#i hope this lives up to the spirit of the game!

[sorceresssundries]

A Spot of Tea

This is a little extract from the next chapter of The Warden's Watcher, but I thought i'd share on it's own.

Author's Note: Set from Emmrich's POV early game, in act 1, when Taash is still using she/her pronouns.This will change as their journey progresses and they make their preference known.

Tags: gender discussion

“Please, feel free to stay for a spot of tea,” Emmrich said, gesturing toward the chair opposite him. “Manfred has been experimenting with infusions. I’m sure he could add some ginger—I recall you’re rather fond of it.”

Manfred paused his dusting, turning to hiss enthusiastically.

Emmrich allowed himself a small smile, though he knew better than to expect immediate warmth from Taash. The gesture, however modest, was meant to ease the wariness she held for him. Time spent in conversation, he hoped, might convince her that her mistrust was misplaced. Yet, her continued guardedness was beginning to sting. He hadn’t seen her smile - not once - and it was becoming more and more difficult not to take it personally.

Taash remained where she stood, her boots rooted firmly to the wooden floorboards. She didn’t move forward, but neither did she retreat.

With an inward sigh, Emmrich decided to treat her as he would one of the Necropolis’ elusive cats: patient, unobtrusive, and willing to let her make the first move.

“You call him a ‘he.’”

“I’m sorry?” Emmrich asked, glancing up from his book.

Taash’s gaze hadn’t wavered. Her eyes remained locked on Manfred, her brow furrowed as if puzzling out a riddle she hadn’t yet solved. Emmrich knew she hated riddles.

“Manfred,” she said, her voice slow and deliberate, “You call him ‘he.’ How do you know he’s a ‘he’? Does he have… boy bones?”

“Ah.” Emmrich closed the book softly and returned his quill to its pot. “His bones are from a variety of donors, male and female. Some skeletal components require a match from the same biological sex, but others fit together without regard to such concerns. However,” he said, smiling gently, “just as with us, Manfred’s identity has nothing to do with the bones themselves.”

Taash blinked, her frown easing ever so slightly. “Oh.”

“It’s quite simple, really,” Emmrich continued. “He just let me know.”

“But I thought he could only hiss?”

“He finds his own ways to communicate. Many spirits, especially ones as curious as Manfred, wish to join the living and experience life. When they do, they start as something simple—a facet or idea that represents them—and, with encouragement, develop into more complex beings. For some spirits, I suppose gender becomes part of that identity.”

“Only some spirits?”

“It isn’t universal,” Emmrich explained, leaning back in his chair. “Some spirits feel no need for such distinctions. Gender, after all, is a construct. Perhaps they pick it up from the body they inhabit, the living beings they observe, or simply from something that brings them comfort. It helps them feel closer to what they wish to become.”

He watched as Manfred stopped dusting to offer a soft hiss and wiggle his skeletal fingers at a stray wisp that had floated through the window.

“Spirits,” Emmrich added, watching the exchange with quiet amusement, “aren’t so different from us in many ways.”

Taash’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So you didn’t question it at all?”

“Why would I?” Emmrich replied. “Who am I to argue when someone tells me who they are?”

“Huh.”

Emmrich let the silence linger before clearing his throat. “Now, about that tea? I assure you, Manfred’s steeping technique has improved immensely.”

Taash hesitated, her eyes darting briefly toward the skeletal steward before returning to Emmrich. For the first time, she seemed to seriously consider his offer.

“All right,” she said at last, lowering herself into the chair. “But tell him not to hiss at me. It freaks me out.”

Manfred inclined his skull politely, then shuffled off toward the teapot.

A fleeting smile crossed Taash’s face as she settled into the chair. It was small, but Emmrich caught it all the same.

[acorrespondence]

From "i put this heavy heart in you":

“Hello?” says a voice over the line.

“Shit. You ain’t Raylan,” Boyd says. He steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind him. 

“Ah... no. Look, this line isn’t really for personal calls—“

“Well,” says Boyd, “I happen to have some information as pertains to the two enterprisin individuals busted out of Big Sandy this very night.”

There’s a pause. “All right,” the voice says eventually. It’s a slow drawl, professional enough, though something about it strikes Boyd as bored, maybe even sarcastic. Although he supposes he’d be aggravated himself, having to answer another man’s phone half past four in the morning. “What is your information?”

Boyd looks out at the headlights flashing by, the roads here never quiet, even in the small hours before dawn. “Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens was ten, fifteen minutes out of Parisville on the Mountain Parkway towards Big Sandy as of 9:20 this evenin. However, if you were to contact the prison, I fear you might find that Raylan Givens never made it back to survey the livin quarters of the escapees, as he was intended to do. I believe he encountered a gas station he saw as suspicious—and I have an inkling his suspicions may’ve proved founded.”

“And… how do you know this?” asks the voice slowly. Suspiciously. Boyd supposes it must sound like an awful lot of detail, to someone who hasn’t spent the last three hours turning every facet over in his head like seaglass, holding each one up to the light, waiting for something to shine through.

Boyd sees no cause to lie. He smiles into the mouthpiece, the one that shows every tooth in his head. “Well, Deputy, I was on the phone with him when he happened upon the very service station in question.”

The deputy on the phone makes a skeptical noise. “And you think this has somethin to do with the escaped convicts?”

“I do believe that to be the likely case, yes,” says Boyd. His hand flexes around the phone, a movement only half-conscious. He only notices when the plastic case creaks. “And if it ain’t, then, when you find him, you tell that fucker to answer his goddamn cell phone.”

The deputy snorts. “All right. Thank you for your information. And what is your name and loca—“ 

Ah, the phone call. As we know from later on in this chapter, the guy who answers the phone is Tim (and I do hope I did a good enough job characterizing him that this was clear even before he confirms it in the car on the way to Shirley’s later). He is going to be so bummed when he finds out that Raylan came out to Rachel first, after he laid such nice groundwork for such a confidence, but boy is just too subtle for his own good. Of course, this was a large part of the point of this scene: much of this fic deals with being closeted, how and when to come out, the fact that queer people often have to come out over and over again, and the fact that they can be out in some places or to some people but not others; if coming out should ever be necessary and the ramifications of that decision; etc. So, this is the first instance of anyone having cause to question whether or not Raylan is straight. Since Tim in this fic (and in canon, let’s be honest now) is gay, I gave that honor to him. He’s the one most likely to draw the correct conclusion.

I’m so glad you picked this bit, I was very proud of my Tim voice here; plus, it’s the first instance where we hear Boyd talking to someone he doesn’t live with, so I got to really stretch my vocabulist muscles. I know I’ve talked about it before, though I can’t remember where—possibly DMs with @boydcrowdr?—but based on my extensive rewatching of canon I came to the conclusion that Boyd’s language isn’t quite as elevated with the people he’s closest with, including Raylan. I’ve incorporated this quirk of character into my fic, and so while he always has a big vocabulary and likes to throw some impressive words in at random, I’ve written his everyday dialogue more casually so far. He’s at his most verbose when he’s a) defensive or b) trying to get someone (or a group of someones, as it were) to do something. Here, he’s stressed, at a disadvantage, and trying to convince someone of something, so it was fun to let loose on the eloquence front. The hope is that, upon close inspection, the fic hints at Boyd’s state of mind, as well as his intentions, in accordance with how pedantic he’s being.

I think Boyd’s feelings are pretty clear through the narration, but as for Tim, I think he starts the conversation annoyed and confused, but then gets intrigued, and by the time he hangs up he’s feeling pretty amused and obviously curious, which leads him to go fishing the next day, when he has Raylan as a lone captive audience. Prior to this call, he was stuck in the office doing boring shit in the middle of the night because of this prison break bullshit, his new colleague is out doing all the legwork Tim would much prefer to be doing right now, so this ends up being a pretty interesting event to cut through the boredom. Ultimately, he doesn’t regret picking up Raylan’s desk phone; his night would have felt a lot more pointless and monotonous if he hadn’t. Plus, you know. It’s nice not to be the only one.

So, after California, we now have all the most important players from the Marshals’ office at three different places when it comes to their knowledge of Raylan being queer: Rachel, who he told outright; Tim, who guessed correctly; and Art, who’s still in the dark. This, of course, adds several delicious layers of tension that are very fun to work with. And the one of the three who has the most reasonable argument to claim that he should know is the only guy who doesn’t.

(Ask game here)

[beescake]

are you secretly the CEO of solkat

solkat r the ceos of me. actually

[ell-arts]

Hey. Psst.

Sooo...if all goes well...

And the motivational drive lasts just a little bit longer-

Then ya'll are getting a new PMATGA oneshot fanfic from me.

Either this week or the week after.

Watch this space.

[hoshidensha]

Looptober / Melotober Day 25: Foo + Zodiac

It's the Year of the Rabbit in the Chinese Zodiac, and Foo (opposite of Oof) is our phrase for celebrating a win. So here's Link successfully catching one of the buns from that bunny hunting minigame in Spirit Tracks! Featuring my own (dearly departed) bun Stephane ♡♡♡

[omarwolaeth]

It's such a tiny innocuous thing that really doesn't matter, but I feel like calling duel monsters a children's card game (when it's fundamentally baked into everyday life, and your social existence is judged by what you play and how you play it so very intensely, for everyone in-universe) is an absolute injustice to what it is for that universe of people.

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

so! after all this time, guess who's actually been working on getting some stuff put together for that Guild Wars 2 Mists-based roleplay group I posted about ages ago. it's still a long ways off (life kind of punched me in the face from every direction simultaneously back when I first pitched it) but I do have a moderator application in the works. I'll post that in the main rp tag once it's done.

[valiasims]

Cozy Cabin Collection - Living Room

Hey everyone!

Finally it is done and here! The new part of the Cozy Cabin theme is based around the living room and of course Christmas. My plan was to create a living room full of warmth with a touch of the holiday spirit. This set will match perfectly with the previous ones, for the picture I used the deco cushion from the Entryway set and the candle holder from the Dining room. (Also used the cushion from the Naturali Living Room set.)

I wanted to make a Christmas tree for this collection and I took inspiration from the viral, floating, spiral Christmas tree made by Marco Zamora on Instagram. I loved his idea and I tried to use it as a base for my Sims tree. It comes in 3 heights because it is attached to the ceiling. Although it is not functional as the in-game tree so your sims won't be able to decorate it and place present under it but I managed to add the light interaction to it so it can give your sim the buff and counts as a tradition. (I think it adds to the decorate tradition, if I'm remembering correctly.) This tree was a lot of work and I left it to the very end because it came together really slowly but I think in the end it's not that bad looking as it was in the beginning. (Trust me, it was bad looking just scroll back to that WIP, I know you didn't like it, don't lie! :D)

The other big part of this set is the fireplace which also comes in 3 heights because it's a floor-to-ceiling fireplace. I separated the screen from it so you can use it or not, you decide. (Thanks to a tumblr follower.)

I made 2 versions of the garland, one is perfect for fireplaces the other can go on tables, coffee tables or even on the dining table, I tried it sized down and it looks good as a table decor.

I think that's it! I hope you like this festive living room as much as I do! I loved creating this one. Let me know you thoughts or if you have any problem with something. And thank you everyone for the 8000 followers here, on Patreon! I'm just so thankful you like my work, it keeps me going. Can't believe I started creating cc almost a year ago! I have to come up with some celebration!

The Set Includes

Sectional Sofa (5 different variations)

Fireplace (3 heights)

Floating Spiral Christmas Tree (3 heights)

Coffee Table

Firewood Holder

Fireplace Screen

Garland (2 versions)

Poinsetta Flower

Rug

Throw Blanket

Ceramic Houses Light

-BECOME A MEMBER- Public release on the 16th of January 6PM CST

[fushitoru]

chapter 3: the manor a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n krnfeknfkejrn i was so tired writing this chapter but used it to procrastinate on the reports and papers i have to write for internship/reports (wtf is quantum physics anyways). ty as always to @/sinn-clair for being the best beta reader <33333

Dear readers, 

Apparently, last week, there was an altercation in Lady Itadori’s drawing room involving Lord Gojo, Miss Itadori, and a dog. The dog was the victor. 

Furthermore, If one is to trust the betting books, then Lord Gojo shall be witness to wedding bells before the year is through.

As much as it pains This Author to agree with the betting books (they are written by men, and thus inherently flawed), This Author must concur in the prediction.

Duchess Gojo will soon have her daughter-in-law. But who she will be⸺ah, Gentle Reader, that is still anyone’s guess. 

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman⸺a work I have long heard whispers about but never fully encountered until now. Her words, as bold as they are revolutionary, have struck a chord deep within me. She speaks of the education and independence of women, of our capacity for reason and our right to be regarded as more than mere adornments to the lives of men. Her arguments are so meticulously crafted, so unwavering in their conviction, that they have compelled me to reflect on my own circumstances.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

I cannot help but wonder if there will ever come a time when these two worlds might reconcile⸺the status quo and that of what the book articulates. When women might be both respected and fre

Before you could finish writing in your diary, you suddenly heard frantic footsteps down the hallway, leading closer and closer to your door. Nobara bursts into the room, and you look up at her in confusion and, partially, dread. Nobara wouldn’t be bursting into your room unless there was someone who absolutely couldn’t see what you were doing in your past time.

Before she could catch her breath, she wheezed out, “Your mother.”

You quickly hopped into action with practiced and routine movements. Lunging for the floorboard that had hollow space beneath it, you moved it so you could place the book and your diary underneath and quickly hide evidence of you reading scandalous and radical works.

Just in time, it seemed, as your mother walked into your room to see you on your bed.

She squinted her eyes in suspicion. “What were you doing?”

You averted her gaze. “Nothing, just daydreaming, Mama.”

Usually, she would prod further into the matter, but it seemed as if she was too excited for that. Clapping her hands, she exclaimed, “I have just got an exclusive invitation for you! One that could secure you a very good match.”

You gave her a quizzical look as she walked closer, sitting at the foot of your bed with an expression of barely contained glee. “We shall be visiting the Gojo estate in Kent!”

At the mention of his name, your left eye twitched, though your mother remained oblivious. “Indeed, Mama? As is every other lady in London, I presume.”

“No, no,” she replied, waving your quip away with a dismissive hand. “We are to arrive at the Gojo estate before the house party.”

Your heart sank, dread pooling in your stomach. Oh, no, no, no, no. A sudden pressure gripped your chest, and you found yourself clutching at the bodice of your dress as if to steady your racing heart. “Before the house party, Mama?” Your voice, despite your best efforts, came out higher-pitched than usual, though you tried to maintain a semblance of composure. “Whatever for?”

“To secure an advantage, of course!” she replied with a bright smile, as though the matter were the simplest thing in the world. “The Gojo family has extended a personal invitation for us to stay with them for a few days prior to the event. It is plain to see⸺he is quite taken with you. Even that dreadful Lady Whistledown has noted as much.” She smiled indulgently, reaching out to gently smooth a stray lock of your hair. “It is your natural grace and charm, my dear, that has made you the season’s diamond.”

As your mother continued to speak, the twisting in your stomach began to intensify, morphing from nausea into something sharper, something more akin to anger. You kept nodding, trying to maintain a slightly pained smile, but the thought of spending time at the Gojo manor, in such close quarters with him, became increasingly unbearable. The memories of your recent encounters⸺his biting remarks, his mocking gaze⸺were still fresh in your mind, and the idea that you were being pushed toward an engagement with him made your skin crawl. But you knew better than to express your true feelings to your mother.

“That is… unexpected,” you managed to say, choosing your words carefully. “Are you certain this is a good idea, Mama? Perhaps we might appear too eager and ward off other potential suitors, lest they mistake me as claimed by Gojo?”

“Nonsense!” she replied with a dismissive laugh. “If all goes well, you’ll be announcing your engagement at the house party itself!”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hardly breathe as the full weight of what she was saying sank in. An engagement. To Gojo.

You almost felt faint, but as the initial shock wore off, it was replaced by a simmering anger. How dare he? How dare Gojo make a game of this, toying with you as if your future was nothing more than a sport to him? And how could your mother not see that she was playing right into his hands?

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the anger was bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “But, Mama, what if he does not wish to marry? What if he simply enjoys… toying with people?”

Your mother’s expression softened as she reached out to pat your hand, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. “My dear, you are overthinking this. Men like Lord Gojo may seem playful and insouciant, but they are ultimately driven by duty. A man in his position knows the importance of finding a suitable wife, and you⸺my darling⸺are just the woman for the role. You are intelligent, accomplished, and beautiful. He would be a fool not to see that.”

Each word only fueled the fire of your anger. Duty? Suitable wife? You bit your lip, feeling the weight of her expectations press down on you like a suffocating blanket. But beneath that weight was a growing resolve, a refusal to be treated like a pawn in some grand game of power and prestige. Gojo might enjoy playing with others' lives, but you would not be his plaything.

You gave her a pained smile. “If you say so, Mama…” you replied, the anger now evident in the tightness of your voice.

“Of course, I do!” she declared, rising from the bed with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, we must begin preparations immediately. There is much to be done before we depart.”

As your mother closed the door, you stormed over to the floorboard, whipped open your diary and prepped your quill to furiously write: 

Lord Gojo is a most intolerable wretch. Though his outward appearance might deceive many, there is an endless well of impurities within his character.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

Were Sukuna here, I daresay he would assist me in disposing of the body with great enthusiasm.

While the Gojo dinner table was stocked with the finest of meals⸺that deserving of a wealthy dukedom, of course⸺Satoru found himself eyeing one dish of all⸺the scones.

Observing his mother and father, who were engrossed in deep conversation, he realized he could make the move. As discreetly as he could, he stocked his plate with many of the treats. The cook, bless his soul, knew how to make scones exactly right: soft, yet hard around the edges that have Satoru drooling when he takes a bite in to get a burst of flavor. He discreetly tucked a few sweets into his pocket for tonight’s work session on some Gojo business, thinking himself subtle.

Satoru could continue writing endless love poems in his head towards his chef’s scones, But Lady Gojo, ever watchful, noticed his little scheme. She arched an eyebrow, her tone teasing as she remarked, "Satoru, darling, it astonishes me that you remain so fit with such a fondness for sweets."

Without missing a beat, Gojo flashed his usual charming smile and responded, “Perhaps it is because I am kept on my toes constantly by you, Mother.” His parents shared a laugh at this, clearly amused by his playful banter.

The Gojo dining fell into a comfortable lull once again, sounds of forks and knives scratching against porcelain plates. The silence was better, Satoru believed. Because he knew he was not going to be pleased at what his father had to say to him next, judged based on the thoughtful look he adopted while staring at Gojo. 

“And how fares the season, Satoru? Have you made any progress?”

Satoru wanted to groan so bad, but instead, he straightened in his seat, the smile on his face now simply a facade. “I am confident all will proceed as expected, Father,” he replied, though his tone lacked its usual certainty.

Duke Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing something amiss. “Are you sure about that?” he probed. “You know very well, Satoru, that your inheritance of the title is contingent upon securing a wife and producing an heir. This is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

The weight of his father’s words hung in the air, pressing down on Gojo with the full force of expectation.  Would it be eccentric if I decided to scream to the heavens right now?

Before Gojo could even formulate a response, his mother, ever the one to steer the conversation, interjected with a delighted exclamation. “Oh, it’s all handled, my dear! Did you not hear? The diamond of the season is arriving a week early to our manor in the countryside!”

All thoughts of screaming himself mute vanished as his mother’s words piqued his interest. Now, this was interesting. You? Spending time with him, under his roof, with no escape? The idea alone was enough to spark a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Satoru almost started cackling maniacally at the thought of pestering you until you broke that oh-so-perfect and uptight demeanor of yours, until you were reduced to exactly what you were: an unruly and highly emotional know-it-all.

One could say Satoru was very bitter about the losses he had bore for that horse race.

As a self-assured smirk started to creep up Satoru’s face, Duke Gojo blinked, surprised by the news. “A week early? That’s quite unusual,” he remarked, turning his gaze back to his son.

Satoru offered a sweet smile. “Yes, unusual indeed.” He knew his parents were well aware of the marital implications of such an arrangement, and he could feel their eyes on him, gauging his reaction.

But Duchess Gojo, satisfied with her announcement, continued with a gleeful smile. “I daresay, it’s all coming together perfectly. Even matchmakers could not have planned it better.”

Indeed, Mother! The prospect grew more delightful with each passing second, and the corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin. You were in for quite the week, and he would relish every moment of ruining your composure.

Yuji leaned in closer, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied your face. “Sister, did you perhaps neglect the chamber pot today?” he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “Your expression is quite telling.”

 The carriage, though spacious, felt suffocating with the tension hanging in the air. Your mother sat by the window, her eyes sparkling with what could only be described as gleeful scheming regarding your imminent week at the Gojo manor. You, on the other hand, simmered with barely contained fury, with a pinch of nausea, your thoughts consumed with how you would confront Gojo at the ball you were all headed to. Yuji’s scrutiny only added to your irritation, his amused yet concerned face a stark contrast to your stormy mood. Across from you, Choso couldn’t suppress a snicker at Yuji’s comment, clearly enjoying the exchange.

You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “Yuji, if you do not cease your incessant prying, I shall see to it that you regret ever opening your mouth!”

Yuji flinched, visibly startled by your outburst. His confidence wavered as he stammered, “I⸺I meant no harm, sister.” He quickly extended his elbow to you, his movements almost robotic in their sudden politeness. “Please, allow me to escort you inside.”

You ignored the offer, your focus already elsewhere. The moment the carriage came to a stop, you heaved yourself off, stepping into the entrance. Grand revelry was before you; many suitors and young ladies were present, necks glittering with diamonds and hands adorned with gloves. Roving your gaze around, you saw him.

The world around you seemed to blur as your gaze locked onto Gojo, everything else fading into the background. A sleazy and handsome grin on his face, definitely talking about some useless nonsense. 

Like a bull seeing red, you marched forward with determined fury, your sights set solely on him. He stood there, the picture of nonchalance, completely unaware of the storm heading his way. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your anger propelling you forward with each step. Yuji and Choso exchanged confused glances as they lingered by the entrance, unsure of what had just transpired.

As you closed the distance, Gojo finally noticed you, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But there was no time for his usual banter; you were ready to confront him head-on, no matter the consequences.

“What have you done?” you roared, striding towards Gojo. His head turned slowly, an amused and condescending smile creeping across his face. “I know this is⸺”

“Miss Itadori,” a voice hissed, dripping with offense. You turned to see Miss Yuki glaring at you. “Lord Gojo and I were in the midst of a very private conversation.”

You blinked, realizing that in your anger, you had entirely overlooked Miss Yuki’s presence. Though inwardly rolling your eyes, you knew it was best to maintain decorum. You curtsied in apology. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Yuki. I shall leave you both to continue your conversation.”

As you stepped back, giving them respectable space, Miss Yuki side-eyed you with a sharp “hmph!” before turning back to Gojo with a flirtatious smile.

“So, my lord,” Yuki began, her tone coy, “what type of woman would be to your liking?”

Gojo scratched his chin, feigning deep thought as he prepared his response. “Well, Miss Yuki, I would imagine she must be intelligent, accomplished, and⸺” He paused dramatically, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a slow, deliberate drawl, “⸺and beautiful.”

You suppressed a sigh. Does he never tire of that tiresome gesture? It’s grown exceedingly dull.

Yuki’s pleased grin widened. “And what level of intellect do you find satisfactory, my lord?”

“Well,” Gojo mused, “I would prefer a lady well-versed in calculations. I often find myself making errors in my ledgers late at night, and a wife who could assist would be most valuable. Moreover, I would enjoy engaging in debates on scientific matters.”

Is he seeking a wife or an accountant?

The unusual nature of his request clearly left Yuki taken aback. She blinked, her smile tightening. “Indeed, Lord Gojo, these are rather...uncommon expectations for a wife.” Yuki then hesitated, glancing around as though searching for an escape. “Well, my lord, as intriguing as this conversation has been, I fear I must take my leave. My mother has been awaiting my return, and I would not wish to keep her waiting.”

She curtsied with a strained smile, clearly eager to extricate herself from the awkward situation Gojo’s peculiar standards had created. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly turned and made her exit, leaving you alone to confront Gojo, who now had an amused look on his face, as if he had purposefully answered that way to ward Miss Yuki off.

You pointed your finger at him, wagging it accusingly as you hissed, “Gojo, I know this was one of your ploys.”

He let out an exaggerated groan, and he dropped all flirtatious pretenses he had adopted when conversing with the other lady. “Ah, yes. Please, by all means, heap more blame upon me for things entirely beyond my control. I derive immense pleasure from being the target of your needless and misdirected fury.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

With a strained smile, he sighed. “It seems our mothers have taken it upon themselves to orchestrate this entire charade.”

Your hands flew up in exasperation. “I cannot believe this! I would sooner perish than marry you, and heaven help me if I were ever to bear your children!”

“Spare me the theatrics,” Gojo replied, shaking his head as if amused by your outburst. He inclined his head slightly, gesturing toward something in the distance. “We are being observed.”

You followed his gaze and saw, across the dance floor, both of your mothers trying—albeit poorly—to appear inconspicuous as they exchanged furtive glances and whispered behind their fans.

You huffed in frustration, turning back to Gojo. “This is absurd.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. “But would it be so terrible to bear my children?” he murmured, his tone teasing yet somehow serious.

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you refused to let it show. You straightened your posture, meeting his gaze with as much poise as you could muster. “I can’t think of far worse fates, my lord,” you replied, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words.

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly undeterred. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch fleeting but enough to send a shiver down your spine.. You felt a slight tremor of awareness course through you, and despite your best efforts, a hint of warmth crept into your cheeks.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low murmur. “You seem flustered, Miss Itadori,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “I must admit, the idea of a future with you is… intriguing.”

Flustered and at a loss of witty remarks, you stammered, struggling to find your voice. “I⸺I hardly think that⸺”

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. He gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His eyes had this sultry expression to them, one that you didn’t need to ponder more than one second to know had no good intentions. 

With that, he released your hand, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding and your cheeks aflame.

Gojo ⸺ 1, You ⸺ 1. 

Choso crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Mother, why are we departing a week earlier than the rest of the ton?”

The carriage rocked gently, the luggage rattling with the motion. You slumped in your seat, weary from the long hours of travel, your thoughts drifting to the comfort of a soft, fluffy bed. Your mother, noticing the beads of sweat forming on your brow, handed you a handkerchief before turning to respond to Choso. “Well, my dear, your sister has caught the eye of Lord Gojo, and his mother has personally invited us to arrive early so that we may become better acquainted.”

Your eldest brother frowned, while Yuji stared vacantly out the carriage window, enraptured by the sheep present on the farm you were passing. “But why should we do so?” Choso pressed, his tone firm. “It is not as though Sister is lacking in suitors. Why should we entertain Lord Gojo’s interest above all others?”

Even in your heat-induced lightheadedness, your attention was drawn to Choso’s defense of you. A flicker of hope ignited in your chest; as the viscount, Choso held considerable authority over your mother, and he could potentially influence the matrimonial decisions made on your behalf.

“Lord Gojo is the most eligible bachelor of the season,” your mother insisted. “We would be foolish not to seize such an opportunity.”

Choso retorted quickly, “And Sister is the most eligible lady of the season. She is the diamond. If Lord Gojo’s eligibility rests on his title, would we not do better to pursue a match with Duke Nanami?”

You silently cheered Choso on, hoping he might sway your mother’s mind away from the ridiculous notion of a match between you and Gojo.

But your mother was not easily deterred. “I am quite set on Lord Gojo, Choso,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Your sister seems to have formed a rapport with him, and this is about more than just titles. We must also consider her inclinations.”

Both your mother and Choso turned their expectant gazes upon you, awaiting your response. Flustered and unwilling to directly oppose your mother, you swallowed nervously and nodded. “Whatever you think best, Mother.”

The remainder of the ride was marked by the satisfied smile on Lady Itadori’s face and the glowers⸺yet paired with concerned glances⸺from Choso.

The slowing of the carriage and its turn onto a smooth pathway roused you from the gentle lull of travel. You blinked your eyes open and glanced outside. A magnificent flower bed greeted you, a sea of blues ranging from the palest sky hues to deep indigo. But what truly stole your breath was the manor itself⸺more a castle than a mere country home. Its grandiose structure rivaled Buckingham Palace in regality, with elegant blue spires and stately beige stone walls that seemed to stretch towards the heavens.

The carriage came to a complete halt at the base of a grand staircase, where Duchess Gojo stood waiting, surrounded by footmen and maids all dressed in coordinated baby blue livery. As the carriage door was opened, you, your mother, Choso, and Yuji stepped out into the warm afternoon air.

“Lady Itadori!” Duchess Gojo descended the stairs gracefully, her arms extended in greeting. Your mother met her with an equally warm embrace.

“Your Grace,” your mother replied fondly, her face lighting up with familiarity. The duchess then turned her gaze towards you, her smile gracious and welcoming.

“And this must be our diamond,” Duchess Gojo said warmly, her eyes twinkling.

You offered her a polite smile and curtsied. “Miss Itadori, Your Grace. I am deeply honored by your hospitality.”

She waved off your formality with a flick of her hand. “The pleasure is entirely ours, my dear. We are delighted to have you with us, and I do hope that you and my son will find ample time to get better acquainted before the house party.”

You returned her smile, though unease stirred within you. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Choso and Yuji introduced themselves with the same practiced politeness, and after the formalities were concluded, the duchess clapped her hands together. “Come now, let us take tea. You must be quite fatigued from your journey. I shall have the staff see to your rooms so you may rest after.” She directed the servants to unload the luggage from the carriages and then motioned for you all to follow her into the manor. “To the drawing room!”

As you crossed the threshold into the manor, you were struck by the sheer opulence surrounding you. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate gold and blue detailing, and the walls were lined with endless portraits of the Gojo family. Your gaze was momentarily drawn to a portrait of Lord Gojo himself. The artist had rendered his eyes in a cold, oceanic blue—quite unlike the electric blue intensity they held in person. The painting failed to capture the vitality, and perhaps the insufferable smugness, that characterized his gaze.

You quickly looked away before anyone could notice your lingering stare, hurrying to catch up with your family as you reached a grand set of double doors. Footmen stood at attention as Duchess Gojo led you into a drawing room, elegantly appointed with plush furnishings and laden with trays of sweets.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the duchess urged, gesturing towards the seating. She and your mother settled at a small table near the door, while you and your siblings gravitated toward the couches in the center of the room, where a tempting array of desserts awaited. As you sat down, maids swiftly arranged teacups and began pouring the tea. Yuji and Choso took seats across from you, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of interest—or lack thereof—in the proceedings.

“So, Miss Itadori,” You looked across the room to look at the duchess, who was leaning further to grab at her teacup and take a sip. “How do you find this season?”

“I find the suitors of this season very pleasing and kind, Your Grace,” you sat up fully, placing the scone you were eating down to fully face the duchess. “It has been a very extravagant season; I hope to continue my search to find a suitable match for myself.” Duchess Gojo nodded. “An admirable pursuit, of course. Is a love match what you are searching for?”

Her question hung in the air, and in that instant, you felt the weight of every gaze in the room fall upon you. The most searing of them all, though, was your mother's. You could feel it like a prickling heat against your skin, a silent reminder of the expectations that had been laid out before you long ago.

A love match. The words echoed in your mind, each syllable twisting into a knot of uncertainty. The very idea of love seemed foreign to you—elusive, abstract, something that belonged in novels rather than in the practical world of arranged marriages and alliances. Love was not what you had been taught to seek. No, your upbringing had been grounded in duty, decorum, and the quiet understanding that marriage was a contract, a union of convenience rather than passion.

But how could you say that aloud? How could you tell the duchess—tell anyone—that your dreams did not include the fiery passion of a love match, but rather the comfort of a peaceful arrangement? Your throat tightened, and the words that had once seemed so simple lodged themselves in the back of your mouth, refusing to emerge.

Your mother’s eyes bore into you, filled with unspoken expectations. You knew what she wanted to hear: that you were pursuing love, that you were open to it, that you were the ideal picture of a hopeful young lady seeking her romantic equal. But that wasn’t your truth. Your truth was more complicated, filled with desires for stability, understanding, and a life unburdened by the chaos that love so often seemed to bring.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the beat almost deafening in the sudden silence of the room. What were you supposed to say? How could you balance the delicate line between honesty and propriety?

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it nearly impossible to find your voice. The tension swirled within you, an unrelenting force that made you wish you could simply disappear. What if they could see through you? What if, with one wrong word, they uncovered the truth of what you really wanted—a marriage that was practical, peaceful, and devoid of the complications that came with love?

But that wasn’t something you could admit. Not here. Not now.

You forced a polite smile, hoping it hid the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before the weight of the room could settle further, the heavy double doors swung open with a soft yet deliberate creak. Every head turned in unison, and the air seemed to shift as your savior, Satoru Gojo made his entrance.

His attire was impeccable—a finely tailored waistcoat of deep blue, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light just so, paired with polished boots that gleamed as if they had never touched the ground. Yet, despite the formal attire, there was an air of disarming casualness about him, a kind of effortless elegance that made the room's grandeur seem almost insignificant by comparison.

His damp hair, still tousled from what must have been a recent bath, added an edge to his otherwise polished appearance. Droplets of water shimmered at the tips of his white locks, catching the light as he ran a hand through them. The scent of his cologne, rich and intoxicating, seemed to announce his arrival to you even before he spoke.

He strolled in with an air of ease. “It seems that our guests are finally here!” He moved with an easy grace, crossing the room in a few long strides, bowing slightly to the duchess and your mother before turning his attention to you. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary, a playful glint in his eyes as if he could sense the internal battle you had been fighting mere seconds ago.

“Miss Itadori,” he greeted you with a smile that could have melted the iciest of hearts, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

Your mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. “Ah, Satoru! Come, sit with us.” She motioned to the spot next to you with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you and Miss Itadori sit together?”

Choso’s sharp gaze followed him with a hint of suspicion, but he made no objection as Gojo accepted the invitation, seating himself beside you with an infuriatingly confident smile. Yuji and Choso remained on the opposite couch, observing the scene with varying degrees of curiosity and caution.

“Well then,” Gojo began, grabbing an obscene amount of scones to heap on his plate, “I was just at the 

archery range earlier today. Quite the exhilarating sport. I find it sharpens the mind as much as the aim.”

Yuji, ever the admirer of feats of physical skill, leaned forward with interest. “Archery, my lord? That sounds remarkable! I must admit, I’ve always found it to be one of the noblest of pursuits.”

Gojo leaned back into the couch, resting one arm casually behind you on the backrest, his posture the very picture of relaxed confidence. He smiled at Yuji’s enthusiasm and continued, “Archery has long been a favored pastime of mine. It requires precision, patience, and an understanding of balance—qualities I find both necessary and rewarding. I've dedicated many years to perfecting my skill with the bow.”

He paused, allowing a slight, reflective smile to touch his lips. “In fact, just last month, I competed in the annual tournament at Her Majesty’s estate and managed to hit the bullseye in every round. Some of the other competitors remarked that it was almost unnatural, but I assure you, it is merely the result of countless hours spent at the range.”

Yuji’s eyes widened with admiration. “Every round? That’s incredible, Lord Gojo! Your dedication must be unparalleled.”

Gojo shrugged with mock humility, though his eyes glinted with pride. “It’s all in the discipline, really. Once you understand the rhythm of the draw and the release, it becomes second nature. Of course, the challenge is in maintaining that focus while under pressure. But I’ve found that to be the most exhilarating part—especially when the crowd is watching.”

Yuji nodded fervently, clearly enthralled. “I would love to see you in action, my lord! Perhaps you could give me a few pointers one day.”

Gojo chuckled, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before returning to Yuji. “Ah, I’m sure you’d take it quite well, Yuji. Perhaps we could all visit the range together during your stay here.”

 The nonchalant arrogance in his voice, paired with the image of him lording his skill over others, irritated you. You couldn’t resist a small quip, your tone light. “Oh, indeed, Lord Gojo. Your accomplishments are so profound that I fear I might believe you are telling tales. Of course, I wonder with all this focus on archery, do you leave any time for pursuits that require a bit more… finesse?”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they met yours, his gaze sharp with understanding. Yet, rather than take offense, he allowed a playful smirk to curl on his lips, his voice laced with teasing intent. “Ah, Miss Itadori, archery indeed requires finesse, I assure you. But perhaps you’d care to test that claim yourself? I’d be more than happy to provide a demonstration.”

As he leaned in closer, you found yourself all too aware of his presence. The scent of his cologne, a warm and intoxicating blend of vanilla and tobacco, filled the air between you, making it difficult to maintain your composure. His face hovered just near enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

“In fact,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “I’d wager that with a little practice, you might find yourself hitting the mark with more than just words.”

His proximity made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Despite your resolve to remain composed, the effect of his closeness and the quiet intensity in his voice left you momentarily at a loss for words.

Choso, sitting across from you, gave Gojo a sharp look. Meanwhile, Yuji was practically beaming at the prospect of an archery lesson from the lord himself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. “Perhaps,” you replied, your voice more controlled than you expected, though there was still a slight quiver in it. “But I’ve found that words can be just as powerful, if not more so.”

Gojo smirked, his gaze lingering on your face as if savoring the moment. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable, and you could feel the weight of it, pressing against your own resolve. But you wouldn’t allow him to see just how much he affected you—at least, not yet. 

Despite the warmth in your cheeks and the flutter in your chest, you held his gaze, meeting his playful intensity with your own determined calm.

However, your mother’s voice broke through the spell. “Oh, Your Grace, might we have a tour of the manor sometime?”

Duchess Gojo, clearly delighted to show off her home, nodded eagerly. “Of course! There is a pavilion overlooking our garden where we can play pall-mall, and the library is quite extensive.” Your interest piqued at the mention of the library, and you made yourself a mental note to explore where it was.

Then she turned her gaze towards you, her expression growing more conspiratorial. “And as for Miss Itadori, Satoru has promised to give her a personal tour of the grounds tomorrow after she takes rest today.”

You stiffened at the suggestion, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gojo lean in slightly, his mischievous grin widening as he whispered, “I’ll be sure to make it… thorough.”

You couldn’t sleep.

Restless thoughts kept you tossing and turning, denying you any hope of finding solace in slumber. The events of the day had left you drained, and after the conversation in the drawing room, you had collapsed into the plush, inviting bed. Sleep had claimed you almost instantly. But now, in the dark silence of the night, you awoke with a start, your mind refusing to quiet. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t escape the whirlwind of thoughts that stirred within you.

The prospect of the coming days loomed over you, a storm of anxiety brewing. Spending time with Gojo, of all people? Your mother’s insistent push for this potential marriage was unbearable. How could you possibly tell her that you despised the man? The mere thought of being bound to him in matrimony was a nightmare⸺marriage itself was daunting enough, but to an arrogant, loquacious, and insufferably self-assured man like him? It would be nothing short of Hell on earth.

With a frustrated sigh, you rose from bed and rubbed your face, trying to dispel the fog of sleeplessness. Perhaps a visit to the manor’s library⸺the one mentioned during tea⸺would offer some distraction. Grabbing a lantern, you slipped out of your room, treading softly down the stairs and into the main hallway. You moved with the caution of a thief; your mother would surely not approve of your nocturnal wanderings. Her voice echoed in your mind, sharp and reprimanding: “Good things never happen in the dead of night!”

As you opened the library’s grand doors, a soothing fragrance enveloped you⸺the scent of aged paper mingled with a hint of vanilla, a fragrance unique to this room. But what truly took your breath away was the sheer size of the library.

Bookshelves lined the walls, rising two stories high, creating a space that could easily have served as a grand ballroom. Cozy nooks beckoned you to sit, while further exploration revealed tables and armchairs tucked away behind towering shelves. It was a bibliophile’s paradise.

Your eyes roved over the multitude of volumes: ancient ledgers, personal family records, scholarly works on politics, astronomy, and the sciences. Though you did not often indulge in scientific pursuits, you found them fascinating whenever the opportunity arose. One book in particular caught your eye:

Observations on the Planet Venus.

Drawn to the back of the library, you found a large window offering a stunning view of the garden and pavilion, bathed in starlight. You couldn’t resist the allure of the table beside it, where you settled in and began to read.

“The planet Venus is an object that has long engaged my particular attention. A series of observations upon it, which I began in April, 1777, has been continued down to the present time…”

Time slipped away as you became engrossed in the text, the lantern’s light flickering softly as you pored over the meticulous observations and calculations. Your hands were soon stained with ink, evidence of the notes you had been feverishly jotting down on scraps of parchment you had found in a supply cabinet. A good hour or two had passed before you finally leaned back, stretching your tired muscles. You rested your head on your arms, intending to close your eyes for just a moment. Soon, you found that your sleepy brain forced you to reflect and muse upon your life, as a mind often does at three.

What a pity it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of marrying Gojo. If only he were different, you might have lived in this manor, with its perfect library, forever. You could imagine it: waking in the mornings in your fluffy bed, sharing the latest discoveries in astronomy and medicine with your handsome husband…

Truly, what a pity. Your sleep-deprived mind began to conjure an image of this imagined husband—tall, nearly Gojo’s height, with kind eyes and lips that would kiss you gently awake each morning (unlike Gojo’s snark). You envisioned banter over breakfast, late-night rendezvous in the library, and tender embraces in bed…

Before you could delve deeper into your fantasy, the sound of footsteps jolted you back to reality. The tread was deliberate, too similar to your mother’s for comfort, and panic flared within you. Your mind, already muddled with exhaustion, conjured the worst possible scenario—your mother finding you here, in the library where you had no business being at this hour.

Memories of her discovering forbidden books in your childhood flashed before your eyes, and your breath quickened in fear. Rising as quietly as you could, you pressed your hands over your mouth to stifle any sound, creeping toward a bookshelf to hide. But the footsteps drew closer, relentless in their pursuit. You felt like prey, cornered and desperate.

Getting out of your chair as quietly as you could, you squeezed your eyes shut and put both of your hands over your mouth so you didn’t start making audible gasps that would let the person know where you were immediately. Softly⸺but panickedly⸺walking towards a bookshelf, you hid as you traced the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. You tried to walk away from the sound, but it seemed like the person was listening intently for your movements. You couldn’t help but think you were like prey, cornered and desperate.

However, it was all for naught; your heart sank as you realized you had ended up in an alley of bookshelves that were up against the wall, essentially creating a dead end for you. The steps got closer and closer, and you drew yourself closer and closer to the wall. Your eyes was still shut, but you could hear the steps around the corner, coming closer and closer. 

The footsteps were merely a few feet away from you, and in a moment of sheer panic, you blurted out, “I am sorry, Mother⸺”

“Excuse me,” came a voice that was decidedly not your mother’s. Your eyes flew open to find none other than Gojo, his blue eyes alight with offense. “Do I resemble your mother in any way?”

You blinked, struggling to process the sight before you. He was holding a quill, ink, and a stack of notebooks that resembled the ledgers you had seen earlier, along with a plate of scones that looked absurdly sugary.

“I—” you stammered, taking a sharp breath to compose yourself and paused, looking at Gojo⸺who was shooting you a petulant frown⸺take a big bite of his scone. “Your tread was uncannily similar.”

He paused, chewing on a scone with a sulky expression, while you averted your gaze in embarrassment.

When he finished chewing, he cleared his throat. “You must possess rather poor hearing to mistake a man of my stature for a lady.”

You shrugged, still flustered. “Perhaps you have an unusually light step.”

An awkward silence settled between you as Gojo took another loud bite of his scone. You hastened to break it. “It is quite late; I must take my leave. Good night, my lord.”

You bowed your head slightly and moved to leave, but before you could slip past him, he blocked your path, suspicion narrowing his gaze. “What business do you have in the Gojo library at this hour?”

“Nothing of import,” you squeaked.

At the not-very-innocuous tone in your voice, his eyes narrowed further. “Your tone suggests otherwise.” He leaned in, his gaze sweeping over you with exaggerated scrutiny. Noticing the ink stains on your hands, he quipped, “Were you tampering with important records?”

Your heart raced, knowing that he wouldn’t be entirely wrong to suspect you⸺what else would a lady be doing in a library at this hour? It was a no-win situation: confess to reading a book and risk your mother’s wrath, or be accused of something far more serious.

It was best to come clean. “I was merely reading a book,” you confessed. “I can show you precisely where I sat and what I was doing.”

Gojo’s expression softened, but he quickly continued his theatrical suspicion and hmmphed. “Of course. I must be certain that no mischief has been afoot.”

You led him back to the table where you had been reading. He sat across from you, depositing his supplies onto the table with a flourish and leaned back, crossing his arms. Ever the investigator, he watched as you retrieved the book. It bore no resemblance to the Gojo ledgers, which had the telltale blue cover and Gojo insignia, which consisted of six eyes. 

Upon seeing this, he nodded in acknowledgment. “You are exonerated.”

At that, you sighed and clutched your chest. For a moment, you contemplated pleading with Gojo to keep your late library visit secret from your mother but you shot the idea down for two reasons. First, you would never lower yourself to plead with Gojo, and second, Gojo⸺ever the insufferable man⸺would definitely make sure to mention it to your mother and further exacerbate the issue. 

As he began arranging his ink bottles and quills, preparing to work on his ledgers, you took a moment to observe him. He was dressed in casual attire, loose-fitting trousers and a white shirt with several buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. Slut.

It took you a moment to realize that he was settling in at your table. You frowned. “I beg your pardon, but this is my spot.”

Gojo looked up from his work, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “My dear, this is my library. Thus, it is my spot.”

You opened your mouth to retort, then closed it in frustration. He was right, after all. The entire manor was his. Your silence seemed to amuse him, as he returned to his ledgers with a smug smile.

Now, you didn’t really know what to do⸺should you go back to your room, or should you stay and continue reading the book? In your indecision, you continued to flip through the pages of the book, particularly because you wanted to finish the conclusion section before going to bed. But you soon felt his gaze upon you, the sound of his quill slowing down.

You didn’t look up. “Might I suggest you cease staring at me? It is quite improper.” “What? Why would I do so? To watch you peruse a tedious romance novel?”

“This is a book on the state of the art of astronomy.” 

“Indeed? I confess, I am surprised.”

Your irritation flared and you whipped your head up to glare at Gojo. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I was under the impression that young ladies’ interests lie solely in matters of the heart.”

“So, in addition to gossiping, you are also prone to narrow-minded assumptions?”

Gojo scoffed. “Narrow-minded? It is a simple observation. Both men and women often indulge in fanciful notions of love.”

You scoffed. “Ah, so you hold yourself above other men. What are you, God?”

Gojo ignored your remark. “Those who read such frivolities are seldom engaged in serious thought or the appreciation of true art.”

“Romance allows one to experience love and joy. Does the prospect of happiness through art truly horrify you?” You stood, glaring at him. “Unlike you, my lord, ladies such as myself cannot frequent dubious establishments such as brothels to seek out lovers. Our reputations and futures are at stake.” Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. “To deny women the solace of love is cruel. It is our only refuge in a world that forces us into unwanted marriages!”

When you were done ranting to Gojo, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. Truly, this man could bother you like no other; only your siblings have caused this much heat on your face due to anger. The only sounds in the library was your rushed breathing, from anger.

Gojo scoffed. “You truly think too much.”

You offered a sharp scoff. "And you, far too little. Even Sukuna Jr. possesses more emotional intelligence than you."

"Do not compare me to that wretched creature," Gojo retorted.

You gasped in disbelief. "How dare you speak of Kuna in such a manner!"

"Then perhaps you should keep him from fouling the air around me!" he snapped.

A sly smile crept across your lips. "He merely knows whom to guard me against."

At reference of That Night, Gojo sighs exhaustedly. “Do you find trouble with the judgments I made that night? None of that was meant for you.”

“Are you quite serious?” You were in disbelief. Does he truly feel no remorse? Frustrated, you ran a hand over your face. “Your words may not have been intended for me, but they were no less cutting. I cannot abide such arrogance, my lord.”

Gojo leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of indifference. “Arrogance or simply honesty? I merely spoke the truth as I see it.”

“Your so-called truth is nothing more than disdain wrapped in wit,” you snapped, feeling your temper rise again. “You speak as though your opinions are infallible, as if you alone have the right to pass judgment on others.”

“I only say what others are too afraid to voice,” he retorted, his tone cool. “If that makes me arrogant, then so be it. But I will not apologize for it.”

“Of course not,” you said bitterly. “An apology would require some measure of humility, and that is something you clearly lack.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his voice growing more clipped. “I fail to see why my opinions should trouble you so much. Perhaps you are simply too sensitive.”

Your anger flared at his dismissive tone. “Or perhaps you are too blind to see the harm your words cause. You claim to be honest, but what you truly are is cruel.”

“Cruel?” Gojo’s voice was sharp now, his composure slipping. “For speaking the truth? For refusing to coddle those who cannot handle it?”

“For refusing to consider the feelings of others!” you countered, your voice rising in frustration. “Not everything is a game or a joke, my lord. Your words have consequences, whether you acknowledge them or not.”

A tense silence fell between you, each of you locked in a stubborn glare, neither willing to yield. Finally, you shook your head, the weight of your frustration pressing down on you. “I cannot do this,” you muttered, turning away. “You are utterly impossible.”

You began to walk away, but Gojo’s voice cut through the silence. “Running away so soon?” There was a hint of something in his tone⸺something almost like disappointment⸺but you dismissed it.

You paused, glancing back at him with a hardened expression. “There is no point in continuing this conversation. You refuse to see reason, and I refuse to waste any more of my time on you.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and left the library, your heart pounding with irritation and anger. As the door closed behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of heaviness in your chest. 

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n gojo the type to hit ur g spot every ti---WHAT WHO SAID THAT?

anyways yes we r getting (sort of) freaky in the next chapter (gojo busts in his pants seeing reader's ankles /j)

gojo when reader thought he was her mama

also tysm for all the asks, and comments, and love you guys have shown me. super motivating that you guys are enjoying the story and propels me to write more <3

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

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[obsessivevoidkitten]

Ghosted

Male Jock Yandere Ghost x Gender Neutral Nerd Ghost Reader

CW: Reader death, ghosts, spirit world, manipulative yandere, stalking, general yandere behavior, consensual sex

Word Count: 801

(Trying to get back into the habit of writing, this is the result, hope you like it! I consider a demented ghost as still being a monster and therefore still teratophilia.)

You had died in college. One moment, you were being your nerdy self, rummaging through your binder, and the next, you were on the ground. You didn't really remember much, all very fuzzy. Was it a stroke? A brain aneurysm? You had no idea.

Once you were brain dead, though, you stepped from your body and appeared on the ghostly plane. A fog filled realm that somewhat mirrored the world of the living. Though spirits could make alterations, there were spaces untouched by the activities of the still living. 

There were a lot of ghosts. Many of them wandered aimlessly or were stuck in a loop of denial, acting out behaviors as if they were still alive. Others lashed aggressively, unable to regain their grip on their sanity. 

You mostly kept to yourself. Like Jonesy taught you. He was a former jock about your age when he died in the late 80s. He still wore his letterman jacket. You weren't limited to the clothes you died in, but you figured it was a symbol of how he was still attached to his old life.

Jonesy had taught you a lot of things. He had pretty much been your mentor since you had died. He was there waiting when you passed. He said he had sensed someone might die as he was wandering the halls of the college, where he had also died years ago. 

Jonesy said he was stuck in a loop. Being alone had made him lose his mental stability. But when he sensed you were about to die, it snapped him out of it. He said you saved him, so he wanted to get to know you and help you navigate the land of the dead. 

Plus, being together would help prevent the two of you from getting mentally frail. 

It was a bit of a paradox. Jonesy taught you to avoid most spirits, but communication and relationships were essential to staying sane. 

"You just have to know the right types to befriend. Many of the people here have a darkness in them and can drag you down if you're not careful."

He also told you the other secret to remaining stable. 

"You have to keep busy, do stuff. Don't get too bored."

There was a surprising amount you could do as a ghost. You could go to stores and yoink whatever you wanted, eat whatever you wanted, play video games, there was even a ghost version of the internet! 

Getting infinite free popcorn at the movies was your favorite thing. Jonesy always did that lame pretend yawn thing that ended with his arm wrapped around you. It was nice, though. Made you feel safe. You had been touch starved in life.

The transition to him being your boyfriend was so seemless and natural that you barely noticed that it had happened. You had never stopped any of his advances. Cuddling you, holding you, and smooching your cheek.

You didn't even question it when chaste kisses led to him kissing you hungrily before carefully taking off your clothing, like he was removing the wrapping from something delicate. 

Soon you found yourself laying ass up on his bed with him pounding into you, drinking in all your lusty moans and unabashed calling of his name.

He gripped your hips firmly as he came deeply into you; the pleasure made you see stars. His girthy cock stretched you wonderfully. You felt so lucky and special that this jock spirit had taken an interest in you, a lowly nerd.

Jonesy felt lucky too. He hadn't been in a loop. For a year before your death, he had been haunting you, It was difficult to peek into the living world, but once he found you, he was addicted. 

He loved watching you read books, study, and watch anime. He especially loved watching you shower, fervently jerking hinself off as he did so. 

It wasn't enough though. He needed to have you with him! You had been so perfect for him. You were kindred souls in a way. You were always alone and starved for attention. You'd fall for his affections easily, and you wouldn't just crossover beyond the purgatory the two of you were now in, you were too depressed for that.

Influencing people who were still alive was nearly impossible, but decades of being alone had made Jonesy angry and bitter. He used those emotions as fuel and tried many times to trip you down the stairs or get you to stroll into traffic absentmindedly. Finally, the jock was successful in busting something in your head.

At long last, you were with him. As he held you tightly, after making love several more times, he knew he'd be able to keep you there forever and he'd never have to be alone again. 

[itneverendshere]

hiiii, i just read the school spirit fic with rafe AND ITS THE BEST FUCKING THING. i need a part 2 desperately please, i need rafe to play the best game he is ever played and everyone it’s like wtf but like omg. AND THE LAST GOL HE LIKE DEDICATES IT TO READER POINTING TO THE BLEACHERS. and then reader just goes with it and they fuck… please i need it

you ask and you shall receive! hope you enjoy <33

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part ii

warnings: smut! paring: smart!reader x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace; read part i here; part iii word count: 4.7k

you were losing your fucking mind.

what were you thinking? oh, right! you weren’t.

the entire situation felt surreal, but there was no backing down now.

plus, when did some little dick hurt your feelings?

it was a win-win like you said before. if he won, you got laid after months without feeling a human's touch. if he lost, you wouldn't get laid and just walked away. either way, you’re not entirely disappointed with the outcome.

or at least that’s why you’ve been telling yourself.

as you walked to the stadium, your heart pounded in your chest, legs threatning to give out underneath you. yeah, you were a little nervous. but you blamed it on pope for giving you so much shit about the game.

he’d been insistent on you learning the rules, the players’ names, even memorizing their more common plays. it felt like he was trying to coach you into a small version of josé mourinho. 

everyone knew you were not the type to get invested in sports, let alone a college soccer match, but today was different and you were stupid enough to let your best friend convince you to wear a stupid jersey with rafe’s name and number on it.

13.

of course that walking disaster of a man would choose the unlucky number for himself. 

as you entered the stadium, the noise of the crowd was overwhelming. the chants, the cheers, the jeers—had you mentioned this was your first time watching a game? in real life? you knew people took this seriously, but it felt absolutely insane to witness it.

you could see the players warming up on the field, rafe among them.

he looked so different out there, focused and intense, very different to the reckless, unpredictable guy you were used to.

you followed pope like a lost puppy, and quickly found your seats in the stands, right in the middle of a sea of fans. some were dressed in the team's colors, others wore jerseys like yours, proudly displaying their favorite player's name and number. you felt out of place, a fraud among true fans, but there was no turning back now.

“turn that frown upside down, you gonna scare the bitches away.”

you rolled your eyes, “stop calling everyone bitches.”

from the corner of your right eye, you saw pope leaning closer, and without so much of a glance, you could tell he was about to spew out something stupid to piss you off.

“why are you so tense, hmmm? you’re getting laid tonight bro, cheer up!”

your hand instantly lifted to knock some sense into his head, “keep it down!” you hiss in his ear, “jesus.”

he just laughed, entirely unfazed by your irritation. “relaxxx, no one’s paying attention to us,” he said, casually draping an arm over the back of your seat. “they’re all too busy worshipping our soccer gods.”

you couldn’t help but glance around, noting the faces of fans who seemed to live and breathe for this moment. it was a different world, one you never quite understood.

you looked back at the field, your eyes finding rafe again. he was in his element, effortlessly moving through the warm-up drills, every motion proof to his athleticism. for a moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate the view. his jersey clung to his body, emphasizing muscles you hadn’t really paid attention to before…closely.

“hey,” pope nudged you, pulling you out of your reverie. “you’re drooling.”

“shut up,” you muttered, but couldn’t help the slight smile tugging at your lips, “i’m assessing the task.”

“don’t worry. rumor has it he’s big.”

you shot pope a glare, half-amused and half-exasperated. "do you ever shut the fuck up?"

pope just chuckled, shaking his head, “i’m dead serious.”

you were quiet for a minute. eyes drifting along rafe’s body, stopping—

“how big?”

“what?”

“how big.” you muttered under your breath, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to smack your friend for his relentless teasing.

he only sent you a wink, “you’ll find out soon enough sweetcheeks, it’s okay.”

"you’re so annoying," you gritted trough your teeth, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, “so annoying.”

pope just grinned, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "the game’s starting, enjoy the view.”

the game started, and you tried to follow along, remembering pope's endless lectures. but rafe was everywhere, moving with a kind of grace you didn't know he possessed, toned legs carrying effortlessly across the field.

you watched him, transfixed, as he commanded the team, shouting orders and making plays. it was like seeing a different side of him, a side you couldn't reconcile with the rafe who caused so much chaos in the library. it was kinda hot. when he touched the ball, your heart leaped into your throat. you could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that drove him. 

then, it happened.

he dribbled past defenders as if they were mere obstacles in his way and then, he unleashed a powerful strike, the ball soared through the air, a perfect arc that left the goalkeeper rooted to the spot. time seemed to slow down as everyone watched with bated breath. then, the net rippled as the ball slammed into the back, and the stadium exploded.

"and cameron with an explosive start here! just six minutes into the game, and he's already showing us why he's a force to be reckoned with. that was a textbook example of skill and determination, folks! he saw the opportunity, he seized it, and he made it count! our boy is back!”

“holy fuck!” pope all but screamed in your ear as the crowd went wild, “what the hell did you tell him?!”

you turned to him, still sitting, momentarily speechless, as the realization sunk in that maybe, just maybe, your unconventional motivation had really ignited something within rafe. 

"i don't know," you managed to shout back, your voice drowned out by the crowd. but deep down, you knew. maybe it wasn't about the specifics of what you promised but the audacity of your offer that spurred him on.

as the game rolled on, rafe's presence on the field took over. every move he made sparked cheers and chants from the crowd, adding to the electric atmosphere. it was a far cry from your usual indifference to sports, but you couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement of it all.

in every pass, every interception, and every almost-goal, whenever he got the ball, the whole stadium seemed to hold its breath, as did you, waiting to see what he'd do next.

you were a hypocrite.

because he scored, again. 

when you thought, he was done showing off and making you eat your last week’s words up, you saw him turn to the stands after he celebrated the last goal with his teammates and your heart dropped to your ass.

there was no way in hell he was going to find you in that sea of people, right? you were safe. he was scanning the crowd, your section...searching for... you.

"shit," you muttered under your breath, trying to shrink into your seat. 

“yeah, that’s on me. sorry. told him your seat.”

if you weren’t about to puke, you would’ve punched pope in the face, instead you chose to keep your head down, eyes rooted to your beat up adidas, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands.

“he’s coming up.”

you lifted your head, looking at pope incredulously, “he’s what?! pope, don’t fuck with me.”

“i’m sorry it was just too funny,” pope snickered, shaking his head, “he’s not coming, but he’s staring at you with those love-sick puppy eyes.”

you reluctantly glanced down to find him staring directly at you, chest heaving as he brushed a few stubborn strands of sweaty hair away from his forehead.

you almost, key word almost, gasped at you handsome he looked.

then a grin spread slowly across his lips. without breaking eye contact, he subtly raised his hand, a gesture only you could understand.

and it hit you. it was a callback to your shared sign language class in freshman year.

how the fuck did he remember that? you didn’t. not until he did it. 

hi beautiful.

you’d never felt the need to swoon over a man before. now you might. after what feels like an eternity, but were just mere seconds, you gathered your courage and raised your hand, mirroring his sign for a simple "hi" and adding a tentative smile.

it was an easy gesture, but it felt…different. rafe's smile widened in response before he turned to run back into the field.

pope, ever the instigator, nudged you again. "that was smooth.”

the glare returned to your face.

the rest of the game unfolded in a blur. rafe continued to dominate the field, scoring goal after goal with precision and skill that left you in awe. each time he celebrated, you found yourself holding your breath. 

when the final whistle blew and the stadium erupted in celebration, your jaw was nearly on the floor.

had he played like that his entire life? was this the same boy that you threatened to punch in the face if he didn’t get his life together? the team's victory was clear—a resounding 4-0 win.

"remember that name, folks—rafe cameron. he's not just a player; he's a game-changer. and with plays like that, he's proving why he's a standout talent on this field today!"

"well," pope finally managed to say, his voice tinged with disbelief, "looks like you're in for a ride."

you could only nod dumbly as you watched rafe celebrate with his teammates, the bond between them palpable even from a distance.

you swore you even saw him hug jj. 

as the stadium began to empty, you lingered in your seat, watching as rafe disappeared into the locker room with his team to shower. eventually, you gathered your belongings and followed pope out of the stadium.

“you gonna wait for him here?”

“i don’t know,” you groaned, itching to warm your freezing hands, “didn’t plan ahead.”

"so..." pope started again, "what's the plan now? going to find him?"

“i told—“ 

you were about to drill some common sense into pope when you feel something touch your back. not just something. a warm, blazing palm settling at the end of your back.

you froze, your heart racing as the warmth seeped through your jacket.

“cameron, nice game, for once.”

ignoring pope’s teasing, you leaned your head to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. and there he was. looking at you with that same confident tilt on his pretty lips that had both infuriated and intrigued you countless times before.

"hey," rafe said, his voice slightly breathless from the intensity of the game and the excitement still coursing through him.

"hey," you managed to reply, your voice surprisingly steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“oh okay. i get it.”

rafe glanced over at pope with a knowing smirk. "thanks for coming out, man.”

“you’re welcome by the way.”

rafe ignored the comment, eyes remained fixed on you. "glad you could make it," he said, his tone softer now.

“okayyy, i’m leaving. stay safe, byee!”

“pope,” you yelled out as he excused himself, “my doorm keys are in your car.”

“that sounds like a you problem.”

you stared after pope, mouth slightly agape, as he disappeared into the crowd. you'd have to figure that out later. for now, there was rafe, standing so close that the air between you didn’t seem enough. 

"guess we're stuck together,” you said, trying to sound casual, mentally cringing at how stupid it sounded.

rafe only chuckled, the sound low and warm against your skin, "seems like it."

“sooo—“

before you could finish your sentence, his hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

and then he kissed you

it was messy, sensual, and bruising all at once. his lips moved against yours with a hunger that took you by surprise, but you didn't pull away. instead, you matched his intensity, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you kissed him back with just as much need. it felt like you were losing your fucking mind, but you didn't care.

he just felt so good.

his hands roamed up your lower back, pulling you even closer as if trying to merge you into him. his kiss was demanding, with a sense of deep-seated need that you hadn’t anticipated.

your fingers tangled in his hair, wondering if you’d ever get the chance to do this again after tonight. when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you tried to regain your composure. 

his thumb brushed gently over your cheek, “we’re leaving now.”

you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “now?”

“yeah, now.” rafe’s voice was resolute, leaving no room for argument.

he hoisted you up into his arms effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing. oh wow, you liked this.

“what are you doing?” you managed to gasp out, clinging to his shoulders for stability. he was so fucking strong it nearly made you want to eat him whole.

“taking you to bed,” he replied, his voice low, “we’ve got unfinished business.”

the walk to his dorm? you couldn’t remember.

you were acutely aware of the curious stares from other students, but you didn’t care. maybe the day after.

rafe cameron was carrying you on his arms inside his fraternity and when he finally reached his dorm, he kicked the door open with his foot, carrying you inside, before locking it. he set you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist as he stared into your eyes.

there was a fire there, an intensity that made your knees weak.

“that wasn’t fair, y’know."

your brows furrowed in confusion.

“tempting me for weeks.”

“well—i didn’t think—nmph!”

his lips were on yours again, the kiss just as desperate as before. you melted into him, your body pressing against his as you gave in to the sensation of his hands exploring your back, pulling you closer. your fingers fumbled to remove his shirt. he’d showered after the game but you were still wearing his jersey. he helped you, pulling it off in one swift motion, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. you couldn’t help but run your hands over his chest, enjoying at the hard planes of his body.

his hands found the hem of your own jersey, “you’re gonna wear this to every game, you hear me?”

you tilted your head to the side, in mock confusion, “who said i'm going to your games?”

he chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against your skin as his hands worked to pull the jersey over your head.

“oh, baby. you will. you won’t be able to stay away.”

“confident, are we?” you teased, even as your breath hitched at the way his hands roamed over your now-bare skin, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“you’ll see.”

he was kissing you.

again.

more insistent, like he couldn’t get enough of you, and you reveled in the feeling of being wanted so intensely. his hands slid down to your hips, gripping you firmly as he lifted you, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist.

you felt the hard press of him against you, a reminder of just how much he wanted this—wanted you. he carried you over to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness despite the urgency in his movements.

 he hovered over you for a moment, his gaze roaming over your body, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he went along.

you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. “then stop talking and show me.”

that was the only warning rafe needed.

his hands were everywhere—tugging at your shorts, tracing the curves of your body, driving you wild with anticipation. he finally rid you of your remaining clothes, and you couldn’t help but shiver as the cool air hit your heated skin. but it didn’t last long, not with his body pressing against yours, his warmth enveloping you.

you lost yourself in the sensation—the taste of him, the feel of his hands gripping your thighs, the way he pressed into you.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice a breathless whisper against your lips, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt.

“god, yes,” you all but mewled, your hands clutching at his sheets, needing him to just do something, “need you to touch me right now.”

his fingers trailed down your body with deliberate slowness, “tell me how.”

you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone articulate what you needed. your mind was a haze of want and need, every nerve ending screaming for him.

but somehow, you managed to speak, “everywhere.”

a slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, and he dipped his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, drawing a gasp from your lips. his hand moved to your other breast, squeezing and kneading as his mouth worked its magic. 

“like this?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

son of a bitch.

“yeah, oh, just like that,” you breathed, your fingers threading through his blonde hair, holding him close. “don’t stop.”

he didn’t.

his mouth and hands continued their relentless assault on your senses, driving you up the fucking walls. his lips trailed down your stomach, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses that left a trail of fire in their wake.

oh you needed to be fucked all right.

when he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive area. 

“rafe,” you pleaded, your hips lifting off the bed in a silent demand, “don’t be a dick.”

he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “so needy,” he teased, but his voice was filled with reverent awe.

without further warning, he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue delving into your folds with a hunger that made you cry out. he licked and sucked, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devoured you. 

this man ate pussy like the champion that he was and you loved it.

his tongue flicked against your clit with precision, with ease. rafe was relentless, his mouth working you to the brink, then easing off just enough to keep you on edge.

“fuck, rafe,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his face, desperate for more.

he growled in response, the vibration adding another layer of pleasure, and you felt yourself hurtling toward the edge. he must have sensed it, because his pace quickened, his tongue moving in perfect rhythm with the throbbing need building inside you.

your head was spinning as you looked down at him and met his heavy-lidded gaze searing a path straight to your core. you could only grab his bicep for stability, digging your nails into his skin.

and then, with a final, well-placed flick of his tongue, you came apart, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. rafe didn’t stop, didn’t let up, riding you through your climax until you were a boneless, quivering mess beneath him.

you never came so fast in your life. 

when he lifted his head, his lips glistened with your arousal as he crawled back up your body. he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you whimpered into his mouth, the sensation of his weight pressing you into the mattress grounding you as you came down from your high.

“holy shit,” you breathed when he finally pulled back, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. “good job, cameron.”

he grinned, a boyish, cocky smile that somehow made you want him even more. “glad you enjoyed it,” he murmured, his voice a rough, sexy whisper against your lips.

you reached down, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his shorts, desperate to feel him inside you.

“your turn,” you pulled his shorts down enough to free his cock. it sprang free, hard and heavy, and you couldn’t help but wrap your hand around it, stroking slowly.

oh wow.

so big big.

your hand moved around rafe’s cock lazily, feeling its weight and heat in your palm. he hissed through his teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch. you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of him—so strong, so utterly at your mercy.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” rafe muttered, his voice strained with need. he watched your hand with hooded eyes, his hips thrusting slightly in time with your movements.

you felt a surge of power, knowing you had this effect on him.

you grinned up at him, loving the way his breath hitched with every stroke. “don’t like it?”

his laugh was breathless, shaky. “oh, i do. but this—” he broke off with a groan as you squeezed him a little harder, “—this is something else.”

without breaking eye contact, you guided him towards your entrance, positioning him at your slick opening. he paused, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. 

“condom?” 

you nodded, your heart pounding in anticipation. “yeah.”

rafe reached over to the nightstand, fumbling for a moment before retrieving a condom. you watched, heart racing, as he tore open the foil packet with his teeth, the sound sharp and thrilling in the quiet of the room. he rolled it on swiftly, his movements sure and practiced. with the condom in place, he positioned himself between your legs.

he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you until you thought you might break. the sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that made you gasp, you were holding on for dear life as he filled you completely.

“god, you feel so good,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the size of him, his hands cradling your face tenderly. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you managed to say, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “’m good. just—move.”

rafe didn’t need any more encouragement.

he started to thrust, slow and deep, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him to go faster. his pace increased, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more frantic.

“can’t believe— fuck, oh, this is happening.”

“rafe,” you moaned, your voice breaking with every thrust. “just—don’t stop.”

his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. he rubbed it in tight, relentless circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire being. 

“fuck, that’s it,” rafe groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic, his grip on your hip tightening ,“so fucking beautiful.”

his lips found yours in an all-spit kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that matched the relentless pace of his hips. your fingers dug into his shoulders as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

"oh fuck," you gasped, breaking the kiss as the sensations overwhelmed you, “rafe,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his back, “i’m—”

“i know,” he cut you off, his voice strained. “me too.”

you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body on fire. and then you were falling, your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

your climax triggered his own, and seconds later with a few more powerful trusts, he buried himself deep inside you, body shuddering as he came, his moans low and hot in your ear.

you held onto him, feeling the rhythmic pulses of his release, the raw, primal intensity of it making your head spin.

for a moment, neither of you moved, both trying to catch your breath, your bodies still intertwined. then, rafe rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were lying against his chest.

you could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your cheek. you lay there in silence for a while, just enjoying the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest. you felt strangely happy, considering everything that had led to this moment, but you didn’t want to question it.

“so,” his fingers trailed lazily up and down your arm, “does this mean you’re coming to my next game?”

“not sure.”

the sensation of rafe still inside you, combined with the aftermath of your shared orgasm, left you both in a haze of pleasure.

but you weren’t done yet.

there was a need within you that demanded more, a desire to push the boundaries even further.

you slid out from beneath him, leaving him lying on his back. his blue eyes widened slightly as he watched you, curiosity and anticipation written all over his face. you settled yourself between his legs, your hands tracing the defined muscles of his abs before wrapping around his still-hard cock, after you pulled and tied the condom, throwing it into the garbage can in the corner.

“w—what are you doing?” 

you didn’t answer right away.

instead, you focused on stroking him slowly, your hand gliding up and down his length, feeling the pulse of his desire beneath your fingers. rafe groaned, his head falling back against the pillows, his hips lifting slightly in response to your touch.

overstimulation was a bitch. so were you sometimes.

“you won, right?” you replied, your voice sultry. “here’s your prize.”

his breath hitched, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “are you trying—oh fuck. trying to kill me?”

you smirked, increasing the pace of your strokes, your thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the pre-cum that had gathered there. “is that a complaint?”

“not even close,” he managed to say, his voice strained.

you could see the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing, his breaths coming faster. you leaned down, letting your tongue flick over the head of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness of him. he jerked, a guttural groan escaping his lips, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him.

“baby,” he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as you took him deeper into your mouth, your hand still working the base of his shaft, “shit.”

you reveled in the power you had over him, the way his body responded to your every touch, your every movement.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him hard. his hands moved to your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you, but not forcing you.

it only made him hotter.

the sounds he made, the way he writhed beneath you, only spurred you on. you wanted to push him over the edge, to see him come again because of you. you pulled back slightly, your hand pumping him faster, your mouth focusing on the sensitive head, your tongue swirling around it, teasing him mercilessly.

“’m so close,” he gasped, his grip on your hair tightening. “please, don’t stop.”

you had no intention of stopping. 

you increased your pace, your hand and mouth working in perfect harmony, driving him towards his release. you felt his body tensing even more, his breaths coming in ragged pants, and then he was coming, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he spilled himself into you with a hoarse cry.

you swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him, the satisfaction of knowing you had pushed him to this point. when you finally pulled back, rafe was a panting mess, his eyes half-lidded, his body trembling.

“you just made me fall in love with you, again.”

"what?"

[astonmartinii]

day four: rock(ette)ing around the christmas tree

pairing: pierre gasly x fem rockette reader

high kicks this, high kicks that, pierre is ready to kick off because his job is getting in the way of his festive wag duties

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 238,044 others

yourusername: back in the concrete jungle wet dream tomato for another round of rockette duty !!!

view all comments

user1: how does it feel to live my dream

user2: its not fair that 1. she’s a literal rockette 2. looks like that and 3. is with a whole ass f1 driver ???

user3: everyone saying that she’s lucky to be with him but have we considered that he’s massively batting above his league?

user4: real …. i hope their babies have her hairline

pierregasly: HUH???

yukitsunoda0511: i make sure to remind him everyday 🫶🏻

user5: obsessed with yuki’s need to humble pierre all the time

yukitsunoda0511: he bagged a queen and has made it everyone else’s problem since

yourusername: can you blame him?

pierregasly: don’t answer that yuki

charles_leclerc: please please please come back right now this whiny french man won’t shut up

yourusername: … it’s my job

charles_leclerc: well i’d also argue that wrangling this oversized puppy with attachment issues is also your job

yourusername: no it’s my passion! there’s a difference

pierregasly: seeeeeee !!!! i am loved :(

yourusername: you are! but please cool it on the texts, i got so many going through the TSA that they thought i had a vibrator in my carry on 😭

pierregasly: WITHOUT ME?

yourusername: babe can we not read?

pierregasly: oh! lol i was ready to fight the world of battery operated sex toys

estebanocon: you need help

pierregasly: LEAVE ME ALONE

user6: smile guys i think we’re in the original

user7: bro is crashing out

user8: tbf i’d give my left ball to have a chance with y/n

pierregasly: i will castrate you for free if you even think about her!

yourusername: so romantic <3

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 524,087 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: engine failures got me missing my girl :(

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user10: my one dream this christmas is to get a man this in love with me

user11: really waiting for my grapes to kick in

user12: any second now i swear...

yourusername: mine took three years to come true so hang on

pierregasly: as if i wasn't manifesting you

yukitsunoda0511: bro retired but still hasn't caused any damage this year damn

pierregasly: told them to give me the projected damages for the season as a bonus so i could treat my girl

yukitsunoda0511: ... and nothing for the guy who is actually at all of the races ???

pierregasly: that is your job?

yukitsunoda0511: and i just comfort you after the races for the love of the game?

pierregasly: yes?

yukitsunoda0511: well it looks like i'll be looking for a new boyfriend this christmas

yourusername: what the hell, sure

user13: y/n just giving up against yukierre

yourusername: sometimes you gotta just sit back and let them get it out

yourusername: and also i do actually get invited to pierre's house in milan (i do also live there)

yukitsunoda0511: THAT IS A SORE SUBJECT Y/N WHY WOULD YOU GO THERE

yourusername: you're calling my boyfriend your boyfriend in public instagram comments?

yukitsunoda0511: PLEASE STAY IN NEW YORK FOREVER

pierregasly: yuki ???

yourusername: that's not very christmas spirit of you yuki

user14: y/n is thousands of miles away but still pulled into the scraps

pierregasly: i'm glad she loves me and puts up with it

yukitsunoda0511: why are you both being so mean to me today :(

yourusername: it's the christmas presents that keep me around (jokes, OBVIOUSLY)

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511 and 2,109,778 others

tagged: pierregasly, danielricciardo & landonorris

charles_leclerc: i've stolen his phone so he won't see this but @yourusername he's scarily easy to kidnap

view all comments

user15: so we're on kidnap now... i think the season needs to finish now

user16: no we gotta see how far they are taking it

user17: there's no race in qatar because half of the grid have been arrested lol

francocolapinto: please manifest it i need one of their seats

user18: so real

charles_leclerc: i hate to break it to you franco but you're also on the plane

francocolapinto: don't be dumb charles, i know that, i'm just too pretty to go to jail

charles_leclerc: if anyone is too pretty to go to jail on this AIRPLANE IT IS ME NOW PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN PIERRE IS GETTING SUSPICIOUS

user19: FRANCO IS THERE?

user20: are they all there ???

maxverstappen1: when all is done i don't wanna hear from ANY of them that i don't do anything for them

charles_leclerc: sorry good sir but not all of us have a private jet we can use at the drop of a hat

maxverstappen1: oh i know, i will just hold this over all of you (especially pierre) for as long as i can

charles_leclerc: it's pierre's surprise, why would you hold it against him

maxverstappen1: because i can 👌

yourusername: so on a scale of 1 - 10 how worried should i actually be?

maxverstappen1: very.

charles_leclerc: MAX

charles_leclerc: all is under control y/n do not worry

yourusername: i gotta go warm up for my show tonight i better not finish the show to news reports that my boyfriend is dead

charles_leclerc: he will be alive!

yourusername: and well?

charles_leclerc: i don't want to make that guarantee

yourusername: EXCUSE ME?

charles_leclerc: what? my lawyers told me to never make promises i can't 100% deliver on?

yourusername: well consider me worried

user21: they're defo doing what we think they're doing right

oscarpiastri: if you've got more than two brain cells and the ability to read context cues you will know, it's not the craziest surprise ever

charles_leclerc: we're not in a country rn, maritime laws and all that - THINK

user22: .... riiiiiiiiiiiiight

yukitsunoda0511

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 489,205 others

tagged: pierregasly & yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: using this love sick fool as an excuse to visit new york

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user24: they took him to nyc to see y/n !!! that's so cute i can't

user25: are they going to go to y/n's show ???

maxverstappen1: they weren't allowed my jet without the assurance that we were going to that damn show

yourusername: you were very happy to see me as someone who recently publicly told me to stay in nyc forever ...

yukitsuonda0511: obviously i said that so we could come visit you !!!

yukitsunoda0511: it was all a part of the plan

charles_leclerc: ummmm you had no part of the plan

yukitsunoda0511: i clearly seduced pierre into not asking questions

yourusername: you're very close to successfully seducing my foot to your ass

yukitsunoda0511: pierre !!!!!!!!!!!!

pierregasly: i am not helping you here bro

user26: someone get yuki a girlfriend before he gets his ass high kicked out of radio city

yukitsunoda0511: at this point i am just doing it to annoy them

yourusername: whatever you want to tell yourself girlypop

yukitsunoda0511: you're just scared that i'd look better than you in the costumes

yourusername: oh really?

pierregasly: okay girls there's enough pierre to go around

pierregasly: but it is all going to y/n, sorry yuki

yukitsunoda0511: you're scared you'll find things out about yourself

pierregasly: is it time to go home yet y/n ???

user27: fuck george vs max i need y/n vs yuki

user28: instead of crash threats it's just yuki threatening to steal rockette outfits

user29: surely there's someone who can make this happen? @f1 @yourusername

yourusername: noooooooo chance

yukitsunoda0511: cough, cough SCARED

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen and 303,277 others

tagged: pierregasly

yourusername: heard my frenchie missed me <3

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user30: my god they're so cute

user31: i love when a man is so shameless about his love

user32: the matching outfits !!!!!!!

charles_leclerc: thanks charles!

charles_leclerc: you're a great friend

charles_leclerc: you're an amazing person who knows us so well and DOESN'T try and seduce one of us

charles_leclerc: how can we ever repay you

charles_leclerc: oh well, no worries guys i love you

yourusername: nurse he's out again

charles_leclerc: i'm giving you ten seconds before i lose my shit

yourusername: i jest !!! thank you for bringing my lover boy to me charles

pierregasly: thank you charlooooo i guess all my complaining was worth it, i'll make sure to keep it up

charles_leclerc: no no no no no no no No No No NO NO NO NO

user33: charles got major friend points for reuniting them (after like a week away from each other lol) and now will be stuck with pierre complaining full time

alexalbon: and this kids, is why we're not nice to each other

user34: the grid being so done with pierre is so funny

charles_leclerc: the change from him being a slut to a lover boy is too much for my head

pierregasly: can we tell radio city to push back your performances to the second week of december so we don't have to be apart

yourusername: babe i don't think i'm important enough to be making those kind of demands

pierregasly: I THINK YOU'RE IMPORTANT ENOUGH

yourusername: thank you baby but being a rockette is my dream so you'll have to deal with a couple weeks without me

pierregasly: so you don't miss me :(

yourusername: you're on my mind all the time, i love you xx

pierregasly: i love you more xx

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 673,298 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: only two more races until i can become a full time christmas wag xx

view all comments

user37: the grid are so cute 🥰

user38: the way y/n's dressing room was full of flowers omg she's so loved

user39: the videos of them just being flabbergasted by the show, so personal to me

yourusername: thank you all for coming to see the show !! i promise everyone else were a lot less chill about you guys being there than they let off

pierregasly: no thank YOU for being the star you are 🌟

yourusername: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: are qatar and abu dhabi really that important?

pierregasly: unfortunately they are :( (i am also contractually obligated to be there)

yourusername: boooooooooooooo

alpinef1: but we're paying him to buy you christmas presents

yourusername: ... okay i guess

user40: christmas came early with all this grid content

user41: this is what i wanted from drive to survive not the fabricated drama

yukitsunoda0511: although i still think i'd look better in the costumes... i don't think i'd slay the high kicks like you y/n :(

yourusername: i'll take it !

yukitsunoda0511: but you guys will let me come to the milan house in the new year right?

yourusername: you'll have to ask pierre ...

yukitsunoda0511: PIERRE PLEASE

pierregasly: i guess... only if you stop saying you're prettier than my girlfriend. NO ONE IS PRETTIER THAN HER

yourusername: that's crazy coming from the handsomest man in the world

charles_leclerc: let's not get too crazy here y/n

yourusername: look who isn't getting a christmas present this year now ...

charles_leclerc: i mean last year you gave me a "this candle smells like max verstappen" and a max cardboard cutout

maxverstappen1: sounds like a great gift to me ...

pierregasly: well the presents she gets me are great

charles_leclerc: i don't want to know about those presents

user42: even christmas isn't free from them being horn dogs

yourusername: why do you think i learnt to high kick babe ....

charles_leclerc: shut THE FUCK UP

pierregasly: heheheheeh

fin.

note: oh gosh it's been a busy busy busy week. i haven't written for pierre for like a year lol - enjoy!

[vaguely-concerned]

can you even imagine what a fucking horror show the early game is from spite's perspective, though. not only is this funky forcibly severed little slip of the fade having to deal with the reverse cosmic horror of physical reality as perceived by a spirit and being trapped in it against its will -- existentially confused and disoriented and hurting and nothing makes any kind of sense, at the mercy of human cruelty at its most deliberately sadistic. and then the one source of comfort and compassion and some kind of safety and clarity that lucanis surely must have been to him in the ossuary despite everything just goes and shuts himself in his room inside with a seemingly passive aggressive number of locks between them and no explanation and won't speak to him and they're STILL in the fucking ossuary. rook came and found them and they could be free now (rook is here!) and still lucanis keeps them in the ossuary even though he PROMISED he promised they'd get out of there together!!! what the fuck DO you think at that point? like did he trick me that whole time??? he wasn't like zara before, so why is he doing this to me now? why isn't he saying anything? 'he won't move. I can't reach him'. at least in the ossuary they had a deal, a goal, a hope -- each other. at least he wasn't entirely alone, before.

this poor poor poor little spite spirit really was ferried into the real world like 'hey welcome to reality! as your first introduction to it you're first getting horrifically tortured and then getting to vicariously experience one of THE most distressing and harrowing psychological conditions the human brain can cook up for itself (a fully fledged and deeply entrenched freeze response flaring up with catastrophic severity due to an unbroken ongoing and unlikely to let up any time soon chain of Unfortunately... Recent Events). I think spite is being extremely reasonable and patient about the whole thing, when you put it into perspective. I'm not saying let him eat the self-lighting candles or anything, but he's got some extremely valid points along the way lol. spite is not only child-like, the metaphor work going on is a lot more pleasingly flexible and complex than that, but he is also helplessly existentially dependent on lucanis in a way that, if anything, is a heightened version of the way a child (or child part) has to depend on a parent to navigate the world and survive.

tl;dr: we truly don't give enough sympathy to spite for having to live in the head of lucanis dellamorte. a place even lucanis dellamorte would prefer not to be. to be fair to him I think lucanis would be the first person to agree with this lol

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

AS FAST AS YOU CAN

KINKTOBER DAY 24 - OUTDOOR SEX WITH TOMMY SHELBY

Pairing.| Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary.| Your husband likes to play games to keep your marriage exciting. When you oppose against his wants, he thinks a game of predator and prey can soothe your disputes.

Warnings.| Noncon, dubcon, predator and prey, outdoor sex, p in v, rough sex, breeding kink, postnatal depression, implied lactating kink, tommy's a dick lol.

Word count.| 2.7k

Notes.| This may have been my favourite to write, Tommy just screams predator and prey.

It was just another fun game for the happy couple. A way to keep the spark of adrenaline, excitement and desire for each other. To your husband, this was considered intimacy. The casual sex could get repetitive for him, don’t get Tommy wrong, he loved your body, worshiped it at every opportunity he got. But he wanted to feel alive with you, take every opportunity possible to explore new pleasures with you. To keep the sparkle of rigorousness in your marriage. 

Tommy Shelby was a sadist, your hand was forced into marriage and then you were sentenced with baring his children. You loved your two sons, Alastair and Henry, but feared them living cursed lives. You had heard so many malediction tales of the Shelby name. They were still babies, Alstair only turning one a month ago. Many nights you considered packing your bags and running away with your sons, but feared your husband’s wrath if you ever got caught. 

Only eight weeks postnatal, Tommy was pushing you for another, but you were far too resistant this time. The way your expression soured and lips wobbled as you began to express how you needed to wait, your body needed to properly heal from your first pregnancy. Your body was weak, you were ruined by the issues of bearing children. You needed a break after having one child after the other. To what he was quite aggressive over your resistance, he found himself rather content at the situation, an idea sprouting in his mind. 

On this cold, misty day at Arrow House, Tommy thought it was the perfect environment for another intimate activity between you both. It was hunting season, and what better than a game of predator and prey. But in reality, he wanted to torment you in ways you didn’t know were possible. Because no matter the terms and conditions of the game, it was always designed for him to win. 

“It’s a simple game darling, I desire another child, you do not” Tommy spoke confidently as you stood in front of the green field. 

You rubbed your shoulders in the cold gentle wind. It was foggy, the forest almost hidden in the distance. With a congested sniff of your nose, you looked up to your husband who was dressed appropriately for a hunting session, the rifle included. 

“If you can reach the main road through the woods before I catch you, I won’t impregnate you until you’re ready, I promise” Tommy explained, closing the distance between you with a wicked grin on his lips. 

“Then what’s the gun for!” you exclaimed, your body trembling as you watched his hands tighten around the weapon. 

“It’s just a prop my love! It’s hunting season! I’m just getting into the spirit, a predator eager to catch his prey” Tommy snickered, nose running up your neck as he breathed in your scent. 

“Please Tommy! I’m tired…” you begged pathetically, your body slouching as you held onto your husband in hopes of a change of heart. 

With his grin, you knew your words meant nothing. His free hand slipped around your waist, right down to squeeze your ass. You whined, tightening your grip on him as you tried to force your tears back in. 

“Want me to fill you with my seed now then?” Tommy whispered darkly into your ear. 

The thought of being pregnant again weighed you down.  No, you couldn’t be a slave to the torture of pregnancy. The agony and melancholy it had rained over your body was too much to bear again. The sleepless nights had to end. Tommy thought it was best for the maids to stay out of the process. He only wanted you both to be their providers. He did help out here and there, but he often would pass on the duties to you and hold you from behind as you tried to calm your sons. That’s when he was even home, Tommy was business obsessed. Sometimes you’d get hopeful that he was never going to be coming home. Prayed for the news that he got caught in the crossfires, but you always heard the engine of his car roar when you were almost convinced. 

“Okay, okay” you complied, defeated. 

“Good! If you win I’ll do whatever you want tonight, even if that’s sitting in the corner of the room like a naughty boy” Tommy smirked, patting your behind harshly. 

He explained how you’d have a five minute head start and how it was approximately a mile and a half run. Your hope began to shatter at those stats, you had hardly walked that distance straight since your first pregnancy. When was the last time you had even ran?

“A kiss for good luck” Tommy murmured before passionately kissing you. 

As he counted down the seconds, you whimpered heavily, eyes darting around as you felt like a deer caught in headlights. You bolted as fast as you could, quickly heaving, your heart pounding against your ribs as you didn’t notice how tight your throat was closing in. It was cruel, you weren’t dressed appropriately for this, wearing a maroon dress that restricted the movements of your legs and tight shoes that were easily rubbing against your skin. All for his own advantage, as if your physical capabilities weren't already enough. 

It’ll forever be unknown if Tommy stood true to his word, you were too afraid to look back. The adrenaline removed the timer in your head as you quickly disappeared in between the trees. Tommy smirked to himself as he held his rifle to his chest and ran after you. 

Swaying side to side, your body struggled to remain composed. Your core temperature made the forest feel like a furnace. When you fell against the tree, you pant out to attempt to catch your breath. You dared to look back, the bushes and trees remained still as before. The mist clouded the distance, you were still free from him. But his voice tormented you, calling out his name, somehow echoing through every area of the taunting woods.

You wouldn’t be able to outrun him, that much you knew. However, you could trick him, have him chase the finish line rather than yourself. For he never set a mark on the road. You slipped into the nearest ditch of dirt, curling your body up against the curving wall of earth. When you heard his heavy footsteps snap at the twigs and crush the leaves, you clamped your hand over your heaving mouth. 

Tommy called out your name and you could already visualize the sinister smile on his lips. “My love, where do you hide?” Tommy teased, already knowing that you were near. 

His footsteps neared, you were sure he was standing right above you as you squeezed your eyes shut, paralyzed by fear. A ramble in the distance of an animal caught his attention. Tommy flared his nostrils and quickly his footsteps faded. When the woods were filled with silence again, you crawled out of the ditch and continued your journey. 

You were cautious, your eyes darting around from every direction as you often found yourself hunching close to the ground. Tears watered the soil as you struggled to keep your emotions under control. The blisters on your feet had already formed. Your body ached almost as badly as it did during childbirth, you needed to rest. Minutes quickly passed, you thought you were lost. But then, you could see the main road behind the trees. Just over fifty meters away from you. 

“My love! There you are!” Tommy’s voice boomed as he appeared out of thin air in the distance. There was this similar crazed look on his face, which never ended up in your favor as he held onto the rifle firmly. 

You shrieked and bolted for your life, not necessarily desiring the finish line, but only to get as far away as him as possible. Tommy guffawed your name as his brisk steps grew onto your tail. Fearfully, you cried out, your sounds of distress echoed throughout the forest.  

When Tommy lunged for your loose hair, he miscalculated the distance and missed, tripping over a root and crashing onto the dirt ground in the process. You dared to look back, but shamelessly found yourself grinning at his unfortunate tumble. He snarled out the dirt from his mouth, his head shot up as he saw you closing in on the finish line.

You smiled, you were going to win, finally. 

The gunshot made you fall to the ground a mere few meters away from the road. Your hands patted over your body, your blood pumping a mixture of adrenaline and shock. There were no wounds on your body and you dared to look back. 

Striding towards you like a beast, Tommy had a frightening look locked on underneath the specs of dirt. His knuckles were turning white around his rifle as he looked like he was ready to eat you alive. Thoughtlessly, you were scooting back over the dirt ground, heading straight towards the road. 

“Get over here, right now!” Tommy roared, a vein popping out of his forehead. 

“Tommy?” You whimpered, head darting back and forward from the road.

The road was only a meter away from you. Swiftly, Tommy aimed his rifle at you and you froze still. You gulped down the lump in your throat, lip wobbling.  

“Next shot goes through your leg my love” he warned with a grin. 

You whimpered his name once more as he towered over you. The rifle lowered to his side as he tilted his head towards you. As the rifle fell to the ground, Tommy pounced on top of you, pushing you flat onto your back. His nose inhaled your scent as he pressed his lips to your neck, you were frozen underneath him. 

“Mhmmm, I win” Tommy chuckled, his kisses running up to your face. 

Whining out, you shook your head viciously as you squirmed underneath him. “No! No! I was going to win!” You argued, your voice full of hurt.

“Should have walked the distance then!” Tommy cackled, his hands roughly roaming over your dress. 

“You threatened to shoot me! You said it was a prop!” You hissed. 

“I would never do such a thing! Not my fault you fell for it” he said smugly with a roll of the shoulders, his brute hands massaging your swollen breasts. 

A wave of pure anger crashed over you. Before you could even process it, you punched him in the jaw. His hand snapped to the side and he remained still. The redness on his pale skin quickly grew. Within a blink of the eye, Tommy maneuvered you onto your stomach, your acts of resistance always felt like a mouse battling a cat. You yelped out in pain as he twisted your arms behind your back. 

“Please Tommy! I don’t know what I was thinking!” You shrieked, blabbering at the feeling of his heavy bulge poking against your ass. 

“That’s exactly right… You shouldn’t be thinking at all…” Tommy whispered into your ear as he slowly freed his throbbing cock. 

“No-no, please” you squeaked out, close to hyperventilation.  

But it was pointless, Tommy had won yet again and was too eager not to gloat his win. For if a wolf were to catch a deer, would he take it home before devouring it? Your dress was scrunched up and you gasped as the cold air teased your skin. With a swift movement, he shoved his thick member into your entrance. You grumbled out in pain, Tommy shoved your face into the dirt as he pounded himself inside of you. 

“Your mind will go perfectly blank again when you’ve been bred, I miss the way you’d stare blankly out the window” Tommy sighed in satisfaction as your body went limp below him. 

“Tommy please! Another month! Just give me another month!” You cried out, your body trembled on the ground. 

“Darling, it’s easier if we just get it out of the way now…” Tommy moaned quietly as his arm slipped down to your clit.

The way your walls would squeeze his length made you feel sick in times like these. It fueled his beliefs that you enjoyed his sick and twisted games of his. He held up your hips, balls slapped against your sensitive flesh, animalistic grunts left his lips. You mewled out his name. 

“Quiet my little wife, quiet” Tommy ordered, his eyes rolling back. “You stress yourself out too much, let me do everything, let me take care of you” he explained as he leant down to kiss your heated cheek. 

Tommy coached you to keep on squeezing him, just how he liked it as he rutted into you. In return, he hit your sweet spot over and over again. Quickly, your eyes rolled back as you whimpered out in pleasure, back arched and cunt squeezing as tightly as possible. Tommy groaned out, his movement’s suddenly stilling as he shot his seed deep inside of you. Tommy gleefully smiled out, it had felt like an eternity since he came inside of you. 

As you panted out, ears blocked and sight still blurry, you realized Tommy was talking to you. 

“A little baby girl, doesn’t that sound nice?” Tommy asked softly, his cock still buried deep inside of you. 

“A girl” you smiled weakly, mind still dazed from your post orgasm state. 

“Yeah… A girl, she’d be as beautiful as you, eh?” he complimented, his hand rubbed over your lower back as he slipped his size out of your dripping hole. 

“No” you mumbled. 

“No?” 

“I’m not beau-” 

Your body is flipped back over. Tommy glared down at you as he read your pained expression behind the dirt. Quietly, he tutted at you as he shook his head. 

“Fuck, I’m really going to have to fuck these stupid thoughts out of your head, ain’t I?” Tommy cooed as he found his cock twitching in the cold air. 

“Look at me Tommy” you whimpered, eyes swelling up as you looked down at your body. Disgust washed over you, you felt sticky, as if you were covered in grease. 

“I am my love, you’re emotional over nothing, just calm down and feel me okay? My poor wife, you have that sadness don’t you?” Tommy soothed you in a condescending yet comforting tone. You murmured out his name, your arms snaking around his back to pull him closer to you. Gradually, Tommy slipped himself back into your sore walls, you mumbled out but showed no resistance. “Shush… I’ll fix you, just squeeze my cock for now, that’s all you have to think about” Tommy smiled softly, his pace picking up. 

“Tommy, I-I” you moaned, eyes fluttered and lips spread open. 

“Show me how badly you want to be bred”  Tommy grunted out, his nostrils flared and hips pistoning in and out of you. Naturally, your walls firmly tightened around his member. Tommy’s body craved yours so badly, it was torture having to wait for you to heal. Many times he wanted to devour you completely. Take your mouth or backside to relive his desire, but he wasn’t cruel like you claimed him to be. “Oh fuck, fuck… Missed your warmth so fucking bad…” Tommy almost whined out as he felt his balls begin to tighten. “Yeah, that’s it…” Tommy moaned, his eyes rolled back as he came inside of you for a second time. 

He collapsed on top of you, his face buried into the crook of your name as he murmured your name. Tommy held you tightly as you silently wept, the realization crashing down on you intensely. Eventually, Tommy slid out his softening dick and slipped himself back into his pants. 

“Tommy it’s cold” you sniffled as he stood up and brushed off his face and clothing. 

Tommy sighed as he helped you up, he brushed the dirt off of yourself and patted your cheek softly. As you rubbed your arms, your shoulders curled in, Tommy slipped off his coat and placed it over your shoulders. 

“There you go my little wife” Tommy smiled and gave you a peck on the lips as he tugged the coat straight. “Come on, the boys must be hungry, I sure am” Tommy grinned, his hands tracing over the outline of your breasts as he licked his lips.

[joeyfranchise]

no one’s ever had me (not like you)

joe burrow x reader

description: after a tough week 5 loss in overtime, joe comes home to you angry and confused. you try to make him feel better and comfort him, letting him know you’ll always be there.

warnings: nothing too bad, but still MDNI. (makes me uncomfy.) lots of angry joe, a bit of fluff, semi-spicy kiss. mostly angst.

word count: 1.8k

note. hi hi! this is my first joe fic/blurb so i hope you guys enjoy it. sorry in advance that lowercase is my aesthetic. i used to get yelled at for it in elementary school. i love you guys. who dey!! (title & plot are lyrics from so high school, i love u mother taylor.)

pacing. you were pacing back and forth in front of the television in joe’s living room, watching the seconds tick down to end regulation time in the game. it took everything in you not to turn it off.

you watched as the minutes, seconds, milliseconds in overtime ticked by, hoping and praying your boyfriend and his team could pull out a win.

you felt your heart lurch as mcpherson went for the field goal and the ball wasn’t in the correct place. wide left. you knew it was over. you continued watching, frozen in place, as baltimore did everything they needed to do to score. they made it to field goal range, kicked, and won the game. your heart was hammering against your chest. your breath was coming out in short puffs.

after valiant efforts from joe and the rest of the team, the bengals once again took a loss at the very end of the game, something that kept happening to them this year. you knew joe would come home upset.

watching the post game interview was going to be something you dreaded today. joe took his seat and began talking to the interviewers, answering their repetitive questions and talking about what needed to be done to fix the team, what could use work next week.

you rested your head in your hands and blew out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “oh, joey…” you whispered, seeing your boyfriend’s clearly upset glare on the screen. you couldn’t wait to see him when he got home, but you were unsure of what his mood would be.

after the interview was done, you turned the television off. ‘i could start some laundry’ you thought, at least that’d keep you busy until joe’s return home.

you made your way to his bedroom, which honestly felt like your room too, and gathered all the clothes that needed to be washed before taking them to the laundry room. you tossed the laundry into the machine and then added in your favorite scent beads and detergent before turning it on and closing the lid.

‘i can tackle dishes next’ you thought, heading for the large kitchen. of course you could’ve loaded them into the dishwasher, but something needed to keep you busy and washing dishes was always strangely cathartic to you.

you popped your earbuds in and started listening to your favorite playlist before tackling the chore. once dishes were complete, you vacuumed, watered a few plants, and made yourself a snack. finally the washer beeped, so you went to switch the clothes over.

as you were switching them, joe arrived home, pulling his sleek black car into the garage before locking it up and heading into the house. listening to your music and keeping yourself busy helped lift your spirits some, which you hoped would aide you when joe finally made it back.

when he didn’t greet you upon entering the house, you knew tonight would be a tough night.

you peeked your head out of the laundry room to check for a clear coast, and it was. tiptoe-ing your way down the hall, you made your way to the kitchen where joe still was, his back facing you.

you cleared your throat softly to get his attention, but he didn’t move. you could see he was scrolling through his phone, you worried he was reading negativity that was being spewed about himself and the team.

“joey?” you called, your voice sounded smaller than you intended.

“what?” he snapped, turning to face you. you flinched at the tone of his voice, taking half a step back. internally he berated himself for scaring you, but his post-game mood was too foul to turn off now.

“i know it’s silly to ask, but are you okay?” you question, looking up at him from across the room.

he ran his hand through his short blonde hair before blowing a snarky chuckle through his nose, scoffing at you.

“am i okay?” he snarked, locking his phone and shoving it in his pocket. “what a great question! you sound like the post-game interviewers!”

the bite in his tone was starting to affect you, but you didn’t want to leave him alone just yet. as much as it hurt, you knew what he needed in this moment was to let this anger out any way possible.

“talk to me about it.” you pleaded, walking toward him and placing a hand on his forearm. he rolled his eyes as a response. “c’mon joey, i know you’re mad but you can—“ you don’t get to finish your sentence before joe groans out in response, a loud “UGH!” before lobbing his water bottle at the wall. you’re shocked it doesn’t bust a hole through.

“what is there to say, hmm? what do you want me to tell you that the world doesn’t already think or know? we aren’t looking like a championship team right now. everything we’re doing is never enough for success, and here i am, 27 years old and being called washed up.” he chides, looking down at you. his voice booms across the room, making you feel only inches tall.

your expression drops, and you turn your gaze toward the wall as tears well up in your eyes. joe takes a small step toward you, his hands flexing at his sides. you can tell he wants to reach out to you, touch you, apologize to you for scaring you.

“i’m sorry.” he says softly, hanging his head. you’ll let him make the first move. he steps toward you again, bringing a hand up to your shoulder, testing the waters. when he sees that you’re still receptive to his touch, despite his atrocious attitude, he moves his hand to the back of your neck before pulling you into him for a hug. you instinctively reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you.

both of you stay like that for a few moments, just holding each other and feeling each other breathe. joe’s face is buried in your neck and your hand is scratching slow soft circles into his hair. you hear him sniffle and you pull away slightly, trying to get a view of his face. he looks up at you with red eyes, tears falling down his cheeks.

“joey, baby,” you comfort him, “it’s going to be okay. you’re going to be okay.” your heart breaks seeing him so upset.

he says nothing, but leads you out of the kitchen and to the living room so you can sit down together. he plops onto the couch and pulls you into his lap, burying his face again.

“i just feel like i’m failing them. i’m doing everything within my power, and it doesn’t seem like enough.” he rasps, muffled into your neck. you say nothing, knowing he needs to get this out. you run your hands down his biceps as a gesture for him to keep going, that you understand.

“the whole world thinks i’m a fluke. they think my play-calling is shit, they think i had one kick-ass college season and that i made it to the nfl and choked. when does it end, you know? we took our team to the superbowl and what happened? we lost. it just feels like i’m stuck in this rut and i can’t get out.”

you sit for a moment, processing what he said. his words hurt you, just as much as you know the thoughts hurt him.

“i hear you joey. i really do. but i have some things i’d like to say, if that’s okay.”

he nods, expectant eyes raking over your face. “i’d love to hear it, baby. please.”

“first of all,” you start, playing up your sass in an attempt to make him laugh, “you aren’t washed up. people who think you are most likely sit on their couches and rot all day long while you’re out here training and conditioning your body for the physicality of your job. i think you’re in your prime.” you pause, squeezing his biceps for emphasis.

“next, you can’t take all the blame. sure, you’re the leader of the team, but it doesn’t all fall on you. it’s very noble of you to do that, but you don’t have to shoulder it. you played your heart out today. you all did. i’m so proud of you.” you move your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“lastly, fuck what the world thinks, joe. you know how good you are. i know how good you are. your parents know, your teammates know. other players in the league know. you’re incredible. you’ve got this, and after all is said and done i will be here. win or lose, i’m here, and i’ve got you.”

his eyes soften as you finish speaking. you don’t get a verbal reply. his hands reach up to cup your face, pulling you into him for a long kiss. his lips are soft against yours and it doesn’t take long before his hands are slipping up the back of your hoodie and rubbing along the exposed skin of your back.

your hands stay on his cheeks, loving the feeling of him being so close to you, his body pressed into yours. “i. love. you. so. much.” you tell him between pecks, feeling him smile into the kiss. one of his hands returns to your face and then tangles into your hair, tilting your head slightly as his tongue drags over your bottom lip.

he slowly slips his tongue into your mouth, gliding it against yours. after a moment, you pull away for air.

“thank you for that,” he smiles, stroking his hands down your arms, “for all of it. i needed that. i love you too. and i’m sorry for scaring you with my temper.”

“it’s okay, mine can be worse.” you jest, poking him in the ribs.

he pulls you down so you’re both laying on the couch before pulling his large cable knit throw blanket over you both. “let’s put it out of our minds, get takeout, and watch a movie.” you suggest, and he smiles in agreement. the two of you get cozy and pick your movie and dinner, remaining snuggled up on the couch as you watch and eat.

“you’re right, you know.” joe finally speaks again, as the movie nears its end.

“i usually am, but enlighten me.” you laugh, slipping your hand under his shirt and resting it on his abdomen.

“you’ve always had me. every turn, every bump in the road. every time i feel like i’ve made the biggest mistake, the biggest failure of my life. you’re there. you talk me through it and you put me in my place. no one’s ever had me like you have. i love you too, by the way.”

a soft smile spreads across your face as you reach up to stroke his hair again. “ditto baby, no one’s ever had me, not like you.”

he leans down and presses another soft, sweet peck to your lips. everything was going to be okay. you always had each other.

tags: @slimshiesty if you wanna be added, or if you have requests pls send me asks or dm’s! 💗

[evermore-fashion]

Did I make a mistake?

As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why. I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner. They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long. Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long. There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹