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satorubi · 7 days

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☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. it that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.

#🎀 — www.satorubiwrites/games !#AHHHHH WE HERE #papa toji i luv him #toji x fem! reader #toji x female reader #toji x black reader #toji x black y/n #toji smut #jjk x fem! reader #jjk x poc!reader

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hyperactively-me · 9 months

Text

king!ghost x reader -- exploratory

it’s giving anakin and padme in the fields in that one scene from attack of the clones except add in smut 💐

warnings: smut, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, missionary (also yes i am aware that this is fantasy and theres no protection here, she's not gonna get pregnant from this time because i say so lol i make the rules!)

Under the vast expanse of the open sky, the gentle clip-clop of hooves resonated through the serene countryside. You and Ghost rode side by side on your horses, the wind playing with your hair as you explored the winding trails and rolling hills of Kastron. You were rarely let out of the castle, so this little day trip with Ghost was meaningful to you. You were excited to see the natural beauty of Kastron. There was an air of freedom around you, the two of you escaping your responsibilities just for today, finding solace in the beauty of nature.

As you rounded a bend, the landscape before you transformed into a breathtaking sea of color. A ginormous flower field stretched out like a living painting, petals swaying in the breeze like waves on a tranquil sea. Your eyes widened in awe, a delighted gasp escaping your lips. You reined in your horse, a large grin forming on your face.

“Simon, look at this!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with excitement.

Ghost pulled his horse to a stop beside you, his gaze following your pointing finger. The corner of his lips quirked up as he studied your reaction, his normally stoic expression softening in the presence of your sheer delight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice warm.

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling. “I've never seen anything like it! I’m going to see it up close.” You slide off the saddle, patting your mare before turning to face the fields.

"Of course," Ghost replied, his tone holding a hint of amusement. He sits high atop his horse, studying your form.

The scent of flowers filled the air, wrapping around your body as you entered the field. The world was a carousel of colors – vibrant reds, delicate pinks, and radiant yellows, – all coming together to create a rainbow.

Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you let out a joyful whoop, throwing your arms up in the arm. You spin around, your arms outstretched, face upturned to the warm sun. Your laughter blended with the rustling of greenery in the breeze. Turning your gaze to Simon, you found him watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes. Your elation mirrored his expression, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

With a mischievous grin, you whip around and take off running through the field, your feet sinking into the soft earth with each step you take. Simon’s gasps for a moment, watching you take off. He jumps off his horse, following you as you twirl and skip amidst the flowers. His heart swells in his chest at your joy, in your simple infatuation with the fields of flowers. You’re dozens of feet ahead of him, your dress whipping in the wind as you frolick.

Yet, as you looked back to see where Simon was, you stumbled over your own feet, your laughter mixing with a surprised yelp as you fell to the ground. Simon’s heart lurches, and he breaks out into a sprint towards you, his concern immediate.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks, chest heaving, falling to his knees beside you on the ground.

You roll over onto your back, your hands hiding your face. He can’t tell if you’re laughing or crying.

“D- don’t cry,” he says gently, hands hovering over your form.

You bring your hands down over your mouth, and he sees your eyes are filled with mischief.

You burst into laughter, unable to contain the amusement bubbling within you. As your eyes meet his concerned gaze, you can’t help but laugh even harder, your mirth contagious.

“I- I’m not crying, Simon!” you manage to get out between fits of laughter.

Simon blinks at you, clearly confused by your reaction. Relief starts to mingle with his confusion as he watches you laugh, and then his lips slowly curl into a reluctant smile.

“You scared me for a moment,” he says, letting out an exhale. He looks at you, your smile, your beautiful face, and it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. He rips his balaclava off his face unexpectedly, catching you off guard. You look up at him, mouth slightly agape as your laughter dies down.

Suddenly, he straddles you, swinging his legs on each side of your body. He presses his hands into your shoulders, fingers gently squeezing your soft skin. You gasp at the feeling of his body on top of yours, and you bring your hands up to hold his wrists. You grin up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement. The flowers you’re laying in surround you like a colorful crown. The sight of you laying amongst them makes Simon’s heart pound.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just clumsy…” you murmur, brushing his tousled hair with your fingers.

He just looks at you. Your eyes flit to his mouth, his lips slightly parted. He hovers over you, unspoken desires hanging in the balance of the moment.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all day,” you whisper, trailing one of your hands up his chest.

Before he could respond, you closed your grip on his tunic and gently tugged, pulling him down towards you. The surprise in his eyes turned to a mixture of warmth and anticipation as your lips met in a soft, tender kiss.

He groans quietly into your mouth, his hands drag up from your shoulders to cup your face.

As you pulled away, Simon’s lips curved into a genuine smile. "That was worth tripping for."

You chuckled, your fingers tracing patterns on the fabric of his tunic. "Definitely worth it."

He kisses you again, pressing his hulking body on top of you. He slides his tongue into your mouth, his hands cupping your cheeks to deepen the kiss. You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so full of anticipation and your body has gone to jelly because Simon is engulfing your senses, so big and strong, so perfect, as he kisses you.

The warmth of his body against yours ignites a fire within you, the moment intensifying as he gives you more, more, more. Every touch, every caress means something more than it ever has before.

He breaks away from the kiss, panting with his face flushed. He licks his lips, pupils blown as he stares at you with nothing but adoration.

“Si, please.”

That nickname, the breathy please that fell from your lips.

It was over for him.

In an instant, he’s latched onto your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your skin, hands running down the sides of your body. He presses his hands into your sides, squeezing your soft curves. He lifts his head up from your neck when you let out the quietest, breathy moan. He looks down at you, your mouth slightly agape, his eyes search your face.

“Do you trust me?”

You lick your lips, nodding your head.

“No, no, darling, I need to hear you. Use your words.”

You shudder at his words, at his implications. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

He delves back into your neck, sliding his hand behind your head to push you closer to him.

“Wanna make y’feel good,” he mumbles into your neck between kisses, nipping at the sensitive skin. Warmth floods your face as he speaks, your core growing wet with arousal. You press your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in your core, your clit throbbing as he kisses you.

Your hands brush over his broad shoulders, swallowing as he works on your neck. Suddenly, he starts sucking hard at your skin, putting pressure into the curve. He kisses a trail from your neck, up to your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You gasp quietly, and he pulls away, admiring his work. The feeling of his feather light breath on your skin makes you shiver ever so slightly, arching your body up into him. He lets out an amused huff, running his fingers through your hair.

“What do you want, lovie?” he coos, twirling your hair in his fingers.

“Everything,” you moan lightly, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him close to you as your heart races.

He nods once, then tilts his head to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. He’s so gentle with you, methodical and patient in a way you’ve never experienced or expected from someone like him.

“‘M gonna take my time with you,” he says gently, searching your eyes. “Tell me, please, tell me if it’s ever too much at any point.”

You cup his face with your hands. He flicks away a stray flower petal that fell into your hair.

“I trust you,” you smile at him, stroking a thumb along his cheek.

With that, he slowly makes his way down to your legs, hands pressing into your ankles as he starts to lift your legs over his shoulders. He starts to bunch up the skirt of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly to give him access to your dripping core.

“Wait, won’t someone—”

“No one will see, I promise,” he says firmly, giving you a reassuring squeeze before delving under the skirt of your dress. “Besides, there's no one around here for miles,” he chuckles under your skirt.

The anticipation nearly kills you as you feel his hot breath on the insides of your thighs, your pussy throbbing for pleasure. He peppers light kisses on the insides of your thighs, calloused hands gripping onto your supple skin with purpose. One of his hands cups your clothed sex, a finger tracing the thin cotton of your panties. You’re so wet already, and he had only kissed you.

“S’ wet already,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

You gasp, hands reaching out to your sides in the earth as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulls your panties down your legs and around your ankles.

And then, as soon as he fully pulls your panties off, his mouth is on your core, licking a single stripe up your wet pussy. A light moan slips from your lips as this newfound sensation, grasping the grass and flowers around you, pulling at the flimsy stems for support. Simon starts to run his tongue in circular motions around your clit, applying pressure into it as he expertly explores your pussy. You moan louder now, more freely, as he applies pressure, thighs quivering as he sucks on you, lapping your wetness like a man starved.

You can’t take it anymore, you pull your dress off his head, raking your hands through his hair as he laps at your sweet cunt. You watch as he delves in and out, watch as his nose presses against your clit just right, his tongue pressing into your hole ever so slightly. Your back arches as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, tugging his hair as you moan. Simon flits his eyes to you, still lapping at your pussy with an eagerness as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. That cheeky bastard.

“Si,” you whimper, a plea for a moment to take in what you were feeling. You make another sound, a mix between his name and a moan, all high pitched and breathless, and he groans, his pants feeling extra tight and restricting. He exchanges a groan into your core as he holds you tighter.

“Taste s’ good f’me,” he grunts against you, “such a beautiful girl."

His groans are muted but dripping with desire against your wet cunt, pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You writhe under him, moans freely slipping from your lips, pressing your core up against his face as you arch your back into him. You can feel him salivating against you, worshiping you like a man starved, like you were the most precious thing in the world. You are to him, though. You’re everything and more to him.

The coil deep within you starts to build towards a climax, your muscles tightening as he works on relaxing you, on helping you reach the pleasure that you so highly deserved.

“Let go,” he says against your clit, squeezing your thighs in encouragement. The huskiness of his voice, the way his tongue expertly explores your core is enough for the coil in your abdomen to unravel, and you cum on his tongue. You moan breathlessly, muttering his name, chest heaving as you let go.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he breathes as he pulls away, licking your dripping wetness from his lips. “Perfect, beautiful girl.”

You keen at his praises, tugging at his hair harder as he lifts up from your core. His cheeks are flushed, lips swollen. You’re panting, heart racing, staring up into the sky, blissed out from your first orgasm. You whimper as you watch him lick his lips, and you reach your hands out for him to come to you. He immediately obeys, and as he hovers over you, you can see how his cock is straining against his pants. You push yourself up onto your elbows, eyeing his bulge for a moment before he kisses you, hard and deep. He shoves his tongue in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“So good,” you say in between kisses. Your hands dragging up to the collar of his shirt. You start to paw on it, wanting him to take it off.

“Take this off, please,” you beg, fingers sloppily moving to the buttons of his shirt.

The way you say please so prettily, he’ll do anything for you. Anything.

He doesn’t wait to unbutton each of the buttons of his shirt, so he rips the shirt off, popping the buttons off as he rips the shirt off.

“Ohhh-kay,” you whisper, taking in his bare chest. This wasn’t like when he fell into the lake, no, no, this was better. You run your hands over scars littered across his coarse skin, feeling him shudder under the touch of your soft hands. He lets you just, touch him, feel him. It’s quite nice, honestly, he thinks. He studies your face, your eyes growing wide as you run your hands across his chest and up to his broad shoulders, and squeeze them tightly.

Absent-mindedly, Simon reaches up by the side of your head, plucking a rather large wildflower from the ground. Slowly, he slips the flower behind your ear, pushing away stray strands of hair from your face.

“So beautiful, darling,” he sighs contentedly, his voice confident and full of pure affection.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away. A warm blush creeps onto your cheeks as you smile at Simon, your heart fluttering in your chest. His touch is gentle, and his actions speak of a tenderness that leaves you breathless. You find yourself lost in his deep, brown eyes.

“I’m yours, Si,” you murmur, as you start to slip the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. “All yours.”

He watches, entranced, as you pull your sleeves down lower and lower, and immediately he reaches up to help you. He takes the fabric of your gown into his hands, and he shimmies it up and off your frame, casting it to the side.

His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your naked form, eyes unabashedly raking down your body. You swallow the lump in your throat, the nervousness once taking a hold of you dissipating as he looks at you with nothing but adoration and devotion. His hands trace down your shoulders to your breasts, an animalistic desire to take you then and there strong. But no, no, he was going to take his time, be gentle, focus solely on you.

“You really don’t understand what you do to me,” he says, kneading the pillowy flesh of your breasts in his hands, tweaking your nipple, pulling a string of light moans from you.

He lowers his head down, latching onto your nipple with a contended hum. His hand grazes from your side, past your thigh, and down to your dripping core. His fingers tease your clit, and you gasp with a jolt. He chuckles against your breast, mouth moving to your other. His finger traces down from your clit to your entrance, and just before he pushes a finger in, you gasp out.

“I– I’ve never—”

He raises his head immediately, looking at your flushed face. You bite your lip, eyes looking away with embarrassment. Simon’s face morphs into a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Shh, shh, I understand. Let me take care of you, darling,” he coos, stroking your skin. “Relax f’me.”

With a breath, you nod your head, and try your best to relax your muscles, breathing in and out steadily. You stare up into the sky for a moment, grounding yourself, watching passing clouds casting shadows all around.

He agonizingly slowly plunges a single finger inside you, stilling for a moment as he feels you adjust. You shudder for a moment, your mouth open slightly as you take in his thick digit.

“Good, good girl,” he encourages, slowly pumping his finger inside you. Your back arches involuntarily, your hand sweeping in the flowers, plucking some out of the ground from your grip.

Simon grabs your hand with his free hand, allowing you to squeeze it as he works his way into you with a second finger. He starts curling his fingers inside you, reaching places you never knew existed. You let out breathy moans, gripping his hand as he picks up the pace, fucking you with his fingers.

“So perfect,” he mutters, pressing his thumb into the thumb of your hand, massaging it slightly.

“Simon, feels good,” you manage to spit out, your eyes fluttering closed as you just feel. Your wetness is gushing around his fingers.

“That’s it, lovie,” he encourages, voice sickeningly sweet. “Just one more.”

He plunges a third finger in, and you have to hold yourself back from screaming.

“My perfect girl,” he praises as you take in his third finger, now reaching deep inside you. A deep set moan releases from your throat as you take in three of his fingers, wincing just a bit from the large adjustment, but feeling pleasure nonetheless. Simon remains the embodiment of thoughtfulness and care, taking you in as you are, knowing that he has the privilege of being intimate with you. The way he stares at you in amazement, in awe, in affection has something growing even deeper within him. He loves the way he can make you come undone, the way he’s the only one who is allowed to see this side of you, the way he’s the only you trust fully and completely like this.

And with that, he can’t hold back anymore. He kisses you deeply, his fingers working in you slowly, methodically.

“Simon, please,” you beg, panting between kisses, your core aching for more than just his fingers, “need you.” Your clit is throbbing as he presses into it, building up another orgasm. The way your fingers flutter around his fingers makes his cock jump, suddenly painfully aware of how badly he wants to be inside you right now.

“I know, darling,” he soothes, yanking his pants down, his aching cock springing free from the confines of the fabric. You start to feel your muscles pulling, your wetness building up as his fingers hit a spot inside you, beckoning you to cum.

“Cum on my fingers,” he grunts, the pressure of your velvety cunt around his fingers making him move faster, reach deeper. You swallow heavily, your hips bucking into his hand a few times before cumming, soaking his fingers.

“I need you, Si,” you’re practically crying, pawing at his chest for more. Your clit is throbbing, cunt aching for his cock.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says again, sucking your slick off his fingers with a satisfied hum. You watch him, mouth agape.

“Please,” you groan again, wrapping your legs around his waist, beckoning him towards you.

In a rush, he’s checking you over, making sure you’re comfortable in the plush grass before lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

Slowly, he pushes the tip inside you, letting you adjust to the size of his cock for a moment. Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head as he barely pushes his way inside you, but this feels better than his fingers. Much better. The stretch wasn’t without some pain, but you bear with it, gripping onto him as he starts to push himself inside you further.

“I know, I know, you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear, his deep voice rattling your eardrums.

He lets out his own moan, feeling the way your pussy squeezes him just right. Your back arches at the sensation, a gargled moan slipping from your lips, encouraging him to slide the full length of his cock into you.

“F– fuck, lovie,” he moans, his voice high-pitched and husky. “So perfect—”

He finally bottoms out, hips meeting yours as you both pant, the stretch feeling so fucking good. He stills for a moment, relishing the way you squeeze and flutter around him, relishing the way your face is contorted into nothing but pleasure.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hands reaching to his shoulders as he hovers over you.

He grunts and thrusts himself into you as deep as he can. And it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. You can barely breathe as he sets a pace, slow yet not teasing. He works his way into you with a reigned fervor, his hands gripping onto you like you could break into a million pieces. You feel like you’re floating on air, your back arching, pressing into him as he pumps inside of you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your vision being taken up entirely by Simon. His eyes meet yours and for a moment, you swear he falters. He’s taken with you entirely, your eyes on him is all he needs to be happy in this world, he decides.

He hisses as you drag your fingernails down his back, holding onto him as he starts to move faster, harder.

“My beautiful, perfect wife,” he grunts, rocking into you. He beckons you to wrap your legs around his waist, yanking you closer to him.

“So soft, so soft,” he groans, lips meeting your neck in an open mouthed, sloppy kiss. “S’ happy you’re my wife.”

Your face flushes at his words, too flattered by his words to say anything. Pure bliss courses through you as he praises you, fucking into you like a man starved. He hits a region deep inside you, and you moan abruptly.

“That’s it,” he groans, his own eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head as he watches you intently. A coil builds faster by the second, your stomach muscles clenching.

“Si—” you manage to moan, your hands moving up from his back to cup his face.

Tears blur your vision as you stroke his cheek, and he almost stops thrusting in you at the sweet action. In a flash, he’s moving faster, the colors of the flowers around your body becoming a blur as his vision narrows in on you, you, you.

His hands slide down to grip your waist, his hold on you tightening. Your hands move to clasp around his neck, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck, your movements sloppy as he fucks you so nicely, so perfectly. He has to will himself to stay upright on top of you, wanting to pass out from how fucking beautiful you look, how fucking perfect you are to him.

“You’re so fucking perfect, my perfect wife,” he moans, trying to express just how much he fucking loves this, how much he holds you in high regard.

“I love you,” you blurt out, yanking him down on you. And then he’s pulling all the way out, just to slam into you again, and he can’t even find the proper words to respond, just absolutely fucking you into the flowers.

“I love you,” he strangles out, bucking his hips helplessly into yours, and you press a kiss on his shoulder. “I love you, I love you,” he groans, letting you pull his face towards yours as you give him a deep, sloppy kiss.

“I’ve loved you–” you try to say, your mind foggy as you leave open mouthed kisses along his face and neck, going down to his collarbone as he ruts into you. Simon mewls, his head dropping to your neck as you work on his skin. The coil within you is about to snap, your wetness coating his cock perfectly.

“Let go,” he says, pumping into you deeply, hitting a point that his fingers couldn’t even reach. “Let go, sweetheart.”

With that, you let out a garbled moan as you cum on his cock, clenching your eyes shut as you ride out your orgasm, the world fading away as if it's just you and him. His cock twitches inside of you as your walls flutter around him, his cock pulsating and throbbing, pent up from fucking into you. He breathes heavily, cumming into you with no remorse. God, you think you see stars as you feel him fill you up, moaning lightly as he slows to a stop. Simon is hovering over you, his hands planted on both sides of your face.

“I love you,” you say again, wrapping your arms around his neck, prompting him to lay on top of you. He stares at you, mouth agape, blinking slowly.

“I thought I dreamt you saying that,” Simon says quietly, before letting himself drop on top of you. You grunt as he lets his full body weight rest on top of you, but you didn’t mind. It felt good. Felt so good having your husband laying on you like this, after the most intimate moment you’ve ever shared with him up until this point.

He turns his face to press a kiss to your cheek. He picks more flowers from the side, stuffing them behind your ear, pushing stray hair out of your face so he can see you clearly.

“I meant what I said,” you whisper, voice hoarse. You brush some stray grass out of Simon’s hair as he goes to lay his head down in your neck.

“I know you did,” he whispers back, inhaling your scent.

“I love you, too,” he says, leaving a gentle kiss on your pulse.

. . .

After laying together for a little longer, he begrudgingly gets up to slide his pants back on. He goes over to your dress and undergarments, again, begrudgingly helping you get dressed again. You blush as he slides your panties back on your legs, breath seizing in his throat. When he finally pulls up the sleeves of your dress, you take his hand in yours.

“Si, I honestly don’t think I can ride my horse back home,” you blush, securing the flowers behind your ear.

“Ah,” he nods, looking down at you with a small smirk. “Of course.”

Suddenly, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you as though you weigh nothing. You let out a small yelp, fastening your arms around his neck securely as he makes his way over to the horses, both grazing on some grass a while away.

As he approaches his horse, he sets you down for just a moment, reigning in your mare. With a lead, he attaches your mare to his horse. You watch him for a moment before he’s back on you, lifting you up so you can sit side saddle on his horse. With a grunt, he swings on behind you, gripping your waist so you can sit steady.

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning your cheek on his chest.

“Anything for you,” he says, motioning the horses to go home.

You didn’t notice the bouquet of flowers he had shoved in his back pocket.

A souvenir to remember this day by.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#FINALLY #tooth rotting sweetness exudes from this smut #blushing so hard #cheesin so big #i'm screaming at my own fic #i'm so lonely #i'm going insane #i'm eating drywall #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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