#The Life of a Farmer Woman

[arunparia]

Bride, 1970

A new bride has come, the palanquin has left.  Those who’ve come late — the old viewers: grim. Brittle-finger mothers measure the skin of the girl. Her ornaments’ weight. Hair. Teeth. The onlookers grow. This new girl’s laugh — Tell me, tell me, ma, will she be tame?

Will she not blind our boy (for how long they themselves could)? But a new girl shall possess new new tricks! Carrying paddy from the paddy fields to the paddy pots, pots to the oven. Oven to the mill. The animals of the flower-bed night bathe  the cattle, feed the cattle, smell of cow urine.

Love. Who calls its obtuse name? The clarinet calls. At the midnight play, Majnun bawls. The girl, too, weeps with him.  Till her man appears. To bring her — to bed. Till the birds cackle, the sun appears. The girl wakes up to sweep  the floor for another ten years.  Now when the cowshed is clean, her daughter goes there to read.

(The poem was first published in the May 2023 issue of Poetry India: https://www.ethosliterary.org/poetry-india/may-2023-issue/poems-by-arun-paria)

[angoragoats]

What’s in the bag you ask?

My kid of course!!!

[hood-ex]

Nothing better than being in a creative space with women where everyone is looking at each other's work like, "Oh my god that looks sooo good!" Everyone's just handing out praises like candy, and it's such a nice vibe.

[rawestrarityfairy]

Rainy rising farmers market

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE

[lifepath25]

[libraford]

Today I was helping run the booth for the local queer non-profit at the farmer's market and a woman told me that she would like a flag, pointing to our little bucket of flags. So I picked up the bucket and I brought it over and asked her which one she'd like.

"Well, tell me about them!"

"Oh! Okay! This one is the inclusion flag- its for everyone, including allies."

"What's this one?"

"That's the bisexual flag: it represents people who are attracted to two or more genders."

"Hmm... what about this one?"

"That's the nonbinary flag: it represents people whose gender isn't strictly 'male or female.'"

"Hmm... what's this purple one?"

"That's the asexual flag: it represents people who may not feel sexual attraction the way that others do."

She put her hand to her chest and got this really curious look on her face. "Tell me more about that!"

"Oh, happy to! So like if you're out with your bestie and someone real fine walks by and she's like 'omg look at him' and you're like 'girl get a grip?' Or like you just don't get what the 'big deal' is about sex or why everyone is so weird about it? But there's also room for like- you don't fall in love with the way someone looks, you're attracted to the person- their sense of humor and their kindness, or there's something about their personality that just makes it click for you? That's asexuality, too!"

And she got real quiet and seemed to think about it for a minute. So I grabbed our little informational sheet about different queer identities and handed her a copy. "If you want to do some research, this is probably a great place to start."

She thanked me and took an ace flag, stuck it in her hair.

Sometimes when you're online all the time, its easy to think that 'everyone knows about (topic), there's no reason to keep talking about it so much.' But while the people on the internet are real people, the internet ISN'T real life. And there are lots of people who do need to know that they do have community!

One of the jokes is that I'm a lot of people's 'patient zero' for discovering that they're queer. This is why.

[moe-broey]

I am...... getting A Little nostalgic for Stardew Valley........ but I know it is SUCH a commitment like if I get back into that shit I'm blacking out for a month. I Cannot Allow It

[byjove]

Women throughout (American and English) history worked. The idea that in the past the sole responsibility of women was domestic labor and childrearing is largely inaccurate for the majority of women in these societies. Women were expected to do domestic labor like cooking and cleaning and raising children AND work to bring income to their family, this was true for the average woman, excluding the upper middle class/wealthy. If a woman’s husband owned a tavern or restaurant, she also cooked and kept bar and did the duties associated with the business. If a woman’s husband was a (small scale/subsistence/tenant) farmer, the woman did farm labor. Often a woman was expected to do labor related to her husband’s job.

Women also had vocations and forms of income unrelated to their husband. The nature of these jobs changed over time but many women did things like weaving, embroidery, crafting, beer brewing, chicken tending and laundress work to bring income. Women with skills were seen as better marriage candidates because they’d make money for their husband.

My great-great-great-great grandmother told fortunes and did farm labor, my great-great-great grandmother was a midwife, my great-great grandmother worked in a textile factory for most of her adult life and my great grandmother was a school lunch lady.

This is why it makes me irate when women on the right say things like “feminism forced me to get a job instead of being allowed to stay home with my children” before feminism you would have had to tend house, raise your children and bring income to your husband. Now, at the very least, the money is hopefully your own. Women were always in the workforce, their work was not recognized.

[thebluester2020]

Blue... Blue.... Alex and the squirting farmer did something.... Can i ask for the other male's reactions to that :3 pwease

SDV Bachelors x Farmer Who Squirts

Summary: How the bachelors react to a farmer who squirts for the first time. Warning(s): S M U T, Sam being a bit of a horndog / perv, Munch Elliot and Sebastion (it's my favorite headcanons of them and I'm dying on that hill), Shane being a bit of a dom, Harvey being a slight sub. Side note(s): I love it when y'all have big-brained ideas 💙

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

Oddly confident?

I imagine he has a diverse collection of books. Erotica is definitely on his bookshelf somewhere so mentions of a girl (or guy) squirting aren't uncommon to him. In his mind? You squirting is a sign that he's doing something good and he would take pride in it.

So follow the vision, the two of you have been dating for a while and you finally work up the nerve to stay over at his cabin for the night just to spend some more time with him, as well as hear the waves at night.

One moment Elliot was reading to you, steadily getting to a particular spicy scene in the novel, and the next?

His head was in between your thighs slurping and sucking at your clit.

♡ - In the silence of Elliot's cabin, lewd squelching and feverous moaning could be heard.

What started as a simple visit. Elliot had sent you a letter that he had received a new book in the mail and wished to read it with you, a simple and impromptu date night that steadily turned more sensual as your lover continued to read.

Mentions of the woman in the novel being touched by her lover...his fingers slowly trailing up her legs until they reached her twitching sex before the man's fingers teased her folds, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as he fingered her to orgasm. You hadn't realized you were panting like a bitch in heat until Elliot teasingly mentioned the redness in your cheeks, questioning if you wanted to recreate the scene.

You couldn't imagine a scenario where you said no.

"Ah~! Elliot, oh fuck..." You moaned, your hands gripping onto Elliot's hair for dear life as he sucked and kissed at your clit, hums of appreciation escaping his glistening lips as his fingers teased your entrance.

Alone, his tongue proved his skill in pleasuring you. The whispered words of his love told to none other than your pussy as if it were capable of talking back to him, but, you oh so desperately wanted him to touch and scratch that itch inside of you. "You're twitching so much my love..." Elliot said, pressing one more kiss to your bud before he kissed up your thigh until he reached your calf.

"Elliot..." You whispered, teary-eyed and begging much to his amusement.

He leaned forward with a smirk, caging you in with his body as his free hand traveled back down to your pussy. "Yes~?" He smirked.

"N-Need you..."

"You already have me dear, what more can I give you."

Your blush only increased as your eyes looked away from his from both embarrassment and to gesture to the hand that was touching you everywhere but where you needed your lover the most. "T-There..."

"Your pussy? Aren't I already doing that?"

You pouted. "N-Need you...inside..." When his brown rose with that slow rising smile of his, your sex-dazed brain quickly remembered its manners as you whispered a shy 'Please' to him. And, without further convincing, Elliot's fingers plunged into your pussy, tearing a moan from the confines of your throat as your hands gripped the pillow behind you.

Elliot pressed sensual kisses all over your face, eventually focusing on nipping the shell of your ear as he felt your sex begin to clamp around your fingers. Your hands eventually left the pillow and moved to wrap around Elliot's neck as your moans suddenly increased in volume and frequency. "E-Elliot!" You keened. "S Something...oh fuck! C-Cumming!"

Without warning, there was a gushing noise, Elliot's attention swiping from your face to your sex before his eyes widened at the sight of a clear liquid spurting from your pussy and your legs shaking ferociously. His mouth fell open at the arousing sight, his cock twitching in its confines at the gorgeous sight before he looked back to you.

Your eyes were unfocused and cloudy, unshed tears brimming the edges of your eyes as your chest heaved up and down.

"My love..." He whispered. "Care to give me such a show again~?"

Sebastion

Flustered (his cock literally gets as hard as a diamond)

I like to believe that Sebastion is a virgin but he isn't stupid.

He knows of people being able to squirt, but he doesn't have experience due to him being a shut-in and never being intimate with anyone. When the two of you started dating though, his mind shifted as y'all got more handsy with one another.

The feeling of you cumming around his cock, the taste of your pussy. It all drove him nuts and eventually awakened something in him that screamed "Can they do more?".

And one night, when his family was out and you and him were getting hot n' heavy in his bedroom. Your body tucked into Sebastion's front as he looked over your shoulder as he fingered your lewd pussy, he got his answer.

♡ - He couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

And by "you", he meant your pussy that was clamping so tightly over his fingers if it feared of letting go of him! Such a lewd sight was a rarity- nay, an impossible scene for him to fathom for a shut-in like himself unless he watched porn or used his imagination. Of course, this was all before he got to know you.

Now? As you whined and moaned so prettily for him, your arms looped around his head in a subconscious way of trying to ground yourself while you practically fucked yourself on his fingers...his cheeks were so red that he felt as if he were on fire, he hadn't the slightest clue how he hadn't cum in his pants yet.

Sebastion pressed a sensual kiss to the corner of your lips. "You're so pretty Y/N...y'know that?" Sebastion whispered before his eyes went back to the scene before him as his fingers steadily grew more and more coated with your slick.

However, it was when a keen escaped your lips that he knew there was something different about the way your pussy twitched around his fingers then. How your hand raced to try and stop his hand and you began to whisper and beg for a break.

"Huh?" He said almost like a confused puppy. "You've never asked for a break before..." Cruelly, the thrusts of his fingers sped up as a smile cracked onto his flustered features at the sound of your moans increasing in volume.

"S-Sebby...!" You whined as your legs started to thrash and your cunt got sloppier, wetness started to coat his hand more and more as Sebastion's eyes were glued to the unfolding scene before him.

Yet before even he had a chance to predict what might happen, his hand was soon coated with the warmth of your gushing juices. His eyes widened in both shock and arousal as your legs shook and seized, the very scene stealing the very breath from his lungs as he struggled to not cum in his pants and save his load for when he was fucking you.

"Yoba..." He whispered as he brought his hand up to his face.

"Sorry..." You whispered, barely even coherent as you tried to will the energy to look at him.

He scoffed as he licked your slick off from his fingers. "Sorry?" He scoffed.

"Don't be~ let's do that again, but on my cock this time."

Sam

Excited (my favorite lil' perv)

I'm going to stick to my own personal theme of Sam being a bit fo a pervert and say that you squirting has been on his mind for a while now, along with the other nasty ideas floating around inside his head.

Some nights, when he's fisting his cock to the thought of you in a sundress or that time when he visited your farm and found you bent over to pick something up. He'd think about the 'What if?' moments of where he's behind you.

Beads of sweat dripping down your skin from the summer heat as he plunged into you repeatedly, his hand coming down to rub circles onto your clit as he got drunk off of your moans and begs for release.

Up until, much to his surprise, he felt a wetness splash onto him and drip down his thighs, your thighs quivering as he had to hold you up to keep you from collapsing.

Poor you, now you had to go at least three more rounds with him!

♡ - A pornographic moan escaped his lips when you squirted for the first time.

As sweat dripped from Sam's forehead as his cock dragged against your warm walls, he couldn't help the delirious moans that left his kiss-swollen lips. Almost as if he were the one who just squirted and not you. "B-Babe?" He said, lazily wiping the sweat from his eyes with the back of his arm before he leaned forward. "Can you do that again...? Fuck...you have to do that again" He begged, needy whines leaving his lisp as his thrusts picked up speed with a fervor more ardent than moments previously.

He couldn't even begin to explain how long he'd been waiting for this moment!

Since the first time he slipped into your pussy all those months ago!

When his imagination finally became reality.

From then on, he felt like a dog in heat. From a brief whiff of your perfume, to those rare-spotted moments where you bended forward in front of him. Your pussy was far too addicting for him to let go so easily, his aching cock always hard and at attention when he was around you as the thoughts of what he wanted to do next, what he wanted to experience next with you plagued his every waking thought!

But...now that he's seen you squirt? All the times he's had sex with you prior seemed to pale in comparison as the memory replayed again and again in his mind.

"S-Sam...!" You gasped. "S-Slow down- Ah!"

He pouted. "I can't..." He whined in your ear. "I just can't, fuuuuckkk, your pussy feels too good." He said, watery blue orbs looking into yours as a dopey grin slowly crawled its way onto his blushing features.

"You'll squirt on my dick again, right Y/N? Oh pleaassee say that you will..." To accentuate his begging, the side of his face dug into the valley between your bouncing breasts as he moaned at the feeling of your pussy clamping down on his dick and the sound of your fucked-dumb pleas of 'More' or 'Go faster' rang in his ears.

"Don't worry Y/N..." Sam chuckled as his grip on your love handles tightened to the point you knew in the back of your head that you'd have some bruises there in the morning, his balls slapping against your sex echoing throughout his room. "I'll make sure that you feel really good."

Harvey

Similar to Sebastion, he's flustered but like way more.

You were taking control for the night and were fucking yourself onto his dick. Yet, the deeper angle pressed into a delicious ache inside of your cunt and caused you to become a little more...greedier than you typically were.

To the point, you were unconsciously overstimulating your poor lover as he was too fucked-dumb to even still you how you were fucking him too good. How, like yourself, were beginning to feel strange as his balls tightened up at his oncoming unexpected release.

But by the time you got off his cock, that last feeling of friction suddenly made him squirt just as, if not more than you had.

He was squirting allllll over his stomach.

♡ - When you squirted on Harvey's dick, your warm wetness splashing against his thighs as you threw your head back to let out a keen of sheer ecstasy. He felt like he was in pure heaven.

Yet as you slowly came down from your high, the aftershocks from your orgasm still washing over you as your pussy clenched and unclenched around Harvey's cock. When your gaze finally settled back onto your lover, you could've sworn you saw hearts start to appear in Harvey's eyes as you steadily began to roll your hips on his still-hard cock.

"Harvey?" You spoke breathily. "You okay?"

He was more than fine.

But, it took a long minute for the doctor to express that as he lazily looked up at you as if you hung the very moon and stars just for him. After all, he was far too focused on how your hips were rubbing against him oh so perfectly. How your sloppy pussy was so warm and so tight even after the countless times that the both of you had been together...so much so that he was slipping further and further into the fogginess that his pleasure-ridden brain provided.

"Harveeyyy~" You said his name like a siren as you caressed his cheek. "Feelin' good?" You purred, giggling when Harvey answered honestly with an eager nod and an 'Uh huh'.

At his honesty, you began to speed up your hip rolls, a choked-up whine just barely escaping Harvey's throat as his grip upon your hips tightened as he ground up into you in search of more friction. Yet, you knew your lover, although he was more vocal than your previous partners. This time? He was a lot more vocal than he typically was (not that you were complaining).

You almost wanted to be concerned.

But the sight of Harvey's eyes starting to roll into the back of his head?

It was far too delectable for you to give up on.

"So cute f' me baby~" You praised as you pressed your hands onto Harvey's chest, your hips falling and rising more rapidly onto your lover as more and more unashamed moans left his lips. "You should be this shameless more often." You giggled.

"I love how shy you are but I think I like this side of you a lot more." You giggled before you quickly snapped back to Harvey's face as his moans and occasional whines began to increase in pitch.

"Oh....shit, Y/N. H-Honey, I feel weird...please don't stop!"

"I think something- Oh fuck, d-don't stop...!"

"Yoba! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

Quickly, you dismounted your lover before finishing him off with your hands, wanting to see the amount of his spend before you were met with the unexpected scene of him squirting. The white liquid sprayed all over his stomach and just underneath his chest as Harvey's screamed to the point you feared he'd wake your animals. Your eyes were as wide as saucers, yet...as your gasping lover struggled to catch his breath.

A part of you begged to see him do it again.

Shane

RIP to your pussy

He's definitely fucking you harder after that little display.

But how he reacts in other ways definitely depends on the location. If you two are having sex at your place? I like to imagine that he'll get really kinky with it and try to make you scream as loud as possible, making sure that everyone within a ten-minute radius of your farmstead knows who made you squirt.

If you're fucking at Marnie's house, however? That'll be the time you find out just how good (and sexy) slow sex with Shane can be.

Ultimately though, when you squirt, Shane is in the business of making sure that you continue the party alllllll night long until he's satisfied or you passed out.

♡ - Ohohoho...he's been waiting for this moment since the second he had access to your tight little cunt.

"Shit farmer...didn't know you could squirt~" Shane groaned as he pressed a hand into the middle of your back, forcing you to arch even more as he drilled his cock further into your sloppy cunt. "How many other secrets are you holdin' out on me, eh?" He continued to interrogate you even though he fully understood you were incapable of answering in a complete sentence, much less uttering a single word aside from the breathless moans that escaped your hoarse mouth.

Yet as the local drunk fucked pussy, his full balls slapping against your cunt as the noises filled your otherwise quiet bedroom.

He couldn't help but remember the fact that he used to be so rude to you before he actually stopped and got to know you.

Suddenly, your face appeared in the forefront of his mind and as he became more drunk off how your walls squeezed his cock, the enveloping warmth began to make his hips stutter as he felt his release close in on him. All he could think about was making you his cute little farmer wife.

The two of you could raise allll the chickens you wanted.

But most importantly? And the most special little bonus that he and only he would get unlike the other people in this town who possibly had a crush on you? He'd have 24/7 access to your squirting little cunt, your moans that shamelessly told him to keep going despite your overstimulation.

He uttered out a guttural 'Fuck' at the idea. "Fuck pretty...we should get married after this, huh?" He smirked. "Ain't no way I'm losing this tight pussy, especially after figuring out what you can do tonight."

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Gladiator

A man can become a god in the arena. But all he fights for is you.

In his own country, he was nothing more than a soldier. But cities always fall to the might of Rome and Yandere! Gladiator learns the hard way that slavery is the reward for defying the Emperor.

Yandere! Gladiator who's thrown into the ring with criminals and slaves, with nothing but a dull sword to protect himself.

Yandere! Gladiator who uses every trick and instinct to win. Who stands covered in blood and sand as the crowds cheer, his chest heaving.

Yandere! Gladiator who must have a lucky star.

Yandere! Gladiator who wins by the skin of his teeth every time. Who goes from fighting criminals to fighting lions to fighting champions.

Yandere! Gladiator whose sword gets sharper with each victory.

Yandere! Gladiator who starts attracting sponsors - rich Patricians who lavish him in gifts.

Yandere! Gladiator who stands still in shock when one of his patrons gifts him a slave of his own - you.

Yandere! Gladiator who isn't sure what to do. Despite what people say, he can't see you as just a piece of property. And when you bow before him, the scars from his own slave collar itch.

Yandere! Gladiator who just nods helplessly when you offer to do things for him. Sharpen his sword. Clean the blood and grit off his armor. Oil and braid his hair before each fight.

Yandere! Gladiator who can only dip his head in thanks, always avoiding your eyes as though he isn't your master.

Yandere! Gladiator who watches you when your back is turned. The shape of your hips, the curve of your shoulder, the delicate skin on the side of your neck... He drinks in every part of you whenever he can.

Yandere! Gladiator whose eyes go sharp and dangerous when the other fighters talk about his "pretty little slave girl."

Yandere! Gladiator who slowly falls in love.

You aren't sweet or innocent or any of the other qualities he's been told to look for in a woman. You're blunt and deadpan, with a jaded view of the world.

But you're always there.

Rubbing his aching muscles after a week of brutal training. Carefully dressing his cuts after every tournament. Bringing him food cooked with all the herbs you know of that grant strength and speed.

Yandere! Gladiator who fights his battles not just to survive, but to return to you.

Yandere! Gladiator who admires your strength more than any opponent he's faced. A slave girl doesn't have an easy life - he shudders to think what other masters have demanded of you.

And despite the collar and the labour and the long nights spent treating him, you never complain.

Yandere! Gladiator who becomes known through Rome for his skill in the arena. Who looks like a child of Mars with his armour and crested helmet, his sword stained scarlet.

Yandere! Gladiator who dreams of you in his arms every night. Who longs to hear your voice even when the crowds scream his name.

Yandere! Gladiator who finally earns enough money to buy you from his patron. Who sits quietly in front of the fire while you comb his hair, staring into the flames and thinking. Eventually he finds the courage to ask.

What would you do with your freedom?

Your hands grow still.

Return home. To my father's farm with it's ancient olive groves.

Yandere! Gladiator who squeezes his eyes shut like you've hurt him.

Of course you would leave. He was a fool to think otherwise. And yet... he couldn't help imagining you staying with him. Willingly.

Yandere! Gladiator who asks around about your home. Sold, he learns. The farmer couldn't pay his debts and his daughter was sold as a slave to his creditors.

Yandere! Gladiator who uses the money he saved to buy your father's farm instead of your freedom.

It's selfish, he knows. If he loved you as you deserved, you would be your own master again.

But he can't let you go.

Yandere! Gladiator who watches the longing flicker across your face when he tells you the news. Who tries to convince himself you'll be happy here, that your collar won't weigh as heavy.

Yandere! Gladiator who kills for a living and doesn't bat an eye.

But whose hands shake when they touch your skin.

[motomamita]

farmer!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, arranged marriage, breeding kink!

könig never thought that the love of his life would take so long to arrive, much less in such a small town where he lived and where everyone knew everyone. but yes, he just turned 30 he found himself totally alone, without a wife, girlfriend or even someone to fuck with without commitments.

being an only child, his parents rushed to find the right woman for him. they had to ensure that their legacy would continue and their lands would be passed down to their future grandchildren.

that's where you come in, also the only daughter of a couple of lumberjacks and with a long list of suitors. although you could choose any boy in the town, your parents quickly paired you with könig, who was the son of the wealthiest family in the place.

you didn't know könig personally but you had seen him from time to time on the streets driving his truck carrying fruits and vegetables to supply the businesses. you knew that he was older than you, not only in age but also in body. he always had a serious face and a look that forced you to lower your head because of how intimidating he was.

your families introduced you one day where they had lunch and talked about how beneficial it would be for both of you to get married. könig didn't contribute much, as he spent all that time looking at your breasts through your dress and biting his lip every time you dared to look into his eyes. neither you nor he spoke to each other.

after that, they organized a small wedding in the garden of könig's family and formalized the union between the two of you. you were now his wife and lived with him in a small house built by könig on his family land. however, the most important thing was missing, an heir.

you both knew that your families would not be calm until they saw you carrying his baby in your womb. that's why you and könig had to get closer to each other, both emotionally and physically. every time he came back from a long day of work, you would wait for him with a jug of fresh orange juice or even a beer. then you would prepare the shower for him, where könig would end up dragging you with him and you would shower together. he caressed your skin with excitement and you did the same but with a certain shyness. however, it never went any further, until now.

one afternoon you were harvesting vegetables from the garden until the presence of könig behind you caught your attention.

"it's time... for us to have a son."

könig was wearing his work shirt with a few buttons open and his blue jeans. he looked agitated, as if he needed you at that moment.

"könig... i, i don't know. i've never done it and i'm a little scared..."

you couldn't finish because könig knelt in front of you and grabbed your hips with his hands.

"please, please, let me fuck you. i can't wait any longer, my love, i need you.."

he begged with some pain in his voice, resting his head on your stomach and almost sobbing. his cock was throbbing inside his jeans and dripping with precum. your heart sank at seeing him so needy, so you accepted.

without wasting time, könig fucked you right there in his garden and on the ground, in a primitive way. your pussy took a while to get used to its size but soon the pain turned into pleasure. könig was on top of you, with your legs over his shoulders and his balls hitting your delicate skin.

"i knew this pussy was worth the wait... fuck, you're so tight."

könig kissed your legs, leaving a trace of his saliva and even lightly biting your skin, lost in pleasure. his grunts accompanied your moans and pleas for him to finish inside you as soon as possible, you were afraid that you would be discovered.

"these juicy tits, they're going to look even better when they're big and dripping with milk... are you going to carry my babies, huh? are you going to be a good mom?"

you nodded your head because your mouth couldn't let out anything but moans. könig increased his thrusts, fucking deep inside you until he filled you with his thick semen.

he gently lay down on top of you, careful not to crush you until his orgasm passed. he carefully pulled out of you, caressing your legs and putting the cum that came out back in with his fingers.

"i have to make sure it catch, mommy."

[d3stinyist1red]

Yandere town?? Live convenience store cashier or mall owner or police officer and paramedics or anything both platonic and romantic like the elders try to get reader married to their children etc

YASSS QUEEN 😛😛😛

Yan town who literally is obsessed with everything you do, like u could be drinking water and they'll praise you for drinking it

Yan town who literally has the biggest fanclub of you, they exchange pictures, and items that used to belong to you

Yan convenience store cashier who literally has the sluttiest clothes in his bag just in case you come in

Yan police officer that gets called everytime you try burning the town down, biting his lip while saying "N/n, your being a very naughty girl!~" He playfully slaps,and runs his fingers up and down on your arm.

Yan medic who is lowkey a baddie, litteraly whenever he hears that you have a cut, he puts on the most lil skirt possible, and literally brings out things that nurses would only use if your on fucking life support, acting as if your gonna die just because of a tiny ass cut

yan platonic elderly woman who begs you to marry her son. Her son was very attractive and rich, waving at you shyly as he thinks about the ways you could stroke and suck him off

Yan business man who tries to get you to be his secretary, begging you on his knees and shit. He literally kisses your feet anytime he is in a 5 mile radius of u

Yan farmer who literally is pushing 20 and acting like a middle school boy who barely hit puberty, humping at your shoe and everything. He gives you free fruits tho! Though, he does try to trade with you. Your panties for the fruits of course!

Yan cowboy who let you ride him and save his horse. He literally tells you to get on his horse with him, your in front of him as he guides the horse, his front leaning against your back. He tries to hide his huge boner, and how he's slowly thrusting it against you.

Yan loser who no one likes💀 if ur the angel of the town, he's the devil. He's a total weirdo, whenever he sees you, his hands immediately go for his pants, trying to patt his dick down. "H-hey, do you wa-wanna help me wit-with mini me?"

Yan platonic unc who tries to get you to go on a blind date with his niece. You finally went, and his niece was down bad for u. His niece wouldn't even eat his food, staring at you the whole time with heart eyes, and giggling at you

Yan old man who lets you be his sugar baby. You don't even do anything, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, and he will give you the money. Very cutesy very demure

[cheyisagirlkisser]

"She Gets the Job Done!"

Cowgirl Ellie x Fem! Reader

Content: Cowgirl Ellie, Fem! country reader, Ellie is western type of cowgirl, reader is southern, badly written accents(guys I am southern but idk how to write a western accent), smut, clit rubbing(r! recieving), scissoring, making out, biting, some implied homophobia, reader is written as a lesbian, modern AU, reader has female anatomy, very loosely based off of Chappell Roan's unreleased song.

Word Count: 2.4k

Resource Credits: Here and Here!

Description: You're a true southern girl who is fed up with these country boys who just can't please you. What you really need is a woman, but that's kind of hard to seek out in a small southern town. When Ellie Williams moves into your town along with Joel Miller, she ends up working at the farm nearby, and you really want her. It's true: only a woman knows how to treat a woman right.

Wow, you really hated living in the south sometimes. You mostly loved the summer heat complimentary with trips to the creek on the weekends. You always loved going to rodeos where you obsessed over the dandies. You loved southern food, the nature, the farms and the small town life.

What you didn't love was the men.

You were always a romantic at heart, reading steamy western novels with a flashlight under your blankets at the age of 14 or writing love letters you'd never send to cowboys in town. However, as you grew up into a woman, you realized you'd slowly started replacing the men with cowgirls. You spent your nights wondering what it'd be like to be actually satisfied in a relationship. You grew up in a traditional-minded town, so you tried to push down those desires. You had a couple boyfriends, but men just weren't it for you. They were too rough, too awkward with you in bed, too greedy. None of them knew how to please a woman, at least not a woman like you. After a while, you gave up on the dream cowgirl you had in mind. The novels became difficult to pick up once you began to believe you'd never get the chance to experience real passion or real pleasure. That was what you'd felt like, at least until Ellie moved into your town.

Ellie Williams wasn't much for the south. She was a western girl at heart, adorned with thick leather boots and messy auburn hair. You'd seen cowgirls before, so that wasn't what surprised you. You just felt a calling to her, you adored her from her freckles that faded out in the sun to her messy hair that had a tint of red when light hit it in the right way. She was strong, that was for sure. Her biceps looked so firm, like they could handle if you sank your teeth down into them. She wasn't an extremely strong-looking girl, but that only enticed you more. Her eyes told a lot about her, said she wasn't looking for anything funny, but you wondered if she was silly under all the bravado.

She moved from the west side of the states with Joel Miller, who wasn't a wealthy man by any means, but grew up in your home town. At first, you couldn't tell if Ellie and Joel were related or not. Joel was more friendly, talked to older folks in town, but Ellie often kept to herself. She'd spend most of her time helping out with the farm next to your father's. It was when you were walking to the farmer's market that you noticed her for the very first time.

Your father was a nice man, well known in town. You were living with him until you had enough money to afford your own small place. He owned a farm and wasn't the most rich man, but he made ends meet. Today was a nice day, which mean he unfortunately encouraged you to walk to the local farmer's market instead of stealing his truck for the errand. Of course, you kept your complaints to yourself. Your dad was a sweet old man, and you should've been thanking him anyways, cause you met the most gorgeous girl the world had to offer.

Poor Ellie was too busy herding in sheep to notice your stare, to even notice you pass the road. It only made you more intrigued, that she was such a hard worker.

After that day, you'd always look out for her presence. You avoided using your dad's truck when you needed to run errands, saying it would be a quick walk. You just liked being able to pass by her as she worked on the farm, get the extra few seconds to admire her. You really felt like a creep, but this was the first time you really felt such adoration for a person. Such attraction.

The first time you spoke to her, she was driving Joel's truck down the dirt road after she had finished up with your neighbor's farm. You at the time were walking, coming home from the market with a bag of peaches for a peach cobbler. Ellie noticed you, and that was really when the two of you clicked.

She was used to pretty girls, the west and south had no shortage of them. However, you were perfection for the cowgirl. You wore a cutesy pair of overalls and a pink t-shirt underneath, and Ellie had a soft spot for feminine girls. She came to a slow stop on the dusty road, putting the transmission in park.

"Hey, you! Need a ride?" She shouted with a smile plastered on her face. Your heart melted. You'd expected her to be more serious or smug, but she seemed almost nervous. It was only making your heart beat faster.

"I only live next to this farm, it's really no problem." You assured, though you really hoped she'd push the matter. Thankfully, she did.

"Really, Joel would kill me if he found out I let you walk home. It's getting late."

You, an utterly hopeless lesbian, couldn't resist. You said fuck it and let her reach over to open the passenger door for you, and your boots reached up into the truck to plop down into the passenger seat. You placed the brown paper bag of peaches in your lap and gave her a quick thanks as she began driving. Small talk felt more like two old friends hitting it off, and you liked her accent. It made you a tad more comfortable.

The two of you grew really close after that day. She'd be in the local rodeos and you looked forward to the sleepovers that came after. A few months of friendship helped you get to know her in a way that you could confidently call her your best friend. You still liked her though, feelings only growing the more the two of you bonded. You noticed that while she was a bit shy, she came out of her shell when she was around people she knew. She was quite sarcastic to Joel, and you loved the way she made fun of you at times. It made your heart flutter, and you imagined she was saying the opposite of whatever insult she had created for you.

Ellie wasn't much like what you'd imagined, and you partially felt bad for the feelings harbored away for her. She was a cowgirl who loved horses, sure. But she shared some private interests with you that shouldn't have made you want her more, but it did. One night, Ellie and you were sitting outside in her cow field, a blanket laid out beneath the two of you. She turned to you with a genuine smile, the warm look that she only gave very few people, and spoke in a quiet voice.

"You know, I've always wanted to go to space."

You turned to face her with slightly raised eyebrows. "Really? You? In Space?" You couldn't help the surprise in your tone.

She laughed softly at your expression. "Yes, dumbass. I used to listen to the first moon landing recording on repeat. Somethin' about it was really magical, ya know?"

You couldn't help but melt a little at her confession. The thought of Ellie being obsessed with astronauts was really endearing. But you couldn't stop the teasing, either.

"Is that why you have those nerdy space comics on your shelf? You told me those were Joel's!"

Ellie scoffed and swatted your arm playfully, but her hand lingered on your skin. "That's a topic for another time. Be grateful I share my secrets with ya."

You felt the warmth of her fingers, the way they softly traced patterns on your bare arm. Right then and there, you suddenly needed to risk it all.

"Ellie...I..I really need to tell you something." You sounded shaky and uncertain, but you needed to get your feelings out, even if it meant facing a possible rejection. This girl was too perfect to let get away.

"Yeah, what's up?" She sounded curious, unaware. That made you feel uneasy.

"I just..well, when I first saw you, I thought of you as a completely different person. And I really liked you. I liked you in a romantic way. I got to know you, though. The thing is, I think I like you even more. And I'm so sorry if you-" You were suddenly cut off when her plush lips met yours.

You were shocked, but quickly kissed her back, hands grasping at her everywhere, pulling her to lay on her side so you could tangle your legs with hers. It felt so nice to be kissing her. She tasted like fruit and smelled even better, and her tongue felt hypnotizing against yours. It made you crave much more.

Soon, you were rolled onto your back so the cowgirl could lay on top of you. Her hands were trailing from your sides to your stomach, her hand pausing above your shirt, her eyes meeting yours to search for any hesitation. When you nodded, her hands slid up your shirt to massage your tits through the fabric of your cotton bra. You let out a quiet whine, the feeling of her weight pressed on your body, and she leaned in to press her lips against your neck. In response, you tilted your head back, desperately craving more of her. You could feel the shakiness of her breath, and it reminded you that she was just as nervous as you were.

"Do you wanna keep going?" She asked, and you really noticed how different her tone was from when she was usually speaking to people. One of her hands trailed down the button of your jeans, and she didn't continue until you nodded.

Her hand quickly unzipped your jeans, her eyes meeting yours. She thought you were just too beautiful, looking up at her with wide eyes. She adored you. Her fingers slipped into your panties, and she let out a little "fuck" when she felt the damp patch in your panties. You laughed with a tinge of embarrassment.

"Please, Ellie." You sounded so desperate, Ellie quickly leaned up to plant a kiss on your lips. This one was much more confident, more sloppy and hungry than the first. She took your tongue into her mouth, giving it a hard suck which made you buck up into her hand, trying to get her to just fuck you.

"Patience, mkay?" She said softly as she pulled away, a shaky exhale leaving her mouth at the sight of the string of saliva the kiss had pulled from the two of you.

You nodded even though you weren't the most patient person. Ellie kept you at bay by rubbing at your clit with the pad of her finger, swirling moisture around the soft bud. You made one of the most heavenly sounds Ellie had ever heard, your eyes fluttering shut as she touched you. For the first time, someone actually focused on you. She struggled to pull your shirt off with just hand but you helped her out and soon, your bra was quickly unclasped. Ellie continued to rub at your clit as much as she could through your jeans, but she eventually gave up and pulled her hand out of your jeans, eliciting a cute whine from you.

"Off, please?" She requested, her voice so sweet and yet so demanding. Now that she knew you wanted her, she wasn't playing around. You nodded eagerly and lifted your hips as much as possible to pull your jeans and panties over your hips. Soon, you were left naked on the blanket. Ellie sat up to strip off her own clothes and you admired the sight.

Something about watching the girl strip, her pale skin coming into view in contrast to the stars above the two of you, it was perfection. Her body was slim and she was lean but had muscle on her. There they were, those perfect biceps..you couldn't help but sit up with her to plant kisses on them which soon turned into hungry little bites.

She let out a shaky laugh at your biting and joked with you, even in the heat of the moment. "You're gonna take a bite outta my arm, jesus."

You ignored her teasing and instead moved your lips to her pointy tits, smiling slightly as she shuddered. You found her weak spots. You dragged your tongue over both of her tits, feeling her nipples harden against your touch. She was getting impatient now. She pulled you closer so you were sitting with your legs tangled together, moving to slot herself between your legs. You let out countless desperate pleas as her wet cunt came into contact with yours.

You couldn't help but buck your hips into her no matter how much she tried to stabilize you, both of your moans filling the field. Her cunt was so wet against yours and you could feel her clit and lips both rub up and down all over your own clit. The stimulation felt so good but it had you desperate in ways your body knew, your whines getting louder when Ellie would lean in for wet, lazy kisses and trail her lips all over your neck, hands snaking around to squeeze your ass.

"Fuck, Els. Please, I'm gonna cum..I want you, please.." You pleaded with her, your orgasm building up inside you. This would be the first time you actually came from another person's actions.

"Cum with me, mkay? Cmon baby, you can cum for me.."

You'd never heard Ellie speak so filthy before. Sure, she had a sailor's mouth. She'd swear and curse even on her death bed. But just hearing her beg you to cum, it really sent sparks down into your pussy.

You frantically ground against her pussy, words coming out probably incoherent to Ellie's ears. "Fuck, I'm cummin', I love you Els.."

Your orgasm hit you like fireworks, all of the butterflies you'd felt for Ellie over the months released into intense bliss. She came with you, your juices mixing together, wetness coating both of your thighs.

The two of you spent the next few minutes catching your breaths, a comfortable silence exchanged. You were collapsed against her, arms around her as she held you close. She was so warm, and it was now a comfort more than a turn-on.

Soon, she spoke up in a soft, quiet murmur just for you.

"I love you too, by the way.."

[sonotpattismith]

but daddy I love him her!

pairing: billionaire's son!gojo x farmer's daughter!reader word count: 10.7k content: angst, fluff, romeo and juliet retelling, hurt w/ comfort, implications of abuse, smut, 18+

gojo fan-art by @3-aem

The grating sound of fake laughter would be ingrained in your mind for the remainder of the week, you were sure of it. In the midst of your zoned out staring and eavesdropping (though even that was becoming mind-numbing at this point), the tray of hordeurves balanced in your hands began to tip ever so slightly. It only caught your attention when one of the caviar topped… whatever it was started sliding to the right. With a strangled gasp, you quickly righted your posture, your spine now stiff as a board. 

You cast your gaze across the banquet hall of high profile, and thus high nose individuals, their glittering jewelery and lavish gowns nearly blinding you, and you assured that no one had seen your slip up. With a quiet sigh of relief, you mustered a polite smile for the goach woman before you, slipping off her glove to grab an appetizer from your tray. 

God, you needed this job, but for the love of all that is holy, you didn’t expect it to be this agonizing. In truth, it could have been worse. You could have found a temp job that really had you breaking your back as you were used to, so perhaps putting up with some horribly privileged elites for the few hours of their… gala or fundraising event or whatever excuse they used to justify such lavish get-togethers, wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be. 

You didn’t get details of the event you’d be servicing until just an hour prior to its beginning when you were given a run down about the nature of the event as well as the importance of the clientele. Of course, you had already heard of the Gojo family long before your temporary manager explained them to you with sweat dripping anxiously down his forehead. They were the business tycoons of Tokyo, owning half the real estate that you’d likely ever stepped foot in in this city. 

There was a slight unease in your stomach at the thought of being entrusted to work at an event so… high profile, but your subtle irritation for the gall of it all trumped that anxiety tenfold. Not only had you had a good understanding of who the family was due to good ole’ word of mouth, but it also didn’t help that they had been singlehandedly making your father’s life a living hell for the past few years. 

Sure, they weren’t intentionally targeting the man, but as their franchises and real estate continued blossoming throughout the city, there were growing pressures for your father to sell his farmland with the intention of their company building more fucking skyscrapers filled with law firms or IV transfusion spas or whatever the hell it was that these rich people filled their pockets with. He had stayed resolute in his intention to keep the farm, but you knew the rising property taxes that came along with that Gojo family price tag popping up all around him was making it difficult for him to keep it afloat. 

Which is precisely why you were currently pretending not to be creeped out by the middle-aged man leering at you from your peripheral— you really needed this money. 

Clearing your throat, a wobbly smile graced your lips as you held out the tray to him in hopes that it was the caviar he was eyeing and not your… hordeurves. Perhaps that was the wrong move to make though, because he was taking one and staying with a look on his face that said he had an offer that you just wouldn’t be able to refuse. 

“You do private events, sweetheart?” 

You had half a mind to tell him that this was a private event, but the Rolex on his wrist told you that he had too much money to piss off. 

“I-I’m contracted by the catering company, sir.” You explained with your eyes facing forward, gulping down the heartbeat that had manifested in your throat at the way he chuckled patronizingly and leaned against the wall you were standing by. “I work the events that they send me to.”

“Alright then, better question,” He grinned connivingly as he absentmindedly straightened the gold cufflinks at his wrists. “Can I contract you for a private event?”

Any hope of rebuttal got stuck in your throat, caught between your burning desire to defend yourself and the even greater need for this job to go well. 

“I’m pretty sure your three ex-wives would agree that contracts aren’t really your strong suit, wouldn’t you say, Junto?” 

Disguising your near instantaneous chortle as a cough, you quickly turned your head away from Junto and your knight in… Prada? Lord knows you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. The sleezeball scoffed, but it seemed he too felt the waves of dominating energy coming from the younger man that dared challenge him, because that scoff quickly turned into a strictly rehearsed laugh.

“You always did have a mouth on you, didn’t you, kid?” He gritted through his fake smile as he patted said kid on the back, who only offered a mocking aw, shucks in return. “You stay outta trouble, huh?”

The man promptly removed himself from the situation lest he be torn apart anymore by someone who appeared less than half his age. Biting at your bottom lip, you weren’t sure if it would be appropriate to acknowledge what you had just witnessed, so you opted to face forward, trying to ignore the scent of the woodsy cologne that just wafted an air far too expensive for you to even be breathing in. Despite your careful composure, you could feel his eyes on the side of your head. 

“What a fuckin’ weirdo, amaright?” He broke the silence for you, a smug smile stretching across his lips when you failed to contain your laughter that time around. 

“Oh my god, I thought he would catch fire standing so close to the candles with so much gel in his hair.” You whisper-shouted, absolutely reeling to get it off your chest after standing in silence for so long. 

Your savior chortled next to you, hunching over himself ever-so-slightly as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his perfectly-tailored suit. Finally daring to look his way, you were almost knocked off your balance for the second time that night as you took in his striking, white hair and icy-blue eyes that seemed to twinkle supernaturally under the candlelight’s flicker. He looked to be your age, and you figured he was the son of one of these bigshots that was dragged here for the sake of networking.

“Maybe we should get him back over here then. We need something to liven this place up— a grease fire would do nicely.” He teased while straightening his posture once again to look out amongst the sea of people as you giggled along beside him. 

“Thank you, by the way.” You expressed sincerely once your laughter had died down. “It was kind of an awkward position he was putting me in.”

The man only hummed, observing you with a mischievous glint in his other-worldly eyes that had you thinking the creep was onto something when he told him to stay out of trouble. 

“Wanna know how you can thank me?” You felt a premature flush falling over your cheeks as he leaned down to be within your earshot. “Sneak me a piece of the cake that’s in the back, yeah?”

At once, the tension in your shoulders dissipated, and you smiled apologetically at him.

“I can’t cut the cake until the hosts give their speech.”

“Ah, see, therein lies my problem because that is assuming I would be staying for the entirety of this snoozefest.” He was promptly taking the tray from your arms and blindly handing it off to another unsuspecting worker who was passing by. “C’mon, I just want a little something sweet before I dip out of here. Please?”

Maybe it was the fact that you felt partially indebted to him, or maybe it was that irresistible pout he was directing your way, or, most likely, the fact that he was obscenely attractive. Whichever it was had you slipping into the kitchen where the lavish cake was waiting atop the counter, peeking around to assure the coast was clear before you grabbed a knife. With an unbelieving shake of your head, you turned it around so as to cut from the back and not make it so obvious. 

Your heart was thumping wildly against your white-button down-clad chest as you promptly maneuvered it back to its proper positioning, grabbing a spoon before you made a beeline toward the hallway where he said he’d be waiting. Sure enough, there he was, just barely illuminated by the candle-lit lanterns hanging in the grand hallway as he leaned against the wall. 

“Hah! You’re a total badass!” He cackled shortly as he pushed himself off the wall. Surveying the plate in your hand, his brows furrowed suddenly. “Just one?”

You shifted nervously on your feet, the corners of your lips twitching in uncertainty. 

“You… wanted two?”

“No, where’s yours?” The question fell from his perfectly pink lips as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. With the reemergence of that incriminating pout, he presented the hand that had since been hiding behind his back. In it, was a bottle of champagne that looked like it cost more than what you were even getting paid for this stupid event. “Brought us some bubbly and everything— you know what, it’s fine. I can share just this once.”

At once, he was leading you by your free arm down the dim hallway until he reached an alcove that would be perfectly disguised to anyone looking straight down the hall. 

“Wait, wait, I can’t be here—” 

“Why not?”

“Why not?” You scoffed in bitter amusement at his oblivion as he sat crisscrossed against the wall. “Because I could lose my job, that’s why not.”

“Oh, please,” He waved you off as he nodded toward the spot beside him. Slowly, you begrudgingly took a seat next to him. “You’re not gonna lose your job.” 

With a resignated sigh, you set the plate down on the floor before him. 

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Oh the—” He flinched back as he popped the top off the champagne, the abrupt rupture making you squeal. “—surest. What are you doing working this dick-measuring competition anyway?”

You tried not to get distracted by the way his lips settled eagerly around the cake-filled spoon, the smallest of moans leaving him in the process before he passed the plate to you. 

“Need a new laptop for school.” You explained, though you knew it was only a fraction of the story, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t understand your financial struggles as he allowed drops of champagne to spill onto his freshly-pressed suit pants. Despite your better judgement, you took a bite from the cake as well. “Too many open coffee cups next to electronics got me too confident. So, I’m stuck as the Gojo family mule for the night.”

He huffed out a laugh through a mouthful of champagne. You two soon swapped, him taking the cake and you grabbing at the neck of the bottle. Leaning your head back against the wall, you tilted your head to look at him.

“You know, I heard this whole thing was actually a networking thing for their son.” You rambled, the slightest hint of alcohol clearly making you way too comfortable with this stranger. He only hummed beside you, the faintest of amused smiles on his handsome face. “Heard he’s a real disaster, too.”

“I heard he showed up an hour late.” 

“Of course he did.” You snorted softly with a shake of your head. “If I had half the opportunities that dude had—”

“What would you do?”

You fell silent for a moment, smushing some icing around the delicate, china plate. In your peripheral, you saw the small, shiny triangle shaped logo at the base of his black tie, and it once again reminded you that even this man, as relatable as he might appear to you hiding from the party to stuff his face with cake and champagne, wouldn’t understand the petty issues of the working class. 

“I wouldn’t be passing out caviar to a bunch of billionaires— that’s for sure.”

“Satoru!” 

At once, the man was snatching the plate from your hand, juggling it along with the champagne bottle between his long fingers. 

“That’d be my queue.” He quipped, glancing down at your name tag before testing how it sounded on his lips. You blinked owlishly at him, because you could have sworn that Satoru was the name of— “Sorry, you know me— real disaster.” He winked before swiping at the leftover icing at the edge of your parted lips and licking it from his thumb. “Try not to get propositioned while I’m gone!”

You watched with unreserved horror as he stumbled to his feet to race up the hall before anyone could come down to find you. In the quiet solitude of the secluded hallway, you could still just barely hear the host of the event introducing his son with some heartfelt speech about how proud he was of him that was most definitely written by someone else. A churning sense of mortification settled in your stomach as you looked up at the portrait on the wall behind you of the Gojos. 

The Gojos and their son.

The Gojos and their white-haired, blue-eyed son.

Oh, you were so losing your job.

It seemed as though you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs no matter how hard you tried as you stood with the rest of the contracted wait staff for a final rundown of how service went overall that night. 

Following Satoru’s abrupt departure, you begged a coworker to switch roles with you for the night— a change she was more than happy to oblige given she was on dishwashing duty, but you were just eager to be avoiding any possibile run-ins with the man you had just shit-talked right to his face. It was the only reason you made it through the night without vomiting, you were sure. Why had you opened your stupid mouth?

A call of your name pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts, and you lifted your head to meet the gaze of your manager. Through the blood rushing in your ears, his words sounded muffled to you as he handed you an envelope. Blinking a few times, you shook your head and called out to him just as he had moved onto the next worker. 

“Sorry— what did you say this was for?” 

“Long night, huh?” He chuckled at your supposed sluggishness. “One of the guests wanted to give you an additional tip. Guess you left an impression.”

You gulped, looking down at the envelope with the slightest of trembles in your fingers. It burned a hole in your pocket the entire drive home, and you were more so than usual frustrated at your run-down truck’s pathetic engine. It wasn’t until you had showered, cooled your nervous system even in the slightest, and gotten into your bed that you worked up the courage to open it. Flinching back as if it might explode in your face, you slowly tore it open. 

“Holy shit.” You breathed out, clutching the envelope closer to you to inspect the stack of bills glaring back at you. Frantically thumbing through them— your head started to spin after you hit five-hundred. “He’s insane. Oh my god, he’s insane.”

Pulling out the wad of money, a small napkin you recognized as one you were offering the guests with the horderves fell onto your mattress. You snatched it up, frenzied eyes quickly skimming the sloppy penmanship. 

Thanks again for the cake, and try to keep your coffee off of your new laptop. 

— Satoru ‘Real Disaster’ Gojo

The money, along with the note, sat untouched at the bottom of your bag for nearly a week. It felt so unbelievably wrong to use it, but you weren’t exactly sure what to do with the thousand dollars you’d received in exchange for a slice of cake and an insult. So, it remained there as you pretended to forget its existence, continuing to work your actual job in the meantime as though you didn’t already now have more than enough for a new laptop. 

It’s where you found yourself now, mindlessly reading over the notes from your previous class as you sat at the front desk of your campus library. Your days were typically slow like this, especially since it wasn’t anywhere near finals season, which is about the only time of semester you would see this place bustling with students. There were no complaints from you though, as you were able to study and get homework done so you’d be free to help your dad out around the farm when you were home.

The writer’s block you were suffering from was just on the cusp of escaping you as you finally began typing out an opening paragraph for the marketing paper you had been stuck on for nearly an hour. As if the universe was dead set on mocking your academic struggles, a student strolled up to your desk just as your fingers began moving across the keyboard on the library computer. With a barely disguised sigh of frustration, you looked up to offer your services, but your typical greeting died in your throat. 

He looked different than when you had last seen him— out of his Prada suit and instead donning a university crewneck as he scrolled purposefully through his phone with furrowed brows of concentration. Satoru Gojo; maybe it wasn’t such a shock that he attended the same university as you, given it was what some would call a ‘prestigious’ university that you were only lucky enough to attend due to the scholarship you grinded your ass off to qualify for each semester. 

There was a subtle hitch in your breath as he hummed triumphantly, zooming into something on his phone before leaning over the counter to show you. You hoped that perhaps he would have forgotten all about you, and you redirected your attention to the book he was showing you.

“Do you know if you carry this book? I ordered it for class, but it still hasn’t—” 

You felt your stomach practically drop through your ass and onto the floor below you when he abruptly cut himself off. Daring to glance up from his phone, you found those intensely stunning eyes wide and trained on you. A slow smile spread across his lips, and the shock in his eyes morphed into that wicked mischievousness that seemed to come so naturally to him.

“Well that dinosaur certainly doesn’t look like a new laptop to me.” He quipped, clicking his phone shut to lean against the counter on his elbows. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“That’s because I didn’t buy a new laptop.” You explained with burning cheeks, reaching for the bag you had stored under the desk. Fishing around at the bottom of it, you procured the envelope that had been lingering in your possession for a week. You slid it over to him. “Nevermind the fact that I could have gotten three laptops with that kind of money.”

Gojo backed away from the envelope as though it might burn him to touch it, raising his hands defensively. 

“So, I figured you could get a nice one. Sue me—”

“I’m not taking your money, Gojo.”

“Ouch— not the family name, princess! You wound me.” He clutched theatrically at his chest before letting his arms fall beside him with an aggravatingly charming smirk. Huffing out an indignant sigh, you moved to search the system for the book he had shown you. 

“We’re not friendly enough for the first name basis, and we’re certainly not friendly enough that I’d accept this kind of money from you.” You emphasized with a few pointed clicks of your mouse before turning to face him once again. “That book is in the third row to your left.” 

“Yeah?” He hummed, eyes assessing you pensively. The ever present smirk on his lips never faltered. “And what would you have done with it if you didn’t run into me?” 

Pursing your lips, you narrowed your eyes at him in challenge, but it was one he was more than prepared to take on as he tilted his head mockingly.

“Who knows, I’m partial to animals— maybe a local shelter would have needed it more than me.” 

“How very noble of you.”

“Well, you’re not the only one around here drawn to philanthropy.” Leaning in until he could feel your breath fanning against his nose, you smiled in feigned charm. “Of course, my efforts wouldn’t be contributing to a tax write-off, but giving is giving, right?”

But your biting accusations didn’t deter him, if anything, that fierce tongue of yours only intrigued him more after so long of everyone in his life blindly agreeing with him. You wondered if he could hear the way your heart was racing against your chest, because it was just your luck that the arrogant son of the family fucking your dad’s life over was breathtakingly handsome. He hummed softly, picking up the envelope from the counter to pat it teasingly onto your nose. 

“And that’s what you thought I was doing? Charity work?” 

“Well you certainly weren’t doing it because I left any sort of stellar impression.” The confidence in your tone faltered as you recalled that night, a flush falling over your cheeks. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

With a mockingly wistful sigh, he turned around, leaning back on his elbows against the counter as he tilted his head back to look at you. 

“Well, I could hardly blame you. You don’t know me, after all.” His anticipatory tone told you that he was plotting something in that pretty, privileged head of his. “And that’s our problem, isn’t it? You don’t know me, I don’t know you— you said it yourself, princess. Can’t accept this kind of money from a stranger.”

You didn’t respond, not wanting to encourage whatever nonsense he was currently conjuring up. Standing from your desk, you walked around the counter and headed down toward the rows of books. Gojo was hot on your heels though, trailing behind you as he leaned down to use his ‘inside voice’. 

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘Well what do you suggest then, Satoru?’.” His pitched impression of you almost made you smile, but, again, you didn’t want to egg him on. Instead, you headed down your intended row and began skimming the books as he leaned against the shelf. “Well, I’m so glad you asked, because I happen to be in need of a date for my lovely family’s… hah, whaddya’ know— charity gala this weekend.”

“And this concerns me how?”

“What better way to get to know one another than spending a few hours pretending to like each other, huh?” 

“You’re delusional, Gojo.” You shook your head with an incredulous smile. Finally spotting the book he had shown you, you pulled it from the shelf and shoved it toward his chest. “Not happening.”

“C’mon, it’s a win-win for both of us. I get a night without my parents on my ass introducing me to every poor girl they sink their claws into, and you can keep the money knowing it was a gift from a friend.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, a bemused smirk taking over your features as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Let me get this straight.” You began with a pop of your hip, leaning back on the shelf across from him. “Satoru Gojo is having to rent a girlfriend for the night. Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Weeell, if you put it that way, that would make you a—” He quickly shut his mouth upon seeing the icy glare you shot his way, daring him to finish that sentence. With a subtle fear hidden behind those striking eyes, he mustered a sweet smile. “—a fool to not take me up on such a kick-ass offer.”

“Nice save.” You muttered with a roll of your eyes, pushing off the wall to get back to work. He stepped forward though, placing his arms on either side of the shelves by your head and effectively trapping you in. That cologne that you remember driving you crazy all those nights ago was once again making your head spin, and you struggled to find the courage to look him in the eyes. 

“Live a little— it’ll be fun. Think of it as… as prom!” His eyes widened to emphasize his point. 

“I went to prom— could’ve gone without it.” You whispered with a challenging glare.

“That’s cause I wasn’t your date.” He shrugged obviously, and you were beginning to see how it was that Satoru Gojo always seemed to get his way. “I’ll even steal ya’ your own piece of cake this time.”

This had you turning your head to the side to hide your tickled smile, shaking your head as he laughed triumphantly at the sound.

“Atta girl! Now come on and put your number in my phone before I retract my offer.” 

“Don’t push it, Gojo.”

“Right— yes, ma’am.”

The two of you didn’t message much in the days leading up to the event. When you did, it was mainly Satoru not-so-subtly checking in to assure that you hadn’t changed your mind. He let you know that he’d pick you up, but a ride was the last thing you were worried about as you surveyed your appearance in the mirror. 

Formal events hadn’t ever exactly been your scene, given the more modest living conditions that you had grown up in. You could only pray that you weren’t embarrassing yourself as you smoothed your hands down your old prom dress that you had miraculously managed to squeeze yourself back into. It was the only formal dress you owned, the glittering stone details on the bodice contrasting nicely against the noir, silk fabric. While it looked nice enough, you were sure you’d have trouble breathing the rest of the night, already fantasizing about how exhilarating it’d be to take it off after everything was said and done. 

With an anxious sigh, you leaned forward to carefully color in your lips. You gave yourself one last look over in the mirror before leaving your bedroom. A subtle cringe shook your frame as your heels clacked noisily against the wood floor. The last thing you wanted was to be questioned anymore by your father than you had already been when he saw you poking through your mom’s old jewelery box. You had played it off as a fundraising event your university was hosting, but you weren’t sure that he was entirely convinced. 

There was a firm knock at the front door that had you rolling your eyes in exasperation, because you had told him to just text you when he got here. You were grateful that it seemed as though your dad was still out and not here to witness Satoru Gojo of all people picking his daughter up as a date. With a final huff of self-encouragement, you pulled the door open.

Now, he had had a line prepared about the hell of a place you got here, what with all the acres of land extending out the back of the property, but his lazy joke dissipated from his mind at the sight of you all done up for him. You looked so different than the last times that he’d seen you, and it wasn’t just that your eyes were shimmering with intricately placed shadows, or that your dress hugged your frame sinfully. 

No, it was the light in your eyes that had previously been overshadowed by the weight of your responsibilities each time you’d seen him. Gone was that lingering exhaustion that dared taint your features, and in its place was a hopeful glimmer that knocked the wind from him as you directed it up at him with fluttering lashes. 

He no longer felt like the young-adult he had grown to be, resembling more so a fumbling teenage boy picking up the homecoming date that was far out of his league. Anxiously, fiddling with the knot of his tie as if it was to blame for his sudden labored breathing, he chuckled half-heartedly.

“You clean up nice for someone who didn’t even want to come in the first place.” Gojo quipped as he bowed theatrically with an outstretched hand. 

“Well I sure hope I look the part with how much I’m charging you.” The wink you sent him as you placed your hand in his nearly had him falling to his knees, and he wondered how he would survive the remainder of the night without embarrassing himself. 

Nearly the entire drive was dedicated to him giving you the rundown of the event— who would be there, who he was pointedly trying to avoid, the sequence of events for the coming night. It all somehow snowballed into him babbling about the reality show worthy fueds and shambled love lives of the city's most elite names. You wanted to keep up, but Lord could this boy talk.

Even with all his rambling, nothing could have prepared you for the hundreds of scrutinizing eyes that fell upon you as soon as you entered on the arm of the hosts’ infamously single son. There were already a myriad of guests here, drinks in everyone’s hands and people on the dance floor. 

“Why do I get the vibe that we’re disgustingly late?” You muttered through a polite smile, your hand curling tighter around Satoru’s bicep as you two continued making your way in. 

“Pfft, if they want me to stay till it ends, I sure as hell ain’t coming right when it starts.” He retorted with a scoff before leaning down to your ear-shot. “Learn the ways of the disastrous prodigal son, princess.”

There wasn’t a chance in hell that he was ever going to let you live that one down. 

“Ooo, and there are those people I was avoiding. Remember the ones with the twin daughters— come dance with me.” You could barely keep up with his rapid fire, and you wouldn’t have the chance to ask him to reiterate because he was moving toward the center of the room like a man on a mission, because he was one, the mission being to get through this thing unscathed. 

“Wait, Gojo, I don’t know how to dance.” You whispered-shouted as you tried to desperately dig your heels into the ground, but he was stronger than you and a hell of a lot more determined.

“Just stand there and pretend to be in love with me— I’ll do the rest.” He winked, the arm you had yourself wrapped around swooping down to scoop you against him with an urging hand on the small of your back. “Hand on the shoulder— atta girl.” 

Through your flustered blush, you glared indignantly at his patronizing. He tutted softly, his other hand dancing down the silken skin of your arm to grasp at yours.

“That look isn’t screaming ‘love sick’.” Gojo informed through an amused smile. Before you could manage to huff out a response, he had spun around to dip you dramatically, the abrupt motion emitting a delighted squeal from you, much to his satisfaction. “There it is— keep looking at me like that. Talk to me— really sell it.”

You weren’t sure how he did it— how his effortless charm managed to break through even the strongest of resentments you held toward that last name of his. It was all around you though, enveloping you in his orbit and blanketing you in a warmth you were sure was radiating right off your incandescent cheeks. As you stared at the flickers of indigo that seemed to speckle throughout his otherwise icy irises, you nearly forgot what you were supposed to be doing.

“Right, um…” Your eyes fluttered dramatically as you racked your mind for anything to say to him. The dimple in his right cheek that winked at you with each of his ravishing smirks made it difficult for you to stay on track. “Physics.” 

“Physics?” He repeated with unconcealed mirth, and you nodded.

“The book you checked out the other day— it was a physics book.” He hummed affirmatively as if questioning where the hell you were going with this. Truthfully though, he was too lost in the flustered twitching of your plush lips to care if any of what you were saying actually made any real sense. From so close, he could see the sun-spots lining your nose and cheeks like the most breathtaking of constellations. “It just surprised me. It’s not a required class for business majors.” 

“It’s not, and I—” He paused his explanation to twirl you under his arm, reveling in the enraptured smile that graced your face as he pulled you back in. “—am not a business major.”

“Oh? The prodigal son dares not follow in his father’s footsteps? How scandalous.” There was an airy giggle lingering in your tone that fell upon his ears like the most harmonious of symphonies. “And what, pray tell, is the alternative that has led his little lamb astray?”

Those curved lips of his parted to indulge your curiosity, but the announcement that dinner would be served momentarily had a groan slipping past them instead. Just as he moved to guide you to the respective table with a hand on the small of your back, you tugged at his sleeve.

“Wait, I have to pee.” You whispered, hoping the guests bustling around you didn’t hear it. 

“Oh— yeah, there’s a bathroom to the right of the entrance.” 

He was about to walk away, leave you to do your business when you clutched tighter at his sleeve. Looking down at you with furrowed brows, you stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes that said please don’t leave me.

You heard Gojo’s head bumping impatiently against the door of the restroom as you managed to wrangle the zipper of your dress down. There was an embarrassingly long attempt of trying to simply lift the gown up as would have been far easier, but it was proven difficult with the stubbornly form fitting fabric. Now though, as the joints in your shoulders flexed painfully in an attempt to zip it back up, you realized you had an even bigger dilemma. 

Mortified beads of sweat began lining your forehead as you panted at your reflection in the mirror, your zipper still barely halfway up your back. 

“Did you fall in or something?” You heard him call out from outside the door, only making your heart pound more mercilessly against your chest.

“I-I’m fine! I’ll be right out.” But your voice was trembling ever so slightly in the midst of your subtle panic, and it made him push off the door, leaning in closer with furrowed brows. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Nothing!” You stammered breathlessly, but you were rapidly coming to the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this without some help. Fighting back tears of frustration, you leaned your forehead against the door. “I— I’m just kind of… stuck.”

“Stuck?” The doorknob jiggled with his attempt to get in. “Open the door.”

The already stuffy air of the restroom seemed to grow ten degrees warmer in tandem with your crippling embarrassment as you hyped yourself up. Holding up the front of your dress, you timidly cracked the door open. Gojo was quickly shoving his face in through the small opening, assessing the situation with an incredulous expression. He almost laughed, but it died in his throat upon seeing your panicked face.

“Okay, alright, calm down. Let me in.” You moved back as he slipped inside. 

“I-I can’t get it back up.”

“You’re fine. Turn around and let me try.” Gojo steadied his hands on your shoulders as you turned your back to face him. A brief sigh of relief fell from your lips at the sound of the zipper rolling up, but it halted midway. He paused, blinking a few times before attempting to tug it up again. “Okay— um…”

“Oh my god.”

“No, no, it’s—  it’s fine.” But the laughter he was previously suppressing began to boil over to the surface. It came out as a controlled choke in his attempt to push it down, but you still heard it.

“It’s not funny!” 

“I’m not laughing!”

“You’re laughing at me!”

His teeth were sinking mercilessly into his bottom lip to avoid pissing you off anymore, but the wolfish grin on his face was making it increasingly difficult. Falling forward until his forehead laid against your shoulder, he shook his head with a boyish cackle. 

“Ohhh, you’ve made this night so much more entertaining for me.” He sighed wistfully before pushing you forward to dramatically haul his foot onto the toilet seat as if to brace himself. “Alright, deeep breath for me, let’s go.”

In spite of your humiliation, you too couldn’t help but begin giggling nervously at the absurdity of the situation. Gulping in a deep breath, you straightened your posture as stiff as you could as a theatrical grunt bubbled in his chest with his firm tug. The blasted zipper finally slid up the remainder of your back, leaving you both hollering in relief. 

“See?” Satoru was clutching onto your arms lest you double over with the force of your belly laughs. “You just needed a big, strong— ”

“Satoru?” 

Both your heads shot up to look at the now open door, and the woman you recognized as his mother now stood at the entrance with a less than impressed expression on her stern face. You could have strangled him for not bothering to even close the door, let alone lock it. 

Mortified wouldn’t be a strong enough word. 

Your fingers dug anxiously into your thighs as you sat at the painstakingly quiet table, sat right across from the woman who had just witnessed her son wrangling you back into your dress in the event’s restroom. At the very least, it seemed Satoru wasn’t fairing any better, staring down at his place setting as he took an absentminded sip of his wine. You had never seen him so… serious before. Though you had only known him briefly, it felt like a completely different man sitting next to you.

“So, I assume you two met at university?” His father’s stoic voice was finally the one to break the tension that he wasn’t even sure the reason of in the first place. 

Glancing up with a fluttering gaze, you found the man’s familiarly striking blue eyes directed at you. 

“Um, yes. We attend the same university.” You thought it best to not specify that that wasn’t where you two met, already having made an ill impression on his mother as it was. 

“Oh? And what are you studying?” His mother opened her mouth for the first time since redirecting the both of you to the table. You looked up as the wait staff set a salad in front of you, though you felt far too anxious to eat right now. 

“My major is in business.” You informed, picking up your fork in an attempt to at least look like you weren’t internally short-circuiting. There was a soft nudge on your thigh as Satoru subtly bumped his knee against you to get your attention. Peering over, you noted with flushed cheeks that he was tapping at the smaller fork at your placement, praying his parents didn’t make a comment to embarrass you any further. Gulping harshly, you moved to correct your mistake. 

“Business, huh?” His father’s face seemed to light up marginally at your answer, and he looked toward his son pointedly. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into Satoru then. He’s been so stubborn about this… what is it again?”

You watched from your peripheral as his hand clenched at his silverware in response to his father’s not-so-subtle jab.

“Quantum physics.” He responded bluntly, stabbing at the tomato on his plate a bit more aggressively than necessary. 

It was becoming clear to you the reason for his abrupt switch in temperament. You had only spent all of ten minutes sat with his parents, and it was evident how they seemed to drain that spark that was usually so easily present in his eyes. His response made your lips part slightly in astonishment. It’s not that you thought he was stupid, but you certainly had never pegged him as the type disciplined enough for such a rigorous field. 

“Quantum physics!” His dad held his hand out with a bitter laugh before looking back at you. “Now what do you suppose he is going to get out of studying quantum physics that will be more fruitful than if he stayed within the family business?”

You wanted to defend him, already preparing a curt but respectful response about how he’d get more out of studying something he was passionate about, but the older Gojo continued talking.

“Is that what you’re doing?” He asked you as he took a sip of his wine. “Studying to stay within a family business?”

The mention of your family spilling from the lips of the very man responsible for ninety percent of their struggles made your jaw clench. Perhaps it was the forlorn expression that had overtaken Satoru’s once lively face that gave you the courage to not simply brush it under the rug. 

“Actually, I’m studying business in hopes of buying my father’s farm from him in the future.” You clarified with your lips set in a firm line. Beside you, Satoru’s head slowly turned to face you as it seemed he had come to the realization faster than his parents were.

“A farm?” His dad scoffed with an amused smile. “That’s nonsense. No sense in wasting your efforts on a farm. You should hope to do better than your parents did, don’t you think? I certainly hope the same for my son.”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, cluching at the napkin in your lap. 

“Dad, that’s—”

“Better?” You laughed bitterly, cutting off whatever attempt Gojo was going to make to defend you. “Perhaps, sir, my father’s farm would be doing better if your company wasn’t driving him off his own land.”

It seemed that the man was finally putting two and two together, your last name falling from his lips in recognition. 

“I see what this is about.” He shook his head with a patronizing smile, wiping at his mouth with the stark white napkin. “Sweetheart, this is just the way society progresses. City’s grow, and—”

“As does your bank account, I’m assuming.” You bit back with a raised brow. “What progresses society is people who actually give a shit about that society.”

“A farmer’s mouth too to match her father’s. Boy, son, do you know how to pick them.”

“Dad! ” Satoru growled out in warning as his silverware clattered down onto his plate, and you weren’t sure if the flush in his cheeks was from anger or humiliation.

“Don’t bother.” You abruptly stood from your seat, hoping desperately that you could hold your mortified tears back long enough to not break down in front of everyone. “I think I’ve had my fill of playing dress up for one night.” 

As you stormed toward the exit, the bottom of your dress bundled up furiously in your hands, you could hear Satoru calling after you. You couldn’t bear to look back at him though, the tears falling in angry, stinging streams down your cheeks as the fresh air nipped at your face. His long legs seemed to carry him much faster than you anticipated though, and his hand was soon curling desperately around your arm.

“Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“No, but I did, okay?” You cried, swiping furiously at the mascara you were sure was staining your face right now. “I knew better, and I still let myself be— be humiliated. So, please just spare me the pity and let me go home, Gojo.”

“I’ll drive you—”

“Alone. I want to go home alone.”

His movements faltered, a hushed guilt striking his handsome face. The moonlight’s illumination seemed to bounce off his incandescent eyes as his gaze fluttered. With a solemn nod, he strode toward the sleek, black car parked just out front and knocked on the window. When it rolled down, a black-haired man peeked out in question as he adjusted the square frames on his nose. 

“Take her home.” Satoru demanded simply before moving to open the back door for you. You kept your eyes focused on the ground as you ducked into the vehicle, but you could feel his solemn gaze burning a hole into the side of your head with every step. “I mean it— I’m sorry.”

After a pregnant pause with no response, he turned his head to the side, his Adam's apple bobbing with his strained gulp as he closed the door. 

For the first time in what seemed like years, you went home and allowed yourself to cry in your father’s arms. Of course, this entailed your explanation of what had actually been going on that night, but you were too beside yourself to care anymore. In truth, you wished you could have told him how much you hated it, how you were counting the seconds until you could leave and forget about whatever idiotic agreement you’d made with Gojo. You couldn’t though, and that made your bitter tears that much worse. 

Despite your rampant views on the lap of luxury these people draped themselves upon, it felt new and exciting to be at the front of it for the first time. As you desperately wracked your brain to explain your sudden change of heart, all clues pointed back to him, because it was exhilarating to waltz with him as though you had stumbled upon an ever gracious prince, and you could still feel the aching in your cheeks from the sheer force of the laughter he was able to pull from you even during perhaps one of the most embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions of your life.

You had come to the realization, and perhaps your father had as well, that it wasn’t the respect of the haughty company that had surrounded you two that night that made you feel so depraved as it was pulled from you— it was Satoru, and the way you couldn’t for the life of you find it in yourself to fault him for the impertinence of the masses, no matter how much easier it might have been if you did. 

A tear escaped you for every memory of each smirk, each lingering touch and longing gaze— because it was the brash reminder of your glaring differences that stung worst of all. It was the realization that at your very core, you and Satoru were one in the same— in a desperate pursuit against the expectations set before you, yet forcefully pulled into the sickening orbit of their consequences nonetheless. 

Satoru Gojo wasn’t at fault, you finally admitted to yourself as you stared up at your ceiling that night. You thought about the darkness that shrouded him with each insolent syllable that fell from his parent’s lips. You thought about how lonely it must feel in that grand house of his with no one around that didn’t have an agenda to push on him. 

You thought about how many times he must have hidden in that little alcove in his vast hallway— not because he was the Gojo family’s disaster, but because however grating the silence his seclusion provided mustn’t have compared to the gruelling disquietude of belonging to family who had everything in the world except an ounce of care for their only son. 

You had stopped crying for the shamed farmer’s daughter, and instead shed a tear for the forgotten prodigal son. 

In the midst of star-lit dreams of dance floors barren of self-righteousness, you were pulled from your slumber by the distinct, sharp thuds against your window. It was proven difficult to pry your eyes open, given the countless streams that had stung them to sleep. Rubbing sluggishly at them in hopes of waking up enough to assess the situation, you slowly sat up in your bed. You paused for a moment, wondering if perhaps you had just been dreaming the offending noise, but it soon sounded once again. 

Pulling yourself begrudgingly off your warmed sheets, you slowly made your way to the window, almost fearful of what you’d find as you peeked through the curtains. 

“Oh my god.” You rasped out at the sight before you. Ripping your curtains aside, you wrangled your window open with a soft grunt. “What in god’s name are you doing, Gojo?”

He looked up at you as if surprised that you’d actually appeared, and the stunned expression made you wonder how many of the windows in your house he had assaulted before finally finding yours. His neatly tailored, sleek black suit still sat proudly on his frame as he huffed out a sigh. 

“You were supposed to say ‘Romeo, oh Romeo—”

“Do you not remember what else Juliet tells Romeo in this scene?” You whispered furiously down at him, but he only blinked owlishly at you. “She tells him that he’s gonna get his ass beat if he gets caught. You’re not exactly my dad’s favorite person right now.”

“Then come down here.” He insisted pleadingly, holding up a bag for you to see. “I stole you a piece of cake.”

The two of you sat in the bed of your truck, shoulders slumped against one another as you passed a plate of cake back and forth. Neither of you were quite sure what to say, but you both knew it was comforting that the stars shining above you held nary an opinion about either of your paths. There was a blackening bruise lining his right undereye, the lid ever-so-slightly squinted shut. He didn’t mention anything about the way your eyes were still swollen from the tears you had shed, so you didn’t ask about his black eye or split knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Gojo.” It was the only thing you could think to say. Part of you was apologizing for the harsh manner in which you had prematurely critiqued him, the other part felt obligated to apologize for whatever had transpired between him and his father following your departure. 

“Don’t call me that.” He shook his head, that tired expression haunting his face once again. “That’s not who I want to be— not right now.”

Gulping down the lump in your throat, you corrected yourself. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru.”

It was silent for a few moments longer as you two finished your shared dessert. With a sigh, you leaned your head back to stare up at the myriad of stars shining down on you, and, from your peripheral, you saw Satoru do the same. 

“There’s a theory in quantum physics that says objects don’t exist independently.” He began, his good eye working to count each star that caught his attention— willing them into existence. “In other words, if no one is around to see it, it just… doesn’t exist.”

Your lashes fluttered as you soaked in his words, the implications weighing down on your chest as you cast a sidelong glance his way, but he was too busy assuring that each star was observed, acknowledged and therefore real. 

“I think it felt like that for me. Like the version of me I actually understood didn’t exist because no one was willing to acknowledge it.” He confessed, his head finally lolling to the side to observe you next. Each freckle and scar, each blink and trembling lip was confirmed under his watchful eye. “I don’t think anyone’s ever seen it.”

“I see it.” You reassured in a hushed whisper. A small smile finally curled at the corners of his mouth as he nodded softly. 

“You see it.” He confirmed.

You hummed pensively, a modest smile of your own lighting your features ablaze.

“So if you closed your eyes right now— I would just cease to exist then?” You challenged his theory teasingly, wondering when the last time it was that he had gotten to speak about his passion to anyone who actually cared. Although he knew the partially philosophical theory ran much deeper than the laden explanation you were giving, he couldn’t help but indulge your challenge.

“Science is science, princess.” Satoru shrugged with a beguiled smirk. 

“So, you’re saying— ” You leaned forward to tug on his already loosened tie until it came undone. The motion had a rushing heat swirling in his chest, taking note of the way the moonlight emphasized the mischievous glint hidden in your eyes. “If I tied this thing around your eyes— poof— I’m no longer here?”

“Well, a good scientist always tests his theories, of course.” He stammered breathlessly, his legs parting to accommodate your crawling between them. His lips parted as you slowly moved the tie over his fluttering eyes, your chests brushing together while you reached behind him to secure it around his head.

Moving away from him, you leaned back to observe your handiwork. Although blindfolded, you still tilted your head with a teasing smirk as though he’d be able to see it. 

“Well?” You whispered, watching the way his chest heaved with anticipatory pants. “Am I still here?”

The aged truck creaked ever-so-slightly as Satoru shifted onto his knees, his hands reaching out blindly until they met your ankle. Using it as a guide, he carefully crawled forward, hands snaking up your body until he was hovering above you. The ends of the tie that hung from the back of his head brushed against your cheek as he leaned down closer to you.

“Not sure yet.” His hushed tone sent shivers down your spine, and you laid back to stare up at him. 

Nimble fingers trailed up to search out your face, and a tickled smile fought its way onto his lips when he grazed your nose instead on his pursuit. Although it wasn’t his target, he still brushed a featherlight touch down the bridge of your nose before moving to cup your flushed cheeks.

“Your nose is still here, cheeks are still here.” Satoru murmured each checkpoint tenderly. Humming contentedly, he brushed a few lingering hairs behind your ears, thumbing against the delicate lobes in feigned assessment. “Hair, ears…”

His face was drawing closer with each confirmation, and soon the fingers that were still tucked behind your nape pulled your head up ever so slightly until his lips brushed against yours. It was barely a graze initially, a deliberate tease that he was quickly realizing he didn’t have the willpower to keep up, quickly abandoning it in favor of molding his mouth harmoniously against yours.

“Your lips,” He sighed wantonly against you, his voice almost falling into a soft whine. “Your lips are still here— thank god.”

You giggled against him, reaching up to run your fingernails down the short, velvety hairs of his neatly kept undercut. It made him shiver, a smirk curling into your frenzied kiss as he hummed appreciatively. 

“Your hands.” Satoru continued as you pushed at his suit jacket, making him pull away from you for a moment as he shrugged it off. The very hands that he’d just confirmed the existence of didn’t pull him back down right away, instead surprising him as they worked quickly to unbutton his dress shirt, and it was soon joining his jacket in a discarded pile beside you. He clutched at your wrists maneuvering them to run your tender hands down his chest. 

And so he disproved his own theory with the eager exploration of each heaven-sent inch of you, pulling your sweater over your head to confirm the way your breasts heaved against his chest, leaning down to brush his nose and lips across each one of good measure. You aided him with fumbling shuffles to pull down your sweatpants, his desolate moan nearly breaking the resolve of your patience as he carefully inched forward to lick a strip up your folds that glistened under the moonlight in a manner he wished he could see. 

“All here, princess.” Satoru murmured near drunkenly, pressing a few sloppy kisses against your throbbing heat to elicit a few more of those bewitching whimpers from you before making his way back up to press his lips bruisingly against yours.

“And if you leave would I still be here?” You panted against his lips, reaching down to fumble with the buckle of his belt before pulling his bottoms down past the lean curve of his ass. 

“I won’t leave— I’ll never leave.” He shook his head forlornly, glistening lips falling open as you grasped at his cock. Falling forward on his elbows, his clammy forehead pressed against yours.

“Swear it.” You gasped as his tip pushed blindly into you, your moans synchronizing in blissful tandem. Through his parted lips, you could still see the way his lips twitched up at your words.

“What shall I swear by?”

Your heels dug into the cool surface of the truck bed, driving your hips up, pushing him deeper into you as he ground down, the subtle impact sending his head reeling back up to face the stars.

“Not your parents, not your last name.” Your responses began to sound like mindless babbles, but he could swear he understood each syllable as he nodded desolately in raptured agreement. The blunt edges of your short nails dug into his nape to pull him closer to you, your lips brushing once again and sharing each exhale greedily into one another’s mouths. “By you, just you, Satoru.”

“I swear.” He gasped, his hips snapping up in a brutal pursuit of your mutual intoxication. Each of your saccharine moans sent tendrils of euphoric bliss twisting down his spine, and he clutched at your waist in an attempt to ground himself as he felt his own thrusts quickly losing their focus. “I swear— ah! I swear I’ll never leave, and you’ll— ” His rapturous moans cut rudely between his oath. “— and you’ll always be here.”

“I’ll always be here.” You confirmed, brows meshing up as you watched him fall apart with the reassurance of your promise. Reaching up, you pulled the tie down to fall around his neck, his eyes finding yours in an instant as though he would be able to pinpoint their warmth even blind, and he was sure he could— he was sure he could do anything as he spilled himself into you, riding out his high with slack-jawed, lanugid grinds.

“You’ll always be here.” 

And it was true even as you two woke beside one another that next morning after you’d snuck him up to your room. The bruise around his eye had spread substantially, the injured lid now swelled completely shut, but he swore even with just one eye to behold you that you were just as stunning as you had been beneath the moon’s gracious light last night underneath of him. Sitting up on his hands, he allowed the sheets to fall down his chest as he observed the way you seemed to still shiver even under the protective layers of your sweater and thick bottoms. 

Brushing the hair from your face, he leaned down to press his lips against your temple, each of his tender kisses pulling you farther and farther away from your slumber until you stirred beneath him. He smiled when you groaned in disapproval at his interruption of your coma-like state. 

“Sorry, I just don’t want your dad to catch—”

But, much like the theory he rambled on about the night prior, his acknowledgment of the man seemed to will him right into existence with a careful knock on your door. You shot up into a sitting position, eyes wide and frantic as you moved to push against Satoru’s shoulders, attempting with fleeting hope to wrangle his large frame into the closet or perhaps under the bed. 

No attempt would be fast enough though, not with your father’s burning desire to check on you following the state that you’d gone to sleep in the night prior, and the door creaked open.

“You doing okay, sweet—”

There in the cramped bed of his daughter was the very man you had cried against him for just mere hours ago— the son of the very family that had assured you’d never hope for your own aspirations in life, far too focused on fixing his that the Gojo’s had made their life mission to ruin. An unreadable mix of emotions swirled onto his stunned face in a way that had both of you holding your breath. 

His lips parted, but he took note of the swelled, gruellingly dark bruise that surrounded his eye and branched out subtly onto the bridge of his nose. He watched the way the Satoru still clung to your hand, and how your fingers curled in uncertainty into the fabric of his open, button down shirt. He thought about how despite all that you had told him last night—  you couldn’t find it in you to speak an ill word about him, only noting to your father how scared he’d looked at a dinner table with his own parents. 

Your father’s tired shoulders slowly deflated as he sighed. 

“Why don’t you two come down to get something to eat?” With that, he shut the door, leaving the two of you in stunned silence as his boots retreated down the stairs. 

“Is that—” Satoru licked his lips anxiously, his good eye flickering frantically around the room before falling on you. “Is that code for something?

You could only silently shake your head, your gaze still fixed upon the door he’d just left through. Although your heart was still pounding relentlessly against your ribcage, it was beginning to settle with the assurance that your father was a far more merciful man than you had ever given him credit for.

The two of you slowly creeped downstairs after having gotten yourselves together, Satoru’s white hair still disheveled from your pillow as he hesitantly poked his head out to peer toward the kitchen. Your father’s back was facing him, working to flip what looked to be a pancake on the griddle before him, but he turned around upon hearing the creaks in the stairs. 

You had to give him props, because even despite his nerves surrounding his life at the moment, he still stepped forward to bow to your father in greeting, a motion that had the smallest of smiles hinting at the man’s lips. With a hum, he turned back around to plate the pancake that had finished cooking.

“My daughter tells me you're a physicist, Gojo.” He commented, taking the plate of stacked pancakes to place them on the table. 

It took him aback, as he wasn’t sure anyone had ever called him that before— ever even acknowledged the path he had chosen for himself. You watched with a soft gaze as his good eye fluttered rapidly while he blinked away the misty haze that seemed to involuntarily cloud it. With a growing smile, he nodded slowly, taking a seat in the chair your dad had pulled out for him. 

“Trying to be, sir.” He explained breathlessly before looking up at you with a tender smile. “And it’s Satoru— just Satoru.”

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Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

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