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mooishbeam · 6 months ago

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『♡』 Country Honey

♡ featuring: ranchhand!toji x richgirl!reader

♡ synopsis: a spoiled, wealthy college senior is forced to spend her summer at her father’s rural farm as punishment for her reckless behavior and slipping academic performance. unbeknownst to her, a bigger storm awaits just around the corner.

♡ wc: 16.5k+ (AHHHHHH)

♡ cw/tw: afab!reader, enemies to lovers if you squint, hurt/comfort kinda sad toji, feral toji, spanking, overstimulation, edging, sadism/masochism, throat fucking, cock worship, m/f receiving, doggy style, degradation kink, brat taming, dumbification, reader is a spoiled brat a lot of the time

notes: oh god, where do i begin...i know ive been gone for so long. firstly i want to apologize, and secondly ill explain my absence in a second post. not proofread so i apologize, honestly i shouldnt have tried a long fic for my comeback bc it took way too long to finish, but either way i hope you all enjoy! art by moonlessoul on ig! comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

“Almost there.”

The sleek luxury car your dad drives grumbles at a rocky pace over an evidently gravelly road. If you can even call it a road—rather the patchy fragments of flattened dirt eroded by heavy traffic from a forgotten time. It’s a path shrouded by southern live oak, canopying its leaves and spearing sharp rays of summer daylight through the sunroof.

You’re feeling every second of this bumpy ride. The wheels hop over an unsteady rock and your knees jab into your sternum. You’re pressed into an unfortunate position, with your legs pinched to your chest and the bright pink suitcase you insisted on bringing sandwiching you to the leather seat. You struggle to wiggle to a decent side that spares your sweltering face from the sun, but the other seats are also occupied with your luggage. And the front seat. And the trunk.

Maybe that’s why you were brought here in the first place. You’re well off to a sickening amount and you’ve made no efforts to conceal your wealth. Your dad sacrificed his golden years to foster an agricultural business in the rural south, and now you reap the rewards of his labor. You know it and spend it as such. You’ve collected a textbook of names throughout the years—spoiled, bratty, coddled, pompous—each insult savored more than the last. You embraced being a spoiled rich girl and all it had to offer. Top notch schools, waitlisted parties, designer bags, and just about any opportunity you could get your greedy hands on.

High school left like the wind and before you knew it, the 4.0 extracurricular weapon you used to be devolved into a nightlife college senior, more invested in the extravagant yacht parties than your academic probation. It was a risky misstep, but you didn’t have the heart to care when your dad could easily pay your way to graduation. At this rate you’d be a couple years behind your peers. Your dad wasn’t having any of it.

The festivities stopped. No unlimited debit card and especially no spending. This could possibly be your final senior summer, and instead of celebrating with friends you’re making up for your transgressions. The worst part is the rural retreat he’s currently driving you to with no sign of civilization for miles.

You could die right now.

“How much longer?” You drawl on the last syllable, flicking your phone on and off in hopes that a bar or two will magically appear in the top right. He glances at you through the rearview mirror, a tinge of southern, "Just a few more minutes.”

You let you phone fall from your limp hand and lean your head against the open window. Nothing but ancient trees and the occasional berry bush. You’re not sure if you should be more upset by the consequences of your actions or the actual actions that roped you into this mess. Instead of ruminating on your mistakes, you allow your eyelids to droop in the oppressive warmth.

“We’re here darling.” Your eyes shoot open. So soon, and surely not after the forest you’d been traversing moments ago. You’re able to scoot up more, the sound of stone-pathed roads rattling in your ears. You tuck your knees underneath you and lift yourself up now that the terrain was smoother, poking your torso out the window. A bane of light strikes you immediately, and you blink away its brilliance to reveal crystal blue skies.

Your mouth shapes an ‘O’, and you push your designer glasses over your forehead. “...No way” you gawk, taken by the view your father cultivated.

This is nothing like the previous tunnel, and certainly nothing like the skyscrapers you’ve grown accustomed to. It’s an endless expanse disrupted by stone and crowded with overgrown wheat, bobbing in the mild breeze. They travel up the winding hill, ducking under wooden fences to border the farmhouse. The two-story ivory home exudes simplicity, strung with hanging pothos that wrap around the spacious porch and decorative shuttered windows painted like strawberries. From your limited view you notice the large red wooden barn peeking out behind the house, and a dirt trail leading to productive areas; a small stable, cattle, and other farm animals coexist in a sector made for their comfort. Beside the home is the largest Magnolia tree you’ve ever seen, with branches extending over the pitched, fabled roof and overhanging eaves with sweeping petals. It’s purposefully overgrown and homely, a humble size incomparable to the mansion you were raised in.

Your father pulls up to the oak gate with a tattered sign overhead: Welcome to Pleasantview Farms.

The lack of security, never mind the lack of extravagance, is astonishing to you. It’s unexpected of your father—the man that required you have a designated butler all throughout secondary school. “You never told me about all this” you yell from outside the window, still gazing at distant rolling hills of dewy grass. “You never asked” he chuckles, and turns onto another hill leading up to the house. You look beneath you; patches of flowering weeds fighting their way past the pavement.

He parks in an open plot half occupied by a wheelbarrow, packed to the brim with haybales. “We’re here.” He turns the car off and steps out to open your side. Your luggage slams onto the dirt before you do, and you yelp.

“No, it’s gonna get dirty!” He laughs and brushes specs of soil off your precious bag. “And if it does, you’ll be alright pumpkin.” You groan and attempt to get out without sacrificing your hot pink slides, when your first foot gives into silt. You scream and stumble onto dry earth, leaving your phone behind to *splat* in the mud. You kick off the mud barely clinging to your shoes until you catch a glimpse of your glittery phone charm on the floor. It takes you a second to process the mud-covered device slowly descending, but when your brain synapses finally link, you expel an ear-shattering shriek. To which your dad stifles a smile at the dramatic performance.

He picks it up and wipes the debris on his ivory shirt. “One more reason for you not to have it” he says and tucks it away in his pocket while you’re struck with a permanent look of horror.

The front door swings open, and you turn to see a thin older woman. Slightly older than your father, her face is gentle and creased with living. Her hair fades from light gray to dark brown at the very tips, tied neatly into a bun with a coiled band. She removes her pale-yellow gloves and stuffs them into the back pocket of her bleached trousers, jogging up to you. “Good afternoon, Annie” he smiles, and she stretches a wide grin that nearly shuts her eyes. “Hello, sir. Is everything alright?”

“Yup, just kids being kids” he snickers and plants both hands on either side of your shoulders. “This is my daughter.”

“Good afternoon” you meek, devastated and contemplating the status of your phone. She audibly gasps and grabs your hands, and you jolt. “You’re even more beautiful in person. I’ve heard so much about you.” It’s like she’s studying your face with the way she gazes into your eyes, to which they fall onto your cheeks and hair. You’re not one to shy away from flattery, but the direct compliments spread embarrassment across your ears.

“Keep her company while I get these from the car, will you? Maybe show her around.” She nods, and leads you on an impromptu tour through the house.

“There isn’t much to see ‘round here, but I’ll try to make it interestin’ for ya” she jokes. The entryway is quaint, keeping nothing but rubber boots covered in dirt and farming tools used for today’s workload. “This where we keep what we need for today. S’just better to pick it up from the front.” You nod.

Further in, the hallways are decorated with baby pictures of you at various photoshoots. On the left side, she shows you a pastel green kitchen embellished with colorful floral paintings above the handles. Annie talks with her hands, “This is my domain. Damn near painted the whole thing. Took a lot of convincin’, but I got it eventually.”

“Do you live here?” you questioned. “We all do!”

“All?”

“Mhm”, she hums, “Me, Terrace, Lionel, and...” she trails off at the end. You’re surprised that they’re living where they work, and even more surprised that she’s all smiles while doing it. “Do you...like living here?”

“Of course! Pays well, lots'a vacation time, and everything’s compensated.” You tilt your head slightly, “Where do you guys' sleep?”

“We got our own place out back, all of us. Sweet deal, huh?” she says, patting your back. “And who was the other person that works here?” you ask.

Annie waves off the idea, stating “You don’t have to worry ‘bout him, he’s not really the talkin’ type.”

Perhaps it was her bluntness or her motherly cadence, but you quickly became comfortable with her presence dragging you around like a lost puppy. She showed you the living room that appeared to be vomited on by all things antique and vintage, and the bathroom tiled an ugly orange pattern. She led you outside, where a garden blossoming with peonies and hibiscus was trimmed carefully to adorn the pebbled path and fit around the barn. Far-out past the back gate you saw what you assumed was their living quarters, separated from miles of tillage.

By the time she finished her grand tour, you made it upstairs together to regroup with your dad. The second floor was reserved for your bedrooms and attached bathrooms. Entering your room, there’s nothing special about it. It seems like your dad attempted to buy things similar to your style, but couldn’t quite figure it out. You weren’t expecting much of anything considering this was your first—and most likely last—time being here, but it’s truly mediocre. “Whaddaya think pumpkin?”

“I love it” you choke out a lie and plop onto the red plaid bedding. Your luggage is lined up by the dresser, and you have quite the unpacking session awaiting you. Annie leans on the doorway. “I’ll let ya get settled in. We can do more in the morning.” Your dad leaves with her, and when you’re left alone stewing in the reality, you fall back onto the comforter.

One day is entertaining, you’d even call it an enjoyable experience. But the entire summer? You spend the rest of the day emptying out suitcase after suitcase, and turn in under the heavy blankets starving off a midnight chill.

You’re up before the crack of dawn, contemplating what you’ll wear as if that matters while you’re shoveling shit and carrying chicken feed. You throw on something impractical either way—a plaid button up tied to crop, tight denim shorts, and a brand new pair of shiny cowboy boots you just couldn’t resist buying when the trip was announced. You stomp your way to the back porch and are immediately hit with the bittersweet scent of humid pastures and last night’s rain within the tepid wind. It’s utterly quiet besides the distant echo of cattle and pigs, cicadas humming an airy tune. Your eyes latch onto the barn, slightly parted with a dim light going on the inside.

You recall what Annie said to you during the tour when you asked what’s in the barn: “I suggest you leave it alone, nothin’ worth lookin’ at in there.” Her clear avoidance intrigued you, and the more she dodges actual answers the more curious you become. You tread carefully on the path so you don’t alert whoever or whatever’s inside. As you plant one weightless foot over the other, you stop.

A deep, gritty voice; thick like the bark of an ancient redwood. He grunts then *chop*, followed by something solid rolling on a prickly surface. Another thick groan and another *chop*. You get closer to the barn and slide across it, practically dragging yourself against Annie’s wishes.

*Chop*

You clutch the side of the parted door.

*Chop*

You peak your head in. The two story barn houses an array of soils and tools used for farming on the bottom, and clumps of hay piled high at the top.

The older man with a mop of inky hair hangs his head low, honed in on the objective beneath him. The sharp end of the axe steadies above his head, then cuts through the air as it lands deep within the stump. He goes for another swing, beads of sweat meandering between his pecs, down the carved muscle of his abdominal and disappearing below his chiseled v-line. He digs his thick calloused fingers into the crevice and splits it. It’s as if his physique was crafted by careful hands, weaving marble like silk only Roman gods could mimic.

Your entirely distracted by the unexpected scene before you when the silence is cut by a clatter. His breaths are sharp and purposeful as he kicks it off the stand and trudges to the uncut pile of logs. You watch him with wandering eyes, taking mental notes of scars hiding underneath the fine hair spread across his torso. This isn’t the grumpy old man you imagined when Annie spoke so brazenly about him.

He hasn’t glanced at you once, despite standing right in front of the post he’s chopping on. It’s slightly aggravating. You’ve never had to ask for anyone’s attention before. You bathed in wealth, just enough to make even the snobbiest trust-fund kid turn his head. He must be blind. So, you wait until he comes to his senses, tapping your foot with your arms crossed over your chest.

And you do that...for a while. More than a few minutes pass, and you’re still standing here. You stir in the silence and methodical chopping, feeling flustered at how needy you look waiting for a man's response. A piece of wood—more important than you? Impossible. In a last-ditch attempt, you clear your throat rather dramatically. Nothing. A log rolls by your foot and the older man walks up to you only to kneel down and grab the wood before going back to his task. Heat creeps onto your cheeks. Are you fucking kidding me?

“Are you hard of hearing, mister?” you finally ask, batting your eyelashes at him. It’s a deep contrast to the irritation boiling in your stomach, so much so you have to choke back the vulgar words bubbling at the surface. He glimpses you with frosted olive eyes and swings the axe over his head. In a mild country accent he replies, “No.”

“...Oh.” You’re struck with palpable quiet once again. You’re fixed to the floor, struggling with something to say that doesn’t start with ‘fuck you’. As you’re about to open your mouth, he speaks.

“Heard ya the first time. If ya wanna talk, use your words.” You stare in utter disbelief. Was it audacity or straight stupidity? You can’t imagine anyone disrespecting their employer’s child, let alone commanding them.

“Excuse me?” He tosses the last log in the pile.

“Hm? Should I do it in a way you’ll understand?” he brings his fist to his lips, clearing his throat as you did. There’s a glint through that frost, the twinkle of an obvious shit-stirrer. You’re pissed no doubt, but the corner of your lip twitches at a challenge.

The most important tool to a wealthy family is humility. You can’t be too self-centered or prideful to strangers, dropping hints of sugary kindness as to not sour your perception. Perception is truly everything. Even so, the flowered words you’ve been taught to wield with grace wilt at the sight of him.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?” You scoff, plopping down on the stump. He wipes his dirt-dusted hands on the back of his overalls, straps dangling at his thighs. “Not sure what ya mean.”

“From what I’m getting, you’re a grumpy asshole. That description sound correct?”

“‘M only an ass when trust-fund kids call me like I'm a dog.”

“You know, the way Annie talks about you I thought you’d be some geriatric old man on his death bed! Turns out you’ve still got a couple more months in you—congrats!”

He laughs, “‘Preciate it. If I’m correct you must be papa’s spoiled little brat from the big city?”

“Mhm. Don’t worry, this was your first offense so I’ll let it slide. Remember to get on your knees when you apologize.” He pretends to ponder the idea, “Think I’ll pass. You can pick up one ‘o them bags up though and bring ‘er up to the field.”

You pause for a second, blinking. Instantly you double over with snorting laughter, the kind that tints your face and gathers tears at your lashes. You’re even clutching your stomach from how funny it is. When you come up from your fit, he’s there with his arms crossed under his chest. That’s when you realize he wasn’t joking by any means. You gape in disbelief, a chuckle still caught in your throat.

“Wait…you’re serious?” He walks over to one of the sacks and tosses it at your feet. “Well, get to work. I’ll show ya where to put it.” You purse your lips when a giggle slips, “Do you really think that’s gonna happen? Must be the age catching up with your brain.”

“I think it is gonna happen cause yer in my area. If you wanna be here, you’re gonna work. Nothin’s free ‘round these parts.” You hop off the stump and stand in front of him. Unfortunately, your attempt to size him up fails as your crane your neck to meet his gaze. “You can’t make me do anything. In fact, this is my property, and you’re here to do your job. So go do it” you terse.

“Nah, that’s not how this works. You’re on the farm now, not some bullshit country club you go to on weekends. Take yer ass to that bag and pick it up.”

You feign a pout, “Isn’t a pretty girl in your presence enough hard work already?”

“Not when she has so much mouth. The pretty ones know how to shut up.”

“I wouldn’t have so much mouth if you didn’t back talk.” He gets in close, only inches away from your face.

“Either go pick flowers, whatever girly shit you do, or do what I tell you to do.”

“I’ll tell my dad you’re forcing me into manual labor.”

“Aww, go ahead” he mocks with a smirk. He walks towards the door, wrapped in golden sunlight. Curious, you try tugging on the sack and nearly face-plant over the weight of it. There’s no way he expects you to carry it on your own. He turns back around, laced with mirth.

“By the way, name’s Toji. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

“Go do it yourself since you’re so good at it! You egotistical, selfish, brutish-”

“Pompous ass instigatin’ little-”

“-Callous disrespectful pig!”

“-Brat.”

The words topple over themselves and you both can’t get a full sentence in as insults are hurled like physical objects. The few days you’ve spent on the farm so far have been nothing short of hell, specifically around Toji. You’ve never worked this hard in your life; then again, that’s not saying much. He'd disregard your lack of general strength and enthusiasm. Sometimes he’d hold the underside of the bag to take some of the weight off, to which you often added “why don’t you just grab the whole damn thing?” A smirk and curt response were simply “Nope.”

Most days you merely dragged a few bags to the pick-up truck and spent the rest of the day lounging around the garden. You’d stumble into the kitchen, a bead of sweat barely manifesting on your brow, and complain to Annie about Toji’s evil plan to make you contribute.

Today is no different and you laze on the chair with your back bent over it, groaning in theatrical agony. Annie sits across from you funneling blueberry muffin batter into a silver muffin tin. “Yea, yea, I hear ya” she jokes.

“Annie, do something” you drawl. She throws her hands up, “Can’t. Thats on you, now.” You scrape the side of the bowl and pop a blueberry-dipped finger in your mouth.

“Don’t eat raw egg, hun” she says, turning her back to put the tray in the oven. You unconsciously take another swipe, then the door swings open. Heavy cowboy boots trail to the kitchen, and you glance at the doorway. Toji leans on it with his hands in his pockets, white tank sprinkled with grass blades.

“Shit” you mumble.

“’M lookin for ya and here you are stuffing your face.”

“The girl neva worked a day in her life an’ you want her to be your assistant” Annie jests.

“’S about time, ain’t it? We’re not done yet. C’mon.” You let out another reluctant groan and follow behind him. “This is bullshit, nobody does this on a normal day.”

“Yea, nobody you know.”

In front of the wheelbarrow bags upon bags are filled to the brim with juicy red apples and the truck is just a few feet away. Your eyebrow twitches imagining the weight in your arms. “You can go fuck yourself if you think-” before you can finish your sentence, a bag is dropped into your arms that briefly sends you to the ground. Toji picks up two and flings them over his back. “What? Too weak?” He walks to the truck, ignoring the glare burning holes in the back of his head. Too weak, my ass. You definitely couldn’t beat him in a fight, but you damn sure wouldn’t let him talk down on you after proving your competence. You pull it up and haul it backwards, not without a few mild choice words.

“Jerk.”

The pungent odor of slurry and trough feed overcome any habitable air near the pig farm. The clothespin you have clamped around your nose barely blocks the smell. It’s the middle of the day, rays rippling heat off the stench and sending it for miles. Your cowboy boots struggle to sit upright on the uneven terrain blanketed with mud.

You don’t dare to open your mouth and complain in fear of it invading your sinuses. It’s your fault for nagging endlessly about the “back-breaking” work Toji forced you to do. your criticisms were met with some rendition of “suck it up”, and arguing only went in circles. Consistent arguing—from the moment you woke up to the last minutes of your shift, where you mouthed off one too many times for his liking. When you threatened to find another shift with someone else, he laughed in your face, a “good luck” drowning in derision.

Eventually Terrace got word of your grievances and offered part of his work to you. You accepted too soon without consulting Annie, happy to just rub it in Toji’s face that he’d be on his own carrying the bags. Simply the concept of it—Toji hunched over and covered in sweat with heaps of cargo—satiated your pride, and you’d count the days until he groveled and begged for your help again.

Except that’s not the case. As you fight the urge to sink into the mud a seed of regret grows in a more reasonable part of your mind. You could ask for your position back, where he’d probably be waiting with that shit-eating grin of his and “I told you so” written all over his face. Or you could be stubborn and prove whatever point you’re trying to make. Stupidly headstrong, you swallow the urge to vomit and plod into the pig pen.

The squelch of damp earth and God-knows-what underneath your boots is enough to make you sick. You’re balancing two full buckets of pigswill on either side of you, resisting the lack of steadiness that causes you to lean unfavorably. It’s no help that there’s filthy pigs all around you, snorting and trotting along. One bumps into the bucket and you shriek; your foot goes airborne and impending doom flashes before your eyes. Luckily, you gain stability and plant it firmly into the ground with an awful bubbling noise. The mess has soiled your boots coming up to your calves, and you frantically check for mud-to-skin contact. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it’d definitely be the end of your day. Suddenly, a whistle from the other side of the wooden fence grabs your attention.

“Go on then, pig queen!” Toji yells, elbows propped on the edge. His accent gets thicker when he yells. He’s not affected by the smell in the slightest, and it almost looks like he’s breathing in extra hard to taunt the shortage of oxygen reaching your brain.

“Fuck you!” you yell in a nasally tone. He adjusts his cowboy hat, “I’d focus on what’s in front of ya. Wouldn’t wanna slip in shit, right?” You scoff and continue to the troughs.

You can’t imagine how Terrace, let alone anyone does it—from the constant clamor of livestock to sinking in pools of muck for hours. There’s dirt on your knees, clothes, in places you never imagined dirt could reach. The pigs seem excited as you place the pails on the rim, whereas you exert a long sigh for the fulfilled trek. They come running in unison as if something triggered in their brains, pushing past each other to get there first. Once they’re emptied, a partial weight lifts from your shoulders. You shoot an arrogant sneer at Toji, and watch the corner of his scar tip up just a little. You’re still pinned to the side, and a wet snout gently prods your exposed leg. It tickles and you laugh at its cluelessness. “Hey, I’m not on the menu.”

As you slither out the crowd, a sneaky puddle attempts to take you out. You cling to the embarrassment, to Toji standing right there ready to mock you. You won’t give him the satisfaction. From there you take careful steps, one cautious foot after the other. Toji meets you around the entrance, and you’re about to reach the gate. You’re oozing confidence now; you might even brag to your father about the effortlessness of it all, that living on a farm is nothing, that you were able to accomplish anything—

Slip. Crash!

You’re knocked clean off your ass, so fast it doesn’t register until a few blinks pass. You hold a breath and the blurriness fades.

Brown. It’s on your face.

It’s truly everywhere—mud sloshing around in your boots, seeping into your clothes, sticking to the crevices, your fingers intertwined in the mass below.

The emotion you try to stifle boils over into a horrified squeal, a tune that exceeds the pigs. And you scream and scream. Once for the mud and twice for the death of your designer boots. You’re so entwined in your own screams that you barely catch the laughter a few feet away.

It’s him, doubled over with a practically red face. “I get you wanna be one of the pigs but you don’t hafta roll in it too!” Toji chortles. He can’t contain himself, wiping the tears on his glove.

Your ears feel hot. “Shut the fuck up and get me out of here!”

“Relax, relax. Gimmie a second.” The footsteps get further away, and you stumble to the gate to open. It doesn’t matter now that the damage is done, and you look like some terrifying swamp monster from myth. The lower half of you could only be concocted in a child's nightmares.

Something snakes in the trampled grass, then it pauses. “Here.” Sooner than you can turn your head, you’re blasted with water. It rains on you like a thundershower and you cover your face from the assault. Denim weighs heavy, and your hair sticks to your face. You feel the dirt washing off, but now you’re soaked in a mixture of water and sodden debris. Wet, you’re spitting out water and treating your fingers like windshield wipers. The hose finally drops, and your eyes trail from the hand to the face.

That shit-eating grin.

“No need to thank me, miss piggy.”

Your lip twitches. Should you kill him? Absolutely. Is it worth it? In this moment, yes. You’re doused, dirty, nose blind, and no longer hanging on to your act of humility. You have to get him back, at least once. It doesn’t matter if you have to wait all summer for it, creeping in doorways for the perfect time to demean him. There’s no level playing field—either your way or nothing. A smile stretches across your face.

“You’re so right, darling. Now let me show you just how much I appreciate you.” You saunter to him, and he awaits with open arms. Before he can grab you, you dodge him and snatch the hose from the ground.

Aim and fire, full force directly at his face. The blast knocks his hat off and into the air, swaying in the balmy breeze. His arm falls short of snatching it, plopping into the pen to blend with shit. You can’t hear the muffled curses he spouts, but damn is it satisfying to silence him. Then he reaches for you to which you promptly escape his span. You take time hosing down any remaining dry spots, and once the hose is down, he launches. You yelp and return to his face, and the abruptness makes him slip. Right into the mud you just shook off, he lands butt-first. It splatters his cargo pants and creates polka dot patterns on the white tank stretching to accommodate his frame. “You little-”

Another burst of water. He tries to stand on slippery foundation and quickly falls, earth splashing back on him. You understand why he was laughing so hard and you can’t stop giggling at the misery of inescapable rain showers.

“Looks like you needed some too! I can smell you from here!” you laugh. His snicker comes off more conniving than it should, and you brace for whatever hell you’ll have to pay later. He bolts up, and you make a run for it. Just when he thinks he has you, he slips again.

“Poor grandpa! Someone get his life alert!” you cackle, dropping the hose and sprinting for the hills. You’re too afraid to turn around when you know for a fact he is mere feet away from capturing you. You cut through air, nothing but crumpling grass and laughter carried by the wind. It’s exhilarating...fun?

You're confused by your own actions. You smell horrible, your hair is sticky, disgusting slop clings to you like a second skin, the sun is only baking the scent, and your self-proclaimed rival is chasing you.

You should be mortified, and somehow, you’ve never felt better.

Motes of dust scatter within the golden hue of mornings wake. The window’s cracked open, and remnants of last night's chill carry through sunrise. You’ve sat in this claw tub for way too long, melting in steam and lavender bubbles that slowly dissipate the longer you linger. A self-care day is what you need, especially after the “incident” that still makes your skin crawl weeks later. Simply your mud mask, waning candles, and rustling leaves. It’s rare you get silence like this nowadays, with Toji constantly on your back bickering about trivial problems.

You can’t place your finger on what bothers you more, or if you’re really even bothered at all. Ironically, spending more time mulling over what you hate than actually hating him. You can mouth your contempt for him endlessly like an affirmation on deaf ears, but it never truly manifests.

He’s annoying, selfish, crude, and disrespectful.

Oh, and did I mention very annoying?

It’s almost a bonding experience between you two; you’ve memorized the way his lips curve before a snarky remark, the deep crease on one side of his eyebrow when they furrow at something stupid you unintentionally did, his jaw clenching from held back words. His laugh—deep and resounding, unleashing a toxic mix of vomit and thrill in your stomach. You anticipate it, practice your insults in the shower for it, as if...you’re actually looking forward to it?

You steep further into the fragrant bath, hoping you’ll somehow be sucked into an alternate reality where you don’t have to face those conflicting emotions. To your displeasure, the conflict is brought directly to you.

A roaring engine disrupts your personal spa, and you jolt up. It sounds like a monster truck convention decided to congregate right below your bathroom window, and you definitely can’t relax under these conditions. You loosely wrap the towel around yourself and peer out over the windowsill. You can’t see a face, but you see that distinct cowboy hat stained over its silver conchos.

“Hey!” you yell. No response, but how could you expect him to when the hood is propped up. He must be wrenching something inside judging by the way his back muscles methodically tighten.

“HEY!”

“TOJI!” That gets his attention and he squints above, wrench still in hand. “Oh! What are ya doing there?”

“This is my bathroom you idiot!”

He pans between the vehicle and your window. “Oops!”

“Turn it off, I’m trying to have my beauty bath in peace!”

“Welp, can’t do anything about that now, can we?” He makes no attempt to turn it off, nor does he give you any more attention as he turns around and resumes working like nothing happened.

You run downstairs completely haggard, mud mask hardly washed off with a pair of mismatched socks and a baggy shirt. The rumbling gets louder, and you don’t have the patience for appearances when you step into those clod-smeared boots.

The screen door swings open and you march to the side of the house, towel bunched in your arms.

He doesn’t regard you until you launch it at his face, which he promptly catches without looking. “Thanks, needed somethin’ to dry off.” He wipes the oil streaks from his face and neck while you stand there scowling. His eyebrows narrow.

“What’s the problem now?” You should've predicted he’d say this, as every time a dispute arises over his uncivil actions he asks the same clueless question.

“What...God, you’re so annoying sometimes! Do you not understand how it doesn’t make any sense for you to be here and-” He’s spacing off, scratching the side of his head with the wrench. It drives you up the wall when he acts like this.

“Listen to me!” That triggers him back to the present, and the light flickers in his eyes just to deadpan you. “You done?”

“No, I’m not done. Say you’re sorry” you command. He takes the hat off his head and places it on his chest. “My apologies, princess. I’ll be sure to call the company and let them know their machine is too loud for your prissy little ass” he smiles, coy and bowing. You nudge him and the wind rushes from his nose.

“When you call them, let them know their piece of shit junk needs to be out of commission.”

“Well, this piece of shit lasts a lifetime.”

“What even is this?” You’re analyzing it, and it reminds you of the illegal three-wheelers certain people ride through the city. It has no seatbelt or roof, and a row of sharp spinning blades hooked to the back.

“City girl’s never heard of this, huh? ‘Sa tiller. Gets the job done durin’ plantin’ season.” You step towards it, but Toji stops you from going further with his arm. “Don’t go near the blades.”

“Obviously.” You shoo him and climb into the seat of tiller. You sink into the leather seat, lay back, and cross your feet on the wheel. Toji grimaces, but that subtle sign that you’re inconveniencing him eggs you on.

“Get yer feet off the wheel.”

“Mm, nah. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“’S hurting me.”

“Hmph, okay.” You switch your feet to the opposite cross, and he looks up to an invisible God, probably begging it to give him the strength to not throw you off.

“What did I-”

“Sorry, can’t hear you over the engine!” you scream. He sighs and hunches back over the hood. “Jus’ be quiet for me, have to finish this.” Funny how he asks for quiet in these deafening circumstances.

You didn’t plan on watching him work, but you hate to admit it’s kind of interesting. It’s the quietest he’s ever been, sweat trickling down his temples from the apparent heat on the inside. This must’ve been what Annie meant at the beginning, about his silence and reluctance to speak unless being spoken to. The scars scattered on his bicep shift with the cranking wrench, and you can’t help but focus on it. They’re too deep to be cat scratches and healed with a bunched sheen under its darker edges. There’s one under his collarbone, too, peeking past his shirt neckline dark and jagged. Your mind wanders, for the past life he had—what was his family like, why does he choose to live here, why are there so many scars, what led him to-

“You’re staring.” You snap out of it, to him wiping the excess oil on his shirt.

“Sorry.”

“Oh? Where’d that hospitality come from all of a sudden?” You can’t explain why, but there’s a solemn pit burning in your stomach. Perhaps you’d lighten up a bit, at least for now. “Appreciate it while it lasts” you remark. He grins and gets back to work.

“What are you doing?”

“Changin’ the ignition coil. That’s why she sounds like hell.”

Your ears perk up, “She?”

“Yup.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Nope.”

“Can I name her?” He puts the replacement coil on, “Knock yourself out.”

“Hmm…how about….Priscilla?” He can’t purse his lips quick enough to stop the laugh that escapes.

“Hey! I think Priscilla’s a cute name” you add. “Yeah, for an old woman.”

“No way, an old woman name would be something like ‘Gertrude’.”

“Gertrude’s on the same level as Priscilla.”

“Either way it’s fitting, isn’t it? An old woman for an old man.” His scar tips up. “Ha ha. Think I’m pretty fit for an old man, though.”

Your eyes reluctantly snap to his chest muscles peeking through the shirt. “You manage.” He pushes the coil away from the flywheel.

“Maybe Rosy? Oh, or Susie.”

“Think I’ll just call ‘er (Y/N).”

“Huh? Why my name?”

“So when you make me mad, I can curse her out instead of you. Best part is she won’t talk back.” He tightens the last screws and shuts the hood. Immediately the banging stops, and the engine reduces to a whir. You clap sarcastically, “Nice job! You get a C minus.”

“Why not an A?”

“You’ll get an A when you stop pissing me off.”

Sticky sunbeams melt and mold into your pores, stiff from the aftereffects of its suffocating warmth. The sky gives way to a heatwave, where shimmering hot sheets scorch the ground and ripple like a retreating ocean. Lionel taught you how to harvest fruit before the rooster’s crow, and you reaped the rewards of your labor all morning. You’re numbed to the moisture collecting on your face at this point, as its vicious, stuffy humidity swallows your breaths and envelops your bleary eyes. You chose to shut them over battling the sun, bathing in its essence. It would settle in the late afternoon and blend to a forgiving mess of sunset swatches, but in the meantime, you’d soak up a bronzing tan.

You brought a blanket to the nearest tree you could find, an expansive canopy spearheading small manageable daylight. You’re leafing through the pages of a non-fiction novel you never finished with a makeshift flower bookmark tucked under your thumb. You occasionally stop to dive in the compensation for your earlier efforts; a basket of scarlet strawberries twisted around prickly stems.

The book tugs from your grasp and you prop up your sunglasses, gazing at the perpetrator.

It only takes a glance to notice how badly burnt Toij’s body is. Does he really need someone to remind him to apply sunscreen, a basic necessity, or did he get too wrapped up in his work again? Toji was, if nothing else, a hard worker. You caught yourself on more than one occasion observing him. You saw it in the way the other farmers freely asked for his help, and how he’d give it for nothing in return. He moved like the wind, stoic demeanor all consuming, to behave like the rough muteness he pushed upon himself.

A rosy shade diffuses on the apples of his cheeks and clearly separates from the protected and unprotected parts of his flesh. Its shape outlines a tank top he must’ve been wearing with the bottom hiked up, bright rubescent pattern surrounding his surprisingly smooth pecs. You take a mental note to nag him about it next time. The smudged outline of your glasses reflects on his glistening lower abdomen and his chest heaves like a marathon in the desert.

“What ya reading?” he asks. His eyes drag across the page. “None of your business” you retort, hazy and lax from summer’s embrace. He peers over the book and passes it off to you.

“Don’t seem like the reading type.” He plops down on the grass with a basket of dirt and carrots, few contorted to an inedible extent. “Neither do you.” He digs his fingers in the basket and begins fishing out the deformed carrots. The usual banter, macerated by exhaustion, ghosts by with little intent.

“If you’re looking for help, I don’t feel like it.”

“I know.”

You both don’t say anything for a while, taking in the warmth, the cicadas buzzing in a faraway tree, the brewing pause between your bodies, unsaid words binding you to selfish outcomes, depriving you of your deepest hunger. The book is no longer as interesting as you remember. You’re more inclined to watch the sunburnt farmer.

He picks up another clump. Inching along the carrot is a ladybug. Toji regards it for a second with the same eyes that chop trees and drag metal. At first, he does nothing. Then you track the tip of his finger as it prods slightly, goading the ladybug onto it. He carries it with the same unwavering stoicism to a blade of grass, where the ladybug hops off and continues its journey.

Speechless would be an understatement. Truthfully, he’s the last person you’d expect to act that way. Those battered palms, bruised and scarred, tattered with memories, could appear so gentle. Those same hands would afford the fragile beings of mankind a moment of mercy. Only you are granted the privilege of Toji’s micro movements; his shoulders slumping from their usual solidity, his eyelids relaxing, jaw unclenching. Is this what he wanted you to see? Is that why he came here, sitting in the shade of a rival you thought you had? You must be staring for too long because-

“…What?”

“Oh. Uh, nothing.”

He returns to what he was doing.

“It’s about the search for meaning in life. A psychiatrist's perspective.”

“Your book?” He asks, sifting through the sod.

“Yeah.”

“So…did he figure it out?”

“He believes that the primary human drive is not pleasure, but the pursuit of what we find meaningful.” He doesn’t react, but a curious part of you wanted him to respond. Tell you a story or spill his guts, lay bare in front of you so that you may latch on to something, anything that isn’t rumors or hushed whispers for the man unknown to everyone. He checks another carrot—it’s as if he’s looking past it, like a light switched off, engulfed in a reflection pulling him further and further.

You point the tip of a strawberry to him and his attention diverts, “You want?”

“Can’t. Hands full.”

You eye them; thick and calloused, fingernails lined with soil, probably sore along with the rest of his body. You can’t bear to watch—surely not because you care, but because of your sudden aptitude to kindness.

“Just come here.” He leans over cautiously, and the shock is palpable when you press it to his lips. He seems to contemplate the risk of poison for a second.

“If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve happened already. Open.” He obediently parts his mouth, and you feed it to him. Toji’s eye contact stuns like a spell from a Greek myth—devastatingly enchanting and hard to disengage. Just when you think you have the upper hand, you’re quickly reminded that dynamic can easily change. He rolls his tongue over the bite mark and sucks the juices, and you can’t look away—you won’t.

It’s the sun. it has to be. It’s getting to you both.

You flinch when his lips ghosts against your knuckles. Soft and slightly chapped. Sugary liquid pools at the plush center of his lips where your eyes linger for too long, and he licks that up too. It’s over as quick as it began. Then you’re stuck stirring in the disarray of your own deluded thoughts.

His scar curls with a growing smirk. It’s a shallow cut, but sunken, nonetheless. You tell yourself it’s the weather when your thumb moves from the strawberry to his face. Languid, careful motions where the hollow of his cheek would be, like gaining the trust of a wild animal. He doesn’t budge, and you press it to the corner of his mouth.

“How’d you get this mark on your face?”

“Not important” he responds curt.

“Why? I wanna know.” His jaw clenches, reappearing stiff and guarded. “Don’t push it.”

You trace it, fixating, studying the feeling. You drag downwards, tugging it slightly.

“…like someone cut you” you mutter.

Suddenly, he stands up with the basket. His joy fades to indifference; eyes encased in a dense fog. You retreat to your side, and he doesn’t acknowledge you as he starts down the hill.

“I-“

“I have to get this to Lionel. See ya.”

You’re given the back of him, receding into the distance. There’s a dull pounding in your ears, a twitch in your limbs that pleads for you to follow. But what would you say? What could you say? It doesn’t come to fruition.

The space between you widens with each step.

“-we’re expecting to see cloudy skies and storms for the re-” the portable radio buzzes in and out of connection, “-prepare for the weather by-”. Annie fiddles with the tuner to get it back on track. It crackles and scratches, but the connection can’t be regained, finally diminishing to static.

You weren’t listening either way, huddled with your knees close to your chest on the window seat, resting your head as raindrops trickle down the glass and pitter-patter the windowsill. The trees bend to the will of the raging wind, and they’re being pulled every which direction. Ceramic settles behind you, and you crane your neck to Annie, then the novelty mug resembling an orange. You don’t reach for it, but you stare for a while, teabag bleeding burgundy under the millions of candles placed around.

“Thank you for the tea.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You’ve had a hard time sleeping lately. Conflictingly so, since you’d imagine more sleep would be had with Toji coming around less. It’s what you wanted. Him chasing you was exhausting, wasn’t it? His behavior, his manners, him—it was just a bother. You should be glad you haven’t seen him since the incident.

If he pained you, why are you kept awake, fumbling with the covers, incessantly thinking of Toji? You put together witty remarks for when you cross paths again, new creative insults, schemes you’ll act out to piss him off—all of this for someone you tried to get away from for half the summer. You assumed a week would pass and everything would be back to normal. But one week turned into two, then three. Your stay is coming to a close, and as you reflect, you’re forced to reconsider the unspoken reality gnawing at your thoughts since the moment you first met.

That you were free to be dirty, to curse, to learn, to get mud on your face and dirt underneath your fingernails. You could lounge in an outfit from days ago or dance in the fury of midsummer. You were stupid, but not inferior the way wealthy upperclassmen made you out to be. You had the freedom to be stupid. There were no hierarchies or social status between you—simply hard work and hostility. Somehow that, being tangled in the thorns of a never-ending war, felt better than the yacht parties you’d been accustomed to.

He sets your blood aflame, but noting ignites a fire in you like Toji.

Annie sits crisscross on the loveseat, warming her hands with the cup. You return her content smile.

“Everythin’ alright, sugar?”

“Think I messed up.”

“Hm? How so?”

“I feel like...I overstepped. Actually, I know I did, and I feel bad. Even though I think I shouldn’t.”

Annie exhales a soft laugh, “Assumin’ this is about Toji?”

You nod, and she traces the rim of the cup. “If ya don’t care about ‘im, don’t feel bad.” You don’t reply, and she continues, “Though...I have a sneaky suspicion you care more than you'd like to admit.”

You bury your head further into you. “Feelings are weird” you mumble.

“They defnintely are. But sometimes it’s good to listen to ya heart. Take it from an old lady.”

“...”

“When ya feel bad about somethin’ ya did, the best way’s to apologize.”

You peek through your arms, “Has he ever told you? Like, about his life?”

She wanders in thought, recollecting an old memory, “Nope. Youngin’ showed up on the farm one day all scratched up and been workin’ ever since.”

If nobody knew, you wouldn’t expect him to comply with your demands. You’re conscious of what needs to be done, but doubt surfaces. What does my heart tell me?

You start tying your boots and throw on a hoodie in a pile by the door.

“Do you know where he is?”

“Not a clue.” That’s fine. Today, you’d be the one chasing after him.

The brunt of the storm smacks you in the face once the door flies open. “Careful out there!” she hollers, and you shut the screen behind you. Your fight or flight refuses to let go of the knob as the squall persists, invoking a shrouded sea of churning clouds and indigo, banging against the foundation of the house. You scale the side and notice the barn, no light inside. You go around the back and it’s the same, wheat failing to resist the storm. However, for a split second you squint and spot a flicker. It’s faint and the size of a firefly from your view, coming from the stables further down. There’s a chance it isn’t him, but you don’t have much room for hypotheticals.

The safety of the overhang leaves you, and you’re in the middle of a downpour. Running, inching the line of being knocked off your feet from an abrupt gust. You’re submerged in seconds, but you don’t stop running. If your heart tells you to endure, then you will. Raindrops threaten to invade your eyes, whacking you repeatedly in the face, but you shut tight and go forward. The last stretch to the stable feels like clawing up a mountain. The flurry hauls your clothes, and your steps get heavier and heavier as nature batters the earth.

Then the sleeve shielding your face grazes something solid. You glue yourself to the side of it and pry your eyes open. An oil lantern, shining bright in the dark. You shuffle around for the sliding door and slip inside. The interior is cozy, haybales piled wherever they could fit and a couple large wooden stables supported by beams. The power must’ve went out everywhere, oil lanterns casting dimly.

Your instinct to breathe ceases when you see Toji. His cowboy hat is tilted back, paisley bandana tied loosely around his neck with an ear of wheat tucked in his teeth. He glances at the sound of the door slamming. You’re blanking, even after you mulled over those sleepless evenings. It doesn’t help that your heart won’t function properly.

“...Hey” he says, a tone unrepresentative of his avoidance. He grins—in the exact way you like—and picks the straw out.

You’re irritated he’s even attempting to talk to you as normal.

“It’s rainin’. You should be inside.” He grabs his shirt and pats your face dry. You don’t complain; a musky scent of cedar and salt when you inhale. “I could say the same to you. Why are you out here?” you murmur through the cloth.

“Horses get a little antsy when the weathers like this. Came by to calm em’ down.” He pets the blonde mane of one of lighter horses, covered in brown spots. They look comfortable around him, loose lower jaw slanting to his touch. You’re forgetting how to talk. There he goes again, subverting your expectations.

“What kind of horse is it?”

“Spotted draft horse. She’s real gentle, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“She’s pretty.” He flashes his canines, “Her name’s Marie.”

“Old woman name” you say under your breath. He laughs. “Wanna pet ‘er?”

You’re shy but interested, shuffling closer to the stable. The tips of your ears blossom when his palm encloses your wrist, rough skin abrading yours. Then he guides you to the side of Marie’s neck. “You’re gonna pet here. Nice an’ slow, yeah?” he instructs, way too close. It’s silky, and you’re absorbed in the feeling of it on your fingertips. She neigh’s mildly and you jolt. Toji keeps you still.

“Atta girl” he whispers, husky and painfully smooth in your ear. It fills your head like a shot of whiskey and a tipsy glow flows from your face. Your muscles tense, troubled from your anticipated apology and the unforeseen shift in feelings for him. There’s no way you can do this without stumbling.

“I didn’t know you liked horses so much.” He lets go.

“Yup. Used to have one.” You turn to him. His pleasant expression remains, but it’s solemn, bittersweet. You take a long breath and let it spill.

“I’m sorry for what I did before. I realized I made you uncomfortable asking those questions. It won’t happen again.”

He subdues his hum and he’s awkward in his stance, rubbing the back of his head like a guilty child. “I was never mad. I just...” He trails off.

“Never mind that. Big man still pissed at you?” he asks, like mood switch occurred. If he won’t dwell on it, you’ll try not to either. You connect the dots to your father's pet name.

“That’s what you call him?” you giggle.

“Yup, since I got to the farm.”

“I hope not, if he is I’ll probably never leave.”

“Is that a bad thing?” It’s a humorless joke, wavering someplace unsure.

“It would be if I never finished school.”

“What ya majoring in?” You’re hesitant to say for the possible doubt he’ll display. You dance around the answer.

“Promise you won’t laugh.” His expression contorts to confusion. “Fine...I promise.”

“Humanitarianism.” He goes blank like a mannequin, and by the way his lip fights a flit he’s holding in his laughter as much as possible.

“Forget it-”

“I didn’t laugh. What ya gonna do with your degree?”

“I want to help people.”

He folds his arms over his chest, “But you don’t wanna help me?”

“N-not that kind of help. Like, housing help, financial help. No one should have to work as hard as you...”

“So, you wanna help old broke runaways like me, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I mean it’s admirable, darlin’, but I work here cause I want to. ’S a good gig, takes the mind off o’ things.”

Your mouth moves before your brain, “...What things?”

“Thought you weren’t gonna ask me shit like that anymore.”

“My bad.”

“I’ll give you what you want.” He locks the gate to the stable. Your blood feels hotter when he’s fixed on you.

“Y’know...the thing about foster care is you’re never guaranteed a good home, or even a home at all.” Toji simpers out of place, out of tune like a broken piano. “I was one of the lucky few that got sent home to home. Got attached just to get thrown back in the same shithole with the other rejects. It hurt at first, but after a while you get so used to the feeling that you’re not wanted or needed. And when a foster kid grows out of the system and they throw your ass on the street, gotta get it however you can.” Though he tells it like the casual reminiscence of childhood, you know better than that.

“So, I taught myself to survive, no matter the cost and regardless of who it hurt. I’ve done some irredeemable shit. Held people at gunpoint, beat them up for money, stole their valuables, all the shit they worked hard for.”

“I fought for food, shelter. Hell, anything I could get my hands on. I never killed anyone but damn sure got close, all for an overnight motel stay and sometimes a couple cigs.” He ambles to you and you automatically back up. Your space is squeezed to capacity, and whenever you get a portion of relief, he seals it. You take a step; he takes one more.

“You wanted to know how I got this, right?” He taps the corner of his mouth where the scar is.

“I entered a fighting ring for money, the kind that trades boxing gloves for knives. And boy, was I desperate. He chucked that blade at my mouth and I crushed his throat, sliced him across the eyes. I bled for a while but it kept me full for a few days.” Your back hits the door and he cages you.

“‘Ventually the wanted flyers started coming out. Thought about turning myself in, but what kind of asshole admits to his crimes? So, I kept running, running from everything. I can’t remember how long I went for. But then I ended up here.”

Rain pelts the roof. You remind yourself to inhale and exhale. It’s a conscious thought, in and out, processing the secrets revealed. There’s nowhere to hide, yet you don’t feel unease—solely the faint pang of sorrow. Toji appears warm under the rich glimmer. The rugged contours meld to his lowered gaze, lips twisted in a frown you hardly recognize. He looks entirely different, disconnected from your quarrels. To you this feels like it should be an attempt at intimidation, but the way he's boxing you in screams loose and unsteady. A wounded beast bearing its fangs as a defense mechanism. His arms are corded in muscle and riddled with injuries, likely from the upsets, days of begging for food, wondering when his next meal will be or if he just consumed his last, where he will go to survive, how he will survive.

“Are you scared now?”

He’s a vagrant. He lived on the fringes of society, avoiding the law and committing horrific acts for his own benefit. He hurt people. Who’s to say he wouldn’t hurt you next? Annie was right. Toji is right. You need to be afraid.

Instantly, his little quirks made sense. The barriers he built and his hesitation to speak, forbearing and tolerant in spite of the bruises. He was afraid of being thrown away again, to be the same teen casted to the streets—proven useless.

You’re inches away. It’s unsaid, begging you to repel him. There’s no rationale in your actions.

You stand on your toes and catch his lips in a kiss.

Brief, charged with the comfort that got lost on your tongue. His lips requite yours and leave traces of bourbon. You didn’t know he drank. It’s so brief you linger in the aftermath of heat, hoping you can satiate your interest with two, maybe three more kisses.

Your noses graze each other. His half-lidded eyes captivate you, freezing you in time, to plinking mist and airy touches, yearning on the brink of impulse. He hovers over your lips, shuddering on the expel. Then he withdraws.

“Ya have no sense of danger.”

You can’t think straight, haven’t been able to for some time now. “You’re not scary. Just annoying.”

“...I'm glad.”

He grabs his sherpa lined jacket off a haybale and wraps it around your torso. It’s far too big and pieces of hay poke your lower back. He pulls the hood over, “This should be good. C’mon, let’s get ya back in the house.” Toji opens the stable doors. Tiny droplets percolate at your frigid feet, and you stick your head out.

Fog clings to the edge of the horizon. The storm ended, and the land washed anew.

“Ouch.”

“Careful, hun.”

The sewing needle pricks your thumb from the other side of the glove again and you flinch, though you probably have tons of holes in your skin at the moment. You’re by no means the best at sewing, but it’s not like Toji could do any better based on the tears in the leather. You’re curled like a shrimp on the dining chair, weaving the needle through a heavy-duty fabric you found in the sewing basket Annie gave you. Floral pin cushions, yarn, thread, and bunches of fabric are splayed across the gingham table.

It’s likely Toji would’ve slaved it to the bone and never ask for another pair, so when you got to your room and found them in the jacket pocket you felt inclined to assist. Plus, it’s a good distraction from the half-embarrassment half-shock you grieved from your boldness the other day.

A draft pierces the chiffon curtains. It’s getting colder and the final day of your vacation has arrived, both short and torturously long. You think about the things that passed the time, the person that shortened your days to summertime laughter and mischief. Before the farm, you would’ve relished in a going away party with a performer and glittering spotlight. Yet, as cattle moo and land are tilled for the upcoming season, the profoundness of being ordinary is more pleasant than the former.

You pull the last thread through the patch and admire your amateur mend, navy fabric accented amongst the mahogany leather. Vanilla and lemon permeate the house while a bundt cake rises in the oven.

Annie hands you a few stationery notecards smudged with flour fingerprints. “Write somethin’ nice for ‘em. Don’t think they’ll be able to say goodbye before you go. ‘S gettin’ busier and busier nowadays.” You nod and start writing messages of appreciation for Lionel and Terrace, thanking them for putting up with your cluelessness.

“Should I write one for you, too?”

“You can jus’ tell me now” she beams.

“Well, Annie, thank you for everything—for showing me around, cooking for everyone, making sure we’re all healthy and full. Most of all, thanks for treating me like family.”

She tussles your hair, “You’ll always be family, honeybun.”

Hooves on stone trot near the house and your heart skips a beat. You walk to the screen door and see Marie’s long mane, then Toji holding the reins. He looks like a true cowboy, double stitched western belt with a taut plaid flannel and chestnut cowboy hat to match his boots. You open the door and lean on the porch column.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he calls.

“Usually, guys say that when they have an expensive car.”

“Well, this here’s an expensive horse. That good enough for ya?”

“...I guess it’ll have to do” you say, continuing to Marie with a delicate caress on her neck.

He holds his hand out, “Up.”

“To where?”

“Stop askin’ so many questions.” You roll your eyes and grab his wrist. He abruptly hauls your body weight over Marie and you squeak. It's higher than you thought and you struggle to adjust your legs in the right position on the saddle.

“Might wanna hold on.”

You scoff, “I can handle myself.” As soon as you say that, Marie breaks into a sprint. You would’ve flown off the mare if not for your flailing arms finding safety around Toji’s waist. “You did that on purpose, you ass!” you scream.

“I have no idea what ya talkin’ ‘bout.” You can hear the smile when he says that.

Hammered dirt belches behind as you leave a thick forest similar to the one you drove through for your arrival. It’s a scene from a storybook, carving through a colorful meadow bursting with wildflowers. They teeter in the headwind and so do you, hair whipping onto your face from the speed. The canopy that once enveloped you becomes a faint, fading outline against the sky and bushes shrink to specks. The landscape melts like an impressionism painting.

Toji has expert control over the mare and his stature stands tall in spite of haste. You scale the hills, appreciating the natural foundation carving willowy trees, the miles of foliage, the cattails in a small sparkling river etched in a meandering bank. Birds sing their evening songs, and an animal rustles through the grass. Eventually you pause at the summit, immersed in a vast, unspoiled scenery stretching infinitely. Toji hasn’t said much, but neither do you.

“I thought you’d wanna see this” he mutters.

“How come?”

“When ya weren’t working, you’d just climb to the hilltops and... stare. Never knew what you were staring at, but I assumed it was the view.”

“You don’t see stuff like this in the city. It’s so peaceful here.”

“It never gets old.” You look at him, corners of his mouth mellow. You recall the way they felt and butterflies involuntarily bloom from a deep pit in your stomach.

You yank the hat from his head and try it on. “Hey, give it here.” You duck his grasp and push it down.

“It looks cute on me.”

“So what?”

“You don’t think it matches my shoes?”

“I think you’re a brat.”

“Hmm” you say, feigning contemplation. “You should know, women don’t like angry old men. It’s so uncute.”

“Heh, really. I’m uncute?” he laughs. “Yeah, among a few other things.”

“Well I’m sorry, princess, but you’re a real pain in the ass too.”

“The feeling’s mutual” you retort.

“...Is it?” You don’t have a remark for that. The sun recedes into the horizon, radiating burnt orange and red. He uses the reigns to guide Marie back in the direction of the farm. “I’ll miss the countryside.” The brim of his hat dips over your eyes and you don't correct yourself when you lean to his back, calmed from the rocking sway.

Toji pulls the reigns at the stairs and gets off. You impassively accept his aid as he

scoops and sets you down.

The buzzing porch light attracts moths with its fluorescence. Amidst the prolonged awkward silence and clumsy gestures, you’re searching for your soul’s response like Annie mentioned. Whenever you tried, the message got tangled on your tongue. Given another chance, it eludes you again.

“I guess this is it.”

“Yup” he agrees.

“Try not to miss me too much.”

He smirks, “I’ll do my best. Goodnight, little miss.”

He left and it’s time for you to get some sleep. But you can’t. You’re wide awake, glued to the ceiling thinking about him like your life depends on it. Maybe the instigator in you was waiting for confrontation, or the truth hurts more than you thought it would. You sit up like you’re expecting something, like you just lost a long-fought battle. You need the last word.

It’s a quaint home with tawny wood accents. Jacket and gloves in tow, you can’t formulate a single justifiable reason for being at his front door. You lie and tell yourself it’s to return his possessions, as if you ever cared, like his hat isn’t resting on your dresser. You knock twice.

Toji unlocks the door wearing nothing but his jeans, hair shaggier than usual. “Look who’s here” he says, a tinge of shock and something sweeter. You shove the items to him. “Your jacket, and uh…your gloves were bad, so I sewed them up. Try to take better care of your things.” He slings it to the side.

“Heh. Yes, ma’am.”

“So…um.”

“Is that all you’re here for?” Not in the slightest. You’re here to get something off your chest, right? You’re not even sure what you’re mad about anymore.

“Y-yeah.”

“Alright then, see ya in the mornin’.” The door slowly winds closed, but you interrupt, “Were you trying to insinuate something?”

It stops and he cracks it further, smile growing. “Not tryin’ to insinuate anything I haven’t noticed already”

You’re burning under his gaze. “Wha…I swear, your ego is insane. You should be grateful I’ve been so nice-“

“Your eyes tend to…” he regards you from head to toe, “…roam. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Like I wanna look at you.”

“I wouldn’t mind if ya did.”

“God, you’re so far up your own-“

“You haven’t left yet.” His relaxed demeanor aggravates you, as if he's fully aware of why you’re here. He edges closer, chest inches away from yours, voice slow and gravelly in the dead of night.

“There’s somethin’ you want, right? Ask for it.”

Your pulse travels to your ears. Longing teetering on the cusp of fire.

“Fuck this.” You turn to leave, when suddenly your arm gets snatched back and pulled into the room. The door shuts and you’re flung against it, though there’s no room to move when Toji’s pressed chest-to-chest. His breathing heaves, and you can feel it rising and falling laden with yours as he’s loomed over you.

“What’s with the sass, huh?” he chides. His grip is bruising, but the small victory of a sinking composure sends a chill up your spine you’d rather not think about.

“You started it, don’t act so innocent now.” You can tell he’s physically holding back, the shakiness in his little breaths becoming more evident. The wild blaze in his eyes eats you up with greed.

“You really need to be taught some fucking manners.”

“You’re gonna punish me?” You’re both at a whisper, too scared to speak the words you’ve been keeping to yourselves.

“I wanna do so much worse.”

“Then do it.”

He holds your neck in place and you succumb to raw and unrestrained fervor. Rough, uncoordinated kisses being dragged over the expanse of your lips and you’re hardly able to maintain the pace. Your free hand curls through his tresses and pushes him deeper into you. He groans through those rushed, bruising kisses reddening your lips and immediately hunts for more.

You didn’t expect Toji to be a gentle lover by any means, but it’s the way his mouth never leaves yours, a certain thirst that can’t be satiated no matter how much he drinks. You bite his bottom lip, teeth collide and he repeats the feast all over again. You can’t tell if he’s trying to savor it or devour you in one go.

His hands snake from your neck to the fat of your ass, and he delivers a quick smack before hoisting you around his waist. Trails of spit connect where you part for air, but he swiftly chases it with tongue, pushing into your mouth and clouding your head. You intertwine, wet and feverish as it explores your mouth.

He’s ruthlessly scouring fulfillment, drunk off the pleasure he finds in swallowing your moans and traversing your numbing lips. You’re sweating, hot in all the right places, and you return the favor with similar passion. Your lower back aches but he doesn’t give any inclination that he’ll let up soon, grinding on the delicate, sticky lace of your panties exposed from your hiked up dress.

“Fuck, I can feel it through your clothes” he groans, lazily undulating his hips.

“S-shut up- ah!” Your stammering gets caught in a moan when the fabric presses against your clit just right. He wears a sleazy grin, moving slower to coax the barely audible whimper that escaped you a moment ago. “I wouldn’t mind if ya made a little noise” he husks. You’re shaky, trying to compose your trembling vocals threatening to call his name. In regular circumstances, you would’ve let yourself have it. But this is Toji, and the mischievous urge you reserve for him wants to shoot down his boosted ego.

“Maybe you’re not doing good enough.”

“Really...” Toji’s huffs a humorless laugh, and you have half the mind to acknowledge that you just fucked up. He enriches the kiss and movements get a little angrier, bulge rutting into you furiously.

“Then I’ll make it so good for ya, darlin’” he rasps, “So good you’ll hafta beg me.”

It’s impossibly big, and sliding against the aching mess restrained in his pants doesn’t quell your concerns. You swear you can feel the dim thump thump thump through it.

You unlatch again, severing a trail of spit when you briefly make eye contact. They’re crazed, far and near at the same time and somehow sparkling the prettiest shade of hazel green. He immediately claims space on your neck. Sucking and biting, feral groaning between your pulse point that drums whenever his appendage glides along a sweet spot. His teeth graze harsh against your skin and you can feel purple and blue burgeoning like watercolor splotches on an untouched canvas.

And he must be long gone, pinning you between the door and his haughty strength, spit glistening on your neck. You’re using whatever pride you have left to clamp your mouth shut, though it’s obvious to Toji as his lips curl when your breath stutters. He detaches with a wet smack, and you can't angle away from the onslaught of tender kisses along the underside of your jaw.

He lifts you across the room, to the edge of his wooden platform bed draped in a deer pattern quilt. Your knees are wobbly on the descent and it hits when your feet touch the ground, almost slumping onto the mattress. Before you can, he grabs a fistful of hair at the back of your head and holds you upright.

“Stand straight” he barks, dangerously commanding. In one fell swoop, using one hand, he flips the buckle on his belt open and yanks it out the loops. His pants sag at his hips and the tent peaks with more room. He wraps the leather around your wrists and ties it over itself, securing tight—maybe too tight—at the end.

“On your fucking knees.” You don’t drop on the first order.

“Make me.” Typical—but he’s happy to guide you. He tugs your hair to the ground, and you thud onto the hardwood floors by your knees.

You knew Toji was hot, stealing glances of his shirtless torso plowing in the summer rays—but God, he truly is alluring. Straight below him you get the best view of the veins winding down his lower abdomen, the planes of his abs shining in the already low light. Underneath his pecs, full chest pulling taut with yearning, unruly need. In no time he unzips his fly and kicks his pants at his ankles, revealing firm boxer briefs and a dripping, milky stain trailing to the side. Your eyes follow, where his throbbing cockhead peaks out, rosy brown with pearls of greedy precome dribbling down. You can’t resist staring, devouring the sight and adding onto the stickiness coating your inner thighs. You lean in and pepper a few kisses on his tip. He hisses.

“Are you losing your composure?” you ask, reveling in his twitching abs. He grins, and you return the same, “Not yet. You’ll know when I do. I promise.”

You lick a long, mouthwatering stripe on it and he rasps a groan. He’s quick to snatch your scalp and tilt up, forcing you to gaze at him. “Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me.” They appear darker, drunken.

He tugs the boxers down and his cock springs out centimeters from your face, glistening and flushed. He taps it on your lip and smears the sheen. You don’t break eye contact as required, especially when you lick your bottom lip to taste him.

“Fuck, such a slut.” He prods at your mouth and you gladly open, closing your puckered lips around the bulbous tip. “Nice and open for me” he mutters. It’s partly a mutter, resembling a hoarse ramble as he slides the length of his veiny, thrumming cock past your cheek fat constricting around him.

“Yeah, t-that’s it—fuck—just like that.” Your eyes water and beaded tears gather at your lashes, but he craves the back of your throat—he’ll make it fit if he needs to. You’re adjusting to his size, forcing yourself to accommodate him and hollowing your cheeks as best as you can, fulfilling a twisted desire to satisfy him. Your palate scraping his sensitive tip elicits a deep, gravelly moan that sends vibrations straight to your clit.

“Mm, that pretty mouth taking it so well f’me.” You open your throat and allow him to push further, swelling a noticeable bulge through your skin. He’s straining your mouth to capacity, and it’s only when your nose meets his pubes and his balls are flush with you that you try breathing.

It’s no use with his cock barreling down your throat. He keeps a firm grip on the back of your head, watching your body retch at the size of him for amusement. Then he pulls out and you dry heave from the sudden influx of normal air in your lungs. You’re soaked all the way through, hazy, hurting, but desperate for more. Too horny to remember your pride. What even is pride when you can’t tell the difference between drool and tears?

You’re French kissing his dick as if he’s not there, slobbering and licking it up, rolling your tongue over his frenulum like an animal in heat. Shame will overcome you by morning; in the meantime, you’ll indulge, drain him so that he can’t fathom speaking the word “brat” again. You loll your tongue and he smiles.

“I didn’t even fuck you yet and you’re already this bad?” He’s one to talk when his comebacks crack at the back of his throat, muscles sweaty and tense from your ministrations. “I’m a good man, so I’ll help ya out.”

Without warning, he drives himself all the way down your throat. You gag, but he’s relentless. He has hands on both sides of your head and he puts his foot on the edge of the bed, angling himself to probe deeper in your throat. Laden balls slap your chin and an amalgam of sloshing and gagging bubbles from the inundated scene in your mouth. Obscene noises cloud your ears. You can only lean on the support of the bed and take every brutal, solid thrust. His groans accelerate, “You’re—hngh—droolin a little bit, huh, princess. Haah—is it t'much for you, hm? T-tell me baby, fuck.”

It really is. It’s so intense; eyeliner smudged across your face, tears shimmering, drool coating your puffy lips and his cock rubbing your voice raw. He uses you like a fleshlight and your panties are soaked through. The twitching gets more apparent and he channels a string of curses as his hips lose coordination. “On your f-face or—ungh, your mouth. Choose darlin'.” You respond by staying still, looking at him with what little eyesight you have through cloudy tears.

“Such a pretty comeslut” he moans, “Don’t be wasteful—hah-ah—you’re gonna be soo fucking good and swallow it all, okay?” He might as well be rambling to himself, mouthing off on questions you couldn’t possibly answer. His bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans and curses at the precipice. Hips stuttering, legs quivering sporadically, “(Y/N), m’coming, coming—ugh, fuck—oh fuck.”

You see the exact moment he disregards ego; head lulled back, lip sagging open while he chases the high. Guttural groans meander in the space, and he pumps enough come from his spit-soaked balls to coat your throat. You wince and fresh tears are stirred from the sheer amount you’re gulping. He lags and finally relaxes, twitching sensitively when you swallow with his half-hard length still inside. Then he shudders once more when he retreats.

Toji leans down to kiss you, wrapping tongue over tongue. You’d hope the kisses soothe your chafed throat, but to no avail. It’s not ideal that there’s a tingle in your knees, and the same position made your legs go numb. Your wrists burn as well, diagonal lines creasing your skin around the leather. Luckily, Toji scoops you and sets you rather gently on the mattress. That’s the extent of his kindness, however, as he begins shredding the straps from your dress. They snap with a pop, the sound of money going down the drain. The luxurious silk is torn from you and you’re indifferent. There’s an unquenchable need for him—everywhere, under you, inside you, however you can achieve closeness. “I need you. Now” he grunts.

He manhandles you on your stomach with your ass raised in the air. Cool wind brushes against the pounding fever between your legs, and the sopping lace hangs by a thread.

“Shit, you’re wet.” It’s obvious from the outside, drenched fabric a shade darker, fused uncomfortably to your pulsing pussy and reflecting on your plush thighs. He won’t take his eyes off it; he stares like he can eat through them. He peels the fabric back painfully slow, watching it furl into itself. “These just get ‘n the way.” Some slick leaves with it and slides down his hand, then he absorbs the main course.

Glistening, syrupy fluid blankets your pussy and forms cobwebs of mess around your inner thighs and taint. You’re so wet it’s uncomfortable, and you shift around on your knees trying to quell the inescapable throbbing in your clit. He spreads your cheeks apart, practically salivating, “Look at ya.”

Your windpipe was ripped from you, but you can scarcely hoarse “Stop staring.” His hot laughter sends shivers through you, but he holds you still before you can move forward. “Aww, too wet for your own good?”

“Must be so sensitive” he coos, veiled in feigned concern. The pad of his thumb hovers, damn near salivating. “Tell me where it hurts, darlin’.” He flicks gently over the bud and you flinch. “Here?”

He rubs calculated, unhurried circles on it. It doesn’t suffice—it couldn’t, because each time you lean to his touch, he recedes just a little. Because of course he wouldn't let you satisfy your desires without paying first. It’s maddening to almost get what you want and fall short repeatedly. You whimper pathetically, and he teases, “I know, darlin’, I know.”

“Hurry up already” you whine. He quickly lands a stern, stinging swat to your ass and you recoil. “No attitude. Had enough’a that.”

He positions two fingers at your glossy entrance, “Want help? Show me how bad ya want it.” You should’ve told him to go fuck himself, or at least you would have if you weren’t trembling with carnal hunger. You turn back to him glassy-eyed and he smiles—sympathy won’t work here. So you slope over his waiting fingers and glide them inside. They’re thicker than you thought they’d be. A delicious burn around the ring of your cunt from your walls stretching, it takes some adapting to get used to it.

Once you do, though, you’re bouncing on them knuckle-deep, coating his palm in juices sluicing down his wrist. He doesn’t move an inch, but he drags his digits in a ‘come hither’ motion that sends tiny sparks bursting through your body. The notion of fucking yourself on his fingers should’ve been obscene, but you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. You’re panting, wiggling your hips with buzzing stars in your vision at the way it scrapes and kneads your walls. “You can’t hate me that much. Suckin’ me up and I’m not even movin’” he taunts.

You don’t realize how loud you’re moaning, how your pussy talks louder than you do, sloppily sliding and squelching. “Fuck—you’re so messy. Where’s your resolve, huh? Nothing mean to say?”

“Hah-ah” You clench rapidly, heartbeat in your ears. Until your stuttering heart and legs get worse, and you’re losing momentum. Your muscles burn from the inside out like a tiring workout, and you can’t keep up the pace that would’ve attained ecstasy. Just like that, it’s ripped away from you.

And you cry.

Hot, frustrated tears spill down your cheeks and you stop moving. He removes his wrinkled fingers. One side of the mattress sinks near you, and he thumbs the tears from your blushed cheeks and nose, your dazed lashes and pouty lips. “S’okay.” He pecks the corner of your eye, prompting a tear he samples. “Done fightin’ me?”

You nod absentmindedly. “What do you want?” It’s simple, but you make eye contact with him. Jaw clenched, huffing as if he’s battling his own assurance. Your eyes water again. “Please...”

You can’t read his face, but he leaves the mattress. It’s eerily quiet.

“Y’know just how to get me.”

A shattered gasp dies in your throat when you feel a warm, cruel stripe from your clit to your taint. Once, twice, his broken puffs fanning the flames. Both hands spread your legs wider and he nuzzles your folds, placing open-mouthed kisses, savoring your arousal. Then he immerses himself.

He put up a good farce for a while, but the crumbling began at his desperate, tangled tongue—ravenous and starving, he ate you like a decadent main course he’d never taste again. He was starved—slurping and sucking, releasing with a juicy smack and diving back in. He’s on his knees, grunting low at your drooling slit. He didn’t care about your quivering thighs, honeyed liquid building in layers on his chin, the weak cries you managed. None of it mattered. Because you—you were heady and sweet, and as he drowned in your scent, he wished to be breathless forever.

“S’fuckin’ good—oh, fuck, make a mess on my face.” He swats your ass, pointed tongue massaging your clit while he gropes the doughy flesh. It’s pliable in his hands and it gives him something to anchor while he drawls lecherous swipes over your swollen gooeyness. “Ngh—p-please—close-” Your stomach turns knot after knot, damp with sweat and sensing a rapid euphoria surging all too fast. Your mistake for announcing it, because he focuses his attention on a self-indulgent make-out session with your clit. “Come. Come on my face, princess—” You start to spasm, and the vulgar noises coming from Toji disperse in your ears.

“Toji” you moan, and sooner fall apart in his arms. White-hot pleasure courses through your convulsing cunt and a chain of violent aftershocks render you silent. What makes you even shakier, though, is that he doesn't stop.

He cleans his plate, imbibing the perfumed essence gushing from you. He peppers kisses around your contractions, deaf to your croaked sobs. If you weren’t bound, you’d push his head away. You attempt to use your foot to nudge him off, but you didn’t expect to make a dent in someone his size. He intertwines his hands with your sweaty ones, calm thumb swaying back and forth; it would be comforting if he wasn’t ruining you at the moment.

The intensity of his deliberate tongue only makes the aftershocks worse, and your hands start to jolt as you cry out, “Ahn--no more, p-please!” You feel his smile on your folds and he persists. His lapping gets more aggressive and so do your tremors, loud and unrestrained moans torn from you.

He finally unlatches, landing a final smack on your puffy pussy. Your heads swimming in an infectious trance, but you’re undeserving of a break as you whirl behind you and see him pumping his flushed cock. It stands at attention and even seems bigger than before, colored deep with need pearling at the divot.

“Need you or ’m gonna go crazy.” Toji keeps a firm hand at the base of your spine—it arches your back and shoves your words into the bed. He drags his bulbous head along your sensitive cunt, collecting the slick trickling onto the damp sheets before rimming the slit. A hint of fatigue crosses your face and he takes notice. “Heh, done already? We haven’t even started yet.”

The image of him entering you for the first time burns into your memory; his brows are knitted, bottom lip tucked under teeth and his breath hitches. If you were fucked out, he was getting there. He presses into your spine like he’s trying to prevent himself from coming on the spot, paused but lingering. Tunnel visioned on your soaked, bulging pussy stretching around him, snuggling his leaden length like a heated blanket. And you drink in the pain, a dulcet blaze engulfing you as sore muscles clench and unclench.

“You’ve been quiet, pretty thing” he muses, “Where’s your resolve, huh? Nothin’ mean to say?” With his veins adorning your walls and your mushy brain bouncing around in your head, you can’t bring yourself to talk shit. He pulls out completely, watching a mix of precome and wetness connect your bodies.

Suddenly, he bottoms out. “Ahn--fu-ah!” It shreds a whimper from you and he mocks your cracking moans, though he seems to be breaking, himself. The sharp snap of his hips contacts skin-on-skin, earning each sloppy slap echoing in the room. His lips are parted, swamped in infinite, unbridled lust. The carnal itch he’d been holding off on for weeks seeps through, satiating his most indulgent appetite. “O-oh, God, shit, look at the m-mess you’re making.” He drives out to his frenulum and shoves it back in with no mercy, no sign of slowing down. Long, deep strokes leaving you slack jawed and teary. Every drag of his dick imprints his name on your tongue, heavy balls smacking your tender clit.

“You hear that? Listen.” He goes quiet, to let the indecent plap plap plap’s resound. Your cheeks turn hot from humiliation. The side rail of the bed screeches the hardwood floors, and the belt buckle you’re secured to clicks occasionally.

“You’re my filthy slut” he grins, striking your rouged cheek. He’s rough, but you weren’t searching for friendliness, neither of you did. At your core, you knew it—Toji bullying himself into your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. A poison so incredibly captivating, you’re burning just to feel his crowning ardor.

He’s sandwiched between your swollen lips and he can’t get enough, virtually drunk from it. He winds another branding swat on your backside, then the other. The crackling fire of his hand thwacking delicate flesh merges pleasure with pain. “You've been such a brat all summer” he taunts, “Needed me to put you in your place, huh, you fucking slut?” Another mean swat, and he laughs crudely at you little gasp. “You like this shit, don’t you? Wanna be manhandled like a fucking whore.” Both cheeks are a severe fiery color, beginning to welt, but he resumes. And you’re drenching him. A creamy, gooey ring forming at the base of his dick, tracing translucent strings when he pummels your poor leaking pussy.

“M’sorry, so s-sorry” you babble. Apologizing for what? You don’t know, but the delirium spills truths you should’ve voiced ages ago. You're utterly incoherent; you might as well stay silent. “Aww, I know” he cloys, soft and sultry compared to the angry strokes he’s delivering. Shockwaves burst and fizzle on your clit and you flutter around him. Your ass ripples against him, hoarse voice funneling strings of curses, scrotum pummeling your overworked bundle of nerves. You want to come so bad it hurts, and you find yourself arching a little harder, spreading your legs a little wider—just begging him to use you entirely, to melt, become his.

“Pleasepleaseplease” you whimper, at the height of your intensity. Then sweltering, frenetic spasms suffocate Toji’s shaft as you ride the orgasm seemingly crashing into you. You shudder violently, pleading with your body to attain some level of poise. It has other plans, however, provoking you to flitting tears from dragged-out, toe-curling tremors. You grip him like a vice and he struggles to pull out, but when does he’s rubbing circles on your aching nub. You’re lost in a bottomless sensation, but you hear his voice in your dampened ears, “Mm, I got ya.”

The pressure on your wrists lessens, and you realize you can move them freely. Your arms are numb returning to a normal position, and you support yourself on your feeble elbows when you feel your legs being parted again. In the fleeting instant you’re allowed to settle, the vast trail of his tongue laps at your shuddery cunt. "P-please wait—ngh, I can’t-” you wail, and you turn to the commotion to see Toji, growling and devouring your silken arousal.

He’s absolutely corrupted, a feral glint in his blearily blinking eyes, chest heaving salaciously as he kneads your thighs. You paw at his hair, toiling to crawl away from his unsparing mouth but he follows. He releases you and you inch away from him. “Where ya goin’? Heh, tryna run?” he teases. You don’t get very far, because he grapples your waist and pulls you back. “Not done ‘till I say it’s done.”

Then he’s climbing on the bed with you, and you can do nothing but snivel in protest as he maneuvers you to hike your leg over his. He lays on his side, locking you in his embrace and smears his cock between your puffy folds. “Am I being mean to you?”, he slides in with ease, savoring the sweet mess spewing on cue, “’M sorry, I’m just an ‘angry old man’, after all.”

He pounds your chubby cunt with wild abandon. You feel each vast stroke pummeling your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. You can’t close your legs—as badly as you want to—and you’re forced to endure frantic twitching from your lit nerves. He strips your breasts of the flimsy lace bra and alternates among pinching your nipple and molding the valley to his palms. He twists it harsh and you muster a pathetic babble, to which he laughs—mocking and unhinged, “My poor baby, you can’t handle it anymore.”

Anymore was an understatement, it was overwhelming—to a degree that you’d gone quiet, enveloped in vehemence. You're scratching up his bicep with the other tangled in the sheets, knuckles turned white and your head thrown back. You want to push him off, but you’re milking his stuttering hips, drawing him closer. It isn’t enough and it’s too much. “F-fuck, it’s so swollen” he moves from your chest to your vulva, “I can touch right? Y-yea, you don’t mind.” His intoxicating voice is at a whisper in your ear, laying like liquor in your cotton-filled mind. With his cock dragging against your walls and hammering your g-spot, mercilessly circling his pads on your clit, eliciting every short “ah, ah” from your swollen lips, you’re far from combative.

He precisely rolls his hips and it’s unbearably hot, broken mewls fleeing you. Your mouth sags, drool shameless down your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. He wraps his hand around your throat, boring into your teary eyes. You can’t escape his overbearing presence, isolated from everything besides his eye contact. He is everything.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He gradually squeezes tighter and you pule in response. Since that didn’t work, he accentuates the words with every tantalizing thrust:

“Who’s”

“Pussy”

“Is this?”

You narrowly choke out, “Your pussy”, and like something snapped his rhythm get faster, nastier. The asphyxiation reaches you brain and floods you, aswoon on a pillowy cloud. He’s faltering, pumps getting sloppier, “Thaaat’s right, ‘nd I’ll use this pretty pussy whenever I need.” His stomach flinches but he doesn’t stop chasing that high, eyes thoroughly glassed, “’N you’re gonna be a good girl and take it—ha, f-fuck—be a good girl, o-okay?” Your pupils retreat to the back of your head, and you arch off the bed as your body begins to tremble. He’s glued to you, “One more, let it out f’me. Please, fuck, I need it—hah—need you to come on my dick—”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, and you unravel. A stream of liquid coats the blanket and you’re speechless as you convulse uncontrollably, legs betraying you for strong spasms. You go limp but Toji props you up, bucking his hips when his own legs start to jolt. “That’s a good girl—Ohh yes. Y-you're so good f'me, princess. Coming—hahh—gonna come all over your pretty cunt—”

His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy, vile pumps before he pulls out. He spurts all over your tummy and hypersensitive vulva, painting it in thick white layers. He persists, groaning until he’s fully hollow, emptying his sack in globs. His staggering pants and shaking reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted weight. You weep softly, clinging to him as he presses selfish kisses from your lips to your wet lashes. He caresses your cheek, sweaty and disheveled in the dim light. Then your eyesight starts to blur.

Your sight peels back, permitting warm sunlight basked over the bed. It takes a split second to notice you’re resting on pillows not nearly as comfortable as yours, and the wood paneling was uncharacteristic of your assigned room. It takes another second to notice your galled throat, stinging backside, and the arm loose on your naked waist. You peer over your shoulder, to that mop of ink sprawled on the pillow. He looks peaceful, though you’re not sure how you slept soundly when he snores like a brute.

You slip from his arms to sit up. The floor’s freezing, but by the time you get to stand you’re pulled back into the covers. Entangled in limbs, you gaze at Toji, who still has his eyes closed. His face appears softened up close. There’s a small scar near his hairline that you hadn’t spotted. You trace the scar, outlining it to the one on his lip. He nips your finger.

“I wanna sleep” he grumbles.

“Then you should’ve let me leave”

“No.” You card your fingers through his hair, and he sighs into it. A fine gray strand peaks out amongst the rest. “You’re turning gray, old man.”

“The way I had you last night, I wouldn’t say ‘old man’.” Your remembrance makes your ears hot and you clasp a hand over his mouth. He laughs and pecks it, “You’re leaving today. Let’s get you packed up” he muffles.

Little did he know, you’d talk to your father that afternoon, asking to stay for a couple more months. The countryside welcomed you—and what a humbling experience it was.

#jjk toji #jjk x reader #jjk #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut

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minswriting · 2 months ago

Note

sex with hotch while he has the vest on 🤭 holding onto the straps on his side for dear life as he fucks into you 🤭🤭 he still has all of his clothes on but his pants are pulled down just enough for his cock because he couldn’t wait to fuck you 🤭🤭🤭

AHHHHHH you’ve got me fucked up thinking about this man. i’m also so tired so if this sucks im so sorry lol

nsfw | mdni | aaron hotchner x reader | no foreplay, unprotected sex, quickies

just thinking about how you guys would be getting back to the Bureau, still dressed in the bulletproof vests because you didn’t have any time to take them off. and aaron just looks so unbelievably attractive in a bulletproof vest, ESPECIALLY when he’s wearing just a polo underneath.

the adrenaline from the intense situation was still high in everyone as everyone walked inside, finally taking off their vests and such. except, when no one is looking, you drag aaron into the bathroom before he could take his vest off because you just desperately needed him right then and there. you locked the door behind you.

nothing was spoken between either of you. the adrenaline and desperation just encased the two of you as he pulled down his pants just enough for you to take his cock. and you took your pants off completely to allow aaron full access. “couldn’t wait until later, baby?” he’d murmur into your ear as he placed you onto the sink counter.

you shook your head no, wrapping your arms around aaron’s neck. “need you so bad,” you whispered back.

aaron hummed, grabbing his cock and lining it up to your pussy. he teased you slightly, running his cock along your slit. “how are you so wet?” he whispered, pressing kisses onto your neck.

“you’re so hot,” you whispered back, letting out a shaky breath when aaron lines himself up at your hole. and when he starts to ease himself into you, it took everything in your power to not moan as neither of you wanted to raise suspicion.

and when aaron is fully inside of you, he doesn’t hesitate to fuck you hard and fast. you guys were in the bathroom in a government owned building. there was no time to take things slowly like you usually did. your hands moved down to aaron’s vest, grabbing the straps that were on the side and gripping them as aaron slammed his hips into you.

you leaned forward to bury your head into his shoulder, trying to silent any noises that threatened to come out. only the tiniest of whimpers left your mouth as aaron’s cock fucked you thoroughly.

“fuck, you feel so good, princess,” aaron whispered, breathing heavily into your ear. you wrapped your legs around him, bringing him deeper into you.

you let out a small whine, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth. the desperation in aaron’s thrusts was so much. his cock hit your sweet spot with every move, making it so hard for you not to moan like a whore. “i-i’m so close,” you whispered, your breathing shaky.

“me too.”

it didn’t take long for either of you to cum. the pure neediness that you both felt overpowered anything else. you came so hard that you were scared that you hurt aaron’s cock with how hard you were clenching around him. but the small whimper he let out showed you that he loved the feeling as not even two seconds later, he was spilling his seed inside of you.

and with a small kiss to your lips, aaron pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants. the both of you took a minute to catch your breaths. “i’ll see you out there in a few minutes,” aaron whispered before kissing your lips once more. he unlocked the bathroom door and walked out, closing the door behind him.

you quickly grabbed your pants, pulling them back on. and after about five minutes, you walked out of the bathroom as well. aaron was in his office, already had taken the vest off, as if he didn’t just fuck you in the bathroom not even ten minutes ago.

which was alright because when you guys got home, you rode him on the couch, showing him just how needy you really were at seeing him in his bulletproof vest.

#🌸 — min’s asks #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions #criminal minds aaron hotchner

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wegc · 1 year ago

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perv!channie and reader finally fucking but she teases him the whole time until he has had enough. “you’re such a fucking pervert” and “you’re so disgusting” all while she’s grinning at him and riding him like her life depends on it. he’s literally a second away from cumming as soon as he’s inside her. “you really think you deserve to cum? after fantasizing about fucking your best friend’s sister?” she denies him to cum for so long that he finally snaps and flips her over, pounding into her like a madman. “such a tease, you whore” and “don’t have much to say now, huh?” she cums so hard but he’s not done. even after he cums, he aint done either…

OK IM DONE AHHHHHH (please feel free to finish or add on or write more to it bc i would v much appreciate it)

i’m ascending. something about cocky!reader paired with a perpetually flustered, perv!chan is such a mouthwatering combination.

perv!chan whose cock twitches inside you every time you humiliate him with yet another reminder of how repulsive and depraved he is; he can’t bite back immediately because you’re right. he’s nothing but a disgusting pervert and he’s fortunate that you aren’t completely appalled by him.

when you grip the base of his cock and guide him inside your dripping cunt, chan feels like he could pass away beneath you. every delusion of his, whether it emerged in his bedroom or your washroom—a mere room away from you—was coming true and it was far better than he had ever imagined.

all he can do is pant and whine under you, taking in the sight of your tits bouncing in his face and the cute flush of your face, which scrunched up in pleasure. most importantly, the feeling of your cunt—the warmest thing in the world—took his breath away; his cunt, all his—he’d make sure of it.

the overwhelming feeling of being inside you, the epiphany and high of all his dreams and desires coming true right before him has his poor cock pulsing inside you, seconds away from cumming. each flutter of your cunt, each moment your fingers teased his nipples or when your hot, wet mouth whined against his had him feeling lightheaded—he knew he wouldn’t last long.

and your teasing—while it did turn him on, it also infuriated him. god, you were such a fucking brat—a mouthy little handful. did you frankly know what he thought of every time he stroked his cock to the image of you? you wouldn’t be behaving so pretentiously if you knew all the things he yearned to do to you, all the positions he’d bend you in, all the fondling and groping he had dreamt of, all the mean and obscene remarks he’d taunt you with, all the ways in which he would make you beg for more. you had no fucking clue.

before you even realize it, you’re pulled off his cock and manhandled to your hands and knees, where the drilling of chan’s cock seizes your breath. he’s suddenly so deep inside your cunt—you swear the tip of his cock might kiss your cervix—and you can scarcely catch some air every time he snaps his hips to go harder.

chan would grin, smacking your ass, laughing shakily at the sounds of your yelps and wailing with each drag of his length. your face is buried in his pillow, but even that hardly muffles your loud sobs and pleas.

“god, you don’t ever shut up do you?”

“fuckin’ brat, you want more?”

“dirty little thing, you’re just as gross as me.”

“you feel like a whore, don’t you? doesn’t it make you feel dirty, knowing everything i’ve done? you hate that you like it, don’t you?”

chan, who fucks until dawn, cumming continually inside you and pulling out periodically to observe and engrave the way his cum oozes out of your gaping hole. he feels so pleased as he takes in the bruises and marks he’s littered on your body, marking you as his. or even better, the way your eyes gloss over, looking at him desperately with tearful eyes. your hair is dishevelled, draped messily across his ruined sheets, and your lips are bruised with his kisses and nibbles, lipgloss pathetically smudged away.

“so fucking pretty—my pretty girl, yeah? you wanna go again? can’t go without me, hm? need me so bad to stop all that fussing, right?”

“you’re all mine now, you know that? can’t fuck you just once—can’t have you looking at other people.”

#AAAAA IM GOINF INSANE #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #perv skz #perv bang chan #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #answered #anonymous

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milkzoro · 1 year ago

Text

'innocent' cuddles with him. t.law

mdni

he held your back flush against his bare chest, holding one of your legs up as he touched the softest parts of your body.

his cold hands swayed over each and every curve of your delicate self. you felt the warmth of his soft breaths as he came to rest his nose perfectly in the space of your neck, he kissed tenderly at the skin making you sigh in comfort and bliss.

his voice was so calm as he spoke to you. “how are you feeling baby? your skin is so soft.” he kissed again.

he nuzzled deeper, leaving little love marks and trails of kisses from your collar bone and up. your breath hitched.

they moved as if they had a mind of their own, your legs trembled and parted farther for him the more he teased the sensitive mound in your panties.

“m-more. . . please, keep touching me there. . .” you begged.

his long fingers swayed between the silky folds of your cunt, rubbing swift circles around your clit with his middle and ring finger. “like this? tell me what you want y/n. i wanna make you feel good.” he whispered.

you felt the growing pressure of his cock rest against the tail of your spine as he continued to hold you tight, gently rutting against you as he changed the pace of his touches.

his name dripped from your parted lips in a whine, your cheeks flushed as he made you grow closer and closer.

“so wet baby. . . you gonna cum?” he purred, kissing you all over.

his two digits slid in deep with ease, meticulously pumping and curling against your g-spot. your boyfriends eyes clenched shut with the feeling of his twitching cock pressed firmly against your skin, he was going painfully slow but it made it that much better for him.

“babyy- i want to feel you. . . your cock, law. . . let me help you t-too.” you moaned, trying to turn back around to face him.

he groaned in response, “fuck. no, not yet- give me this one first y/n.” he quickened his pace, pushing another finger deep inside you. your juices coated his skin and soaked the sheets beneath you. “you’re close baby, let go. then i’ll give you what you want, yeah?”

you heard the sneer in his voice, selfishly getting you off for his own pleasure, you wanted to cum so bad. “shit!! yes, law! g-gonna cum!” your eyes tightened as you were beginning your release.

he hooked his fingers up towards your tummy, repeatedly stroking the sensitive pad in your cunt. the knots holding you together were coming undone, making you drip all over his fingers.

“that’s my girl, you’re doing so good. now, look at my fingers baby.” he removed his self from you to let you both admire what you’ve done. the aftershock of your orgasm made it hard for you to focus.

“open y/n. ahhhhhh-” his slick digits toyed with your bottom lip before sliding them down your throat, you sucked them clean already knowing what he wanted. you heard laws breaths become sporadic and hoarse, feeling your tongue lick and suck him clean.

he slowly took them out and gently squeezed your hips to lift and face you towards him, he placed you perfectly in his lap. “such a good girl, come here.” his hands snaked around your neck to pull you close. tenderly, he kissed your plush lips.

you reached down to lower his sweats, struggling with the hem as your lips were still pressed to his.

he let you go.

“so eager, let’s take care of you.” he snickered, holding his hand on yours to help remove the loose fabrics containing his needy cock.

#trafalgar law #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece smut #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar op #law fluff #law smut #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar law one piece #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #one piece fluff #one piece sabo

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 1 month ago

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bella PLEWSDE WRITE A GRAYSON HAWTHORNE BLURB OR WHAYEVER WITH READER WITH LOW IRON AND LIKE SHE ALMOST FAINTS BECAUSE THERES LITERALLY ZERO. ZERO FICS THAY HAVE THE READER WITH LOW IRON SO PPELAPSPESLLEPWDLEEL

AHHHHHH BELLE LET ME JUST BEGIN WITH AN APOLOGY BECAUSE I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS FIC HAS TAKEN ME THREE BILLION YEARS TO GET AROUND TO WRITING!! THANK YOU FOR YOU REQUEST AND I PRAYYYY THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED…. (if not I will redo)

title: I’m fine

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: a story where ‘I’m fine’ means ‘I’m totally not fine but I’m not going to admit that’

warnings: dizziness, fainting

a/n: dedicating this to the beautiful @midiosaamor 💖💖 ily <33

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses @book-nerd-emi @peppapigsposts @foreverwinter22

It only started as a headache, not bad enough to be classed as a migraine but bad enough to be considered more than your average headache. Still, I carried on typing the words out on my computer, my brain pulsating in pain.

I didn’t have time to rest off a headache, there was too much to do. I’d only started working four hours ago and if I didn’t get this done by tonight then my boss would not be happy. I mean it wasn’t exactly my fault she decided set me an assignment with a deadline on the same day but still, I had to work it all out and push through.

The tasks seemed endless, I typed word after word, in a state of not really registering what I was writing, just making the robotic movements to write. Clicking the keys and forming coherent sentences without anything being properly processed. It wasn’t unusual, I was used to my brain working faster than my body sometimes.

Still, my head throbbed on. For a second, I stopped the incessant tapping on my keyboard and pressed two fingertips softly to each temple. My hands were ice cold. I breathed in and out deeply a few times with my eyes shut before beginning to work again, praying a tiny reset would be what I needed. I knew I was lying to myself, I knew it would take more than that to soothe any pain but I carried on like I didn’t.

“Are you alright?”

As small gasp escaped my lips as I looked up to see Grayson standing in the doorframe, one hand at the top taking most of his weight. I wondered how long he’d been stood there and I hadn’t noticed.

“Mmmm,” I hummed in reply, going back to finish the sentence I was typing before I lost my train of thought. Then I looked back up at him again, “why?”

He walked in slowly looking at my face intently, “you look a little pale.”

He took my face into his palms and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. Small, gentle, long strokes, that made me lean into him further. I wanted to just curl up in his arms and sleep, but my work clearly had other ideas.

“Just a headache,” I brushed it off, pulling away from his touch reluctantly, “is there any aspirin?”

“There is,” he nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together in concern, “but I really think you ought to lay down if it’s this bad.”

“I don’t need to,” I shook my head stubbornly, standing up to look him dead in the eye, “I’m fine.”

What a lie.

“You don’t look fine,” he told me softly, the anxiety rippling across his perfected features. His hands curved around the small of my back and I tried to enjoy it instead of thinking about the throbbing of my head.

So despite my ache, I smiled, “well I feel fine.”

Sometimes I lied so easily and so well it worried me. I shouldn’t be this good at something so cruel. But maybe more than him, I was lying to myself to convince a part of me that I wasn’t as feeling as bad as I thought I felt.

Grayson gave me another worried glance, thumb running up and down the base of my spine rhythmically, the softness of his touch sending a chill through it.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked me, the tingling up my back dying down.

“Earlier,” I nodded, my eyes flicking the time in the bottom corner of my screen realising my ‘earlier’ actually meant six hours ago. On cue, my stomach seized in a hungry protest, sending a tight knot like sensation across my abdomen. I prayed it wouldn’t grumble, betraying my lies to Gray.

“I haven’t seen you eat or-“

“Stop the fussing,” I grinned to bear it, “I’m fine, just need a tablet and some water.”

“Maybe lay off the work then,” he suggested, cocking his head towards my computer screen.

“Grayson I need to get this done,” I sighed gently, “a little headache can’t stop me.”

“Okay…” he said unsurely, hesitating for a few seconds.

“Stop worrying,” I forced a laugh through my searing brain, glancing up at him and looking through those truth-reeling gray eyes.

“I’m not,” his right hand twitches at my side. Liar. “Sit down and I’ll go and get you the aspirin, okay?”

“Okay then,” I nodded, sitting down. Another chill ran through my spine, though this time it was because of the empty place left where his hands had just been.

I took a few more deep breaths, feeling a little out of it all of a sudden. It was like I was in the room but I wasn’t at the same time. I closed my eyes and let the weight of my skull fall into my palms, breathing even deeper, heavier.

I let myself hang, like a lifeless marionette forgotten by her puppeteer, everything leaden and dopey. When I heard Grayson coming back and quickly opened my eyes and sat up a little bit straighter. If he saw me like that he’d get stressed and that’s the last he needed. It was only a headache after all.

Just a really bad headache.

“Thank you,” I kissed him on the cheek as he passed me the aspirin pill and a glass of water.

He cupped my face in his hands, “you promise me you’re fine?”

“I promise promise promise you,” I whispered, feigning another smile. My jaw was starting to ache. I don’t know it’s it from the guilt of lying or the forceful action of smiling or maybe it was just the headache transferring.

I took the tablet between my fingertips and put it at the back of my mouth before swallowing it quickly with water. I shivered afterwards. I hate taking tablets.

Grayson squeezed my shoulders softly, “do you want me to stay here?”

“Didn’t I just ‘promise promise promise’ you I was fine?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

He looked at me and sighed. Worry ran riot across his eyes, swirling anxious thoughts into pools of grey. How bad did I look?

“I haven’t got much work left to do, okay?” I said, “I just need to get through this.”

He took his time walking out and although I didn’t look at him I was convinced he kept looking back every through steps to check on me. Finally he left and I downed the glass of water.

I sat still for a moment, analysing how I felt. I didn’t think it was possible but my head had worsened. I internally groaned as dread filled my body. It wasn’t supposed to worsen. I prayed the tablet would kick in, after all I hadn’t really given it a chance.

I took a long breath out and continued tapping away at the keypad. After a while the continuous clicking and clacking was beginning to irritate me. Like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. My already pounding head felt pounded with the small noises over and over like they were making a mockery of it. Still I continued, there wasn’t much left now and if I could just finish it l, all would be okay.

After about a billion spell checks - seriously why does psychology have a ‘p’ and ‘h’ in it, it’s so irrelevant - I thought I might be ready to finish when I realised I’d missed a whole section.

By now my head was almost unbearable. Torturous agony was creeping up behind my eye now as well as the front of my head. A whole section felt like it would be the death of me. And I’d noticed something weirdly unnatural about my breathing. Every breath in didn’t feel like enough oxygen. So I began to breathe more deeply and when that wasn’t working, more quickly.

That only fuelled my rising panic about the weird nature of these symptoms. They were familiar. Why couldn’t I breathe normally? What was wrong? Maybe it was more than a headache? Questions raced through my head faster than it had time to process them all.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

My head pounded on and like the idiot that I am, I carried on writing. My vision blurred out for a fraction of a second then cleared shortly after. I rubbed my eyes. It was just the screen. Just the screen.

It happened a few more times, so I cleaned my glasses with the bottom of my jumper for good measure. More notes, more notes, more notes, more notes. I quickly hit save in the document for fear if my computer crashed I would lose it all. I sighed as I then went to drink from my water glass only to realise it was empty.

“Gray!” I yelled, “could you grab me another glass of water please?”

I barely registered his reply, my only focus being the stupid piece of work. ‘I can last a little longer’ I repeated over and over in my mind. Until I was bored. Until I was delirious. Until I was too brain dead to care.

I could hear Grayson approaching so got up to meet him at the door. I wanted a ten second break from staring straight at the glowing screen. Suddenly, mid step, I stumbled. Straight away Grayson had one hand around the small of my back gripping tightly and the another on my upper arm, steadying me. I try to laugh it off as a I mistake but even that sounded weak.

“Woah sweetheart,” he said, his hold firmer as he set me straight, “what’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, trying to get back to my chair, my legs feeling too much like jelly for my liking.

I could see he didn’t believe me completely, he didn’t have to say a word. Grayson, instead, took me in his arms. I couldn’t ask to sit down after that, then I’d be admitting that something was wrong. So I stayed standing, my body against his. The only thing holding me up was him.

He looked at me, tender eyed and consumed with concern, “you’re clearly not my love.”

“Gray, I just tripped,” I said smoothly, praying he’d let me twist the truth as I tried to stop my legs from shaking.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured in a low voice, curling his other arm around my waist for support.

“I’m not lying,” I shrugged, continuing to be in denial as I gripped to his shirt so tightly my knuckles went white, “I’m fine.”

As soon as the words left my lips everything spun. I closed my eyes and pressed my head against his chest, hoping it would all just go away. My feet swayed a little and panic seized my throat at the unsteadiness. I made a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a silent scream.

“It’s okay,” Grayson whispered softly, “I’ve got you.” He brought a hand up through the back of my hair and gently held onto the back of my head to steady it.

“Dizzy,” I murmured into him, my voice slurred and slowed. I felt so out of it.

We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. My concept of time was as hazy as my vision. I just remembered staying very still, Grayson’s hands not leaving my body and how hard my forehead was pressed against him.

After a while, I tried to stand back on my own, thinking the dizzy spell was over but as soon as I did the room became a whirlpool of colours and blob-ish shapes. I felt myself lose my footing completely and before I knew it was falling backwards.

Strong arms tensed around my torso and quickly caught me, “oh sweetheart,” I heard Grayson say as he safely lowered me to the ground.

My legs became lifeless pieces of flesh, heavy as led but weak as a flimsy childhood doll. My head felt heavy in his lap as it pounded on. I sewed my eyes shut, it helped a little with the dizziness. His cold fingers tentatively touched my forehead and I leant into them ever so slightly with what energy I had left.

“I’m going to carry you to bed,” he told me gently, as I felt one arm around my back and the other under my legs.

“But my work-“ I groaned, feeling a little nauseated from the dizziness.

He held me tightly, “no sweetheart, forget about work, you need to rest.”

I didn’t reply and instead feebly gripped my deadened limbs around his neck and prayed for all of this to just go away.

“Gray,” I murmured into his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not fine,” I said, somewhere between a sob and mumble.

“I know sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a shaky kiss on my temple, “I know.”

He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, laying me on the bed, before tucking me under the covers. Not letting go of my hand, that gripped him so tightly I don’t know how he didn’t complain. I heard him dialling a number.

“Who are you calling?” I slurred.

“Someone to come and help you,” he responded swiftly.

“Mhmm,” I could only muster in response.

His thumb rubbed circles up and down my hand, “I’m going to stay right here okay?” he comforted, “can you still hear me?”

“Don’t go,” I whispered, feeling quite pathetic but not self-conscience enough to care.

“No I’m staying sweetheart,” he squeezed my palm in his, “I’m staying.”

My eyes fluttered open as my head lazily lolled to one side, “I’m dizzy,” I groaned, not remembering if I’d mentioned already.

“I know,” Grayson whispered, a hand pushing my hair out of the way, “I know.”

“Can I rest my eyes?” I asked him, closing them anyway.

“No, you can’t go to sleep,” he told me.

“No just rest my eyes…” I trailed off, pausing for a long while, my train of thought wavering, “…to stop the spinning.”

“Squeeze my hand every three seconds then,” he said, “so I know you’re awake.”

“Deal,” I barely managed to whisper before I felt the need to increase my breathing rate. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in my system.

I squeezed his hand every three seconds, just about keeping track of the numbers. But with every squeeze I could feel myself growing weaker and weaker, like all of my energy was being drained slowly and mercilessly. The only thing that kept me from closing my eyes was Grayson’s gentle touches. His soft fingertips trailing over my face, tracing the contours or drawing spirals on my upper arms and neck.

I opened my eyes for a moment, when the darkness was just as bad as the light, when I felt dizzy no matter whether my eyes were closed or open. Things blurred and cleared, darkened and became normal again over and over and over. Until, a piercing ringing coursed through my ears and everything other sound seemed to be submerged under water. I knew what that meant I was close to.

“Gray,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to pass out,” I told him, a single tear trailing its way down my cheek, “I can feel it.”

I knew the signs well enough and every sign was pointing that way.

“It’s okay,” he said, positioning himself behind me, so my back was pressed against his torso and he could support my head, “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to pass out,” I sobbed, black spots dancing across my vision in mockery.

The worst part is always before you passed out because when you’re out you feel and remember nothing. But before, you know what’s coming and you know you can’t stop it.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he mumbled into my hair, slowly, comfortingly, “you’re safe, if you need to pass out, you can and your body will, whether you like it or not.”

My hands were shaking, fingers rocking back and forth, bumping into one another clumsily, “I’m scared,” I said between uneven breaths.

I grabbed Grayson’s forearm to attempt to still them, my fingers so brutally desperate in their clinging that they constricted his blood flow. No matter how many times I’d passed out,, I always felt just as scared.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he soothed gently, “I’ve got you, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise,” I panted, looking up at him, chest rising up and down harshly.

“I promise,” he leant down and planted a sweet of kiss on my nose.

I kept looking up, until his gray eyes clouded with dark spots, until calm expression replaced with an endless see of nothingness, until the whisperings of sweet words ceased. My breathing was heavy, growing heavier by the second and then… then there was black.

***

I felt thick and heavy with drowsiness. My body felt so weighted it ached. My back was against the mattress, my head flat on the pillow, I was anchored to my bed. The covers had been adjusted to just under my neck and I could feel someone’s hand in mine.

I winced as I opened my eyes, the light attacking them too viciously. Immediately Grayson dimmed it down, holding my cheek tentatively in his palm.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.

“Gray?”

He traced a soft thumb over the bone where my eyebrow sat as he asked, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Here,” he said gently, “have some water.”

Slowly he helped me prop myself up, his hand pressed up against my back, the other tipping the glass towards my lips. I swallowed, the water feeling odd against the dryness of my throat.

“How long was I out for?” I coughed.

“Only a bit,” he said, laying me back down, “the doctors have come and gone, they say you’ll be okay with some rest.”

“Why did I pass out?” I asked tiredly, “do they know?”

“You hadn’t taken your iron tablets in three days,” Grayson explained, cocking his head towards my table.

I glanced to my bedside and gasped. Three days worth of unconsumed tablets sat there. I never usually forgot, one day maybe but three whole days. That was unheard of. Guilt permeated me, all the stress I’d probably put Grayson under could’ve been entirely prevented.

“I must’ve forgotten,” I sighed leaning deeper into my pillow, “work has just been so hectic lately and-“

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t tell you to worry you, I told you so you wouldn’t overthink what was wrong,” he said softly, “but it’s okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s not okay because it’s all my fault,” I bursted into tears, the shock wave of random emotion leaving me senseless, “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you I wasn’t fine and then I just passed out and that probably really stressed you out and I could’ve stopped all of that if I’d just taken the stupid tablets.”

“Sweetheart,” he pressed a palm flat on my chest, “breathe, it’s okay.”

His voice was the constant in my current of chaotic overthinking. This had happened before many times, my low iron deficiency had always been an issue, but even the very first time I’d passed out he was so much calmer than I’d expected.

He kept calm for me.

“God I feel like an idiot,” I choked out a pathetic laugh, wiping my eyes roughly with the back of my hand.

“You’re not an idiot, love,” he soothed, taking my hand gently into his and replacing with with the pad of his thumb, as he gently wiped away the tears that were left, “it happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen,” I shook my head defiantly.

I don’t forget things. I never forget things.

“Hey,” Grayson said, “look at me, you’re fine, I’m fine and that’s all that’s important.”

He held my face in his palms and looked at me like I meant the world.

“I’m sorry,” I let the weight of my head fall into his hands, taking the ache from my neck.

“Don’t apologise,” he said, “there’s no need for you to, just relax.”

I closed my eyes, his palm warm and comforting against my cheek. His fingers found their way to the top of my head, soothingly running through my hair over my scalp.

“Do you want me to get in with you?” he asked.

I nodded sleepily and watched as he slipped into the bed beside me. I was quick to snuggle close, intertwining my legs with his and burying my face into his chest. I inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered in a low voice in my ear as his arms curved around my waist.

“Tired,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he ushered, “you can go to sleep.”

“What if you go?” I asked, like a child.

“I won’t, I promise,” Grayson said, “I’ll stay here with you.”

I smiled to myself, and squeezed his arm, “I love you,” I murmured, “so much.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he planted a kiss on the top of my head, “more than this world. Get some rest now.”

So I shut my eyes and fell longingly into sleep’s arms.

a/n: hope you enjoyed guys, sorry I haven’t posted much 💖💖

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#the inheritance games #tig #grayson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne one shot #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson x reader #tgg #jennifer lynn barnes #jameson winchester hawthorne

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81folklore · 1 year ago

Text

heaven - PIASTRI - part 3

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: oscars girlfriend attends her first grand prix and the public get to see just how proud she is of oscar

authors note: ive honestly missed writing for oscar and priv!reader so we are back in honor of oscars FIRST EVER WIN AND INCREDIBLE SPRINT RACE!! im genuinely so proud of oscar and im honestly in shock. i also follow ZERO wag pages so i have no clue what they are like, if people actually follow them etc.

authors note 2: short-ish and sweet for OSCARS FIRST WIN?? i started writing this about 30 minutes before the sprint race so i had no clue where this was going to go but HE WON!!

part 1 part 2 masterlist

f1wagupdates

liked by user5, user81, user9 and 7,289 others

yn entering the paddock for the first time today! she followed shortly after oscar, spoke to some oscar/mclaren fans and handed a few who were unable to meet oscar, on his way in, some signed things she had. we absolutely love her already!!

view comments

user81: omg she’s literally the sweetest thing😭

user17: I LOVE HER ALREADY

user61: the fact that oscar fans already love her🫶🫶

user9: oh she looks so cute!!

user72: i was one of the girls she gave something too! she said she had been following behind oscar and kept an eye on anyone who he missed to give them something after he left. she was very very shy, but she made sure to speak to everyone who oscar missed and was asking us questions about us, overall she was very sweet!!

user22: this makes me love her even more😭and congrats on the signed stuff!! do you mind me asking what it was?

user72: thank you! and of course, we all got something different! i got a signed polaroid of oscar (im still in disbelief?! and it must have been one she took herself bcs i couldnt find the photo online anywhere), someone a bit down from me got what looked like a drivers card and i saw someone else get a picture of his car!

user22: A POLAROID?? oh you won😭😭

user1: i wonder if we will see her again

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 9,619 others

first qualifying in the paddock was a rollercoaster of emotions, not the result we were hoping for, expected or wanted but its ok because oscars gonna smash it tomorrow and we’ll pretend today didnt happen!!

view comments

oscarpiastri: glad you had fun🤍

oscarpiastri: my goodluck charm wasnt goodlucking today

yourusername: dont say thattt☹️ill try and be extra lucky tomorrow promise!!

oscarpiastri: i love you

yourusername: i love you more🤭

user3: the photo difference😭

user14: loved seeing you in the garage today

yourfriend3: i love you but those photos😭😭

yourusername: stoooop i was so nervous all day😭

yourfriend7: wish oscar luck from all of us back home!

oscarpiastri: 👍👍

user81: u are so cute☹️

user2: so unfair how they told oscar during the interview!!

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 9,182 others

changed outfits but we are ready for the sprint!!

tagged oscarpiastri

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri: love you lots and lots, thank you for coming🧡

yourusername: I LOVE YOU!! and you dont have to thank me, ill always stay with you🤍🤍

liked by yourusername, mitchevans_ and 817,175 others

PIASTRI STORMS TO SPRINT POLE IN QATAR!🤩🔥

He just keeps getting better and better!

view comments

mclaren: YESSSSSS!!!👏👏👏

user6: P1ASTRI

yourusername: INCREDIBLE🤩🤩

user18: more than deserved!

user73: absolute legend

yourusername added to their story

seen by oscarpiastri and 6,289 others

user6: AHHHHHH

user81: LOOK AT HIM GO

oscarpiastri: ☺️☺️

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 10,278 others

oh how i obsessively adore you.. today you took your first f1 pole position, hours later you became a formula one race winner (idc if it was a sprint you still won!!)

i have been on this incredible journey with you long before your first f2 race. i was by your side at your first f2 win and im still by your side now youve won in f1

i know how much this win means to you, i know how much you wanted to prove yourself to everyone and you have. you never fail to amaze me, especially coming back after the shit show that was yesterday

you are truly incredible and you are so so special🐨

i love you so much, congratulations🧡

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

user61: WHAT IF I STARTED SOBBING

user11: THE KOALA😭😭

user72: so deserved🧡incredible drive!!

user68: the f2 race winner picture😭😭the f1 race winner picture😭😭THE SMILEY INTERVIEW PICTURE😭😭

oscarpiastri: my favorite goodluck charm🧡

oscarpiastri: thank you so much for sticking with me through it all

oscarpiastri: i appreciate you so much my love

yourusername: you are so special, lovely🩵

landonorris: usually i hate your sappy posts but ill make an exception this time..congrats mate!!

oscarpiastri: you too mate!

yourusername: knew id get you to love these posts eventually🤭

formula2: we’re so proud of our aussie🥹🐨

oscarpiastri and yourusername added to their stories

seen by yourusername, aussiegrit and 722,519 others

*text on first photo reads: my favourite thing is when i open my phone after a race and i see the photos yn sent me during the race🧡* *text on second photo reads: i love seeing my boy do what he loves*

oscar’s replies:

user52: shes so cute☹️

user12: tell me that was when you won the race and not before

user61: where can i find someone like her😭

yourusername: babyyy i didnt know youd share these😭😭

oscarpiastri: just had to show everyone how grateful i am for you🤍

user49: get yourself someone who supports you the way yn supports oscar!!

yn’s replies:

user17: oh i love you guys so much

yourfriend2: we are all so proud of oscar!!

oscarpiastri: i love you so much more than i can ever express

yourusername: osc☹️☹️ i hold so much love and adoration for you

oscarpiastri: wait when did you take this photo??

yourusername: i watched the final lap in the bathroom so i could sob in peace😭

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #★ private oscar #f1 insta au

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teeskzagain · 10 months ago

Text

original post got taken down unfortunately😔😔, here is the updated version

Anonymous asked:

I keep imagining Mingi forcing you to cockwarm him at a movie theatre AHHHHHHSHSHH and like he teases you by occasionally thrusting up to hit all the right places and saying it was just him “getting comfy” or “he had a cramp” when he really just enjoys seeing you try to keep everything together 👹 I also feel like he’d whisper in your ear like “pay attention Angel, I didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” WITH HIS DEEP ASS VOICE AHHHHHH IK GENUINELY TWEAKING RN- 🙏🧎‍♀️AHEM- He would also SO massage your thighs and hips (IMAGINE THROWING YOUR HEAD BACK AND HE STARTS PEPPERING YOUR NECK WITH KISSESHSJSHSHHSJSGRRRRRRRRR)

There are so many “also’s” in that sentence 💀 BUT WHATEVER YOU GET THE POINT HOPEFULLY 🤡 don’t feel at all obligated to make anything of this especially since idek if you take requests 😭 I just thought that this is such a YUMMY Drabble prompt 😀 and HAD to share it <3 take care pookemssss

OHH??? uh first off I would like to say I'D LOVE TO TAKE REQUESTS (you're actually the first to provide me with a prompt) and second this is so absolutely delicious.

warnings: smut (COCKWARMING, exhibition, semi-public, teasing, kissing) 18+

wc: 1.2k

this probably wouldn’t even be the first time you found yourself in this situation. no, it’d be a regular occurrence at this point, a developmental game if you must. that’s why bf!mingi absolutely loves the movies, because that’s when he get’s to play his favorite game.

‘how long are you gonna last this time around?’

imagine bf!mingi, who’s caressing your thigh tenderly with the backs of his fingers, shushing you and mumbling sweetly into your hair while your ass continues to squirm against his pelvis. getting situated always took the longest. so tedious, finding that perfect spot where you can just slide down and onto his lap, your walls gripping his cock and swallowing it whole.

he sits idly and unmoving, allowing you to move around for a bit. because at some point, bf!mingi’s gonna start the fun part of the game. the part that really tests your strength.

and once you finally achieve that perfect spot, the sensation makes your face scrunch pleasantly and a soft sigh floats out of you. so entranced, you almost don’t notice the pretty pink blanket, draped over the both of you, slip just slightly down your leg.

“shhhh…okay baby, i need you keep still,” he’d tell you, and a part of him almost doesn’t want to go reposition it. what if he left you out and exposed? imagine, someone walking up and discovering the disgusting scene. it’s exciting him, these thoughts, but soon enough he’s lowering himself down and recovers you two, all the while holding back a smile. it’s enjoyable for him, just the riskiness of it all.

how the dark theatre somehow shadows your lewd actions, yet the monumental screen ahead provides illumination onto your struggling face, “if you wanna win, you know you can’t move.”

after many weeks of playing, you haven’t won a single round. not once. you would get so close, but then luck out whenever bf!mingi would buck a bit too hard, or your own desires began to consume you. every, single round, a loser had been made out of you.

“last time, you couldn’t even make it through the previews before you fucking came all over my legs,” he reminds you, a slow and sick grin spreading wide, “you gonna try harder? wanna get your prize tonight?” it’s pathetic how you have to bite back a mewl from his words.

this is always the hardest part for you: the taunting. it kills you every time.

at the start of the movie, it’s through his teasing voice; his low, grumble of a tone that buzzes perfectly into your head.

“see? already made it through the trailers,” he’d laugh. as a reward the aimless touch he provided earlier turns into a hard grab, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with a quiet groan, “one step closer. just needa make it through the movie.”

then, it’s through his touches.

as you become more conscious of your ragged breaths, his hand trails from your leg and drags up towards your shirt. teasing your breasts through the fabric, he grazes absentmindedly before running then back down your stomach, only stopping when he meets your bare pussy. it takes his full strength to not end the game by just simply fingering the orgasm out of you. but if that were the case, then he wouldn’t be able to see you whither. and that’s always his most favored part.

the most you could do is shut your eyes and pray your body doesn’t betray you. but even that doesn’t get you far, with just a few minutes into the movie, friction starts to build within you. while bf!mingi rests his back against the plush seat, grateful for his top view of the movie theatre, a slow thrust of his hips find a rhythm in your core.

it's torturous. the intentional, unhurried movements, leisurely rocking in and out of you. it's like he's rubbing himself inside you, and you're forced to seal your mouth.

"you holding up okay, angel?" he mutters and you give him a brisk nod, turning to the side momentarily. he finds that comical. your desire to always win. the need to prove him wrong.

but he knows you. he knows you're slipping with every second his leaking cock stays within you, radiating the pleasure you so desperately seek. he knows you're crumbling. you’re gonna unravel soon.

right when you think you've conquered this section of the challenge, a quick shift from underneath you has your eyes vibrating, a small gasp leaving you as bf!mingi practically buries himself closer to your cervix.

"ah, oops, sorry...just need to.." he moves around some more, adjusting his position, along with you, before halting once again, "alright, there we go. i feel much better. how about you?"

the angle he’s now hitting feels like it’s splitting you open and a strained yet airy moan tupples from your lips. with no more strength, your head falls down into the space between his shoulder and neck, eyes shut and brows furrowed, "i can't- i can't do it-"

"mmm, baby, no," he wraps an arm around your torso to reach your cheeks, clasping them together with a smush then forcing you back forward, "baby, you gotta keep your eyes open."

he drops his hand but that doesn't stop your whining, you sobbing out a, "no- i can't-"

"shhh y/n what did i say?,” he locks onto your inner thighs and widens them, “you know i didn't spend money on these damn tickets for nothing. come on, watch the movie."

as you feel him start up again with his quiet thrusts, you loll your head back with a grimace and hooded eyes, little noises now spilling out. your neck fully exposed, bf!mingi takes initiative to lean up and bring his lips to the vast area, nipping and kissing at it. he suctions onto your skin which sends a jolt throughout your core.

and just like that, you're done for.

"you're so close, i can feel it." he whispers on your neck as a devilish smirk overtakes his kisses, "i fucking knew it. i knew you would lose."

his words nearly egg you on as you accept defeat, allowing yourself to succumb to the slow pace of his length sliding against your insides. your fingers curl with the repeated motion, a continuous build up until eventually you burst and your orgasm hits you hard.

it causes you to wriggle against him, contracting your body so tightly you’re shaking then releases you, repeating this over and over again all the while bf!mingi keeps his kisses coming on your neck.

like said, this is always his favorite part of the game. the thing he looks most forward to. because no matter how hard you've tried, it always ends the same.

"aww," he notices your high coming down, excluding the occasional body twitches, "and the movie was almost over."

"you're awful." you could hardly muster that sentence, your back resting on top of his chest while you regain your composure. your cunt still pulsed every now and then around him.

he supplies a silent laugh before going in your ear once more, "well, look at it this way. now we can go home and play your favorite game."

while bf!mingi returns back to his seat, bringing you with him, a small whimper is produced by you. because absolutely not what was to come, your favorite game. in fact, it felt merely like an extension of this game.

‘how many different ways are you gonna make bf!mingi cum tonight?’

#ateez smut #ateez #song mingi #mingi #mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez mingi #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez x reader smut #song mingi x reader #black reader ateez smut #teeskzagain #let’s try this again 🙌#ateez imagines #ateez fluff

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filthyf1 · 4 months ago

Text

A Long Short Time

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

content warning: MINORS DNI (18+); Porn WITH Plot, cunnilingus, blowjob, unprotected sex, slightly tipsy sex?... Not entirely healthy relationship dynamics….

summary: Daniel and you broke up two months ago. He comes back to get the last of his things…. And the rest is history.

word count: 5k

author's notes: AHHHHHH this was so nerve wracking.... it's been so long since I've written anything so please let me know your thoughts!!!

____

Two months. A short time that felt like a millenia to you. The apartment felt emptier than usual. He wasn’t there often before, but it was more than never. Life felt slow and tedious, and you weren’t exactly adapting well.

It had been two months since you and Daniel broke up. That felt like such a silly and simple way to explain it, but that’s exactly what happened. It was and then it wasn’t. Four years and it was over just like that.

Daniel was let go from VCARB after the Singapore GP. The fans could tell something was wrong from his interviews, and their guesses were spot on. He’d known it was the end and given it his all, understanding that it wouldn’t be enough. His whole life came to an abrupt halt, just like that. What was the point of contracts in the first place? It felt like a crime to let him go before COTA, and yet…

Just as his career came to a screeching halt, your relationship did as well. The comfort you thought you could give was simply not enough. Nothing you could say or do could make it right. It made sense even if it hurt. What do you do when the thing you’ve worked for your whole life gets pulled out from under you? Some people cope and move on, collect the pieces and figure out how to go forward. Some people burn the rest of the world around them and crash.

What began as trying to comfort him turned into an all-out shouting match and ended in the door slamming behind him.

“I can’t do this! What the fuck would you do?”

“I don’t know! Lean on my friends? Family? My fucking girlfriend, maybe?”

“Well, nothing like this has happened to you. You just get to sit around and be pretty. Life is so fucking easy for you.”

That last one stung - his sharp words certainly hit their mark. You played the conversation over and over again in your head for the past 60 days, trying to think of an alternative ending.

The movers eventually came and took his things, leaving both the space and your heart wide and empty. And that was how the past two months went. Your apartment was small, but when a whole other person’s things were removed, it felt much too large.You got to see him unwind and find himself by his own posts and his friends’ on social media. The news outlets were fucking annoying. Apparently, one of the most interesting things to report on was an F1 driver’s relationship status. And the paparazzi had exactly as much sympathy as you expected. You were sure there were at least a dozen photos of you crying floating around on Twitter, Facebook, etc.

It was your turn to feel stuck. You felt like the last four years were a waste. What were you working towards? It was upended so swiftly and easily. You saw Daniel regaining the light back in his eyes while he attended sporting events and went dirt biking with his friends. You sat in your flat drinking wine and looking at the city lights contemplating what could have been.

There were things you wanted to accomplish that you put on the back burner and now regretted never pursuing. Maybe once you got your spirit back, you’d go after the fashion degree or write that book that always sat in the back of your mind. Just a little bit more groveling…

What really hurt was finding things the movers missed. Little things here and there that you knew he would miss, a helmet here, a jersey there. So instead of burning them like a lot of people might, you gathered them and put them in a box. You put your big girl pants on and sent him a text, hoping it would still go through, and let him know he could pick it up whenever he was back in the city. And to your surprise, not only did the message go through, but he answered. It was the only thing you’d heard from him since he left and unfortunately, you clung to it.

It was another Friday night that wine was your companion. Your friend had visited for a few days for some gossip and retail therapy, but unfortunately she had left earlier that day and you let the loneliness seep back in. The riesling helped dull it a little bit. You were halfway through the bottle, feeling the pleasant buzz settle into your muscles.

Music swept through your apartment while you danced and cleaned things here and there when your phone dinged on the counter, interrupting the melody you were currently feeling. Thinking it was your friend who forgot her lipstick on your counter, you swiped the message open without a second thought. Once you read it, however, the blood drained from your face and you looked on in horror.

Be there in 20 if you’re still awake.

Okay…. Okay. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were very much not sober enough for this. The bottle of wine looked on in amusement and you glared at it, as if it wasn’t your choice to partake in the first place. That still didn’t stop you from chugging the rest of the glass in front of you. Maybe it would help you to be more relaxed or cool in his presence. You glanced at the clock on your oven.

11:20PM.

Late, but not ridiculously so. You wondered what exactly he was doing in the country. But that wasn’t really any of your business anymore.

It was fully in your right to deny him, let him know it was not a good time to stop by. Your sober self needed 3 to 5 business days to prepare for this, but your tipsy self wanted him to stop by now. Your chest ached at the thought of seeing his face again in person. You craved it desperately. Against your better judgement, your fingers sent out a quick, “Ok.”

Oh, God, what were you doing?

Simply put, you fucking missed him. There was no denying or getting around it.

“Fuck, this is happening,” you breathed to yourself. You ran a hand through your hair, a nervous mess. You ran to the bathroom to do a once over; you looked as much a mess as you expected. Hair everywhere and eyes slightly glassy from alcohol. You swallowed hard, trying to fix things, but gave up after a minute or two.

Sitting back in your kitchen, you nursed another glass of wine. There was no going back now, so you might as well commit. A knock came a few minutes later, causing you to jump in your seat.

“Fuck,” one more for the road.

You approached the door slowly like a victim in a horror movie. One last hesitation, and the door swung open and there he was.

He stood tall, not at all bowed under the pressure he had experienced so recently. His hair was longer than you remembered, the curls so perfect and tangled it hurt. They weren’t yours to run your hands through anymore. You were sure you looked sad and pathetic, and he stood in front of you looking healthy and radiant, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. He looked damn good.

A breathy, “Hi,” was all you could muster. You immediately kicked yourself internally. So much for keeping your cool. Daniel gave you a once over that made you feel hot inside and self-conscious at the same time.

“Hi,” he gave a soft smile and you nearly melted. It was such a stark difference from how your last conversation ended. You stood in silence for another few seconds, taking him in. This was how you wanted to remember him.

“Fuck, uh, sorry, I don’t have your stuff here,” you shook yourself out of the trance. “Do you… want to come in for a minute?” You weren’t sure if this was a good idea or not. You didn’t have a great track record with exes and them visiting your place of residence.

“I’ve got the time,” he said.

You’d be lying if a plethora of less than innocent thoughts were running through your head. He looked better than you remembered, and the feelings were still there, ready to be unearthed at a moment's notice.

He took everything in. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension and you wondered what he was thinking. His eyes settled on the empty wine glass and less than full bottle.

“Been drinking?” He asked and a smirk settled onto his lips. His facial hair was growing in, and you’d be lying if your mind didn’t wander. Beard burn was a hell of a drug.

“Yea,” you said sheepishly, a hand running through your hair to dispel your nerves. “There’s whiskey if you want a drink. I still have your favorite… I don’t really drink it…” You trailed off, not really expecting him to accept. You thought he would be itching to leave as soon as possible, the weight of the last conversation heavy on your mind. To your surprise, he opened the cabinet that he knew very well and grabbed the whiskey. He grabbed a glass (that cabinet never changed either) and poured himself a double.

“Cheers,” he held the cup out. You poured the rest of the wine into your stemmed glass and clinked your glass against his. You paused, watching him down the glass, his Adam's apple bobbing and a single droplet of whiskey dripping from his lips and trailing down his neck. Sinful thoughts flashed across your eyes, but long gone now were the days where you could lick it away. You averted your eyes quickly and drank your wine in one swift gulp. Anything to distract you from the images circling through your head.

“You’ve been doing well - at least from what I’ve seen,” you placed the wine glass down in the kitchen sink and Daniel followed suit. The heat of his body was heavy behind you, his arm right next to yours. You fought everything in you to fight freezing. Surely, he wasn’t doing this on purpose? You didn’t have much time to contemplate as his body was gone in the next moment.

He leaned against the kitchen counter - his arms propped his body up and you chose to avert your eyes from his toned form. Two months was clearly not enough time to stop those thoughts from clouding your mind. Was it you or did he just look you up and down?

“I’ve been… okay,” he didn’t elaborate, but the silence explained enough. Maybe it was easier to put on a smile for the camera.

“You still miss it,” it wasn’t a question.

“Every day,” he nearly whispered. His warm brown eyes held yours for a second too long and you wondered if you were still talking about racing. You cleared your throat, not totally sure how to address that.

“Things ended pretty poorly, huh,” you averted your eyes. Now was not the time to let your tears get the best of you. Your last argument was the elephant in the room and you’d explode if you avoided it for another second. There was a tightly wound bundle of resentment, pain, and anger in your stomach. You were mad at him for walking away. Mad that he seemed to get over things pretty damn quick while you were still fumbling for a grasp on things. Mad that he walked right back in like nothing happened.

“You could say that again,” he said simply. You went to speak again but he cut you off. “I’m sorry for the things I said.”

Your eyes shot to his. He wasn’t really one to open up and talk about things like that. He tended to take things out on the track and work through them that way. He didn’t have that anymore though, so maybe he found talking was easier these days.

“Thank you,” you said roughly. Blinking rapidly to stop tears from coming forward. What were you supposed to do now? You never stopped loving him, but you were feeling so many other conflicting feelings at the same time. Daniel made a move as if to come forward and comfort you, then thought twice about it. He was obviously feeling a lot of things too. He cleared his throat.

“So, you said you put everything in a box?” He looked around. If things were heavy before, they weighed a ton now.

“Um, yes, your stuff is in the hall closet. I put it in a box for you - I’m not sure it'll fit in whatever car you drove, but you can always send someone to pick it up for you,” you over-explained as you walked towards said storage. Were you delirious or was that his body heat on your back? This time it did not disappear.

You slowed, turning to face him. He was as close as you suspected, his strong frame standing over you. His pupils were blown, his breathing slightly accelerated. You’d be a fool to deny that his scent was intoxicating. The same cologne and musk you remembered that was distinctly Daniel made your head spin. You swallowed hard and Daniel’s eyes flickered down to your eyes then your throat.

“Daniel?”

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed out, his voice deep and husky. Your heart pounded hard in your chest. You wanted this more than anything. You wished he’d just kiss you already. Your body ached to feel his against yours again. It had been so long. You were both suspended in time, your eyes locked with each others’.

“I missed you, too,” you replied. He looked relieved at that, like he thought you had moved on. As if you’d ever be able to do that.

“Yea?” He was even quieter that time.

“So fucking much.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I wish you would.”

Whatever dam was once there broke in an instant. Daniel surged forward and his lips enveloped yours. You couldn’t help the groan that leaked from your throat. You missed this so much it hurt. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. His other hand found the back of your neck and his fingers wrapped into your hair. His body was hot against yours, your skin searing wherever it touched his. He backed you into the wall without his lips leaving yours once. You eagerly reached your hands to his hair and pulled on the curls you missed so much which earned you a groan in return. You fit together like two puzzle pieces.

You gulped in air as he moved his attention to your neck, his facial hair scratching you in the way you remembered. Words couldn’t describe how much you missed this. His leg parted yours to push against your clothed cunt and pin you to the wall. God, if he thought you were moaning like a whore now… He suckled hard on the soft skin of your collar bone and your fingers tightened in his hair.

Things were complicated, sure, but this was here and now. Right now you were feeling pretty damn good for many reasons and your present self didn’t care much about the potential consequences. Daniel was a man starved and you were an oasis in the desert.

“Take me to the fucking bedroom before I strip you here,” you barely got out.

“Can do,” he replied between pressing kisses up your neck. “Not that I would entirely mind…” His strong arms moved to loop under your thighs and lift you up easily. He took a moment to hold you against the wall and kiss you again. His need was as evident as yours; you could feel him straining against his jeans. His tongue was hot and furious against yours and you feared being fully consumed by him.

Your body temperature was running at one-thousand degrees and you felt like you were about to burst. Daniel’s tongue was wet and insistent against yours and you drank him in. Soft groans echoed from him and you could barely handle it. He carried you to your room, placing you softly onto your plush bed. His body was heavy upon yours, barely holding himself above you. You took the opportunity to roll your hips against his, eliciting a moan from both of you. You wondered if he was with anyone in your absence and then quickly pushed that thought away. It was none of your business, and you chose to believe the answer was no based on the way he was acting.

Your hands trailed around each other; you missed the feel of each others’ bodies. Something told you that neither of you would last long. Already you feel yourself soaking through your panties.

Barely able to tear himself from you, Daniel managed to rip his shirt off. He looked just as good as ever and your mouth watered at the happy trail disappearing into his pants.

“See something you like?” He grins evilly.

“Shut the fuck up and take my pants off,” you sigh. He did not need to be told twice. Your pants were removed in a flash leaving you in your underwear and shirt. The shirt was quickly removed after. Lucky for you, it was nearing laundry day which meant you had only your skimpiest and laciest underwear leftover.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Daniel sighed.

“I’d apologize but I’m not sorry…”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he leaned back in and placed soft kisses down your torso. His hands pawed your chest roughly, pinching your nipples between his fingers and causing you to keen into him. He came back to place one more kiss on your lips and captured your bottom lip between his teeth to nip at the soft, swollen skin. You rolled your hips into his again but this time he caught them and pushed his own into you to fight back. Everything with him was a delicious push and pull.

He edged back down, but not without placing wet kisses along your torso on his way there. He grabbed the band of your underwear between his teeth and pulled them off. His eyes held yours as he did so and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. The man knew how to make you blush, that was for sure. They peeled back from your dripping pussy in a way that was almost embarrassing. You didn’t miss when he took the panties and shoved them into his back pocket.

His lips ghosted over the inside of your thighs and drank you in in a way that made you light headed. You wanted nothing more than him to put his fucking mouth to work. He could sense your urgency and gave a cheeky chuckle.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this as much as me. I’ll suck your dick if you hurry up and eat me out,” you threatened.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His mouth was warm and the pleasure shot deep through your core as soon as he ran his tongue over you.

“Fuck,” you barely managed. Your head hit the mattress - Daniel held you tight and didn’t allow an inch for you to squirm. Your legs draped over his shoulders and your toes curled as he worked on you. The wet sounds that came from your cunt were sinful; when Daniel paused for air and to smile at you, you could see his chin glistening. He was relentless, moaning into your folds and your head started swirling. “Daniel,” you gasped and one hand clawed at his shoulder while the other held tightly to his hair. “I’m not gonna last - if you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” he barely pulled back. Now that he had that information, he didn’t hold back and within a minute you were writhing and moaning underneath him as white hot pleasure coursed through you. He alternated between sucking and swirling his tongue around your clit. His strong arms barely flexed to hold you down as your hips rolled against his tongue. He only relented when your hips stuttered as you became overstimulated. You were gasping and swearing. It was way too long since you’d felt like this. He pulled back, but only far enough to place more open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along your thighs. He let you recover and kissed his way back up your body on your hips, your stomach, your breasts, and finally your collarbones and neck.

“Sooooo, you said something about getting my dick sucked?” He asked and completely evaporated the heavy mood. You couldn’t help the laugh that exploded from you and you hit his shoulder weakly. He fell back dramatically on the bed, holding his shoulder in mock pain. “You wound me, woman!”

The light humor was nice, but it made your heart ache. You missed this so much and you realized that this ended with Daniel walking out the door. This was all a moment of passion after time apart. He’d take the rest of his things and go back to his life and you’d go back to yours. Instead of wallowing, you chose to shove it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment that was happening in front of you. You put the smile back on your face and turned your attention back to Daniel. You kissed him deeply and softly once and ignored the slightly confused look on his face.

You pushed him back into the bed and he propped his head up by putting his hands behind his head, and you swallowed hard at his flexing biceps. He still wore his jeans so you palmed him roughly through the thick fabric which earned you a look that could kill. You licked a stripe over the coarse hair that sprouted up his stomach. He was hot and salty with sweat and you craved to take him into your mouth.

Removing his belt slowly, you teased him; how much could he take? To your surprise, he was exceedingly patient and looked down at you with a disgusting smirk. You pulled down his jeans and wiped said smirk off his face by placing a feather light kiss over his clothed cock. He smelled hot and musky, and you couldn’t wait to strip him completely. The pants and boxer briefs came off together and got tossed somewhere along the rest of the clothes on the floor.

He was just as you remembered. You suppressed the whine that built in your throat. He was already cocky enough; he didn’t need to know you missed sucking him off. You took as much of him in your mouth as you could, the rest taken care of by your hands. Another thing he didn’t need to add to his ego was his size. He was heavy and warm on your tongue with the sting of bitter saltiness from the precum that leaked from his swollen, red tip. A deep groan came from him and you looked up to see his head thrown back and his bottom lips caught between his teeth. A small ego boost for you too.

You dragged your tongue from his base to his tip. Following the thick vein that ran up his length, you took him in again and hollowed your cheeks. He couldn’t control the groans and moans that spilled from him and one of his hands came down to wind through your hair and hold it up.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Bold of him, but you had to admit you missed this possessive side of him. You obliged him and looked him dead in the eyes but did not pause your ministrations. You let him push his hips into your mouth to fuck your throat. You were out of practice and gagged once before holding it back. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you loved it. You swallowed around his length and his hand tightened painfully in your hair. His hips thrusted against his own will and his eyes squeezed shut. “Okay… okay, stop, or I’m not gonna make it to the main event,” he breathed heavily. Still got it, you thought smugly. You released him but not before placing one last kiss on the crevice between his crotch and his thigh which earned you a satisfying twitch.

You climbed up, settling yourself on his lower stomach. This was one of both of your favorite positions. Daniel loved seeing you above him, riding his cock and finding the exact right spot that got you off. It was a position that allowed you both some control and he liked being able to see your face. You scooted back and grabbed his length, ready to position him and sink down when he halted you by catching your hips in both of his hands.

“Fuck, I didn't bring a condom,” he sighed and paused. You almost lost your mind.

“I don't fucking care,” you moaned and pushed against him. “And I'm still on the pill.”

“You didn't stop it?”

“Just be glad I didn't and fuck me already, Daniel,” you whined. You knew adding his name would be the cherry on top of a cake he couldn't deny. He took the head of his leaking cock, swiping it through your folds to collect the excessive wetness there, and pressed himself into you slowly. The stretch ached deliciously. It had definitely been awhile. Daniel hissed between his teeth as you sunk down on his length inch by agonizing inch.

When he was fully inside of you, you took a moment to adjust. You steadied yourself with your hands on Daniel’s chest, and he grabbed your wrists to pull you back down to him. Your lips met his in a surprisingly tender kiss that stirred things in your chest that you were having trouble keeping buried. You blinked away tears for the second time that night, but this time a warm hand came to cup your cheek and stroke the skin there.

Whatever happened tonight, you hoped you and Daniel talked after this. He brought you so much joy and comfort. His warm brown eyes held yours as if to say everything would be okay.

“Okay, I’m fine. You can start moving,” you breathed out and began rocking your hips. He listened and held your hips to guide you up and down on his cock. He felt just as good as you remembered. Maybe better. The room was filled with the harmony of your moans and the wet, rhythmic slaps of your hips meeting each other. There was no sweeter sound.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he moaned. “So fucking good for me. So tight and fucking soaking. All for me,” his hips snapped to meet your movements. Him calling you baby lit a spark in your belly and spurred you on.

“Faster. Fuck me faster, Daniel,” you whined, desperately chasing your high. He complied and moved faster and harder. He stuck his two forefingers in your mouth and you sucked on them, your tongue swirling around the digits. You looked at him through your lashes and he groaned deeply. You felt deeply in your soul that only you two could have this effect on each other. His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing deeper and faster, and you knew he was nearing the edge. You decided to spur him on, wanting to hear his sweet sounds and see the beautiful face he made when he reached it. You beared down on him, squeezing him and matching his rhythm.

“You’re so good, Danny. You make me feel so good,” you could barely get the words out.

His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to maintain his composure. Sweat beaded on his brow and shined on his chest. One hand left your hip to rub quick circles on your clit to give it right back to you. You were so sensitive from earlier that the effect was immediate. One hand flew to muffle the sounds coming out of you, but Daniel ripped it away. He wanted to hear every sound uninhibited.

He held on until your orgasm crashed over you. You hoped you wouldn’t be receiving a noise complaint from your neighbors the next day, but would understand why if you did. Your thighs shook and you couldn’t control how you rutted against Daniel like a crazed person. That was all he could take and his hands tightened painfully into your soft skin. He bit his lips hard and his eyes screwed shut. His hips hit once, twice more before slowing. Was that a whine coming from him? God, that sound alone could make you cum again. You reveled in the bliss, slowly moving your hips to ride it out.

The room was quiet for a few minutes after, save the heaving breathing coming from both of you. Finally, you pulled yourself from Daniel, a soft sigh coming from him. You were battling yourself on what to do next. Now that it was over… What came next? Maybe you would take a hot shower and then he’d be gone with his things when you emerged. That was usually how this kind of story went, right? At least he wouldn’t be around to see you fall apart.

You made a start to get off the bed, but a warm hand wrapped around your wrist. You were pulled back down. Warm arms wrapped around you and then you were laying against his overheated body, your legs draped over his like nothing had ever changed.

“Don’t go,” he said into the top of your head.

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula one #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 fic

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muwapsturniolo · 6 months ago

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Hockey!matt

First post in the AU!

MATT STURNIOLO: PASSIONATE OR A HOT HEAD?

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, a 24-year-old triplet native to Boston Massachusetts. According to his parents, from a young age he and his youngest brother Christopher Owen Sturniolo, were always interested in sports. Seeing this, the parents decided to throw the boys in any sport they could. They started off playing for their town's soccer team, a typical thing for most kids to do. However, it seemed as if the sport wasn't enough for a young Matthew. It was too easy, he cleared all the other kids without even trying. Seeing this, his parents threw him into another sport, lacrosse. Now this held Matthew over for a long time until it became boring, he needed something more.

That's when hockey came into play, a sport most boys in Boston find solace in during the cold months. The sport seemed to be Matt's calling, the ice feeling like a second home. His talent was natural, something most people couldn't obtain no matter how much they trained. He ended up loving the sport so much, he made it his full-time career.

At age 17, he graduated high school alongside his two brothers and their childhood best friend. All four boys managed to get full-ride scholarships to Boston University, a school that had many NCAA wins, and has sent many players to the NHL. Matt took control of the Terriers by force, quickly becoming the captain when only being a freshman. Many of his former teammates and coaches had good things to say about him, but something stood out to me. That something was his anger.

"He was a hothead, always shouting and yelling at us during practice"

"There were a couple of times where he broke his stick and punched a locker after losing a game"

"I remember he argued with our coach one day. The argument was so bad, both of them just ripping into each other. It escalated so quick, one second they were shouting and the next Matt was throwing punches."

All of these are quotes by old teammates who would like to stay anonymous.

It was an evident pattern that managed to follow him to where he is now, the lucky star of the Boston Bruins. I had the specialty of sitting in on some of the practices, seeing how the men work with each other. Just like I expected, Matt was a force to be reckoned with. He yelled and berated some of his teammates, even going as far as getting into an argument with his own brother. It's hard to tell if it's just him being driven by passion, or if he simply has anger issues. I chose to go with the latter considering what I saw during the first game of the preseason.

The Bruins were losing against the New York Rangers, not that the score mattered. The preseason is mainly for the coaches to evaluate their team and see who fits where. So why was Matt Sturniolo causing fights, yelling at refs, and being an overall hothead? He resembled the Hulk, the brute green giant who was also a hothead when angry. It seems as if no matter the situation, training, preseason, or the actual NHL season, he was locked in and out for blood.

He's passionate about the sport, perhaps too passionate. Would it be his downfall? Would the Bruins let him go and leave him to reminisce about his glory days while he rots? We will have to tune in to this year's NHL season to find out."

Y/n Y/L * october 3rd, 2024

AHHHHHH A NEW TROPE/AU!!!!! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS! IF THIS IS CONFSUING IM SORRY! I TRIED TO MAKE THIS INTRO THE ARTICLE READER (AKA YOU) WROTE ABOUT MATT WHICH JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE HOW YALL MEET! I HOPE THIS GIVES A GOOD BACKGROUND! I PLAN ON DOING FICS FOR THIS AU BUT IM ALSO WILLING TO DO BLURBS JUST HOW I DID FOR BUNNY!READER!!!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!!

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine

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donatellawritings · 1 year ago

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tella baby it’s ♡ anon I LOVE SWEETHEART READER but J was wondering what if Rafe were with an Americana aesthetic reader? I imagine her being a very vintage-esque girl who loves picnics, farm work, listening to Lana, thrift shopping, sucking lollipops, wearing small shorts and denim skirts, just your typical girl next door OMG sorry if this is too long of an ask I can send a shorter one ahhhhhh ♡ ♡

this is perfect! ugh i love this sm <3

rafe had met you, through the likes of his sister, sarah — she’d stumbled upon your parents’ land during one of her bike rides through figure 8, her lips parted in awe at the sight of you brushing the shiny coat of your white camarillo horse, who’d she quickly learn was named ‘leche’ a silly name that stuck since you first got the horse as an innocent child. that one question about your beloved horse, was all it took for you and sarah to become engrossed in an hours-long conversation about anything and everything. she fell in love with everything about you — your big bombshell hair, cutesy doll lashes, skimpy baby pink polka dot bikini top, and even skimpier daisy dukes, all the way down to the adorable butterfly belly button ring that adorned your tummy.

the moment you’d exchanged the pleasantries of learning each other’s names, sarah was quick to make you her very best friend, your latin tongue making itself known as you spoke, leaving the perky blonde even more entranced by you — making sure that you had her phone number, before she pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your horse’s nose, turning to send you a small wave as she got back on her bike, pedaling her way back to tannyhill. the two of you were pathetically giddy and the potential of your budding friendship, you both were left giggling into the late hours of the night, before ending the call with plans for you to teach sarah how to ride a horse, tomorrow. it wasn’t until you had been friends for about six months, that sarah decided that you should come over to her house for once, she’d grown to accustomed to the judgement-free air that came with being on the farm with you.

sure, you lived on figure 8, but your family’s property teetered on the fine line of being considered part of the cut, but your parents were insistent on you being in an environment where you could experience the lavish side of life. so, as you got to know sarah cameron, the daunting thought of stepping foot inside of tannyhill had left you a nervous mess as you meticulously dolled yourself up. latin music flowed softly through your speaker as you squeezed your tube of glittery lipgloss between your sparkly cotton candy pink acrylic nails, precisely smearing the sticky gloss across your swollen lips, mushing them together before your pulled away from the mirror of your vanity with a content sigh.

carefully clasping your rosary around your neck, you gently combed your nails through the ends of your perfectly curled hair, before smoothing your hands down your strapless micro dress, the lace and silk lined cups that confined your breasts, adorned with a neatly sewed bow, pushing them up cutely against your chest as you slipped your feet into dainty white kitten heels, before rushing downstairs, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor as you stepped out onto your driveway, silently praying to yourself that you wouldn’t make an absolute fool of yourself. i mean, it was only meant to be an innocent lunch where you’d meet your best friend’s family — surely, in your little naive mind, you manipulated yourself into believing that nothing too bad could come from having lunch with the cameron family. right?

you were broken from your whiplash-inducing thoughts with parted sticky and swollen lips as the sound of sarah’s familiar car horn filled your pearl-earring adorned ears.

୨୧

with a sigh, sarah linked her arm through yours, biting down into her bottom lip as the two of you stepped inside of the grandeur that was tannyhill. before the two of you could exceed the confines of the foyer, she pulled away from you, suddenly overcome with the impending annoyance and embarrassment that came with introducing people to her family, specifically, her older brother. your dolly lashes fluttered together as your eyes softened with confusion.

before sarah could speak, the staggering height of ward cameron stopping behind sarah came into your line of vision, your lips parting as he clasped a fatherly hand down onto his daughter’s shoulder as she forced a warm smile at you, “hi sweetie,” he pressed his lips to sarah’s head, squeezing her shoulder before he pulled away from sarah, extending a firm hand in your direction, “s’a pleasure to finally meet you, i’m mr. cameron,” ward smiled, nodding approvingly as you revealed your name, enveloping your small hand around his as you politely shook his hand.

“hi mr. cameron,” you extended a courteous smile, fighting back a laugh as you watched sarah roll her eyes teasingly.

with a clap of his large hands, ward stepped to the side, “well, we don’t want to keep everyone waiting outside, your brother should be home soon, sarah,” ward breathes out a laugh, your wide eyes sparkling with awe as you walked through the grandeur main room of tannyhill. sarah allowed a giddy smile to pull on her pout as she took in your observant gaze. she loved how despite your status of living on figure 8, you remained humble, extending kindness to every person and animal you came across, so much so that it inspired her to treat even the smallest bugs with utmost respect.

“your home is beautiful, mr. cameron,” you beamed, lashes fluttering as you stepped out into the pristinely decorated backyard. your brief moment of shock once again overtaken by your meddlesome nerves as you approached the flower adorned table, smoothing your hands underneath the plush curve of your ass, before taking your seat beside sarah.

the table was quiet as your wiped your clammy hands against your dress, suddenly overcome with insecurity as sarah’s stepmother and younger sister stared at you, their eyes greedily drinking you in. with parted lips, you began to speak when wheezie suddenly cut in, “you’re really hot,” she blurted, your parted lips expanding into a flushed smile as sarah snorted beside you, a complete contrast from the stern and bewildered stares that wheezie received from ward and rose.

“that was so inappropriate, wheezie,” rose scolded with a displeased roll of her eyes, before turning to face ward who kept his stern eyes on wheezie who sunk into her seat.

you were quick to mouth ‘thank you’ to the younger girl, before turning your attention to ward who let out out a sharp sigh, running a hand over his face, before forcing a smile, “alright, well — my son should be home any minute, so please, feel free to help yourself to what’s on the table,” ward motioned to the array of salad, sandwiches, fruits, and pitchers of juice that covered the table. with a shaky hand, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, licking over your glossed lips as sarah did followed suit, filling her glass.

just as you brought the glass to your lips, the sight of a tall young man, with greasy strands of hair fanning over his face approached the table, dressed in a black button up and khaki pants. fuck, he was hot. subconsciously your pressed your thighs together, focusing your attention on swallowing down the citrusy juice that flooded your tongue.

“nice of you to join us, rafe — have a seat, son,” ward spoke gruffly, watching closely as rafe took the seat at the opposite end of the table, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took in your presence. his bright blue eyes immediately went the swells of your pushed-up breasts, before flickering up to meet your shy gaze, earning a disgusted scoff from sarah. ward did not miss his son’s inappropriate transgression, clearing his throat to gather the attention of the table, “son, this is sarah’s friend,” ward introduced you, rafe’s eyes remaining on yours as your name fell from ward’s mouth, causing rafe’s eyebrows to raise in intrigue as his head cocked to the side.

rafe decided that he had to toy with you, see if you truly were as light and airy as your physical appearance portrayed as he parted his pink lips, “yeah? how’d you get so lucky to meet my sweet sister, sarah?” rafe spoke, his tone pathetically condescending as he carefully watched you awkwardly shift in your sweet. you were a skittish one — he liked that.

with a forced and breathy laugh, you smiled politely, “she was riding her bike and she saw my horse, leche,” you answered truthfully, earning an amused chuckle from rafe that left you somewhat embarrassed. your doe eyes were quick to glaze as you swallowed thickly, before you turned to sarah.

“rafe, don’t be such a dick,” sarah spat, earning a corrective tut from ward as rafe glanced at his father with feigned confusion.

leaning forward, rafe focused his attention onto sarah, a tall knowing smirk on his face, “easy, sarah — m’just getting to know your little friend, i mean, isn’t that why she’s here?” rafe pushes further, returning his eyes to yours as your fingers fiddled with the silk trims that lined the hem of your dress. “she’s a big girl, i’m sure that she could speak up for her-” rafe began, before he was harshly cut off by the slam of ward’s closed fist colliding with the table, causing rafe to silence, his jaw clenched as he closed his eager mouth.

there was a part of you that felt bad for rafe, you almost felt responsible for his scolding, your soft eyes didn’t miss the way he flinched as ward hit the table. you could see that rafe just wanted attention, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore to subtle ache in your chest as he remained silent for the duration of the lunch, his eyes hanging low as the rest of the cameron family made polite conversation with you. it wasn’t until the entirety of the table went off to do their own thing, that you turned to rafe who blankly stared at his empty plate.

going against sarah’s wishes, you insisted on at least trying to talk to rafe and sarah knew that you’d simply felt bad for her brother — it was in your nature to want to fix anything that was broken. so, you remained seated, flipping your hair over your shoulder as your eyes feel on the gold signet ring that dressed rafe’s finger, “i like your ring,” you smiled, your core simmering as rafe brought his eyes to yours, his blank face empty of any definite expression.

“look — y’just a naive little girl who is my sister’s friend, not mine, y’understand?” rafe snapped, fighting back every urge not to bend you over the table as your glossed lips slightly quivered at his harsh words. your stomach churned with embarrassment as your eyes welled with hot threatening tears, “y’don’t speak to me, unless i speak to you, a’ight?” he spat, swallowing back the bitter guilt that became apparent in his tongue as you furiously nodded in your seat.

“okay,” you squeaked out, before hastily standing from your seat as you rushed to make your way back inside of the home, before rafe could see the fat tears that rolled down your blushy cheeks.

rafe knew that he had been a bit too harsh towards you, but he could tell that you needed some tough love — i mean, what was wrong with some redirection? your head was too far up in the clouds, and that would end up getting you into trouble that not even your pretty and swollen smile would be able to get out of. and what kind of a man would rafe be, if he didn’t look out for you, keep an eye out for you … even if it meant that he stole a glance up your dress as you tearfully walked away from him.

#♡ anon #asks #stoppp because americana!reader is so cute #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #obx imagine #obx #americana!reader

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bumblebriez · 11 days ago

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Love Stricken (PT.3)

(Gojo Satoru x Chubby!Fem!Reader)

(PT.1) (PT.2) (PT.4)

⚠️⚠️⚠️: Swearing, no smut in this one, just a bit of love and a BAD possessive Ex.

Never in a million years would you think, you'd catch the eyes of a certain jujutsu sorcerer but you did and with that came alot of consequences. That you would eventually find out the hard way.

Your parents vanished a good couple of years ago with no knowledge of why and where, leaving you; the eldest, to care and provide for your younger siblings. Being responsible and forgetting about the life you used to live, you felt lost. Struggling a lot with your self worth.

Your best friend took it upon herself to finally get you to live your life a little more by taking you out on the town for a night.

But you found that night was the start of your downfall.

Ahhhhhh hah heeeyyy 🫣

So we listen and we don’t judge..

Nah but for real, apologies for taking a long time, I really haven’t picked up any of my works, I just haven’t been motivated to write at all but what I did end up writing ages ago, I just finished. Just a reminder this isn’t following the plot, there will be aspects from it but not really.

Im gonna try and motivate myself more because I really do enjoy writing and I was really enjoying getting into the rhythm of this one. I have some… plans for this.

Sadly this chapter isn’t as long as the last two but I’ll make up for it. Appreciate the support! Thank you for reading! <3

********

GIF by saewrq

********

It been a good couple of weeks since you heard from Gojo. You quite literally held onto the fact he would call you back later.

You convinced yourself that he was just busy to save yourself some pity.

You’d kind of wished you had forgotten the whole thing but atlas, you didn’t. Every night you laid there, staring at your phone; waiting for his name to flash on the screen.

And now you’re thinking; maybe you should have called him instead.

Maybe you were in over your head already.

Maybe you were feeling delusional.

Another week goes by and you find yourself standing in your small kitchen, staring at a new bouquet of flowers that sat upon the counter.

You had assumed that they were from Gojo, though it didn’t say. You wouldn’t lie.. it was a cute gesture but it pissed you off. How did he have the time to send you fucking flowers but not send you a simple text?

Your phone resting in your hand and you struggle to tap on his contact. You run your free hand through your messy hair; trying and failing at calming your overwhelming body.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, you place your phone softly on the counter. Anxiety ran through your veins, shaking your body at the simple thought of even sending a text.

You didn’t want to seem… needy.

Even though you haven’t even tried to talk to the man.

Maybe you were playing too much and you just missed out on something that could’ve been great.

All these intrusive thoughts ran through your head, making you feel worse and worse. You fail to notice little eyes peering up at you.

“Sidda?” You break from your trance, turning to look down at the little strawberry blonde haired girl. Her little fingers wrapping around the edge of the hoodie, you wore.

“Yes baby?” You hummed, crouching down to her level.

“Are we still going to the park today, like you promised?”Her body swayed slightly as if she was nervous to ask. The question immediately triggering a previous memory of the promise from last week.

“Shit.” You whispered to yourself, Akari not hearing your swear.

“Yes.. yes! Of course. Go get your brother and we can get ready to leave.” Your eyes fluttered to your kitchen window, the bright sun rays shining through.

It is a beautiful day.

A day for distractions.

You watched excitement spread across the wee girl’s face; your lips curl into a smile.

Akari darts off, wasting no more time; her voice echoing throughout the house, hollering after her brother.

You take one last look at your phone; a desperate attempted at manifestation.

Demolishing every last bit of hope you clung onto, you let out a sigh of defeat. Your feet move before your body as they slowly stride out of the kitchen.

At least it was a good night. One you most likely won’t forget.

Little to your knowledge, the day was only beginning.

A faded smile sits on your lips as you watch the memory play on your phone. It was an old video, one where Akari didn’t even exist yet.

You watch as your father hoists your little brother into the air when he was just a wee boy, his giggling flew out of your phone’s speakers.

A familiar sadness filled your core as you swiped to another video.

Your mother was cradling her newborn in her arms, a cute little girl. Your mother’s eyes were filled with so much love as she stared down at Akari. It wasn’t long after that they had vanished, leaving nothing but leaving you with everything.

Your tongue swiped at your bottom lip, wetting the dryness as you lock your phone, having enough of reminiscing.

You look over to where your siblings had gone off too and see your little brother pushing your baby sister on the swing.

Families walked past you of all shapes and sizes, parents and their newborns. No broken families insight.

You were lost in your daze not noticing your little brother approaching you. Alone.

“Have you seen Akari?” You jump at the sudden voice, immediately alarmed.

“What do you mean Riku? She was just with you?” You exclaimed to the younger ebony haired boy, moving to stand up; your eyes scanning the playground equipment.

“I know. She just ran off, I assumed she was coming to you.” He said back, following you as you slowly made your way around the playground, looking for your little bundle of joy.

“You can’t take your eyes off her, you know that.”

“Why weren’t you watching then!” You chose to ignore his comment, knowing he was right. You should’ve known better.

Your pace started to speed up as you felt your heart leap into your throat. If anything happened to her, you would never forgive yourself.

“She kept saying something about patting the pretty doggy. Dogs aren’t even aloud in here.” Riku spoke as he kept up with you. That only made you worry even more, thinking she left the safety of the boundaries.

Both of you past the food stands, specifically the ice cream one, thinking maybe she changed her course and was wanting an ice cream.

You accidentally bumped into a man, not bothering to look up, too focused on your own.

You muttered a quick apology before setting off again, pulling your little brother with you.

The man stood in shock and confusion at the sudden impact that he was not expecting; watching as you disappeared from his view.

To your relief, the search was short lived as the familiar strawberry blonde started to come into view.

You sigh loudly as you made your way to her, seeing a teen crouched down, talking to the little girl.

“Akari! You can’t run off like that.” Ignoring the teen, you quickly pulled the girl into your arms, squeezing her tightly.

“I wanted to pat the pretty puppy.” Her voice croaked out as you held her at arms length.

“Honey. Dogs aren’t aloud in here.” You say softly as you caressed her plush red cheek in your hand.

“Yeah. Idiot.” Riku muttered lightly, earning a glare from you.

“Yes they are. It was his doggy!” She pointed to the teen behind her and you finally acknowledged the awkward teen as he stared at the little girl with a semi shocked expression.

“I’m sorry about her. She has a crazy imagination. Always running off to find something new.” You grumbled, standing to your feet, dusting the grit from your knees; attention on him.

“It’s.. fine.” The teen spoke with uncertainty, his dark blue eyes meeting yours. Making you feel a little uneasy as the shock was quick to go, replaced by a stoic expression.

“Thank you for staying with her..?”

“Megumi.”

“Megumi! Thank you. I appreciate it.” You exclaimed with a bright smile. He didn’t really respond, simply giving you a nod.

“Y/N?”

You turn to the man that was approaching your little group, who just happened to be the one you ran into earlier. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you’ve seen him from or why he felt so familiar.

He was sporting a dark blue jacket with a high collar and matching slim pants, along with a pair of black dress boots.

But what stood out the most to you was the black blindfold he was wearing.

Not to mention the deathly familiar pure white hair.

Just as you were going to apologise for bumping into him, it hit you like a truck.

“Satoru?”

“I see you’ve met one of my students.” He gestured to Megumi but your eyes never left his form.

You’ve been waiting for weeks to hear from this man.

And here he was. Two ice creams in his hands. At the park.

All kinds of feelings surge through your body as all kinds of thoughts swirled in your head.

Realising this was definitely not the place to speak your mind. You don’t speak.

at least to him.

“Come on kids. We’re leaving.” You mumbled down to your siblings. Avoiding wherever Gojo’s glaze was.

“But-“ Akari tried to protest but you just gave her a stern look, quick to interrupt her; your hands pushing against their backs.

“I said we’re leaving.”

Satoru was shocked when he saw you, he saw you a mile away. Excitement was brewing in his chest at the thought he’d finally get to see you again, to the point he’d purposely allowed you to bump into him; lowering his infinity.

But to his surprise, you didn’t recognise him. At least not right away.

He wasn’t going to lie.

He was expecting a bigger reaction from you than what he got.

And he knew deep down, he was definitely the cause.

Work was busy, it was very hands on; more than normal. These special grade curses were really giving it to him; especially Sukana and from that he didn’t realise how much time had passed.

Satoru watched your retreating form, most definitely watching your plump ass swaying with every step.

“Who and what did you do to her?” Gojo’s not only student but dependent muttered to him; eyeing his guardian suspiciously.

“That’s offensive. I’m offended!” Megumi rolled his eyes annoyingly at the ‘adult’ and his deflection at the question.

Satoru sighed softly, the smile he was forcing dropping slightly.

“Completely nothing. That’s why.” The raven haired boy’s eyebrow raised as Gojo’s facade slipped away for a second.

“You two should probably make up. That little girl saw my shikigami. She could be in trouble.”

Gojo tapped his chin as thoughts ran through his head. He was obviously pretty good at sensing cursed energy but he didn’t sense any within you.

Were they your offspring?

Where was their dad?

“You’re right Gumi!” His feet moved before his torso, a hop to his step; pushing the ice cream cones he just purchased into Megumi’s hands.

“Where are you going? We are supposed to be looking for this special grade.” Megumi called out, watching his guardian bounce away.

“To make up! You’ve got this!” The raven huffed out before looking down at his shikigami companion; the living twin.

“Don’t call me that.” The boy whispered more to himself before poking his tongue out to lick at the frozen concoction.

“Gross. Rum raisin.”

You sit in your room with your head in your hands, your foot was bouncing against the hardwood floor.

You felt anger. Unnecessary anger. Shame.

His stupid handsome face kept flashing in your mind. It was driving you crazy.

You really shouldn’t be angry, it takes two to tango but is it wrong to expect someone to make the first move?

You’ve been fucked over and fooled too many times to count and with a guy like Gojo.. you want to take extra precautions.

Is that so wrong?

Why do you feel so stupid then?

“What’s wrong?” You quickly lift your head up and see Riku standing in your doorway, looking at you with almost worry.

“It’s nothing. Just have a headache.” You smile briefly, correcting your posture.

“It’s not what I said right? I’m sorry if it is.” His almost worrying expression deepened; his eyes glistening.

“No no. It’s not that. It’s really nothing.” Obviously it was something. You just didn’t want to explain you’d caught feelings for the guy you had a one night stand with to your 13 year old brother.

The boys frown deepened, knowing it wasn’t nothing. He knew you better than that but for his own safety, he wasn’t going to push it further.

The last thing he wanted to see was you upset over nothing that was obviously something.

“Where’s your sister?” You asked as you watched Riku make his way over to you, taking a seat beside you.

“Watching her dumb show.” The boy muttered with an annoyed tone. You smiled sweetly before bumping him softly with your elbow “You use to watch dumb shows too.”

Riku scoffed with a roll of his eyes “Yeah but not like hers. They are really dumb.” You giggled at your younger brother.

You hummed lightly, wrapping an arm around his back; pulling him closer, squeezing softly.

“Do you still think about Mum and Dad?” That previous feeling of sadness returned, your smile dropped slightly.

“Of course. Every now and again.” You spoke with a small voice.

“I don’t. Every-time I think about them, I get mad.” Your hand brushed through Riku’s jet black locks.

“What makes you mad?”

“That they left. They left us here.” Your head tilted to rest on the crown of his own. You weren’t going to lie, you were resentful. You use to be filled to the brim with anger.

So you understood completely where he was coming from but the more you grew into the person you are now.. the more responsible you became.

You had no room for unwarranted feelings. You had had kids to care for. You needed to be different. You needed to grow up.

Perhaps that’s where a lot of your problems stem from. Perhaps those feelings are still there, bottled up.

“Siddda.” The comfort of the silence was broken as your little sister appeared in your room. Pulling a slight grumble from Riku.

“Yes baby?” Her little hand pointed in the direction of the living room.

“There’s a weird man at the front door, he’s asking for you.” You perked an eyebrow at Akari before pushing Riku from you; gently.

“Both of you, stay here.” You muttered, pushing your sister further into your room.

Your feet hit the hardwood floors softly as you strided your way to the living room.

Immediately you halt as you see the ‘weird’ man now in your humble abode. Shivers ran up your spine as your eyes take him in.

“I thought she would recognise me, I’m a bit hurt.”

You straightened your posture, staring coldly at the man.

“Why would she?”

He tilted his head at you, a smirk resting on his lips. “She did love me.”

“She was two.”

He started to look around your home, taking small steps towards you. Making you feel on edge more than you already are.

“Nothings changed I see.”

“What do you want Zack?”

You huffed in annoyance, placing your hands on your hips as you stared daggers at your.. previous partner.

His smirk widened slightly as you almost prowled around your living room, his eyes never leaving yours. “Can’t I just visit an old friend?”

You removed your hands from your hips, crossing your arms across your chest instead, the annoyed expression deepening on your features. “We are not friends. If I remember correctly, we ended on bad terms.”

Zack let out a small breathless chuckle, his eyes glancing over at the entrance to the kitchen, seeing your flowers sitting on the counter but the archway. He changed the topic quick.

“I see you got my flowers.” His eyes landed back onto you.

“Your-“ Your eyes widened slightly, realising you had been wrong. They weren’t from Gojo. They were from HIM. “You sent them?”

He let out a small playful scoff “Of course. Who else?”

You couldn’t help be feel the pang of disappointment in your heart, your face showing that you were more offended than disappointed though, trying to hide the fact.

He lean forward a little that stupid smirk still on his lips “Did you think you got it from someone else? Please.”

“Who would send you flowers when you barely leave the house?” He continued to talk down to you, his tone carrying not only amusement but condescension.

“You need to leave.” You spoke in a stern tone, not in the mood for his antics, you didn’t know why he was here and frankly you couldn’t care less.

“Come on. I know you miss me.” Zack purred, starting to slowly make his way over to you, you couldn’t help yourself as your body recoiled slightly, taking a few steps back, not wanting him any closer.

Your breathing hitched as you felt your back hit the wall and Zack was now standing in front of you, you could practically smell his awful cologne that you always hated flowing off him in waves.

“See. I can see it. You still want me.”

You turned your nose up at him, unable to hide the disgust that started to rise inside you. “I don’t.” Unable to stop the growl.

Suddenly Zack slammed you against the wall, holding you against it by your shoulders, his smirk turning into something more.. sinister. A look you were all to familiar with.

You couldn’t help the hard flinch from your body, the sharp gasp that escaped your lips.

Zack’s eyes glimmered as he leaned in towards your ear “You’re mine. Always will be.” A cold shiver ran through you, fear slowly creeping through.

“What are you doing?” A younger voice broke through the tension, saving you from.. whatever the situation was leading too.

Both You and Zack turned towards the voice and you saw Riku standing there, Akari hiding behind him.

Zack forced a sickly sweet smile, looking back at you, releasing his hold on your shoulders; brushing down your arms to straighten your top.

“Just catching up kid.” You let out a small breath of relief as he pulled away, removing himself from your boundaries.

Zack sent you a small wink before turning on his heels and heading for the door but not before looking over his shoulders and saying “Enjoy the flowers Y/N.”

And with that he left.

Leaving you with unspoken feelings that had seemed to have never left, trauma that was never fixed.. that you didn’t think could be.

You turned to your siblings, forcing yourself to be strong. Strong for them but not for yourself..

Forcing a small shaky smile to them, ignoring the look Riku was giving you as he studied your demeanour. That boy was too smart for his own good.

“Let’s get dinner ready.”

After settling your siblings in, preparing dinner and tucking them in for the night.

You made your way out of your house, the bouquet of flowers in your hand, your feet heading straight towards the trash can.

Without any hesitation, you threw the flower to the bottom of the bin, slamming the lid shut and letting out a shaky breath.

You inhaled deeply, running a hand through your hair, dragging your hand down your face.

“Those from your boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened, your whole body jumping from the unexpected voice, you twirl around to face the man, being met with Satoru.

A sheepish grin plastered on his lips, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was dressed in casual attire, very different from what you witnessed him in earlier today. No blindfold. His glasses in place.

You couldn’t ignore how attractive he looked, or the way he made you feel just by being in his presence.

But yet you couldn’t help but feel uneasy, not because of him. (Though you couldn’t help still being pissed at him no matter how good he looked.) but from Zack. He really sent you in a spiral and you felt unsafe. On edge.

“Wha- what are you doing here?” You stuttered out, wrapping your arms around your body, he tilted his head as he took you in, if he noticed something was off.. he didn’t question it.

“So you can talk?” His smile widened just slightly, his eyes slowly trailing over your body, not bothering to hide his interest.

You huffed in annoyance, your eyes involuntarily rolling at his teasing tone. Not a word you heard from this man and he had the urge to tease you.

His smile softened lightly as he took in your annoyed stance.

“Look..” He started with a fleet of hesitation in his tone, taking a step forward. “I get that you’re.. pissed at me-“

You held your hand up to stop him from talking. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. I really don’t.” You made yourself move, heading back towards your porch. You felt guilty that you might’ve been a bit too harsh but you were feeling overwhelmed with.. everything.

Gojo wanted to reach out and grab you but refrained from it, instead choosing to follow you, his eyes briefly glancing over to your trash can.

“Y/N.” He called softly, following you to your front door.

“Please Satoru. I can’t handle this right now.” You murmured softly, going to open the front door.

Gojo couldn’t help but feel frustrated at your lack of patience, he normally could withstand most things, biting back with his own sense of humour and attitude.. but you were different. God you were different and he needed that.

He wanted you. Even if it was just after one night.. you made him feel.. normal. Like he could relax for once. Not being put on a constant pedestal.

“Please just talk to me. Let me explain.” He couldn’t help the hint of desperation that lured into his voice.

You turned to face him with a hard expression “I’m not some booty call okay? Someone you can just.. you can’t just say things like you did and just disappear!” You sighed deeply before continuing. He straightened his posture as he listened, his smile had been completely wiped from his face.

“I just.. I’ve been fucked over too many times, lead on.. hurt and I’ve always been a fool to fall for it..” His face soften at your words but he didn’t interrupt you, he didn’t force his way to control the moment like he knew he could.

“Sweetheart.. You’re more than that.” Gojo spoke softly, taking a few steps up the small stairs connected to your porch before he was standing in front of you, not invading your space like he was prone too, he wanted to pull you in.. not push you away.

“I didn’t lie. I meant everything I said. My life is.. hectic. Work keeps me on my toes, I never wanted you to think I was avoiding you and I’m so sorry that I made you doubt.” Gojo couldn’t believe the words that flowed from his mouth like it was the easiest thing in the world. It wasn’t a common affliction for him to be serious but he wanted you to know.. he needed you to know that he was more than interested in you.

“I won’t lie.. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night..” He smiled lightly; his hands clenching into fists trying to ignore the urge to reach out and grab you.

Throughout when he spoke, your hard expression turned more soft but you still felt like you had to be on guard, shaking your head lightly at his comment about your hookup.

He stepped closer to you, peering down at you and not in an intimidating way. You tensed slightly as he reached up to caress the side of your neck.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking and I’d be the fool to not fight for something I want.” You could hear the determination in his voice, his hand moving to your jaw to tilt your chin up at him.

“So what’s it going to be doll. Think you can give me another chance?”

You couldn’t help the small curl of your lips, as you shook your head lightly. “Is that a yes?” He pressed with a mischievous smile, stepping closer to you, his hand came up to caress your cheek gently.

“You better not make me look like a fool.” *You whispered softly, leaning into his touch.*

“Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart.” Before you could say anything, his lips pressed to yours, moving in a slow and tender manner, your body seemed to react on it’s own; wrapping your arms around his neck as you kept up the pace.

Your eyes fluttered closed blissfully but Gojo’s however..

His bright blue eyes opened and glanced over slowly to your trash can..

His eyes narrowed slightly as his lips continued to move with yours, watching the cursed energy consume the can, swirling menacingly around it. That bouquet wasn’t just any bundle of flowers..

#chubby reader #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #x fem!reader

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