#grounding rhythms

[ourlittlehouseinthecountry]

Today on the blog, I’m sharing how we’re slowing things down with simple, gentle summer rhythms that actually fit into real life. Not perfect, not aesthetic—just grounded, practical rhythms that bring a little more calm and presence to the middle of our busy days. So what is a rhythm, really? It’s not a strict routine or a rigid schedule. It’s a gentle pattern—a few familiar moments that give shape to your day and help you feel more anchored, more present, and more at peace. In this post, you’ll find: • What rhythms actually are and how they work in real life • How we’re using gentle anchors to shape our summer days • Ways to embrace slow living (even when life is full!) • Practical rhythm ideas for families, caregivers, overwhelmed women, and more • A free printable rhythm planner to help you find your own flow • A few of the little things helping me live slower this season If you’re craving a calmer, more grounded summer (without needing to overhaul your whole life), I hope this post feels like a breath of fresh air. Read the full post now at Our Little House in the Country. Link in bio! #slowliving #intentionalhome #slowsummer #slowmornings #summerrhythms #realisticrhythms #gentlesummer #everydaysimplicity #mindfulliving #slowparenting #irishblogger #homemakingblog #seasonalliving #simplejoys #motherhoodslowlane #slowandsimple #summervibes #calmsummer #intentionalfamilylife #ourlittlehouseinthecountry This blog post contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I may earn from qualifying purchases—at no extra cost to you. Thanks for supporting Our Little House in the Country.

[pealeii]

NEW RHYTHM GAME IN 2026 NEW RHYTHM HEAVEN GAME 2026 NEW RHYTHM HEAVEN GAME 2026 NEW RHYTHM HEAVEN GAME 2026

[thelittlespanielthatcould]

found a very cool park with a very cool dog

[swallowtailed]

in the early scenes of misericorde & thinking about (a) opening sequences and (b) quickly establishing characters. i love beginnings

[dreamofbecoming]

incredibly drunk man on the street outside my house putting his whole pussy into a spirited rendition of what i think is meant to be stevie wonder. 10/10 being a human is wonderful

[mercyking]

The discography of Sleigh Bells (the band) is so Gary King-coded to me. First album (Treats) reminds me of his obsession secondary school (it even describes having a best friend who gets straight-A grades). The album after, Reign of Terror, is all about feeling ashamed and hopeless...the most uplifting song from it is "Comeback Kid," which reminds me of the persona Gary tries to put on.

The third album, Bitter Rivals, has this chorus in the opening track: "you are my bitter rival, but I need you for survival." It gives me 'how do I define my worth if not in comparison to you' vibes (cough Gary and Steven cough cough). Also, the first lyric is "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times!" What better describes Gary's first attempt at the Golden Mile, huh????

I don't know their 4th and 5th albums very well, but the most recent album, Texis, is just...so Gary. Especially "SWEET75" and "Locust Laced." Some Texis songs are a little more hopeful, too, which makes me think of Gary in the epilogue :)

Gah. GAH. Anyway. If you want to feel devastated listen to Reign of Terror and Texis. If you want to feel like there's a boombox exploding inside your brain (positive) listen to Treats and Bitter Rivals

[sergioguymanproust]

There are two realities that run our lives ,the daytime and the nighttime.Some of us prefer the daytime ,while others prefer the nighttime.Take as an example this barn owl ,he prefers the nighttime because that’s when it ,does his hunting almost imperceptible to catch his prey by surprise. While the average human works best during the daytime.We all have our biological cycles active during the daylight hours ,while during the night circadian cycle was intended to go to sleep.Many of our stresses originate because of not getting enough sleep ,on the other hand ,if we sleep too much we may enter and state similar to narcolepsy. As a shaman we are often associated with night people,because many of the rituals are often done during different phases of the moon , for healing purposes or when searching for lost items or even souls .There is also the case of some of our people who can shapeshift into certain animals and birds as well.Forbidden knowledge and practices with an evil intent are not given to beginners in shamanistic practices,not commonly recommended unless with a master guide after much meditation and prayers.Well ,so much of that.If your reality lies strongly in the daytime ,know that shifting to nighttime will take some effort and completely moving away from people.These two realities must coexist but remember yours and study your own thoughts and needs.As we grow older we may find out we are more suited to our opposite reality in that case seek advice from a tribal elder,they will know what to do.Words by Sergio GuymanProust.

Barn owl, Life on Earth, David Attenborough, 1979

[ourlittlehouseinthecountry]

What does it really mean to live well—right here, in the middle of a fast-paced world? In the final part of The Beginner’s Guide to Slow and Intentional Living, we explore how to build a life that actually feels like home—not perfect, not performative, but deeply yours. Living well isn’t about ticking off goals or getting everything just right. It’s about: Creating grounding rituals that bring you back to yourself Choosing presence over pressure Letting small moments—your cup of tea, your evening light, your boundaries—be enough If you’ve been feeling the pull to slow down, simplify, and reconnect with your own rhythm, this series is for you. All three parts are now live on the blog and linked together—so you can read them as one quiet, intentional thread. Read Part Three: How to Live Well in a Fast-Paced World → Link in bio + shared in Stories #SlowLiving #IntentionalLiving #LiveWell #MidlifeLiving #SlowIntentionalLiving #SimpleLiving #BuildALifeYouLove #RealLifeAtHome #GentleMidlife #JoyInTheOrdinary #MindfulHome #SlowDownAndLive #AuthenticLiving #LivingWithIntention #PresenceOverPerfection #SlowLivingBlog #SlowLivingMovement #LifeThatFeelsLikeHome #OurLittleHouseInTheCountry #MidlifeLifestyle #BlogSeries

[mineallmjne]

.

[benetnvsch]

no one understand my genius,,

[suguruverse]

your personal space has never really truly been yours since you’ve started dating him. his muscled arm around your waist when you wake up in the morning, has become as familiar as the sunrise itself. it used to be cute, his warmth a cozy start to the day. but now, it's suffocating, like he can't bear to let you go, even in his sleep.

you shift carefully under his weight, not wanting to disturb his sleep. his breath keeping its steady rhythm against your neck, and you wonder if he dreams of you as you lean in to kiss his forehead gently. he smiles in his sleep, a small, contented expression that almost makes you want to slip right back into his arms.

the sheets rustle softly as you slip out from his grip. you slowly tiptoe across your shared bedroom, craving the simple pleasure of being able to enjoy making coffee alone. the smell of freshly ground beans fills the kitchen, and you lean against the counter, enjoying the quiet morning.

but as your coffee brews, a twinge of guilt creeps in and you can almost imagine when he'll wake up and wonder where you've gone. despite enjoying the well needed alone time, you knew the longing to be close to him will pull you back into his embrace sooner than you'd planned. almost as if in complete sync with your thoughts, you hear a mumble approaching the kitchen, and then his voice, thick with sleep, calling out softly,

"angel cmon back to bed with me, you know i don’t like sleeping without you"

ੈ✩‧₊˚ gojo, nanami, bakugou, iwaizumi hajime (27) althetic trainer, oikawa, kuroo, geto, choso, yuji, midoriya

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of happening to manage to go away to college ft. a shakespeare theater within walking distance & not just student pricing & pwyw but a freshman course taken at/with the theater / company, fun to think about all the nonzero exposure scattered all around to Theatre that i could be interested in & engaged with & respond to the idea of theatremaking big time but i had no context for this lmao like well i assume everyone adores Rehearsal & Playing A Role & Being Backstage or In The Greenroom just doing your own thing & the Idea of more of this, so that i feel neutral/average really

like on the note of no context, started dance classes as a Thing To Do when i was all of three? four? on the basis of [older sibling doing that] b/c like how else do i choose doing something. also did that w/[older sibling is being taught playing piano] + that i like to know how to do many things, like determined speedrunning of an edutainment learn to read computer program when i was three, except playing the piano never caught on for me (it'd be fine if it got to the point a song was muscle memory but i never got the hang of oh this note written here is [whatever it is without me having to count the steps in the staff] & ah that's here [without me having to look / count the keys]) so that was a miserable half hour weekdayly requirement for years. whereas dance was alright, & for a while the performance angle could be kind of fun for rehearsal, onstage, costuming, but didn't really have Roles, & was yknow everyone doing the same part at the same time & taller people in the back if there's rows, what older students did seemed more fun, plus like an annual nyc trip some did which didn't happen by the time it was relevant to me....but when it finally kind of kicked off like oh boy pointe shoes have panache & Make Noise (i suppose ideally you're quieter with it but ideally to me, Clonk Bonk Tap. & why not) but speaking of why not, that this also involved like oh shows that have Scenes & Roles even if this is all dance w/pantomime, got solos, costumes, more acting adjacent, more rehearsing, plenty of fun to me, unforch one of the most fun shows was ballet but in less Classical form & more character styles & i had the parent who could make anything into an ego issue who decided things Ought to be Classical despite knowing i enjoyed the more character style techniques as much or more lol so that was like, oh boy an adagio claire de lune quartet? pinch me. however a few more wins in there, fun getting to do a Cats inspired facepaint leg/armwarmers character that some absolute random audience member apparently liked so much their dad was like hey your number one fan, can we get a pic. which is in fact a great basis of an interaction to me

had a damper on dance class anyways from like lord the increasing gender "i'd rather not wear fitted dance garments" problems & my left knee getting more sensitive & my just more wearied like i don't see Fun Performances down the line, i was never doing this besides as a hobby, i'm gearing up to go to college where i kind of assume i could fail asap but the idea of keeping up with dance classes too is a bit much so what if we just didn't....meanwhile a drop of Drama(tm) in middle school, but just as like cycle of elective courses four per year so very Brief & i don't think was part of 6th grade's & yknow, middle school. but it was really fun to me still, not sure what all i even learned lol & yet. & like one time it was like uhh write your own scenes / play & Writing Original Stuff has never been a thing for me & is not only unrewarding but yknow difficult like i don't know. writing Vocab Sentences in like first grade i started to get annoyed at how contrived it felt & the teacher complained the sentences were too simple like clearly the context of what the word means is there but i'm sick of making up narrative beats & character arcs that have fuckall to do with me understanding what a bleacher is, but when i decided to Theme them on a computer game i enjoyed then i could rock n roll lol....anyway so Writing Material just became throwing preexisting characters in a bin & just being silly making jokes / stringing some fun plot along w/the acquaintances in the group assigned to be making this, & then Performing it was a high time i was like i love to do fun comedic stuff & be a villain, throwback to fourth grade and doing scenes from julius caesar like yaayyy nongendered casting b/c all the roles are guys anyway & i'm technically a villain which i enjoyyy, but i'm also like i wish anyone told me anything at all about acting techniques, i don't know what i'm doing beyond [talk loud enough]....feedback on the middle school class homemade performance was that nobody really knew what was supposed to be going on while watching it lmao like well that's fine b/c i'm not interested in writing fuckall, could've stood to have feedback that Enjoying Performing Onstage even that goofaroundly wasn't just expriencing the universal baseline lol ah well. my useful personalized feedback from middle school besides that as ever it was great that i got good grades & kept my head down (reading) was the librarian saying nobody checked out rebecca but i might like it, i did have fun & it's like oh nice when there's pleasant nontransactional gestures For No Reason i.e. you didn't even have to "earn" them, i was just getting to hang out reading in the library at the end of the school day. fond memory still like ah being readily handed one of the crushed oreos & gummy worm cups at the end of some early elementary school year Just Because i was there, wasn't that moved by like figurative pats on the head for good grades or what have you when i understood the conditionality of that just fine

in college like Introducing That Shakespeare Theatre like i sure did respond to getting to be up close & personal w/some professional actors & acting & plays, great time attending....kinda was tempted to get involved in the school theatre going on w/classes or productions but at this point it was like, i don't want my parents to be involved in anything at all ideally but especially not something i do suspect i'd genuinely enjoy & care about, plus it was like uh oh there'll be all these ppl older than me with even experience doing plays in high school & stuff :/ but another real damper was being around age peers incl my roommate who still Also had theatre experience & interest much more established & would be telling me like oh you're not a tenor if you're a man or oh you're not doing xyz right that way (based on their own perspective doing a whole other activity) like i love info & tips sure but not people feeling In Charge of me or even giving the awkward biting back genuine feedback wow nice good lmao....knowing some theatre people with theatre knowledge a bit helpful like oh these are some bway shows / cast recordings from like, the '00s & on, i've heard of Some of these, i've seen some macys parade show names....still just lacking context like what the hell Is broadway, just talked about like gonna take a while like it's this location & this technical capacity based venue designation & here's further context yet. still never really Did Theatre but seemed like a fun thing of Course ppl would be interested in, but luckily some Experiencing Performances, saw live stage shows in various mediums at various levels of professionality now & then, in retrospect like oh i think i saw some bway stuff Touring a few times, i just had no idea that was a ting, nobody explained shit lmao. disinterested parents who just kind of expected you to magically Pick Things Up by virtue of existing, but also don't ambiently pick up the things i don't want you to know about, you can bet it all always worked out great....parents at least a Bit interested in theatre / specific shows / recordings was certainly handy like oh okay not everyone would happen to be exposed to some shows even thusly, sure, but again like with no context / further info or really further way to engage with that....also backing off like i ripped off my siblings' pastime when i was three re: dance classes, just b/c their doing lively musical productions in high school seems super fun like i can't Also rip them off on that one (plus even like yeah family / parental proximity & attendance like eugh....)

like that the How Do You Even Get Context like all the time i'd be amazed if stuff i read or watched that i super enjoyed was like Also something i could find in the outside world, other people who liked it, even just the ability to procure it, like wow magical b/c yknow everything is just what i experienced by myself at home w/no significant onlineness yet or way to travel anywhere else. just pouncing on proximate enough things like queer & have to go to church? hell yeah tenor harmonies time & it's always Be Quieter Be Quieter lol well everyone else step it up, there's like 5x as many sopranos with 5x the rehearsal time going over The Melody....but seriously folks. only showing up late for an online breakout popular Current Bway Musical like oh hey btw what Is any of this? & still don't much know what goes on but at least a little more than i did for sure, plus i just don't keep my finger on the pulse of fuckall, i'm not so much more likely to check out musicals for the sake of being musicals so much more than i do movies b/c they're movies, maybe a little more likely though sure lol....& i just have more of that context like ohhh yeah i did super big time like doing live performance & theatremaking stuff the ways i got to / related activities, i just figured like well me & everyone else having the exact same response i'm sure. or same with enjoying taking it in, i suppose

which nowadays it's still like bummer i Never took in any acting technique just b/c it annoys me not to have anything besides idk making it up, also bummer idk how to sing any better than [also making it up] like no technique known barely in the same way, & i just like knowing things, i'd value knowing it just for singing to myself when nobody's around & i like to do a little performing too when pertinent, e.g. more than survive in the kitchen & i'm doing the choreography lol....utterly abstract though like i love to See people acting the crap out of acting & be like oh shit damn wowww, don't Really feel like ah actor au me is just over there....not even sure like ah you can be backstage in other ways, like i do not know how lol plus likewise i just don't think it's gonna come up yknow like we'll cross bridges when we come to them, who knows in this life. but i'm having the highest time ever as Audience, not live & in person but online & lively, like oh fuck yes finally digging into the relatively nicher more specific theatre live performace acting singing musicaling stuff i'd more specifically enjoy like pointing hands to head yelling are you seeing thising getting everything that i want so i do feel like it's worked out well. maybe low level for randos acting / singing instructing just cuz i like to Know & have the Option to wrangle playing around w/effects one can engage with but in the meantime like i Have always cherished proximity & audienceship so. fr Yayyy 💖

[kaitoru]

۫ ꣑ৎ . make it tap out ── jjk men dumbfucking you.

ft. gojo. toji. sukuna. nanami. geto. ── smacking. hair pulling. teasing to degration. overstimulation. rough sex.

g. satoru ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“nghh- oh fuck- looook at youu-” he groans voice slurring with pleasure, his hips snapping hard, each thrust making your tits bounce, your moans loud and desperate.

“takin’ this big dick so- mmph- so goddamn well, baby.” his hands grip your thighs spreading you wide, and he leans down, lips brushing your ear, breath hot and teasing.

“cant think straight right now, huh? just a drooling mess for this fuckin' cock.”

“satoru- ngh-” you gasp voice breaking as he hits deep, your pussy clenching around him, slick dripping onto the sheets.

you’re trying to keep up, to match his energy, but hes relentless fucking you so hard your brains turning to mush, his words hitting as hard as his thrusts.

“too- fuck- too much-” you whimper hands clawing at his shoulders, but he laughs, all bright and unhinged, like hes loving every second of your meltdown.

“too much? bullshit- you love it.” he teases voice dripping with that cocky edge that drives you insane.

“this greedy little pussy’s suckin’ me in, beggin’ for more.” he thrusts harder, the bedframe rattling, and you cry out, overwhelmed, your nails digging into his back.

“cmon, baby- fuck- tell me how good it is” he demands, his tone playful, his dick dragging against your walls in a way thats pure torture.

“good- so good-” you moan barely coherent, and his grin widens, his thrusts growing sloppy as he chases his own high.

“thats it- nghh- scream it, let the city hear-” he groans, and you’re done for, your orgasm crashing through you, a sharp wave that has you screaming his name, pussy clamping down hard.

he follows, spilling deep inside, his voice a broken, “fuck- baby- so perfect...” as he rides it out.

k. nanami ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“so perfect for me my love..” he groans, his hips snap against yours, relentless, the bed creaking under his weight, his cock fills you completely, stretching you, the wet slap of skin echoing as he drives deeper.

“taking me so well, love, you were made for this.”

“kento- fuck- its-” you gasp voice trembling, hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the muscle flex under your fingers.

you’re a mess, thighs shaking, pussy clenching tight, but his words keep you grounded, even as they push you closer to the edge.

“too- ngh- too deep-” you whimper and he leans down, lips brushing your jaw, his breath hot and steady.

“too deep?” he murmurs, voice soft but edged with that quiet dominance that makes you melt.

“you can take it, love- fuck- you’re doing so well.” he thrusts harder, his hand sliding to your clit rubbing firm circles that make you moan, loud and broken.

“tell me- tell me how it feels,” he says his tone a command wrapped in care, his eyes locked on yours, drinking in every twitch of your face.

“feels- so good- kento-” you choke out and he groans, low and raw, his rhythm faltering as your pussy flutters around him.

“please- dont stop-” you beg, and his voice cracks, a rare slip in his control.

“not planning to.” he growl and hes fucking you harder, the intensity building until you come, a shuddering wave that has you crying his name, pussy squeezing him tight. .

t. fushiguro ۫ ꣑ৎ .

his hands are everywhere, gripping your ass, pulling your hair, claiming every fucking inch of you.

“fuck- look at this ass-” he grunts, his hips pounding against you, each thrust so deep it knocks the air from your lungs, his dick is thick, stretching you wide, the wet slap against your clit making you shudder.

“takin’ my cock so fuckin’ good.” he says smacking your ass hard, the sting making you moan, loud and needy.

“toji- shit- too much-” you gasp voice breaking, hands braced on the table, wood creaking under the force of his thrusts.

you’re soaked pussy clenching tight, but hes relentless, fucking you so hard your brain’s gone fuzzy, his words hitting like sparks.

“slow- ngh- slow down-” you whimper but he laughs, low and mean, his grip tightening on your hips.

“slow down? nah- you can handle it.” he growls pulling you back onto his cock, harder and deeper like hes testing your limits.

“this pussy is beggin’ for it, so fuckin’ wet.” he thrusts again, brutal, and you cry out, overwhelmed, your nails scraping the table.

“cmon, doll- tell me you love this dick.” he demands voice rough, his hand yanking your hair to make you look back at him, his smirk all smug and hungry.

“love it- fuck- love your dick-” you moan barely coherent, and his laugh is triumphant, his thrusts growing sloppier, needier.

“thats it- scream it, let ‘em hear-” he grunts and you come, a sharp, shuddering wave that has you gasping, pussy clamping down as he fucks you through it, coming with a loud, “fuck-” spilling deep inside.

g. suguru ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“so beautiful- fuck- look at you..” he murmurs, his hips rolling slow, each thrust dragging against your walls, making you feel every inch of his dick.

his hands trace your body reverent but possessive, and he leans down, lips brushing your ear.

“you’re- so perfect like this, all mine, aren’t you?”

you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle under his robes.

you’re a mess, pussy dripping, thighs shaking, but his words are your undoing, soft and commanding, making you want to please him.

“too- fuck- too good-” you whimper, and he smiles, all warm and predatory, thrusting deeper, his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“too good? oh- you can take more.” he coos voice dripping with that manipulative charm, his hand sliding to your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you moan, loud and broken.

“tell me- tell me you’re mine.” he says his tone sweet but demanding, his eyes locked on yours, dark and consuming.

“yours- suguru- im yours-” you choke out and he groans, his thrusts picking up, still controlled but hungrier.

“thats it- nghh- my perfect girl, giving yourself to me.” he murmurs and you come, a shuddering wave that has you crying his name, pussy squeezing him tight.

s. ryomen ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“pathetic little thing- fuck- look at you.” he snarls, slamming into you, his dick so big its almost painful, stretching you beyond your limits.

his nails dig into your hip and he chuckles, low and cruel, as you moan, loud and desperate.

“cryin’ on my cock- and you’re still so fuckin’ wet.”

“sukuna- fuck-” you gasp voice breaking, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle under his skin.

you’re soaked, pussy clenching tight, but hes merciless, fucking you so hard your brain’s shutting down, his words a blade cutting through your haze.

“please- ngh- slower-” you whimper but he scoffs, thrusting harder, the wet slap against your ass echoing in the chamber.

“slower? hah- fuck- dont even beg,” he growls voice dripping with sadistic glee, his hand yanking your hair to make you look at him, his eyes burning.

“this pussy is mine to ruin, and you’ll take it.” he thrusts deeper and you scream, overwhelmed, your nails clawing at him.

© written by kaizer | do not copy plagiarize or translate any.

[eatclean-bewhole]

Establishing a morning routine is a game changer for productivity and staying on track with your health goals. My personal routine includes drinking matcha tea, soaking up sunlight on my skin and in my eyes, and grounding barefoot in the grass. Matcha provides a steady energy boost with its antioxidant-rich, calm focus, while sunlight helps regulate my circadian rhythm, boosting mood and energy. Grounding in the grass connects me to the earth, reducing stress and inflammation. This combination helps me start the day centered, energized, and aligned with my health intentions. 🍵☀️🌱

What’s your morning routine, or what’s one you can start?

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ACCIDENTALLY CALLING TOJI “DAD” DURING SEX

Tw - DAD kink, established relationship, father figure Toji kinda, Age gap (early 20s, late 30s) Not proofread.

A/n - Hey so! This is fiction :Þ

You're gasping beneath him, every shaky breath snagging in your throat as your thighs locks tighter around his waist. Your arms are thrown up above your head as his heavy weight keeps you pinned to the mattress. It's suffocating in the best kind of way possible.

He’s all thick muscles and warmth, every inch of him pressing down hard like he’s trying to brand you with his weight. His skin’s damp with sweat, warm and gritty and he smells like cedar, smoke and something darker— like lust soaked into sun-baked skin.

The sound of your whimpers echoes under the hum of the ceiling fan, paired with the dull thumb of the headboard rocking against the wall. Toji's grunting lowly in your ear, rough voice thick with the kind of tired huskiness that makes your stomach coil.

“Such a needy fucking thing, huh?” he pants, teeth grazing your earlobe before he gently licks at it. “Couldn't even wait for me to get home. Practically jumped me soon as I walked through the door”.

You had to, you spent the whole day alone, overthinking and fidgeting and yearning for him to get home, you're always so good for him, so quiet and well-behaved until you're not. Until you're climbing into his lap while he still has dust on his hands and grease under his fingernails. You'd kissed him without thinking, your breath shaky, hands clumsy, and your thighs already sticky where your shorts pressed into your core.

And now, you're all soaked and stretched, your hips twitching each time he thrusts into you. His hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just resting— enough to make you feel owned by him. His thumb strokes the side of your neck like he's calming a wild thing.

“You always get like this when I'm gone, don't you?” he murmurs, eyes locked into yours. “like you miss me too much that you don't know what to do with yourself”.

You nod stupidly, glossy lips parted— your tongue caught between your teeth as you try to form words but they're foggy and melting away under his pleasurable rhythm. You clutch his back like you're trying to hug him, blunt nails digging into the hard, flexing muscles and your voice is a broken whisper—

“Please, please, I— Toji, I need—”

“Mmm? Need what, sweetheart?” he coos, cruel and gentle all at once, his face just mere inches away from yours. “Tell me. C'mon, don't go dumb on me now”.

You try, you really do but your mind's spinning, undone by how deep he is, how close he’s finally holding you, how safe and filthy it all feels. You wrap your arms around his neck like it'll keep you grounded, your forehead pressing into his shoulder while tears burn at the corners of your eyes, voice shaking as it slips out:

“Please, Dad—!”

The whole room freezes and goes cold. Your breath catches and you're eyes go wide, mortified as ever. Even the ceiling fan seems to stop spinning for a second.

Toji stops moving— not fully but his hips are still, his cock buried to the base inside you, just marinating in your warmth while your slick clings onto his shaft. You can feel the way his cock suddenly twitches at the word. His sharp eyes find yours immediately.

His lips curl into a taunting smirk, his eyes gleaming with something smug and confident. “Huh?” he drawls, low and amused. “What was that?”

You immediately panic, your face burning with embarrassment. “I— I didn't mean, shit I didn't—”

He chuckles at how eagerly you're trying to defend yourself. A rumbling chuckle, his nose brushing yours as he leans down to your face. “You calling me dad now, kid?”. He murmurs, hot breath against your lips.

You squirm under him, shaking your head furiously, wishing you could go by in time and change it. “It was an accident! I swear—”

“Accident, huh?” he softly kisses your cheek, nips it then coasts down to your jaw. “You sure about that? Sure you didn't just let that pretty little mouth slip ‘cause I fuck you better than any little boy your age ever could?”

You're still shaking your head, tears spilling now from shame and pleasure and the overwhelming intimacy of it. He's everywhere— rough voice in your ear, chest smushed against yours, cock thick and pulsing inside you.

“Poor thing,”he whispers. “You thinking about that? Thinking about how I take care of you? Pay your rent. Fix your car. Feed you. Fuck you”.

“Toji— please, don't—”

“Dad, huh?” he murmurs again, rolling his hips once, hard enough to make you cry out. “Y'know, I am kinda like a father figure to you, ain't I?”

He reaches between you, thumb rubbing circles over your clit now, voice a soft mocking croon in your ear. “You get all bratty when I'm not around. Need me to put you in your place. Want my attention. Cry when I don't give it to you”. his hips start rolling against you again.

“Sound a lot like a needy little girl who wants her dad's approval”.

You're sobbing now, your hips jerking and toes curling against his lower back, overwhelmed by shame and pleasure to the point where you're completely ruined. “Say it again,” he breathes. “C'mon. You said it once— say it like you mean it”.

You try to resist— teeth sinking into your lip so hard you could taste blood but your body betrays you. You're shaking under him, soaked and desperate to cum, desperate to finish all over his cock but he's not letting up— he'll drag this out until you break.

So you do end up breaking.

“Please, Dad,” you whisper, voice cracking, cheeks wet with tears. “Please, I wanna cum!”.

He growls, leaning down to kiss your forehead, sounding proud and satisfied. “There's my girl”.

And then he fucks into you harder— deep, punishing thrusts that knock the breath from your lungs. His hand clamps around your throat, not too tight but just enough to make your head spin. He’s mouthing at your neck, all teeth and tongue, sucking marks into your skin like he’s branding you.

“Begging your dad to cum— fucking hell, you're so messed up, darling,” he groans, sounding very very proud despite his words. “But that's okay. I'll take care of you. Always do. Now I get why you're always clinging onto me and looking at me as if I hung the damn moon”.

You came undone with the next thrust, your body convulsing and teeming as pleasure rips through every nerve. You sob his name— or maybe “Dad” again— you can't even tell anymore because you can't think straight nor even breathe properly.

He follows moments later, groaning your name like a prayer. Maybe the name “dad” got to his head because now his swollen cockhead is leaking into your womb and filling you up with his seed like he owns you and plans on planting a baby inside you.

After he pulls out, he gently presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and tender against your skin. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his warm chest and you let yourself melt into him, too tired and sore to even think about moving. The exhaustion weighs heavily on your limbs but his warmth keeps you anchored in place.

“Dad, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, a smirk dancing against your hair. “Might have to get that in writing”. You groan into his shoulder, a mix of exhaustion and frustration creeping into the sound but it only makes him laugh— a warm, smug sound that rumbles through his chest. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the slight smugness in his grin, knowing full well how much he enjoys teasing you.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

His hips stutter, the rhythm messy now, almost frantic, like he’s trying to fuck the apology into you.

You've been fighting with him all night. Started small- he got blood on the floor. Got worse when he confessed exactly whose blood it was.

A young charming friend of yours. Sweet boy. You hardly knew him, but you knew enough. Enough to share a few drinks with him in the morning. Remmick would find out. He always finds out. You were lucky he didn't turn you the moment he considered you his own. His family. His. His. His.

"Come on, darlin’," he breathes against your ear, voice gravel-thick and cracking at the edges. "You’re not still mad at me, yeah? You can’t be. Not when I’m- mph- deep inside you like this."

He breathes hot in the crook of your neck- marks mottled on your delicate throat. A few puncture marks or two from his leftover anger, when he had you face down in the sheets. Now all that's left is his desperation.

You say nothing. Your nails bite into his shoulder, and the sharp pain only makes him moan, needy and almost pathetic.

“You’re killin’ me here,” he pants. “Won’t even look at me.” He grabs your jaw- rough and insistent, making you face him even though your glare could cut through steel. “Still got that damn attitude. Thought you were over this.” He scoffs, laughs light, like he can't believe what he's hearing. But his voice breaks.

You clench around him, and he groans like it hurts.

“Oh shit, yeah- do that again, I’ll do whatever you want. Beg if I gotta,” he growls, still thrusting hard, but his rhythm’s off, needy now. “Wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you, baby. You know that.”

You turn your face away again, and something cracks. Not in his voice- in his ego.

“You’re mine,” he spits, patience worn, pride bruised. “Look, I know I messed up," He grits out. "Yeah, I tore out his pretty little throat, but I’m here, ain’t I? Givin' you everything I got."

He's huffing, gripping you tighter when he remembers just why you two are in this predicament. You feel his claws tangle in your hair, tugging gently. Just to show you he needs you.

"Wanna know the best part?" he murmurs against your neck, lips ghosting along your skin. His voice shifting sweetly to that infuriating 'im-not-mad-just-disappointed' tone. "Got his blood under my fingernails still."

Then- without warning, he slips two fingers between your lips. Forces them in, until you're gagging around the metallic tang and sharp nails.

"Wanna taste?" He adds after the fact, sarcastic. One half bitter, one half pleased with himself.

You moan around them, eyes wide and watering. He’s still fucking you, deep and relentless, watching your face as you suck his fingers like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

His hand slides down to your thigh, pulling it higher up his waist. The angle makes you gasp- he notices.

"Yeah? That feel good?" His lips brush your jaw, trembling. "Still mad, baby? Still hate me?" He growls out. Depraved.

You still don’t answer, but your glare is wiped- eyes rolled back into your skull. Back arched, soft whimpers around his fingers. He observes you, scans you over, and finally loosens his hold just a little.

"Please," he mutters, and it’s real this time- raw, low, like it’s costing him everything to say it. "Please, darlin’. I don’t wanna live in a world where you hate me. Don’t- don’t do that to me."

His pace slows, not stopping, just grinding deep and hard, and his lips press to your neck like a prayer.

"I’m yours, alright? Just say the word. I’ll crawl, beg, bleed. You want me on my knees? Say it. I’ll worship the ground you walk on. Forever." He pleads, hips stuttering as he tries to stop himself from cumming. As he tries to convince you this is for you.

Then, cocky again for half a second, he mutters against your neck- the one condition.

"Long as you keep stayin' with me. Just me. Just like this."