#I made it at the beginning of last year ;<;

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Natural Breeding Clinic: Patient 1

warnings: MDNI, breeding kinks, use of pet names, piv sex, medical kink, clitoral fingering, nipple play, slight oral (male receiving)

a/n: Here it is. Enjoy ya filthy sluts (said with love). Join the taglist here! Edit: Thank you tumblr for flagging this even though there was nothing wrong with it! guys let me know if there's an issue or you can't read it.

Prologue - Patient 1 - Patient 2

You’re seated awkwardly on the edge of the examination table, trying not to fidget with your hair. Your insides feel like they’ve been tied into knots and your blood won’t stop growing hot in your veins, rushing through your ears so loudly that you feel like you might’ve been at the ocean. After years of trying and failing to find the perfect man, you’d finally given up, content to live as a single woman. But there was one unfulfilled desire you harbored that unfortunately required a member of the opposite sex; a child. After numerous inquiries and health examinations, you finally stumbled across the Jujutsu Fertility Clinic and decided that you might as well experience the entire process of a natural pregnancy.

Your heart is already beating faster than normal, something that Shoko, the kind nurse who had done your vitals, took note of before giving your hand a reassuring pat. “It’s very typical to have a slightly elevated heart rate. It’s all the anticipation. But if you feel like you’re having a panic attack, please don’t hesitate to push your call button. Your doctor will be in soon to start your session.” 

Shoko had cheerfully left the room and now you couldn’t help but feel like a horndog, imagining all the different scenarios that might play out today. You were certain you had picked the right doctor. He came off as well-spoken and kind as he’d shared details about himself while also listening to your side of things, taking note of the intimate snippets you told him as though you were discussing the weather that day.

Breathtakingly handsome and highly educated, you knew you wanted him to be the one who would father your child. Each tele-visit had left your panties drenched and you and your Hitachi wand had become better friends recently, locking yourself in your bedroom once the visit was over to run the rounded head of the toy against your needy clit, imagining the day your breeding session would be booked and you’d feel your doctor in the flesh, fantasizing what his cock would look like and how it would fill your cunt as he put a baby into you. 

Now the day was finally here. Shoko’s instructions had said to wear whatever made you feel attractive, so here you were, dressed in a demure wine-colored dress that accentuated your boobs, with little bits of cream-colored lace lingerie underneath. You were starting to question your choice of undergarments now, knowing that you were probably already wet, a telltale patch of moisture surely present on the crotch of your panties. What would your doctor think? Or perhaps he was used to this? After all, you couldn’t have been his only patient who got turned on at the prospect of sleeping with him. 

Just when the pulsations between your legs start becoming unbearable there’s a knock at the door and your heart skips a beat as you hear your name being called before your doctor enters the room. Tall, with perfect teeth, snowy locks, and aquamarine eyes, he looks at you and gives you a casual smile. The pictures paled in comparison to how personable he looked in real life. He extends a large hand with beautifully long, masculine fingers towards you, and you place your palm on it, feeling the warmth seep into your slightly clammy hands. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand before speaking.

“I’m Dr. Satoru Gojo. It’s very nice to meet you at last. Now, I know that most patients are anxious to start the insemination process right away, however, there are a few more verbal formalities we need to get out of the way before we can actually begin. This portion does need to be recorded, as I’m sure Shoko would have mentioned to you when she set up the camera.” He points towards a small camera and you nod, remembering what the dark brunette nurse had told you. 

“I can also promise you that your insemination process will not be recorded in any way. We won’t even be in the examination room as it happens. There have been a few rare instances where the patient wanted to be recorded but it was part of their sexual profile.”

He grabs the clipboard on the desk and gives you a reassuring smile. You, on the other hand, are trying not to salivate all over the floor like a rabid animal, your appetite even more whetted after his appearance in the room. 

“To confirm once more, you, F/n L/n, are giving me, Dr. Satoru Gojo, permission to breed you, and were not manipulated or coerced in any manner into making this decision, correct?”

Practicing restraint, you look at the camera. “Yes.”

“You have undergone all the necessary testing as well as physicals needed to assess your body’s condition to carry a baby and were given all the information before you chose to move forward and meet with me correct?”

“Yes.”

“You and I extensively discussed turn-ons, turn-offs, use of toys, and preferences for positions, as well as spoke about kinks in an effort to better understand how your breeding needs can be met. After these discussions were done, we mutually agreed to move forward and set up this insemination, correct?”

You lick your lips and try not to appear too eager. “Yes.”

“Perfect.” Satoru moves over to turn off the camera. “Let’s move to a more comfortable spot shall we?” He offers his hand again and you take it before hopping off the table, letting him lead you out of the room and down the hallway where he stops in front of a different door and starts punching in a code. It swings open and he gestures for you to enter. Your eyes widen as you step inside. It has the look of a posh hotel room, with a large king-sized bed set in the middle. Low-lit lamps made for romantic lighting were scattered across the room as Satoru follows you and the door locks closed behind you with a click.

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him right behind you, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you against his well-toned chest. “You’re so tense sweetheart. Don’t worry.” He presses a kiss on top of your head. “Just focus on enjoying the process. We’re going to repeat it after all, until your womb quickens with my seed, growing the thing you want the most.” His voice is a deep, sensual purr in your ear, said so gently yet carrying such a dirty undertone that it sent a jolt of pleasure straight into your clit. 

“You said you like cuddling prior to your sexual escapades. Shall we?” He glances over at the large bed and you swallow, nodding. 

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Please. We’re going to get quite intimately acquainted now. Call me Satoru. Trust me it helps.” Licking your lips, you take his lead and he guides you to the bed, laying you down gently on the pillows before settling behind you, your back pressed to his chest, his long legs brushing against yours, causing every nerve in your body to be on high alert. 

Though you had said you enjoyed cuddling which led to foreplay, your body was already sensitized from the knowledge that a sexual encounter was going to happen and you weren’t quite in the mood for cuddling. Still, you allowed yourself to be wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, a kind of fresh, watery musk, and feeling his breath on your ear. His hands entwined with yours, gently flexing your fingers with his in the spaces in between, nuzzling the crook of your neck, making you feel like you were about to spontaneously combust. One of his hands leaves yours and begins to wander down your collarbone, delicately stroking, before dipping lower, tracing the neckline of your dress down to the swell of your breasts, letting his fingertips drag teasingly over an already hard nipple before resting on your belly, playing with the soft squish of it, feeling the way your body reacted to his touch. 

Rushes of heat keep darting under your skin, and far too soon, your rounded ass starts to arch back, grinding shamelessly into his thighs, stifling a wanton noise when you feel hardness pressing back against you. A low chuckle, punctuated by a soft nibble on your ear. Unsure, you pause, wondering if you’d somehow done something funny.

“It’s perfectly normal to feel like you need to bring some movement in response to being touched.” Satoru’s hand comes back to stroke your breast over your dress, the light petting sending little erotic skitters along your skin.  “Don’t fight it,” he says reassuringly, then slides his hand onto your hip and pulls you against him, subtly thrusting into your plump rear. “Just do whatever you’d normally do.”

A sigh of longing leaves your throat and you start to rousingly roll your hips against Satoru’s erection, feeling a spike in your confidence as he lets out a soft groan. “There you go, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

Fuelled by his encouragement, you roll over to lay face to face, seeing those hypnotic eyes watch you intently, and trace a finger across his jawline, shyly tipping your face up to his for a kiss. He obliges, dipping his head down and capturing your lips, and you revel in the way his mouth feels. You’d been dreaming about it for what felt like ages, and now to finally experience it was a heady rush. Your mouth opens to accept his probing tongue, the wet slip gliding over yours, sampling his taste, feeling the softness of his lips. His hands play with your hair, running enticingly down your back, cupping your ample bottom and pushing, drawing you closer to his heat and growing erection. 

Your kisses grow impatient as he continues to tease you, squeezing and tickling your trapped flesh over your dress, hands slipping just low enough to flirt with the hem but not quite low enough to actually get under it. You whine, pulling away from Satoru’s mouth, and notice he’s observing you, eyes concentrated on your face.

“What is it?” He pushes your hair away from your face, softly brushing his thumb against your cheek. “Are you feeling ok?”

You nod, trying not to let your frustration show, but your clit clenches almost angrily now, the intense need to be splayed open and touched taking over all your rational thinking. Satoru presses little kisses onto your forehead, the tip of your nose, and your now closed eyelids, the soft gestures doing little to cool your aching desire. He drags his tongue along the column of your throat and places open-mouthed kisses as he goes. 

The sigh that leaves your throat is full of lust, your hands getting impatient as you finally find the nerve to grasp the fancy knot in his tie and loosen it. A low hum leaves him as he comes back to your face. “There you go. I’m yours for now. Do whatever you want with me.” He draws circles into the skin of your upper thighs, exposed from your wriggling, the skirt of the dress hiked up provocatively. His voice drops to a sultry purr. “After all, we’re here to make sure you’re satisfied. I’m here to ensure you get the maximum pleasure your body needs in order to welcome my seed  into your body.”

Gaining courage, you slip the tie off Satoru’s neck, then turn your attention to his buttons, fingers trembling from anticipation as you begin to undo them, revealing more and more of his pale skin, and his toned chest and abs. Of course he is in perfect shape, and your eyes drink in the vision that he is, watching the way his skin ripples as he draws in a breath. Could you have picked a more handsome doctor? It seems impossible. You reach out to stroke his skin and he sucks in a breath before drawing you against the expanse of his body. 

Satoru’s mouth drops to the crook of your neck, giving it a gentle nip that sends a hot shiver down your spine. “I think you’d make a great mother.” He kisses along the length of your collarbone before hooking a finger into the neckline of your dress and dragging it down your arm to expose more of your shoulder. “I bet you’d look so cute, with a little round baby bump, your breasts becoming fuller each day, your hips growing wider.” A breathy sigh escapes your lips and he kisses the heated skin, sucking on it hard enough to leave a little red mark. 

“Heh. That was a cute sound. You’re so responsive.” He takes advantage of the exposed skin and kisses just at the top of the swell of your breasts and you let your impatience get the best of you, looking up at him pleadingly to take off your dress. 

He obliges, finally grabbing the rumpled fabric bunched at your hips and pulling the silky material off your body. When it’s gone, he gazes down at you in your pretty lingerie. “You dressed up for me? That’s so sweet.” He licks at the valley between your breasts pushed up by the tiny strips of lace. Air hits you at various places, and you can feel an unmistakable stripe of wetness seeping from your cunt onto the lace thong you’re wearing. The tiny piece of clothing had soaked through, making the already revealing thong practically see-through. Satoru sweeps a long finger against it, feeling moisture against his digits. “You’ve been wanting to be bred for a while now huh?” He pops open your bra, feasting on the display of flesh. He cups your tender breasts and gives soft squeezes, perking up your nipples even more, gently tweaking and pulling at them. 

“Waiting so patiently for someone to finally fuck you the way you deserve. To fill your sweet cunt with enough cum to finally get your body in the mood to grow it. Disappointed by so many cocks.” His crude words accompanied by the erotic stimulation of his hands make you moan. The thought of being filled with this man’s baby, to carry it inside you till it grows was pulling at your primal mating instincts. “Till you met me. Don’t worry. Your body will do everything it can to make sure you grow what I give you. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll push it in real deep, ensure it all goes into your womb.”

Chuckling at the way your expression contorts from his fingers, he admires how hard your nipples are, the way they respond to his touch. He palms the creamy flesh of your breasts, and you feel rushes of heat skittering through your body. “Oh, baby these are gonna get so round and full once I fuck you properly. Bet that milk would taste divine.”

Satoru lowers his mouth and draws an aching nipple into his mouth, drawing a strangled cry from you. The texture of his tongue over the stiffened peaks immediately heightens all your senses, feeling pleasure radiate from the center of your breast, feeling it mirrored between your legs where your clit pulsed and throbbed irritably from the madness of needing to be touched. His free hand rests at the top of your other nipple and pushes it in circles, building up your arousal to a fever pitch.

Your blood is hot and running like whiskey through your veins, throwing a punch of heat into your gut, a dizzy spiral of want floating from your throat down into the wet and awaiting folds of your cunt. Satoru takes his time with you, acutely aware of the way your body is already tingling with the desire of wanting to be taken like a bitch in heat. He sees the need of wanting to be filled, to have those soaked walls stroked with his fingers and cock. This is what he was hoping to see. 

Changing nipples, he teasingly bites the other one while his free hand snakes down towards your navel, your muscles tensing under the tickling sensation of his wandering fingers, stroking your belly before finally dipping lower to cup your mound under the flimsy fabric of your panties. With a smooth movement, Satoru hooks his finger into the waistband and drags it off, tossing it away. All your senses become alert, waiting in tortured agony as you feel him part your slick flesh, and his fingers probe the very outer edges of your dripping folds.

A keening moan of want leaves your mouth. His lips leave your moist nipple with a plop as his long middle finger slips to the apex of your pussy, finally giving your needy clit the attention it had been craving. He touches the engorged bud, applying light circles onto it that drive you wild, your sweet noises filling the room. Your legs part so willingly, planting your feet into the mattress, toes curling into the bedspread as he pets your clit tenderly. “Harder,” you manage to choke out, feeling the nub contract. “Please.” The word comes out as a whine as he continues those patient strokes. 

“Good. It’s better when you’re so desperate like this. Your body will be more receptive to me breeding you this way. How much harder, sweetheart?” Satoru’s other hand takes over, holding the swollen folds of your sex apart, giving him better access to tease and toy with your delicate bundle of nerves. He increases the pressure of the stroke a fraction, making you squirm but also groan in frustration. 

“More. It needs to be harder.”

Heeding your request, Satoru adjusts his hand, slipping his ring finger inside your dribbling hole, watching how it gets sucked in with no resistance, and replaces his thumb on your clit. Pushing down firmly onto the center he resumes the circling motions and brings a jolt of pleasure to your system. “Ooh Satoru…” You croon his name as he gets the pressure just right, each motion now bringing delicious friction into your core. Another finger joins the first, curling up to find that sweet patch inside your gummy walls, alternating with scissoring movements as he prepares you for what’s about to come. 

Your body is tense, a bow drawn taut, waiting for the arrow to be let loose. Your hips move on their own accord to match his rhythm, nails sinking into the silky sheets, as though worried you might lose your orgasm if you dared let go. When your body finally gives you release, that pleasurable sequence of delightful spasms, your breath tears from your throat, each wave hitting you more intensely than the last, your core and clit clenching and relaxing as you ride out every last drop of pleasure. 

His mouth covers yours as you orgasm, his kiss intense as he feels your spasms calm down on his fingers, pulling them out and inhaling before sucking them clean. “Delicious…” he murmurs before placing his fingers near your lips, which you accept, sucking the lingering taste of your pussy and his skin, watching the way his eyes darken as you do so. 

“Perfect. You’re ready to be bred now.” Satoru’s hands go to his belt buckle and undo it, and you hear the whine of the zipper as he pulls off his slacks. You can see the bulge of his erection masked behind his underwear and your mouth waters at the size. The pants are discarded into a corner and he begins to slip out of his final piece of clothing, freeing his aching cock from its confines. The lovely engorged tissue was warm, his mushroom head leaking precum from the hole, impressively long with the veins popping from arousal along the sides. You can’t help yourself as you lean over, giving a teasing lick and hearing his breath strangle in his chest. He indulges you for a moment, letting you taste him, your lips catching the milky beads that form, but when you wrap your lips around his head and bob down, he quickly yanks you off him. 

He’s panting, a sheen of sweat covering those chiseled abs, and shakes his head, his white locks dancing on his face before flashing you a grin. “You’re such a tease. But I can’t risk the insemination by letting you have your way, no matter how good it feels.” He lays back on the bed, beckoning you to lay over him, and you feel clumsy as you crawl over to him, resting a knee on either side of his hips. His arms wrap around you and encourage you to rest on top of him, the feeling of heated skin pressing together adding to your delicate state. He strokes your back and kisses you again, his tongue sloppy as it explores your mouth. When he pulls away, he adjusts his hands on your hips, ensuring you were comfortable laying on him. 

“Take a breath.”

You follow his instruction and the exhale turns into a drawn out moan as he guides his cock into your aching wetness. The tip spreads you open followed by his incredible length, your body helplessly sinking onto him, impaled on the column of heated velvet. A long “oh” escapes your lips, his cock seated so intimately inside you, feeling him just shy of your cervix. He’s patient about it, letting you adjust and wriggle, your hands splaying out on his abdomen as you take a few breaths to clear your mind. He felt so good, so hard and manly, his veins pulsing inside you, adding a delicious layer of additional friction as he teasingly drew out. An animalistic growl leaves your throat at his retreat, his tip threatening to slip out of your lubricated core before he thrusts back up into you, the stroke filling the wet channel so satisfyingly.

Lost in the sensations, you allow him to cradle you on his chest, taking his sweet time fucking you, timing his thrusts to your breathing, which becomes shallow as your pleasure builds. Your cunt is dribbling from the heat, the scent of fecundity filling the room, his cock stroking your inner walls desirably. Your pussy clenches, sucking him further into you, pulling him closer to your womb where you needed him. With a moan, you raise up off his chest, using him as support, and start to ride him, his veiny erection slickened from your arousal. 

“Oh that’s it my girl. Take it.” Satoru pushes your hair away from your face as you rise and crash down on him, your hips bucking like your life depended on it. His warm hands cup your bouncing breasts, watching your face contort as you use him for your own need. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock. You like it huh? Need it in you…want it to shoot all that cum into your womb…” He purrs the words as those magnificent eyes look straight into yours. 

The sound of slapping skin fills the room, both your moans mingling in the air. You did need to bred. You had waited long enough. Your mind is a haze of sexual disarray, nothing more important than getting what you need from him. To be bred like the good girl you were, to finally have your most deepest desire fulfilled. Your thigh muscles are tiring, you can feel them quiver in protest but primal instinct is driving you to keep moving, to bounce on his cock until he cums and fills you with his creamy seed…

You gasp in surprise as Satoru’s large hands squeeze around your waist, steadying you, and slowing you down before reversing your positions. He looms over you and has not slipped out with the transition. “Let me do it. You shouldn’t have to work so hard for this.” Angling his hips, he does a few experimental thrusts until he feels his head brush into the spongy knot of nerves inside your body, making you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut, fingernails sinking into the sinew of his perfect ass. 

He surges forward, taking care to brush against it each time, his forearms and biceps rippling as he thrusts. Your legs wrap around his waist, wanton noise leaving your lips as you cling to him, feeling ecstatic rushes of delight humming through your veins. He murmurs frivolities into your ears as he sets up a comfortable rhythm, gspot first, followed by a soft kiss of his tip against your cervix. “Pretty mama. Gonna make you so round and full. You’ll be going home with a part of me inside you. I’ll give you enough today to last until your next round. Don’t worry if it drips. It’s just a sign of how well you’ve been bred.”

Your walls clamp down on him, feeling so full of him, imagining the vivid image he’d described, of becoming plump and glowy, growing life inside your body. “I want that so much,” you confess, glancing up at him and he makes a grunt of approval. 

“Get ready then.”

His movements become faster, his balls slapping against you as he picks up his pace, panting, sweat forming on both your bodies. His abs are tight as he chases his orgasm, feeling his balls starting to draw up in anticipation. Your mouth is open, lewd noises falling from your lips as you wait for him to give you what you need, then feel the familiar spasms gripping your pussy and lose yourself as your body is rewarded with a second orgasm. Satoru lets out a moan as he finally falls off the edge, satisfied with your climax, and sheathes himself completely into your heat, pushing himself as far in as he can go, letting spurts of his hot cum dribble into you, shooting into your fertile womb. He stills, catching his breath, and to ensure that gravity doesn’t work against you, plugging you effectively until he’s sure enough time has passed before he can safely pull out. Satoru’s cock is semi-limp, as he frees himself with a soft squelching noise.

He draws you against him again, reassuringly stroking your back and smoothing your hair. “You did so well sweetheart. Take some rest now. A nap will give your body a little break and do what it needs to do. Just imagine your next insemination session as you rest.” 

His words are a soothing purr in your ear and your eyes did feel heavy and you decide a nap wasn’t a bad idea at the moment. Cozying up to your warm doctor, you sigh against his skin and let yourself fall asleep. You wake up an hour later still snug in his arms. Satoru confirms your next appointment before helping you back into your clothes, and walking you to the reception. 

“I hope this journey will give you everything you want,” he says courteously to you before stepping back into the clinic. You follow up with your remaining four insemination sessions, each more satisfying than the last.

Waiting was the hardest part. But finally, you take the pregnancy test, feeling your heart flutter when the double lines show up in the little window. 

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[mssalo]

safety - Part: Il

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Breaking and entering, Scent kink, Voyeurism, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of military past, Manipulation, Power dynamics, Male masturbation, Joel, still, needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

9k. enjoy.

Part I Part III

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel found out she was working at the supply store by accident.

He hadn’t planned on seeing her again. After that first encounter, he convinced himself he’d walk away.

She wasn’t his problem.

He couldn’t get wrapped up in someone like her—someone who had no idea how dangerous the world really was.

But then, on one of his routine stops for supplies, he spotted her behind the counter.

She hadn’t seen him

At first, he’d assumed she was just a customer again, passing through, but when she’d ducked behind the register, pulling out receipts, it hit him.

She worked there now.

She hadn’t told him that before, hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and yet here she was, talking to customers, rearranging gear, moving around the store like it was something she’d been doing forever.

And for some reason, that made something inside him tighten.

She was here all the time. Regular hours, regular shifts.

Easy to find.

That should’ve made him feel nothing. But it didn’t.

That’s so fuckin’ dangerous.

From that point on, whenever he stopped by the store, he made sure to keep his distance.

He’d walk in, grab what he needed, and leave before she noticed him.

There was something about seeing her there—watching her smile and chat with customers—that unnerved him in a way he couldn’t explain.

She didn’t fit in with the world he knew.

She was too soft, too bright. She belonged somewhere safe, not in a place like this.

Yet, he found himself coming back.

Over and over.

Each time, he told himself it was the last time.

That he’d stop, that he didn’t need to see her again.

But every time he came back, she was there—talking to someone, laughing at some joke, her voice floating through the air like a song he couldn’t get out of his head.

Joel tried to ignore it.

Tried to ignore her.

But she was like a goddamn magnet, pulling him back in without even realizing it.

And then, one day, she spotted him.

“Joel!” she called, her voice bright and cheerful, as if they were old friends.

He froze, his hand tightening around the bag of supplies he’d grabbed.

He’d been so close to slipping out unnoticed, but now she was looking at him, smiling that same smile that made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” he muttered, forcing himself to turn and meet her gaze.

She was standing behind the counter, hands resting on the edge, her eyes lighting up as she looked at him.

These damn pretty eyes.

“I didn’t know you came here so often,” she said, her tone playful.

“What’s bringing you back this time?”

Joel grunted, trying to come up with a quick excuse. “Needed more supplies. That’s all.”

She didn’t seem to notice the coldness in his voice, just kept smiling at him like he hadn’t been avoiding her for days.

“You always seem so prepared,” she said with a small laugh. “I bet you could survive out there for weeks with all the stuff you buy.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. Survive? 

She had no idea what that meant.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes flicking to the side as if she wasn’t sure what to say next.

But then she turned back to him, her expression softening again.

“You know, I’ve been learning more about the gear here,” she said, leaning forward a bit. “I could help you with recommendations if you ever need it.”

Joel stared at her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Why was she still talking to him? Why was she being so damn nice?

“I’m good,” he said, his voice gruff.

But she didn’t stop.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright with curiosity. “You sure? I’ve been reading up on it a lot. Could probably surprise you with what I know.”

You shouldn’t trust me, Joel thought, his mind racing. 

Why are you still smiling at me?

He grunted again, shifting on his feet, his gaze flicking to the door.

He needed to leave. Now.

“Well,” she said, that same smile tugging at her lips, “if you ever need anything, just let me know. I’m here most days now.”

Too much information. 

Joel’s gut clenched. She shouldn’t be telling him this—telling anyone this. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was to be so open, so trusting?

“You shouldn’t tell people that,” Joel muttered, his voice harsher than he meant. “Not safe.”

Her brows furrowed, her smile slipping for the first time. “What do you mean?”

Joel felt the weight of her confusion settle on him, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “Tellin’ strangers where you work. When you work. Ain’t smart.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Oh... I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”

Of course, you didn’t. 

Joel’s mind reeled, his frustration bubbling just below the surface.

You don’t know how to think like that. You don’t know what the world can do to people like you.

But before he could say anything else, she smiled again, though this time it was smaller, a bit softer.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” she said, her voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to—well, I guess I’m just not used to thinking like that.”

Yeah. I can tell.

But instead of saying that, Joel just nodded, his jaw still tight. He needed to leave, needed to stop this before he got in too deep.

Here’s a darker, more intense version of that passage:

“See you around,” she called after him as he turned to leave.

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t.

His throat was tight, his chest heavy. But as he pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cool air, something made him look back.

She was still watching him. Smiling. Soft. So damn innocent.

That look in her eyes—so full of trust—twisted something deep inside him.

She doesn’t know better.

His boots hit the pavement harder than necessary as he made his way to the truck.

Every step felt heavy, like the weight of his thoughts was dragging him down. His hand found the door handle, but he couldn’t make himself move.

Couldn’t shake the way her scent still clung to him, sweet and soft, like she was still standing right next to him.

Joel gritted his teeth, staring down at the truck door, but all he could see was her face.

Her wide, bright eyes, that shy smile, the way she just… trusted.

Trusted him. She shouldn’t.

His body felt hot, the tension coiling low in his gut, his muscles tight.

Too tight.

And then he felt it again—his cock, straining against his jeans, hard and throbbing, a deep, almost painful ache that made his breath catch in his throat.

Fuck.

It hit him like a freight train, sudden and unwanted. His mind raced, trying to push the thought of her away, but the harder he tried, the worse it got.

His pulse pounded in his ears, the heat in his body rising as the memory of her soft voice echoed in his mind.

That innocent, clumsy laugh. The way she fumbled with the gear. The blush on her cheeks.

Joel’s grip tightened on the door handle, his knuckles turning white.

What the hell is wrong with you?

He hadn’t felt this in years. This need. This raw, primal hunger gnawing at him.

His body betrayed him, his cock throbbing harder, almost painfully, as if it knew something he didn’t.

But it was because of her.

The realization, again, made his chest tighten, his breath coming in rough, uneven bursts.

He slammed the door shut, leaning his forehead against the cool metal, trying to calm the storm raging inside him.

No. Not her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but her image was burned into his mind—her body, her smell, the softness in her eyes.

His cock twitched again, the pressure building, his jeans too tight, the pulse unbearable.

She was so sweet. So oblivious.

And here he was, standing in the parking lot like a goddamn animal, throbbing with need for something he knew he shouldn’t want.

But the thought of her lingered. The way she looked up at him like he was something to be trusted. Something safe.

Joel forced himself into the truck, gripping the wheel so tight he thought it might break.

His heart pounded in his chest, the tension making every breath feel like fire.

He needed to forget her. Get her out of his head.

But his body told him otherwise.

The throbbing between his legs refused to be ignored. His jaw clenched, muscles tight with frustration as the thoughts swirled, dark and unwanted.

He hadn’t felt like this in years. Not since before everything went to hell.

And now? Now this girl—this soft, sweet girl—had him unraveling.

Joel’s head thudded against the back of the seat, his pulse still racing. This wasn’t going to end well.

Not for him.

And definitely not for her.

· · ────

The following days were a blur of uncomfortable tension.

Joel tried to stay away.

He told himself not to go back to the store, not to linger around her.

He even went out on longer drives, tried to immerse himself in the things that usually kept his mind quiet.

But it didn’t work. Not anymore.

She was lodged in his thoughts, a constant, nagging presence that he couldn’t shake.

No matter how hard he tried to forget her, she always managed to crawl back in.

Her face, her voice, the way she smiled up at him like he wasn’t something to fear.

It gnawed at him, a reminder of everything he’d left behind.

A week passed before Joel saw her again.

This time, it was different. He wasn’t just there for supplies or to catch a glimpse of her. No, this time, he watched her more carefully.

Observing.

He kept his distance at first, lingering near the back of the store, eyes flicking toward her every few minutes as she worked.

She hummed to herself again, that same soft tune he’d heard the first time they met.

It wasn’t loud, barely audible under the sound of the store, but he caught it.

And it made something tighten inside him.

For a man who lived in shadows, always on alert, this brightness—this innocence—felt foreign. Her having no need to be quiet so she won’t be seen.

Wrong.

And yet, he couldn’t stop watching her.

She smiled as she spoke to a customer, her eyes lighting up as she handed them their change.

She was so goddamn open, so trusting. And that terrified him.

He told himself it was because she didn’t know better. She didn’t know what kind of world she lived in.

She hadn’t seen the things he’d seen, hadn’t done the things he’d done.

That was why he watched her so closely now.

He was protecting her. Keeping her safe.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

The next day, she found him again, her voice soft but cheerful as she spoke up. “You’re back! Need anything else?”

Joel stared at her for a moment, his chest tightening at how easily she smiled at him. “Just… lookin’.”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Well, if you ever need recommendations, I’m your girl.”

He tried to brush it off, tried to keep his voice steady, his eyes focused anywhere but on her.

But when she started talking about her weekend plans, everything shifted.

“I’m actually heading out for a solo trip this weekend,” she said, her voice filled with excitement.

“Found this beautiful spot just outside of town. Gonna do some camping, get away from everything for a bit.”

Joel’s blood ran cold.

Camping? Alone?

His jaw clenched as he stared at her, trying to process what she’d just said.

A girl like her? Out in the wilderness by herself?

The world wasn’t safe, and she was too naive to see that. She didn’t understand the dangers lurking just beyond the treeline.

“Where?” His voice was rough, demanding.

The softness from earlier was gone, replaced by the cold, hard edge that usually kept people at a distance.

She blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Uh… it’s just a little spot out past the ridge. Really pretty.”

Joel felt his chest tighten.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he said, his voice dark, laced with warning. “It’s not safe.”

She blinked, clearly confused by his sudden shift. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice now. “I’ve done this before.”

“No, you won’t,” Joel growled, stepping closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “You have no idea what’s out there.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, brows furrowed. “I—”

“You’ll get yourself killed,” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower, more threatening.

His paranoia was slipping through now, his need to protect her—to control the situation—overwhelming him. “You’re not prepared for what’s out there.”

There was a long pause, the tension thick between them. She opened her mouth to speak, but Joel wasn’t done.

“If you’re set on goin’,” he said, his tone calmer now, but still dark, “I know a better place. Secluded. Safe.”

His mind was spinning with the need to protect her, to make sure she was under his watch. “It’s past the ridge. You won’t find it on a map, but it’s perfect for campin’.”

That was his land. His very own property, tucked away from prying eyes, isolated and quiet. His land. Where he could keep an eye on her.

Her eyes brightened again, the tension between them easing just slightly. “Really? That sounds amazing! I’d love to check it out.”

Trusting so easily.

Joel nodded slowly, watching her carefully.

“I’ll give you the coordinates,” he said, his voice rough, his gaze still locked on hers. “Just… be careful.”

She smiled again, oblivious to the darkness brewing behind his eyes. “Thank you, Joel. I appreciate it.”

There's that damn blush again.

Joel nodded again, but his mind was already elsewhere.

She didn’t belong out there alone. And now, after hearing her plans, Joel knew what he had to do.

She wouldn’t be alone.

If she wouldn’t protect herself, then he would

· · ────

It happened by accident, really.

Joel had been driving through town, running his usual errands—another routine day where he tried to keep his mind occupied with anything but her.

It was something he’d been forcing himself to do for the past few days, convincing himself that the tension in his chest would ease if he just avoided her, if he didn’t let himself linger in her orbit for too long.

But fate had other plans.

As he turned down a quiet street on the edge of town, his eyes caught movement.

A figure stepped out of a small, unassuming house, barely noticeable in the corner of his eye.

Joel wasn’t even sure why he slowed down at first. He told himself it was out of habit, that old soldier instinct to assess everything in his surroundings. But the moment he saw her, all rational thought slipped away.

It was her.

She stood there, fumbling with her keys and a couple of grocery bags, her hair falling loose around her shoulders in soft waves.

Joel’s foot hovered over the brake for just a second too long as he watched her struggle to balance the bags and unlock the door.

Her face was flushed, lips moving as she muttered something to herself—a frustrated little quirk of her mouth that made his chest tighten.

There was something different about seeing her like this.

Here, in her space.

Not at the store, not somewhere public. But here—outside her home.

He felt a knot of something unfamiliar, something deep and possessive curl in his stomach.

She didn’t notice him at all. She was too busy juggling her things, her focus entirely on the door in front of her.

Joel’s gaze swept over her as he slowly rolled by, his truck moving at a crawl now.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even though a part of him knew he should’ve kept driving.

But the pull was too strong.

There was a softness about her here that felt even more pronounced.

Her home, small and tucked away from the busier streets, suited her in a way that he hadn’t expected. It was unassuming, private, but open in a way that made Joel feel… unsettled.

Like she was too exposed, too vulnerable, and too easy to find. Too easy for someone to hurt.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as the thought crossed his mind.

She had no idea how dangerous the world really was. How quickly things could go wrong.

He drove past, the truck moving with painful slowness, his eyes flicking from the road to her again and again.

She didn’t see him. Not once. And for some reason, that bothered him more than it should have.

She hadn’t locked the door when she finally went inside.

Of course, she hadn’t.

Joel’s chest tightened with frustration, his jaw clenching as he drove farther down the road, turning the corner and pulling to a stop just out of sight.

Now that he knew where she lived, something shifted. He couldn’t just drive away and forget about it. No, she was here, alone, with no sense of the dangers that could easily find her.

He shouldn’t care. It wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his problem.

But that’s not how it felt anymore.

· · ────

It wasn’t until later that night, as he lay in bed, that the dream came.

It wasn’t like the usual ones—flashes of war, the men he’d fought alongside, the sounds of gunfire and the stink of blood.

This one was different and it hit harder than anything he’d experienced in years.

He dreamt of her.

Of her in that house. And something, someone, breaking in.

It was chaos.

She was screaming, fighting to get free, and all he could do was watch, powerless, as she disappeared into the shadows.

He woke up drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins.

For a moment, Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been real—that she was in danger and he hadn’t been there to stop it.

His hand instinctively reached for the knife he kept near the bed, fingers gripping the handle like it was his lifeline.

His breath came in heavy bursts, his body rigid with the need to protect, to act.

He could still hear her screams, still see her face twisted in fear.

She wasn’t safe.

And it wasn’t just a dream. Joel knew then, in that moment, that he couldn’t let this go.

He couldn’t just stand by and hope for the best.

It was only a matter of time, before something bad would happen to her.

He had to make sure she was okay, had to make sure nothing like that ever happened to her.

And if that meant going out of his way to keep an eye on her, then so be it.

· · ────

The next day, he drove by her house again.

And the day after that.

Each time, he told himself it was just a precaution, just a way to make sure she wasn’t in any real danger.

He didn’t get too close, didn’t let himself be seen.

But every time he saw her, the tension in his chest loosened just a little, knowing she was still there, still safe.

He found out more about her routines—when she left for work, when she came back.

He watched as she went about her day, completely unaware of the eyes that followed her every move.

She wasn’t like the rest of the world—hardened and scarred by violence.

She was soft, untouched by the darkness that clung to everything Joel had known.

And that’s why she needed him.

· · ────

The more he watched her, the more he realized how easy it would be for something to go wrong.

A stranger could approach her on her walks, someone could break into her house, anything could happen.

And if he wasn’t there to stop it… she would be defenseless.

That feeling from the dream—the panic, the helplessness—still clung to him, gnawing at his gut like a festering wound.

He couldn’t shake it, couldn’t convince himself to turn around and go home.

That’s why he had started breaking into her house.

Naturally.

At first, it was just to make sure everything was secure.

He would check the locks, make sure the windows were latched, make sure there were no signs of forced entry.

But the more he let himself in, the more his reasons shifted.

He started checking her camping gear, making sure everything was in place.

Joel crouched down, fingers brushing over the rough material as he unzipped the bag.

His hands moved through her belongings with the same careful touch, checking each item she’d packed.

He frowned when he noticed some of the essentials missing.

No proper emergency gear. Not enough food. Definitely not enough water.

She wasn’t ready.

His chest tightened with a mix of frustration and concern.

She had no idea what she was walking into.

The wild didn’t care how innocent or sweet you were—it tore people apart.

And she was so damn trusting, so clueless about the danger that lurked everywhere.

Joel zipped the bag back up and stood, a plan already forming in his mind.

She couldn’t go out there alone, not without the proper gear. Not without protection.

He’d make sure she had what she needed.

He’d leave it for her—quietly, subtly.

She didn’t need to know he was the one watching over her.

She didn’t need to know just how deep his involvement went.

His feet led him down the hall, toward the room at the end—the door slightly ajar, a soft, warm glow spilling from inside.

Joel’s breath hitched as he stepped further inside, his boots nearly silent on the hardwood floor.

It was small, simple, but unmistakably hers.

A bed with a soft quilted cover, a small nightstand with a book left open, and clothes folded neatly on a chair in the corner.

Joel swallowed hard, his throat dry as his eyes roamed over the space.

He moved slowly, carefully, his eyes scanning the room like he was surveying a battlefield.

Everything was neat, untouched, just as he’d expected.

But as he stood there, something twisted in his chest. He wasn’t just here to check on her safety.

Something else caught his attention.

Her underwear.

At first, it was an accident. He wasn’t looking for it, but when he stumbled upon it—soft, lacy, and used—he couldn’t stop himself.

His hands reached for it before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers brushing against the delicate fabric.

His breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that.

But the scent—her scent—was intoxicating, wrapping around him like a drug. His mind flashed with images of her wearing it, of her undressing, her skin soft and bare beneath his touch.

Joel’s grip tightened on the fabric, his body reacting in ways he hadn’t felt in years. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight, the throbbing between his legs impossible to ignore. He was so hard.

This wasn’t just about keeping her safe anymore. It was about something deeper, something darker.

He brought the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of her wash over him.

His eyes fluttered shut, his mind filling with thoughts he had no right to think.

He hadn’t let himself feel something like this —this raw, uncontrollable hunger—but now, standing in her bedroom, holding something so private, so close to her, it hit him like a wave.

Joel inhaled deeply, the scent wrapping around him like a haze, flooding his senses. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing deepened, and the scent clung to him, almost suffocating him in the best way possible.

The sweetness, mixed with something so personal, made his heart pound harder in his chest, heat rising in his body.

She had no idea.

No idea what she did to him.

How that softness, that scent, chipped away at the walls he build.

His fingers tightened around the fabric as he held it closer, the warmth of her scent flooding his senses.

His mind was clouded with images—images of her.

She shouldn’t be this trusting.

He imagined her standing there, blushing, lips parting slightly, her soft voice spilling from them, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through his mind.

She was just too easy to picture—too easy to want.

too sweet.

Too soft. Too innocent for someone like him.

Joel’s grip tightened as he let his mind spiral deeper into the images of her—blushing, trembling, staring up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that would soon be filled with something else.

His fingers tightened around the fabric, his body responding in ways he couldn’t deny any longer.

He fought to steady his breathing, to push the dark thoughts from his mind, but they were there, lurking just beneath the surface, no matter how hard he tried.

He shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want her. 

He wasn’t just imagining her anymore—he was feeling her, smelling her, letting her invade his mind and body in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his breathing rough as he tried to regain control.

But the more he let the fabric linger in his hands, the more he realized—he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to let go.

Joel stayed like that, frozen in the moment, inhaling deeply, the used fabric of her underwear still clutched in his hands as he lost himself in the dark, possessive thoughts swirling in his mind.

He knew it wouldn’t be the last time. He couldn’t stop now.

The pull was too strong, too overwhelming.

Without even thinking, he raised the fabric closer, his lips hovering just above it.

His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, aching rhythm, the temptation crawling under his skin.

He hesitated for just a moment, knowing how wrong this was, how far he was crossing a line.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Nothing could stop him now.

Joel’s breath hitched, and his lips brushed against the soft material, barely making contact at first.

He could feel the warmth, the faint trace of her cunt, lingering on the fabric, and it sent a wave of heat rushing through him.

His grip tightened.

The softness pressed against his mouth, and for a split second, he let his tongue flicker out, tasting her sweet pussy, just barely.

It was subtle, a hint of something forbidden, but it sent a jolt straight through him.

He felt himself tense, his body reacting in ways he could no longer control, the line between protection and obsession blurring even more.

He wanted more.

Before he could let his tongue get another lick, Joel heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

That did certainly stop him.

His body stiffened, and in a heartbeat, all the dark, twisted satisfaction evaporated, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

His mind raced, his fingers trembling as he fumbled to put everything back exactly where it had been.

Not now. Not like this.

He moved swiftly but silently, making sure every trace of him disappeared. Every drawer closed, every fabric in place. He couldn’t leave any sign that he had been there.

His heart pounded against his ribcage as he slipped out of the bedroom, his movements precise, calculated.

Years of training kept his body moving even when his mind teetered on panic.

The soft sound of her footsteps reached his ears as she moved further into the house.

She was talking to herself again, that light, carefree tune that only made him more desperate to get out unnoticed.

She had no idea.

No idea that he had been so close, no idea of the thoughts that ran through his head while he held her soaked panties in his hands.

Joel paused at the back door, his body pressed against the frame as he caught a glimpse of her through the crack in the doorway.

She was still oblivious, setting her bag down, humming softly to herself. She hadn’t noticed anything. Not the disturbance in the air, not the faint scent of him that still lingered in the room.

So innocent. So trusting.

Must be nice.

He watched her for a moment, his eyes darkening as he observed her, standing there in the home she thought was safe.

He could still smell her on him, the faint scent clinging to his mustache, the lingering effect making his pulse quicken once more.

But he couldn’t stay.

Not now.

With one last glance, Joel slipped out of the house, his movements quick and silent.

He disappeared into the shadows just as she turned toward the hallway, completely unaware of how close he had been—how close he still was.

· · ────

Joel slipped into his truck with the stealth of a man used to evading detection, his heart still hammering in his chest as he turned the key in the ignition.

The engine rumbled to life, but his mind was elsewhere. 

The drive home felt longer than usual, each passing second a blur of adrenaline and frustration.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white, his breathing uneven.

He could still smell her, the faint scent lingering on his clothes, on his skin. It was maddening.

He tried to shake it off, tried to ignore the throbbing ache that had been building since he smelled her sweet little cunt, but it wouldn’t go away.

When he finally pulled up to his house, Joel barely remembered the drive at all.

He parked the truck haphazardly, the door slamming shut behind him as he made his way inside.

His boots hit the wooden floor with heavy thuds, and before he knew it, he was leaning back against the wall in his living room, his breath still coming in shallow bursts.

His breath was ragged, the ache in his body refusing to subside.

The scent of her cunt—still clinging to his beard, his hands—seeped into his skin, a constant reminder of what she had stirred deep inside him.

He hadn’t felt like this in years, hadn’t allowed himself to. But now, there was no going back.

His cock throbbed painfully, straining against his jeans, and for the first time in so long, he couldn’t ignore it.

The need was unbearable, clawing at him, demanding release. He leaned back against the wall, chest heaving, every breath filled with the sweetness of her scent.

It was still there, on him, as if she hadn’t left.

His hand hovered over the bulge in his jeans, fingers twitching, as if fighting the urge to touch.

But the memory of her—the feel of her, the scent of her—was overwhelming.

He couldn’t stop now. He didn’t want to.

With a low growl, he gave in, his hand pressing against his cock, the pressure sending a shiver up his spine.

His jaw clenched as he slowly dragged his palm over the length, the throbbing only growing more intense. The sensation was too much, too sharp after years of nothing.

He hadn’t touched himself like this in so long, and the intensity of it almost knocked the breath out of him.

His cock twitched, hard and aching in his hand, the weight of it heavy as he gripped it tighter.

His breath hitched as he finally pulled it free, the cool air hitting his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat that was coursing through his veins. fuck.

He stroked himself slowly at first, his rough palm sliding over the swollen, leaking head, the friction making him groan.

He thought he’d never feel this was again.

His mind was a haze of her—her softness, her innocence, the way she had smiled at him, so trusting, so sweet.

She didn’t know what she was doing to him. She couldn’t know.

But he did.

His pace quickened, each stroke more desperate, more insistent. The scent of her was driving him insane.

Sweet like her.

He licked his lips, trying to get some of that sweet, sweet taste back he had earlier.

His cock throbbed in his hand, hard and slick as he pumped it, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

Her face flashed in his mind again—those wide, innocent eyes, the way she had blushed when she looked at him.

She had no idea.

No idea how badly he wanted her, how much he needed her.

Joel’s grip tightened, his strokes rougher now, his hips jerking up into his hand as he chased that release, the pressure building fast.

His cock was pulsing in his hand, slick and hard, aching with the need for something he couldn’t name.

Something only she could give him.

His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest heaving as he pumped his cock faster, harder.

The tension coiled tight in his gut, every muscle in his body straining as the need for release consumed him.

He could almost taste her, the memory of her scent still filling his lungs, making his head swim.

With a rough, guttural growl, Joel’s body tensed, his vision going white as the tension finally snapped.

His cock jerked in his hand, the release hitting him like a storm, fierce and unforgiving.

He groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking as he spilled over his hand, the warmth spreading through him like fire. He hadn’t cum that much in years.

It wouldn’t stop coming out of him.

…well, this was new.

For a long moment, he stayed there, his breath coming in ragged, heavy gasps, his hand still wrapped around his now-softening cock.

The pleasure ebbed slowly, leaving behind a dark satisfaction that settled deep in his bones.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Because her scent was still there.

Her softness still lingered in his mind, wrapped around him like a shroud, and Joel knew—this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Joel’s mind flickered back to the map, to the spot he’d given her—the spot on his land.

He could see it clear as day, tucked away, isolated, surrounded by woods.

Tomorrow, she’d be out there, alone, completely unaware of what could happen.

His jaw clenched at the thought.

The world was dangerous, filled with things she couldn’t even begin to understand.

But he did.

His pulse quickened, that dark, familiar feeling tightening around his chest.

He’d keep her safe. He’d make sure nothing happened to her—not on his watch.

No one else knew the dangers lurking in the shadows like he did. She had no idea, no clue what she was walking into.

But he’d be there.

Watching.

And if anything—or anyone—tried to hurt her, they’d have to go through him first.

Joel swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. He’d seen too much, lost too much.

But not her. Not this time.

Tomorrow, he’d make sure she was safe… even if she didn’t know it.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

well… somebody needs therapy (me and him both)

I have no tag list for this (I’m old and will probably fail starting one) but if you comment on here I’ll remind you if there’s a new chapter!!

Deal?

xoxo

[joeyb1989]

uh oh, i’m falling in love* - joe burrow

summary: after the end of your toxic relationship, you find yourself falling for your roommate.

word count: 4.1k

pairing: joe burrow x reader

warnings: smut, fluff, minor angst, cussing

a/n: okay. i am so sorry if this is bad yall. i tried my best to fix it, so if it is bad… don’t tell me😍 this might be pure yap. i hope you all enjoy💗

even though this fic takes place in December of last year, Joe is not hurt!

this is part two — part one

3 months later - December 2023

Your eyes slowly opened as sunlight entered the room through your sheer curtains. You never liked mornings in your relationship with Jake. You knew that your morning would start with an argument and your night would end with one. Ever since the breakup, you’ve learned to value your mornings. They now bring calm, peace, and tranquility to your day. 

You sat up in your bed, stretching your limbs as the smell of coffee brewing downstairs put a small smile on your face. “Why does he have to be so sweet?” you whispered to yourself, a content sigh escaping your lips.

After your daily routine of skincare, brushing your teeth, applying a small amount of makeup, and getting dressed, you started down the stairs of your and Joe’s shared home.

“Morning, Y/n,” Joe smiled once he was aware of your presence. His appearance almost made you choke on the saliva in your mouth. He was standing in the kitchen flipping the pancakes he was cooking while shirtless. You’ve seen Joe shirtless before, but his body will always amaze you. It looked like it took people years to craft him from gold. Your eyes slid down his body, seeing his Seinfeld sweatpants hanging deliciously low on his waist. Your gaze fixed on his golden treasure tail, smirking to yourself knowing what it led to.

“Good morning Joe,” you smiled, walking over to him, “Pancakes look good. You’ve really improved since the first time you made them.”

Flashback to your first morning in the house

“There you are. I was beginning to think that you were gonna stay in the shower forever,” Joe said as you walked into the kitchen freshly out of the shower, with a small limp in your step.

“I’ll have you know that the warm water helped my… sore muscles,” you retorted, growing embarrassed at the thought of the night before.

“From moving all your stuff in?” Joe smirked, taking a drink of his orange juice, knowing the real answer.

“Don’t even,” you giggled, your lips smiling when Joe handed you a cup of coffee after you sat down at a barstool.

“I made you some coffee, I hope you like it,” Joe scratched the back of his neck as you took a sip, “If you don’t I can make you another. I just wanted to be nice and-”

“Joe,” you took one of his hands in yours, “It’s perfect. Thank you. What is this? Pumpkin spice?”

“Yeah, I remember in high school when you would bring a pumpkin chai into Calculus class every day during the fall,” Joe sheepishly smiled, “So I figured you would like this.”

“Can you even blame me, though? Drink this,” you said as you handed the coffee cup back to him to take a sip.

Even though he hesitated at first, he took a sip from the coffee mug, nodding his head in contentment. “Damn, I can make a pretty sick cup of coffee,” Joe boasted

“Dare I say: better than Starbucks,” you giggled, “You know if football doesn't work out for you, maybe you should become a barista.”

“Thank you though, seriously,” you smiled, suddenly aware that you were still holding on to one of his hands.

“Anything for you,” repeating his words from the bar last week, subconsciously leaning in towards one another. The smell that went up your nose made you stop your actions, “Is something… burning?” you asked

“What?” Joe asked, still close to your face from how fogged his brain was.

“Do you not smell that?” you asked as you saw his eyes go wide when the realization hit him.

“Shit!” Joe said as he looked over at the burnt and smoking pancakes. He turned off the stove as endless giggles and laughs escaped your lips. Even though he was upset with himself that he let the pancakes he was making for you burn, your laugh made his frown turn into a smile.

There was no doubt about it, he was falling in love with you.

End of flashback

“Oh my god, that was so funny,” you laughed thinking about the memory.

“Yeah, was it funny when you had to fix us breakfast because you were scared I was gonna burn down the house?” Joe chuckled, handing you the vanilla coffee he prepared for you.

“You still helped though,” you smiled, taking a sip of the warm drink

“You’re a better cook than me anyway,” Joe said

“Well, by the looks of it, you’re becoming quite a good chef, Burrow,” you teased, looking at the strawberry pancakes, your absolute fav, that he was placing onto two plates.

“Learned from the best,” Joe poked your nose before it voluntarily scrunched up from the contact.

As you two ate breakfast together, you two talked about each other’s plans for the day. Joe was going to go to practice and watch film later in the day. Your plans were to go to work, work-out, and go to the grocery store before you come home.

A part of you wanted to stay with Joe all day. You just wanted to watch movies or shows with him all day while he made random comments. You wanted to hear his giggles and the jokes he would make. You were honestly doing anythingWas this a typical thought that someone would have for a friend? 

Later that day

After everything on your agenda for the day was done, you were sitting in the living room watching a random episode of Friends when Joe strutted into the house. His loose-hip walk making your thoughts run wild.

“Hey, Y/n,” Joe smiled as he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, before plopping onto the couch next to you.

“Hey, Joe,” you smiled back, “You want some popcorn?”

“Sure,” Joe grinned, taking a handful of the snack, “We haven't seen this episode together before, have we?”

“Mm.mm,” you shook your head, “This is in season five, I think we’re at the end of season three. I have this episode on because it’s just my favorite episode of the series.” After moving in together, Joe insisted that you two should have “roomie bonding time.” Which consisted of two nights a week where one of you would pick a show or movie to watch to watch for a couple hours. You always opted for Friends or Love Island. You never expected Joe to get so invested in either, but the man will shock you sometimes.

“What makes it your favorite?” Joe questioned, taking a drink of his water. His prominent Adam's apple bobbing, making it hard to focus on anything else.

“Uh- it- um… it’s hard to explain without spoiling anything for you. Let’s just say that a certain two characters hooked up, began secretly dating, and everyone finds out about it this episode.”

“First part sounds familiar,” Joe smirked, thinking back to their first night living together.

“I wish it was all familiar,” you thought, thinking of the love the two characters on the show shared.

That’s when it hit you. You were in love with Joe Burrow. You had been ever since that day in the bar, when Joe showed you how you deserved to be treated. You have been every day since then. Did he still feel the same? Did the night you two shared mean the same to him as it did to you? They always say being in love feels like warmth, like a fire that has been built for you. You definitely felt like that with Joe, but you doubt he felt like that with you.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously, not really sure how to reply to that.

“I still can’t believe that we…” Joe trailed off, rubbing his sweaty palms on his shorts.

“Had sex?” you bluntly said.

“Yeah,” Joe chuckled, his eyes widening at the memories.

Flashback to the night you moved in

“Awkward,” Joe joked as the movie you two were watching showed a particularly spicy sex scene between two characters.

After unpacking all your stuff, Joe insisted that he would make you dinner for your first night there. Even though he apologized many times that it might not be the best, you swore that he could be chef if the whole football thing fell through. He fixed chicken and pasta, paired with some veggies, with some wine to help you both relax after a long and tiring day. Both of you were definitely a little tipsy now that most of the bottle was empty, making your words a little more bold than they usually would be.

“I feel like I’ve been sex-deprived for a million years,” you drunkenly sighed, taking another drink of your wine.

“What do you mean,” Joe giggled, being caught off-guard.

“It- it doesn't matter,” you muttered, sulking to yourself.

“Tell me,” Joe replied, scooting closer to you.

You hesitated for a moment. Did you really want to unload all your problems on him? You know what, fuck it. This man’s heard worse from you. “I haven't had sex in almost two years. Jake said that I didn't deserve to feel good because I wasn't sexy enough or something. He would make me get him off, though,” you sighed, trying your best not to meet Joe’s eyes.

“That’s fucking bullshit. If you could see yourself in my eyes…” Joe trailed off, rubbing a hand down his face. How could someone think that you didn't deserve to feel good? You were the most incredible looking girl he had ever seen.

“What? Do you… think I’m sexy?” you asked, finally meeting his gaze. Taking note of how darker his eye color had gotten.

“Oh, the sexiest,” Joe said, leaning in even more. He was so close you could feel his breath on your face. “If you were mine, I would make you feel good every day of the week, baby girl.”

Your breath hitched as you felt his hand graze your waist as your gaze flicked down to his soft lips. “I wanna kiss you so bad,” you blurted.

“There’s nothing stopping you,” Joe voiced, leaning in and capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. His lips were so soft and fit to yours like two missing puzzle pieces. His hands pulled you into his lap as your tongues entwined with each other. “Y/n,” he groaned as you started grinding your crotch on his. Joe stood up, with you still in his arms, and strided for his bedroom.

Joe sat you down gently on his bed before he went back to kissing you. His lips trailed down your lips to your neck as he began searching for your sweet spot. Your hands tangled themselves with his hair, pulling him closer to you. “Fuck, Joey,” you moaned, embarrassingly loud when he found it. “Feel good?” Joe smirked.

“Mhm,” you whimpered. His hands went under your shirt, prompting you to lift your arms to let him pull it off. You were left in just your red lace bra, which made Joe go crazy.  “This is okay, right?” Joe asked, reaching behind you to touch the clasp of your bra.  You nodded your head in agreement, “Yeah,” you smiled up at him. His kind gesture made you feel so comfortable and safe.

He unclasped your bra and you felt suddenly insecure when his gaze fell on your breasts. As your arms went to cover them up, he pulled them away. You laid down on the bed, as he crawled over top of you. “You are… literally perfect, Y/n,” Joe smiled, kissing each breast. “No reason to hide when you’re the most gorgeous girl on this planet… or any planet, for that matter,” Joe cooed, alluding to his words from a couple of weeks ago.  He kissed down your jaw and neck, before peppering kisses to the valley between your breasts.

“Joe,” you whimpered as his tongue swirled around your nipple. Your hands went under his shirt and rubbed his soft skin. You watched as he detached from your boob, whipping his shirt off. He reached his hand down and pulled down your shorts, leaving you in nothing but your panties – which matched your bra.

He trailed his fingers down to your core, his eyes widening at how wet you were. “Damn, baby,” Joe smirked, his digits teasing your clothed entrance. “This wet and I’ve barely touched you.” Your body sizzled with anticipation as you watched Joe kiss down your belly until he reached your core. “Eyes on me, mamas,” Joe growled. You looked down just in time to see him drag the red lace down with his teeth. 

Fuck was that hot.

He licked a stripe up your folds, earning a whimper from you. Joe set a veiny hand on your thigh, keeping your legs open, as he slid his tongue inside you. Joe moaned against you when you threaded your fingers into his hair, grinding against his face.

Several minutes later, you felt the pressure in your belly building up, signaling that your release was close. “Joe,” you whimpered, “I- I’m-”

“Shh, I know, I’m here,” Joe smiled, adding a finger into you as his skilled mouth attached to your clit. You could've sworn that you were seeing stars. “Just let yourself feel good.”

“Mmm, Joe,” you moaned when he added another finger, extremely loud but you didn't seem to care because you felt so good. No other guy has ever made you feel this good. Physically or mentally. Joe was physically making you feel good with his fingers and mouth, but he was mentally making you feel good with his soft praise, comforting actions, and the way he was worshiping you. As your orgasm was getting closer and closer, you suddenly felt a gush of wetness down below you, followed by several moans from Joe.

“Oh my god-” you shrieked when the realization hit you. “Joe, I’m so sorry-”

“For what?” Joe interrupted, coming out from between your thighs, looking like a kid in a candy store. Your juices covered his mouth and chin, and a smirk danced across his lips. “Squirting?” he asked, wiping his chin with his fingers before bringing them up to his mouth to clean them off.

“I just… I don’t know,” you whispered, your cheeks turning beet red from embarrassment.

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. That was fucking hot,” Joe grinned. He leaned over top of you, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. “Taste yourself? You taste good, don't you?”

“Joe, I need you,” you whimpered, already ready for my action despite your intense high just a few moments ago.

“Whatever you need, baby,” Joe whispered into your ear before shoving his shorts and undies off. He gave himself a few pumps as he looked deeply into your eyes. “If I’m too rough, if you want me to stop, do something different, or anything, don’t hesitate to tell me. You’re safe with me.”

“You’re so…” you trailed off, looking at his cock. Guess they don’t call him “Big Dick Joe” for nothing.

“Yeah,” Joe chuckled, lining his tip up with your entrance, “but I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered as he pushed a couple inches into you, stopping when he noticed discomfort on your face. “Don’t stop,” you said when he did. Even though there was discomfort at first, it was quickly replaced by pleasure.

You both moaned out once he was fully settled. “You can move,” you reassured him before he set a slow pace, but quickly sped up when he got lost in the feel of you.

“You feel so good, Y/n,” Joe groaned, cupping the back of your leg and placing it on his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper. You felt like you were floating, but you needed more. “Joe,” you panted, “Fuck me- fuck me harder.” Joe’s eyes widened at your words, “Are- are you sure?”

“Fuck yes,” you whimpered as his relentless pace sped up even more. The tip of his cock was ramming into your cervix with each thrust.

A few minutes later, you felt yourself on the blink of release for the second time tonight. Joe knew you were close as your walls were rhythmically squeezing him. “Jesus,” Joe groaned, feeling him close to his own release, but tonight was about you. He needed you to feel good, so he, somehow, picked up the pace of his thrusts even more, sending you straight to heaven.

“Fuck, I’m- cumming,” you moaned as you felt the pressure in your belly build up once again. 

“Shit, Y/n,” Joe groaned, as he too was close.

“Joe!” you screamed as your high washed over you. Joe continued to fuck you through your orgasm, wanting you to feel good for as long as you could. Soon, you felt ropes of Joe’s hot cum seep into you, followed by his own moans of pleasure.

“Are- are you good?” Joe panted. You nodded, the euphoric high making you glow. Joe laid his head on your chest as the two of you tried to: one, catch your breaths, and two, wrap your minds around what had just happened.

A few moments later, Joe unwrapped himself from around you and headed into his bathroom, coming back a few minutes later with a towel to clean you up. He was extra gentle with you since he knew that you would be awfully sore.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him as he threw the towel in the hamper. He crawled back into bed next to you before pulling you into him and kissing the crown of your head. “No need to thank me, it’s what you deserve.”

“I cannot believe-” you said

“Shh, we’ll talk about it in the morning,” Joe promised

“Goodnight, Joe,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his soft skin

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Joe smiled back, pulling you even closer to him.

End of flashback

“It was crazy hot, though,” Joe smirked, his gaze flickering down to your lips but he stopped himself when he remembered the talk you had the next morning.

Flashback to the morning after

“Goodmorning,” a raspy voice above you called as you opened your eyes.

“Morning, Joe,” you smiled, kissing his cheek, smiling even more when you noticed his flushed cheeks.

“Are you sore?” Joe asked, softly rubbing your back. His kindness, raging bedhead, and morning voice made you want to pounce on him.

“Yeah,” you winced, stretching, “I’ll be alright, though.”

“Well… let me just hold you for a bit, then I’ll make breakfast while you shower,” Joe smiled, which turned into a straight line when he remembered that you weren't his. “Unless… you don’t want to.”

“No, that sounds perfect,” you reassured, moving back into his arms. A few minutes of silence go by before you speak up. “Joe?”

“Hm,” Joe hummed, the thoughts in his head running wild. He was crazy about you, but you had been through so much lately.

“What does this mean for us?” you questioned, staring into his loving, blue eyes.

“You tell me,” Joe said, “I know what you’ve been through. I’ll wait for you.”

“Joe… I really like you. Like I really really like you,” you chuckled, “I just… need some time.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Joe repeated, “for as long as you need.”

“Joe, you don’t need to do that. Go out and live your life. If we’re meant to be, we’ll be when we’re both ready,” you soothed.

End of flashback

Joe did wait though. He’s been on one date in the last three months… one that he typically doesn't like to remember. Him and his date was back at her apartment and they were… getting down to business when he moaned your name. He couldn't get you out of his head. His date even looked like you; even if she wasn't you. She had your hair color, eye color, body build, but she wasn't you.

You, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about Joe either, but you were scared. Even though it's been three months, you feel like you’ll be getting over Jake your whole life. Your relationship with him was horrible, no doubt, but you loved him. Every time you’re with Joe, however, he makes that feeling go away. He heals that part of you without even meaning to. He makes your entire world go quiet.

It scares you how he makes you feel, it scares you for how fast you fell for him, it scares you that he doesn't even try to make you feel this way. You’ve always said that if you fall fast, then it can’t last. “Maybe I should give it a try,” you thought, looking at Joe’s smile as he watched the show.

One week later - Christmas Day in Athens, OH

“What are we doing here?” you asked, taking in the playground in front of you. The playground where you and Joe used to play as kids.

“Just… taking a trip down memory lane,” Joe smiled, guiding you to the swings by the small of your back.

After a long day in Joe’s childhood home with both sets of your parents, Joe insisted that he would take you somewhere before going home. “Here, let me push you,” Joe smiled. Endless giggles fell from your lips as you swung in the air.

“Okay, okay, stop,” you giggled after a minute. Joe grabbed your waist, slowing down the swing before stepping in front of you. “You’re so beautiful,” Joe smiled, looking down at you. The December moonlight casted on you, highlighting all of your features.

“Joe,” you spoke softly as you stood up and cupped his cold cheeks. “I love you. I love you so much, Joe. The way you treat me, the way you’re always there for me, the way you care for me. It used to scare me, but I realized you're it for me. And I’m sorry if I just made anything weird but I just had to tell you-”

Joe cut you off by smashing his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet, but also full of passion. It said so many words with just one action. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that to me. God, I love you so much, Y/n. That’s why I brought you here, I wanted to talk about us. Because I’m yours, Y/n. I’ve been yours since that night in the bar. I bought you this, by the way.”

Joe’s hand went into his pocket and dug out a black, rectangular box. He opened it to reveal a necklace, the necklace. You were the girl.

Flashback to the other day

“Okay, we’ve gotten everything for your parents, my parents, and each of our siblings,” Joe said, reading the list, “I’ve just gotta get this one thing.”

You and Joe were in the mall together, trying to go some last minute Christmas shopping. “What thing?” you asked.

“I wanna impress this girl, and I figured you would know what she would like,” Joe smiled, leading you into the jewelry store. Your heart dropped at Joe’s words, but why? You weren't his. You told him to live his life. 

End of flashback

You helped him pick out the necklace exactly how you would like it, without knowing it was for you. The only difference now was your initial on the necklace.

“You don’t need to impress me,” you smiled, as he put the silver necklace on you. “You do that enough by just existing.”

“I love you, you’re seriously the sweetest girl I’ve met in my life. You’re selfless, beautiful, incredibly sexy, compassionate, and caring. And that’s just a tiny percent of why I love you,” Joe beamed.

“I love you so much,” you smiled. “You are so hardworking, handsome, caring, a little bit of a dork… but you’re my dork.”

“I love you a million,” Joe grinned, pressing sweet kisses all over your face.

“I love you a billion,” you giggled.

“Let’s go home and get into some trouble, baby,” Joe teased, leading you back to the car.

“Okayyyy,” you laughed, but stopped dead in your tracks, “Wait. Does this make me your girlfriend?”

“Sure does, sweetheart,” Joe smiled

“Oh my god, you’re my boyfriend,” you gasped, “I wouldn't want it any other way though.”

“Me either,” Joe kissed you once again before opening the door for you and driving home.

For the first time, the two of you would be going home as a couple. You took a leap of faith to not let your anxiety control your relationship, and you’ve never been happier that you did.

You thought the plane was going down, but Joe somehow turned it all around.

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Country Honey

 ♡ featuring: ranchhand!toji x richgirl!reader

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

 ♡ wc: 16.5k+ (AHHHHHH)

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

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

“Almost there.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You could die right now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Chop* 

You clutch the side of the parted door. 

*Chop* 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pompous ass instigatin’ little-” 

“-Callous disrespectful pig!” 

“-Brat.”  

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit” you mumble.  

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

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

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

“Yea, nobody you know.” 

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

“Jerk.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slip. Crash! 

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

Brown. It’s on your face.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

That shit-eating grin. 

“No need to thank me, miss piggy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, and did I mention very annoying? 

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

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

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

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

“HEY!”  

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

“This is my bathroom you idiot!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get yer feet off the wheel.” 

“Mm, nah. It’s not hurting anyone.” 

“’S hurting me.” 

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

“What did I-” 

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

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

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

“Sorry.” 

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

“What are you doing?” 

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

Your ears perk up, “She?” 

“Yup.” 

“Does she have a name?” 

“Nope.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe Rosy? Oh, or Susie.” 

“Think I’ll just call ‘er (Y/N).” 

“Huh? Why my name?” 

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

“Why not an A?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

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

“…What?”  

“Oh. Uh, nothing.” 

He returns to what he was doing.  

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

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

“Yeah.” 

“So…did he figure it out?” 

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

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

“Can’t. Hands full.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not important” he responds curt. 

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

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

“…like someone cut you” you mutter. 

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

“I-“  

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

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

The space between you widens with each step. 

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

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

“Thank you for the tea.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Everythin’ alright, sugar?” 

“Think I messed up.” 

“Hm? How so?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“...” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know where he is?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of horse is it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup, since I got to the farm.” 

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

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

“It would be if I never finished school.” 

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

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

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

“Forget it-” 

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

“I want to help people.”   

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant.” 

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

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

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

“My bad.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you scared now?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya have no sense of danger.” 

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

“...I'm glad.” 

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

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

“Ouch.”  

“Careful, hun.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Should I write one for you, too?” 

“You can jus’ tell me now” she beams. 

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

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

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

“Wanna go for a ride?” he calls. 

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

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

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

He holds his hand out, “Up.” 

“To where?” 

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

“Might wanna hold on.”  

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

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

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

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

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

“How come?” 

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

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

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

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

“It looks cute on me.” 

“So what?” 

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

“I think you’re a brat.”  

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

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

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

“The feeling’s mutual” you retort. 

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

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

 scoops and sets you down.  

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

“I guess this is it.” 

“Yup” he agrees. 

“Try not to miss me too much.”  

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

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

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

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

“Heh. Yes, ma’am.” 

“So…um.” 

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

“Y-yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

“Like I wanna look at you.” 

“I wouldn’t mind if ya did.” 

“God, you’re so far up your own-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna do so much worse.” 

“Then do it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you’re not doing good enough.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you cry. 

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

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

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

“Y’know just how to get me.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s” 

“Pussy” 

“Is this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna sleep” he grumbles. 

“Then you should’ve let me leave” 

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

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

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

© mooishbeam - please don't steal, copy, or post my work to other platforms :)

[wordsarelife]

—mine

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: your’s and theo's relationship throughout the years

warnings: canon typical violence near the end, mentions of the war, blood and death

note: feel free to request stuff for the christmas calender!!

theo was startled by a sudden voice who called out his name, he turned around, the book he was about to push into the empty space still in his hand. 

"nott" you had muttered, arms crossed and the surprised expression on his face when he turned around had almost made you lose it. you quirked a brow at the missing reaction. "i guess you don't even know my name?" 

"sorry" theo winced and you could see how umcomfortable he was simply because he knew nothing about the person standing in front of him. 

"don't feel too bad" you shrugged. "didn't know yours until you borrowed my favorite book for four weeks and i had to beg madam pince to tell me the name of the person who had it" 

"well, sorry again" theo held the book in your direction. "you can have it now, if you still want it" 

you completely ignored the book, until theo sighed and put it back in the empty space on the shelf where it belonged. "guess not" he muttered to himself. 

"so, tell me, theodore nott" you followed him back to the table with his things. "what tempts a guy like you to borrow a book like that?" 

"well, without meaning to insult you, i'd say it is more male literature than female isn't it?"

"you're a moron if you really think something like female or male literature exists" you sat down in the chair across from him. "i wouldn't declare sherlock holmes as male literature, more preciously i would say that most boys are too daft to even understand half the things arthur conan doyle mentions and to your information i'm taking great insult to whatever the hell you just said"

"geez" theo's eyes had widened, he found you a bit odd, annoying even, but he couldn't help but feel all the same intrigued. "like what you just said isn't an insult. most boys are too daft, huh?" 

"maybe daft is a bit too harsh, i admit that" you rolled your eyes, a smile on your lips, "but i'd say most are too impatient to read those books, yes"

"well, you're not wrong about that" theo nodded "i can't remember the last time one of my friends touched a book that wasn't part of a class" 

"that's quiet sad, i'd say"

"i agree" theo smiled. "so, now that we're on the same page, do you mind telling me your name? i feel like i deserve to know it"

"no" you grinned just as the smile vanished from his face. "i decide when you deserve to know, theodore nott" you left him sitting there, speechless about the sudden rejection. 

you never actually told theo your name. he only found out when you managed to borrow the memoirs of sherlock holmes for two months straight. 

the next time that the two of you talked was a few months later, at the beginning of december. snow had fallen and the hogwarts grounds had turned into a beautiful white landscape. 

the snow was poudry, but you managed not to slip as you made your way through it. your body tightly wrapped in layers of clothing, the thick ravenclaw scarf almost reaching up to your eyes as the falling snow hit your face. 

"not the right weather for a stroll, is it?" theodore nott had caught up to you, not exactly spotting the right outfit for the wuthering cold. 

"well, i know there's a reason you're a slytherin and not a ravenclaw, but i would've expected you to be just a little smarter, nott" 

theo looked down on his clothes just as you did. "i was actually just going for a smoke"

"in the middle of a mild snowstorm?" you quirked a brow. "i'd say it's not the right weather to be doing that either"

"you're a real know-it-all" 

"tell me something new, nott" you rolled your eyes "it's exhausting to always be right, you know?"

"i bet it is" theo shrugged sarcastically. "there had to have been a reason you got sorted into ravenclaw"

"well, as said before, i can see why you weren't" you shrugged with a grin. 

theo sighed. "another dig at the outfit, really?" 

"well, considering you're standing here discussing with me and getting yourself wet, i'd say i'm allowed to keep judging your outfit" 

"fair point" theo nodded and you were surprised he gave up so easily. "are you coming or what?" he asked, ready to walk back inside.

"no" you shook your head "you go ahead though, wouldn't want you catching a cold, who would faint during potions then and entertain the rest of the class?"

"hey, that was one time" he called, as you walked away "how did you even hear about that, we're not in the same potions class?"

you just shrugged and send him a smile over your shoulder. he was standing in front of the doors to the castle, soaked from head to toe and you had to admit, theodore nott was a (beautiful) sight for sore eyes. 

it wasn't like you minded theo's company, but you noticed how he started hanging around the places you frequently visited during the weeks to come. 

theo had it especially easy when he realized that you stuck to your routines during the week, making it impossible for him to miss you once he had figured it out. 

monday and wednesdays after class were spent in the library, doing homework or reading a book from your list. tuesdays you helped madam pomfrey in the infirmary, healing minor injuries or filling up medicine cabinets. thursdays were reserved for your friends, playing card games or just spending time together in the common room, you always found something to do. 

fridays were flexible and you often decided what to do spontaneously. sometimes you did a little tutoring, on other fridays you helped madam pince sort through books and put them back where they belonged or you continued reading the book you had begun reading that week. saturdays and sundays were for remaining homework, hogsmeade visits and drafting letters to send back to your family on the start of the next week. 

"you're not being slick, you know that?"

it was a friday and you were putting away books, when theo kept lingering around you, like he had done that past week. 

"what?" he asked, looking up from the book in front of him, a confused tone to his voice, clearly trying to mask that he knew exactly what you were talking about.

"well, i was sure you knew stalking was considered a legal offence" you noted.

"stalking?" he repeated. "i'm not stalking you"

"now, you're not not stalking me, are you?" you send a tight-lipped smile in his direction. "i do admit that it might be a question of definition, though" 

"aren't you a bit full of yourself if you think i would be stalking you"

"that was offensive" you rolled your eyes "and i'm pretty sure i'm not imaging you turning up everywhere i went this past week. and considering i didn't know you until a few months ago, i'd say that you only started doing that recently"

"well, i didn't"

"okay, you didn't" your shrugged and turned back to the shelf, reaching for another row of books from the trolley beside you, before you pushed them in a row one after the other. 

theo furrowed his brows, surprised by you just letting him get away like that. he knew he wasn't being slick, hell, he even knew that he was behaving like a stalker. you weren't wrong in the slightest and theo felt a bit called out by your words. but on the other hand, you hadn't said anything about being opposed to the idea that he really did go everywhere you did.

you waved at him, before you pushed the trolley into the next row of shelves. it didn't take long for him to follow, already making a decision in his mind. 

"go out with me" 

if he had startled you, you didn't show it. you didn't even blink at his suggestion, rather ignoring him like he was a fly on the wall, as you continued reaching for books on the trolley.

theo pushed the trolley to the side and stepped into the empty space. the next time you tried to reach for a stack of books, you touched his chest instead. 

"you're still here, nott" you noted the obvious. 

theo had to admit that he was a tad bit unsettled by your ignorance. he wasn't sure if you really hadn't heard him or if you just ignored the question, because he had made you uncomfortable. 

"you know, normally stalkers don't look so scared" you smiled mischievously. 

"i'm not stalking you, but i can understand if my company made you uncomfortable and i apologize if i have gone too far"

"you're a bit weird, you know that?"

"this is a serious topic, y/n" 

you smiled at the honesty in his voice and sighed. "do you really think if you were making me uncomfortable or i was scared of you i would continue to speak to you?" 

"well, no—"

"i'm not a child, theodore nott, i can voice when i'm annoyed, but i respect your manners" you smiled "and if anyone follows me around like a lost puppy, i'm glad it's someone with at least a little intellect"

"little intellect?" theo repeated offended. 

"you might be smarter than i thought, but you're really bad at this" 

"i know" 

"well, would you now let me sort in the rest of these books? you're kind of in the way"

theo, nodded, the disappointment flashing over his features just like a wave of water. "i guess that's a no" 

you waited until he had stepped aside and pushed the trolley back in it's original position. your hands reached for the row of sherlock holmes books and you held them up at him like a trophy. "that means yes, obviously" 

theo spent exactly three days brainstroming what to do for your date. his friends tried their best at helping him, more than interested to finally hear something about the mysterious girl theo had been infuriated with these past weeks. 

"is she that hideous?" blaise asked on the third day of theo's hard thinking.

"what?" theo raised his brows, he had been too deep in thought to even hear his friend.

"blaise just asked if your girlfriend was hideous, i'd hit him if i were you" mattheo shrugged, stiring the pot. it had been a particular slow morning and he had to admit that it would be quiet entertaining to see blaise and theo fight each other. 

"five galleons on blaise" enzo added, before theo was able to say something. 

"have a little faith in him" pansy said next to theo. "he might not look like it, but the boy has a wicked right hook"

"this is just embarrassing" draco threw the newspaper down in front of him. 

"what?" pansy giggled "the newspaper or that theo and blaise are going to slap each other even more stupid"

"take a guess"

"guys" theo sighed, annoyance already taking over the worry that was bubbling inside him. "i'm not going to fight blaise and y/n is not my girlfriend"

"no yet" enzo wiggled his brows.

"y/n, huh?" mattheo said with a mischievous smile.

"oh god" all colour drained from theo's face. "please tell me the two of you didn't hook up with each other"

"close to it" mattheo shrugged. "she tended to my wounds in the infirmary once and i could tell she had the hots for me"

"wasn't she the one who said you had the charm of a troll and the brains to match?" blaise offered with a smirk.

enzo's mouth almost hit the table infront of him by how fast it flew open. "that was y/n?" he giggled.

theo had to smile. "that does sound like something she'd say"

"she sounds lovely" draco nodded sarcastically "but at least she never saw mattheo naked. that does make her at least a little likable"

"i already love her" pansy quickly said, before draco could continue his judging. "seems like she knows how to handle little annoyances" 

"i'm not a little annoyance"

"yeah" theo nodded "you're a quite big one, actually" 

theo couldn't tell what had led him to the idea for your date, but he had known in that moment what the both of you should do. 

"so hot chocolate was your huge idea?" you smiled as you sat down in the booth across from him, the server already putting down two mugs with steaming hot drinks in front of you. 

"i saw how your friends gave you their hot chocolate packages after dinner and figured this might be something you liked" he shrugged "and before you call me a stalker again, i'm just very attentive to those around me"

you giggled as the grandma at the table next to you send you a worried glance at theo's words.

"he's harmless" you laughed in a way to assure her. 

theo managed an awkward wave and the woman turned away quickly.

"well, it seems those around you are very attentive too" you giggled. 

"i'm sorry" theo tried to hide behind his mug, feeling a tad bit ashamed at the awkward encounter, but having to laugh at the same time. 

"don't be" you smiled honestly "rather tell me something i didn't already find out by snooping around"

"you snooped around?" theo exclaimed surprised. 

"i had to get even, after you found out everything about me" you shrugged "i met this lovely boy, i think he goes by the name enzo, who told me a whole lot about you"

"oh god, no" 

"quite interesting to hear about all those things from someone who has no interest in sleeping with me"

"what? i don't—“

"so you don't intend to sleep with me?" you smiled. "don't be ridiculous, theodore nott"

"i'm just not used to being this straightforward, admittedly"

you completely ignored the surprise swinging in his voice and went on with your story. "enzo did give me some exciting information and i wanted to talk about one thing in particular"

theo was ready to close his eyes and open them back up after you had screamed and left him sitting alone at the table. he had to admit that he wasn't particularly proud of his dating history (or lack of) before he met you and he was sure you weren't happy about that either. 

"before you say something" he interrupted you, before you were able to let the words slip past your lips. "i'm not like that anymore, i was young and not interested in a relationship and just wanted a bit of fun—"

"what are you talking about exactly?" you asked, a susprised smile on your face. 

"that wasn't what you wanted to talk about, was it?" theo asked and you shook your head giggling. 

"i mean, don't let me tell you what to talk about" you managed to say between your laughter. "we can talk about your previous hookups if that's something you'd like to discuss"

"i'd rather not" theo shook his head and his cheeks turned rosy. 

"fine" you smiled "now back to my question: how did you manage to play out that prank on professor binns in our third year?"

theo's features relaxed at the simple question and he smiled, recalling the memory. "so it all started with a ridiculous idea from mattheo and me getting roped into something stupid again"

you spent the rest of the night talking and ordering one hot chocolate after the other. there was not one second of awkward silence, even as theo brought you back to your common room. 

"i had a lot of fun tonight" theo smiled, hands sinking into the pockets of his trousers. 

you had admired how well dressed he was when he had come to get you in the afternoon. 

"me too" you said honestly. "i can't wait for the next one"

"so there will be a next one?" 

"don't be ridiculous, theodore nott" you smiled, before telling the password to the eagle ontop of the door. "of course there will a next one" you slipped into the common room and away from the smiling boy in front of it. 

"are they weirder than you?" 

the voice startled theo, as he was standing in front of the shelf in the library. he turned around, not surprised that it was you who had asked that question. you mostly started your conversations in the middle, without so much as a hello or some kind of warning. 

"what?" theo wasn't sure what else to ask.

"you friends of course" you shrugged, like that had been obvious "we've been together for a month and i've never even met them" 

"well, you have met them" theo corrected. "like in the hallways or during dinner" 

"you know what i mean, theodore" you rolled your eyes. "i don't think a grunting sound could be classified as me meeting someone"

"that's just blaise, honestly" theo muttered "but pansy waved to you during dinner more than three times now"

"theo" you pushed "either something is completely wrong with them or me and i'd like to know what it is, now" you sighed, before you added "just say if you're ashamed of me or something, i know i can be a bit rude to people i don't know"

"tesoro" theo sighed "i'm sorry that i let you think that. they're just annoying, that's all"

"and you thought they would scare me away?" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your hands. "you stalked me for weeks and i'm still dating you, aren't i?"

"that's never gonna be funny" he called after you, as you walked out of the library. "fine, breakfast at the slytherin table for you tomorrow" 

"aye, aye" 

"she's not hideous" was the first thing you heard when you sat down at the table the next morning. 

"well, you aren't either, zabini" you smiled, not even fazed by his assumption. "even though theo warned me about you" 

"burn!" enzo called, exchanging a high five with pansy. 

"i'm so glad we finally get to meet" pansy smiled. "i've just been waiting to have another girl around, it sometimes gets to much with all the testosterone"

"i don't know how you manage, honestly" you smiled.

to say theo's friends and you hit it off immediately would be an understatement. it took approximately ten minutes for you to become part of the group. enzo and you had been friends before, unlikely study partners, after you had helped him on a potions assignment once. pansy was ready to keep you by her side for the rest of the year and even blaise took a quick liking to you.

mattheo and draco were harder to break. mattheo, still having a pretty hurt ego about you turning him down the year before, was sure that you were just dating theo to get back at him for whatever reason and draco was just not interested to have any relationship past a simple hello and goodbye. 

you didn't mind their antics, even if theo repeatedly apologized for it. 

yours and theo’s relationship lasted for exactly two years. theo broke up with you one day after your anniversary.

the break up was painful, the fight that followed even more and still, you held him that evening, both of you understanding the severity of your situation and the war that was waiting to happen.

“theo” you cried, rushing through the ruins of the courtyard just months later. 

you had been on different sides after all. you had followed harry potter into the war and theo had been bound to his father and to the promise the man had given to the dark lord. just like draco, mattheo, pansy, blaise and enzo. 

your friends had gotten lost in the fight and despite not being supposed to, you were desperately screaming for them. 

you ran back into the castle, not having found theo outside. you send curses at the death eaters that tried approaching you, having more luck than an actual plan. you were simply determined to find him. 

you were thrown down to the ground as the doors of the room of requirement suddenly appeared and flew open. just as quickly as they had opened, they closed again, spitting out people in the procress, before the fire was tamed behind the doors. 

harry potter, hermione granger and ron weasley were standing up from the ground slowly, black powder darkening their cheeks and clothes. 

it took a moment for you to realize who the other two people were, as you quickly got up from the ground. 

draco was breathing just as heavily as blaise was, both trying to fill their lungs with air. 

“oh god” you mumbled, before you finally started moving, your legs guiding you into the direction of your friends, falling into their arms and pressing them close to you. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” you cried. 

blaise and draco held onto you just as tight, not being able to let you go as they cried into your hair.

“be honest, draco” you said when you broke the hug, completely ignoring the trio next to you. 

“theo” draco muttered, knowing what you were talking about immediately. blaise and him exchanged a look. 

“is he dead?” you asked, heartbreak already burning in your limbs and throat. you were ready to mourn, ready to lose your life just like him. he had died for the wrong cause, but you hoped, heart heavy in your chest, that death was more forgiving than his life had been. 

“we don’t know” blaise finally said. “we got seperated in the halls, theo—he was looking for you i think”

“i have to find him” you muttered, touching each hand of the boys in front of you. “stay safe” you kissed both of their cheeks, before you turned on your heel, running down the corridor opposite of where you had come from. 

“theo!” you called once more, running up the stairs and through various hallways, hopeless to ever receive an answer.

“y/n” a voice called and you almost crumbled from the surprise it reached you with. hope was hard to keep and you had thought, really thought, that he was dead. 

theo wasn’t dead, but close to it. he was laying on the ground, his back against the wall, while the rest of his body was bathing in his own blood. his cheeks were empty of any colour, lips dry and almost blue as he looked up at you with tired eyes. 

“oh god” you muttered in shock, slipping onto the ground beside him, your uniform soaking up the blood like it was water in the lake. your hands touched his chest and the big glass shard that was stuck inside of it. theo hissed in pain. “sorry, sorry” you whispered. 

“they surprised me as i came down the corridor” he explained. “i was looking for you”

“you found me now” you whispered once more. 

“i don’t think they meant to do this” sweat dripped from his forehead. “they were kids, not older than fourteen, but they left and they took my wand”

“oh god” you repeated as you shook your head, holding his face in your blood soaked hands and kissing his lips softly.

“i thought you were dead” tears slipped over his cheeks and you shook your head crying. 

“i’m gonna help you” you said quickly, before reaching for your wand and using it’s magic to extract the glass from theo’s body. he was winding on the ground, the pain probably unbearable. but you had to do this in order to help him. he would heal, he would survive and that was all that mattered to you in this moment. 

“i don’t want to fight” theo cried “not for them, not against you” 

“i know, my love, i know”

the healing had begun, slowly but surely his wound closed up, only leaving behind the blood around you and the worry on your face.

“come on” you said, as soon as he looked less pale. you took his hand and he followed you through the corridors of the castle, standing next to you when you had to fight death eaters, even beginning to send curses himself. 

“you don’t have to fight, theo” you called over the loudness of the fight. “confringo! i don’t want you to fight against him” 

“i’m not leaving you” theo called back, his voice nearly drowned out by the deatheater across from him, who was screaming curses and uttering threats about theo’s betrayal at the same time. “he doesn’t mean anything to me”

“what?” you send the deatheater flying against the wall, effectively knocking him out. your wand was now facing theo's death eater too.

“i don’t care for my father” theo said, before he too send the man flying. “i only care for you and your well being”

you made sure it was safe, before you pulled him in and kissed him so passionately that you almost forgot you had ever been apart. “don’t ever let me go again, theodore nott” 

“i wouldn’t dare, y/n l/n” 

you took his hand, walking back into the entrance hall, looking if you were needed anywhere. that’s when you saw them coming over the bridge. 

“he’s here” you said, pushing theo behind you if there was really anything you could do to save him. “he’s—��� you paused, as the both of you walked closer up behind the rows of people already standing in the courtyard.

“harry…?” your voice was quiet, as you adressed the boy you had put all your hope in. someone you hadn’t known well, not well enough to be on first name basis, but what did it matter now that he was. what was he?

“harry potter is dead!” voldemort announced loudly, while the deatheaters broke into laughter. 

ginny weasley dashed forward with a heartbreaking scream. “no! no!”

“stupid girl! harry potter is dead, from this day forth you put your faith in me” you looked down onto the ground in front of you and then back at theo, who looked like he was being painfully tortured by voldemorts words. he too had set his hope into harry.

“it’s done” you said softly. “the war is over”

“we lost”

“harry potter is dead!” voldemort repeated once more “and now is the time to declare youself. come forward and join us.. or die”

your ears were drenched out by the wailing sound in your head. it was loud that you missed everything neville said. you pressed your eyes close, wishing to be anywhere else. to be free from this destiny, but you knew you could never just leave. you wouldn’t be able to leave all these people behind. 

it was theo‘s voice that woke you from your half sleeping state. the word he muttered was foreign on his tongue, but ignited a flame inside of you immediately. 

“harry”

your eyes snapped open like a gun shot had rung through the air. but it wasn’t the sound of a gun. it was harry potter, who was running and firing spells at voldemort. you just had seconds to react, before the fight broke out again, no end in sight. 

you had never thought to be happy that a war continued.

but continuation meant that you hadn’t lost yet. there was a chance to win as long as harry potter was alive. 

when voldemort finally dies, it’s nothing like you ever imagined. he bursts into the air, pieces by pieces disappearing until only his wand is left. 

the deatheater in front of you let’s his wand fall to the ground and you don’t have any interest to finish the job as you sank into theo‘s arms. content is flashing through your body and immediate tiredness is dragging you down. theo holds you as all your weight crashes against him. 

you‘re tired of fighting and of war and death and fear. there is nothing in your head, apart from the thought that you will never have to endure all of that again.

theo and you went away after the war.

you travelled europe for a year, before you came back to hogwarts to finish the school year you were still missing. 

theo got a job at the ministry, you started working at hogwarts. he proposed to you the day that you signed the contract. 

your wedding was beautiful. pansy and luna were your bridesmaids. draco and mattheo were theo‘s groomsmen. all of your friends were there. you had even invited the golden trio, it was only thanks to them that the both of you were still alive and able to celebrate your connection.

“you lost your bow again, robin!” theo picked up the little pink bow and clipped it to his suit, knowing that your daughter was way too busy to even hear him call for her. 

“maybe you should just give up” you suggested, picking up luke who was softly hitting your leg, seemingly tired of walking. 

“but she looks so cute with it!” theo protested, the disappointment sipping from his voice as he pushed the trolley through the wall. 

“it‘s no use if she always loses them” you shrugged. “what is it? like the tenth one you’ve gotten her in the past month alone? just wait until she’s older, love”

theo sighed, but nodded at your suggestion. 

“grace, robin” you called, looking around the people in front of you to spot your girls. 

“well, lucky you’ve got me” mattheo popped up next to you, robin in his arms, as he threw a wink in your direction. 

“why are you even here, mate?” theo asked annoyed “you didn’t have any children the last time i checked”

“well, theres still a few women we’re not a hundred percent sure about yet” pansy joked as she appeared in front of you. “hey sweetheart” she kissed your cheek, before she took luke out of your arms. 

“haha” mattheo rolled his eyes. “i was just accompanying my nieces and nephew’s like a good godfather and uncle should do”

“nope” theo shook his head. “you’re still not grace’s godfather, one daughter of mine has to be enough, riddle” 

“yeah, yeah” mattheo shook his head, clearly not caring about anything theo said “we’ll get there eventually”

“no, we won’t, that’s the point—“ 

“hello nott” blaise greeted, draco following, scorpius and grace behind him. you sighed in relief, glad you daughter had not gotten lost.

“blaise” theo nodded, while you went around the trolley, hugging both men. 

“amazing style choice” blaise pointed against his chest and theo's eyes fell down on his own chest, having completely forgotten about the bow he had pinned there. “looks great on you, mate”

“it’s robin’s”

“sure, keep telling yourself that” blaise said with a sarcastic smile “i heard denial is a river in egypt, y/n”

you giggled, but promptly stopped when theo elbowed you. “you’re my wife. mine” he muttered between clenched teeth, but clearly joking. 

draco took a look on his watch. “there are places we have to be, aren’t there?” he set a hand on both scorpius’ and grace’s shoulder, who were talking to each other excitedly.

“of course” you nodded, following your friends to the platform and hugging your daughter so close, as if that might make her leaving a little less hard. “stay with scorpius, sweetheart. stick together, the both of you” you advised. 

“i think isaac was trying to safe a department for the three of you” blaise told you daughter, who smiled gratefully. 

“yes, mum” grace nodded, before you swapped places with theo, who was already crying. 

“write to me every week, honey!” he declared. “stay far away from professor trewlaney and close to your mother as soon as she’s back at work”

“theo” you shook your head “she should have space to develop” you watched grace and scorpius board the train, waving as it slowly left the station.

“i’ve seen people develop at hogwarts!” he shook his head “it lead to a pregnancy in your case, tesoro”

blaise and draco choked on their spit simultaneously.

“that was after i became a teacher and you know it, dear husband”

mattheo held robin away from him, to take her in fully. “were you made there too?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone in particular.

“mattheo!” draco, pansy and you scolded loudly. 

“hey guys!” enzo appeared behind you suddenly, startling all of you. “oh no, they’re already off, aren’t they?” 

you nodded sadly, feeling sorry for the poor bloke who couldn’t arrive on time if his life depended on it.

“half an hour too late” draco exclaimed with a look at his watch. “as always”

“well you know the traffic is being a bitch” enzo slapped a hand to his mouth, before he took a quick look at evie next to him. “sorry, love. well everything’s been a b-word since jacky started forcing me to use muggle transportation.”

“i do not envy you one bit” mattheo shrugged.

“well, evie” enzo shrugged “the train is gone, but i hear that the weasleys have this super cool car, that—“

“no!” you shook your head, taking the little girls hand in yours. “i’ll take her!” 

“so get-together at yours or what, nott?” mattheo asked “gonna have to know which of your kids were conceived in hogwarts” 

“mattheo!” all of you scolded at the same time.

[withahappyrefrain]

FRAT TASM!PETER WITH

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

THIS IS SOMETHING THAT COCKY ASSHOLE WOULD SAYYY OH MY GOD

This is how blonde frat Peter returns bless you

Warning: language, frat Peter being a cocky little shit, female reader, I think that's it!

"Hey, you made it after all."

You audbily breathe in through your nose, trying to ignore the fumes of vodka and who knows what else was in this God forsaken jungle juice.

Anything to give you the strength to face Peter Parker.

You turn around to find him leaning against the door, a joint tucked behind his ear, hands in the pocket of his black hoodie, bleached blonde hair somehow perfectly messy.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Parker. I'm only here to support my roommate," you scoff, turning your attention back to the game of beer pong. Not that you were truly interested.

But you couldn't let him know that.

You regret being late to the first day of your Science Diplomacy & World Health class. Had you known it would have left you no choice but to sit next to Peter Parker, you wouldn't have hit the snooze button for your alarm five times.

It wasn't even like you had asked to borrow a pencil from him. He seemed drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

"Y'know, I feel like I would have remembered a face like yours. You a transfer?" He asked, as if you two weren't in the middle of a lecture.

Thanks to your roommate being in the sorority that paired up with his frat, you had heard all about Peter Parker. The infamous parties. How he dyed his hair blonde at the beginning of sophomore. How he's the biggest flirt that Delta Lambda Phi had.

You didn't even look at him when you responded, "We've been in the same class since freshman year. But I came here to get a degree, not to party."

Ever since that day, he wouldn't leave you alone. At first it started with ridiculously over the top pick up lines.

"Are you made up of copper and tellurium? Because you're cute."

All you could do was roll your eyes at every line, mustering all the strength you had to not smile. You had eyes, the guy was cute. But you also knew his type.

So when he extended a personal invite to the latest frat party, you simply turned him down, like you had for countless of other parties.

Of course, as luck would have it, it was exactly the party your roommate wanted to go to.

You hoped to avoid him, hoped that your roommate would find whoever she was looking for so you could leave.

But it was as if Peter Parker had a sixth sense for you specifically. His inability to find you in libraries, dinning halls, and the university's coffee shop (bc fuck Starbucks) had now extended to frat parties.

"You know Parker, stalking is a serious crime," you scoff, refusing to look at him. The ever present scent of cinnamon alerted you that he was now standing next to you.

"It's not my fault you have a beautiful face that I could pick out from a crowd," He mumbles, a stark contrast to the usual cocky bravada you're used to.

"Excuse me?" Without thinking, you turn to face him, making contact with those big brown eyes.

The corner of his pink lips jerk upwards as he leans in, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. His touch is gentle, something you weren't expecting at all.

"You heard me." The cocky smile had returned, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't gimme that. I know you love how cheesy I am."

Unfortunately, it was true. He was never crude and it somehow sounded genuine, despite being accompanied by a worn snapback.

"It's not crass, unlike your fellow brotherin. I'll give you that Parker." You would have taken a step back if you could, but you were now up against the wall. But he still had space to close in on you, not that he did. He always kept enough distance that you could walk away.

Come to think of it, you hadn't seen or heard him flirt with anyone since the first day of classes.

"Y'know, I got an offer from Delta Chi. It could be way worse." His comment earned a laugh from you, a feat Peter was quite proud of.

"You're right, I guess I should give you that."

"I think you can give me a lot more," He leaned in, closing some of the distance between you two but not all the way, "If you want."

The ball was in your court. His lips looked so soft, no doubt from the vanilla chapstick he used. God, why did you know that about him? And why did he always smell like cinnamon instead of Axe body spray? That's what he should be using, it would certainly make it easier for you to discourage your own feelings about the guy.

Tired of denying, tired of putting up a wall, and not kissing anyone in the last four months caused you to grab at his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his.

You vaguely register the sound of the dropped plastic cup, as your fingers thread through his hair to find it soft, despite all the hair dye and bleach.

Peter's hands feel large as they skim your sides, landing at your hips. When his tongue slid across your bottom lip, you could feel your knees begin to go weak. As if he could sense it, he pushed your back firmly against the wall, one of his large hands going down to your thigh to help steady you.

Fuck, his lips were soft. There was muscle underneath that hoodie, you could feel it.

His lips trailed down to your jaw before settling on your ear.

"I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard. Wanna hear about it?"

Desire burned at the pit of your stomach, your fingers gripping the strands of his hair.

"Where the fuck is your bedroom Parker?"

[muiitoloko]

I looooved the daddy severus fanfic aaaaghhhh ❤️ but now can we have what he needed to do to have the baby lol

Breeding kink severus PLEASE!!! Xx

Title: A Second Chance

Summary: Surviving the war was only the beginning for Severus Snape. With your love, he learns to embrace life, finding comfort in the thought of a future that includes a family of his own.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: I'm so glad you loved the Daddy Severus fanfic! ❤️ And I couldn't resist your request, so I went ahead with the breeding kink idea—but decided to keep it light and wrote a completely new one-shot instead. Don't worry, it's more on the sweet side, nothing too kinky 😅. Hope you enjoy this one just as much! xx

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never imagined he would survive the war, let alone find himself married years after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. In truth, he hadn't even expected to live past the moment Nagini's fangs had torn into his throat. The pain had been excruciating, but it was fleeting—quickly overtaken by the cold, creeping numbness of death. He had welcomed it, that final escape from a life filled with darkness and deceit. Everything had gone black, and he thought that was the end.

But death had not come for Severus Snape that day. Instead, he had awoken to the sterile smell of potions and the clinical brightness of the Hogwarts infirmary, with Madam Pomfrey's stern face hovering above him, muttering incantations and administering salves to his ravaged neck. She had told him that the war was over, that Voldemort was defeated, and in those first few moments of lucidity, Snape had wanted nothing more than to slip back into unconsciousness. He had nothing left to live for, after all. But fate, as it often did, had other plans.

Snape had been in a coma for two long years—two years during which the wizarding world had moved on without him, during which he had been declared a hero by none other than Harry Potter, the boy he had once loathed. Potter, in his infinite idiocy, had come forward with memories—his memories—evidence that Snape had been working as a double agent, risking everything to protect the son of the woman he had loved more than life itself. It was Potter’s testimony that had spared Snape from Azkaban, and it was Potter who had ensured that he was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, and hailed as a hero in the aftermath of the war.

Snape thought bitterly of that fool of a boy now, sitting in the grand sitting room of one of the Prince family’s old mansions. The house had been passed down to him as the last living heir of the Prince family, a lineage he had long since stopped caring about. His mother’s bloodline had never brought him anything but misery, and yet here he was, a reluctant beneficiary of the wealth and status he had once despised. He rubbed the large scar on his neck, the mark left by Nagini’s fangs a constant reminder of how close he had come to death. It barely allowed him to speak without pain, a daily torment that was only mitigated by the potions and treatments he had to endure.

And that was where you came in.

You had been sent by St. Mungo’s on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, assigned to take care of Snape’s throat, which often swelled and caused him intense pain at random times. The venom of Nagini had remained in his bloodstream, a sinister reminder of the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. Snape hadn’t wanted you there. In those first few days, he had made every effort to drive you away, using every tactic at his disposal—scathing remarks, icy glares, and, when words failed him, the sheer force of his silent, menacing presence. But you hadn’t been intimidated. You had insisted on staying, refusing to leave despite his best efforts to scare you off. You were patient, determined, and unfailingly kind—qualities that Snape found both infuriating and, inexplicably, disarming.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things began to change between the two of you. Perhaps it was the day he had tried to intimidate you with a particularly venomous glare, only to find that you met his gaze with calm resolve, refusing to back down. He had pressed you against the wall in a fit of frustration, intending to finally break through that maddening composure, but instead, he had found himself kissing you—fiercely, desperately, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. That kiss had quickly turned into something more—something that left you both breathless and shaken, your bodies entwined in a feverish, almost primal need.

Months had passed since that first heated encounter, and somehow, through a series of events that still seemed surreal to him, Snape had found himself married to you. He looked down at the simple, yet elegant ring on his finger, a symbol of a life he had never imagined for himself. The ring was one he had chosen himself, purchased with the money he had saved over the years as a professor—years of putting up with those insufferable, brainless children. The irony of it all was not lost on him. Severus Snape, the cold, unyielding Potions Master, now had a wife, a home, and a life that was, in many ways, far more normal than he had ever thought possible.

He had thought he would hate it—the domesticity, the mundanity of it all. But as he sat in the quiet of the old manor, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, he realized that he didn’t hate it. Not at all. In fact, he found a strange sort of peace in it—a peace he hadn’t known in decades, if ever. It was a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, he had somehow found a place in this world—a place with you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see you entering the room, a soft smile on your face as you made your way over to him. You were dressed simply, yet elegantly, your presence filling the room with a warmth that he still wasn’t quite used to, but which he had come to cherish nonetheless.

“Severus,” you greeted him, your voice soft and soothing as you approached. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged slightly, the familiar discomfort in his throat a dull throb that he had long since learned to ignore. “As well as can be expected,” he replied, his voice low and rough, a result of the lingering effects of the venom.

You nodded, your expression one of understanding and quiet concern as you reached out to gently touch his hand, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of his wedding ring. “I’m glad,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his chest tighten. “You know, you don’t have to bear this burden alone. I’m here, Severus. I’ll always be here.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the weight of your words sinking in, filling the empty spaces in his heart that he had long thought would remain void. He had spent so many years alone, so many years building walls around himself to keep others out, that it still felt strange—unnatural, even—to have someone who cared about him, who wanted to share in his burdens.

But you were here, in his life, in his home, and he had somehow, against all odds, found himself falling for you in a way he hadn’t believed was possible. You had been a light in the darkness, a beacon that had guided him back to the land of the living when all he had wanted was to fade into oblivion.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at your hand in his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else could. “And I’m… grateful.”

You smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that lit up your entire face, and for a moment, Snape felt something stir within him—something that had been dormant for far too long. It was a warmth, a flicker of hope, of love, that he had thought he would never feel again.

Without another word, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with all the affection and tenderness that you had brought into his life. Snape closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation, to savor the moment, the connection between you.

When you finally pulled back, you looked at him with a quiet intensity, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to understand the depth of what he was feeling. And in that moment, Snape realized that you did understand—that you knew him better than anyone ever had, perhaps even better than he knew himself.

“I love you, Sev,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “I always will.”

But Severus Snape had never been one for grand declarations, especially when it came to matters of the heart. The words I love you felt foreign on his tongue, weighed down by the years of pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. Instead, he preferred to convey his feelings through subtle gestures, through actions that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight, he intended to show you just how much you meant to him.

Without a word, Snape leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss, one that was slow and deliberate, full of a restrained passion that he had kept buried for far too long. His lips moved against yours with a careful intensity, as if he was savoring every moment, every sensation. His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, his long, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer to him.

You responded eagerly, your body leaning into his as the kiss grew more heated, more urgent. Snape’s other hand found its way to your waist, his grip firm but gentle as he guided you onto his lap, your dress rustling softly as you straddled him. The fabric of his dark robes brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body.

When he finally broke the kiss, his breathing was slightly uneven, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that you had rarely seen before. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat, his gaze piercing through you as if he was trying to convey all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Without breaking eye contact, Snape’s hands moved to the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the soft fabric as he slowly pushed it up, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs. He let out a low, almost inaudible groan as he felt the warmth of your body against his, the sight of you on his lap stirring something primal within him.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper as he traced the outline of your hips with his hands, his touch possessive yet reverent. It wasn’t quite I love you, but it carried the same weight, the same depth of emotion. It was his way of claiming you, of letting you know that you belonged to him in every sense of the word.

You shivered at his touch, your own hands moving to his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric of his robes. His grip on you tightened slightly as he pulled you even closer, pressing your body against his as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a clear indication of just how much he wanted you.

“Severus…” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of anticipation and desire as you felt his lips ghosting over your throat, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses in their wake.

Snape didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his hands slipping beneath your dress, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine before moving lower, cupping your ass and giving it a possessive squeeze. His lips found their way back to yours, capturing them in another deep, fervent kiss as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that his cock was perfectly aligned with your entrance, the heat of your arousal palpable through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Snape’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes boring into yours as he uttered a single, hoarse word: “Bedroom.” The command was rough, almost strangled, a reminder of the ever-present pain that laced his throat. You could see the discomfort etched into the lines of his face, a sharp pang of concern shooting through you. Was he okay? Was the pain too much for him? But before you could voice your worries, Snape dismissed them with a hard, determined look. He wasn’t going to let anything interrupt this moment.

In a swift, fluid motion, he lifted you into his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as you clung to him. His strength surprised you, the lean muscles beneath his robes belying the quiet power he possessed. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, straining through the fabric of his impeccably tailored trousers. The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a fire in your belly.

He moved with purpose, carrying you down the dimly lit hallway of the old manor, his long robes billowing around him like shadows. The silence between you was thick, charged with the unspoken desires that had been building between you for months. Snape’s grip on you was firm, possessive, his hands settling on the curve of your ass as he held you close. The tension in the air was palpable, the only sounds were the soft rustle of fabric and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

When he finally reached the bedroom, Snape pushed the door open with a gentle nudge of his foot, striding inside without hesitation. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. The bed—a grand, four-poster affair draped in rich, dark fabrics—stood at the center of the room, an inviting haven amidst the darkness.

Without breaking his stride, Snape crossed the room and laid you down on the bed, his movements careful but deliberate. The mattress dipped under your weight as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. He stood at the edge of the bed, his tall, lean figure imposing and commanding, his dark robes making him look every bit the cold, enigmatic man you had first met. But now, there was something more in his eyes—a burning need, a primal desire that he could no longer suppress.

Snape’s hands moved to the clasp of his robes, his fingers deftly undoing it before he shrugged off the heavy fabric, letting it pool on the floor at his feet. He remained silent, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to unbutton his shirt, each movement slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The pale, angular planes of his chest were revealed inch by inch, the faint scars and the dark trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers only adding to his rugged appeal.

Your mouth went dry as you watched him, your pulse quickening with each piece of clothing he shed. By the time he reached the waistband of his trousers, you were practically trembling with anticipation, your body aching with the need to feel him against you.

Snape didn’t rush. Instead, he paused, his fingers lingering on the waistband of his trousers as he looked down at you, his gaze dark and hungry. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, roughened by both his desire and the ever-present pain in his throat.

“I’m going to fill you,” he rasped, the words sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. His expression was one of pure, unbridled lust, his eyes locked on yours as he added, “I’m going to put a baby inside you.”

The raw, primal promise in his words left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as heat pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness gathering there, your body responding to his words in a way that was utterly instinctive. Snape’s eyes flickered with satisfaction as he noticed your reaction, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your ankle, pulling you toward the edge of the bed with a firm, steady grip. You let out a soft gasp as your back arched, your dress riding up higher, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. Snape’s hand slid up your calf, his touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through you as he pushed your dress up, revealing the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice hoarse but commanding, a dark edge to his tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed without hesitation, your hands trembling slightly as you reached down to slip the dress over your head. The fabric pooled on the floor beside the bed, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Snape’s gaze raked over your body, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, the word almost lost in the roughness of his voice. His hand moved to your hip, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear before slipping beneath the fabric. The feel of his hand against your bare skin sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breath hitching as he caressed you with slow, deliberate strokes.

You moaned softly as his fingers found your wetness, your body arching into his touch. Snape’s gaze was fixed on yours, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. He moved his fingers with a practiced precision, teasing you with light, feathering touches that left you gasping for more.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as you looked up at him. “Yes, Severus, please.”

Snape’s smirk widened at your desperate plea, his hand leaving your core to grip your thigh, spreading your legs wider. He moved between them, his trousers slipping down to reveal his throbbing erection, the sight of it making your mouth water with desire.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against your wet folds as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. The sensation was electric, his lips moving against yours with a fierce, possessive hunger that left you dizzy. You could feel the tension coiling within him, the barely restrained need that pulsed through every inch of his body.

With a low growl, Snape pushed inside you, the thick length of him stretching you to the brink as he buried himself to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it as he filled you completely. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the raw power in the way he moved.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, his thrusts deep and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Snape’s gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on yours as he claimed you with every thrust, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive strength that left you breathless.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he drove into you with a primal, almost savage need. “Mine to fuck, mine to fill…mine to breed.”

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through you, your body tightening around him as you let out a low, breathy moan. Snape’s hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you against him with each thrust, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the intensity of the moment.

You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Snape’s name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he drove you closer to the edge.

Snape's breath was ragged as he buried himself inside you, his trousers bunched up around his ankles, trapped by the boots he hadn't bothered to remove. It didn’t matter to him—nothing mattered now except the primal, driving need to fill you, to claim you in the most profound and intimate way. His dark, greasy hair clung to his forehead as he hovered above you, his pale, angular face set in a mask of intense concentration and desire.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, each movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge, to ensure that every inch of him was felt within you. His normally stoic expression was marred only slightly by the flicker of pain that crossed his features when he dared to speak. The venomous scars on his neck, the constant reminder of his near brush with death, flared in protest with every word. But his voice—deep, roughened by the damage to his throat—slipped out when he could no longer contain the twisted fantasies that had consumed him.

“Mine,” he rasped, the single word filled with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place as he thrust into you again, harder this time, his need taking over. “You’re mine.”

The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding, the soft crackling of the fire the only other noise breaking the silence. His boots scraped against the floor as he shifted, driving into you with a relentless pace that left no room for doubt about his intentions. The weight of his body pinned you beneath him, the full force of his need pressing down on you.

His mind was filled with images—visions of you swollen with his child, your body heavy with the life he’d put inside you. The thought only spurred him on, fueling the dark hunger that had taken root within him. He could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye—a little girl, with your beauty and his cunning, a powerful witch who would carry on the legacy he had never thought he would pass on.

“You’ll give me a daughter,” he whispered hoarsely, the words a struggle, each one tinged with the pain it caused him to speak. But he had to say it, had to let you know the depths of his desire. His fingers dug into your skin as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You’ll carry her, and she���ll be perfect…just like you.”

The idea of breeding you, of seeing you swollen with his child, made him almost desperate in his movements. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal precision that left you gasping, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to hold onto something as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

His breathing was labored, the strain of holding back the pain of speaking clear in the way his chest heaved, but he couldn’t stop now. His fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as he watched the effect it had on you, the way your body responded to him, the way you trembled beneath him. It was intoxicating, knowing that he had this power over you, that he could bring you to the brink of ecstasy with just a few well-placed touches.

“You’re going to be so beautiful,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “Round and full…carrying my child. My daughter.” His eyes were locked on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering as he thrust into you with a newfound urgency. “I’ll protect you…both of you…no one will ever hurt you.”

His words were rough, almost growled out between clenched teeth as the fire within him built to a fever pitch. He was close, so close, and he could feel you tightening around him, the telltale signs of your impending climax pushing him even further.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding despite the strain. “I want to feel you…want to feel you fall apart around me.”

You were helpless to resist him, your body obeying his every command as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Your climax hit you hard, your entire body tensing as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Snape watched you, his gaze dark and intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with a final, powerful thrust.

He could feel you convulsing around him, the tight, wet heat of your climax pulling him over the edge with you. He let out a low, guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside you, his release flooding you with a heat that seemed to burn through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the faint rustle of the sheets as Snape remained still above you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of catching his breath. His dark hair fell forward, obscuring his face as he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips rough and warm against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered one final time, his voice barely more than a breath. “And you’ll give me everything.”

His words hung in the air, a promise, a vow, as he slowly pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness almost jarring after the intensity of what had just passed between you. He laid down beside you, pulling you close to his chest, his long fingers tangling in your hair as he held you tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

In the silence that followed, Snape closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. But even as sleep began to take him, the thought of you carrying his child—his daughter—brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to his lips.

For the first time in years, Severus Snape allowed himself to hope for the future.

After the intensity of your shared moment had begun to settle, you found yourself recovering faster than Severus, whose chest still heaved as he fought to catch his breath. His dark eyes were closed, his pale face flushed with the remnants of passion, and his hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. For a brief moment, you simply watched him, your heart swelling with a deep, unspoken affection. It was in these quiet moments, after the storm of his desire had passed, that you felt closest to him—that you saw the man behind the formidable exterior, vulnerable and human.

You moved gently, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the scarred skin of his neck, your lips lingering just above the spot where Nagini's fangs had once pierced him. His eyes fluttered open at the sensation, and he looked down at you with a mixture of exhaustion and something that might have been tenderness, though he would never admit it aloud. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he might protest your ministrations, but you silenced him with a look, your eyes conveying a wordless command.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, your voice soft yet firm as you began to reach down, your hands deftly unfastening the boots that had remained stubbornly on his feet. Snape tried to protest, his brows knitting together in irritation at the thought of you taking care of him, but the protest died on his lips when you fixed him with a pointed stare.

“Be quiet, Severus,” you instructed gently, though there was no mistaking the steel behind your words. “Let me do this.”

For once, he complied, his lips pressing into a thin line as he allowed you to help him. It was an act of trust, a rare thing for him, and you didn’t take it lightly. You removed his boots with care, followed by the trousers that had bunched awkwardly around his ankles, your fingers brushing against his skin as you worked. Despite the lingering heat between you, your touch was tender, almost reverent, as you undressed him, revealing the lean, angular planes of his body that were usually hidden beneath his dark, forbidding robes.

When you were finished, you summoned your wand with a simple flick of your wrist, casting a quiet cleaning charm over the two of you. The warm, tingling sensation of the magic swept away the remnants of your passion, leaving you both feeling refreshed, though the intimate connection between you remained unbroken.

You returned to his side, snuggling against him with a contented sigh, your head resting on his chest as you traced lazy patterns on his skin with your fingertips. Snape’s arm wrapped around you almost instinctively, his long fingers threading through your hair as he held you close. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, a soothing rhythm that calmed your own.

Lifting your head slightly, you rested your chin on his chest, your eyes meeting his with a mischievous glint. “At this rate, we’ll have a baby soon,” you remarked with a teasing smile, your tone light despite the weight of your words. “You’ve practically made love to me every day since I mentioned you’d be a great father.”

A faint flush colored Snape’s cheeks, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you couldn’t be sure. His gaze flickered with a mix of emotions—desire, uncertainty, and something deeper, something almost fragile. You knew that the idea of fatherhood had taken root in his mind, had sparked a longing that he hadn’t fully realized until you had voiced it aloud.

“It… seems to have stuck in my head,” he admitted gruffly, his voice low and rough as he avoided your gaze, his fingers still gently tangled in your hair. “The idea of… breeding you, of putting babies inside you… it… it turns me on to no end.”

There was a vulnerability in his admission, a raw honesty that was rare for him, and it made your heart ache with affection for the man who had always kept his true self hidden beneath layers of cold detachment. You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing lightly over the scar on his neck as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Severus,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “And I’d be honored to carry your child… our child.”

Snape’s breath hitched at your words, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to find the truth in them. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. “You… would?”

You nodded, your smile widening as you rested your forehead against his, your heart swelling with love for the man who had once believed himself incapable of it. “Of course. There’s no one else I’d want to share this with… no one else I’d trust with this.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of Snape’s lips, and he let out a shaky breath as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive tenderness that spoke volumes. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope—not just for the future, but for a future with you, a future where he could be the man, the husband, and the father he had never believed he could be.

As you lay together in the quiet of the old manor, the fire in the hearth casting a warm glow over your entwined bodies, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, you had found each other. And as Snape’s hand drifted to rest on your abdomen, his fingers splayed over your skin in a gesture that was both protective and tender, you knew that the love you shared would be enough to carry you through whatever came next.

[allllium]

The Perfect Gift

~ Today is my birthday and I immediately thought about Remus being the best boyfriend ever so here's something short and sweet about Remus being amazing for your birthday <3

~ Fluff, Remus being a little insecure, WC: 963

~ Remus gets you the perfect birthday gift

Remus was really nervous. He often is around you but this time it's worse. Today is your birthday and he got you what at the time seemed like a great gift, but now, after seeing the things you got from everything else, he doesn't feel like it's so great anymore.

All day he has seen you get these amazing, slightly expensive gifts, all of which now make his gift pale in comparison. He decided not to buy you anything this year, feeling like nothing was good enough for you, instead he made you something. More like he tries to make something and ending up needing his mum to help him.

He holds the bag tentatively in his hand. A simple black bag with a ribbon of your favorite color keeping it tied. He makes his way to the muggle restaurant you agreed to meet at for dinner. After spending all day at a birthday party with your friends and family, you went shopping with a couple close friends to get new clothes for a fancy dinner.

"Rem!" You light up when you see him. You'd just gotten there moments before and decided to wait outside until he showed up.

"Hi angel." He greets in a gently murmur, pulling you in for a quiet kiss.

"You got me a gift?" You smile and ask. Of course you expected it considering Remus gets you gifts more often than you can count.

"Obviously. I love any day where I can celebrate you." He begins to walk into the restaurant as if he didn't just make you swoon. You move quickly to catch up and grab his hand.

"What is it?" You question inpatiently. You've been waiting all day for this, not just for a gift but getting a gift from him specifically. You know whatever is in that bag will be much more thoughtful and meanful to you than anything else you've gotten today. Everything else were things that people spent a lot of money on to make up for the up they don't really know what you would want. Remus knows.

"You're gonna have to wait till after dinner."

"Awwww why?" You immediately whine.

"Cause I said so."

"Meanie." You whisper, walking up towards the hostess.

Dinner lasts well over an hour. Well dinner lasted about 20 minutes once you got your food, but you and Remus stayed far longer. You spent the time talking and laughing and on Remus's end clearly procrastinating giving you your gift.

You know he's doing this because he's been fiddling with the ribbon and steering the conversation away from it every time.

"So what's making you overthink this time?"

For a moment he gives you a strange look but he quickly smiles and asks what you mean.

"Well you won't give me the gift which wouldn't matter except you've been really excited about it for weeks. Obviously you're thinking about something and I guarantee you have no reason to." You swiftly explain.

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't get you a gift. I made you one well my mother and I made you one. But I don't know if it'll match up to the other gifts you got today." He shyly says. His face turning a shade of red.

"You made me something?" You grin wildly at him and his overly sweet heart. "Gimme it. Please."

"I don't know maybe I should get you something else."

"Hell no. Hand it over before I come over this table and get it myself." The threat comes out of your mouth before you have the opportunity to stop it. Remus only smiles at you, both because he knows you'll actually do it and it makes him feel slightly better about his strange insecurity.

He finally sighs and hands over the bag. Knowing he really has no choice. He watches anxiously as you carefully pull off the ribbon and remove the tissue paper. Watching as your face drops and eyes slightly tear. For a moment he thinks he was right in being scared but you jump out of your seat and move to his side of the table. Your chair scraps loudly against the tile floor and he winces at the noise.

At his side of the table you hug him enough to push the air out of his lungs. You grab his face and give him many quick kisses, ignoring the strange looks from people at surrounding tables.

"I love it. I love it. I love you!" You exclaim.

"Are you sure?" He asks, confused by your out of ordinary outburst.

"Remus this is the best gift I've ever gotten. I love you so much." You immediately ask him to put it on you. Lighting up even more if possible when you look down at your wrist to see the gorgeous bracelet. The gorgeous bracelet that your amazing boyfriend, and his mum, hand made just for you. The gorgeous bracelet with carved, metal charms dangling from it. The gorgeous bracelet that somehow fits you perfectly.

"I thought that I could make you more charms as time goes on. Things that represent what we are together, y'know." You look at him for a split second, with tears in your eyes, before looking back down to closely admire the charms you already have. As of right now there's a wolf, a star, a flower, and a sun. The sun is special. You flip it over to see a small engraved heart with both your initials in it.

"You are the most perfect man to exist." You turn to him and say. "Seriously this is the best gift ever."

"I love you." He says. Standing from his chair and pulling you in by the waist.

Putting your head against his, you whisper, "I love you more."

[usnatarchives]

As mentioned on 60 Minutes last night, we are thrilled to announce that the 19th Amendment, which granted women the right to vote, will go on permanent display at the National Archives Building in Washington, DC.

Beginning in March 2026, visitors will have the unique opportunity to see this groundbreaking legislation alongside some of the most important documents in American history—the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the Emancipation Proclamation.

The 19th Amendment represents a pivotal moment in our nation's history, as it removed voting restrictions for more than half of Americans and was the result of over eight decades of tireless advocacy by the women’s suffrage movement. This addition to the display marks an effort to present a fuller story of America’s journey toward equality and democracy. It also serves as a powerful reminder of the progress we’ve made and the work that continues as we move toward a more perfect union, just in time to celebrate the nation’s 250th anniversary.

Archivist of the United States Dr. Colleen Shogan shared her excitement: "I am thrilled we are adding these documents as we celebrate 250 years of the United States of America. I look forward to welcoming all Americans to experience first-hand this engaging history on display.”

Learn more about this momentous announcement in this National Archives press release: https://www.archives.gov/press/press-releases/2024/nr24-40

📸: Nineteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, June 4, 1919 (cropped). https://catalog.archives.gov/id/596314

[dear-ao3]

the 2024 formula 1 silly season and drama master post, part 2 (part 1 here)

Hello and welcome to ah fucking fuck auto caps fuck fuck fuck how do i turn off auto caps AHA there we go okay. take 2

hello and welcome to the great and very insane formula 1 2024 season drama post, part 2. if you are new here or are just looking for part one (which contains the previous 16 (?) races, the off season, pre season testing and everything else, that can be found HERE. (a word to the wise: open it in a browser, not the app, and preferably on a computer to avoid crashing. its fucking long). 

what the hell is formula 1? car go fast. fastest cars in the world zoom around tracks at top speeds of over 300kph, piloted by the top 20 drivers in the world. it might not sound dramatic, but oh man. you will Not be disappointed. this post focuses on the drama, the insanity, the sheer what the hell how is this a serious sport. no legitimately. we've just about seen it all this year. grindr, dogs, watersports, ice cream brands, its all here.

the point of this post? to educate, to catalog the insane drama, and to just have a good time. people like to gatekeep this sport, there is also a lot happening. i try to make it easy to understand. again, probably best to start at the beginning of the post because it does a pretty good job of explaining things, which i began way back in january, and can be found HERE (again, shes long, be careful)

and, as usual, if you do not want to see this post EVER AGAIN, block the tag #saph explains silly season 2024

and a second caution, i assume this post will be getting long as well. including this one we have minimum 9 updates left!

anyway, those of you who have been following along the whole time, welcome back! i know we got a little delayed. and i know we’re on a new post, so lets just briefly take a second for me to explain what the fuck happened. first i had an anatomy test, second i work 2 jobs with fuck ass hours, third tumblr decided to stop letting me look at any of my drafts, fourth tumblr support ghosted me about the drafts issue and the post was half saving half not so i just decided fuck it, were going with post 2, electric boogaloo, and fifth, i decided to start typing this instead in a google docs so. many changes. if you're new here i am usually more on top of this.

but here we are. were back on street circuits. we’re in baku, azerbaijan, for the start of the last third of the season. 8 races remain, world championship titles are still within grasp of multiple people. the drama is dramaing. and today is september 22, 2024 and lets fucking go. 

first and foremost, on account of the fact that this post is late (again, see above), were going to have to do a bit of a speed run. if you're new here, i promise that this is not representative of my normal dedication to the update post. and for those asking, yeah, ill probably compile it somewhere better than a tumblr post after its all said and done, but we don't have time for that now. 

what we do have time for is the Off Week (and like some of the media stuff). and it was filled with silliness: 

george russell decided to wear what can only be described as slightly ugly yellow short shorts with his taylor swift shirt that he got at the eras tour. this was baffling for several reasons, the main reason being that i don't think the internet knew that he was capable of wearing a graphic t shirt

fernando alonso got his aston martin valkyrie finally. in case you are unfamiliar, a valkyrie i think is the worlds fastest street legal car. he posted tweets about this that made it seem like he wanted to fuck the car. hilariously, the car broke down an hour later.

we also had the very thrilling conclusion to grill the grid. oscar won and he somehow managed to look more pleased about his grill the grid win than his first race victory. 

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nico rosberg went to the green awards and he wore a fantastically insane teal blue suit. yes i know hes not a current driver. but you all like hearing about him so ask and you shall receive. unfornunately i cant find a picture of it though

and also not a current driver is mick schumacher, but my roommate asked me to include that he was seen on his girlfriends instagram being bad at golf. like. exceptionally bad at golf. like he hit a tree 20 feet in front of him.

also playing golf was lando norris. except he managed to look like try bolton from high school musical 2.

he also talked about the world driver championship with his friend max fewtrell while they were playing golf. unfortunately i lost this link in the sea of technical difficulties, but the gist of it was that he was saying that there is still hope for him to beat max in the championship (hes about 60 points behind right now). lando doesnt usually talk about the championship because he doesnt want news outlets to paint him as “desperate” so this was interesting

charles leclerc had an insane off week. first he rear ended someone in monaco. then he spoke at a yacht conference. he was not scheduled to speak at said yacht conference, he was there doing something else and they were like hey you're cool people know you, heres a microphone. he alsp ended up on a weather channel while promoting a karting event he was doing for the jules bianchi foundation (his god father, the one who died during the f1 race in japan 2014). he also changed his instagram pop and re centered it because some random tiktoker told him it matched his aesthetic better.

oscar piastri posted a photo of himself sitting in the cockpit of a plane and then promptly deleted it. because he posted it on 9/11. for anyone who doesnt know what that is, that was when some terrorists hijacked commercial planes and few them into the world trade centers in nyc and the pentagon in washington dc

max verstappen also posted a plane pic with himself and lando norris, but he did not delete it.

we also had the return of daniel ricciardo’s jpg instagram account, which is kinda like a finsta for photos that hes taken. i think lando started this a few years ago. 

heading into the race week we certainly got a weird ass batch of pr. including but not limited to:

lewis hamilton was back on top and slaying in the fit game. as was yuki. 

lewis hamilton also exposed george russell as listening to katy perry pre race. katy perry and taylor swift (this was after he claimed that he liked listening to old school rap music.) though, lewis then started singing wrecking ball???? confusing vibes all around

george was not off the hook yet tho because some intern definitely make him say skidibidi toilet or whatever the thing is idk, i might be gen z but im not insufferable, okay? actually george in baku was just all kinds of unhinged

george and alex also got up to something, what it is no one knows but it is clearly something

max pulled up to the paddock de aged about 10 years. picture one is of him in baku in 2015 (i believe he was 17) and picture 2 is this year. no i am not kidding. 

and franco walked into the paddock telling everyone about argentinian mate (which is a drink, not a friend)

and max shoved a microphone out of the way so everyone could gossip

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then of course, we had some slightly more relevant drama

haas announced that ollie would be replacing kevin at baku. in case you forgot, kevin magnussen received a total of 12 penalty points over the season so far, which means he gets one race ban. how did he get the points? well he was mostly wreaking havoc on everyone else so that his teammate, nico hulkenberg, could drag his car into the points. lets all remember the time in saudi arabia where he managed to get 20 seconds of penalties by basically driving like a mad man just to make sure that nico could keep his position after he pit stopped. anyway, nico was kind of pissed about the race ban situation and said “maybe the guidelines for F1 penalties need to be reviewed as the stewards ‘want to get involved’ no matter the contact.”

in any case though, k mags was out. and ollie was in. we’ve seen ollie before. notably he subbed in for carlos sainz at the saudi arabia gp when carlos had appendicitis. he managed to get points as well. since then, he has been announced as a haas driver for 2025 and is now subbing in for k mags (haas, later in the week called him a super sub. clearly no gen z person read that over.) he can do this because ferrari has a haas engine so they share reserve drivers.

adrian newey finally got employed. i know! i can hardly believe it either! but he did! and youll never guess where! 

ferrari? no that would be too obvious. 

mercedes? nah

williams? no too much of a shit show

aston martin? ding ding ding! just the right amount of shit show! 

that is right. newey is going to aston for 2025. 

apparently he was offered a “good package” according to himself, which i assume means pay and also the fact that lawrence stroll made him a shareholder? stakeholder? whatever its called. in the team itself. basically he has a lot of power. 

he said that he always wanted to work with fernando and lewis. and he couldn't do both. and aston had a better package than ferrari. 

fernando looked positively evil during all the announcement pictures. and called the team "definitely the team of the future" and for those of you who don't know, fernando is positively evil. hes just been stuck in a shit box and we havent seen very much of him, but man does he know how to evilly slut it up. so that will be fun to see.

by contrast, people said that lance was not excited enough. and well. lance 1. has resting bitch face and 2. never really looks excited about anything. also he lives in a world where take your child to work day somehow became his job. (his dad owns the team).

lewis hamilton was asked what he thought about adrian not going to ferrari, and here's what he had to say:

"i feel like, while I have mentioned before that it would be an honor to work with adrian, i have been privileged to work with two championship winning teams that didnt have adrian."

mclaren announced pato o ward would do FP1 in mexico. who is pato o ward? hes one of mclaren’s indycar drivers and one of the f1 reserve drivers. he is incredibly charming and definitely runs his own social media as seen here:

mclaren Also claim they figured out who their number 2 driver is and they claim its oscar. i say they claim because the statements were a lot more complex than that. essentially, according to andrea stella, the priority is to the team first, then lando and then oscar. so they didn't outright say that oscar is the number 2 driver and i am willing to bet real money that this is because mr mark webber, oscars manager, has something in oscars contract that prevents him from being a number 2 driver. this is of course because mark webber was one of the most infamous number 2 drivers in f1 history to none other than menace war criminal sebastian vettel, who in their time as teammates, managed to win 4 back to back world champions. or, top to bottom if you're mrs darbus from high school musical. 

lando was asked about this and he said that yes, the team does support him. though he would not expect oscar to give up a win for him and that it is more complex behind the scenes. i suppose we will see if there are any papaya rules coming out this weekend….

and oscar said "i think the main point is its not purely just going to be me pulling over for lando every single race, because thats how none of us, including lando, wont want to go racing, if we feel that someone has done a much better job on a weekend, whichever way it is, we want that person to be rewarded."

max verstappen commented on the mclaren situation as well. which was funny mostly because red bull has one of the most defined number 1 and number 2 drivers of any team. he said "you look at it form oscar's perspective, he is closer to lando than lando to me. they have to deal with that."

and allow me to put on a tin foil hat as we are about to talk about the future of the red bull seat. because all i have to offer here is a baseball hat and a red bull can. 

a long time ago we talked about the red bull cans. the ones that red bull makes to promote f1. at the end of last season red bull put max and checo on the red bull can. this season at the start it was just max on the red bull can. well. now checo has reappeared on the cans too. and i will tell you what i think this means. it means that checo is not getting swapped this season, which was a possibility for awhile. 

but! there is more! 

daniel ricciardo made an instagram post this week. and it was very interesting. but most interestingly he was wearing a red bull hat.

which he does occasionally, no big deal really. he did race for the for several years, he technically does currently. BUT then he showed up TO THE PADDOCK wearing the red bull hat.

which is Big Interesting. usually you show up in a statement outfit or wearing the team kit. and daniel is not a red bull racing driver. he is a visa cashapp racing bulls driver. they might be owned by red bull but they are Not the same team. so why the red bull hat. in the paddock. well, the rumor is that hes taking checos seat for 2025. and the rumor is that this will be announced before mexico. so checo can have a proper send off. 

and with that. the baku lore. 

theres a lot that has happened at baku. as i said its a street circuit. and i think its the fastest street circuit. but over the years theres been some notable events. 

such as the great kimi raikkonen radio for gloves and steering wheel:

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they gave mini kimi this week gloves and steering wheel in honor of that

the max and daniel crash in 2018 when they were running p1 and p2 respectfully

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and of course. how could we forget. charles’s infamous “i am stupid” radio.

speaking of charles, he crashed again in fp1. not quite in the same spot, but nearly. he took a picture with the marshalls. 

then in fp2 he rage quit, basically saying that the car sucks. 

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but he was back and better than ever in practice three because he managed to top the time charts. welcome back fuck ass ferrari.

some other teams definitely experienced the lows but not really the highs of baku during practice. like lance stroll who came on the radio to say “this is not a car” (good thing they have adrian newey now, right? 

franco colapinto also cut his ear before practice on the neck strengthener stretcher thing that they all use and the team wanted to give him stitches but he was like no no no i need to be in the car in about 5 minutes im not doing that. so he jammed on his helmet and jumped in the car. he also crashed and when he went to the medical center he took off his helmet and there was blood everywhere and they were like no no no you cannot race! and he was like no! this is not from the crash! and then explained it and they let him do qualifying. 

also im pretty sure? ollie bearman crashed? in practice? but frankly i don't have time to google it so whos to say. 

but alas. qualifying. 

i know i know this is kind of a shitty update. i promise ill go all out in singapore. i PROMISE. 

so as i said. its a street circuit. high speed. 90 degree corners. and also windy as hell. we also had the dynamic duo of karun and harry in the commentary box. 

max led the first practice, george led the second and i think charles led the third. or some order like that. 

slipstream here is almost essential (slipstream: going behind another car to reduce the wind drag so you can go faster) 

charles has the last three pole positions (first in qualifying) here in baku, but he has never won. by comparison, red bull have never had pole here but they have won. 

and franco has never been to baku before. 

i think that's all the exposition that we need here. 

q1 started with max complaining about his car. “the car is jumping around like crazy on the rear axle” he said. despite this he was sitting in p3. 

the mid field battle though….the mid field battle was heating the hell up. mostly because none other than franco colapinto, who if you will remember, has never been to baku before, had split the two ferraris. he was in third for the moment, .109 seconds behind carlos sainz and .159 seconds ahead of charles leclerc. we still had a lot of qualifying left to go, so this was probably not going to stay, but it was still insane. he was pushing insanely hard, nearly kissing the walls. clearly he had learned from his crash in practice. 

the two mclarens waited until the very end of q1 to do their final flying push lap, and oscar made it through, but tragedy struck for lando. 

lando was in the middle of his last flying lap, time was ticking down, and there was a Very Brief yellow flag on the track. now, according to rules, you cannot complete your flying lap if there is a yellow flag. so lando pitted and was stuck down in 17th and out of qualifying. this would be the first time that he was out in q1 since vegas last year (which if i remember correctly was also not his fault) 

now though, of course nothing is ever that cut and dry. people thought that there had been a mis showing of a flag. yellow flag means that a car is stopped on track, white flag means that a car is going slowly on the track. and people thought that there had been a yellow flag shown when it was actually supposed to be a white flag (if there had been a white flag then lando would have been able to keep doing his flying lap) lando himself said that he had no idea what people were talking about because there is a light on the steering wheel that lights up when flags are called and he had a big yellow light. so it was clearly a yellow flag. 

if you're concerned about lando being able to pull it out of the bag, id like to point you in the direction of the mexican gp last year where lando qualified 17th and finished 5th. on a track that was hard to overtake on. he can be absolutely insane when he wants to be. worry not gentle reader. 

in any case. also out in q1 was daniel ricciardo, valtteri bottas, zhou guanyu and esteban ocon.

and notably, williams, who was on fucking fire this weekend as we already saw, finished q1 with alex albon in second (ahead of oscar) and franco colapinto in 8th. pierre gasly had somehow managed to also get into 4th. and nico hulkenberg was in 7th with ollie bearman in 13th. i told you the mid field battle was heating the hell up. 

q2. everyone zoomed straight out of the gate. they didn't want to get lando norris’d. but, speaking of that, if lando managed to get no points in the race and charles managed to win, charles would overtake lando in the drivers championship. mark webber himself told this to charles, who was absolutely baffled. 

in any case, charles was kinda suffering right now and that was because he was not getting slipstream from carlos to make his lap faster. meanwhile, carlos seemed to be actively trying to give charles the slipstream because he came on radio to say “he keeps missing the tow” 

and amazingly, franco colapinto was 4 tenths AHEAD of alex albon. alex albon who had not been unqualified by his teammate once since the start of 2023. ex red bull driver alex albon. that alex albon. 

max topped the times in q2, followed immediately by charles. insanely, fernando alonso managed to drag the aston martin to fifth. and franco was right behind him in 6th. by comparison alex albon was in 10th. 

and from q2 we lost ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda (who has never qualified lower than 8th in baku), pierre gasly, nico hulkenberg and lance stroll. so yes, ollie bearman managed to outqualify nico hulkenberg. this is ollies second ever f1 race. 

steaming on forward to q3. 

we had, for review, in q3 the following: 

both ferraris, both red bulls, both mercedes, both WILLIAMS (has not happened since vegas 2023), plus fernando alonso and oscar piastri. 

right out the gate it was wild. 

“red bull! theyve re found their mojo! or have they!” karun said. red bull were in 5th and 6th and not entirely sucking for the moment. 

everyone did one flyer and then came out at the end for a second flyer. 

here were the standings: 

charles, carlos, oscar, george, checo, max, lewis, alex, franco, fernando

and everyone was making it to the line and all was going smooth until-

wait a second what is that

could it be! alex albon! with the air box fan still on his car! surely not!!!

oh but it was! and harry and karun were like oh wow so unfortunate for williams tisk tisk

meanwhile ted jumped on the radio to Loudly announce to everyone that this was insane and if i have time here i will put the rant he ranted cause it was Fantastic.

and what do you know i have time

so we had 3 minutes left qualifying and everyone was pulling out of the pits for their last flyer when oscar hopped on the radio to say

"the williams still has the air box fan in"

"oh what an error! disaster for williams!" karun and harry said. they speculated if the marshalls could get it or if the session needed to be red flagged. but alex threw the fan off the car.

and then they asked "ted have you ever seen that before?" and ted did not hold back:

"ITS A MASSIVE YELLOW FAN HOW COULD YOU MISS IT???!!! HOW COULD THE MECHANICS MISS IT???? I CANT BELIVE THEY WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE DOWN AT WILLIAMS! SUCH AN EXPERIENCED BUNCH OF GUYS AND GIRLS! WHAT IS GOING ON AT WILLIAMS OPERATIONALLY? HOW COULD YOU SEND A CAR OUT LIKE THAT?"

alex, obviously, got fined for an unsafe release 5k euros. he also had to throw the fan off to the side and got slightly covered in dry ice. he did not get to the a second flying lap. 

franco did tho!

and here were out qualifying results: 

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: checo p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: fernando p9: franco p10: alex  p11: ollie p12: yuki p13: pierre p14: nico p15: lance p16: daniel  p17: lando p18: valtteri p19: zhou p20: esteban 

oh ho ho but we werent done yet. because pierre gasly got disqualified from qualifying. for failing fuel flow regulations. and lewis was going to have to start from the pit lane for changing his power unit. 

everyone, and by everyone i mean oscar max and checo, pretty much said that charles was going to get pole no matter what, they knew this coming in and the best they were trying for was second

onto the race. 

notably, this is considered a checo track. this was one of the three races that max did not win last year. because checo won it. its a track that he does well on, evidenced by the fact that he qualified above max in qualifying. so people were expecting big things from him.

and so, we head into lap 1.

charles managed to hang onto the lead. checo passed carlos straight out of the gate for third and max managed to pass george to take fifth. lando had managed to get ahead of nico and up into 13th. notably, franco held onto 8th and ollie was able to hold onto tenth. 

someone who was not doing well was lance stroll, who came on the radio saying that he had a puncture. this was from contact with yuki. lance had to pit for fresh tires and was pretty immediately thrown to the back of the grid. 

by lap 2 lando had managed to get past daniel and was in 12th, he was trying to get past yuki next, which he managed by lap 3. yuki also lost a  spot to nico. 

also slaying in the mclaren was oscar, who took fastest lap. then charles took fastest lap.

and lewis hamilton, who had started from the pit lane, was up to 16th. already. somehow. though he was displeased with the tires, sayig that “this tire is pretty bad” over the radio. 

yuki meanwhile was clearly having a problem because he had started going very very slowly. thought the pit wall said that he had no problems. this would later turn out to be false but we will indulge them for the time being. 

franco was STILL ahead of alex albon on lap 6. STILL. 

lando on lap 8 managed to push his way into points positions, overtaking ollie bearman for 10th. though this was where things were about to slow down for him because in front of him were alex, franco and fernando, who were all very close together and would be hard to get past. 

george was back in bad luck hell as a plastic bag entered his airbox. will he ever catch a break. 

on lap 11 nico hulkenberg finally caught up with ollie bearman and passed him for 11th. 

and max’s car was not working. to potentially no one’s surprise. “i have zero bite in the car” he said. and this was probably true because checo was a whole 6.5 seconds ahead of him. insane gap. 

several pit stops later that i will not detail out because we simply do not have the time, alex albon ended up in 4th and lando ended up in fifth. and oscar was about to get undercut by checo. 

“mojo seems to be back for checo perez” harry said, correctly. 

mojo was back for him indeed. and now he was right behind lando. 

and if you will recall, according to mclaren themselves, priority at mclaren is the team first, then oscar, then lando. but oscar was ahead of lando. so what did mclaren do? 

they asked lando do hold up perez, but not compromise his own race. 

remever a long time ago when i said mclaren wouldn't have any internal drama this season? man how i was wrong.

lando managed to hold up perez for around a lap or two before he got past. this was crucial because this was during when oscar was in the pits. 

thanks to lando and the power of the papaya rules teamwork, oscar ended up coming out in 4th, only .706s ahead of checo. 

mclaren are working together everyone! mclaren are working together!

meanwhile, turns out that yuki did indeed have problems because he retired on lap 17 with a hole in his sidepod from the contact with lance on lap 1. this was now two races in a row where he had had to retire for reasons out of his control. 

several more people pitted. and eventually charles was back out in front, oscar was in p2. until he wasn't. no, he didn't dnf. he overtook charles! he was in p1! he popped out of nowhere! nowhere being 2 car lengths back and just flooring it to spring around charles like a little silly slinky! karun called it a “good, fair and robust defense,” which sounds like its descibing notes in wine. but this was not wine. this was the baku gp. and we were only half done. 

ollie bearman was defending against lewis hamilton, holding on tightly to 14th place. 

charles was still behind oscar and he could not get past, despite the fact that he was still very much in spitting distance. “they are pushing like crazy or they have more grip than us” he said. 

carlos got past both lando and alex albon and was up into 4th

this brought max up behind lando. max was on 11 lap old tires and lando was on 24 lap old tires. but lando still defended like hell and managed to hold onto sixth. max was 0.632 seconds behind lando on lap 25 when he said that “my brakes are not working.” this was hardly a surprise. max has hated the car since china.

also experiencing technical difficulties was sir lewis hamilton. he was stuck down in 14th and was first told to do “everything you can do to get the surface temp down” of the tires. he said “im trying” then several laps later on lap 29 he came on the radio to say “are you seeing how i have to drive this thing?” “yes,” bono, his engineer said. “quite effective though.” 

max was still half a second behind lando. mclaren faked a pit stop call over the radio to get max to pit. he did not. 

but, george russell did manage to pass him. which was “not good for max’s world champion aspirations.”

this was also when ted very bafflingly said that “if i had a sofa in the pit lane i would be jumping up and down on it” im not sure what that was in response to. 

meanwhile, ollie was still holding off sir lewis hamilton. and charles was trying to get oscar to pit again by lying over the radio. it was not working. 

lando did a pit stop finally and came out a whole 15 second behind max. he was hoping to catch max by the end of the race. but it might be tight. lets go last lap lando. 

“lando, imagine andrea on your shoulder saying ‘zero wheel spin’ in every exit,” lando’s race engineer said. if you're confused, everyone else was too. 

10 laps to go and here were the order of affairs:

oscar

+.449s charles +1.865s checo +2.989s carlos +16.530s george  +1.909s max +11.535s lando +9.715s fernando +2.589s alex +2.451s nico +4.667s franco +1.590s lewis +1.261s ollie +1.791s pierre +9.205s daniel +23.919s esteban  +.789s lance +3.862s valtteri +3.631s guanyu 

lando was determined. he took fastest lap on lap 43 and was 8.8s behind max

at this point, the leaders were starting to lap the cars in the back. “the back markers are starting to come up,” checo’s engineer said to him. “its going to get messy.”

“hold onto your hats and if you don't have one go get one and hold onto it” harry said. harry would turn out to be correct. 

we had the top 3 all running very close to eachother, that was oscar, charles and checo and “welcome to the party carlos sainz!” who was now 1.2 seconds behind checo in the four way battle for the lead.

definitely not leading was lance stroll, who retired on lap 47 with a brake problem. 

oscar managed to pull ahead of charles by 1.5 seconds, finally knocking him out of DRS range. so now it was a three way battle for second. and charles had “no rear tires. no rear tires at all.” 

and, just like i said he would, lando managed to pass max on lap 49. he was closing the gap slowly in the championship. 

“verstappen’s day goes from bad to worse,” harry said. because lando still had fastest lap, so he would score 3 more points than max. which is important if lando wants to beat max in the championship (though i think hes still like 60 points behind)

meanwhile! franco managed to pass nico hulkenberg for 10th! he was in the points!!!! at his second race!!! 

but this was short lived because there was a crash! a big smackeroo! between carlos and checo!! checo was mad, carlos didn't know what happened. 

what happened was that carlos was trying to pass checo but checo did not move over. it was deemed an equal fault accident. both of them were utterly confused at what happened and apparently spent 20 minutes in the medical center being utterly lost and aparently saying that sometimes this sport sucks. and! contrary to what several people said! checo did not bang on carlos’s helmet after the crash. 

the crash actually caused chef's dad to have a heart attack. he is stable now.

and well. this clip of george from the post qualifying interviews definitely didnt age well:

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but! since we were a matter of a few laps from the end, this meant that the rest of the race was finished under a virtual safety car. 

which meant 

OSCAR PIASTRI WINS THE AZERBAIJAN GP

and george inherited p3! 

and on his own merit too! no safety cars, no team orders, no weird shit! 

“yes!” he whispered over the radio. 

he almost fell getting out of the car, then gave us all the “one moment” hand gesture before properly celebrating. 

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he also got driver of the day! 

(this was marginally better than george russell, who said over the radio “i cant get any rubber (to pick up on his tires) all im getting is leaves”)

gunther steiner also hosted the post race interviews. which was interesting. 

george said that the most difficult part of the race was “driving full gas into a wall of carbon fiber on the penultimate lap…the vsc should have come out sooner” 

charles bashed ferrari because they didn't do any high fuel runs in practice. 

oscar was entirely pleased. “i managed to overtake and hold onto it for the next 35 laps..one of the better races of my career.” and honestly, oscar winning a race straight after mclaren basically announcing that he was their number 2 driver is nothing short of hilarious.

and! mclaren was now leading the constructors championship by 20 points! for the first time in ten years!!!!

the top three had a moment outside of the car that was filled with baffled: 

and oscar's engineer tom got to stand on the podium with him. he usually takes a selfie with oscar after each race he podiums at, but he was too excited to so george took this picture for them

(george also aparently demomished oscar in a game of uno on the plane, immediately humbling him)

george also shielded himself from the champagne on the podium

the cooldown room reacted to the crash in a very straight forward manner:

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and very quickly cause its midnight and the singapore gp starts in 8 hours, the post race, speed ran: 

-mark webber told off laura winter for thinking that oscar didn't have good tire management

-alex albon was “super happy, that's a lot of points for us” (williams finished in 7th and 8th). he cut his own interview short when ollie bearman arrived, saying “I can go, im happy to go” and then waving comically. 

-williams was so pleased with this result they blasted everyone with champagne. and they overtook alpine in the constructors championship! this was also their best race finish all season

-(and a quick note, if youre going to really blame logan for being that shit of a driver here, please remember that the car he was driving was several rounds of upgrades behind alex's pretty much the entire time he was driving it)

-ollie became the first driver to ever score points in his first two races for two different constructors because the double dnf pushed him up to 10th place. he said that there was not much difference between the haas and the ferrari, the ferrari was just red

-franco continued to charm everyone and flirt with the reporters. 

-they interviewed george and lewis and the camera had to be adjusted for george's height. it was comical and resulted in my favorite edit so far of the season (sound on)

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-lando looked pleased and happy for once. he said about holding off checo that “i didn't hold him up i just had to cool my tires a little.” he was delighted to be leading the constructors for the first time in ten years and he defended alex albon saying “i struggled to get past alex for a while, which is common, alex doesnt make mistakes.” he also ratted on max for going to fast during the VSC and said “i didn't complain, facts were stated.” and to sum it all up he said that “im executing things well, i’m very quick…i’m not going to be the happiest guy, but i am never the happiest guy….car is performing well everywhere…some red cars behind us seem to be our biggest competitors right now” 

-by comparison george insulted all of pirelli. the tire people. “pretty infuriating that it (the pace) changes this so much….its black magic, people who make the tires don't understand the tires…..for 20 laps we had a car not worthy of points and for 20 laps we had a car fighting for victory and the only difference is the tires.” 

-lewis was notably upset after the race and walked through the paddock with his helmet on, not wanting to talk to anyone. but he did talk to franco and ollie and congratulate them on a job well done defending against him and racing against him. franco even fangirled over this on his instagram. 

-charles was clearly upset with ferrari. he was so upset he posted a thirst trap.

-and oscar. oscar was very happy this afternoon. and his mom was there! she doesnt usually come cause it scares her, but nicole was there today! 

-mclaren celebrated with a hell of a lot of champagne. both oscar’s wina and lando’s insane recovery, and the fact that they were leading the championship. red bull have been dethroned, at least for now. 

-there was so much champagne that lando took off his socks to spray it. all seems well at mclaren. 

-at least one thing is for sure, oscar had a better time here this weekend than last year when he got food poisoning and only ate four pieces of toast

and with that. we head into singapore. quite literally as it is starting in a few hours. again, i apologixe about this post. its a little sad, but the next one will be better. pinkly promise. 

see you all soon!!!

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

BTS! Mafia - They Are the Rival Boss Who Likes You (pt. 1)

Request: they rescue you from your abusive boyfriend who is the boss of the rival gang (This request came in over a year ago by anon but thank you so much, I love this idea - it kept me up at night - and I am so sorry it took me so long to write it!)

A/N: I had no one specific in mind when I wrote Kang; the name was chosen solely for the purpose of not having to write B/N all the time. This will get a pt. 2 or it may become even a tiny mini-series, so any ideas for the continuation are welcome!

Warnings: mentions of abuse and violence

MASTERLIST

Backstory:

You have been dating Kang for more than two years and in the beginning, he was perfect. He was sweet and a gentleman but the longer you stayed together, the more you began to see the other side of him. Kang was always angry or upset, always finding something he disliked about you. He grew more jealous and insecure by the day, even having his men follow you secretly sometimes. It escalated to the point where Kang would raise his voice and threaten you regularly. It happened only moments before you had to attend a benefit with your boyfriend. You had an argument where you tried to make Kang see reason about ending your relationship, but he took your arm and pulled you to him, his eyes blind with insecurity. "You are not leaving me," Kang growled against your face as he held your arm tight enough to break it with a single move. "Ever."

* * *

Jin

You accepted a glass of champagne from one of the waiters, finding your reflection in one of the decorative mirrors. The black evening gown with long sleeves that hid your bruise you wore was stunning yet you felt anything but. These past few months took a toll on both your mental as well as physical health but you could not see a way out.

You found Kang's reflection behind yours, his back turned to you as he laughed with some of his wealthy benefactors.

"You look beautiful," said someone out of the sudden. You turned around coming face to face with none other than Kim Seokjin. Your eyes widened in surprise. You knew him - you remembered him because you spoke at the last benefit. When Kang learned of it however, he threatened that you should never to speak to him again or there would be consequences. Jin was Kang's biggest rival.

The sweet smile on Kim's lips disappeared slowly when you did not say anything. You were taken aback by the warmth of his presence and the kindness of his smile after the evening you have had.

"Thank you," you managed at last, your fingers cold with sweat as you glanced over in your boyfriend's direction. The shadow of his frame stepped out on the terrace for a cigar with his colleagues and you breathed more easily.

You had not noticed but Kim's gaze followed yours out on the terrace before you looked back into his dark eyes. Your body trembled. You are never leaving me. Ever.

"Are you alri—"

"Help me."

The two of you spoke at the same time, your voice hushed as you began to feel tears creep into your eyes. Your gaze was locked with Kim's. You saw the way he looked at you at the last benefit, how his eyes lingered on you even when you were in the company of your boyfriend. He stayed at the events all the while you stayed although all of his friends have already left only so that the three of you could wait for your cars together. Kim did not say anything but it could not have been a coincidence.

You looked away, blinking back the tears. You found yourself embarrassed - what did you think would happen; he would help you out of the goodness of his heart and risk a falling out between the companies?

"I'm sorry," you shook your head and offered Jin a small smile, in disbelief with yourself of how silly you were.

You placed down your champagne and made to get some air.

"Meet me at the fountain in five minutes," spoke Jin discretely as he passed you by, giving no indication to anyone who could be watching that he said anything at all.

You froze, your gaze locked on his back as he walked away, your heart in your throat. The heat of adrenaline flushed through your body when you looked around the venue of merry guests. You took a fresh glass of champagne before your eyes met your boyfriend's across the dance floor. He rose his glass of scotch to you only slightly, a smile on his lips although his eyes were cold and insecure. You mimicked the gesture and smiled as best you could before greeting one of the wives of the benefactors. You soon excused yourself and walked outside, placing the untouched glass of champagne on the stone fence. You glanced behind you but there wasn't a soul.

You walked down to the fountain holding up the skirt of your dress. The heels nearly made you trip, not because you struggled to walk in them but because your entire body trembled with fear and adrenaline.

"Come," you heard Kim's voice out of nowhere. He was suddenly beside you, his large hand barely brushing against your back as he led you to a car that has been waiting. You sat in without hesitation after Kim held the door for you and he took the driver's seat. You did not ask where he was taking you, but anywhere would be better than returning home with Kang. You did not want to imagine what that would be like.

You followed Jin into the elevator that took you to the top of a large skyscraper. There was security on every corner on the way up, making you uneasy. They seemed like the kind of men that Kang would order to follow you.

"Are these your men?" you asked when the two of you reached a pair of doors. Two men stood opposite it, clad in all black with a bulletproof vest and some sort of firearm in their hands.

Jin glanced at the men, following your gaze. "They are," he confirmed and typed in the security code for the door. "They are loyal men," he added as if he could hear your thoughts.

You nodded as Kim let you inside of his apartment. It was vast and minimalist with a warm shade of white predominating, making the rooms bright and inviting although it had began to rain outside.

You took off your heels, now standing much shorter next to Kim. The reality of it all hit you like a brick.

"What will happen now?" you asked, looking up at Jin. You thought of Kang, of their business and the rivalry, how this would be seen as a betrayal of the already fragile peace ...

"Nothing," said Jin lightly as if what happened from now on was not your problem to solve.

Kim took off the jacket of his tuxedo and placed it neatly over one of the kitchen chairs.

"Are you hungry?"

Namjoon

The benefit was held at a beautiful country manor but you could not care for the rose bushes or the crystal chandeliers. You had snuck out to escape your boyfriend and his band of colleagues. Kang often teased you and spoke badly about you in front of his friends, then tried to convince you how it was all in your head, the way he treated you. You could not stand another evening like that, not after everything that had already happened before you even came to the benefit.

You ran your fingers across your elbow absent-mindedly as you leaned against the stone fence of the staircase that led to the manor. For a long time, there wasn't a soul until you head the click of a lighter and the inhale of smoke. You turned around, recognizing a familiar dark figure near the side entrance. The man inhaled, the tip of the cigarette lighting up as he stepped out of the shadows. It was Kim Namjoon. You heard of him long before you met him yourself at one of these sort of events. He was the leader of Kang's rival company and the man your boyfriend despised most in the world.

You looked away quickly, pretending to look at the moonlit gardens of the country manor. You had spoken once or twice to Mr Kim yourself. He was nothing short of a gentleman but you thought Kang was a gentleman too at first.

"Not enjoying yourself?" asked Mr Kim as he came over to you. The smoke of his cigarette followed him, mingled with the scent of his perfume. Your stomach was already in knots from your argument with Kang; you could not even imagine what he would do to you if he found out you had spoken to Kim again.

"What is there to enjoy?" you whispered to yourself, looking down at the stone fence. Kim's gaze studied you, you could feel it burning into your body. He smiled at first - he hated these kinds of events too. They were dull and nothing but false pretenses but they were a part of the job. And yet the smile drained from his eyes.

"Do you need some help?" asked Kim darkly, his question surprising you. You looked up into his eyes as they shifted between your arm and your gaze. You wore a beautiful one-sleeved dress that hugged your body only that the sleeve was on the wrong arm.

In an instant your eyes filled with tears although you had not as much as missed to smile once all evening. You looked away embarrassed.

"What could you possibly do?" you asked not unkindly, your voice cracking with hopelessness.

Kim took one last drag from his cigarette and flicked it over the fence. He took your palm as he exhaled, leading you to the parking lot with him. Kim only needed to raise his hand toward the valet and they brought over his car.

"Get in," said Kim gently as he quickly opened the door for you. You stared at him astounded before you got in, glancing over your shoulder if your boyfriend or one of his men noticed you leaving. There was nothing there but the sound of laughter echoing from inside the manor.

"It's safe here," said Kim when the two of you walked across the lobby of an apartment building. There were guards everywhere holding heavy weapons.

"What is this place?" you asked warily as the elevator door opened to introduce another smaller hall with a pair of doors protected with a safety code.

"It's my apartment," said Kim, typing in the code and opening the door for you. You hesitated, your gaze freezing on Namjoon. He of all people knew what this would mean for him, for his business. He turned to you when you did not follow him inside.

"Are you sure?" you asked. Kim could have just dropped you off at a train station and be rid of you - why take you to his apartment and exposing himself?

"I'm sure," said Namjoon, not a hint of a doubt in his dark eyes.

Yoongi

Kang's hand rested tightly on your waist as you were forced to entertain his benefactors and their wives. Benefits like this were far from uncommon, a charitable cause more often than not serving as a cover for the dealings that really went on.

Simply holding a glass of champagne and keeping your arm tense made the pain in your elbow worsen. You wore a black couture gown with beautiful puffy sleeves of white silk that covered the dark bruise in the shape of Kang's fingerprints.

You tried to smile politely and keep your calm but every once in a while your brows would fall and hopelessness would creep into your eyes. You looked around the luxurious venue, seeing many familiar faces, most of them Kang's colleagues. As your gaze began to drift back to your interlocutors, it returned to familiar dark eyes. You knew those eyes. They belonged to Min Yoongi. You met him some months ago when he attended one of these events for the first time in a while but never missed one since. After Kang learned that you talked, he threatened to break every bone in your body if you did so again. Min was one of is greatest rivals.

You looked down at your champagne. The drink was only getting warm in your hands as you were not in the mood to drink or anything else for that matter. You did not know what it was but seeing Min and the way that his dark eyes found you in that crowd was the last straw. Tears pushed into your eyes and threatened to fall.

You excused yourself to use the ladies' room, Kang's hand reluctantly letting go of your waist. You wanted to keep your gaze on the floor but as you passed by Min your eyes locked with his. The scent of his fragrance lingered on you after you walked past him. You made for the ladies room, your eyes watering with hot tears and making you walk even faster before anyone could see you cry. But a hand caught your wrist as you passed by the open terrace, pulling you out into the fresh air.

A soft gasp escaped your lips when you looked up, coming face to face with Min Yoongi.

"What are you doing?" you asked quickly as you shook your head.

"Why are you crying?" asked Min, the smile fading from his eyes.

"What?" You had not even noticed that the tears had slipped down your cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" repeated Min, his voice growing darker but his hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs brushed away the tears.

"I'm not," you insisted although your chin quivered and your eyes watered once more. You looked down embarrassed, then glanced over your shoulder quickly if your boyfriend had come to look for you already.

"I have to go," you whispered and slipped from his arms. Yoongi caught your elbow, not ready to let you go without an answer. His eyes widened when you whimpered and pulled your arm from his gentle grasp. He had barely touched you. That is when his sharp black eyes noticed the hint of a dark bruise beneath the puffy white sleeve of your dress.

"I'm sorry," you shook your head, "I really have to go." Your voice was but a whisper as your chin quivered yet again with the threat of tears.

"I'm glad we agree," said Yoongi somberly, his fingers locking with yours. He led you across the garden to the parking lot where the valet brought his car.

"What are you doing?" you asked as Yoongi held the door of his car for you. He froze at the sight of your eyes full of tears looking up at him. His hand reached for your face once again, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped your eye.

"Taking you away from someone who doesn't deserve you."

Hoseok

You wore a pale pink satin dress that your boyfriend picked out for the benefit. Although the dress looked stunning on you, if you could have chosen for yourself, the gown would have been black to reflect your spirits. Kang had your hand wrapped around his elbow when you arrived but was soon distracted by other women and his colleagues, leaving you alone. In truth, you preferred it that way. You could not stop thinking about what it will be like when you return home after the benefit. Your elbow was sore enough that it was a struggle even to fix the hem of your dress or simply hold a champagne glass.

You slipped away into the garden and found a lonesome bench where you sat down. You downed the glass of champagne but it did nothing to dull your pain, particularly not that which you felt in your heart. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind; how your relationship began and how sweet Kang was at first. But once you realized his true self it was already too late.

"Hello," greeted a gentle voice, nonetheless it made you wince. You looked up, recognizing the man in front of you.

"I apologize," said Jung Hoseok, "I didn't mean to scare you." He sat down on the bench beside you unobtrusively.

"It's alright," you said more to yourself than to him. You could not hide the sadness on your face and you did not try to. You were just so tired.

"I haven't seen you in a while," you said to Mr Jung, trying to distract yourself from all the horrible things on your mind.

You had spoken once or twice at these sort of things and when you did not have a chance to, you at least greeted each other with your eyes although you often felt Jung's on you long after you had already focused on the people talking to you. You would never disclose to Kang though that you had spoken to Jung Hoseok. You often heard Kang talk about Hoseok with despise as they were rivals. At first you thought Mr Jung's interest in you was on the account of your boyfriend but he never brought up business or even Kang for that matter when he spoke to you.

"I was busy," said Jung with a small smile. His warm gaze cooled when he saw the look in your eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, studying your expression. You savored what little warmth remained in his gaze a moment longer, not even recalling when was the last time someone asked you that.

You nodded and offered him a reassuring smile although tears forced into your eyes. You tried to blink them away but when you couldn't you turned away, focusing on the garden in the distance.

"Tell me," asked Jung but you shook your head, swallowing back the tears that lingered in your throat.

"I can't," you whispered and did the mistake of looking Hoseok in the eye. He saw the tears that stung your cheeks. His brows fell heavy onto his eyes, his lips in a firm line.

"Just say the word, Y/N," said Hoseok. You looked at him astounded. He could not have known what has been going on and yet he did.

"Please," you whispered and it was enough. Jung's fingers locked with yours as he took you away from the benefit and your boyfriend.

Jimin

As Kang drove to the benefit he sped all the way because he knew it scared you when he did so. You did not say anything, you did not plead because it would only encourage him. Your eyes often filled with tears but you would not let them fall.

You fixed your fitted black gown with puffy see-through sleeves as you exited the car, the valet holding the door open for you. You held a small purse in one hand, Kang's fingers locking with those of your other palm. His grip was so tight you thought he meant to crush your bones.

As you walked up the elegant staircase of the country manor, you saw your boyfriend's greatest rival leaning against the marble fence whilst he spoke to one of his closest colleagues. Yet as you climbed the staircase, Park Jimin's gaze tore from his friend and fixed on you. His lips parted slightly as he took in the elegance that radiated off of you. You had spoken one time at a similar event and ran into him when you were shopping alone once. He was always nothing but a gentleman to you and yet so was Kang when you first met him. There was something different about Park though - a warmth in his eyes that you never saw in Kang.

You dared not look in Park Jimin's direction for more than a moment, already dreading going home with Kang later without him thinking you were fraternizing with his enemy.

Once inside, Kang went to get the two of you champagne. You flexed your numb fingers, a redness forming around your palm where his squeeze was tightest. You glanced around the venue, finding Mr Park's eyes already on you. His gaze shifted from your palm to your face when he saw your eyes turned to him. A frown framed his dark gaze before you looked away, accepting the glass of champagne from your boyfriend. His arm went to your waist and made you wince almost unnoticeably as you feared his hand might travel even lower. The last thing you wanted in that moment was for anyone to touch you but you had no choice. You stood by Kang's side, thinking of ways to convince him that your relationship was doomed, but his words kept surfacing in your memory. You are never leaving me. Ever.

You excused yourself to visit the ladies' room - the only place you could go without Kang's gaze torturing you. You walked across the venue, placing your empty champagne glass on one of the empty trays on the way. As you turned the corner to the ladies' room, you nearly bumped into someone. You stumbled back but a pair of hands secured you. You gasped as one of those hands wrapped around your sore elbow, quickly pulling away as your own hand went to the injured joint. Everything happened in the passing of a second. When you finally managed to look up you saw none other than Park Jimin in front of you.

Your wide gaze locked with his formidable frown but all words were knocked out of you.

"Excuse me," you managed at last and tried to make your way past Mr Park but his fingers caught your wrist gently. Your eyes met yet again, your own gaze blurred with tears. You barely knew Park and yet you felt as if you had been friends for years. It was as if you could not hide anything from him, nor wanted to for that matter.

"Just say the word Y/N and I will make it all go away," Jimin said to you and you alone as other people passed by.

"What?" you stuttered, staring up into his dark eyes.

"Kang," said Jimin. Your lips parted when you saw that he knew - but how could he have found out?

Your chin quivered at the realization that you were no longer alone, that you were not the only one who knew what Kang was really like. You could not hold back the tears any longer.

"Please, just ..." you began but your voice cracked. It was enough though. Park's fingers locked with yours as he led you through the side entrance down to the parking lot. You sat into his car and he drove away, leaving the benefit and your boyfriend miles behind you.

Taehyung

You managed to escape from your boyfriend's view under the excuse of using the ladies' room, but you desperately needed to get some air. His constant touch on your hand or your waist disgusted you. You could not bear it any longer.

You slipped through the back door that opened into the parking lot for staff and caterers. You leaned against the cool stone wall by the door and closed your eyes. The cold air of the night filled your lungs and cleared your head but also triggered a wave of hot tears to force into your eyes now that you were finally alone. You blinked slowly, pushing them back for the most part. You dabbed what left of them with the knuckle of your index, hoping you had not damaged your make up and made it known that you had been crying.

The back door opened again, a dark figure emerging outside. A cigarette hung from the man's lips as he lit it up and savored a long-awaited drag of smoke. You recognized him - the back of his head, his wide shoulders but what made you sure it was him was the hand he hid in the pocket of his trousers. Kim Taehyung turned around. He could feel someone's gaze burn into his back. He took the cigarette from his mouth when he saw you, his lips parting and his eyes unmoving.

You offered him a small smile but did not trust your voice to hold up. You did not know who Kim was for a long time yet you always managed to speak to one another at these sort of events - that is, until your boyfriend found out. He told you in a rage that you have been flirting with his greatest rival, although Kang's words had only half the truth. You never flirted with Kim; you would never do that you your boyfriend - whoever he was or how bad the relationship might have gotten. But ever since Kang's outburst you did not even dare look in Kim Taehyung's direction, much less speak to him. You were already threading on thin ice with Kang.

You hugged your arms and looked away when Kim did not say anything. He must have forgotten ever even speaking to you, you thought. Kim's eyes lingered on you, however, as he took another drag of smoke from his cigarette before flicking it away absently.

"What's that?" asked Kim, breathing out the smoke as he gestured his hand to your body. Your eyebrows rose as he caught you off guard with his question. You looked down at your sliver satin dress but quickly found what Kim was looking at. You had not even noticed it yourself; you thought it would be at least a day before it showed properly - the bruise around your elbow that Kang gave you before the benefit.

Taehyung stepped closer to you and you would have backed away if you were not already pressed against the wall. Your lips parted as your eyes grew wide and your body tensed. Kim traced his fingers across the knuckles of yours that were hiding most of the bruise. His touch made you move your hand although the warmth of his closeness invited you and scared you at the same time.

"Nothing, I ... I fell," you lied, your voice small.

Standing up close, Taehyung could see the fingerprints stamped around your elbow. His dark frown rose to your eyes. You could not look away even if you wanted to; his gaze grounded you where you stood. Fever rushed to your cheeks when Kim rose his hand to your face. He brushed a stray tear from beneath your eye that you did not even know was there.

You looked away embarrassed. You were never one to feel sorry for yourself or even complain but the last few months have become unbearable. You were just waiting for your boyfriend to snap.

A shaky breath escaped your lungs as tears filled your eyes against your will. Your chin quivered and although you bit on your lip, the tears fell down your cheeks.

"You should come with me," said Kim. You looked up at him, your eyebrows frowning together.

"Where?" you whispered, shaking your head hopelessly.

"Away," said Kim.

Your gaze shifted between Taehyung's dark eyes. He smelled of cigarette smoke and perfume that began to cling on your skin as well.

You licked your dry lips and nodded, your gaze lowering to Kim's shirt.

Taehyung took your hand, his long fingers gently intertwining with yours as he led you to his car.

Jungkook

You stepped out of your boyfriend's car as the pair of you arrived at the benefit, fixing your off-the-sleeve black dress that hugged your figure. The valet closed the door behind you as your boyfriend already made his way up the elegant staircase without you. You looked up, the stairs seeming like Mount Everest to you. You gathered the skirt of your long evening dress and made your way after him.

"What took you so long?" said Kang, waiting for you by the door because he knew his benefactors liked talking to him more when you were on his arm.

Kang took your hand and led you through the venue, saying hello to everyone who had a moment's time. You offered them a smile and masked how you truly felt inside. You wanted to scream for help but you knew that even if you would beg everyone on their knees, no one would dare say a word to Kang.

Whilst your boyfriend talked to his colleagues, your thoughts and your gaze drifted across the venue. You did not know what you were looking for until you found it - a pair of dark eyes that belonged to Jeon Jungkook. He wore a tuxedo befitting to the occasion, a glass of whiskey in his hand. You had spoken here and there at these sort of events until your boyfriend noticed. You had not known it beforehand but Kang was sure to inform you you were talking to his biggest rival.

You tore your eyes away from Mr Jeon quickly, looking up at your boyfriend to see if his attention was on your gaze. He must have just made a joke for everyone in the circle began to laugh but you. Your boyfriend squeezed at your hips in front of everyone, everyone seeming to enjoy his actions as most of them were older men. You looked down at your champagne, feeling the redness in your cheeks. You could not understand why but your gaze instinctively searched for Jeon's in that moment yet he was nowhere to be seen.

Your stomach was still twisted into knots even as Kang joined his buddies for a cigar out on the back terrace.

A shaky breath escaped your lungs as you struggled to keep the tears that threatened into your eyes at bay. You sat down your glass of untouched champagne on one of the counters, needing to get some air. You walked down the front staircase, glancing over your shoulder for Kang but he was still laughing with his colleagues out on the back terrace.

You reached the bottom of the staircase, feeling as if you had just ran a marathon. Your breathing became heavy and your stomach turned as if a swarm of wasps had settled inside of it. You placed a hand over your chest, trying to calm yourself when a presence to your right suddenly made you stop breathing altogether.

A small gasp escaped your lips, your eyes wide as you expected to find your boyfriend beside you. It was not him however, but Jeon Jungkook. He was holding a cigarette between his fingers, a breath of smoke leaving his lips as his unmoving eyes locked on yours. His brows slowly fell into a heavy frown.

"What's wrong?" asked Jeon although he already had his answer. He wanted to hear it from you though.

If this were the first time you had spoken to him, the tone of his dark voice would have frightened you. But in that moment, it felt as if you were speaking to an old friend you had known but not seen in years.

You looked away as you felt the tears gather in your eyes then down at your elbow nestled in your crossed arms. A bruise was beginning to form around it in the shape of Kang's fingerprints.

"Can you help me?" you whispered as you found Jungkook's eyes one more time. He exhaled the cigarette smoke, studying you with his sharp unblinking gaze that seemed to hold warmth only when he was looking at you.

"Come," said Jungkook, flicking his cigarette away and led the way to his car. His hand gently brushed against your middle back to guide you but you took a step back instinctively, your wide eyes finding his. Jeon's lips parted slightly at the sight of your reaction. He did not say anything but only opened the door open for you, not attempting to touch you again however platonically intended.

You glanced over your shoulder one last time at the venue, somehow expecting one of Kang's men to be on your trail but they must all have been too busy smoking and drinking.

You got inside Jeon's car.

[mssalo]

safety - Part: III

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Panic episode/Paranoia, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, he sees stuff that isn't there, Mentions of war and combat-related trauma, Emotional manipulation, Power dynamics, Noncon/dubcon elements, Unstable mental state, Reader feeling conflicted. Joel needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

10k

Enjoy!

Part I Part II

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The soft afternoon sun filtered through your curtains as you did one last sweep of your small apartment, making sure everything was in place before heading out.

Your camping gear—neatly packed and checked twice—sat by the door, ready for another adventure.

This one felt different, though.

Maybe it was because you’d never gone so far out, or maybe because the spot had been suggested by Joel, the rugged, quiet man who came by at the supply store.

The thought of him made your stomach do a tiny flip, and you smiled to yourself, biting your lip.

Joel.

He was... intense, that was for sure.

Handsome in a way that took you by surprise—older, gruff, with that scruff on his jawline and those eyes that seemed to see right through you.

He’d been kind of closed off whenever you tried to talk to him, always giving short answers, but there was something about the way he looked at you.

You shook your head, grabbing your bag. Don’t get carried away.

Sure, he looked at you sometimes, his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary, but that didn’t mean anything.

You were probably imagining it. After all, he was always so reserved, so hard to read.

And you? Well, you were... you.

He probably thinks I’m just a kid, you thought with a small sigh.

Cute, maybe, but nothing more.

You laughed at yourself, shaking your head as the trees closed in around you.

Stop it. Focus on the trip.

You weren’t here to daydream about handsome older men—you were here to camp, to prove to yourself that you could handle this on your own.

He was just... nice, in his own way. That was all.

You couldn’t help but smile as you tossed your gear into the backseat and slid behind the wheel, already feeling the excitement buzzing in your chest.

The open road stretched ahead of you, leading to the spot Joel had mentioned—someplace out past the ridge, quiet and secluded. It sounded like heaven.

The drive was peaceful, your fingers tapping the steering wheel as the scenery shifted from city to countryside.

The trees seemed to grow taller as you left the main roads behind, the air turning cooler and cleaner with every passing mile. You loved this—the sense of leaving the noise behind, of stepping into a world that was all your own. Out here, you could breathe.

The road eventually narrowed into a dirt path, and your car rumbled over the uneven ground as you followed the directions Joel had given you.

The sunlight flickered through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor.

It was beautiful out here—quiet, untouched, with the kind of peace you could only find miles away from anyone else.

When you finally pulled into the small clearing, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Wow.

The space was perfect.

The trees formed a natural border around the clearing, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The ground was soft with pine needles, and the air smelled fresh and earthy, with just a hint of woodsmoke from somewhere far off.

You stepped out of the car, your boots crunching on the ground, and for a moment, you just stood there, taking it all in.

This is exactly what I needed.

You popped the trunk of your car, the warm breeze rustling through the trees as you grabbed your backpack and gear.

The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the clearing, but you had plenty of time to set everything up before dusk settled in.

With a smile tugging at your lips, you slung the pack over your shoulder and took a deep breath of the crisp, earthy air.

It smelled like pine and moss, with just a hint of the nearby sea.

Perfect.

First things first—the tent.

You dropped your backpack onto the ground and knelt beside it, unzipping the side pocket where you’d stashed the tent poles.

Your fingers brushed over the cool metal, and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you pulled them out.

These damn poles always give me trouble.

You spread the tent fabric over the grassy spot you’d chosen, carefully laying it flat and adjusting the corners.

The fabric crinkled under your touch, the sound almost lost in the hum of the wind and distant birdsong. The air was still, quiet, as if the forest itself was holding its breath while you worked.

With a determined sigh, you grabbed the poles and got to work.

The metal clinked softly as you tried to fit the pieces together, but as usual, they resisted you. You grumbled under your breath, fumbling with the last stubborn connection.

After a few minutes of struggling and a minor battle with the pole that just wouldn’t line up right, you finally secured the tent frame, the fabric puffing up as it took shape.

Not bad, you thought with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

The tent stood proudly in the clearing, and you wiped a bit of dirt off your hands, brushing them against your jeans.

You weren’t done yet, though.

With the tent in place, you moved on to your cooking supplies. You pulled out your small camp stove, some pots, and a few basic utensils, setting them neatly near the fire pit.

Everything had a place, and you liked knowing where everything was. Organization was important to you—it gave you a sense of control, made you feel prepared for anything.

It was comforting, like you were creating a little slice of order in the middle of the wilderness.

As you set down your cooking gear, your gaze flicked up toward the treeline, where you could just make out the glimmer of the sea through the trees.

The light reflected off the water like tiny diamonds, and you felt a pull in your chest, a desire to sink into that cool water after all your hard work.

Soon, you thought, grinning to yourself.

Just a little longer.

You double-checked your setup, making sure everything was where it needed to be.

The tent was secure, the cooking supplies organized, and the fire pit was ready for later. With everything in place, a sense of accomplishment washed over you.

The silence of the clearing felt peaceful, almost sacred, as if this place had been waiting just for you.

You took another deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, and as you exhaled, you felt lighter, freer.

It was just you and the wilderness now, the weight of the world falling away. And with that thought, you couldn’t resist any longer.

You straightened up, glanced back at the sea shimmering in the distance, and a surge of excitement bubbled up inside you.

Without thinking, you raised your arms toward the sky and let out a loud, joyful, “Wooooohooo!”

Your voice echoed through the trees, the sound dancing on the wind.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the echoes faded, your heart pounding with exhilaration.

It was a small victory, this moment—being here, in this beautiful place, by yourself.

“Thank you, Joel!” you called out, a grin stretching across your face.

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the wind or to yourself, but it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t here, but somehow, it felt right to thank him.

After all, he had recommended this place, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the suggestion. You stood there for a moment longer, letting the silence settle in again.

Then, with a smile still tugging at your lips, you turned toward the path that led to the sea.

It was time to reward yourself with a swim, to feel the water against your skin, cool and refreshing.

This is going to be a good trip.

And who knows? you thought, maybe I’ll come back and tell Joel all about it.

· · ──────

Joel had been watching her since she arrived, hidden in the treeline, his gaze sharp and steady. His truck was parked a ways back, well out of sight.

He’d walked the rest of the way, making sure to stay quiet as he moved through the brush, his boots silent against the earth.

He was always careful—old habits from his time in the military never died, and neither did his instinct to remain unseen.

Joel watched her step out, wide-eyed and eager, like she hadn’t the faintest clue about the dangers lurking in a place like this. Even though he’d told her where to come, seeing her here alone had set him on edge.

He had to protect her. Make sure she was safe.

She started setting up her camp, fumbling with the tent poles like he expected she would.

His lips twitched in amusement as she muttered to herself, the poles giving her more trouble than they had any right to.

He watched her struggle, clumsy but determined, and despite himself, he felt his chest tighten again, that same damn feeling that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching her like this, but the more he told himself that, the more his feet stayed planted. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a tree as he kept his eyes on her.

She was smart—he could see it in the way she double-checked everything, making sure the tent was secure, the cooking gear laid out just so.

She wasn’t careless, not exactly. Just… naive.

Still, something about her innocence, her softness, drew him in, despite his better judgment.

As she finished up, he was about to move, maybe head back to his truck and give her some space, but then she did something that made him freeze.

She raised her arms to the sky, her voice bursting out of her in a loud, joyful, “Woooohooo!”

Joel tensed, his instincts flaring, his hand instinctively hovering near his belt. The sound had startled him, snapping him into high alert.

He scanned the area, eyes narrowing, but there was nothing.

Just her. Alone. Safe.

Relief washed over him, but then he felt something else—a strange amusement creeping in.

She wasn’t screaming out of fear. No, she was celebrating, shouting into the empty wilderness like it was hers to claim.

She laughed, carefree and so full of life that it almost… unsettled him. His chest loosened, and before he could stop himself, a low chuckle rumbled deep in his throat.

She had no idea he was there, no idea how close he was.

Then, to his complete surprise, she threw her head back and shouted, “Thank you, Joel!”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, the words hanging in the air between them, the sound of her voice almost too sweet.

His grip on his belt relaxed, his pulse slowing as he realized she was… thanking him.

For this. For bringing her here.

His amusement deepened, and he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, and Joel leaned forward slightly, his voice a low murmur as he whispered under his breath,

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

He watched her for a moment longer, her happiness infectious despite himself. She was something different, that much he knew. Something soft in a world that had long since hardened him.

And as much as he knew he should leave her alone, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Not now.

Not when she was out here, completely unaware of the dangers that could surround her at any moment. Because that’s what he was here for, wasn’t it?

To keep her safe. To make sure nothing happened to her.

Joel watched her from the shadows, still on high alert as she busied herself around the campsite. His amusement had faded, replaced by that familiar tension coiling in his chest, the constant need to keep her safe gnawing at him.

It didn't sit right with him, her being out here all alone.

She had no idea what kind of dangers lurked out in the woods, no clue just how vulnerable she was. He clenched his fists, eyes narrowing as he kept his distance.

She was endearing, sure.

Sweet, even.

But that sweetness was going to get her killed if she wasn't careful. And as much as he wanted to keep his distance, to leave her be, he couldn't. She needs to be protected, he thought, his jaw tightening.

She doesn't even realize how easy of a target she is.

He kept his eyes on her, watching every movement with a careful precision. It wasn't just about keeping her safe from wild animals or the natural dangers of the wilderness.

People-men-could show up.

She was vulnerable in more ways than one, and Joel knew just how ruthless the world could be. His mind was spiraling again, his paranoia threatening to take over, when he saw her heading toward the small lake just beyond the campsite.

His eyes followed her, every muscle in his body tensing as he realized what she was doing.

She was undressing.

Joel's breath caught in his throat as he watched her pull her shirt over her head, her soft skin catching the light of the fading sun.

His mind screamed at him to look away, to respect her privacy, but his body betrayed him, his eyes glued to her every movement.

She dropped her shorts next, standing there in nothing but her underwear, the curve of her waist and hips on full display.

Joel's chest tightened, that familiar, unwanted heat rising inside him. He swallowed hard, his grip on the tree next to him tightening.

All the blood rushing to his cock.

But then she did something that made his blood boil.

With one fluid motion, she unclasped her bra, letting it tall to the ground.

His eyes locked onto the bare skin of her back, the soft curves of her body now fully exposed. She bent down, slipping out of her underwear, her entire form now vulnerable and exposed to the world.

What the hell is she doing?

A surge of anger flared up inside him. She was defenseless, naked, out in the open with no protection.

If anything-anyone-were to show up, she wouldn't stand a chance.

His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, the kind of things he'd seen during the war, the kind of things that made his skin crawl.

She's making herself a damn target.

Joel's jaw clenched, his fists tightening as he took a step forward, every instinct screaming at him to go to her, to tell her to put her damn clothes back on, to stop being so careless.

But then he froze.

His eyes swept over her again, this time with less anger and more... something else. The tension in his chest shifted, the fire in his veins cooling to a slow burn as he watched her step into the water, her body moving with a grace he hadn't noticed before.

Her bare skin glistened in the fading light, soft and smooth, the curves of her hips and the lines of her back almost too perfect.

She moved so effortlessly, her body swaying gently as she waded into the water, unaware of the eyes on her.

Joel's breath came out in slow, uneven bursts as he watched her. His anger faded, replaced by a twisted sense of admiration.

She was beautiful-there was no denying that. Her body was soft, untouched by the harshness of the world. His eyes traced the curve of her waist, the way her plump ass shifted as she walked deeper into the water.

Joel's chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy as he watched her.

His hand twitched at his side, his mind warring between the desire to protect her and the desire to... take her.

Take her - right here, right now on the forest floor.

His gaze followed the curve of her back, the way her hair floated around her in the water.

She was so oblivious, so innocent, completely unaware of the dangers around her.

And that was what enraged him—the recklessness, the vulnerability.

She had no idea how exposed she was, not just to the world but to him. The thought gnawed at him, tearing at the edges of his resolve.

He should have been disgusted with himself for standing there, hidden in the shadows, watching her like this. But the desire twisted deep inside him, growing stronger the longer he stared.

Joel swallowed hard, his throat dry, as his eyes roamed lower, taking in every inch of her.

The tightness in his jeans was almost painful, his cock pressing hard against the denim, aching in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

The war inside him raged on.

His mind wavered between the desperate need to protect her and the darker, more primal urge he had no right to feel. He wanted to shield her from the world, from the dangers lurking just beyond the trees.

But at the same time, he wanted to take her in all ways possible, to claim her as his. To fuck into her small body. To make her understand just how much she needed him.

No. Stop.

Joel leaned against the tree, his knuckles white as he fought to steady his breath.

His breath hitched as she resurfaced, water cascading down her bare skin like liquid silver.

The way the sunlight danced across her damp figure, catching on every curve and hollow, made her look almost unreal—like something ethereal, pulled straight from a dream.

Her skin shimmered in the fading light, her hair slicked back, clinging to her neck and shoulders in wet strands that only accentuated the softness of her features.

She didn’t belong out here.

She looked too delicate, too pure for the wildness surrounding her.

The contrast between the untamed wilderness and her serene, almost angelic form sent a shiver down his spine.

She was grace in motion, completely unaware of how vulnerable she was.

Each movement she made, each ripple in the water as she waded further in, was almost hypnotic, drawing him in deeper.

He had seen a lot in his life—too much.

The ugliness of the world had hardened him, left him numb to the softness it still had to offer.

But now, watching her, something in him cracked.

It wasn’t just the lust. It was something else.

Something about the way she seemed to glow in the dying light, so peaceful, so unburdened by the weight of the world.

She was everything he wasn't—everything he’d lost a long time ago. Ethereal, untouchable, and yet here she was, right in front of him.

Joel felt the pull again, that urge to protect her, to shield her from the darkness that had consumed so much of his life. But more than that, he wanted to keep her for himself, to have her softness against all his rough edges.

And in that moment, he realized, there was no going back.

Joel's jaw clenched as she started to wade back toward the shore, the water slipping down her body, revealing more of her as she emerged. The way the droplets glistened on her skin, made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away.

His pulse quickened, the primal urge to keep watching nearly overwhelming him.

But then, Joel forced himself to look away.

Not yet.

His fists tightened at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

He wanted to see her fully, to drink in every inch of her-but not like this.

In due time.

The thought stirred something deep inside him, the hunger gnawing at him even more fiercely.

He swallowed hard, his breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls.

Joel exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down, forcing his gaze back to the safety of the trees.

· · ────

The sun had finally dipped behind the trees, casting long shadows across your camp.

You moved around with a sense of contentment, the cool evening air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Everything felt peaceful—the kind of peace that you didn’t often get to experience in your daily life.

You set about lighting the small lantern, but as you reached for your flashlight to help navigate the growing darkness, a frown crossed your face.

“Where is it…?” you muttered, going through your bag again.

You checked each pocket carefully, but no flashlight.

You’d been so sure you packed it.

With a sigh, you knelt to check your gear one more time, shaking your head at your forgetfulness.

But then, there it was.

Sitting right in front of the tent flap, the flashlight gleamed in the soft light of the lantern, as if it had been there all along.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes in confusion.

“I swear that wasn’t there before,” you whispered to yourself.

It didn’t make sense.

You hadn’t seen it when you set up the tent, and you definitely would’ve noticed it while sorting through your gear. But after a moment of hesitation, you shrugged and picked it up, flicking it on to make sure it worked.

The beam cut through the growing twilight, casting long, gentle shadows over the campsite.

You felt a little silly for doubting yourself.

Maybe you were just distracted—too caught up in the excitement of the trip.

“Good job, brain,” you muttered with a grin, brushing off the strangeness as you moved on.

As you dug through your pack to prepare for dinner, your hand paused mid-search. You realized something else was missing.

Your lighter.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, slumping your shoulders in frustration.

This was supposed to be the easy part.

You sat back on your heels, glancing around camp, trying to figure out where you might have left it.

But before you could even get up to start looking, something caught your eye.

A lighter.

Sitting near the fire pit.

You squinted, taking a step closer. It wasn’t just any lighter.

It had a goofy design on it—bright colors with some sort of cartoon character.

You raised your eyebrows, picking it up and turning it over in your hand. The lighter had a ridiculous picture of a grinning, cartoonish frog on it, wearing sunglasses. Beneath it, the words “Coolest Camper Ever!” were printed in bold letters.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of it breaking through your earlier frustration.

“What the heck?” you giggled, flicking the lighter on and watching the small flame flicker to life.

“Well, guess this’ll do,” you chuckled, tucking it into your pocket.

You had no idea where this thing came from—it certainly wasn’t yours—but it was too funny to care.

Besides, a free lighter was a free lighter.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of oddness, though. Finding the flashlight and then this strange lighter? Maybe you were just a bit more scattered than usual, but still… it was weird.

You shook it off, letting the humor of the situation lighten your mood as you went back to your tasks.

· · ────

Joel moved like a shadow through the trees, his steps soundless on the forest floor. Years of survival had taught him how to blend into the background, how to become invisible when needed.

This wasn’t his first time sneaking up on someone—far from it—but something about doing it now, with her, made his chest tighten.

It wasn’t the same as before.

No enemy patrols, no immediate danger. But there was a weight to this, a tension that hadn’t been there for years. He was on edge, his senses heightened, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring.

She hadn’t noticed him yet. Not once.

That fact gnawed at him, frustration bubbling under the surface. She was so damn easy to watch, so completely unaware of the world around her.

It bothered him how vulnerable she was, how easily someone could sneak up on her like this.

Like he was doing.

But that's different.

As he moved closer, crouched low among the trees, he caught sight of her bent over her bag, her back to him as she searched for something.

nice view.

Joel quickly dismissed the thought.

He narrowed his eyes, watching her every move, assessing the scene like he had a hundred times before in far more dangerous situations.She was clumsy, fumbling with her things, but she didn’t seem to care.

Didn’t seem to realize how exposed she was.

Joel moved closer, his heart beating steadily in his chest, the thrill of sneaking up on her stirring something dark inside him. He reached into his bag, picking up the flashlight with ease, his rough fingers brushing against the cool metal.

He considered leaving it there for her to find but decided against it. She didn’t deserve to fumble around in the dark. Not on his watch.

Instead, he stepped toward the front of her tent, staying just out of her line of sight.

He placed the flashlight down carefully, making sure it was in a spot where she’d see it right away.

Then, he stepped back, blending into the shadows, watching her from his cover.

The satisfaction he felt when she spotted the flashlight was immediate, that small spark of pleasure flaring up in his chest as she picked it up, her face lighting up with a smile.

She thought she’d just found it by chance, like it was some kind of lucky accident.

Joel’s chest tightened at the sight of her, the tension in his muscles easing for a moment as he watched her laugh softly, holding the flashlight like a prize.

Sweet, sweet girl, he thought, his lips twitching into a small, satisfied smile.

Helping her, watching her without her knowing—it stirred something in him, something deeper than just the need to protect.

He liked seeing her happy, seeing that soft, innocent smile on her face.

And maybe, just maybe, he liked knowing that he had a part in it.

But as she continued with her setup, completely oblivious to his presence, Joel’s satisfaction turned to frustration.

She was too trusting, too naive. Anyone could sneak up on her like this—hell, anyone could do worse. The thought made his stomach churn.

She was easy prey. He could see it. Anyone with the wrong intentions would see it.

That didn’t sit right with him. She should have been more aware, should have been on edge, watching her surroundings like he was.

Instead, she was just… carefree.

Smiling to herself, humming that soft tune, completely at ease.

Joel’s hand clenched around the lighter in his pocket, his thumb brushing over the ridiculous cartoon frog on the side.

He almost didn’t bring it—didn’t want to be caught with something so ridiculous—but it was the only spare lighter he had on him.

He’d groaned internally when he fished it out earlier, irritated by the childish design. But now, watching her, it felt like it fit. She was the kind of person who would laugh at something like that, who would find it cute instead of stupid.

Joel moved again, slipping the lighter out of his pocket and placing it by the fire pit while her back was still turned. He retreated quickly, his heart pounding a little faster as he watched her from the shadows.

Her reaction was immediate. She spotted the lighter, her eyes widening in surprise as she reached for it.

She held it up, inspecting the cartoon frog, and then let out a soft laugh.

Joel shifted slightly, his eyes still locked on her as she moved around the camp, still smiling to herself, still humming that soft tune.

A mix of pride and something darker twisted in his chest.

She’s doing alright, he thought, his eyes softening for just a moment.

She’s managing.

But it didn’t change the fact that she shouldn’t be out here alone. So damn easy, he thought, his grip tightening on the tree next to him.

She wouldn’t be easy prey for anyone else.

Not while he was around.

· · ────

The night had grown darker, the soft glow of her campfire flickering against the tall trees.

The shadows seemed to stretch and shift as the wind rustled through the leaves.

She was oblivious to how exposed she was—how vulnerable. Joel could see it, though, with each breath he took, his eyes fixed on her.

Then it happened.

A sudden thud and a sharp, startled yelp echoed through the still night air.

His body reacted immediately.

Joel’s heart lurched, and his mind instantly raced back to those moments he tried so hard to forget—those moments where a single sound could mean life or death.

His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. His hand reflexively reached for his knife, muscles coiled, his senses heightened. Without thinking, he moved forward, his feet silent against the earth, ready to act, ready to fight.

His breath came fast and hard as his eyes locked onto her form.

She was sitting, clutching her knee, her face twisted in a mix of pain and frustration.

“Stupid root,” she muttered to herself, clearly frustrated.

She wasn’t in any real danger—just a small cut, a scrape from tripping over one of the tree roots near her tent.But Joel couldn’t process that right away.

All he saw was blood.

And in his mind, that blood meant danger.

His fingers twitched around the handle of the knife, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as the past threatened to swallow him whole. Memories slammed into him—the screams, the gunshots, the sight of bodies crumpling to the ground.

He couldn’t lose her, too.

His mind flashed back to another time, another place, where he couldn’t protect someone. Someone who depended on him.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Not with her.

She shifted, wincing as she gingerly touched her scraped knee, bringing Joel back to the present.

His chest heaved with heavy, erratic breaths as he forced himself to focus on her—on the here and now.

She wasn’t hurt. Not really. But she was vulnerable. Alone.

And she had no idea how easily that could change.

Joel gritted his teeth, the panic still clawing at the edges of his mind, even as he crouched back into the shadows, watching her, making sure nothing else was lurking in the dark. His grip on the knife loosened, but only slightly.

Her yelp still rang in his ears, echoing in his mind like the sounds of explosions, of soldiers calling out for help, of people he couldn’t save.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to pull himself out of the spiral, but the need to protect her—to keep her safe—burned hotter than anything else. It consumed him.

Joel blinked, his eyes snapping open, refocusing on her.

She was bandaging her knee, her movements slow but steady.

She didn’t realize how close she’d come—how easy it was for something to go wrong.

She never did.

Joel swallowed hard, pushing the memories down deep where they belonged, forcing himself to stay in the present. She finally stood up, brushing herself off with a soft sigh of relief, and Joel let out a shaky breath of his own. She was okay. For now.

But that fear, that suffocating terror of losing her, lingered in his chest, gnawing at him, refusing to let go.

As Joel watched her by the fire, his mind began to drift, despite his efforts to keep it anchored in the present.

He should’ve been focused, alert, scanning for threats the way he used to on patrols. But tonight, his attention wavered, his thoughts tugging him back to a place he’d rather forget.

The darkness around him wasn’t just the night anymore.

It felt like the blackness from years ago, the same emptiness that had swallowed him whole when the world had gone to hell.

The firelight flickered against her face, soft and warm.

A shadow of something ugly crept over his chest, a weight pressing down on him as memories surfaced.

Old sounds echoed in his ears—the screams, the gunfire, the deafening silence that always followed. He blinked hard, trying to shove it all away, trying to stay here, in the now.

But the harder he fought, the more it pressed in. His jaw clenched as he inhaled deeply through his nose, his fingers digging into the ground beneath him, grounding himself.

He wasn’t back there. Not anymore. He was here, with her.

Watching her.

Focus.

But the silence around her, her obliviousness to what could be lurking in the shadows—it made him feel the same helplessness he had felt back then.

It crawled under his skin, a sickening reminder of what happened when you let your guard down, when you trusted too much.

His heart pounded in his chest as the old memories of blood and failure threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t lose control. Not here. Not now.

He was responsible for her, for keeping her safe. That’s what mattered. That’s why he was out here in the dark, crouched behind trees, sneaking around like a damn ghost.

But the sight of her, so unaware, so damn vulnerable, gnawed at the edges of his mind, warping the lines between past and present.

A flash of something dark ran through his mind—her, crumpled, broken, hurt, blood on her soft skin. He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut, fighting off the images.

No.

Not her.

It was just his mind playing tricks on him. The way it always did.

He forced his eyes open again, and there she was—still sitting by the fire, completely unaware of his presence. Alive. Unhurt. Fine.

But the fear wouldn’t leave him.

He’d seen too much, lost too much. And he couldn’t shake the thought that she was going to slip through his fingers just like everything else had. His muscles tensed, his hands shaking slightly as his breath came faster.

He had to stay calm, had to stay in control. But the firelight flickered against her skin, and the memory of another fire, another moment he couldn’t change, flickered in his mind.

He was back there, just for a moment—back in the dirt, the weight of the gun in his hands, the scent of burning wood and flesh thick in the air.

He blinked, shaking his head, trying to drag himself out of it. His fingers curled into fists, grounding himself in the rough texture of the earth beneath him.

She’s not them, he reminded himself again, his breath coming fast and ragged. She’s not them. She’s here. You can protect her.

But the fear was relentless.

His need to protect her was more than just that. It was the only thing tethering him to reality, to something other than the nightmares.

If he could keep her safe, if he could make sure nothing happened to her, then maybe he wouldn’t have to drown in the guilt and the memories that haunted him every night.

Joel wiped a hand across his face, the weight of it all pressing down on him as he forced himself to focus on her again.

His chest rose and fell with shaky breaths as he stood up, retreating back to the shadows. He would watch her, make sure nothing happened to her.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay for one more night.

· · ────

Joel’s breath hitched as he crouched in the shadows, his eyes darting toward every shift in the wind, every rustle of leaves.

Something wasn’t right.

The air felt thick, oppressive, like it was charged with danger, and his gut twisted painfully. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing, but the nagging fear only grew stronger.

Something was out there. Someone was watching.

His mind flickered back to the war—how quiet the enemy could be, how they could slip through the trees, undetected until it was too late.

He was trained for this. He knew when something was lurking, waiting to strike. But this wasn’t like before. This was worse.

Joel’s jaw clenched as he scanned the treeline, eyes narrowing at the dark silhouettes of the forest.

The shadows moved, shifted in ways that didn’t make sense.

His heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat trickling down his neck.

They're out there. They want her. They couldn't take you - now they want her.

They’ll take her if you don’t move now.

The thought gripped him like a vice, and before he could stop himself, Joel was on his feet, moving toward her camp.

His hand was still wrapped tightly around his knife, his breath heavy and ragged as he stepped closer. His heart hammered against his ribs, every step bringing him closer to the firelight.

He could see her now—still by the tent, oblivious to what was out there, what was coming. He was sure of it.

The shadows… they were moving too fast. Too wrong. The enemy was here. He knew it.

His eyes widened, panic swelling in his chest. Move faster. Move before they take her.

“Joel?”

Her voice was soft, surprised, and completely unaware of the danger as she turned to face him. Her brow furrowed slightly, confusion flashing across her face as she stepped toward him.

But all he could see were the shadows.

Circling. Closing in.

Joel lunged forward, grabbing her arm with a firm, desperate grip. “We need to go,” he growled, his voice rough and frantic.

“What? Joel—”

“They’re here. Right there in the trees,” he rasped, eyes wild, scanning the darkness behind her. “We need to leave now. It’s not safe.”

She froze, her eyes wide with confusion as she looked around, trying to see what he saw. “I don’t—there’s nothing out there—”

“They’re coming for you,” Joel cut her off, his voice urgent, the raw panic clear in every word. His grip tightened on her arm, and for a moment, the fear in his eyes startled her more than his words.

“Joel, wait,” she said, her voice shaky, but she didn’t pull away. She could feel his hand trembling against her skin, his breath coming out in heavy, uneven bursts.

Her heart raced in her chest as she realized something was wrong. Really wrong.

There was no one in the trees. There were no shadows creeping toward her.

But Joel—he believed it.

She could see it in his eyes, in the way his muscles tensed, the way he scanned the darkness like a man hunted.

He wasn’t seeing what was real. He was lost in something else—something dark and terrifying.

Her stomach twisted with a mix of fear and empathy.

Joel wasn’t trying to scare her. He wasn’t trying to hurt her.

He was trying to save her.

But from what?

Joel’s eyes were wild, scanning the tree line as if any second something was going to leap out and drag her away. His grip on her arm tightened, his knuckles white, and his breathing erratic. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his whole body taut like a coiled spring ready to snap.

The way his gaze darted around, the sheer panic in his voice—she could tell he wasn’t seeing the same world she was.

“They’re here,” he repeated, his voice barely more than a growl. “Don’t you see ‘em? They’re in the trees, waitin’ for their chance. They’re comin’ for you. We gotta go, now.”

Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t see anything. The trees were still, the night was calm—nothing moved except the gentle sway of the branches in the breeze. There were no shadows, no figures lurking in the darkness.

But Joel… he was seeing something. Something awful.

For a moment, panic swelled in her chest, the weight of his fear pressing down on her like a heavy stone.

She wanted to pull away, to run, but she couldn’t leave him like this. His mind was trapped in whatever nightmare had a hold on him, and the only thing that seemed real to him was her.

He thought he was protecting her.

“Joel, listen to me,” she said softly, even as her heart raced. “There’s no one out there. It’s just us.”

But he shook his head violently, his eyes wide, unblinking. “No, no, no, you’re wrong.” His voice was strained, and for a second, she thought he might completely lose it. “They’re watchin’… waitin’. I can’t let ‘em take you. You have to come with me now.”

Her pulse thrummed in her ears, her breath quickening as she watched the battle raging behind his eyes. He was lost in something she couldn’t reach.

She glanced at the woods, her eyes scanning the same tree line, trying to see what he saw. But there was nothing. Only shadows and silence.

“Okay,” she said quietly, forcing herself to stay calm, though her fingers trembled as she gently placed her hand on his. “We’ll go. We’ll leave, alright? But you have to calm down.”

He blinked, his breath coming in harsh, ragged bursts. His grip on her arm loosened, but only a little. His eyes flickered between her and the darkened woods, uncertainty clouding his face.

“Just breathe, Joel,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady, even though the fear still crawled beneath her skin. “We’ll go. I’m right here. Just breathe.”

For a moment, Joel seemed to hesitate, his gaze shifting between her and the unseen threat in the trees. His body was still rigid, his muscles coiled with tension, but her voice—her touch—seemed to reach him, if only just a little.

She squeezed his hand gently, her heart pounding in her chest.

“We’ll be okay, Joel. But I need you to calm down. I need you to help me. I can’t do this without you.”

“You’re the only one who can save me,” she whispered, forcing the words through her tightening throat.

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since this episode started. His eyes were still clouded with panic, but there was something else there now—something raw, almost vulnerable.

She was giving him what he needed: a sense of control, of purpose. If playing along helped ease his fear, she’d do it. She’d make him feel like he was saving her.

She didn’t let go of his hand. “Let’s go, okay? We’ll go to the car, and we’ll get out of here.”

Joel hesitated for another beat, his eyes darting back to the trees one last time before he nodded slowly. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice strained but quieter now. “But we need to move. Now.”

“Okay,” she agreed, giving him a small, shaky smile. “We’ll go.”

Her heart was still pounding, but she felt a wave of relief as his grip on her arm loosened.

The whole time, Joel’s eyes remained locked on the trees, his paranoia still burning beneath the surface.

She didn’t know what had triggered him, didn’t know what demons had clawed their way into his mind. But she knew one thing for certain—Joel wasn’t in control right now. His fear was.

And as they made their way toward the car, she glanced up at him, her mind racing.

He wasn’t just scared. He was terrified—terrified for her.

But she didn’t let go of his hand, squeezing it gently to pull him back, to ground him in the present. and uncertain, “ I can’t let them take you.”

“They won’t,” she promised, even though the terror in his voice made her own heart race.

“They won’t because you’re here. But I need you to focus on me, alright? Focus on keeping me safe.”

Joel’s eyes flickered again, his shoulders stiff with tension, but he nodded slowly, as if trying to pull himself out of the dark place he’d fallen into.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

She shook her head, brushing it off. “You don’t need to be sorry. Just stay with me, okay?”

They reached the car, and she gently guided him toward the passenger seat, her hand still resting lightly on his arm. He hesitated, looking back at the woods one more time, his brow furrowed in deep suspicion.

But when she opened the car door, he finally climbed inside, his breathing still uneven, but not as frantic as before.

As she slid into the driver’s seat, she glanced over at him, her mind racing.

She didn’t know what exactly had triggered him, but she knew she had to get him away from here, had to bring him back to some kind of safety.

He needs help, she thought again, her heart heavy with the weight of the realization.

And despite everything, she couldn’t help but feel the strange mix of fear and concern that tied them together in this moment.

· · ────

Joel’s fingers twitched, his hands balling into fists in his lap as he stared out the windshield, still scanning the woods. The shadows played tricks on his mind, flickering with movement that wasn’t really there.

His chest was tight, his pulse still pounding in his ears.

But when he looked over at her, sitting there, waiting for him to calm down, something inside him clicked.

He couldn’t let her drive. Not like this. Not when the road might not be safe.

“Move over,” he muttered, his voice rough, but less frantic now.

He reached for the keys in the ignition, and she blinked in surprise, her brows furrowing as she glanced at him.

“Joel—”

“I’ll drive,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

His gaze flicked toward the dark trees again, the unease still crawling under his skin, but there was a steady determination in his voice now.

“I need to make sure we get outta here.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes soft with concern as she studied his face.

But then she gave a small nod, understanding that he needed this—needed to feel like he was in control again.

Wordlessly, she slid over to the passenger seat, and Joel settled behind the wheel, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

He didn’t waste any time, starting the car and pulling onto the narrow dirt road.

The tires crunched over the gravel as they drove away from the campsite, the darkness closing in around them, but Joel’s focus was sharp now.

His jaw clenched as he kept his eyes on the road, his mind still racing, still half-expecting something to jump out from the shadows.

But there was something grounding about the feel of the wheel beneath his hands, the engine rumbling under his control.

“She’s safe,” he reminded himself. “I’m getting her out.”

The thought repeated in his mind like a mantra, pushing back the lingering panic that had gripped him so tightly just moments before.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Not now. Not ever.

He glanced over at her, just for a second, seeing the way she sat quietly beside him, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes flicking between him and the road.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t press him, but he could feel her presence calming him, bringing him back to the present.

But beneath the surface, the fear still simmered, the paranoia still gnawing at him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still out there, watching, waiting. And that made his grip on the wheel tighten even more.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear.

She glanced at him, her expression softening. “You don’t have to apologize, Joel.”

But he did. He had to apologize for putting her in danger, for not being able to protect her. He wasn’t enough, not in that moment. And that thought alone ate at him, twisting in his gut.

The road stretched out in front of them, the trees looming in the distance, and Joel’s mind remained focused, laser-sharp, as he drove them toward safety.

Toward his home.

Where he could keep an eye on her.

Where he could make sure nothing would ever hurt her.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

well…. that was intense.

(she’s better than me I would’ve ran away screaming)

Horny, people - I hope you can forgive me for not having real smut in this yet.. next chapter is going to be heated, get ready - it’s finally happening.

Again - comment if you want me to remind you when there’s a next part!

xoxo

[ms--lobotomy]

40k Lion being an an absolute freak. A slutty old man. A whore. Anything will do really.

Normally I don't answer requests while they're closed, but @kit-williams has a long overdue birthday gift involving Lion of either type. I was already going to do 40k Lion, but this is the kick in the ass I needed to finally write the fic. Thank you, Anon!

Summary: Lion reunites with an old lover.

Word Count: 649

Content Warnings: This one's real soft but like. Armor kink and breeding and vague NSFW

Image Credit: @squishyowl

You were going to become a mother. At least, that's what he had promised you. Before Horus lost his mind, before the man you loved vanished without so much as telling anyone where he'd gone. Ten thousand years had gone by. Despite your nature as a Perpetual, it was a long and accursed wait for something that might not even happen. Ten thousand years, and you'd not given up for a day.

Someone who'd been the lover of a Primarch would have had to go into hiding for the foreseeable future. So hide you did, moving from planet to remote planet and never staying for more than a few Earthen years. It was late at night while you worked. The noises you heard were like small earthquakes, but rhythmic as one thump superseded another. Right after the last one, you heard a knock.

"Shouldn't you be...?" you asked, words failing you.

"What in the galaxy do you mean?" you heard a familiar voice respond.

It all clicked in your mind. Perhaps the footsteps of a Primarch were so unfamiliar to you nowadays, so otherworldly that you'd mistaken them for something else. You hadn't looked out of any windows, but you saw a familiar shade of green. And you'd recognize the voice anywhere, if it was a little huskier and a little more worn.

"Lion?"

"Indeed," he replied, "now if you could invite me in, that would be quite welcome."

You tilted your head. He was never one to announce his presence, and the Lion you knew would open the door himself if he'd wanted to see you. Oh, well, you've reasoned with yourself. Most people change in ten thousand years. As you approached the door, you saw the familiar etchings in his verdant armor. You opened it and craned your neck up to look at him.

"You've aged," you said softly as he ran a hand along your cheek. His wrinkles were far more pronounced, and his hair was silver instead of the blonde you remembered. His forest-green eyes were the same, and he made rare eye contact with you as the crows feet grew deeper with his smile.

His smile widened. "You haven't," he replied, kneeling down. He slipped a hand behind your knees and lifted you up, his armor cold against your skin.

You relaxed. Despite the metal armor, his hold was as comfortable as your remember. He stood up. You hadn't felt that rush of air in a long while. You were now higher above the ground than you were tall.

He lifted you to his mouth, and you bared your neck as he pressed kiss after soft kiss into it. His whiskers were still rough against your skin, but that was a welcome feeling after going so long without it. Your eyes met again, and you let out a light giggle.

"I've missed you," he mumbled before resuming his activity.

"I've..." you started. How were you even going to begin to describe how you felt, those ten thousand years of sleepless nights waiting for him? That empty feeling of waiting, of not knowing whether your efforts were for nothing. Relief didn't even begin to cover how you were feeling. "I've missed you t-!"

He set you down and knelt before you again, pressing his lips onto yours and pressing you into the side of your house. The straps of your sundress were pushed up and to the side, and your eyes widened as his closed. After a minute, he pulled away.

"Too soon?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"N, no," you whimpered. You made no effort to pull the straps of your dress back up, thanking your lucky stars that you had no neighbors.

"Good," he said. "Now, help me take off my armor. I want to keep my promise to you."

"What-?"

"You're going to become a mother when I'm done with you."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[kaivenom]

Dating Sir Crocodile HCS

A/N: this is based on a request made by an anonymous, i hope you read this. And i must admit that i got really long.

Masterlist

Meeting

You either meet him by working for him or by being another mobster let's set the division here.

You work for him

You were selected by your habilities, he didn't care about your appearence, just your effieciency.

And you really were, that's what he liked and what made him ascend you really fast.

When you were like his second in command, you started to feel like you were overworking, same salary but much more work.

In the other hand, he started to feel the most relaxed he has been ever, your pressence was making him be better at work and all that comes with it.

You wanted a raise and he didn't give to you. He saw it as a lack of respect and you shut up, not wanting to damage the good relationship you both builded.

At the end you resigned a week after and he let you.

Spoiler, he couldn't stand it, not because him having to do the work, no, because he was alone and you weren't there with your calming pressence, the bad jokes and that good morning smile.

He lasted a couple of weeks, then he went to search you.

"So, someone can't do his job without help."

"It's not about the job."

"Then what it..." you couldn't continue because he was kissing you.

You returned, now at his second officially, no raise but unlimited access to his money.

You are another mobster

At first there was that cordial hostility between enemies that otherwise would be friends.

Both of you tried to make peace between your mobs but obviously, with your own terms.

To be more casual, you both decided to meet at dinner place.

Ussually mobs share living experiences to see if their life styles combine with their future allies, so you both would do that.

The problem was still unsolved so you needed another meeting, and then other and other, until you weren't even talking about alliances just life.

This is the point were your gangs started to see the new problem and wanted to solve it for their way.

"So, one of my seconds said that at this point if we want an alliance we should be married, crazy right?" you said flustered.

"It's not crazy, mine's said that too. We don't have to be marrid but maybe they are right and we should date."

"If dating goes wrong, we are doomed."

"Then we can't mess up, we can do a contract if that happens, if it makes you feel safer."

"Really?"

"Dating you seems like the perfect idea for me, like i don't desire to do so?" he was talking serious, he wanted to date but he was concious about it, now he had de excuse.

Dating

His love languages are gifts, anything you want then he has it the next morning on your door. And quality time: long afternoons on the office, sleepless lazy nights.

He can't do physical touch as much as he wants to thanks to his reputation and your safety, so that would be reserved to home.

The more you will have on public are cheek or forehead kisses, a small pat on your head or a little brush on the leg.

Then in the house, you won't have another sit that isn't his legs.

Big on commited men, this man has a special calendar in the office to remeber dates with you. He even has the secretary to remember him special dates if he forget due to work.

He knows he can get submerged on job so he does everything he cans to just don't dissapoint you, cause he knows you expect him to be working a lot.

Hes huge, we know that, so you will sleep on top of him or using him as a pillow and pray to not end up as the little spoon.

That doesn't happen ussually, so you don't get crushed but he will always have his arm on you (so you sleep on the side of his good arm)

If someone tries to threaten him, you are the one on lock down.

After a couple of years he will start to think about retiring and have a life with you and maybe a kid. The first thing it's difficult so he proposes to you to begin with that.

He is a master of deals and that applies to you, it's wonderful to know that he always listens to your concerns and tries to solve it or either get to a agreement.

He never reaises his voice with you and you are the only one that makes him laugh, like a real laugh, not the mafia boss grin.

NSFW

He needs to be in control always so disconecting from that in bedroom is difficult.

He tends to be dominant and give you orders (not that you complain) but on particular vulnerable days he is more able to let it go and you have the oportunity to lazily ride him with passionate kisses.

He can make you call him daddy but not sir, never that, everyone calls him that, but in bed you should never, it just clicks something on his mobster mind that he doesn't like. He is with you not in the job.

He doesn't like degradation either, maybe things like pointing your obvious need for him but not hummiliate.

I think he doesn't view sex like an everyday activity, he is a man but he is a grown one. If he gets a random boner he will try to hide it or let it happen, nothing much but... if you happen to be with a skirt or with a particular behaviour or he is specially needy for you, then he will go to catch you.

Definetily a growler and groaner, perfectly able to talk and tell you how good you make him feel and how good you are doing it. These are the times when he is the more talkative ever.

He loves to comunicate with these things cause he is a big man (you know what i mean) and he knows it so he wants to make you confortable. You both had a talk about it and you were more flustered about his serious face than to the fact that he was saying his dick will split you in half.

But things said, then he could fuck you like god, cause he knows how to do it.

He is more of a reciever, something about your pretty dollface between his legs with his dick half way into your mouth, it's so sexy.

You both even tried to take things out of the bedroom and try that famous scene were the girls suck the guy under the table on a meeting.

Spoiler: neither of you liked it so, things stayed in the bed.

[bruhnze]

PLAYING FOR KEEPS

CHAPTER 1 – United in Manchester (Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze)

Summary: Ona Batlle has had a crush on Lucy Bronze for a little while now… how will it go when she joins Barça? A 10 chapter series.

Warnings: Slow burn, angst, fluff, smut. All the things, but I give this as a complete warning for the whole series. Not every chapter involves all the warnings :).

Wordcount: the series is around 50k words (10 chapters)

Note: no Spanish or Catalan is used for continuity purposes, probably most team dialogue you just have to imagine it being not in english xx.

Summer 2023

Ona closed her final suitcase, her last belongings packed away. Most of her things had already made the journey to her new apartment in Barcelona, leaving her with only a few essentials like a couple of shirts, a pair of jeans and her toothbrush.

Tomorrow marked the official farewell to Manchester United, a place that had been her home for the past few years. Although the team had already celebrated her departure with a party, this final day felt like the true goodbye. After tomorrow, she would close the chapter on her England adventure and return to her beloved Catalonia to begin a new journey with FC Barcelona. Joining Barça again was a dream come true, as she regarded it as the best football club in the world. Despite her excitement for the future, there was also a little sadness with leaving behind Manchester and all the memories she had made there. It made the farewell bittersweet, goodbyes were never easy.

As Ona gathered the last of her things for her hand luggage tomorrow, her gaze fell on her small, worn diary. This little book had been her loyal companion through the highs and lows of her Manchester adventure. Unlike her other personal items that been shipped off in boxes, this diary was something she couldn’t part with like that. It had been her friend during tough times and a place to celebrate her victories. Every page was filled with a piece of her journey, from the rivalries to the moments of joy she had shared with new people she had met.

Flipping through the final pages, Ona’s eyes lingered on the section at the back of the booklet she had dedicated to players she admired and when she’d played them. One of who was Lucy Bronze. She had always felt a special kind of feeling towards the defender, she was drawn to her. And with Lucy now becoming her teammate at Barça, Ona felt a surge of excitement at the thought of finally sharing the pitch with her idol on the same side.

This part of her diary held memories of their past encounters, it described Ona’s admiring for Lucy’s talent and her growing ambition to be just as great as her, or maybe even greater, although she didn’t know if that was possible.

19 January 2020 – WSL – Manchester City 3-0 Manchester United“This match was tough. I tried my best to contain, but Manchester City was relentless. I remember one moment vividly—Lucy managed to slip past us and set up a goal with such ease. It was a harsh lesson in what it means to be at the top. Even though it stung, I couldn’t help but admire her skill. I wish to be as good of a right back as her”

13 February 2021 – WSL – Manchester City 3-0 Manchester United ‘’We faced City again, and it felt like déjà vu. Lucy seemed to be everywhere at once, and despite our best efforts, we couldn’t turn the tide. Losing like this for the second time was hard, but it only strengthened my resolve.” 9 October 2021 – WSL – Manchester City 2-2 Manchester United“This game was a nail-biter. We managed to hold City to a draw. Lucy made a brilliant run just after half time, but we managed to recover in time. Walking off the pitch, I felt a mix of pride and respect. Lucy’s talent was undeniable, and this game was a reminder of just how high I had to reach. We shook hands and she said ‘good game’ to me.” 24 February 2022 – She Believes Cup – England 0-1 Spain “Beating England was a sweet victory, but Lucy’s presence on the pitch was undeniable. Her leadership pushed us to our limits, I noticed how she figured our play out, and directed her players, but luckily we were scored a goal. This game was a turning point for me, a chance to measure myself against the best and it was an important step for Spain.” 13 March 2022 – WSL – Manchester United 1-0 Manchester City“Finally, we got the win we’d been chasing with United. I intercepted a pass from Lucy, leading to the goal that secured our victory. It was a moment of personal victory, knowing that I had finally gotten the better of one of my greatest rivals. Although she as a player is still better then me, our team was better this time.” 20 July 2022 – UEFA Women’s Euro 2022 – England 2-1 Spain“We came close, but England clinched the win, it was a tough loss. Seeing Lucy lift the trophy was a powerful reminder of the heights I aspired to. It was a tough pill to swallow, but England’s success was a testament to the dedication and skill required to reach the top. I vow to come back stronger with Spain, I believe we will come back stronger.” 20 August 2023 – FIFA Women’s World Cup 2023 – Spain 1-0 England“Winning the World Cup was incredible, but I couldn’t help but feel for Lucy. Seeing her disappointment was a stark reminder of how fleeting triumphs can be and how hard it is to stay at the top. It also highlighted the thin line between success and heartbreak. It made me even more excited to join her at Barça and hopefully share many successes together. I walked after her to comfort her when I saw her tears, she walked away at first and I didn’t know if it was my place to consolidate her, but I felt the urge to do it and in the end I feel like she got cheered up a little. I can’t wait to spend more time together when we play for the same team. She said she was excited for me to join too. We even saw eachother inside again, in the tunnel, there we had another quick conversation, she was already analyzing the game in her head, she told me I had an amazing game. I thanked her and then we hugged. She thanked me for coming after her, and then she laughed and told me to go celebrate.”

As Ona closed the diary, she felt a profound sense of gratitude, each little reflection told a story of growth, rivalry and respect. She was filled with a mix of excitement and anticipation. She was about to join a team that included Lucy Bronze, a player she had always admired from afar. The prospect of working alongside her idol, and now also her teammate, was both thrilling and daunting. She couldn’t wait to maybe even become friends with the English defender.

Recently, during last winter, Ona had met Lucy Bronze off the field, at the wedding of their mutual friend Lucy Staniforth. It was a different experience entirely - Lucy turned out to be even kinder and more down-to-earth than Ona had imagined. Their day together was filled with laughter, personal anecdotes and even some dancing, breaking down the barriers of their on-pitch rivalry.

Despite the connection they shared that day, Ona had hesitated to reach out to Lucy afterward, doubting whether the English defender would welcome the contact. Stani had reassured her that Lucy would have appreciated it, but Ona’s lingering uncertainty had held her back.

She was just another stranger to Lucy right, they only knew eachother vaguely from being rivals, Lucy didn’t know, and didn’t need to know, how much Ona looked up to her. Especially with their coming colleagueship for the same team, it would be a little unprofessional, and not to speak of the fact it was embarrassing.

…

Ona took a deep breath and looked around her very-soon-to-be-former training ground, she allowed herself a moment to appreciate her journey. The rivalries here, the victories, the defeats - they had all shaped her, preparing her for this new step ahead. Finally she had build enough experience to play for Barça’s first team with a big contract this time.

The cool Manchester air was heavy with nostalgia as she walked towards the building one last time. The crisp morning light filtered through the clouds, casting a soft, almost melancholic glow over the pitch.

As Ona moved into the busy locker room, memories of her time here flooded back, each one a bittersweet reminder of her impending departure.

Preparing for her final practice session, Ona's mind drifted back to a series of encounters that had come to define her time in England. Her time in England had been transformative. She had arrived in Manchester with a mix of excitement and dread, eager to prove herself in a new league and a new country. The transition had been challenging—the climate, the culture, the language—all required adjustments. Yet, as the months rolled by, Ona had found herself adapting and thriving. Manchester, with its gray skies, had become a part of her journey in ways she hadn’t expected.

One of the best things about her time here had been the friendships she’d built. The locker room, once an intimidating place, had turned into a second home. As Ona walked by the familiar lockers, she felt a little tug in her chest, knowing she’d soon leave it behind.

Lucy Staniforth sauntered over with a smile, but a hint of sadness. "So, last practice, huh? You ready for it?"

Ona gave a small laugh, even though her throat tightened. "I think so? It’s weird, though. Feels like I just got here, and now it’s already over."

Lucy nodded, her arm slipping around Ona’s shoulder as they sat down together. "It’s going to be so strange without you. You’ve gotta keep in touch, yeah?"

"Of course," Ona said, smiling. "And you’re always welcome to visit, you know that."

Just then, Mary Earps wandered over, her face showing how much she’d miss her too. "Onita!!!" Mary said, with a raised voice, drawing attention from the whole team. "You better invite me to sunny Barcelona at least once."

Ona pulled Mary into a tight hug, laughing. "Ofcourse."

Although the team had already held a goodbye party last week, they gathered around Ona one by one again, each declaring how much they were going to miss the tiny Spaniard and asking to be invited to her house or a fc Barcelona match when to opportunity was there.

…

The next morning, the reality of her move finally hit, but instead of feeling nervous, Ona was filled with excitement. A new life in Barcelona was waiting!

The club had set up a beautiful, modern apartment for her close to the training facilities. Her family had already sent her photos of all her things neatly unpacked. Everything looked perfect, but with one thing still missing—herself, and ofcourse her little dog Coco.

Ona felt a twinge of sadness as she checked Coco in for the flight. She hated that he had to travel in the hold, away from her, but she knew the flight wasn’t too long and they would soon be walking the sunny streets of Barcelona together.

During the flight Ona gazed out the window. She watched the familiar English countryside fade away and not much longer then two hours, the vibrant colors of Spain came into view, the bright sun shining down on the city below. The lively atmosphere of Barcelona, so different from Manchester’s gray skies, felt like a warm welcome.

When she had landed and gathered all her belongings and Coco, Ona’s heart skipped a beat as she spotted her family waiting for her. Her brother was holding a colorful sign that read “Welcome home Ona!”, but it was her mother’s open arms that she rushed into first.

Hugging her mother tightly, Ona felt a wave of relief and happiness wash over her. She had missed this—missed the warmth and comfort of her mother’s embrace, the real feeling of being home. Her father and brother joined the hug, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

As they drove to her new apartment, Ona couldn’t help but smile as she looked out at the familiar sights of her beloved city. This was it, her dream was finally coming true. She had faced the challenges of living in England, grown as a player, and now she was back in Barcelona, ready to play football she had always dreamed of.

Surrounded by her family and with Coco by her side, Ona knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

…

After a drive which wasn’t supposed to take this long, but with all the traffic in the streets of Barcelona, it did, Ona and her parents finally arrived at her new apartment. Her brother had already said goodbye after their greeting in the airport.

The moment she stepped inside, she felt happy. Her belongings already unpacked, made the place feel like home. The afternoon was spent in the company of her parents, laughing together and talking about the exciting time laid ahead.

They had ordered some local food, paella ofcourse, to celebrate her return to Spain. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, they sat around the small kitchen table, enjoying their first meal in her new home.

Ona’s mother fussed over her, making sure everything was in its place, while her father admired the view from the balcony. Ona ensured them for the hundred time she would be okay and they could go.

Finally Ona’s parents began to gather their things, preparing to leave. Her mother, with a warm smile and a kiss on her forehead, reminded Ona that she was just a call away. After a few more hugs and goodbyes, they were gone and the apartment fell into a peaceful quiet.

Ona was exhausted, the day’s events catching up to her all at once. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep, but there was one last thing she had to do: taking Coco for a walk.

She grabbed his leash and headed outside. The night air was refreshing against her skin. The neighborhood was peaceful, with only the sound of distant traffic and an occasional passerby.

Suddenly, she heard someone call out, "Ona? Ona Batlle!?"

Assuming it was a fan, Ona turned around with a kind smile.

But her smile grew wider with surprise when she saw Lucy Bronze standing just a few steps away, a dog by her side.

"Ona! I didn’t expect to see you here," Lucy said, her face lighting up with recognition. "I mean, I knew we’d run into each other soon, but not like this."

"Lucy! What are you doing here?" Ona asked, still wrapping her head around the coincidence.

"I live here," Lucy replied with a playful chuckle, joking. "I play for Barça, remember?"

Ona laughed, the initial tension melting away. "ahh, ofcourse," she chuckled and pointed to the building she had just left. "wait, you mean in that building?"

"Yeah," Lucy confirmed with a warm smile, finally reaching her. "are we hugging?"

Ona smiled back ‘’ofcourse, we’re teammates now’’, nodding as she stepped into the embrace. "Nice to see you again" she said softly as they pulled back, "I wasn’t expecting to see a familiar face so soon."

"When did you get back here?" Lucy asked, knowing Ona had a history with Barcelona but also recalling their brief encounter in July, when Ona had come down to the club to officially sign her contract.

"Today, just a few hours ago. My parents picked me up from the airport and we had dinner together before they headed out, they just left actually."

"Oh, you must be exhausted," Lucy said, sympathy lacing her voice.

"Yeah, I’m sure I’ll crash as soon as I hit the bed, but Coco needed a walk first." Ona chuckled. The dog looking up as he heard his name.

"Am I keeping you? I can take another route?" Lucy offered.

"No, not at all," Ona shook her head, her smile widening. "I’m glad I ran into someone familiar before training next week. Even though I used to play for Barça and I know a few girls from nationals, it still feels like a new beginning, honestly I’m a bit nervous."

..

They chatted for a while, sharing stories about moving clubs, discussing their excitement for the season to start again and even the world cup made a brief appearance, but Lucy assured Ona that she didn’t hold a grudge about that, chuckling that England would beat them next time.

Both dogs seemed to get along well too, happily trotting beside each other as their owners talked. The conversation flowed easily, much like it had the last times they had met. It was comforting for Ona to find a familiar face in the new place, especially someone she admired so much and it helped a lot that Lucy was being so nice to her.

Ona couldn’t help the fact that she had considered that Lucy might not be warm towards her, given that they were both playing for the same position. Something which could come with a bit of rivalry within teams if players were both eager for a starting position. She didn’t get any of those vibes off of the English defender, but maybe that was yet to come, she hoped not.

As they said their goodbyes in the building’s lobby and headed back to their respective apartments, Ona couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. Not only was she living her dream, but she also had a friend and teammate just a few doors down, with who she had just exchanged phone numbers to carpool next week.

When Ona finally shut her apartment door, she still wore the smile on her face, she had had a good day. A perfect day.

She tucked Coco into his bed and as she crawled under her own blankets, she still couldn’t stop smiling. This new chapter in her life was already off to an incredible start.

…

The next week, on a bright august morning, Ona and Lucy set off together for the FC Barcelona training ground, the sun casting a golden glow over the city. During the drive they chatted and Ona tried to ease her worries about fitting in with both her new and the familiar teammates. Lucy, with her easygoing and kind nature, reassured Ona that it would be like coming home for her.

Upon arriving at the club, the day was a whirlwind of medical tests and introductions. Ona was welcomed back into the fold by familiar faces. She saw Aitana, her national camp roomie, as they were both having their bike test at the same time. She hugged her and Bonmatí said she was very excited to see Ona back and couldn’t wait to play with her again.

Alexia, Jana, Salma and also some players she didn’t yet know, like Keira, Caroline and Esmee, everyone was kind and even though the medical examinations were thorough and took up most of the morning, she had had a good time.

The few nerves that Ona had started the day with were long forgotten as her first day of work went by.

..

By the end of the day, Lucy and Ona drove back together, sharing their impressions of the day. Ona had barely seen her neighbor around at the club, but she hadn’t expected Lucy to stay around holding her hand either. And after all it hadn’t really been necessary , she knew most off the girls there maybe even better then Lucy so it would’ve been weird. But she did feel really comfy near Lucy and was definitely eager to become friends with her.

The long hours had been exhausting, but the mood in the car was great. They reflected on the promising start to the season, discussing training plans and their hopes for the future. The drive back was filled with laughter and mutual encouragement, reinforcing the feeling that this new chapter was going to be an exciting adventure. Already planning out all the trophies they would win, all of them ofcourse.

..

The week had gone better than Ona could’ve imagined. Joining a new team was always a mix of excitement and nerves, but Ona was settling in well. Her developing friendship with Lucy helped a big part in that. They quickly fell into a rhythm, driving together whenever their schedules matched up. It was comforting to have someone to talk to during the rides—Lucy’s calm and laid-back demeanor put Ona at ease. They even walked their dogs together, sometimes by chance when they bumped into each other outside, and other times when one of them texted to arrange it. Those small moments of connection gave a spark to Ona’s days.

The training sessions were intense, but Ona was also starting to find her place within the team. Over the course of the week, she had formed a tight-knit group with Salma, Vicky, Bruna, Jana, Patri, and Pina. It came naturally—they joked around, supported each other through drills and even helped each other out with little things like advice on new drills or finding the best spots for post-training snacks.

This Saturday morning’s session was typical pre-season work: sharp, focused and designed to get them all in peak condition. The mood was upbeat, everyone knowing they’d have the afternoon off once they were done. Lucy had texted Ona earlier, suggesting they grab lunch together after training and Ona had agreed, excited about spending more time with her new friend.

As they finished the session, the group drifted towards the locker room, still chatting animatedly. The conversation quickly turned to lunch plans, with Vicky and Salma leading the charge.

“There’s this rooftop restaurant in the city that has the best views,” Vicky said, her eyes lighting up. “You guys have to come. The food’s amazing.”

Salma nodded enthusiastically. “And the vibe is so chill. Especially on a day like this.”

Ona was about to say yes when she felt a gentle nudge at her side. She turned to see Lucy, who was freshly showered and ready to go. “Hey, chauffeur, ready to go?” Lucy asked with a teasing smile.

Ona smiled back, feeling a bit torn. “I’d love to go with you guys another time, but I’m carpooling with Lucy.”

Vicky wasn’t going to let her friend off the hook so easily. “Why don’t you join us after you drop Lucy off?” she suggested, not missing a beat.

Lucy, responded with a grin. “I was actually going to buy Ona lunch for driving me to training, but if you’d rather go with them, we can always reschedule.”

Vicky waved off the idea with a laugh. “Lucy, you can join too, you’re a cool old person.”

Salma chuckled, adding, “Yeah, sure Lucy can join.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Old? I’m not old.” She huffed.

The whole group standing around bursted out in a chuckle.

Ona quickly jumped in, without having control she called out to defend the older player. “Lucy’s not old.”

With a smile, Lucy draped an arm around Ona’s shoulder. “See? I’m not old,” she said, pulling Ona a little closer. The gesture was casual, but it made Ona feel warm inside.

The rest of the group laughed, the teasing and banter making the decision easy. Vicky grinned. “Alright, so it’s settled. We’re all going.”

Lucy nodded, still smiling. “Sounds like a plan.”

As they all headed out of the locker room together walking to the parking lot. Ona turned to Lucy, ´´sure it´s allright?’’, ‘’I don’t want to bother you, we can go another time for lunch together?’’.

Lucy looked at Ona curiously, ‘’do you not want me there? It’s cool if you just want to with your friends, I just-‘’ she smiled awkwardly, ‘’thought it could be fun?’’.

Ona shook her head, ‘’no, no’’ she put her hand on Lucy’s lower arm, ‘’I would really like for you to come’’.

‘’Sure?’’ Lucy asked, ‘’you can just drop me off at home if-

‘’No’’ Ona shook her head, ‘’I just thought-‘’.

Salma and Vicky called out from Ona’s car ‘’Ey, can you open the car Ona?’’.

Ona looked up annoyed, ‘’why? what are you two doing?’’.

‘’Patri and Pina said we could drive with you’’ Vicky said proudly.

Ona internally groaned, she would’ve rather sat alone with Lucy, but she didn’t show her discontentment and just clicked open the car.

‘’I really like you joining the lunch’’ she quickly said to Lucy on more time before they made it to the car too.

…

The lunch was great, Ona couldn’t help but glance at Lucy every once in a while, especially when she laughed at one of her own jokes. She normally didn’t like people that did that, but with Lucy it was so cute, so innocent. She wanted to watch her laugh for hours.

Lucy had paid for the lunch of everyone, Ona hadn’t expected it, no one had. But she had been gone for a second and when they’d asked for the bill the waiter had told it had been paid. Then Lucy had confessed she’d already paid.

After dropping Salma off they were now at Vicky’s place. ‘’Thanks Ona, and thank you Lucy, you’re a G’’ Vicky said before closing the car door, ‘’see you next week’’.

‘’Bye Vicky’’, Lucy called out as Ona stayed silent.

She drove off again, now headed to their apartment block, about a twenty minute drive.

‘’You good?’’. Lucy said, turning the music down a little, ‘’you seem very far away in thoughts’’.

Ona blinked, ‘’uhm, oh, yeah, no’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’tired?’’.

‘’Yes,’’ Ona nodded, happy with the excuse easily offered to her, ‘’a bit tired’’.

‘’Ah, maybe a nap when you’re home then’’.

 ‘’Maybe, but I have to walk Coco first’’.

‘’Ah, Narla also has to go on a walk, maybe we can walk together?’’.

Ona smiled, but quickly put her face in neutral again, trying to stay casual. ‘’Mhm, okay.’’

‘’If you’re too tired it is fine too,’’ Lucy said, ‘’don’t feel pressured’’.

‘’No, no’’ Ona said, momentarily glancing over to face Lucy, ‘’I would like to walk together’’.

‘’Good, I like walking them together.’’

‘’Yeah me too, they seem to like eachother.’’ Ona said, a little blush creeping up her cheeks.

‘’Mhm.’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’becoming besties like their moms’’.

...

Masterlist: Playing for keeps

[mymindcreatedthis]

No Nut November 18+

Reader x Georgia Stanway

Warning: Smut, Smut, Smut

Word count: 3.1k

*Y/n's Pov*

This no nut November has been the hardest one yet for me. Georgia challenged me as a joke, but me being me I took the challenge seriously making it a challenge for myself.

Every year I'd always try to complete no nut November but within the first few days I'd always fail mainly because of one person, Georgia.

This year I thought Georgia was making it a little easier for me, not really trying to tease me as much as she would but the past 3 days she decided to go all out trying to tease me. From bending over in front of me wearing tight fitted booty shorts, to walking around my house in just a towel claiming her shower was broken when we both knew it wasn't. Every time it would turn me on, me needing a release then and there.

It was the last day of November it was 11:58 pm, Georgia was in the inshore as she claimed her shower broke again.

"I'm done." Georgia says as she wonders back into my bedroom.

My eyes travel from the tv and wander to Georgia as she walks into my room wearing a small towel, her tits and ass slightly showing. She comes over and sits on the bed with me.

"Fuck." I whisper to myself.

"What's up Y/n?" Georgia giggled.

"You, you're killing me." I huff.

I bite my lip and run my finger up her back slightly tracing patterns on her back. I smile as she begins to fidget at the sensation.

"I need you Stanway. I need to cum so bad." I whisper.

"We can't Baby, we're still in November. You'll fail your challenge." Georgia whispers back.

I smirk and show her the time and the date.

12 am December 1st

"It's now December 1st." I say kissing her bare shoulder. "You've been a naughty girl the past 3 days. I think you owe me a release."

Georgia smiles and leans back against me. "Mmm maybe I should reward you for completing your challenge."

Georgia gets up and undoes her towel letting it drop to the floor. I sat there, my mouth wide open looking at the sight Georgia has gifted me, her beautiful tits exposed my length grew immediately as I get harder from the sight.

"Someone's hard." Georgia giggles. She slowly pulls my boxers down exposing my hard length. She bites her lip and slides my boxers down my legs and tosses them off to the side.

"Please Georgia." I whispered.

Georgie's slowly made her way between my legs as she laid down kissing the insides of both my thighs making my dick harder.

"You're so big." Georgia whispered planting kisses along my dick and balls.

"T-Thank you baby. I r-really need this release it's been so long." I begged slightly.

"I know baby, just relax I'm gonna reward you." Georgia smiles, as she slowly takes my dick in her mouth.

Getting used to my size, Georgia slowly bobs her head. I moan, she hums against my dick and bobs her head a little bit faster. She chokes and gags as the tip of my dick hits the back of her throat, Georgia bobs her head faster and faster.

"Mmm fuck G, your mouth. It's so warm it feels so nice." I moaned gripping the back of her hair.

Georgia hummed in response. Sending the sensation down my dick making me a moaning mess. The view of Georgias head bobbing up and down as well as her fat ass wiggling around was making me more turned on.

I moaned in pleasure and gripped the sheets, Georgia continued to devour my dick. Wrapping her arms around my legs she sped her head movement making me closer and closer needing to explode.

"Baby I'm gonna cum buckets if you keep doing that." I moaned as my grip on Georgias hair tightened.

The only noise coming from Georgia was the noise of her gags as my dick repeatedly hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck G I'm... I'm gon-"

Throat pie:

Not being able to warn her in time, I explode in her mouth shooting my load in her mouth and down her throat, Georgia chokes and gags as I cum.

"F-Fuck, sorry I couldn't warn you." I moaned in pleasure.

"It's okay." Georgia smiled. "You tasted amazing." She giggles as she licked her lips collecting the last of my cum.

"I want you to fuck me, use me as your reward." Georgia says as she lays on her side.

"Are you sure baby? I don't have a condom." I say.

"Yes I'm sure. Put it in baby." Georgia says.

Georgia lays on her side, I grip her leg and hold it in the air with my free hand as I rub my tip through her folds causing Georgina to moan at the feeling.

"Mmm f-fuck, Y/n please I need you." Georgia moans.

I was no time and immediately slide my throbbing dick inside of her dripping pussy, and begin to thrust in and out of her slowly.

"F-Fuck, you're so tight baby." I moan in her ear.

"Mmm all for you baby." Georgia moans as she turns her head and kisses me.

I'm shocked at first but immediately start kissing back. Once I knew Georgia was used to my size I pick up the pace and thrust in and out of her faster.

"Keep your leg up in the air." I softly moaned.

Georgia does as I say and keeps her leg raised in the air as I gripped her ass with my spare hand, forcing a moan out of Georgias mouth.

"Faster, please fuck me faster Y/n." Georgia moaned.

I thrust in and out of Georgia faster than before, my balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room.

"Where shall I cum G?" I ask as I carry on fucking her.

"I-Inside... of me." Georgia cutely stutters as she moans.

"Are you sure baby? I can pull out and finish on you." I moan.

"Yes, Yes baby, stop asking questions and just cum in me. Make me your cum slut." Georgia moans.

"Mmm fuck okay baby." I replied, a fire set alight in my stomach as I begin to fuck her even faster.

Moving my hand from Georgias ass to her tits. I grip right tit tightly as I begin to kiss her neck as I fuck had faster and harder than before.

"Fuck Y/n. I'm going to cum." Georgia moans.

"Same baby, cum for me." I moaned as I feel the feeling of my balls tighten.

"FFFucccckk I'm cumming. I'm cumming." Georgia yelled as she reached her high, and squirts all over my abs, dick and legs.

"Georgia... I'm gonna cum." I yell in pleasure.

Creampie #1:

I couldn't take it anymore, cum oozes out of my dick filling up Georgias pussy filling her to the brim. A final spank to her ass I slowly pull out, cum leaks out of her pussy and onto the bed sheets.

"Fuck G, you've made such a mess all over my thighs stomach and the bed sheets." I giggle.

"Sorry daddy." Georgia cutely giggles. "It's been worth it so far though hasn't it?"

"So worth it." I smile. "But I'm not done with you yet." I giggle. "See my desk baby, bend over my desk." I say.

Georgia smirks, she blushes darkly. She climbs off the bed and makes her way over to the desk, and bends over giving me full access to her ass.

"Fuck baby is this all for me?" I ask biting my lip, I smirk and slap her ass.

Georgia moans as I do this and cutely giggles. "All for you daddy, all for your reward." She cutely blushes.

I slowly began to tease her asshole with my tip, slowly getting her prepared for my length. I place my hand on her back and slowly enter her ass. Georgia moans and grips the desk.

"F-Fuck, Y/n you're massive." She yells in a mix of pain and pleasure.

I moan and speed up my thrusts and move my hand from her back to gripping her hair, pulling it allowing me to go even deeper inside her.

"Fuck this is amazing. You feel amazing babe." I say softly as I use my spare hand and grip her ass.

The view of Georgia fidgeting from the pleasure, trying to grip any part of the desk she could as I continued to fuck her made me go even faster. Watching as her ass rippled after each thrust, her fat ass bouncing off my thighs was a view I've dreamed of seeing.

I move my hands and grip her hips and pull her into me. This cause me to go deeper inside her, making us both moan loudly in pleasure.

"G I feel like I'm going to explode already." I moan, my thrusts becoming slower.

"Cum all over my back. I want you to make a mess on my back." Georgia moaned sweat dripping down her back.

5 minutes pass, the only sounds in the room were our moans and my balls slapping against her skin. I moan as I slowly reach my high, i feel the sudden urge building up as I quickly pull out of Georgias ass.

"It's coming Georgia." I moan, and stroke my dick fast as I roughly grip her ass.

Cumshot:

"F-Fuck." I moan, ropes of cum spurt and shoot out of my dick and coats Georgias back. "Fuck Georgia." I spank her ass. "Your back is covered in cum baby." I giggle.

"Fuck I love the way you painted my back." Georgia giggles, she gets off the desk. Her back still covered in my load.

"Such a dirty slut." I moaned bringing her into a lovingly kiss.

"I want to ride you." Georgia whispers. "I want to bounce up and down on that big length of yours." Georgia added gripping my dick.

"Y-Yes please G, that would be amazing." I stutter.

Watching Georgia turn around and guide my length into her entrance sent me crazy. My jaw dropped open as she started to ride me, holding onto my legs to stabilize herself.

"Oh fuck Georgia." I moaned gripping her hips as I help her slide up and down on my length.

"Fuck, you deserve this Y/n." Georgia moaned back.

I spanked her ass as she sped up her movement. My head leaning back against the headboard behind me, taking in the view and the feeling Georgia was sending through my body.

"By the way Y/n, my shower was never broken." Georgia giggled moaning from the friction as she rides me faster.

"I know it wasn't." I giggle.

Immediately after Georgia said what she said I wrapped my arms around her body lifting her up. I begin to thrust in and out of her pussy making Georgia a moaning mess, the sounds of my thighs hitting her ass continuously.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Y/n I'm going to.... I'm going to cum ." Georgia screamed in pleasure.

"This is what you get for lying to me, now cum for me baby. Cum all over my dick, be a good slut and cum everywhere." I moaned as I sped up the thrusts and thrust into her faster and kiss her neck.

"F-Fuck Y/n I'm cumming." Georgia moaned, her body shivering in my grip.

"Mmm good girl." I say as I feel her juices coat my dick and thighs.

I moan and kept thrusting into her as she came down from her high. "Fuck baby I'm getting close." I moaned in pleasure gripping Georgias right tit.

"Cum inside me Y/n, I'm on a pill you can cum inside me." She moaned as she placed her hand on my cheek brining me in for a kiss.

"Fuck Georgia I'm, I'm..

Creampie:

I couldn't take it anymore, the sight of Georgia ass rippling as I kept thrusting into her. My thick cum shooting inside her pussy filling her to the brim as I push her down bottoming out inside of her.

"Oh Georgia, fuck I'm cumming." I moan as my cum continues to ooze inside her and along her walls white.

"Fuck Y/n, you've just filled me up baby." Georgia giggled as she kisses my cheek.

I pull out slowly, cum oozing out of Georgia. Running down her leg, laying beside me we smile and lock eyes with each other.

"I want more Y/n." Georgia whispers. "You've waited so long, put up with all my teasing.... You deserve it." Georgia whispers and kisses me.

"Mmm I'll try G." I smile and kiss her back.

Georgia straddled my legs as she pushed me back down so I was lying fully on my back. "I'm going to ride you again, but you can't move your hands from here." Georgia says moving my hands to grip her ass. "If you love them I stop, no matter how close you are. Okay?"

"O-Okay G." I replied taking in the view in front of me as Georgia leaned in planting a kiss on my lips.

My hands locked on Georgias ass, she lined her entrance up with my length just like before. This time in the cowgirl position instead of the reverse cowgirl position giving me a full view of her perfect tits.

"Georgia your tits are amazing n this view." I smile and giggle like a child admiring the view.

"You ready for them to start bouncing?" Georgia giggles at my comment. "But remember to touching." She added which I nod in response.

My hands stayed firmly on Georgia's ass as she began to slowly bounce up and down, her hands on my chest to help her stabilize.

"Fuck... bounce faster G please, ughh s-shit you feel amazing." I moaned in pleasure. My hands gripped her ass tighter, my eyes not leaving her tits.

Georgia didn't respond instead she immediately began to bounce up and down faster, the clapping noise of her ass hitting my thighs pushing us both on further.

"You...You want these baby?" Georgia moaned talking about her tits.

I nodded in response, my brain still going crazy from the feeling of her bouncing up and down on my length wanting them so badly. Georgia leaned in playing with her tits in front of my face, still riding me. I took her left nipple into my mouth causing my hands to slightly slip from her ass.

"What did I say baby? Don't move your hands or I'll stop." Georgia said moving backwards, her nipple falling out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry." I moan.

"Good." She replied, she guided my head back to her nipple.

I cemented my hands to Georgias ass as she kept riding me, sucking on her nipple pushing me closer and closer.

"Don't tell me baby, just cum. Keep my tit in your mouth and just cum." Georgia moaned as she could feel me getting closer, my legs beginning to lightly shake.

Creampie #2:

I couldn't take it anymore. My grip on Georgias ass got tighter, my sucking on her nipple sped up as I felt my balls tighten once again. Georgia sped up when she felt my cum entering her turning her on all the more.

"Keep going fill me up more." Georgia yelled as I kept moaning and filling her up with my seed.

"Fuck G, I'm done." I moaned as I let go of her nipple and ass.

"No you're not." Georgia giggled. "Just one more, please." She begged leaning in and kissing me. "For me." She begged again.

"Okay one more but that's it. I'll be tapped out after babe." I admitted.

"Yay." Georgia giggles as she lays in her back.

I giggled at Georgias response before getting into position, knowing how she wanted it. "You ready baby?" I ask as I tease her clit with my tip.

"Y-Yes baby, hurry up. Stop teasing." She said full of pleasure I was sending through her body.

I didn't tease her for much longer as I spat down onto her pussy and inserted my length inside her cum filled entrance.

Her breath hitched as I began to thrust inside of her gripping her right tit roughly with one hand and stroking her cheeks with my other.

"Fuck babe you feel amazing." Georgia moaned in pleasure.

"I can make you feel much better." I said as I took hold of her right leg putting it over my shoulder allowing myself to go deeper inside her pussy, making us both a moaning mess.

"Fuck Y/n this feels so good please keep going. Keep fucking me like the slut I am." Georgia yelled in pleasure, sweat dripping from her forehead. Her body fidgeting giving me the sense she was getting close to cumming, automatically making my balls tighten at the thought.

"Oooh G, you're fucking amazing. You feel so good." I moaned as I lean forward leaving kisses all over her neck and chest.

I kept going speeding up my thrusts seeing the effect I was sending Georgia through. Her tits bouncing around as she throws her head side to side.

"I'm going to cum Y/n please. Please keep going." She moans loudly.

Immediately after Georgias pussy began to clamp around my dick as she begins to squirt everywhere. Her juices go all over my thigh, stomach, and all over the bed sheets leaving a mess behind. Her pussy still tighter and tighter making me closer and closer to exploding inside her.

I grip her leg on my shoulder with one hand and her right tit with my other as I begin to feel that familiar feeling in my stomach my balls getting tighter.

Creampie #3:

I didn't have time to warn Georgia as cum oozes and spurts deep inside her painting her walls white and filling her up. Adding more cum to her filled pussy.

"I'm cumming Georgia, fuck I'm filling you up so much." I moan as my cum continues to ooze and Spurt inside her.

I slowly pull out of her, when I knew I couldn't cum anymore. We both sigh at the same time from both pleasure and tiredness.

"You are fucking incredible Georgia." I pant as we kiss again. "We need to do this more often." I added.

"Maybe you can use me as your reward for every No Nut November." Georgia giggles.

"I could work with that." I giggle bringing her into a final kiss pulling her close to me. We cuddle and end up falling asleep at 6:30 am.