?”

Eris’ eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Rylan’s words. He didn’t have the answer to that question—not yet, anyway. He still didn’t know her well enough to judge, but his duty had been clear from the start: marry her, make it work, and bring the foreign bloodline into the fold.

“She’s adjusting,” Eris said evenly, keeping his voice calm. “Time will tell if she’s capable of handling this court. Most don’t last long, though.” He glanced at Rylan, meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression. “But she’s strong. I’ll give her that.”

“Strong,” Thorne muttered from the back, his usual cynicism heavy in his tone. “Is that what we’re calling her now? Let me know when she starts acting strong.”

Eris’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. He knew Thorne’s type—bitter, always looking for a weakness. His sarcastic remarks were a common fixture.

Lady Lyra, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up, her voice soft but cutting. “Perhaps it’s not strength that matters most, but obedience, Lord Eris.”

Eris’ eyes flicked to her, his lips curling into a thin, humorless smile. He wasn’t sure if she was truly making a jab at him or simply voicing an opinion that she thought aligned with the court’s ideals. Either way, it didn’t sit well with him.

“Obedience,” Eris repeated, his voice low, “can only get you so far in this world.” He didn’t bother looking at her as he spoke. “Better to find a balance between strength and control.”

A brief silence followed, and for a moment, Eris was left to brood in the quiet.

It wasn’t until they neared the castle gates that the tension finally broke. The massive iron doors of Autumn Court creaked open, and the cold wind of the evening wrapped around them like a warning. The light from the setting sun bounced off the stone walls, casting an orange glow across the courtyard.

“Dinner tonight,” Lady Lyra remarked, her voice light, as if she were casually changing the subject. “I hear the feast is in honor of your bride. Quite the affair, isn’t it?”

Eris’ brows furrowed as he processed her words. A feast? He had not been informed of any such event. “A feast in her honor?”

“Yes, it seems your father thought it wise to celebrate the union,” Rylan chimed in, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Don’t tell me you weren’t aware?”

Eris wasn’t in the mood for games. “I’ll speak with him later,” he said stiffly. “For now, let’s get inside.”

The group disbanded as they entered the castle, each rider moving to take care of their horses, but the unease remained. Eris’ stomach churned at the idea of a feast thrown for the new princess—he could already hear the whispered conversations, the shallow compliments, the way the court would try to place her in her “proper” position, whatever that was.

Before he could retreat to his chambers, however, Rylan caught his arm as he passed.

“You’ve been distant lately,” Rylan said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. “Is everything truly fine with your bride? She is foreign, you know. She may be... difficult to control.”

Eris’ eyes flashed. “Watch your words, Rylan. You know nothing about her.” He didn’t want to hear any more of this.

The guard looked at him with a half-sigh, half-snicker. “I’m just concerned, my lord. We all know how quickly things can turn south in this place. Better to be prepared than caught off guard.”

With that, Rylan let go of his arm, his eyes full of meaning.

Eris didn’t need to respond. The weight of his words was enough.

He could feel the pressure mounting as he stepped toward the castle doors.

As much as he hated it, he knew this—whatever was coming, whether it was the feast or the scrutiny that would follow—wasn’t going to be as simple as he had hoped. The foreign princess, the new addition to his life... she was already shaking the delicate balance in Autumn Court, and there was no telling what might happen next.

But one thing was certain. He would have to navigate this with every bit of cunning he had. His future—and hers—depended on it.

Eris strode into their chambers, the heavy door creaking slightly as it swung open. The room was dimly lit, the low, golden light of the evening sun spilling through the windows. He barely registered the sound of the door closing behind him, his attention immediately drawn to the figure standing near the window.

She was standing tall, poised as if the very air around her bent to her will. The light danced on the fabric of her dress, the hue of burnt orange and bronze seeming to glow against her skin. It wasn’t the rich velvet or the silks of Autumn’s court, but the delicate chiffon, light yet firm, that caught his eye. Its sheer beauty was accented by the fall of sparkling crystal autumn leaves that clung to the fabric, scattered as though they had been caught mid-flight, frozen in time. The way it shimmered in the fading sunlight—it was intoxicating, beautiful, like the very essence of the season itself had been captured and woven into the fabric.

Eris couldn’t help but stare. The sight of her—the way the soft fabric clung to her body, the curve of her silhouette enhanced by the delicate shimmer of the leaves—struck something deep within him. He could feel a slow burn starting in his chest, his eyes tracing every inch of her, lingering on the swell of her breasts, on the way the gown fit perfectly, highlighting her form in ways that made his breath hitch slightly. His mind was awash with a thousand thoughts, the heat building, pulling him closer without even realizing it.

She is breathtaking, he thought, unable to stop himself from drinking in the sight of her, his pulse quickening.

For a moment, he thought he might just stand there, lost in the picture she presented—until the sound of her voice cut through the air, sharp and cold, like ice shattering glass.

“Is this how it’s always going to be?” she asked, her tone laced with frustration, her words like a slap across his face.

Eris blinked, his thoughts snapping back into place as if his body had finally caught up with his mind. He stared at her, fully aware of the tension in the air, the electricity between them. His eyes flicked to her face, noticing the hard set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes—her gaze full of frustration and something darker. He could see the small muscles in her shoulders tense, the rigid line of her back.

He entered the room fully, closing the door behind him with a soft thud, but he did not take another step towards her. Instead, he met her gaze with controlled intensity, his expression neutral.

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something sharp, something that didn’t quite sit right.

Her eyes narrowed, her lips tightening as she took a step toward him, her body stiff, as though every movement was deliberate. “I mean, you come back in the evening and leave again at the crack of dawn. I barely see you during the day,” she snapped. “You’re always buried in your duties or whatever it is that you do... and I’m left here, alone.”

Eris felt a twinge of something sharp at the words, but he held his ground, masking the annoyance creeping up inside him. He gave a nonchalant shrug, as if it didn’t matter, as if it were all part of the arrangement.

“You knew what this was, Y/n,” he said with a cold smile. “You wanted this position. This is the life you chose.”

The words hit her like a slap. Her lips twisted with anger, and Eris could see her breath catch in her chest. Her eyes sparked with fury as she shot back, voice a low hiss, “Don’t you dare make it sound like this is my fault. You’re the one who chose this too, remember?”

He couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into his smile. “It’s not about blame. It’s about survival. We’re both here to reach our own goals, Y/n. That’s all that matters.”

Her eyes burned with something deeper than anger now, and her jaw tightened as she looked at him. “Well, let me make it clear, Eris,” she spat, her voice steady despite the venom. “This isn’t how I pictured my life.”

She turned sharply, her heels clicking on the floor as she crossed the room, looking out the window into the sprawling gardens. Eris stood motionless, watching her, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, his temper simmering beneath the surface.

And then the words spilled from his lips, low and filled with meaning. “Remember, this isn’t forever,” he said, his voice colder than he intended. “Once we’ve both reached our goals, we’re done.”

Her eyes flicked to him, the briefest flash of hurt crossing her features before she schooled her expression into something unreadable. She took a steady breath, her back straightening. “Fine with me,” she shot back, her voice icy, “I’m not the one holding you here, am I?”

Eris felt a sharp sting at the edge of her words, but he refused to let it show. His jaw clenched, and he stepped toward her slowly, his voice laced with challenge. “Why do you care so much, Y/n? This is fake anyway. Shouldn’t you be relieved I’m not all over you?”

She turned, her gaze meeting his head-on. “Relieved? No,” she bit out, stepping closer. “I’m not relieved. I’m frustrated, because this isn’t what I signed up for either. You want to keep pretending this is a marriage? Fine. But stop treating it like we’re strangers. We’re stuck here, together, whether we like it or not.”

The words hung between them, thick and heavy. Eris could feel the tension crackling in the air, like static before a storm. But before he could reply, she spoke again, her voice colder than ever.

“You know,” she said with a mocking laugh, “your father called for me today. Alone.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, his blood running cold in an instant. His protective instincts flared to life, and in two long strides, he was standing directly in front of her, towering over her smaller frame. His eyes roamed over her quickly, taking in every inch of her, searching for any sign of injury.

“Did he hurt you?” he demanded, his voice sharp, rough. “Did he do anything to you? I swear to the gods, if he threw another insult your way—”

She cut him off before he could finish, her voice cool and collected. “Relax, Eris. I handled him well. He didn’t touch me.”

But the frustration still lingered in his chest, burning hotter now, at the thought of anyone daring to mistreat her. “Handled him well?” he repeated, his eyes still assessing her, his body tense with the lingering threat of violence.

Y/n looked at him, a flicker of something in her eyes, but she gave a small, indifferent shrug. “He tried to play his games, but I didn’t let him. I know how to deal with men like him.”

She stepped past him then, brushing against him lightly. Eris’ eyes followed her every movement, his heart hammering in his chest. She was already walking toward the balcony, her voice cutting through the air one last time.

“Get dressed,” she said sharply. “We have a feast to attend in the gardens.”

Eris’ breath hitched slightly as he watched her, his mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words died on his tongue.

“Y/n—”

But she cut him off again, her voice colder than before. “Be quick. I haven’t got all day.”

With a heavy sigh, Eris turned on his heel and walked to his wardrobe. He could feel the weight of his frustration, his protectiveness, and the growing distance between them, but he pushed it down for now. There were more important things to focus on.

As he began to strip off his hunting gear, his thoughts raced. He didn’t know where this marriage was going, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t afford to lose control, not now, not with everything on the line.

Y/n could feel the tension in the air between her and Eris as they walked side by side toward the grand gardens. His arm was draped around her waist, the touch deliberate, for show. It was all for the guests, all for the pretense of unity, of togetherness—a marriage that no one had asked for but one that they were both forced to live through. Every step, every breath between them, was calculated, a performance meant to hide the chasm that was growing wider with each passing day. Her pulse quickened as they drew closer to the crowd, and the looming presence of Beron and the Lady of Autumn at the center of it all was enough to freeze her heart.

The garden was beautifully designed, a sprawling maze of hedges, fountains, and lanterns that flickered softly in the gentle breeze. The trees were trimmed meticulously, their leaves glowing in the twilight with the rich colors of autumn, their deep greens and oranges creating a lush tapestry of warmth. The air was slightly cool, carrying with it the subtle scent of jasmine, and the music that drifted from the strings of a harp and the lilting notes of a flute gave the entire scene an almost surreal feel.

As they entered, the gaze of the gathered guests fell upon them immediately, like a spotlight on a performer. Eris’ grip tightened slightly around her waist, grounding her, and for a moment, it was a surprising comfort. She had expected it to be more of a manipulation, a power play, but instead, his hand seemed to anchor her to the present, to the moment they were in. Despite the simmering anger still inside her, despite the distance between them that no touch could close, she couldn’t help but feel a small, fleeting sense of security in his presence.

But that comfort was quickly overshadowed by the weight of the eyes upon them. She could feel Beron’s eyes, cold and calculating, from across the room, his gaze sharp, like a hawk waiting for its prey to make a move. The Lady of Autumn stood beside him, regal and poised, watching them with an expression that was all too familiar—one of expectation, one of judgment.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel exposed under their scrutiny. Despite the elegant smiles on her face, the practiced grace she displayed, the poise she was expected to maintain, her mind was racing. She was acutely aware of every movement she made, every glance exchanged, every word spoken, as she and Eris moved deeper into the crowd, mingling with the other members of Autumn Court.

Eris led them through the guests, his hand steady on her waist, their movements a dance of diplomacy and pretense. People greeted them, raised their glasses in silent cheers, their words light, but underneath it all was a sense of weight. They were all watching, waiting to see how the newlyweds would behave. Y/n kept her chin high, her posture perfect, her smile unflinching. She spoke to guests with practiced ease, answering questions, laughing at the right moments, exchanging pleasantries as if this was her life—her real life. And as she did, she felt Eris at her side, the two of them a unit, a perfect match on the outside, if only the world knew the truth of it.

Samira lingered behind them, her sharp eyes always scanning the room, ever vigilant, though she stayed out of the way for the most part, as if she were there in case she was needed.

The feast stretched on, the music changing from one lively tune to another, the steady rhythm of the instruments filling the space with warmth. Servers brought platters of fruits, cheeses, and roasted meats, the decadent smell of each dish hanging in the air, but it all felt distant, as if nothing could quite reach her. The soft hum of conversation and laughter buzzed around her, but Y/n felt like she was floating, disconnected from it all, watching from a distance as her thoughts churned.

At some point, a waltz began, the melody slow and graceful, perfect for the evening’s atmosphere. Eris, ever the tactician, moved beside her without a word, his hand extended toward her. A dance—another moment for them to perform their unity. And although her heart tightened at the thought, she allowed her hand to fall into his, letting him pull her onto the floor.

The crowd parted slightly as the two of them joined the others, the eyes of every noble in the garden fixed on them as they took their first step. The smooth movement of the music wrapped around them, the notes pulling them into a rhythm. Eris' hand rested gently on the small of her back, his other hand clasped with hers, holding her firmly as their bodies began to move together, their steps matching.

At first, there was nothing but silence between them, save for the music. Her breath came in short, controlled bursts as they glided across the floor. She kept her head high, her expression cool, but in the back of her mind, her frustration simmered.

The tension between them was palpable—unspoken, but so thick it could almost be touched. Eris said nothing at first, allowing the silence to stretch between them like a thin wire, tight with unsaid words.

But then, his voice broke through, low and hushed. “You know, we need to do this right. Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured, his grip tightening around her waist. He pulled her a fraction closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Pretend it’s real. Sell it, Y/n.”

Her eyes flicked to his, her jaw tightening. “I’m not some performer you can manipulate, Eris,” she snapped back, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “This is your game, not mine.”

He ignored her response, his gaze hard, his expression unreadable. Slowly, his hand shifted, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together—closer than before, closer than was strictly necessary for the dance. The heat of his body against hers sent a jolt of awareness through her, her breath catching, even as her mind screamed to resist.

Y/n couldn’t stop the gasp that left her lips, her chest rising and falling with the sudden tension in the air between them. “Eris,” she whispered, her voice tight. “Everyone is watching—”

He cut her off with a sharp, impatient shake of his head. “Fuck everyone,” he growled, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Keep your eyes on me. We’ve got to sell this. You don’t want to make it worse, do you?”

The words stung, and a flash of anger flared in her chest, but she didn’t allow it to show. She refused to let him see how deeply his words cut. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from meeting his gaze, holding it, as their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, their steps smooth and flowing, their faces a mask of composure and grace.

She kept her voice steady, even as her heart pounded in her chest. “You’re so damn infuriating, Eris,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

But he only grinned, that same cold, maddening smile that seemed to mock her, the one that made her want to hit him in the chest. “I know,” he said simply, his eyes glinting with something dark.

For a long moment, their dance continued, their movements locked together, the tension between them growing with each passing second. The crowd watched with rapt attention, their eyes flicking between the two of them, as if trying to see beneath the polished veneer of perfection they presented.

And then, as the song neared its end, Y/n could feel the heat of Eris’ body pressing against hers, his breath warm against her ear. Her chest rose and fell, her mind whirling with a storm of thoughts, and she couldn’t stop the one thought that bubbled to the surface: I hate how he makes me feel like this.

But the dance came to an end, the music slowing, and she pulled back, stepping away from him. Her heart was still racing, her breath shaky, though she refused to let it show. She met his gaze one last time, eyes flashing, before the moment was over.

And just like that, they were done, their charade continuing as the night went on, the tension between them still alive and thriving, even in the quiet moments when no one was watching.

The music had quieted down, leaving only the soft murmur of conversation in the air. Y/n and Eris had found a quiet corner of the garden to sit, away from the prying eyes of the guests, but the silence between them still felt heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Her gaze drifted, half-lost in thought, as she tried to focus on the surroundings, the flickering lanterns casting soft shadows across the manicured lawns, the slow swirl of the breeze that carried the scent of jasmine. But none of it mattered. Her mind was elsewhere, elsewhere entirely, tangled in thoughts of the past and the future, of what had brought her here and what she was being dragged toward.

She didn’t even hear Eris shift beside her until his voice cut through the haze of her thoughts, sharp and clear. “We will attend another event in two days.”

She blinked, shaking herself out of her reverie, turning her head toward him with a long, exasperated sigh. “Another event?” she muttered under her breath, irritation lacing her voice. “Please, I can’t do it anymore. All these pompous fae coming up to me, pretending to care, fawning over every word I say... It’s exhausting.”

Eris’ gaze flicked to her, his expression unreadable, before he let out a small breath. “It’s not Autumn this time,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a new edge to it—one she couldn’t quite place.

Y/n froze mid-sentence, her mind instantly going blank as she turned to him, her eyes wide with confusion. “What do you mean ‘not Autumn’? What’s... what’s happening?”

“The other six,” Eris said, with the same measured calmness, like it was no big deal. But for Y/n, the world seemed to stop, the words crashing into her like a cold wave, drowning out everything else around her.

Her heart slammed against her chest, and a shudder worked its way down her spine. She turned her body toward him, her breath caught in her throat. “What—what do you mean ‘six’? As in—”

Her voice faltered, the words slipping from her mouth with difficulty. “As in... the other six courts?”

Eris’ brow furrowed in slight confusion as he looked at her, clearly unsure of why she was suddenly so unsettled. “Yes,” he replied, his voice still even, “you’re the new bride of my court, Y/n. And that means the other high lords, the other courts, need to come together to celebrate. To congratulate you, meet you... there has to be a ball.” His voice was matter-of-fact, as if this was simply the next step in a long series of expectations.

But to Y/n, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath her. The words echoed in her mind, and her throat tightened as she tried to swallow. She could feel her breath growing shallow, her pulse quickening, and her mind spinning wildly, desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything, to hold herself together.

“So...” Her voice wavered, and she hated how weak it sounded. She couldn’t stop it. “So does that mean everyone from Night... will be there?”

Eris paused, clearly confused by her sudden shift in demeanor. He turned to look at her, his frown deepening. “Yes...?” He sounded uncertain, as if he couldn’t understand why this was such a shock to her. “What the hell is going on, Y/n? What’s with all these questions?”

But Y/n didn’t hear him. She wasn’t listening. Her vision blurred, the edges of the garden fading into a wash of nothingness as the weight of what he had just said sank in, deeper and deeper until it felt like it was crushing her.

Azriel.

The name struck her like a dagger, slicing through the fog in her mind. Her secret brother, the one she had never known. The one she had never met. The one who didn’t know she existed, who would soon stand in front of her as a stranger.

Her breath came in ragged, shallow bursts, her chest tightening as the truth settled in. She would be in the same room as Azriel. She would look into the face of the brother she had been denied her entire life.

Her mind reeled, emotions she couldn’t name surged through her, bubbling up like a storm trapped inside her chest. There was fear—immense, suffocating fear. The thought of meeting him, of seeing the shadows of her bloodline, of being so close to him, but still so far away... it was too much.

What if he hates me? What if he knows? What if he sees the truth in me, that I don’t belong here, that I’m not his?

She could feel her hands trembling, and she gripped the edge of her seat, as if it might anchor her to reality, but the world felt too vast, too impossible to comprehend.

Would he look at her with recognition? Would there be a flicker of something in his eyes—something that told him, that told her, that they were the same? Or would he simply see her as nothing more than another stranger, another face in the crowd of high lords and ladies?

Y/n’s breath hitched, and she turned her gaze away from Eris, though her eyes saw nothing. Everything around her became a blur, the laughter of the guests, the soft clink of glassware, the distant hum of music—all of it faded into a deafening, overwhelming buzz. She felt like she was drowning in the noise, her thoughts spiraling out of control.

Azriel.

Her half-brother.

And yet, she had never once laid eyes on him.

She had never once had the chance to know him, to understand the person he was, to discover what family—if any—she had left in him. And now, she would be forced to look him in the eye, forced to pretend that she didn’t know exactly what it felt like to be so far apart from your own blood, to live in a world where the bonds of family meant nothing.

Her chest tightened further, her body betraying her with the tremor she couldn’t control. And still, she felt trapped, stuck, as if she were caught between two worlds, neither of which she belonged to.

She didn’t hear Eris speak again, didn’t hear his voice rise in confusion. All she could hear was the rapid beating of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears, and the image of Azriel—his dark wings, his haunted eyes, his presence that would soon be so close she could touch it, yet so far from her grasp.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her mind was full of questions, full of fear, full of everything she was too afraid to face.

And as her body began to tremble with the weight of it all, she heard Eris again, but it felt like a distant echo.

“Y/n?”

But she didn’t answer.

Her world was spinning, her heart hammering, and the only thing she could hold onto in that moment was the realization that soon, she would meet Azriel for the first time in her life—and she wasn’t sure she was ready for what that meeting might bring.

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Taglist: @batboyslutt @k-godling @littowl @jaybbygrl @kissesfromnovalie @talesofadragon @tele86 @annamariereads16 @circe143 @yukimaniac @babypeapoddd @darkbloodsly @hauntedstudentobservationus @i-know-i-can @12358 @holb32 @herondale-lightworm

#acotar #acotar x reader #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar imagine #eris fanfic #eris imagine #eris fluff #acotar fluff #eris angst #acotar angst

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definitelynotanalien · 1 day ago

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Ask: I love your 'Co-parenting Nagi with Reo' fic! It's sooo cute. If you feel like it could you maybe write a second part where Nagi tries to get them back together because my man just wants to fucking nap without having to Deal with two idiots fighting over his time? 🤍💜

P2 to this

The much too gaudy building stood tall in front of you, Reo’s mansion. It was large and over decorated, nothing had changed from the last time you were there.

A familiar buzz filled your ears, and you entered the building through the gate with your newly granted access.

Checking your phone, you reread the message Nagi sent you in the morning.

at reo’s house

sick :x

How vague. Fortunately you had kept Reo’s number, and unfortunately you had to unblock it to get more information about the situation.

According to Reo, Nagi was seemingly ailed and couldn’t leave Reo’s home, which was why he had contacted you to inform you. It’s a bit of a shame, seeing as this was your day to keep Nagi, but nevertheless life must go on.

You click the button for the floor the pair are apparently on, and wait for the elevator to go.

Hopefully you didn’t have to deal with this for too long, or at least you didn’t have to deal with being around him. In a perfect world Nagi would be faking sickness to get out of football training, but this isn’t a perfect world.

The lift arrived at the floor with a ding, the doors opening slowly, presenting you with the sorrowful sight in front of you.

Nagi was lying in bed, groaning weakly, as Reo attempted to feed him some soup.

You rush in, standing by the white-haired boy's side. “Nagi, are you okay?”

The bed was wrinkled, and Nagi laid like a corpse. His arms were tossed to the sides, while his legs sat haphazardly on the bed. One was dangling off, the other in a weird position.

He coughed, and Reo stared at him as if he was glass about to shatter. “I’m sick.” He responded, the corners of his mouth going downwards ever so slightly.

Usually, you’d call Nagi out for faking. He tended to pretend to be ill whenever you or Reo wanted him to do something he deemed a “hassle”, but what made your heart pound was how Nagi wasn’t on his phone.

“He’s been like this since we woke up. And he won’t let me call a doctor.” Reo explained, “I got a chef to make him some soup, but he refuses to eat it.”

Reo motioned towards the food he was trying to spoon feed Nagi with, it was professional and the colours looked dull. It lacked real warmth, despite it being steaming hot.

You inwardly sighed, “Nagi, why won’t you eat the soup?” You asked, as if he was a petulant child.

“S’not good.” He turned to his side, back facing you.

You and Reo exchange equally exasperated glances, for a second you’re taken back to the first time Nagi was ill, when Reo and you were still dating and everything was good. When you hadn’t overcomplicated the relationship, and you actually spent time together. You missed it.

You shake your head, shaking the thoughts away. “Nagi, do you want me to make you something?”

He nods lazily, his fluffy white hair flopping effortlessly on his head.

Reo stands up, placing the tray with the food on the bedside table. “I’ll guide you to the kitchen.” He offers his hand for a moment, seemingly out of reflex, before snatching it away. In the corner of your eye you see Nagi smirk, then, once you turn towards him he returns to his deadpan expression.

There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere before the two of you leave the room, Nagi seems almost pleased? Perhaps he’s just glad you’re making something for him.

You follow his movements towards the elevator down wordlessly, fidgeting with your fingers.

“How have you been?” He asks, clicking the button to call the lift.

He says it so effortlessly, as if the pair of you are mere strangers who are forced to make awkward small talk out of sheer politeness, you hate it. You hate how it makes your chest twist ever so slightly.

“I’ve been fine, thank you for asking.” You respond, rehearsed and dry. “How are you?”

Reo bites the inside of his mouth, it’s only noticeable due to the slight crinkle below his lower lip. One that you were used to seeing.

“I’m well.”

“That’s nice.”

An awkward silence continues, and time seems to flow slowly around you. Why does Reo’s lift take so long to get to your floor?

You continue to fidget with your fingers, waiting for a familiar sound as you zone out, looking at everything but your ex's face.

Reo glances at you ever so often, looking at your marble carved features, ones that could be on a statue. He admires the face he used to love, to worship, and he wonders what could have been. But the two of you have moved on, right?

A ding lights up the room.

“Lift’s here.” You announce, rather stupidly as Reo surely knows that it’s arrived.

He lets you step inside first, his hand on the side to prevent it from closing automatically. “Kitchen’s on the second floor.” He says.

You press the button, and the two of you begin to wait alone in the lift.

Then, the elevator shakes. It’s stuck.

Shit.

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loosethreadsofyoursoul · 2 days ago

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i made a tma playlist! it’s one song per fear entity, each corresponding to an avatar or victim (see below the cut for song breakdowns and more yapping)

cover art i downloaded from pinterest - it doesn’t say the artist but if u know who it is lmk !

the buried: like real people do - hozier

pov: alice “daisy” tonner

why were you digging / what did you bury / before those hands pulled me / from the earth

what did jon bury? what was he hiding as she suffocated? what was daisy hiding from before he came and pulled her out of there? did she ever feel like a real person?

the corruption: my strange addiction - billie eilish

pov: jane prentiss

hurts but i know how to hide it, kinda like it / … / my doctors can’t explain / my symptoms or my pain / but you are my strange addiction

and she did kinda like it, she was drawn to it, addicted to it, even with the pain and the detriment to her entire life. the corruption is toxic relationship core and she made a perfect avatar.

the dark: i will follow you into the dark - death cab for cutie

pov: manuela dominguez

if there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks / then i’ll follow you into the dark

i mean, she literally followed maxwell rayner into the dark. for all the good and the bad, she would have followed him even if no one else did. yknow, for cult reasons. but still.

the desolation: agnes - glass animals

pov: jude perry

agnes, just stop and think a minute / why don't you light that cigarette and / calm down now stop and breathe a second / … / a choking rose back / to be reborn / i want to hold you like you're mine / you're gone but you're on my mind

thinking about agnes montague for this song… jude really loved her. and it wasn’t pretty, she wanted control and loved her partly for how she was connected to their god, but the love was there. and i think she always missed agnes.

the end: if we were vampires - noah kahan, wesley schultz

pov: georgie barker

If wе were vampires, and death was a joke / we'd go out on the sidewalk and smoke / and laugh at all the lovers and their plans / i wouldn't feel the need to hold your hand

i considered this for trevor/the hunt bc of literal vampires but like the narrator is a realist in this song which is very much who georgie is. death is inevitable. danger is inevitable. and just because she couldn’t feel fear didn’t mean georgie wasn’t aware of what she had and that she needed to protect it and herself. she wasn’t reckless with her life which is what this song means to me.

the eye: every breath you take - the police

pov: elias bouchard/jonah magnus

every breath you take / and every move you make / every bond you break / every step you take / i'll be watching you

self explanatory. to me. still giggling about it actually.

the flesh: under your skin - jukebox the ghost

pov: jared hopworth

how much can you fit under your skin? / … / i can fit two people under my skin / … / and i can feel you laughing, under my skin / and the happy palpitations are making me… grin

also self explanatory. just shoving bones in there as often as possible. thanks a lot, jurgen leitner.

the hunt: run boy run - woodkid

pov: trevor herbert

run boy run, this world is not made for you / … / run boy run, break out from society / … / tomorrow is another day / and you won't have to hide away / you'll be a man, boy / but for now it's time to run, it's time to run

this song is so young trevor trying to find his place in the world after violently losing his brother to a supernatural being he didn’t know existed and feeling the responsibility of that while also being ousted from society. he never did stop running huh.

the lonely: agoraphobia - autoheart

pov: martin blackwood

tried on 13 pairs of / shoes and not one made me want to / leave this blessed house of mine / that’s just fine / i really don’t want to go anywhere / i don’t really want to go anywhere

i see why this is on so many lonely playlists and it really is martin in mag 170, trapped in that house by his own mind but also by what the house is doing to him. it’s a comfort, but not a good one, very much those feelings of self isolation.

the slaughter: in our bedroom after the war - stars

pov: melanie king

it's us, yes, we're back again / here to see you through, 'til the days end / and if the night comes, and the night will come / well, at least the war is over

i like this song for melanie and the slaughter bc it’s kind of an antithesis to who she is. as long as she has a war to fight, she’s comfortable. she won’t lose everything she’s fighting for. the war may be raging but by god she won’t be the one who loses.

the spiral: strawberry fields forever - the beatles

pov: michael shelley/the distortion

let me take you down / cause I'm going to strawberry fields / nothing is real / … / living is easy with eyes closed / misunderstanding all you see / it's getting hard to be someone, but it all works out

there’s the obvious “misunderstanding all you see” spiral and distortion connotations but for michael, it also was hard to be someone. nothing was real to him either, really.

the stranger: you’re somebody else - flora cash

pov: tim stoker

well, you look like yourself / but you're somebody else / only it ain't on the surface / well, you talk like yourself / no, I hear someone else though / now you're making me nervous

the irony of this song is that. she didn't look like herself. or talk like herself. but to tim, it was sasha, and she didn't make him nervous until the end when he became nervous about everything because of what happened to her. and he became somebody else, too.

the vast: space oddity - david bowie

pov: simon fairchild

i'm stepping through the door / and I'm floating in a most peculiar way / and the stars look very different today / for here / am I sitting in a tin can / far above the world

this song has very clear vast connotations but i also like the imagery of simon sitting far above everyone else. in a literal way but also he thinks he's above most people because of his abilities, so he uses them to cause problems on purpose which is ultimately his downfall. what an interesting, weird old man.

the web: control - halsey

pov: annabelle cane

my mind's like a deadly disease / i'm bigger than my body / ... / goddamn right, you should be scared of me / who is in control?

the thing about annabelle is that all those things are true but. at the point where we get to know her, she's part of something bigger than herself, it genuinely doesn't matter to her whether she lives or dies.

the extinction: love song (for the apocalypse) - ira wolf

pov: jonathan sims

i packed a photo of us from our very first date / you packed the water 'cause I couldn't carry the weight / and into the ashes you carved out a heart with our names / ... / we could say we told you so, but what good is that now

i like this song for jon and the extinction for many reasons but firstly i think it's funny to have jon's song be associated with the only entity that didn't actually mark him. but yeah this song is very jonmartin during the eyepocalypse. everything's a disaster, but they're together, and they endure.

#fuck it this has been in my drafts 5ever i’m releasing her #a lot of these songs are on other entity playlists and it makes sense bc they are all very fitting #but yeah i wanted one per entity and eventually realized the best way to have that is for them to be associated with an avatar #or someone strongly connected to the entity #cause i’m obsessed with agnes for the desolation but it doesn’t really make sense outside my brain until you put it in the context of jude #or maybe other cult members. and like the extinction cannot be associated with a love song unless you use jmart as context #do u get me or no #it’s ok if no i just wanted to write all this down so. yall are subjected to it xoxo #also ik the og if we were vampires is by jason isbell but im a huge noah stan and i love that cover so it had to be that version #the magnus archives #tma #the magnus pod #the fear entities #smirkes 14 #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #daisy tonner #georgie barker #melanie king #annabelle cane #long post #Spotify #em saying things

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confetti-critter · 1 year ago

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I played too much minecraft. Now its 8pm and I'm just now having dinnar (creem chease bagel+various ffuits) 😞

#i was terraforming around the base of the 3 jungle trees i built my house on #cuz i wanted to build a fence around them with lots of room for farms+such #and i kept thinking of things to do around the area #like ooh i should put bamboo blocks under the bamboo fence. ooh i should make a mossy cobble path. ooh i should make this 2X2 tree into a #3X2 one so the ladder on it is perfectly centered with my path. ooh i should put glow berries on the trees #that shit for like. 4 hours #but im really liking this world so far! theres a spider spawner almost surface level near the big lush caves under my 3 base trees!#and the caves go down to the diamond layer i got like 12 diamonds #AND theres an amethyst geode down there thats easy to get to!#and i haven't even made a map yet!#i think. the reason why i wasn't feeling my previous world was cuz i built a shitty base in a random hill and made a map right away to look #for the 'perfect' place to make my real house #i didnt do much exploring in non surface level areas (i got the compass to make the map by trading with villagers)#and i was getting discouraged. i wasn't feeling very motivated #lesson learned!#thank you world that spawned me on top of a huge jungle tree! now im back to being obsessed with minecraft #but that also means that now i dont have much interest in anything non-minecraft related #anyway. meowwwwwwww #personable #minceraft

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sieglinde-freud · 1 month ago

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i miss claude so badly im already planning my golden deer maddening run while still in the middle of black eagles. i just want my guy. my favorite guy. unfortunately i just love the black eagles as a group/cast but i am mourning my man (i never kill him btw)

#ann in fodlan #all my thoughts are wah wah wheres claude wah wah #but i love edie too… see this is why three hopes was great cuz i got to see both of them together #im an edie yuri truther its my top 3 edie ships but number 4… hehe. edie/claude… SORRYYYYY #actually im a aroace claude truther but if i must choose someone for him. hehehehsehhegrh #but i did read this lovely aromantic claude fic one time and its so dear to me. i think i bookmarked it i should go read it again #i love him. god.#and you know i do like the gd house #its just. i dont like them as much as i want to? not as much as be or bl #and part of that honestly is because i like units based on two categories:#characterization and how fun they are gameplay wise.#and unfortunately most of them let me down on that latter category 😭😭#like. ive tried so hard to make lorenz good. SO HARD. but i cant…. i dont know what to do with him!#dark knight wyvern paladin bishop dark mage sniper HE SUCKS!!!!#raphael is also always terrible for me so one time i just made him a mage bc if hes gonna suck i may as well laugh #he was outdamaged by my warrior lysithea. actually she went crazy hard for no reason #you know who i want to like more? hilda.#on paper she is the perfect character for me. shes pink she has an axe shes valentine themed #i LOVE the spoiled rich girl trope like sorry. sorry #but i just cant get over her racism and it shocks me sometimes how that is an unpopular opinion #but idk. i know its not real and it comes from a place of ignorance rather than malice #but when youve been cyril before to someone else’s hilda its like. its hard to watch #another support of hers i cant get over is actually her marianne support and like. unpopular opinion but i cant stand that support #idk how everyone j goes ‘yuri!!’ have any of you ever been marianne in that situation.#its so uncomfortable sorry. marianne get up… better yuri awaits you.#and its not even the fact that hildas wrong in these situations its that she never acknowledges that!! no one ever pushes back! its annoying #i do like her to some extent. i LOVE her characterization towards her motivations (why she doesnt try too hard/she doesnt believe anything #is worth lives)#and then on crimson flower you see that she HAS found a cause/someone worth her life (claude) and its SO tragic its so well done #TAG COUNT IM A CLAUDE OR LEONIE RIDE OR DIE THO I HAVE TO GO BYE

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lorephobic · 10 months ago

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idk how to even like. put this pain into words and i would normally vent about this shit on twitter, but the person its about follows me on there so like. anybody have skills for coping with the crushing realization that the person u love most in this world and have built ur life around sees ur current situation together as a temporary hurdle that's preventing them from their truest and happiest self which. is separate from u entirely? anyone know how to deal with this?

#live with my best friend in the whole entire world who. honest to god makes me the happiest person alive.#like im always waxing poetic about her in the tags on posts about platonic love #and i talk about her like she put the stars in the skies because for real it feels like she did for me #she is. the most important person in my life #and every day i feel grateful just to come home and sit with her #like honest to god i cannot imagine a future that is better than this #if i have a bad day i get to come home and my best friend in the world will make me laugh #what more could i ever ask for #but tonight we talked and she made it abundantly clear that. even if i do everything right #even if i'm the perfect roommate and the best friend i can be #in just over a year #when she's making enough money for it #she plans on moving into a place of her own #which like. makes sense for her. of course we were going to get to this point.#but i just. don't know what i'm going to do.#and it kills me that we're on different pages because for some reason i thought this was a long term thing #i thought we were going to move into a house together #i was just telling my coworker this week that we need to move into our forever home soon which was partially a joke #but also. even if i was making a million dollars a year.#i would still want to be here. with her.#or somewhere else. with her.#like it's so hard to imagine a future without her. it breaks my heart and scares the shit out of me.#and i know i can't afford it here. and i can't move in with strangers. and i'm working my dream job but i'm scared that i'm going to have t #give it all up and move back east because. i can't do this alone. and she's all i have. and all i ever wanted.#and she's leaving.#she doesn't want to be with me.#sry this is so fucking. ugh. idk. i just don't know what to do.#for real might just drop everything and move to chicago if it comes down to it ksdkfljdfs #its what sufjan would have wanted #fucked up terrible no good week

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pzos-amiserableidiot · 1 year ago

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was watching tiktok and a video had the song michael in the bathroom playing and I was vicerally reminded of being in middle and high school and mom always mentioning how much I looked like my dad (his name is michael) and how I slowly was able to start noticing it too and whenever I sang the song it reminded me of him and I felt like we were overlapping too often felt like id never be anyone but a shadow or his mirror and then i began learning i was trans and now the song makes me think of him even more (he’s not a bad dad he tells me he’s proud of me and stuff there’s just two really big moments he unknowingly failed and one long continuous one but he loves me and he’s proud and he supports me and he didn’t mean it and ive learned to make that enough) and the weird flashback I got when I heard that song and overlapping with his face and how if I transitioned I almost fear I’d be his clone and yeah Anywyas banger song

#the moments were that time he told me how he used to want something to be wrong with him and he’d cut himself to try and prove something was #and he showed me his incredibly faint scars and this was after I told them I was depressed and his solution was to tell me he faked it????#and didn’t even see anything wrong or worrying that he’d cut himself or was self destructive or wished something was wrong so he’d have #something to blame for being the way he was and like DAD THATS DEPRESSION but I was too numb and shocked and felt so so so betrayed becuase #it felt mocking at the time like his way of comforting me. his child. was to fucking show me his scars and be like I faked it so I know #it’s real and sorry I don’t understand WTF DAD #Other time was when he gave me his phone to play Pokémon go and I betrayed his trust (he didn’t like anyone going through his phone) and #went looking through and found Grindr and saw some shirtless photos and people messaging before I left #dad had a shirtlesss photo on there. and I had to pretend everything was fine and erase the evidence and give the phone back and help look #for furniture for our new house and never tell mom cause she’s been through so much already (I really shouldn’t have known I wasn’t her #therapist but this is about daddy issues right now not the mommy ones) so anyways I never told him and years later he told me his friends #signed him up for Grindr as a prank and to make friends and that’s why he thinks someone from his work I pranking him by signing him up #for a gay furry dating site and yet I saw him on his bed sometimes messaging people and yeah #oh and the long continous one was not divorcing mom and defending her saying she loves us when she rejected me and my sister for being trans #and being gone for most of my childhood working and never understanding the fucked up dynamic of home that took place and resenting him for #ruining the perfect routine (sharp words scary feelings always wanting to cry)#anyways michael in the bathroom always gives me weird feelings #cause I hate and love my dad and I looked up to him so much and loooking like him would’ve been a dream but sometiems the wrongs he did #come back haunt my thoughts and I want to scratch and tear apart every feature that makes me look like him. I look nothing like my mom so #there’s nothing physical to tear apart (I just act like her sometimes and have to force myself not the throw up and attack myself from the #disgust)

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tommygotwrittenoff · 2 months ago

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oh i love the idea of eddie getting most of the way through buying a house in texas before realizing the house has buck written all over it

#im so in love with it #eddie looking around the house with the real estate agent and maybe she says something about oh is your husband coming later?#and hes just like oh.#because the house buck helped him find was perfect #but it wasnt perfect for him. it was perfect for both of them.#buck had commented on the kitchen and how it was layed out perfectly #he had mentioned the clawfoot tub in the master bath and how hed always wanted one of those #had pointed out the big windows and how bright the space will always be #he thinks about how theyd looked at the listing and looked through the pictures and how after the real estate had done the #virtual walkthrough with them buck had turned to face eddie with a big smile on his face and had said #its perfect eddie #and now eddie is in el paso in this house that buck loves #hes standing in this house that has buck written all over it and he cant #he cant live here. he cant stay in el paso in this house that will never be a home #the people who are his home arent in it #chris wont ever playfully throw popcorn at him during movie nights #buck wont fall asleep halfway through a movie with eddie taking one look at his snoring form and deciding to fall asleep next to him here #because el paso will always be a faint echo of la #a reminder of something he already has somewhere else #a home. a family.#no matter what he does el paso wont ever feel like home #not if he finds a perfect house. not if he joins the epfd. not if he devotes his life to staying in his sons life the best he can #el paso wont ever feel like home when half of his home is in la waiting for him #and chris to come back #he already has a perfect home. he just needs to bring it all back together #and so eddie takes another look around the house and stops imagining what his furniture will look like in it and makes a decision.#he smiles and says to the agent #well. my husband and i decided we arent ready to leave la. i just wanted to take one last look at this place #but anyway what do you have available for short term rent for two people?#me thinks

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rafeysbunny · 3 months ago

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‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

9K notes · View notes

tonycries · 11 months ago

Text

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing.

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h.

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly.

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air.

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome.

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real?

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique.

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot.

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks.

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo?

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-”

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine.

And then it’s all black.

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact.

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into?

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment.

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful.

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that.

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.”

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-”

“It’s al-”

“I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.”

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about.

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling.

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso.

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye.

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve.

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh.

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again.

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,”

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him.

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that-

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory.

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit.

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you.

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock.

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.”

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock?

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well.

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins.

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him.

All for him.

It’s too much.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.”

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon.

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind.

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand.

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could.

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him.

You.

And then he’s cumming.

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him.

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow.

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course.

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved.

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt.

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time.

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R.

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right?

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture.

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success.

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him.

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm.

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing.

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting.

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue.

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that.

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously.

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?”

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions.

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples.

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping.

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing.

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips.

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face.

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue.

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water.

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do.

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide.

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need.

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you.

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue.

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs.

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could.

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life.

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl.

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips.

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same.

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat.

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later.

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face.

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt.

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well.

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him.

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more.

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty.

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass.

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them.

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him.

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders.

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more.

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him, “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get.

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you.

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut.

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want.

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully.

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually.

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves.

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed.

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.”

Except maybe those.

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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blkkizzat · 4 months ago

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🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟷........... THE STRONGEST ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: its midday and your clingy-ass boyfriend—gojo satoru—should be hard at work right getting rid of these doppels not knocking at your door—gotta be a fake... right?! classifications: bimbo!reader (canonverse of otaku!gojo's bunny!reader), yandere-esque Gojo, nipple play, recorded sex, lots of sex toys, dirty talk, panty theft, extreme overstim + slight omorashi. incidents: 4.4k .......shout outs to @yung-notorious for beta-ing some of this!

*knock-knock-knock-knock-knock*

Rapid, insistent knocks interrupt your laughter as you chat with friends, carefully brushing a fresh coat of polish onto your toes. You weren’t expecting anyone, but the familiar, overly enthusiastic rhythm—knocking out the tune of Rick Astley’s "Never Gonna Give You Up"—leaves no doubt who it is.

Satoru.

You sigh.

Although you haven’t seen Gojo much lately and are usually happy to see him, his timing this time irritates you for a couple reasons—first, of course he’d interrupt right in the middle of your much-needed girl time! You were desperate to hang with your friends again, especially after being stuck in lockdown for the last 2 weeks.

There was some juicy tea getting spilled on the call too!

More importantly, you weren't in a hurry to get up from the sofa—especially with your freshly painted white toes you’d propped up on the coffee table to dry. The last thing you wanted was to ruin them by getting dust on them while answering the door when Gojo wasn’t even supposed to be here right now.

“BBL, y’all.”

Reluctantly ending the call, you switched over to your Ring camera app.

Sure enough, the security feed loads to reveal Gojo, grinning up at the camera with his glasses perched on the brim of his nose and a large pink shopping bag in hand.

Huh? There’s no way he’s off-work already!

Taking note of the time it reads 1:30 p.m. confirming that Jujutsu society’s strongest sorcerer is skipping out on work, again—pshh typical.

“C’mon babe, let me in!”

Urgh, what was he even doing here?!

Shouldn’t he be the one leading the charge to kill all the doppelgängers? The faster he exorcized them, the sooner you’d finally be able to go outside again.

This doppelgänger outbreak felt like covid quarantine all over and it sucked!

Satoru needed to get his ass back to work so you wouldn’t waste the best years of your life cooped up inside!

“Go away, doppelgänger!”

You use the intercom feature to speak to Gojo, still not budging from the sofa.

Gojo pouts.

“But it's me, baby! Open the door Bunny bae, please I missed you princess—it’s been too long!”

Satoru’s annoyingly pretty baby blues look even bigger as he pleads into the camera, his lip quivering, making you roll your eyes.

It’s barely been 48 hrs since you’ve last seen him and he still blows up your texts all day!

But the world’s strongest sorcerer was also the world’s clingiest—so you suppose his doppelgänger would be too. Although, you were pretty sure this was the real deal, that still didn’t mean you wouldn’t give him shit for skipping out on work.

“Huh, that’s funny because there's no way you could be my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, the strongest—and the one who is supposed to be making sure I’m not stuck in the house for another 2 years. It’s been freaking 2 weeks already Toru, I’m going batshit in here!”

Pushing his glasses back in place Gojo hides his scoff, standing up straight.

Shit.

He hopes you aren’t onto him.

Sure, he could have contained this whole thing in a few days tops.

Despite the doppelgänger ability to mimic appearances and cursed energy patterns, Gojo’s Six Eyes could see right through it easily. His power allowed him to perceive the core of a soul with perfect clarity, instantly distinguishing the souls of a human and a curse.

But instead of resolving the problem quickly, Gojo made up all kinds of excuses to you (and especially to the higher-ups) about why it was taking longer than expected.

The truth was, simple though—for once, just this once, he decided he had earned the right to be selfish.

Not having met you until after the covid quarantine, Gojo had never experienced that kind of isolation with you—and was immensely jealous that your last boyfriend had. Now that he had a taste of it, there was nothing he wanted more than to keep his lil bun-bun safely caged up, waiting for his return everyday (and he did try to make it back everyday).

Okay, so he is in fact being really selfish.

Luckily for everyone else though, most of these doppelgänger curses are relatively harmless other than causing absolute chaos with their mere existence alone—unfortunately they could also be seen by people even lacking cursed energy.

Gojo took care of the stronger ones, the ones with more nefarious intentions, while letting the little ones continue to run loose—all so he could have you to himself.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo is intentionally sentencing you to what seems like a never ending cycle of boredom so that when he finally gets home you cling to him like a grain of sweet sticky rice. So eager for any external stimuli or interaction you’d be up for all manner of his perversions you’d normally shoot him down for.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still a brat though, making him work for it—something that Gojo also noted was his fault though for spoiling you rotten, not being able to deny you anything. So you pretend to be annoyed when he showed up, but Gojo knew the truth—those thick thighs of yours would soon have your slick running down. Your cute, slutty lil pussy dripping would start dripping the moment you’d hear his voice.

Yeah, yeah, he’d get rid of those things eventually—but Gojo was going to enjoy this quarantine with you for a bit longer.

“Even the strongest need a break baby! I need my sweet lil’ energizer Bunny to recharge my batteries, eh?”

You crinkle up your nose seeing him wiggle his eyebrows on camera.

He's such a dorky cornball.

“And this break…it’s approved by Yaga, hm?” Gojo whines at your questioning, not wanting you to deny him any longer nor throw technicalities in his face he didn’t wanna have to answer.

“Come on, Bunny! I even brought you real nice gifts to show you how much I missed you!”

The hot pink shopping bag sways in front of the camera, Gojo dangling it as if it were supposed to be a tempting treat.

But he’d have to do better than some generic pink shopping bag to impress you!

You’ve gone back to your toenails, starting to apply the top coat while you let him squirm out there for a while longer. You knew he could break the barrier in the blink of an eye but you also knew that he was a big enough baby to want you to let him in on your own.

Well tough luck brah.

“That sure doesn’t look like a Chanel shopping bag, Toru!”

“Um, that’s cause it’s not—Bunny you told me you don’t even like me picking you out clothes anymore!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes—of course you said that as whenever Gojo picked something out for you, it ended up being the most scandalous or over-the-top piece in the store. How he would even managed that at a classy brand like Chanel, you had no idea. (Though, little do you know, in reality, he always acted they were ready-to-wear while they were custom-made—just for you.)

“I got us some toys, baby bun! Don’t you wanna play with me?”

You don’t need to ask him ‘what kind of toys’ from the goofy ass expression that is on his face.

“That’s not making me want to let you in at all, Doru!”

“Hah? Wha—Doru!?”

“Yeah, short for Dopple-Toru.”

You try to keep a straight face but can’t help giggling as you sneak a peek at your phone, still putting on as if you're completely ignoring him. His expression on the camera is priceless though and you wish you could snap a screenshot of his mouth wide open, glasses nearly sliding off, looking utterly incredulous.

“Hey! Come on, Bunny bae, that's not funny! I know you know it’s me—and I also know your pretty pussy misses me!”

Oh knew, it was your perv ass boyfriend and yeah you did miss him—but you missed your freedom more! And for that reason you are gonna make him think twice before trying to skip out on work again. Not to mention, for having the nerve to show up once you finally found something interesting to stave away your boredom other than him!

“Hmm, I don’t know—prove it then, Doru…”

While Gojo loves goading you into playing games and usually lets you win them too, after nearly 48 ‘grueling hours’ away from you, all he wants now is to simply relax in your company. Ya know, nothing too crazy, just the typical cuddles with him calmly resting his face on your titties while his cock nestles deep up against your cervix—just something casual.

Gojo calling your bluff, ups the ante.

“Heh, kay…”

You’re actually not paying attention this time, admiring your work on your toes and contemplating on the color you should paint your fingernails as Gojo goes silent for a moment.

Yet once you hear a loud zip, the rustling of fabric, and a belt clank to the ground your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you grab your phone, bringing it comically close to your face while blinking multiple times just to be sure.

Satoru quite literally has dick and balls out, dangling in the breeze, in front of the entire goddamn neighborhood!

And despite your initial horror and best efforts to remain upset, you pause, your inner slut causing a slight brain malfunction—as even from the small ring camera you can see his deliciously thick cock bobbing fully erect while his mushroomy tip shamelessly drips viscous globs of pre onto your welcome mat.

Thankfully your short-circuiting of common sense only lasts a few seconds before it starts functioning again.

“TORU HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING SUGAR-FUELED MIND!? YOU KNOW THE HOA IS ONE MORE INCIDENT AWAY FROM KICKING ME OUT, RIGHT!?”

Sighing, you groan in dismay as you’ve been on thin ice with your HOA for a while now because of Gojo.

Not only have you received the most noise complaints in the neighborhood by far, but he also made ‘alterations’ to your home by installing unsanctioned rows of cypress trees. Claiming it was a safety precaution to block the view inside your home from your ‘sketchy neighbors.’ He also ever so obnoxiously takes up 2 parking spots on the street so no one could even “park too close to scratch his Benz” and even sometimes double parked in front of your neighbors house when all the street parking was taken.

You would most definitely be kicked out if anyone in the neighborhood saw all of Gojo’s fairly large bits and pieces freely on display.

And yeah, Gojo did know that.

He also knew if you got kicked out and had to move you’d have no excuse then not to move-in with him.

Where else would you be able to stay on such short notice? He soon turn that temporary situation into a more permanent one too.

Finally leaping to your feet, you practically trip over yourself—all thoughts of preserving your polish forgotten—as you sprint to the front door.

You can’t get there fast enough, yet as soon as you do, you don't hesitate to lower the barrier and fling the door open.

“Hey sweetn—”

Cutting him off, you grab Gojo by his collar and yank him inside before slamming the door shut behind you.

But you don’t get a chance to scold him. The moment you turn to face him, your lips suddenly meet his, and his large frame envelops yours into a warm embrace.

Your first instinct is to push him away, but even when meeting your furious eyes he just grins knowingly—twirling his pointer finger in the air above him. You frown, confused, until it hits you—Gojo has set up another barrier over your own.

No one could have seen him, but he’d let you believe that so you’d let him in faster.

Urgh, Toru is far too crafty for his own damned good.

It's your turn to pout now, having clearly lost this round badly.

But Gojo doesn’t let the expression linger—his mouth is hot and hungry on yours again in an instant. Your soft lips are easily parted by his thumb as he slows to tease his way past your lips to glide his silken tongue into your mouth causing him to sigh—you taste sweeter than any candy to him.

The kiss soon turns more passionate as the strokes of his tongue flick longingly over yours, devouring you as he skillfully melts away your anger—in addition to all the bones in your legs. Reduced to a puddle of goo you completely forget you were just about to cuss him out as your legs now press together from the throbbing between your thighs. Your need becoming more agonizing as you grow dizzy from the lack of air.

When Gojo finally lets you breathe again, he chuckles at your dazed expression. Your lids are lowered and you press your body deeper into his own, clutching onto his collar as you nestle your face into his neck, savoring his scent washing over you.

“So despite all that sass, I take it you actually missed me then?”

You nod eagerly against his skin, in spite of yourself. Even though he isn’t supposed to be here right now, you can’t hold back any longer how happy you are to see him.

“And my pretty Bunny girl is going to let me play with her now?—All of her?”

You gasp as Gojo does not wait for an answer before slipping a hand into your shorts. Hissing at your heat, Gojo swipes his thumb over the outer folds of your cunt and his fingers quickly are becoming soaked before they even got the chance to get up inside you.

Placing a chaste kiss on your temple Gojo's agile fingers had merely confirmed what he already knew: You’re utterly drenched—his needy, cute lil’ pussy was quite literally begging for him and who was he to deny her?

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“F—Fuck! P-pussy too good. Keep the phone up though, nice and straight Bunny! T-That’s it, you’re the best! SHIIIIT— n’you got the cutest sluttiest lil cunny! C-Can you get a close up of how well my cock is digging out your pretty lil’ bunny hole?”

“Mmmgh!”

Gojo’s filthy words and his even filthier fat cock are bringing you closer to your ecstasy filled ruin as they push you past your limits, engorged veins scraping your walls with every thrust. You're covered in sweat and your entire body buzzes—quite literally as there are vibrating clamps suctioned onto each of your nipples.

Mmmm, it all was driving you wild!

Not imagining yourself in this position when you woke up this morning at all.

Especially as initially, when Gojo said he bought toys, you thought he had meant fuzzy handcuffs, silken ropes or maybe even some more of that warm edible candle wax that tastes like strawberries—but all this!?

You could barely see out of your bleary, tear-filled eyes completely caking your cheeks in streaks of your mascara that while supposedly waterproof, definitely is not Gojo Satoru proof.

In addition to the mind-numbing bliss radiating off your swollen perky buds, your body was covered in some sort of edible oily slick. The warmth was initially similar to that of candle wax—yet morphed into anything but. This time the heat was coming from the flames your own body generated as the effects of the candied warming oil made every part of you saturated in the fluid buzz with need.

Of course, after soaking your body with it down the tips of your toes and paying extra attention to your nipples, Gojo had been thoughtful enough to pour the most of the remaining bottle over your throbbing lil’ clit.

Except now there isn’t just a shallow throb between your legs as the fiery sensation of every individual nerve in your cunt was cries out for him to ruin you harder.

Your legs are wrapped around him impossibly tight as your heels dig into the small of his back and yet somehow, he still manages to snake a hand between your slippery bodies to pet his favorite girly spot on you—your clit. Toying with the swollen nub in a painfully slow manner compared to the intensified thrashing of his hips against your own.

The motions only serve to push the heart-shaped platinum and pink sapphire adorned butt plug deeper into your ass with every loud vulgar smack of your wet bodies joining—the strange feeling of it jostling against the very walls his cock was drilling has you drooling as Gojo further tests the limits of passion he can push over.

“C’mon Bunny, you're going to miss the best part, ya better capture it really well how much squirt I can pump out of this cute cunny—or we’ll simply just have to do another take. Not that I’d mind spending all day in your pussy…”

You're not in your right mind to scold him for trying to skip out on more work and you certainly don't have the full capacities to hold his phone up any better—what with your hands were tied together over your head to the bed. Gojo utilizing the fuzzy cuffs afterall.

You can’t even really see if you are getting the right angle as you desperately hold onto the device, keeping it straight and upright lest it slip and drop right on your head.

“Always such a good girl for me huh, princess?”

Tuh—like he was giving you a choice!

You're unable to clap back though as your tongue, so lax from all the pleasure, sinks back to the roof of your mouth. The slobber gathered pools past your lips, over your chin, down your neck to your tits and Gojo is eager to slurp the train up your body and back to your lips, kissing you.

It goes without saying, but Gojo in ‘director’ mode is absolutely diabolical.

The reason being needs the perfect footage of him playing in your guts to make sure he had good enough material to fap to if you wanted him to spend more time away from you while he hunted down the doppel-curses.

“Be good for me a bit longer, ‘kay baby?”

Yet his gentle coos don’t match his demeanor.

Glasses long discarded, Gojo’s own blue eyes looked crazed. He’s unconcerned with the sweat matting his hair to the sides of his face or the wave of slick your pussy splashes onto his taut abs. Abs are shuddering from just how tight of a hold your pussy has on him—working him overtime as his heavy pants soon twist into deranged lil whines.

“M-Me and my lil’ buddy missed our two girls so, so, s-sooo much—AH-HAH-F-FAHHHCK! G-Gotta show ya just how much!”

Shamelessly, Gojo had dubbed his cock—his little buddy—the joke that would have emasculated some men but Gojo made it intentionally with the irony that he was anything but little.

“T-They were made for each other baby—lil’ buddy and the wet pretty girl between these thighs, yeah?”

The ham that he is, Gojo always sounds extra insane whenever a camera is recording, howling with amusement when he watches the playbacks. Yet in this very moment, he was as serious as a heart attack—and you definitely weren't laughing as your weeping pussy gets pounded into deeper into ecstasy filled oblivion.

“Shhh—Stawwp, S’toruuuuu!”

Tsk, you still could form a coherent thought?

That simply wouldn’t do for Gojo who is working so hard and bought all these new toys to see you come completely undone—and he needed you too soon as he wouldn’t last much longer in your squishy gooey core himself—not how your cunt was holding him in the wettest sluttiest lil hug.

There's still one item left that he hadn't used yet though, that in trying to keep up his sleeve he'd nearly forgotten about entirely—his own brain quickly leaving itself on simmer by your greedy lil’ pussy sucking him in so sloppy.

Slightly changing your position for more leverage, he throws one of your legs on his shoulder slotting himself between your cushy thighs while he straddles the other leg. Fucking you sideways with increasing intensity from the bruising grip on your hips pulling your pelvis towards on him as he meets your thrusts smacking directly into your cervix.

“Heh, I know what will finish you off! Ya ready to cum baby? Squirt all on this dick you love so much, eh Bunny?—Yeah ya fuckin' will.”

When you don’t answer right away Gojo delivers a harsh slap directly on your clit, the moisture causing the increased sting to intensify sending your senses into a state of floating. Yet, bringing you back to reality, another harsh smack lands on your cunt and you jerk against your restraints, nearly dropping the phone on your face for real this time.

You don’t understand what he's saying to you but you not regardless, eyes rolling back into your head—every single pore on your skin submerged in pleasure. Completely unaware, you don’t hear the additional buzz of the final toy until you feel its silicone lips latching onto your clit while the rigid faux tongue juts back and forth across your bud.

Eyes practically leaving your skull for the second time today, everything flashes white, blinding you even with your eyes wide open. A scream so guttural it comes out silent, the ball of tension in you finally bursting as releases flushes through your entire body.

Cumming harder than you ever had before, you just let go completely, gushing around Gojo’s thick cock still pistoning in your now drenched pussy. The splash zone from your cunt is quite a bit more than usual as a giant warm wet spot begins to soil and expand underneath you both.

Ears ringing, Gojo sounds a million miles away as you hear him chattering on about something—the phone?

You wiggle your fingers, realizing you must have dropped it, but you’re still clueless about what has him so excited—until Gojo’s voice finally slices through your haze, yelling out in absolute wonderment—

“HOLY SHIT BABY, DID YOU JUST PISS ON ME??? MMM FUCK ME FOR REAL!?—SHIT! YOU WETTER THAN A WATER PARK BUNNY—SO FUCKIN NASTY! PLEASEEEEEE PLEASEEEE TELL ME YOU GOT THAT ON CAMERA!”

Suddenly, it dawned on you that when you had let go, you had quite literally let it all go.

You could die—and if you could muster the strength to move you surely would have raced out to the backyard to quickly dig yourself a whole to do just that in. Yet that clearly would not an acceptable conclusion for your degenerate perv of a boyfriend who is acting like a sinner saved—praising pussy like a newly reborn evangelist baptized in the essence of your erotic filth.

His elation is simple as he figures how much you really had to trust him to be able to let go and lose yourself to him to that extent—now he wants to lose himself to you as well.

Easily drowning all inside your sloshing pussy like he never swam—Gojo doesn't stop, your pissing only encourages him to fuck himself further into a pussy drunk state to rival your own cock-induced stupor.

Yet, somehow he still maintains enough control to effectively lavish praises for how naughty and shameless your lil pussy is.

The frenzy drives him directly to his nut, eyes dilate further and slobber frothes past his lips while spearing his cock into you with renewed vigor. Whimpering and stuttering his words and hips alike. Gojo presses your leg draped across him back against you to be sandwiched between the two of you as leans forward to further ravage your swollen kiss bitten lips again.

Twisting you up like a pretzel and near the point of passing out from overstimulation you his insane joyous laughter sounds miles away as he topples over his peak pumping ropes of his vicious cum—that he’d been saving up for all you over the last two days—into your battered creamy core.

Gojo’s thrusts begin to slow but he’s in your guts just as far pushing cockhead right against your cervix stealing your lips into another fiery kiss.

Once Gojo finally lets you breathe air again, you’re completely out of it, the dopey blushing smile on your face. The embarrassment from pissing all over him is completely forgotten as hearts all for him linger in your eyes.

Sex with Toru was never dull to say the very least.

“There you go, there’s my good girl, huh Bunny? Not bored anymore baby?”

Gojo smirks down at you knowingly while peppering your face with sweet loving kisses as you’re steadily drifting off, allowing every exhausted nerve to claim you.

It's still a good minute before Gojo slides out of you, seeinghis discarded phone next to you—it's still recording. A mischevous smile plays on his lips.

Wanting to capture the aftermath of his handiwork, Gojo sweeps the phone across your body, thumbing off moisture from your dewy soft skin soiled with warming oil and sweat. Making sure to linger longer on your lightly heaving chest and the sporadic quiver of your thighs.

Zooming in even closer, Gojo’s two long fingers to part your swollen lips open, admiring more of his work—his masterpiece that was the copious amounts of cum and piss dribbling out of your abused lil’ hole down to the crack of your ass.

Now Gojo really has a dilemma—he wants to keep filming you as his cum, ever so slowly, trickles out of you. He thinks this scene would make the perfect time-lapse of the creamy sap seeping from your cunt like sugar maple. But he’s also fighting the urge to also suck all the creaminess out of you himself—the cum rimming around your puckered lower hole tempting him to Gojo start there and slurp and suck his way up your clit.

Truly, he never gets enough of how his taste mingles with yours—and he’s quite curious to know how the additional waterworks will add to your delectable flavor.

You were so fucking filthy and so willing to try new things all thanks to this doppel quarantine causing you to make this big a mess in the first place.

God he needed this.

More.

He had to have more from you.

Gojo couldn’t possibly bring this all to an end anytime soon. Cooing against your inner thigh Gojo makes a promise to your cunt.

“Heh, don't worry pretty girl, I'ma give you six more months of quarantine at least! Can't wait to—”

“—TORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!?!?”

Whoops.

Yeah he definitely thought you were already fast asleep—teehee.

......RESULT: PASSED 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍—𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

comment and reblog! next up toji, already finished posting—10/20

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