#but its good change is being done finally | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldsbitch · 1 day ago

Text

Twelve Grapes

-chapter 12, part 1 - Brave, not afraid to tell me he loves me

Max does his fair share of pondering and starts initiating difficult conversations.

warning: none

Max might not win the title this weekend, but he's definitely unbeatable in the "staring at the ceiling the whole night" category. The mattress is uncomfortable, the pillow too big, the sheets weirdly sticking to his skin. Funny how none of this was an issue yesterday. The lights weren't too bright when he still lived in the reality where Charles didn't spin his whole world upside down by giving him a birthday gift.

Max gets up to close the blinds completely. After ten minutes he repeats that and opts for having them half shut. When he gets up from the bed for the third time, it's more than clear he's not going to fall asleep anytime soon. Thoughts running wild, yet none of them seems to stay for long enough for him to make out anything tangible.

So, he walks. The streets pleasantly calm at 4am. No one trying to squeeze anything out of him—no timesheets to answer to, no father to impress, no teammate to look behind at. Just streetlights and the sound of his own footsteps.

Singapore never really sleeps, but it pretends better than he does.

Max walks without purpose, the way he used to when he was younger. Before driving became a job, before pressure turned everything else into background noise. Back then, walking helped. He used to believe that if he stayed in motion long enough, answers would find him.

He's not sure that's still true for this version of Max living and breathing today. But moving feels better than lying down and staring at nothing. The air is heavy, thick with humidity, but for once, Max lets it in. The weight of it reminds him he's here, alive, still choosing.

He thinks about the empty frame and the weight of it all. Replays the feeling of Charles' hand on his chest, gently pushing him back, the soft but unshakeable "no" in his voice. Not a pure rejection. Just a pressing down the brakes before speeding out of the track. In a way, he's grateful for being grounded like that. Charles proved him wrong and by doing that he might have finally steered them in the right direction. There is a hint of finality hanging in the air, two people can only circle around each other for so many times before they inevitably spin away or crash into each other. Max wonders if this is the last time, for better or worse. It certainly does carry this aura.

It was fair. Charles is right. And still, Max doesn't feel defeated.

He finds a bench and sits down, elbows on his knees, fingers laced. Watches the city hold its breath before dawn. And for the first time in a long while, he lets himself feel afraid. Present. Like a wave rolling just under his skin. Fear of change. Fear of getting it wrong. Fear of stepping out of this "what if" space they keep lingering in.

He doesn't shove it away or turn it into something sharp. He doesn't tell himself to toughen up.

He just lets it sit with him. It's strangely quiet company.

The silence wraps around him like something sacred. For the first time in a long while, Max isn't staying frozen in time. He's walking toward something. And whatever comes next—he'll be ready.

"I need the access to the best printer in this building."

"Sure, we have a good one in the comms office."

"Does it print out photos?"

"Um, I think it does. Not sure if we have the photo paper, but we can get that in a matter of minutes. Just send me what you need printed and consider it done."

"No."

"Well..."

"No offense, I can't have anyone see this. It's peak security."

"We all have NDA's signed..."

"That's not enough. Can you connect my laptop to the printer?"

"Sure, that should not be any issue."

Of course it's an issue. It ends up stealing twenty-seven minutes of Max's precious pre-race time. Because, apparently, no amount of championship titles can grant him access to the one thing truly unattainable in this entire spinning rock of a planet—a functioning printer.

On the rarest of days, Max despises the world of racing. And today might just be one of them. Throughout the day, he gets progressively more annoyed whenever anyone speaks to him, because the team must have decided that today they will straight up ignore his inputs. The car feels wrong. Max keeps flashing his eyes at the obviously damp track, thinking he must be seeing things, because nobody in his side of garage seems to be on the same page about the state of the strategy as him. To be fair, he's exhausted, distracted and it's hard to keep pretending he's excited about the debacle this race will inevitably become. If he could, he's just flip everyone off, lock himself in the drivers room and stay there until the race is over. After all, he's only human – why does nobody seem to take that into account today when they frown at him giving out snarky comments? It's all slipping out of his hands. He feels like a prisoner of the job, with nowhere to run, being pulled in different direction by people who own his day. His mind is unable to stop drifting to the dinner he's dreading, to Charles, who's immune to the Singapore curse Max suffers, to Checo, who for once is giving out smile for free...And Max just wants to say "fuck you" to all of them.

The race? So awful he could have stayed home. Lock ups, drifts, anti-stall, getting stuck behind slow cars with no way of getting in front of them. Few mistakes on his part and he ponders few times whether putting the car into the wall would be seen as him giving up. He finishes P7, Checo wins and Charles is second. He is happy about one of those results.

With awful amount of sweat dripping from his face, he speaks to the reporters in short and clear sentences. Tosses his helmet somewhere in the garage and leaves as early as he can. With the weight of this awful day lifted, he can finally brace himself for the more important things on today's agenda. Getting his life in check. He ignores all the championship comments entirely. A long showers seems like a better use of his time.

Max arrives to the restaurant even earlier that he instructed his dad to do. All in the name of having the time to take in the scenery, getting familiar with the environment and stealing a minute to properly gather his thoughts. It's a bizarre feeling. Like he's been absentmindedly prepping for this conversation for few years now, without a conscious effort. Piece by piece, he's painting a mental picture of everything he wants to get out. His brain has been gathering info, storing it neatly and he's now about to open that cabinet and have a proper look in. He wonders whether it's all too rushed on his part, yet how can something that's been brewing behind the wall of his consciousness for years be rushed? He feels the fatigue of his body, the part of his brain focused on racing and tolerating humans is utterly exhausted, but every other part of him is ready to fire up like never before. Perhaps that's why he's so keen on having the talk right now, today. What if he chickens out like he always does? Maybe this state of mind, parts of him lost in the haze of the busy lifestyle, allows him to get it all out unfiltered.

Jos arrives, slides into the chair across from Max, probably already keyed in on what he thinks the topic will be. No greeting, no pleasantries.

"Shame we didn't close it today," Jos says immediately, wasting no time.

Max doesn't look up right away, rolling the stem of his glass between his fingers. "I'll do it next week."

"That's not the point," Jos huffs, shaking his head. "Today was an opportunity. You take those when they come, not when it's convenient."

Max lets out a quiet breath. He isn't surprised. Broken record keeps spinning. There's never any acknowledgment of what is, only what should have been better.

Jos signals to the waiter, impatient. "What are you drinking?"

"Water."

Jos snorts, unimpressed, orders a glass of whiskey for himself, before switching gears. "Anyway. Got you something." He reaches into his jacket, places a small box onto the table between them. Max doesn't move to take it. "Happy birthday."

Max eyes the box, but only for a second. "Thanks."

Jos sighs, as if he's the one putting effort into this. "Don't sound too excited."

Max picks up the box now, but he doesn't open it. The weight in his hands feels expected, something expensive but impersonal, another watch maybe, or a piece of memorabilia Jos found interesting enough to throw money at. Something that says I acknowledge your existence but not much else.

He turns it over once before setting it back down. "I asked you to come early for a reason."

Jos lifts a brow, finally taking a real look at him. "Go on, something about Red Bull?" Jos speaks, strangely intrigued, probably expecting Max to fill him in on some secret key information.

"No," Max says. He pushes the box aside, out of the way. "I wanted to talk to you, as my father. Before Christian gets here."

Jos exhales sharply through his nose, leaning back in his chair. "Alright," he says, humoring him. "So talk."

Max swallows, steadying himself. It's strange, hearing the words in his own head so clearly but still struggling to push them out. Here goes everything.

"We have a pattern of having a disagreement once and then never addressing it again," he starts carefully, " This is a conversation long overdue." He pauses, watches for a reaction, but Jos just gestures for him to continue.

"And?"

"And," Max says, exhaling, "I think I've spent too long making decisions with you in mind first."

Jos tilts his head slightly, not quite getting it. Or pretending not to. "Since when have I stopped you from doing what you want?"

Max gives him a look. "Since always. Since before I even knew what I wanted."

Jos scoffs, shaking his head, making it very obvious he does not find his words important. Max doesn't let him cut in.

"I don't blame you for that," Max says. "It's how things were. It's how you raised me. But I can't—" he stops, exhales sharply. "I don't want to live my life measuring every decision against what you'd think of it." It comes naturally to keep his tone firm and unshaken.

Something flickers in Jos' eyes now. Acknowledgment, maybe. Or just irritation. "And what decision is this about, exactly?"

The tension at the dinner table keeps rising with every word spoken. Max knows where this is going before Jos even says it.

"Please, tell me you're not about to mention one of your key rivals."

Just like that, it's like they're back in Max's apartment all those years ago, incriminating photos of Max kissing Charles still fresh out of print.

"This isn't just about Charles."

Disappoinment in its purest form settles over Jos.

While that might not be entirely true, it's all of a sudden clear as day to Max. If it's not Charles, it might be someone else one day. Ironically, it was his father, the man into who's eyes he is staring now, who drilled Max to making sure he learns from every mistake. For once, the son claiming the upper ground, is throwing that back into his face. It's a strange moment, to grow up and see your parent for what they really might be and not for what they spent your entire life trying to convince of. Max tries his best to imagine what he'd think of Jos if he's met him today, for the first time. It's strangely impossible.

He goes back to the countless sleepless nights, dull moments of spacing out on the track, the emptiness he picked up immediately after getting out of the car. Glimmer of unpleasant solitude which could have been spent shared with someone who could have made it all less lonely. All of these little snapshots pile up into one folder – time wasted. He finds himself missing what never was. Eating him up alive. It's unfair to put the whole blame on Jos. Ultimately, it was Max choosing to follow his lead after it was long past the due of him finding the ability to push for his own agenda. He paid the price for this decision. Now, he owes it to his future self to make sure he does not go through the same cycle again.

There is a clear hint of Jos not entirely getting Max's point. "So what, is there some other boy you fancy?" Same disgust rolls of his tongue as did back in the day. Progressive times clearly passed Jos by and never said "hello".

Max laughs at the confirmation that the point has been missed almost entirely. "No. That's not what I'm getting at."

"Then what the fuck are on about, Max," Jos scoffs, clearly getting more and more annoyed with each word they share. He accompanies this by an eye roll.

"I know you think this is all insignificant compared to titles, championships and world records. That what counts is what the history books will say about me. Still. I won't be the one reading those. But, I will be the one living my life until the very end. And for me, that is important. Having someone I love to share it with is important."

It does make Max feel like he sounds all too dramatic, but all he says is truly what is on his mind.

Jos shakes his head, still in disapproval, but he keeps his mouth shut, seemingly gathering his thoughts. Which already feels like a win to Max.

"Max, are we really going to sit here and talk about your feelings?" his father lands on dismissing and undermining the debate entirely. Predictable, Max figures.

"If we don't have this talk, there might not be much talking for us to do in the future. Your call. I'm barely twenty-five and I already catch myself thinking I had a time machine. That's not a pleasant way to live."

He hopes, prays, that it all eventually gets through Jos. Losing him over this is a price he's willing to pay, but would much rather avoid.

Anger level visibly rises in Jos and it alerts Max on a primal level. He's grateful for the public setting. Jos' hands curl into fists and he bites his cheeks.

"I'm going to go outside for a bit to calm down," Jos says, surprising Max. He just nods back, adjusting to this new situation.

As Jos pushes back his chair and walks out, Max watches him go, but doesn't move. He doesn't feel relief, there's too much history in the air between them, and it doesn't just clear out because one of them steps away.

He leans back, exhaling through his nose, fingers pressing against the edge of the table. The exhaustion settles in now, creeping up his spine. This was always going to be difficult, but he hadn't expected the sheer weight of it. The finality of saying it all out loud.

He glances down at the unopened box, still sitting between them like a placeholder for something that will never quite fit. Jos will come back. Or he won't. Either way, Max has said what he needed to say.

The thought should be freeing. It isn't. Not yet.

He presses his lips together and shifts his gaze to the entrance, watching as Jos stands outside, shoulders squared, one hand on his hip. A lifetime of discipline, of control, of knowing how to push Max into a mold. This is the first time Max has ever truly rejected it, not in defiance, not in rebellion, but simply because it doesn't fit him anymore.

Max shakes his head down, fingers absently tracing the condensation on his glass. His mind drifts, not to today, not to this dinner, but to the beginning of the year.

March. The boycott.

He remembers sitting in the back of the car on the way to the airport, the city lights of Jeddah blurring past the window, his phone pressed to his ear. Jos had called the second the news broke, his voice sharp enough to cut through the hum of the engine.

"You're not racing?" "No." "Who's decision was that? Who is dumb enough to sabotage your racing for some cheap PR?"

Max had gritted his teeth, eyes locked on the glowing numbers of his flight confirmation email, as if that would somehow ground him. "It was a team decision," he'd tried, voice neutral, controlled.

He'd heard the scoff through the line. "Bullshit. You should have raced anyway. It's not like they can ban you from the paddock." He then goes on to proceed naming every single important person he has on call in Red Bull, checking whether they'd signed off or if there is still a chance for Jos to sway this. Max lets him speak and confirms every single person he mentions. Eventually, it shuts Jos up.

Max had let the silence linger, because what could he say? That he wanted to stand for something but hadn't been brave enough to put his face to it? That instead of taking full ownership, he'd let PR clean up the mess, spin a digestible narrative so the fallout wouldn't land entirely on him?

Jos had sighed, voice lowering, less angry now, but far from understanding. "You don't get these chances forever, Max. The world moves on. The team moves on. Are you stupid? You think this matters? You think it'll mean something five years from now?"

Max had gripped his phone a little tighter. "It matters to me."

"Then own it," Jos had snapped back. "Stop hiding behind other people and pretending this isn't your choice. We both know it's because it's fucking Leclerc," he uttered that name like it was poison. In Jos' mind, it probably was and still it.

Max hadn't answered. He'd just stared out the window as the lights streaked by, listening to the sound of his own breath.

That was the moment. The moment he could have said it, could have drawn the line, but instead, he let it pass. Another thing left unsaid.

Jos probably smartly figured if he had gone to investigate the move more, it would only uncover something he himself fought the hardest to keep buried. So, they never spoke of it again.

His father steps back into the restaurant, expression on his face unreadable. He sits, slower this time, reaching for his drink, keeping casual comments to himself. Max waits. If they're going to have this conversation, it has to come from Jos next.

"You understand this could redefine your career," Jos finally says. It's not a threat. Not an attack. Just a fact. So Max does not respond with aggression, does not point out the fact that Charles is still being mainly described as a racing driver, not as a gay racing driver.

Max nods. "Yes."

Jos taps his fingers against the glass, studying him. "Sponsorships could pull out. Media will twist it, turn it into a circus. You might not get the protection you think you will."

"I know," Max says, calmer than he thought he'd be. Lighter.

"And you still want to do this?"

Max exhales. "I've thought about all of that. I'm not planning on letting this dictate my existence. I'm not going to "come out" tomorrow. But when the right time arrives, I am not denying anything."

Jos shakes his head, but this time, it's not pure dismissal. It's more like he's processing, adjusting.

He leans back in his chair. "Well," he mumbles, running a hand over his face. "At least you're finally being honest about it."

Max watches him closely, waiting, hoping –just a little– that maybe, somehow, that means something more. But then Jos sighs, shaking his head again, firmer this time.

"Doesn't mean I think it's the right call."

Max doesn't flinch. He expected that. Worse actually.

"You don't have to," he says simply.

Jos sneers, like he finds the whole thing ridiculous. "Right. Because that's how this works. You say your piece, I disagree, and we just move on?"

Max shrugs. "We'll figure it out."

Jos lets out a dry laugh, but there's something behind it. Frustration, maybe, or something closer to a broken ego than actual anger. He drains the rest of his drink and sets the glass down with a deliberate tap. Grabs the boxs from Jos, still not opening it.

"You were always a stubborn one," he mutters.

"Wonder where I got that from," Max fires back, deadpan. Then, he a small smile appears on his face for the first time this evening.

Jos looks at him for a beat, then exhales. "Whatever happens, don't come crying to me when it gets messy."

Max's lips twitch, not quite a smile, but something close to understanding. There is a strange comfort in hearing that. Some things won't change and even though it's probably not the most healthy approach, it's one he's used to. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything still thick between them. It's not a resolution. Not even close. But it's the first step.

Deep breath. "Dad, I know this is going to sound rude, but there is something else I have to do tonight. So, no dinner. You and Christian don't need me anyway. Tell him I feel tired and that I said hi."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't think you want to know."

-------

@chezmardybum @biancathecool @aykxz98

20 notes · View notes

screampied · 9 months ago

Text

RIDIN' DIRTY ?!

⋆˚. sum. you never realized how hot your local mechanic was until he had you arched and bent over your hood. spoiler fucking alert, you end up getting a different kind of pipe that’s of course free of charge just for you.

warnings. fem! reader, mechanic toji, unprotected, degradation, oral (f! receiving), spıt, breēding, shotgunning, fuckıng you on the hood, praise, manhandling, pússywhipped toji, size kink, biting, brief fıngering, petnames.

wc. 5.3k

an. ty kali for beta'ing some x

“she’s all done, ma’am,” your mechanic toji murmurs in a gruff voice, yanking back your stick shift before putting it in park. he drove it near the garage of his auto shop, a rounded plump cigarette sticking from the corner of his mouth. with a yawn departing from his lips, he eyes you up and down for a bit before removing his seatbelt. stepping out, he then towers over you by many, many staggering inches. his silhouette alone was intimidating, and you shift your dilated irises away once he cocks his head to your level. “still in pretty good shape. y’er model ain’t that old ‘n i think you should visit every few weeks.”

compressing your thighs together, you bury your purse underneath the pit of your arm. “oh, okay thank you sir,” and as he’s standing—you then take a good glimpse at the man in front of you. he’s handsome, sweaty, and covered in nothing but a slick sheet of grease. the more you gawk, the more you could see a bit of curly chest hair poke out against his skin. his broad chest, his perky pink nipples that poked-

“heh, darlin’ ya don’t gotta be so formal, y’know,” and your eyes darted toward his work cap that was slightly twisted. god, he was so attractive. he inches toward you closer, watching you struggle to keep composure before you think he’s gonna kiss you. so what do you do, you close your eyes. you close your fucking eyes, thinking he was gonna kiss you but instead, he places a hand on the hood of your car. “oh? silly girl, were you expectin’ something?”

“n- no.”

yeah, you were.

it was late at night, midnight, and everyone had clocked out for the day.

everyone except toji. he was a workaholic. you needed a last minute oil change and he was the only available one near by. he was about to close but made an exception. the auto shop has a cooling air surrounding the inside of the garage before you swallow. you can hear your saliva trail its way down your throat as you finally meet direct eye contact with the older man. “cute,” toji murmurs, and he’s not even touching you. he’s not even touching you but it felt like it. despite his teasing, you get hit face first with a strong waft of his scent. his cologne, you knew the exact type he was wearing. cheap, but long lasting against anyone’s nostrils who takes a first whiff. “it’s been a while since y’er last oil change though, i’d be lyin’ if i said i didn’t miss ya.”

with a quirk of a brow, you murmur up at him, deciding why not to play along. you knew he was most likely teasing but still. “you missed … me?”

“sure,” toji removes his baseball cap, fanning it against the sweat glistening off his bulging muscles that poke through his perfectly sculpted body. he was so fit, you couldn’t help but openly leer at his broad, intense figure. with a sly smile, he leans against your car before humming, taking another hit of his cigar. “not too many pretty faces show up ‘round here. besides, i didn’t forget about our little moment last time.”

your breath gets caught in the back of your throat.

he remembered,

he remembered the little incident the two of you shared. when you came for your last oil change and a battery repair, you also ended up sharing a kiss with toji. it was nothing more, nothing less.

but it was hot, having his tongue shoved down your throat with his big rough hands roaming along the sides of your body. being so pressed up against him, you felt yourself longing for more. in your city, toji was the best mechanic for miles. he we well known, quick, precise, and quite flirty.

you brought out the worst in him that day, and it annoyed you how the steamy, sultry kiss got interrupted by his boss. shiu … something, rich raven hair mirroring the same color as his worker.

“oh y- yeah.” you sheepishly mumble, feeling the tension through the air run thick. you loathed desperately how whenever you were around toji, your stammer would make an appearance. you hated it, it was so embarrassing and he ate it up everytime. toji’s sly gaze lowers and he titters at the cute pullover and skirt you wore before your own eyes trail toward his lips.

his lips,

they were naturally crooked — pink, and that damn slanted scar that remained to slash against the right side of his mouth. you peeped a bit of a growing stubble, but nevertheless he was always well trimmed. toji flashed a grin before he got way close to you. kneeling his head down, he whispers toward you. “oh y- yeah,” he mocks your trembling tone, and he was so close that his musk, his body heat radiates off you completely. “somethin’ tellin’ me you came here for more than just an oil change, that right, baby?”

your heart’s pulsing intensifies at his cunning words. always cutting straight to the chase. he’s so up close, his cologne’s just clogging up your nose by now before your thighs squeeze themselves shut. “yes.”

“yes what, darlin’?” and there’s a hint of jibe in his voice. the moment he grabs your chin gently, you’re ready to lose it right there. toji’s wearing mechanic gloves, the soft padded leather pulling down on your bottom lip playfully. with a coy head tilt, he purses your lips a bit more open. “ah, c’mon. use those pretty words, tell me what ya want.”

your legs, the crevices between them were already starting to slick with moisture.

oh, this couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing. as you meet his jade green eyes, you reply with a tone that comes out far more needy than you originally intended. “i want .. i want you, toji.”

there’s a frisky, playful glint in his eye—as well as the tiny crinkle forming at each twist of his facial expressions. “yeah you do,” and his words were pitched deep, so deep that the timbre lingering underneath his tone sends your spine shivers. “more than a kiss? i’ll hafta charge ya extra, heh.”

still . . it was humor in his voice, you knew he was joking but the heat purring between your thighs only grew. your body was screaming at you, it’s been a while since your last time anyway, the last time you’ve been touched.

with a nod, murmuring out a faint little, “more than a kiss, ‘toj,” he snickers, closing the awkward distance between you two finally.

the moment his lips crash against yours, everything feels hot. scorching hot — similar to the sahara, his tongue being the water you needed to cool down. the leftover smoke and booze that lingered on his tongue was strong, the second it glided against your buds it tasted stronger. you could feel his smirk creeping against his lips before with two hands, he lifts you up, propping you to sit on the hood of your car.

it was madly aggressive - teeth clashing, tongues twisting, one taste again and he was addicted.

he made sure to take out his cigarette before hand, squeezing it against his fingers as he’s gradually grinding his hips by you. it’s slow, you could feel his raging boner prod right through his work pants.

it was hard to miss, you couldn’t help but give him a few nosy peeks which he was working on your car to see if he was a packer and he definitely was.

sticky strands of his hair tickle against your forehead as he’s rutting right in you. a free hand makes its way onto your left thigh, slowly dancing his fingers amongst your skin. the moment your legs entrap his slim waist, locking around his torso, he grunts. both lashes were close to touching, breaths were becoming heavy, and you felt his tongue curl around yours. toji was a sloppy yet passionate kisser, and yet— he wanted his tongue to work in other ways.

and it did,

your jaw drops open as you’re laid flat on your back, staring at the man with his face shoved deep between your thighs. toji sprawls open your legs, delving his long tongue inside of your slick entrance to get a sweet taste.

gradually, his tongue dips all around your cunt, creating a little swirl before he feels your body twitch in rapture.

“t- tojiiii,” you whine, feeling a bit paranoid at how anyone could just see the two of you.

sure, you were both in a securely locked garage ( at least you hoped ) —but, anyone could just walk in. walk in and see you having your pussy being devoured by one of the most top known mechanics in the city. if you’d have given a rating on his pussy eating skills, it’d be five stars without question.

he was always so nasty with it— occasionally, with his now bare fingers from removing his gloves, he slides a thumb down your slick.

“look at her, she’s fuckin’ sloppy,” he whispers against your cunt — his warm breath brushes near your folds and you whimper. your voice echoes raw out your throat, ringing through the spacey walls of his garage. this was far better than just an oil change, you were thinking. so so better,

as toji’s still swiping a tongue against your entrance in a circular rotation—nose deep, speaking of nose, it starts to rummage its way against your nub. you gag out a gasp, nearly choking from how out of breath you were with your legs shaking tremendously. with your teeth shattering, he nibbles against your clit, staring you dead in the eyes. “mmf, ‘s fuckin’ good. how generous of you though,” he coos in a gruff tone, easing a single digit inside of your slippery core. “haven’t ate all day ‘n this meal ‘s just what i needed darlin, heh.”

toji’s charisma was simply unmatched.

it was something about him being face first between your legs that made him ten times more attractive.

his hair, it was a bit lengthy but not too much. he grew it out the last time you saw him. a bit of a wolf cut but was neatly trimmed toward his shoulders. it’s rough and unkempt, dark black bangs still running down his eyes. every few seconds, he’s got to whip his head back in vex so his vision isn’t occluded.

“hnnggh, right there toji. pleaseplease.” you babble out in desperate cries, swallowing your own pathetic pity before savoring the honeyed taste.

a whimper rips out of your throat to where it sounds similar to a gargle. his tongue knows just the right spots to reach. your clitoral hood, he loved to suck on it until that cute scream snatches from your esophagus.

“never tasted a girl so sweet ‘n all my years,” he groans, a single finger still shoved inside. it’s stretching you out more and your back arches against the warm hood of your vehicle.

from side to side,

his head moves and shifts and shakes and you’re about to lose it. in fact, you were already losing it, feeling your legs turn into complete mush. jello even, they felt nonexistent thanks to his sloppy tongue.

whilst he’s buried right between your thighs, the mechanic’s got the smuggest grin that you just wanted to wipe right off his face.

toji’s so pent up and aroused—he works a regular six to twelve hour shift, it was almost the same situation for you. he can’t remember the last time he’s been … active, albeit he was exhausted. and yet it seemed as if your precious, slick cunt gave him all the needed battery to fuel his energy right back up.

a husky growl vibrates against your pussy and you whine as a hand combs its way into his hair. in the process, your fingers tangle against his strands. your digits - all five of them stroke through his scalp before giving it a brief tug.

“kinky ‘lil slut, huh,” he grunts, head yanking forward towards your thighs. toji hated the fact that it turned him on. a lot, so much so that his dick twitches in his wrangler rigg jeans. as he’s got you still laid against your parked car, he slurps against your cunt - feeling you pulse right into his mouth. “there’s that cute heartbeat, she wants so much fuckin’ attention today.”

“t- toji, ‘m gonna cum,” you moan, his low words only pushing you further to the edge. barred big hands cling against both sides of your thighs. no longer having a finger inside, he firmly grabs your leg.

you’re quavering,

seeing nothing but splotches of snowy white as he’s slurping up your cunt like a hot dish of pasta. “c- cum, fuck ‘m gonna cum, y- your tongue ��s goodddd.”

with a low hoarsely chortle, he hums. “careful, doll. cum ‘n i’ll have to add a bit of tax to your bill. plus an extra fee for heh, grease.”

you stare at him with a cute confused expression and he snickers. “aw, ‘m joking, don’t gimme that look,” and with warm lips pressing against your cunt, you mewl out a desperate, shrilling whine.

as the seconds go on, you’re steadily being brung to the teetering orgasmic edge. with your hips bucking against his face, he’s grabbing ahold of waist with his tongue exploring the inner caves of your delicious cunt.

your nub, he continues to flick against it, making your body jerk back against the unmoving vehicle. you whimper and whimper before he shoots you a teasing smile, whistling against your folds. “use those words, darlin’. use ‘em ‘n tell me what you want, yeah.”

“wanna cum- wanna c-cum,” you breathe, feeling the shiver in your jaw. even still, you’re wisping fingers into his strands, gripping it tightly before you’re grinding your cunt against his face.

a snail-like trail of your own clear slick runs down his chin. oh, with the way he slowly pulls his head up to smirk at you, you just wanted to kiss him again. your body’s hanging onto its last and final hinges before you’re spasming, feeling him swat a palm against your pussy thrice. “ngh, toji. wanna cum. please, need it. n- need to cum.”

“i’d beg to differ,” he groans, reaching for the hem of his pants - pulling the heavy piece of clothing down. his dick alone had a bit of weight to it and with murky-like irises, you gawk openly.

with a hand going inside of his pants, he lets off a guttural groan, starting to stroke himself off. a few solid pumps and he’s already sucking his teeth at the almost unbearable friction.

“fuck, y- you don’t ‘need’ shit, little girl,” and he’s multitasking. one hand focusing on your thigh and another on his cock. he’s so hard, he’s so fucking hard and the moving you’re doing against his body - the grinding, it doesn’t make it any better. with a mean slap, he spanks your cunt again before spitting near your folds. “you need it, you need ‘ta cum. right darlin’?”

“y- yes,” you hiccup, white noise deafening your ears continuously. the loooooong, sleazy slurps of his tongue makes you rock more into his mouth, nearly pulling out his strands with your rough, hard grip.

the more you tug and pull against his hair, the more it turns him on. his cock throbs whilst a long vein runs through the very side of his shaft. the center of toji’s thumb brushes against his peeling brief foreskin. “need, i need to cum. please.” you correct yourself, in hopes that he’d let you succumb to your nirvana-filled release.

as your fingers continue to fish through his hair, gathering a nice hold, he starts to make out with your folds. the squelches, they were singing out a cacophony of sloppy sounds. you’re sopping wet so good for him to where your cunt’s just voluntarily cascading on his mouth—cascading down his chin.

with ease, you even drench his stubble with your slick - happily. “go ‘head girl,” he grunts, gazing hungrily at the concoction of strings departing. cobwebs of his saliva mixing along with strings of your slick makes him groan. what a mess. a mess and you were the biggest one possible.

once you come undone, everything’s so hazy. your legs jitter in exhilaration, moaning loudly from the intense palpitation. he licks you clean, lapping up your flavorful juices with his tongue before feeling a few spurts of his own cum paint against his palm. “f- fuck, pretty,” he grunts, each stroke against his hard cock making him grind his teeth together. his jaw tightens, realizing he’d just came with you - all from eating you out. you were shaking still, your climax making your vision turn into a rainbow of color. your eyelids, all you saw was a plethora of colorful tints, slowly jerking your hips forward until you couldn’t anymore. as you move, he guides you to ride out your orgasm, ride it out all on his face. “thaaaat’s it, gimme all of y’er taste, mhm.”

it lasts for seconds, seconds that felt like long, never ending hours. with a sweet elongated battle cry of your own that’s in reality replaced with an ear shattering orgasm, you slump back against your vehicle.

“such a good girl,” he murmurs, getting up and it’s a concise soreness in his thighs from bending down for that duration of a time. inhaling a breath of fresh air, he inches toward your face. “heh, you look so dumb,” he teases at your state. indeed you were, his tongue had you feral and craving for more. you were still throbbing, his body heat closing the remaining spacey inches between you both before he grabs your chin. “want a taste, do ya?”

“y- yes,” you nod, your own breathing betraying you with how you struggle to maintain easy, singlular breaths.

toji pops his cigarette back into his mouth before taking a long, deep inhale. the smoke burns, and he aligns his dick up against your drooling slit. he didn’t have to do much moving, the skirt you wore made it easy for him to lift the thin piece of fabric up for access. you glance down, and he was so big.

veiny, a heavy fat cock with an even heavier fat base. as the end of the lit cigarette sticks between his teeth, his brows contorts into a furrow.

toji coos quietly, the mushroom-tip of his dick sweltering inside against your warm heated core. “open wide, babygirl,” he huffs, a thumb peeling down your lip once more. his eye contact had your pussy twitching profusely. it was so intimate, you felt the arising tension reach its peak. not even hesitating, you part your lips open, leaving your mouth open ajar for him. “good. nice ‘n wide for toji,” he refers to himself and you watch with doe eyes as he blows an airy puff of smoke right into your mouth. tepid lips hover against your own, and he’s so close that he can almost smell your longing arousal. you moan at the feeling of his tip easing its way into your cunt, creating squelchy sloshing sounds of acceptance. “there we go baby, nice ‘n easy.” he whispers, and toji finally kisses you.

you moan, feeling his dick breeze its way into your sopping cunt, the stretch already presenting itself toward your walls. it’s a tight stretch and you moan, throbbing from the way you’re opening up for him. as the friction sets against your twitching muscle, you whine, running your tongue down his to taste the brewing variations of saliva and smoke into your mouth. it’s so sloppy, his tongue game was just improperly risqué.

fithly, coarse..

with your ass sitting directly on the cool running hood of your vehicle, he’s continuing to drive his dick straight into you.

you moan as his lips attack against yours, savoring your candied flavor. it was something about you that he couldn’t get enough of. toji’s body - it was broad and big. as he towers over your frame, he starts to thrust a bit forward.

“ughh,” he bites down on your lip, dark mean eyes meeting yours as he then opens them.

the stretch had you gasping for air once his lips shortly break away. already, you missed them. he sees the pout and he chuckles before his head tosses itself back. as his lips pull away, strands of spit abruptly leave, saying its goodbyes to each mouth. “so fuckin’ — shit.” he swears, so lost in your swallowing walls that he forgets his initial sentence.

already, his eyes were starting to flicker back.

rolling back,

it was sexy to witness, especially up close. toji’s cock dives into your cunt further and further before finally, he bottoms out. once he’s reached the hilt - the very hilt, you whine, throwing your arms over his tense shoulders carelessly.

“fuck me, f- fuck me, toji. please.” you stammer out in pathetic babbles, the repetitive twitch in your pussy making him all the more harder. your pleas almost fall on deaf ears before you feel the veins pulse down his cock. it spasms inside you and if you weren’t as wet before, you were certainly wet now.

he’s just so hard, your walls grip and envelope around his length as you bite on his shoulder.

“didn’t know we’re on bitin’ terms now, heh,” he attempts to joke, one hand gently squeezing onto your waist. his touch, you never failed to lean into his touch. with a needy gasp, his hefty dick tucks its way into the insides of your cunt. your goopy walls squelch and squelch, shrieking out a lewd harmony of wails. you’re so wet - already, his base starts to get painted from your slick. you moan, licking a stripe near the crook up neck. he snickers, feeling the moisture of your tongue collide against his skin. “jus’ so fuckin’ hot,” he gruffs, staring at your already fucked dumb expression. “mhm, such a nasty girl. havin’ me fuck ya on y’er car.”

he’s stretching you out so good, its as if your cunt was a gymnast — easily bending and breaking, stretching in and out. toji’s dick was fat - the foreskin that’s glued against his tip stimulates the insides of your wet core. you whine once more, clinging onto his beefy body as he’s fucking you on the hood.

pitiful babbles of mercy whisper in his ears, your ankles and heels brushing alongside the red lines of his back. toji was sweating a lot more from the constant moving — you, your body jolting up against your car and his sharp, deadly hits going in and out of you. each piston has you weak, stupid even.

despite his mechanic scented musk with a sprinkle of inexpensive cologne, it was still alluring to you. you throbbed as he continued to jerk his hips against the same spot. your toes, all five of them on both feet curl in awe before you start to spasm.

“y- yes, please. right there, right there tojiiii.” and you probably sounded so pathetic but you could care less. your face was all scrunched up and twisting in blissful pleasure as he’s plunging into you at full force. his rhythm, his pace . . it was ruthless.

safe to say, you were addicted.

cock drunk, easy - just like that. with a secure grip still on your hip, he’s reeling you back with such ease. strands of saliva starts to pour out from the side corners of your mouth and he slyly smiles. “oh, you just wanna be a messy customer today, huh. such a mess,” and with a flick of his thumb, he swipes your spit clean. he does this only to pop the same finger into his mouth, relishing in your glacé, syrupy taste. “so sweet, ‘m gonna need more though.”

your knees embarrassingly buckle. your weeping cunt sobs for more and more as his mean, degrading thrusts is just leaving you utterly dumbfounded. your mouth was open, tiny little pants of air escaping out into the form of a mere croak. toji’s weighty dick thoroughly plummets into your insides with all of his might to where you’re already visibly stupid.

each mocking thrust makes your stomach churn. he’s so deep, his tip located in every area. you’re stretched, worn thin, and the minute his cockhead greets your cervix with a french kiss, you shriek sweetly.

“oh my g- goddd, there please, toji, tojiiii,” and you were just babbling out anything at this point.

it was adorable, every few seconds, the mechanic had to swipe the back of his hand against his forehead. the remaining few droplets of perspiration that resided underneath his bangs was a lot. as beads of sweat race down his face, sable irises meeting your dumbed down state and you moan, nails now clawing into his shoulders. “f- fuck, ‘s good. ‘s fuckin’ big.”

“big just for you, baby,” he groans against your ear - the fat of his balls mashing against your entrance making you dizzy. you’re about to break again, the smell in the air was almost potent.

with his cologne, the mixture of his sweat, and the burning hot gas fumes of your car, you felt like you were floating. your cunt was being stuffed with delirious inches of cock and you wouldn’t have it any other way. toji grabs your chin, pressing a wet kiss against your mouth before his tempo accelerates. “shittt, grippin’ on me so good, ‘m gonna cum, darlin’.”

at his throaty words, you meet his eyes before burying your face into his neck for about the nth time again. the only words he could hear you whine into his neck was, “inside, inside me, ‘toj.”

“so y’er a creampieee kinda girl,” he sneers in amusement - watching as you’re slowly being taken to your inevitable rapturous rapture.

you’re whimpering, taking in each of his deep, pivotal strokes. toji brings his hands toward your waistline, skimming his fingertips against the curvature before nibbling on your earlobe. “careful, sweets... ‘s gonna be a nice big load. can ya be a good girl ‘n take that much? don’t wanna give ya too much of a full, heh.”

if it wasn’t for his puns — you’d smack him, but you were too cock drunk to think, let alone comprehend.

“i can take it,” you nod desperately, a cute tremor in your voice as you’re making haste with your own hips against his. everything’s so sharp. “fuck, f- fuck me, right there.”

toji found it cute how repetitive your sweet nothings were - the same endless chatter flowing past your lips. “yeahhh.” he jibes, although his words were in the form of a question. you grab against his wrist while your slippery soaked cunt braces for the parching, hot fill.

three thrusts,

three slow deep thrusts and he was at his peak. leisurely, as toji’s cock deeply into the pits of you, almost reaching your tummy - you feel a few hot spurts shoot into you raw. toji groans, his voice echoing through the garage. he was whipped. your expression was so cute, hooded droopy eyes and an abashed little grin.

his swollen fat tip was downright rude with the way it scrapes against your pussy, thrashing all inside as if it knows the place.

it’s so much, colossal big hands of his grab onto your thigh, and he leans in to gently pierce his teeth into your skin. sucking against your tender flesh, like honey—like nectar, he grunts his own gruff climax into your shoulder.

his voice was low - his adam’s apple bobs at his actions, feeling an unforeseeable wave crash over him at once. it’s intense and he’s just eating up your delicious fervor that was right in front of him.

“t- toji,” you breathe, your arms still slung over his shoulders. easily, he’s jerking away from attentions.

toji wasn’t fully thrusting anymore, but he still had a decent pace of pumps. his fresh, warm cum emits into your cunt like how a volcano erupts. gushing into you, it’s hot and thick like lava, warm and sticky like magma.

you were chasing your breaths but failed to surpass them in the fictitious lewd race. it’s so hot inside, you were almost positive a few slimy spurts of toji’s cum exudes up on the hood of your car. you’ve never felt so full, his chest heaves and yours deflates in harmony.

with both bodies were in sync and casual harmony, he grunts before leaning in to kiss you. his now flaccid dick was just idly inside of your swollen, greedy cunt. throbbing even still, you rub the backs of your ankles behind his slim waist before tilting your head back. the kiss was far more passionate this time.

if you knew mechanics fucked this good, maybe, just maybe you’d come for an oil change more often.

except, toji didn’t just add the new oil into the engine of your car, he added his own new oil into your sopping, drenched cunt.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, feverish breaths titillating against the inner areas of your neck.

you pulse from any movement he makes, clinging onto him tightly like a koala. he has a flashy half girn, slowly pulling out his dick to see the mess. your cunt was overflowed to the max - so much cum, so so much.

toji licks his lips, the tip of it grazing against his fleshed scar as he peers at your pussy’s opening. the way your entrance slowly spitting out his thick, velvety ropes of cum due to its fullness makes him grunt.

inside, it was lukewarm—oozing out of your entrance before you lean back against your hood. “mhm, ‘s still pourin’ out. guess i was so pent up from today, barely had any time to jerk off.”

“i didn’t have to know that.” you huff at his teasing, trying to catch your breaths. your full lungs felt like they were about to collapse.

toji helps you off your car - although, he wanted more and so did you. surprisingly, he even cleans the hood off for you. as you’re back on your feet, sore and all, he asks for your number. “you’re gonna ask me out or something?”

“maybe, hold still darlin,” and your interest peaked, wondering why he wanted you to be still.

you turn, heaving a bit of shifting before toji bends down. you shudder a bit, feeling what feels like a cold marker starting to drag and scrape down against the right cheek of your ass. you could hear low, raspy laughter as he’s writing on your rear. with a pout, you wait as he’s continuing to write what you assume to be his number onto your skin with a sharpie.

the smell smolders against your nose quickly before he finishes, popping the black cap into his mouth. “there, call me after the hours of,” and he pauses, glancing at his watch. “hm, eleven pm.”

“thank you….” you murmur, that simple action making you throb again before your eye twitches. you make your way towards your car and then you feel a breeze through your legs. eyes widening, you turn towards the mechanic. “um- my panties? i kind of need them.”

with a sly grin, he pulls his work jeans back up before humming. “um, you kind of don’t,” he mocks your sentence, and you almost moan at the feeling of his hand squeezing your ass. toji then spanks it, the sharpie marker of his number imprinted on your skin slightly smearing against his palm.

“darlin, consider y’er panties as payment. ‘s on the house,” and you gulp, meeting his viridescent, green eyes. he looked hungry for more - that natural smirk compressing against his lips never once fading. toji brushes a thumb against your cheek before leaning against your car. “come back anytime for a fill.”

he hums cheekily at you through the mirror, closing your car door once you get in, starting the ignition. with your panties in hand, he shoots you a nod. “i’ll make it extra creamy next time. no charge, baby.”

14K notes · View notes