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mooishbeam · 3 days

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『♡』 Country Honey

♡ featuring: ranchhand!toji x richgirl!reader

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

♡ wc: 16.5k+ (AHHHHHH)

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

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

“Almost there.”

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

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

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

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

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

You could die right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Chop*

You clutch the side of the parted door.

*Chop*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pompous ass instigatin’ little-”

“-Callous disrespectful pig!”

“-Brat.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit” you mumble.

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

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

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

“Yea, nobody you know.”

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

“Jerk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slip. Crash!

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

Brown. It’s on your face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That shit-eating grin.

“No need to thank me, miss piggy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, and did I mention very annoying?

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

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

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

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

“HEY!”

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

“This is my bathroom you idiot!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get yer feet off the wheel.”

“Mm, nah. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“’S hurting me.”

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

“What did I-”

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

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

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

“Sorry.”

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

“What are you doing?”

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

Your ears perk up, “She?”

“Yup.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe Rosy? Oh, or Susie.”

“Think I’ll just call ‘er (Y/N).”

“Huh? Why my name?”

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

“Why not an A?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

“…What?”

“Oh. Uh, nothing.”

He returns to what he was doing.

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

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

“Yeah.”

“So…did he figure it out?”

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

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

“Can’t. Hands full.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not important” he responds curt.

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

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

“…like someone cut you” you mutter.

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

“I-“

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

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

The space between you widens with each step.

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

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

“Thank you for the tea.”

“Don’t mention it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Everythin’ alright, sugar?”

“Think I messed up.”

“Hm? How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know where he is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of horse is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup, since I got to the farm.”

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

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

“It would be if I never finished school.”

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

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

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

“Forget it-”

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

“I want to help people.”

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant.”

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

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

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

“My bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you scared now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya have no sense of danger.”

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

“...I'm glad.”

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

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

“Ouch.”

“Careful, hun.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Should I write one for you, too?”

“You can jus’ tell me now” she beams.

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

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

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

“Wanna go for a ride?” he calls.

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

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

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

He holds his hand out, “Up.”

“To where?”

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

“Might wanna hold on.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How come?”

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

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

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

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

“It looks cute on me.”

“So what?”

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

“I think you’re a brat.”

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

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

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

“The feeling’s mutual” you retort.

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

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

scoops and sets you down.

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

“I guess this is it.”

“Yup” he agrees.

“Try not to miss me too much.”

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

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

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

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

“Heh. Yes, ma’am.”

“So…um.”

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

“Y-yeah.”

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

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

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

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

“Like I wanna look at you.”

“I wouldn’t mind if ya did.”

“God, you’re so far up your own-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna do so much worse.”

“Then do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you’re not doing good enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you cry.

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

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

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

“Y’know just how to get me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s”

“Pussy”

“Is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna sleep” he grumbles.

“Then you should’ve let me leave”

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

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

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

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

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 11 months

Text

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: your insane, psychotic best friend Wanda wants you all to herself after you go on a date with another girl. smut ensues ♡

content warnings: oh god where to start. get some holy water and read this in private ya’ll. jealousy, possessiveness, stalking, obsession, marking, choking, murder, knife play, blood kink, mask kink if you squint, restraints, sadism, masochism, pain kink, cunnilingus, foreign object kink, throat fucking with a knife, scissoring, degradation, wanda is INSANE you guys

word count: 5.2k+

masterlist

Only Yours

The chill of the night wraps around you, and you bite your lips to hide a smile as you fumble with your apartment key. With the help of a dim street light, you manage to find it, slipping it into the doorknob with trembling fingers as a sharp gust of wind makes it through your coat and settles deep in your bones. Still, it's not enough to dull the warmth of the successful date you’d been on all evening.

You’d had a lovely night, the two of you walking around a pumpkin patch as you talked for hours. By the end of it, you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until your feet had started throbbing from walking around mindlessly. The slowly reddening skin of your cheek still tingles from where she’d kissed you, and you catch yourself smiling as you remember how shy she’d gotten right afterward. With the promise of a second date, you’d left after checking your phone to see several missed messages and calls from your best friend.

Worried that something was wrong, you’d left a bit earlier than you wanted, turning down your date’s offer to return to her apartment and watch a movie in favor of checking up on your best friend.

Your hand slips as you get lost in thought, turning the doorknob, and you frown slightly. You hadn’t turned your key yet, which meant that your front door was unlocked. Shrugging it off, and still riding the high of your successful date, you look around to ensure that nobody is behind you before slipping inside the dark entryway of your apartment.

Numb fingers scramble for the light switch, and you blink in confusion when the hallway remains dark after you flip the switch a few times. Sighing, you bend down, undoing the laces of your boots and making a mental note to pay your electricity bill in the morning.

Maybe you should schedule a doctor's appointment as well, seeing as you’d now forgotten to pay your bill (which never happened, you always remembered), and you’d somehow left your apartment unlocked the whole evening.

Your footsteps are soft as you make your way towards your bedroom, your eyes locked on your phone as you pull up your texts. As much as you loved your best friend, Wanda could be a little possessive at times. The evidence of this was clear as you scrolled up a few times to reach her first message, which coincidentally started as soon as your date had begun.

Rubbing slightly at your bleary eyes, you attempt to read the messages as you start thinking of ways to make it up to her. She really hated being ignored. Moving to stand in front of your window, you scroll and scroll, trying to comprehend each text.

It seemed as though Wanda had lost patience, each text more frustrated and desperate than the last. Scrolling to the end, skimming the texts that documented her slow descent into a possessive rage, your eyebrows rose at the final message that had pinged through.

‘Mark my words, you’ll never see her again.’

You scoff, having done this dance with her multiple times before. You’d go on a date, and she’d get jealous that your attention was focused elsewhere, even if only for a few hours. Then, you’d dedicate the entire next day to her, doing whatever activity she wanted until she was no longer upset with you.

This time felt different, and as you look at the timestamp on the last message, you realize why. She’d sent that last message around forty-five minutes ago, which was when your date ended. You’d stopped by the store to buy her favorite drink, as part of your apology that you’d planned out, but your date had only been a ten-minute drive from your apartment.

Wanda had never gone this long without texting you during one of your dates, and you bring up her contact before pressing the phone icon under her contact photo. Holding your phone close to your face, you put it on speaker while crossing your arms, peering out into the street as you search for her familiar red car. You don’t see it, and you frown down at your screen when your call goes straight to voicemail.

Something was wrong.

You feel something shift, the air around you moving slightly as you raise your head. Looking at your reflection through the glass of your window, you barely have enough time to register a figure in a ghostface mask behind you before strong arms wrap around you.

The phone clutched in your hand drops to the floor as you struggle briefly, the scent of blood filling your nostrils as you’re dragged towards the bed. A cold sensation presses itself against your neck, and you freeze in fear at the sight of a knife in the reflection of the window.

The sound of heavy breathing reaches your ear, and you can hear the stranger’s breath shake slightly as they pin you to the bed. You’ve given up fighting, terrified when the knife at your throat pricks your sensitive skin slightly and causes a dribble of blood to travel down the column of your throat and into the hem of your dress shirt.

Rough hands tighten a pair of handcuffs around your wrists, your hips thoroughly restrained by the figure’s strong thighs as they use some rope to secure the handcuffs to your headboard. You’ve never regretted buying a headboard with bars more than you do at this moment. You can feel your throat closing up in fear, your heartbeat strong and fast, threatening to send you spiraling straight into a panic attack.

As the ghostface figure sits back up, their gloved hands dragging slowly down your shaking arms, you catch a whiff of a familiar scent. The air becomes charged, vanilla hitting your nostrils as you breathe deeply against the knife pressed to your throat.

“I only know one person who wears vanilla perfume.” You manage to get out, your eyes boring into the eyes of the ghostface mask. The figure tilts its head, and you feel yourself relax marginally at the familiar sight. They press the knife harder against your throat, digging the tip in slightly, and you tense again.

“Wanda,” You begin, but before you can say anything else, a gloved hand muffles your lips as the knife begins tracing down your collarbone. A thin red line blooms across your soft skin, green eyes taking in the sight eagerly from behind the mask. The sensation is painful but causes pleasure to bloom at the same time, and your cheeks redden with shame as you feel your arousal slowly build.

“You know,” The voice is slightly muffled behind the mask, but you would know Wanda’s voice anywhere. You’ve practically committed her slight accent and lilt to memory, and you feel your heart speed up slightly at the low tone. “She wasn’t right for you. I could tell.”

You smile slightly, having heard those same words after every date. But not the last part, you hadn’t heard that before. You speak, your words muffled by her gloved hand as it presses roughly against your lips, “What do you mean, you could tell?”

Moving her hands quickly, the figure lays the knife on your stomach before reaching up to remove the ghostface mask. Brunette hair spills out, falling beautifully around the dark black sweater Wanda is wearing. She tosses the mask somewhere onto your floor, her green eyes piercing yours as she picks up the knife once more, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“You’re really oblivious, did you know that?” Her eyes are locked on the knife, sliding your shirt up slightly as she pops the bottom button off. It hits a wall somewhere, but you ignore it in favor of studying your best friend's face.

She’s acting different, her pupils dilated so far that the green in her eyes is practically non-existent. Her chest is heaving, her tongue licking her parted lips quickly as she pops another button, revealing more of your skin.

More of her canvas.

Her knife digs in, tracing a thin line from the top of your waistband to your belly button. Your attempt to squirm, the pain coursing through you as her thighs tighten against yours. She’s breathing heavier now, and the next words she speaks come out rushed and disjointed.

“You didn’t even know,” A low chuckle sounds out, heat blooming at your core as the sound wraps around you. “She was there, and I was there and you didn’t know.”

Your brows furrow, confusion taking over your mind as she pops a couple more buttons. She continues, her knife tracing over your ribs as her eyes roam your face. “She doesn’t know you, doesn’t know what you need. Doesn’t know how to take care of you.”

The fog in your mind dissipates slightly, and you think you finally understand where this is going. “And you do?”

As soon as the question slips out, the sarcasm evident with every syllable, you regret it. Wanda’s eyes flash, and in one smooth movement, her knife twists under the front of your bra and cuts it, slicing through the rest of your shirt as she pulls back.

“Of course I do, sweetheart.” Her words are hissed, her hands rough as she removes your shirt. “I’m the only one who does.”

The knife is abandoned momentarily as Wanda traces her nails over the thin, red lines the cold metal had left behind. Swiping her thumb over the small cut on your neck, she brings it to her lips, groaning slightly as she sucks the blood off of her finger.

Watching, your lips part at the sight, almost against your will. You try to shake yourself out of it, out of whatever daze Wanda had put you in, but as soon as your head moves her eyes are back on yours.

“She tried to take you from me, they all did. So I took them away from you.” Her eyes are wide, her fingers frenzied as they dig into your skin, dragging from the underside of your breasts and down your torso. Harsh, raised lines appear, and you pant slightly as your hips raise in an attempt to throw her off.

“Didn’t you ever question why they never responded to you after the first date?” Her words cause you to stop struggling, your movements halting as the pieces begin to click into place. You remembered all the times you’d cried into Wanda’s shoulder because you couldn't understand what had gone so wrong on the first date, that caused every girl to ghost you the day after. Snapping your eyes to hers, you see her nod as realization dawns on your face.

Wanda chuckles, moving closer until her mouth is close to the cut on your throat. The sound sends heat straight to your core, and your mind is thrown back into a confused haze. “You really are dumb, you need someone else to do the thinking for you, sweetheart.”

Without any more preamble, her lips meet your skin and suck. It's been long, much too long since you’ve felt pleasure like this. You find yourself holding back moans as her lips continue to suck, her tongue dragging along your skin as she marks your neck. Her teeth are rough, digging into your skin slightly as dark bruises bloom in a ring around your throat.

You're hers. And now everyone will be able to see it.

A pathetic whimper escapes you, and Wanda smiles against your skin. That’s exactly what she’d been waiting for, and she pulls back briefly to take in your half-lidded eyes and blown pupils.

You have one last question, and before you can think too hard about the consequences of questioning Wanda, it pushes past your lips. “What do you mean, you took them away?”

The words hang in the air, silence filling the room as a slow smile makes its way onto Wanda’s face. She slowly reaches for her knife, a faraway look in her eyes as she traces the tip of it around your nipple. “I wasn’t going to risk you being taken from me.”

“Wanda.”

Her eyes meet yours, her gaze hot as she takes in your pleading expression. She sighs, knowing that you won’t let the topic go until you're satisfied with her answer. Digging the tip of the blade into the top of your breast, she watches the blood bead around it while you wince.

“Don’t interrupt me again.” Her words are hard, and you nod quickly. She rewards you by pulling the blade away and soothing the cut with her tongue. A moan escapes her when the sweet taste of your blood hits her taste buds, and she laps up as much of it as she can before pulling away to answer your unspoken request.

Her eyes glint, and dread pools in your stomach.

“I killed them.” She says simply, her tone flat even as her words are slightly breathy. “I couldn’t risk letting them free. Not while I was at risk of losing you. I can never lose you.”

Wanda’s voice is slightly frantic by the end of her sentence, and you can tell that she’s losing control. Her fingers are digging into your skin, the blade of her knife pressing against your ribcage as one of her hands makes its way to your throat.

Squeezing tightly, she watches your eyes close at the feeling, your throat bobbing roughly beneath her hand. She feels practically drunk on power now that she finally has you, and no longer has to hide her obsession for you.

It was easy enough to hide cameras and small microphones in your apartment, seeing as she practically lived there with how often she came over. It was more difficult to follow you on your dates, trying to stay inconspicuous even as rage overtook her at the sight of you with another woman.

The best part, however, was after you said goodbye to your date. She loved the rush of power she received when the first thing you did was respond to her texts. She must have been on your mind during the date if you texted her as soon as it was over, right?

Wanda couldn’t really feel bad for the women she killed, they were just desperate for you. They wouldn’t have treated you right, they didn’t even know you. Besides, they all wanted to take you from her, and she couldn’t let that happen.

She would never let that happen.

The sound of a strangled moan brings Wanda back into the present moment, and her eyes focus on your face as you try to breathe under her hand. Her eyes widen, and she snatches her hand away from your throat as she cups your face while you suck in deep breaths.

“Are you alright, darling? I didn’t mean it, please forgive me. I would never hurt you, I just got upset at the thought of losing you. You know how much I love you, sweetheart. Please, say something.”

Wanda’s body weight is fully on top of you, her hands cold and smelling of iron as they caress your cheeks. It's gentle, and you can’t comprehend why she went from such a rough action to stroking your face with her fingertips. You want to scream, you want to push her off of you. You’ve never seen her like this, with wide eyes and short puffs of breath hitting your face. Her lips are inches from your own, her eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of pain.

You want to push her away, but there are tears sliding down her cheeks and landing on yours so instead you tilt your face and press your lips against hers.

The softness of her lips surprises you, and you find yourself not minding the slight taste of iron as she begins sliding them against yours. She’s a better kisser than anyone else you’ve kissed, and you find yourself leaning into her touch, instead of away from it.

This is your best friend, she wouldn’t hurt you. She loves you.

Sharp teeth tug at your bottom lip, and you can’t help the tiny moan that escapes you at the feeling. She smiles at the sound, and you vividly remember the time you’d told her that you were a masochist, drunk on cheap wine as the pair of you watched 50 Shades of Grey and laughed at nearly every scene.

You should’ve known she’d remember. Wanda seemed to remember everything about you, but you also remembered everything about her. Especially the sensitive spot just below her ear that caused her to whine, something you’d discovered during a drunk makeout session in a dirty club.

Arching your back even more and taking advantage of her slip in control when she groans at the feeling of your pelvic against hers, you attach your lips to that sensitive spot. Wanda practically writhes on top of you, a breathy moan leaving her lips as pleasure courses through you when her hands tighten around your breasts.

Breaking the kiss, Wanda tangles a hand in your hair and wrenches your head back, exposing your bruised neck once more. She nips lightly at the skin, pain blooming whenever her teeth so much as graze the swollen bruises, and you whimper.

“Wanda, please.”

The sound of your voice sends pleasure racing towards Wanda’s core. Grinding her hips down to relieve some of the aching pressure between her thighs, she pulls back and reaches for her knife. She’s never heard you beg before, and now that she has, she wants more.

“Please what, darling? Use your words.” Her eyes bore into yours, and you shiver when you see something hungry in them. She slowly drags the knife over the swell of your breasts and down your stomach, creating new, deeper cuts.

You can’t do much but moan and pant, the sensations quickly becoming overwhelming as pleasure shoots through you with each new cut. Wanda catches onto this, her smile widening until it's all teeth as she feels your hips attempt to roll from under her thighs.

“I won’t ask again.” Her voice turns cold in an instant, her smile slowly fading as she watches you struggle to form a sentence. The knife stops, right on the inside of your hip. The tip digs in, dragging smoothly along your skin as green eyes focus on it.

The only thing you can do is watch, your brain is much too fuzzy to form thoughts, much less any words.

A particularly harsh stroke brings a moment of clarity to you, and when Wanda finally pulls the blade away from your skin, you realize that she’d been leaving deliberate marks. She’d been carving something into your skin. You feel your heart quicken at the proud smile that appears on those sinfully plump lips, and you let out a whimper as her eyes snap to your face.

“Now you’re truly mine.” The words are whispered, but you hear them. Looking down, you see the letters WM engraved into your hip and look back at dilated green eyes in shock. Judging by the pain you’d felt and the amount of blood seeping out of her initials, the cuts were deep and long-lasting.

“Wanda…” You don’t know what to say, but as the knife still clutched in her hand starts making its way towards your throat, you say the words she wants to hear.

“I was always yours,” A wide smile makes its way onto Wanda’s face, and she throws the knife somewhere onto the bed as she cups your cheeks in her hands.

Green eyes search yours frantically, her breaths uneven and short as she studies your face. Her voice is breathless and demanding, her accent slipping in between each syllable as her fingers dig into your face. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Wanda.” Your eyes are earnest and the fear that had been building starts slowly slipping away as Wanda’s eyebrows raise softly. You can see the crazed look in her eyes fading slightly, and you catch a glimpse of your best friend underneath the possessive version of her. “I always have been, and you’ve always been mine.”

You’re surprised to find that you actually mean those words.

“Now please,” You begin, your voice slipping into a whine as you become acutely aware of her pelvis grinding against your center. “Fuck me, Wanda.”

Hands make their way from your flushed cheeks and down to your chest, fingers roughly tracing the raised, red lines across your skin. You’re far too gone to feel any shame about the pleasure coursing through you at the pain, your hips rolling against Wanda’s desperately as she bends down to kiss you again.

Her lips are rough against yours, her teeth biting and pulling at your swollen lips as you try and keep up. She dominates the kiss quickly, her fingers pinching and tugging at your nipples as she slides her tongue against yours, a slightly iron taste hitting your tongue as she does so.

You arch into her, no longer afraid of her touch. This is your best friend, and you know she’ll take good care of you, she always has. And now, she always will.

Wanda’s lips leave your own, and you suck in deep breaths, feeling light-headed from lack of oxygen as she sits up fully and begins removing your pants. She’s impatient, practically ripping the fabric as she pulls them down your legs. Her eyes catch a glimpse of the growing wet spot on your underwear, and she rips them off in one smooth motion.

Before the fabric has even hit the floor, her tongue is hot and needy against your aching core. She didn’t even hesitate to put her hair up, instead flipping it casually over one shoulder as she moaned at the taste of you. She’d been dreaming about this moment for what felt like forever, and you’ve surpassed every expectation she had. Your hips jerk, the stimulation sending your senses into overdrive, and Wanda simply chuckles against you as she holds your thighs down.

You can feel yourself dripping against Wanda’s face as she builds you up, your orgasm creeping closer with each deliberate swipe of her tongue. She eats you out like she’s been waiting for years, which you suppose she actually has. Her tongue swirls around your clit, and you risk a glance down, wrists straining against your restraints as you do.

Wanda’s pupils are so blown that you can’t see any green left in her eyes, and they’re glinting up at you as she smiles slowly. She winks, and you nearly faint from the sight before she takes your clit between her lips and sucks harshly.

Loud moans reverberate around your bedroom as you throw your head back against the pillow. Your muscles strain beneath her fingers, your hips rutting pathetically against her face as you feel your orgasm closing in. You try to signal that you’re close, that she should stop, the sensations threatening to overwhelm you as the pleasure at your core builds painfully.

Wanda’s tongue swirls around your clit once, her teeth scrape it as she sucks, and she moans against your dripping center. That’s all it takes, and within a second you’re coming, your clit pulsating wildly against her tongue as your pussy clenches around nothing, your cum staining her chin as she licks you through the aftershocks.

“Fuck, Wanda. I…” You try to speak, your arms still thrashing slightly against the cuffs attached to your headboard. Her lips move over your still-overly sensitive clit, her tongue teasing the tip of it as it protrudes from its hood. “More, please. I want to feel you.”

Wanda detaches her lips, wiping your arousal off her chin with the back of her hand. You feel your clit throb at the sight, and you bite your lip as her eyes dart towards them. “Such a desperate slut, begging right after I’ve given you an orgasm?”

You open your mouth, whether to protest or beg again, you don’t know. Wanda doesn’t give you the chance, pressing her fingers into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. Your wide eyes look up at her as they water slightly, your lips closing around her fingers as you begin to suck.

“Because I’m feeling generous tonight,” Wanda begins, reaching for her knife. Your eyes widen slightly at the blade in her hand, and she feels a wave of arousal make its way to her core at the sight. “I’ll fuck you harder, but I’m the one who gets to choose how I do that, not you. Understand?”

Nodding quickly, your eyes dart between the knife and her face as she watches your reaction intently. Her head tilts, tracing the blade gently across your skin until the cold metal reaches your overheated mound, and you bite back a whimper.

The tip of the blade circles around your clit and you freeze as Wanda carefully maneuvers the sharp metal around your slick center until your muscles tremble from the effort of keeping still. Flipping the knife until the blade rests in her hand, she teases the entrance of your dripping pussy with the handle.

She winks, “Don’t worry, I cleaned it for you, sweetheart.”

You whimper, biting back a moan as she eases the knife into you. Fighting the urge to fuck yourself against the handle, you bite your lip harshly, tasting blood as she slowly pumps in and out of you.

Wanda is focused on the knife, watching as she thrusts it deep inside your leaking pussy and admiring the juices that coat it when she slowly pulls it out. She finds a rhythm, one that has your thighs quivering and muffled moans spilling from between your lips as the sloshing sounds of your pussy fill the room.

Looking up, Wanda’s eyes lock on your bottom lip. It’s trapped between your teeth, beads of crimson blood forming as you pant and moan. Your eyes are closed, and Wanda realizes that you’re too lost in the pleasure to realize that you’re hurting yourself.

She can’t have that, the only person allowed to hurt you is Wanda.

“Open your mouth, darling.” Her words are soft, even as she harshly removes the knife from you, leaving you aching and wanting more. You comply, seeing the warning in her eyes as she teases your lips with the arousal-stained handle.

Wanda’s lips part as her breaths become shallow at the sight of you sucking your own juices off her knife. Just when she thinks you couldn’t possibly make her like you more, you go and do something like this. She can’t take it anymore, and her own pussy is throbbing, begging her to release the aching pressure she’s had since the moment she stabbed that girl for the first time tonight.

“Good girl.” You smile around the handle at the words, and Wanda smirks. She should have known that you had a praise kink, especially with the way you blush whenever she compliments you.

“You like that?” She asks, moving the handle deeper into your eager mouth and pressing down on your tongue. “You like being called my good girl? What about this,” She pretends to think, moving the handle until you’re gagging around it.

“You’re my desperate little slut, aren’t you?” Wanda knows she’s found another one of your kinks when she feels your hips roll against her and watches the blush on your face deepen. “It’s pathetic how wet you are right now, and I haven’t even properly fucked you yet.”

You whine, breathing through your nose as she fucks your throat with your arousal-covered knife. Wanda continues, the crazed look appearing once more in her eyes. “Is this all for me? Or do you get wet every time some insignificant pretty girl touches you? I bet you do, so desperate for attention that you’ll beg anyone to fuck you. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore, honey. Now I’m here, and I’ll treat you right.”

Wanda pauses, removing the knife from your mouth and setting it on the dresser beside the bed, before she stands and removes her own clothing, talking the whole time. “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even think about anyone else. Your pussy is mine, your pleasure is mine, your pain is mine, you’re mine.”

She pauses, completely nude as she moves to kneel over you. She feels her own arousal dripping down her inner thighs, and your eyes widen at the glistening heat between her legs. “All mine.”

Green eyes so dark they’re black voids of obsession roam your body, tracing paths of fire over your skin as they admire the angry cuts left behind by her sharp blade. It’s not enough, and Wanda knows that it will never be enough. She’ll always want more of you, and you’ll happily give it to her. Because you love her, and no one else.

“I do,” You say, your eyes bright as they lock with green ones. “I do love you, Wanda. I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Wanda realized that she must have said the last part of her obsessive thoughts out loud, but couldn’t help the sigh of relief at the confirmation of your feelings. She gets on the bed, positioning herself over you until her core is pressed against your own. Her eyes meet yours, and they lock intently on you as she begins moving her hips.

The friction is almost too much, pleasure building quickly as you feel Wanda’s clit bump your own. You admire her long dark hair, taking note of the slightly smudged eyeliner under her intense eyes and the dark lipstick coating her lips as small gasps tumble out of them. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight.

“Say it,” Wanda demands, her voice breathy. She moans, grinding herself harder against you as her orgasm races towards the surface. Her hands move, one gripping your breast tightly as the other moves to wrap around your throat.

You try to hold your own orgasm back, wanting to please Wanda. Your words are strained, your tone desperate as you beg, “Say, what? Tell me and I’ll say it. Please?”

Wanda could cum just from those words, but she doesn’t. As much as she loves how obedient you’re being, she needs one more thing. “You're mine.” She manages to get out, her orgasm about three seconds away.

Realization dawns in your eyes, and you smile up at her. It's all teeth and blood from the cut on your lip, and Wanda’s orgasm crashes over her at the sight. Your words are strong, soothing, and low as your own orgasm washes over you. “I’m yours, all yours.”

You feel a tendril of possessiveness worm its way through you at the sight of Wanda coming undone on top of you. It wraps around your heart and squeezes, and you think you understand how she’s been feeling this whole time. You never want to let her go, to let her be loved by anyone other than you.

Wanda leans down, her breath hot against your lips as she kisses you. You kiss back with the same ferocity, biting down on her lips and claiming her as your own. She moans, her hips stuttering against you, and you smile.

“Only yours.”

—

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch

2K notes · View notes

whore4gwen · 2 months

Text

Re8 Women dating HCs

Contains: Lady Dimitrescu, Donna Benevento, & Mother Miranda

WLW

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Tags: Light talks of manipulation, narcissism, and sadism, mental health issues, fluff, angst if you squint hard enough, possessiveness, slightly unhinged behavior, MY personal head cannons, very slight suggestiveness, Mirandas fucking God complex, isolation, religious elements, cuddling, poor perception of love, & tax evasion.

A/N: Im working on sm things rn it’s not even funny. Despite that, I desperately wanted to post something, so here’s some of my hc. No these are not all my hcs, these are just some of the REALISTIC ones I have. These are based on my own personal perception of these fictional characters. You are welcome to disagree with anything I write, but you’re not welcome to harass me about it. Please keep negativity to yourselfs. Anyways, please enjoy!

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Alcina:

-It’s not that Lady Dimitrescu is incapable of loving another, I just think it’s the way she would love.

-Carnal, possessive, dangerous, a little crazed even. Nothing about the lady’s love is sensual or soft. She’s powerful, domineering, and boy does she relish in it. Of course she’s aware of all the things she could do, all the things you’d let her do. So willing, so compliant, so easy to control.

-Alcina is a narcissist through and through. You will bend to her will, to her every need. You’re hers, after all. (We still love you thou)

-I feel like her love is very incessant, very smothering for lack of better words. She’s not exactly clingy, but she needs you around, she needs to feel your presence.

-Always, and I mean always watching you. Nothing you do will go past her. She needs to know exactly where you are and what you’re doing at all times.

-A bit emotionally manipulative. Of course she doesn’t see it that way, she just wants everything to go her way. What’s so wrong with that?

-I think for the most part she’s a little self aware about her flaws and what not, but I wouldn’t say this with 100% certainty. A big part of her doesn’t really see a problem with the way she is. It’s absolutely normal.

-But to be fair, it’s not like anyone would call her out.. so🤷🏻‍♀️

-Pet names pet names pet names. Alcina absolutely adores them. She only really uses your names unless she’s really pissed. In that case, run.

Donna:

-Shy. So incredibly so that you don’t hear her voice till weeks after working for her. And the way your jaw fell to the ground when you heard it had Angie belly laughing on the ground. If it wasn’t for her, you thought maybe you were hearing things.

-Forgets to eat often. She gets so preoccupied with her dolls, she doesn’t always take the best care of herself. So make sure you remind her to eat:(

-It’ll take AGES to get Donna there, but when you do, she is nothing short of the wait. Very passionate, and a little unhinged.

-Like Alcina, she’s a bit possessive.

-She finally found someone she was comfortable with showing her scare, you’re not going anywhere. You belong to her and that’s final. You’re literally stuck, so get comfortable.

-Values your opinion over everything. Her cooking, her sewing skills, her Garden. Donna swoons at praise. A light pink dusting her cheeks any time you compliment her, no matter how minor.

-Poor Donna has been alone for quite some time now. Touch starved as well as touch repulsed. Have fun with that :)

- Canonically, Donna has really bad mental health issues, which causes her to lash out and make rash decisions. She’s not abusive by any means, just a lot to handle.

-She gets into her own head a lot. Constantly convincing herself none of this is real. That one day she’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.

-I know she has manic episodes. Cannot convince me otherwise. Before you, they were almost unmanageable. Your first experience dealing with Donna during one terrified you. You were so worried about Donna, you had no idea what was happening.

-You tried desperately to comfort her. Unfortunately the voices were stronger than your weak attempts.

-After a while, she finally calmed down and explained that catastrophe as best as she could without scaring you off.

-At first Donna didn’t really understand the purpose of cuddling. It’s not that she didn’t want to, she was just truly confused. After having the significance of cuddling explained to her, she fell in love with it.

-Unironically, she’s the big spoon. She loves holding you, making sure you’re safe in her arms. Now, it’s the only way she can fall asleep.

Miranda:

-This bitch is so crazy.

-All shits and giggles aside, this woman is absolutely sadistic.

-Mind games are inevitable. Especially if she’s truly in love with you, in her dark and twisted way.

-Possessive asf.

-Did I already say possessive?

-Miranda is definitely stingy and will isolate you from your friends/family. Why do you need them when you have her? She’s your Goddess, she’s all you need. Never mind everyone else.

-Definitely the type to tell you to take a nap if you ever say you’re tired of her shit.

-You’re not going anywhere. Nice try, but no.

-I know this is obvious, but her God complex is really top tier. I mean seriously.

-Absolutely loves being worshipped, and not just in the bedroom, if you know what I mean. She wants to be put first, she wants to be your number one priority, your Goddess, your everything.

-She will find a way to incorporate her status & power in everything she does.

-She loves you, but you must always remember your place, under her. Figuratively and literally.

-Despite her cut off personality, she’s definitely a cuddlier. Especially after a long day of failed experiments and aggravating meetings.

-Like Donna, Miranda has been alone for almost a century. She’s so damn touch starved yet also incredibly touch repulsed at the same time. Have fun coping.

-Of course she threatened you if you ever told anyone thou. I mean can you imagine THE Mother Miranda being spooned? Imagine what the public would say.

-Fucking tax evader.

-After she gets Eva back, successfully, she lessens up, but only a bit. Like Alcina, she is the way she is and she doesn’t really see the problem with it.

I want all three of them so badly.

#re8 village #resident evil 8 #headcanons #alcina dimitriscu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda is so hot #mother miranda x reader #I need all three of them #poor cutie patootie Donna #wlw fanfic #possessive #crazy #tax evasion #cults #mother miranda #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady beneviento #resident evil #Alcina being a badass bitch

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derangederensimp · 1 year

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Your Roommate Toji

Jujutsu Kaisen Smut

Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

CW: Masturbation, Sadism, Masochism, Oral Fem receiving, Virginity Loss, Healthy Age Gap (Toji is his mid 30s and me being the author and write the stories based on me, I’m 22 so) daddy kink, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Biting, Hickeys and whatever I missed.

🔞 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. WE ARE NOT HAVING A REPEAT OF WATTPAD

A thank you to @poohbea for making the Toji Gif 🥴

“H-harder please go harder” you moaned, tossing your head back into your pillows. The vibrator buzzing inside as you fantasized your roommate in it’s place instead your cheeks burned with embarrassment at your desperation. Right when you were about to finish you heard the jangling of keys and shoes being kicked off hitting the floorboards, instantly turning off your toy and tossing it to the side. You hear heavy footsteps, you think they are walking past but then your door swung right open. There stood your roommate. Luckily you were under the covers and now clothed again after pulling your pants on. A mistake was not having enough time to put your vibrator back in your nightstand. There the man stood, his black t-shirt couldn’t have been tighter as he hung in the doorway. His face was wearing that grin you always hated but the curve of his lip showcased the scar so beautifully.

“Toji what the fuck, knock!” you scolded. “No” he bluntly said before walking into your room and plopping onto your bed, he was dangerously close to your toy and you hoped he wouldn’t somehow trigger it on somehow. “Why should I knock if you are alone all the time y/n?”

Toji knew that most of your nights you spent alone and knocking wasn’t really needed. Nor did you ever ask him to knock before so he knew something was up. He didn't need to worry about his innocent roommate sleeping around and inviting random men into his house. Laying his head into his hand he stared at you squinting his eyes at you although he had a few drinks in him he knew his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Being an experienced man he knew that smell well, you were turned on, just what were you doing before he got home. He smirked at the thought before chuckling to himself

All those nights he’d lay in his bed, cock in hand pumping his fist furiously imagining it was your hand instead of his rough calloused palm. Lusting over what your moans would sound like if they were caused by him instead of your damn vibrator. Why wouldn’t you just ask him to fuck you he’d think to himself almost making him want to ge out of bed and angerly pound on your door and ask why. Show you what you’d sound like with him between your thighs instead.

He was sobering up but knew he could play the part of being more tipsy to see what you would say to his request. Every other time he attempted to hit on you or get you to fuck him you’d brush him off but now that you were horny would you reject him now? If you rejected him then he could pretend the next day nothing happened. Of course his ego would be a bit bruised but nothing a night out couldn’t fix.

“Y/nnn” he dragged out your name while he laid on his side. He finally caught on to your eye movements shifting from him to a spot on your bed that his arm was getting close to. “Seems like it wasn’t a successful night” you said trying to grab his attention. Whenever Toji would go out drinking with his friends he’d always come back bragging about fucking some chick before he left the bar but little did you know he was bluffing. Ever since you moved in he cut that shit out, he knew one way or another you two would hit it off and maybe have some fun together if that’s what you wanted or that he’d make you his if that's what you desired.

“I just want to be between your thighs y/n.”

Your eyes shot open wide at what you just heard, sitting up straighter in bed you went to speak but he interrupted you.

“This thing couldn’t please you now could it” his large hand grabbed the toy on top of the covers before his thumb switched it on. Your face felt like it was burning as your mattress vibrated. You felt like your body couldn’t move as he switched it up a notch making it vibrate on the highest setting “is this the setting you use when you think of me y/n? You look so cute when you blush, why are you embarrassed? You don’t think I hear you late at night with my name on your tongue? You know all you had to do was ask.” There it was that grin again but this time his eyes were half lidded, pupils blown black like he was eyeing his prey ready to jump you.

But he didn’t touch you, he stayed right there just his hand on your vibrator waiting for your response. You couldn’t tell if you were just having one of those very vivid dreams but the sound of your vibrator shutting off and the feeling of your bed getting lighter snapped you out of your trance. Looking up he was heading for the door with his hands tucked into his pockets. Getting up you stumbled over your feet slightly but was able to grab onto his shirt stopping him in his tracks “I took your silence as a no y/n”

“Y-you didn’t give me enough time to process all that you said. You’ve never spoken to me like that before let alone have I ever had a man speak to me that way before..” you tightened your grip on his shirt not letting go. “Oh so the men you sleep with must be boring huh?” Toji tried to take a step forward but now your body was pressed against his back. He could feel your breasts beautifully pressed on him, making his cock stir to life in his pants.

“Y/n” his low voice called your named.

His muscles felt so nice in your hands as you softly ran them on the back of his arms slowly feeling around each curvature, your brain taking note of how he let out a sigh when your nails accidentally grazed his skin a little hard. “I haven’t slept with anyone before Toji, I just use the vibrator” you say as close as you can get to his ear while standing on your tippy toes dragging your hand down his neck before going flat on your feet again. His fists clenched in his pockets as his cock pulsated in his pants. Thinking to himself that it was perfect, his roomate really was this innocent woman he painted her out to be and with her permission he could make her his. “Fuck, would you like that to change Sweetheart?”

“Please” you breathed out, your tone sounding so needy. He was quick to turn around, looking at you up and down. He couldn't help but grin at your face and how you tried to avoid looking at him. Grabbing your chin and bringing his face down to yours he kissed your lips putting his palm on your cheek as his other hand rested on your hip walking you backwards to your bed till your knees hit your mattress. The warmth of his palm on your skin could make you melt. His kiss only became more heated when he slipped his tongue into your mouth lifting you up onto your bed and caging your body beneath him. When he finally pulled away a string of saliva still connected the two of you.

He slid his hand up your shirt groping your breast in his hand squeezing it. He was glad you weren’t wearing a bra. It was one less thing he had to take off of you “I can go slower if you need me too” he said in between peppering your neck with kisses. “More” you softly moaned. His cock painfully pressed against his pants twitching begging to be let loose, biting his inner cheek he knew he needed to hold himself back at least for your first time. He bit down on your neck leaving teeth marks behind, your fingers dug into his shoulders making him groan. “Did you like that sweetheart?”

All you could do was nod your head, your brain was short circuiting trying to keep up with the fact that your roommates lips were on your neck, his teeth left marks on you, and hands were feeling you up.

Next to go was your shirt he lifted it up over your head tossing it to the side, he couldn’t help but say fuck at your breasts, the way they bounced when he pushed them around made his head spin. Taking them into his hands he kissed from your neck down, taking a nipple into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it made you take a fistful of his hair and cry out his name. Filling Toji’s fantasy of hearing you moan his name but he couldn’t wait till he was pounding into you to hear you cry it out instead.

His other hand tweaked the other nipple making you squirm beneath him. He looked up at you with his mouth still clasped to your nipple before letting it go with a pop sound “too much? I haven’t even gotten started yet” He teased. Switching to the other nipple to sucked on it a few times before he kissed down your stomach, stopping at a few places to leave hickeys and bite marks to hear your whines before he got to your shorts.

These shorts drove him fucking crazy, they barely covered your ass and you would wear these while he had his friends over. Toji would often have to go to his room for a few minutes to pump one out after seeing you bend over exposing your entire ass to him by accident and how you’d act like he didn’t see a damn thing. But now he has the pleasure of finally taking them off of you.

Before he could, your legs shut on him. He managed to part your legs a little bit for him to get a peek at your face “y/n comeon open up, I want to get a taste. You’ll let daddy taste his sweet girl won’t you?” He wanted to try out how you’d respond to calling himself Daddy and he wasn’t expecting to see your pupils full black with lust and your hand now resting on his head. “Now that’s a look I could get used to. Spread your legs. Now. I won’t ask again” he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs not breaking eye contact from you while you slowly spread your legs wide for him.

Toji liked the idea of corrupting you. You liked him being called daddy, you liked when he bit your neck leaving marks, pulling his hair, and clawing his back so inflicting pain as well. His mind was swirling with what else you could possibly be into but for now he’d stick with these not to overwhelm you.

“That’s Daddy’s Good Girl.” Toji praised, hooking his around your waistband and panties yanking them off in one swoop. He stared marveling at the sight of your soaked cunt, your juices flowing out of you and onto the plush of your ass. Grabbing your thighs he pulled you flush to his face, his tongue laying flat against you giving one first lick up before he went to attacking your clit with the tip of his tongue and his fingertips digging into your thighs.

Your hand going straight to his hair, taking a fistful of it as your head sank further into the pillow, a moan ripping through your throat as he started to suck on your clit, his eyes staring up at you in a hungry state as if he was asking you for more. Letting go of your clit with a pop sound he put his thumb at your clit rubbing circles into it as his tongue licked at your cunt, slowly putting it inside when your walls squeezed making Toji groan. He couldn’t wait to feel you on his cock. His other hand reaching up to your breast playing it in his palm before he tweaked your nipple. Your moans growing louder and louder either each movement combined making your thighs begin to shake and back arch.

Lifting his mouth from your lips “you wanna cum?” He teased, slowing his thumb down to a stop and just applying pressure making you whine out his name. “Use your words sweetheart” he kept his eyes on you, biting his inner cheek wanting to go back to licking you clean he was addicted to your taste. “Yes please” … “please what?” Lifting his thumb up from your clit. Your cheeks burned at what you were about to say “please daddy” you whined. His smirk couldn’t be more devilish as he dipped his head back down between your legs and sucking on your clit, adding two fingers curling them to push your g spot repeatedly. Your cunt squeezing his fingers as you came, his tongue licking up every last drop before pulling his fingers out of you.

He stared at you while bringing his finger to his mouth licking them clean “good girl” he praised getting up from your thighs and hovering over your face with his. Pulling his head down to your lips you kissed him deeply huffing air as you were still catching your breath. Once you pulled away you tried to push on his shoulders to get him onto his back but his arms stayed where they were beside your head keeping him up. “Do you want to keep going y/n?” He asked softly. “Mhm, get on your back please”

“Sure” he couldn’t help but chuckle. He took his tight black shirt off tossing it on the ground before getting on his back while your hands went to unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants before you tried pulling them off of him, he got them the rest of the way off leaving him just in his briefs. Putting his arms behind his head he watched your fingers coast along his abs then around his waistband before you palmed his cock making him groan. Freeing his cock his underwear you couldn’t help but stare at his size giving it a few pumps watching how it twitched desperately in your hand. Kissing his abs and sucking on a spot to leave a mark you got closer and closer to his cock bringing your lips to the tip and giving it a small peck. Getting his pre on your lips and licking it off.

His hand twisting softly in your hair as your mouth sank on his cock, your tongue licking up his shaft as your doe eyes stayed on him the whole time. He was losing it each second he watched his length disappear into your throat “f-fuck y/n” his other hand rubbed at the side of your hallowed cheek. You sucked gently on the tip pumping his cock a few more times before he grabbed your chin “I can’t take this anymore. I need to be inside sweetheart”

“Impatient” you cooed, straddling him and rubbing your cunt against his cock making him moan your name. He was cursing in his mind at how wet you were and being so close to finally having you. Your lips were sucking on his neck leaving sweet marks behind, the way he could feel your teeth graze his skin drove him insane.

“Mmm I am. Let me take things from here” he whispered into your ear. Sitting up against your headboard he helped turn you around making you have your back on his check. Looking up you saw yourself in the mirror making you put your hands over your face. “Is this why you have your mirror set up here? What a naughty thing. Don’t be all shy now, take your hands off your face and keep your eyes open look at where we connect” His breath was hot on your neck as he kept your legs spread open and hovering above his cock. “You ready?” He stared at your reflection, his tip resting at your dripping entrance.

“Yes!” You cried out as he bit at your collarbone. Lifting you up in his arms he bent his knees planting his feet on your bed. Lowering you slowly on his cock his eyes didn’t move from the reflection of your cunt stretching around him. Hearing you whine snapped him out of the trace the image had on him stopping from putting his cock in all the way “your vibrator didn’t get you ready for my size huh sweetheart” he teased, his thumb rubbing at your thigh trying to sooth the possible pain you may be experiencing.

“S-shut up and just fuck me” you furrowed your eyebrows at him, finally getting annoyed with his teasing. “You’ll pay for that later” he gritted his teeth, slamming you down on his cock. Your eyes went wide crying out his name, hands clawing at his thighs making him chuckle. “You can’t take me yet but don’t worry I’ll get you there” he said, kissing the back of your neck gently before tucking his chin into the crook of your collarbone and neck.

Toji’s eyes were glued to your cunt and how it kept sucking his cock in with each thrust, occasionally looking up at your face in the mirror to see your mouth agape, dragged out moans escaping your throat when he’d quicken his pace to only shove you down on him in one fast movement. “You feel so good sweetheart” he groaned. The knot in your stomach kept tightening with each thrust, his cock hitting your g spot repeatedly. “T-toji I h-have to cum please” you cried, throwing your head back into his shoulder. “If you keep clenching me like that I’ll cum too” he said in between pants.

His hand leaving one of your thighs and going to your clit circling his thumb around it while pumping into you. His thighs were flexed using both his strength from his legs and pushing you down onto him to set a new rhythm. Toji’s breath was hot against your ear as he breathed into it, his eyes rolling back into his head at the feeling of your cunt how beautifully it squeezed him. “A-ah fuck y-y/n let me fill you up. You are on the pill aren’t you. Shit” Toji slowed his pace, huffing out air he was getting extremely close. Thinking to himself he should’ve asked this way in advance, you wore a fucked out expression which drove him absolutely insane.

He watched as your eyes were now at your cunt watching his thumb circling your clit, cheeks flushed and hair a mess your mouth parted. He felt like he was sitting at the edge of his seat “I want you to fill me up Toji” your voice sounded so seductive the way your eyes were hooded, staring back at him in the mirror. He couldn’t help but grin picking his back back up, balls slapping against your ass, his thumb going at a faster pace and adding more pressure as the tip of his cock kissed your g spot. A few more thrusts and you two were done for, your moans combining into a sweet melody. White hot cum painted your walls as your cunt clenched around him milking Toji of all he had.

Continuing to fuck himself into you he just wanted to keep hearing you cry out his name along with daddy over and over again, a ring of your mixed juices remained on his cock as it twitched to life again inside. Your eyes went teary at the feeling, overstimulated but loving the feeling of fullness and warmth. He held you still on his cock panting against your neck before pulling your chin over to peck your lips softly. His arms wrapping around your body, your chest heaving to relax. “You never answered if you are on the pill” his voice sounded deeper than it usually is.

“I am-“ before you could finish your sentence he flipped you over onto your back. Hovering over you, you looked down seeing his cock still leaking cum, it made your cunt clench around nothing letting out a sigh. “Good, I want to fill you up a few more time then” his eyes hooded leaning down to kiss your lips, your arms wrapping around him with a simple “please daddy” escaping through the kisses.

He knew he was in trouble now. You were just as addicted to him as he was to the idea of you. No more bringing his friends over not until he got his full of you and could bare the idea of other men looking at you, no more going out not when you would be sitting alone at home and possibly playing with yourself instead of having him fuck you? No way he shook his head. Toji was never going to let you out of his grasp now.

Masterlist | Part 2 | if you enjoyed this fic you should check out my other Toji fics but recommending next: Fitness Trainer Toji | Headcanons for Toji Fic Thursday. Needy Toji

Authors notes: pls I wasn’t a virgin when I was 22 or loss it this way but shiiiet if I lost it this way to Toji I wouldn’t have complained about my first time 😮‍💨

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butterflytint · 9 months

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fav positions

Summary: jjk men and their fav positions

Pairings: jjk men x fem!reader

Warnings: nsfw, sexual content, missionary, cowgirl, riding, doggy style, fluff if you squint

Satoru Gojo

This man LOVES it rough. Not much of a surprise there as he’s the strongest.

But this man also loves being soft and intimate with the right person—you. He seems the type to love doggy because he can be fast and rough with it but in actuality he loves when you ride him.

He adores how he can see everything. How your pussy sucks in his cock with every stroke. How your tits bounce. How your face scrunches when you struggle to take in every inch of his thick cock. How your eyes flick between his face and where the two of you are connected.

He loves the intimacy of it all. This way, he can place his hands on your waist, let his fingers sink into your flesh as he guides you up and down his dick, occasionally landing a smack on your ass to goad you on. He lives for the sensation of the one thing most precious to him in the world gazing down at him, so desperately fucking herself on his cock—her hands on his chest, occasionally sliding up and digging into his shoulders when the pleasure would become too much.

As much as he enjoys the intimacy, a small part of him enjoys the sadism in it all. How tired you’re getting from riding him for god knows how long. How you’re a whimpering and whiny mess. How your body visibly reacts to his praise—to him calling you a good girl and telling you how well you’re taking his fat cock. How you lean down, kissing his lips as if to appeal to him, quietly whisper to him how much you love him.

That’s when he finally wraps his arms around your frame, holding you close against him as he fucks up into your sopping cunt. He’ll kiss you back, murmuring praise for you in between and telling you how much he loves you.

Suguru Geto

Let’s be honest, he enjoys any position but for some reason he loves doing it sideways.

Thoroughly enjoys lazy sex when you two are cuddling in bed on a lazy Sunday afternoon

While you’re on your phone, facing away from him, his chest is against your back. His arm is strewn across you and his palm is casually slipped under the hem of your camisole, resting on your stomach. That hand eventually glides up to squeeze at your breast, teasing your nipple by pinching it, making you whimper breathlessly.

That ends up leading to him rutting his hardening dick against your clothed ass. It’s just him grinding against you while you turn your head enough to kiss him.

It’s a matter of minutes (never more than two) before he’s tugging your shorts down, moving your underwear to the side to slip the head of his cock in your dripping cunt. At first, he’ll relish how you whine in protest when he teases your opening by pushing the tip of his cock in, only to pull it back out.

He’ll smirk and let out a humored breath before planting a soft kiss on your jaw, “I’m just playing with you, princess.”

Then he pushes the tip back in, groaning along with you as he hooks his hand under your knee, spreading your legs enough for you to really feel him.

He starts off slow, letting you adjust to his size as he bottoms out in you. When he starts to move in you, he’s still so gentle with it. Slowly rocking his hips into you, alternating between burying his face in the crook of your neck or lazily kissing your lips, tongues intertwining as you moan into each other’s mouths.

Then he’ll quicken his pace, fucking you with harsh and fast thrusts. What starts off lazy always becomes messy and rough. His breaths become heavy as he watches how you plant your face in your pillow to muffle your screams. How your entire body is shaking and spasming, clawing at the sheets or at his forearm when he slithers his hand down between your legs to circle at your clit.

Your leg begins to cramp and you’re writhing because of his strokes. He’s not satisfied till he feels you creaming all over him, your bodies becoming sweaty and sticky.

Kento Nanami

He’s a gentle lover that can get rough when he needs to or really wants to. But his number one priority is making his partner feel comfortable before anything else. So missionary is always what he prefers, especially because of the affection in it. The intimacy, the closeness, the familarness, the eye contact, the clear indication of desire—he basks in all of it.

Of course, he enjoys the intimate aspect of it when it’s with somebody he genuinely loves and feels comfortable with himself.

He gets to stare down at you when he’s pistoning his cock in and out of you. He gets to watch your brows pinch together and mouth part in breathy moans and gasps all because of what he’s doing to you. He feels his heart rate pick up and he’s not sure at first if it’s the fact he’s fucking you right now or because he’s fucking you.

He loves this position because you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him against you while he bites into your shoulder, not too hard because he’s so afraid of hurting you. Ever the gentleman.

He gets to hear your desperate panting straight in his ear. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as your back arches. He angles his hips so he could thrust deeper in you, make sure that he’s giving you the pleasure you need when the tip of his cock reaches places deep in you that get your head spinning. His elbows would be propped up either side of your head when he feels your hands slide up the back of his head. Nails scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck, you pull him so his lips are on yours.

When you’re moaning against his lips, mumbling his name between passionate kisses, he’s not sure if he can last much longer.

Toji Fushiguro

Doggy . . . are we surprised?

Yeah, he loves hitting it from the back and would do it against any surface. The bed, the couch, you bent over the kitchen counter, in the backseat of a car, against the wall—and windows. There is practically little room for exceptions here and there.

Obviously, it’s not the only thing he’ll do with you during sex. He loves the buildup to it—the fiery kisses, the touching and groping, going down on you, you sucking his dick, all the banter and back-talk before he finally flips you onto your stomach and has you on all fours.

His large hands are on your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he could watch how your cunt takes every inch of his big dick. He smirks when you glance back over your shoulder all breathless and whiny, not looking at him but where he’s sinking into you.

Once he’s buried himself in you, he starts moving at a pace so ruthless your gasping for air and fisting the sheets by the side of your head. His hands are on your waist, his grip strong enough that you’re sure there’d be indents on your skin later.

He loves watching you under him, how the muscles in your back contract with every thrust—how your shoulder blades threaten to pinch together from how much you’re squirming. How your back arches into the mattress and you’re moaning loud enough to lose your voice.

He loves grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you up against his broad frame and truly recognizing how much smaller you are than him. It makes him yank your head back enough so he could sloppily make out with you, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth.

His thick fingers skim around your hip, drifting toward your dripping cunt and circling your clit. It’s enough to make you muffle a squeal against his lips and writhe against his body. It reminds him how little and how much he can do to get you succumbing to him everytime, to have you crying out his name with tears in your eyes.

He’ll tease you like that for a bit before shoving your head down in the mattress again, leaning over your shivering frame and pressing his chest to your back. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, trying to mask his grunts from the unrelenting pace his cock is ploughing into you. The hand that’s not in your hair is expertly wrapped around your torso, holding you against his body as he fucks you like he wants to keep you from walking the rest of the week.

Choso Kamo

I feel like he wouldn’t have a preference as he LOVES them all lmao but lotus is one of his fav.

There’s some crazy sensation of butterflies stirring in his guts while he’s rearranging yours. Having you sitting pretty in his lap while he’s sitting up too, your eyes being the ones looking down at his, his arms around your waist, and yours around his neck.

What he loves most about this position is that it reaffirms how strong your chemistry is. With you swaying your hips against him, desperately trying to get yourself off on his dick. His mouth is level with your breasts enough for him to catch one of your nipples in his mouth, gaze up at you while you curl your fingers in his dark hair.

He can truly appreciate your body this way too, watch the way you toss your head back or lean back enough to get the right amount of friction between the two of you. With hazy eyes, he watches your pussy stretching out on his cock and those same dark eyes would flick back up to your fucked out face.

One of his favorite things to do though, is grab you by the back of your neck and pull you towards his face. Capture you in a kiss that allows each of you to capture each other’s moans as well. He loves the feeling of desperation exuding from each of your bodies, the man’s a romantic so it explains why.

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morose-melodies · 2 days

Text

when the heretic loves | yandere! dottore x reader

summary: you managed to escape from dottore... its such a shame that he managed to find you :((

content warning: implied abuse (if u squint), trauma bonding, mentions of blood (literally one word) and stalking.

dottore had memorized you - all of you, there was not a part of you that he didn't know.

all it took was a glimpse of you, a passing glance, hardly even that, and he knew it was you - it was you he saw in town. how could he not know? he had spent hours at a time studying you, learning you, and understanding your every action.

you left because you were afraid of him - that was why and the way you felt was justified. you had seen the worst of dottore, all the blood and gore, the sadism of his actions, and the cruelty of his words.

you left because you were confused - he did not treat you with the cruelty that he treated his subjects with, not anymore, anyway. perhaps it confused you - the way he began tenderly speaking to you, those gentle touches of his that seemed to get a bit too rough if they lingered, the way he would allow you to rest in a bed. the change was all too sudden, perhaps.

despite it all, you did not leave because you hated dottore. you had formed a bond with dottore, not out of willingness, but out of what you had experienced while trapped in his manor. it was all too traumatic for you, and to have dottore coddle you afterward, made things even the slightest bit better.

so, how would you feel if dottore approached you at this very moment, hand out, telling you to come home with him? why, of course, you would comply - dottore knew you, he could see it already, the conflicted look on your face yet the willingness of your hand, reaching out to place yours into his.

dottore hesitated, though. he had been sure up until this moment, he was sure that if he saw you again he would take you home, even by force if needed, (it would never be needed) so, why did he dare hesitate now?

dottore was not sure - perhaps he felt some sort of guilt for his actions? very unlikely, taking a closer look at you as you walked through town, clueless as ever, he liked it where he was.

watching you - observing you while you were unaware. he had never thought of it until now, perhaps because he never had the chance to but the mere thought made dottore's lip twitch.

he would not pass up this chance, how dare he? dottore knew you, the you that you were around him but who were you when he was not near.

how exhilarating it was, to have the opportunity to know the real (y/n).

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere scenarios #dottore #yandere dottore #dottore x reader #yandere dottore x reader

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chososdiscordkitten · 8 months

Text

Suguru Geto In Bed.

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader Content: No plot- just porn, just so very nasty, oral (f & m), EDGING (f), dirty talk, BRIEF BUTT STUFF (f), praise, CUM EATING & CUM PLAY, a sprinkle of DUBCON if you squint really really hard, MOUTH FUCKING, use of baby, good girl nd mama used ONCE, he's so mean, refers to r! c**nt as 'she', ROUGH SEX, cream pie, a whisp of sadism, no aftercare Word Count: 2.8k

(a.n) im out here in miammiiii lookin for the hoochieeee daddieeeesss

MDNI

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

One of the filthiest men on the roster. I like to think that's a universal thought in the fandom.

The kind of man who'd greedily shove his tongue between your lips after you sucked him off. Being able to taste himself in your mouth, “You don't have to Suguru-” you'd whisper between kisses as his hands gripped onto the swell of your bottom. Pulling away from you with a string of spit connecting your bottom lip to his. With a small hum he smiled, “I want to-” pressing a kiss to the side of your lips, raising himself onto his forearms, placing a light open mouthed kiss to your neck as soft moans graced his ears in reward.

Pulling himself up as he tied his hair back into a small bun- the sight making your cunt throb, knowing that meant he was about to devour you entirely. Pressing his lips back to your collarbones, kissing down your swelled chest as he peppered wet kisses down your skin.

Looking up at you as he pressed a wet kiss to your sternum, roaming fingers grazing your soaked panties. A cheeky grin on his lips as you let out a stifled whine, Suguru’s broad shoulders urging your knees to spread. Welcoming him with rolling your hips against his teasing fingertips, keeping your knees wide enough for him to shift further down your core.

One of his favorite things to do was get you all riled up, making sure to keep your panties on to overstimulate you through the soaked patch. And when he believed his fingers did a good enough job, he’d lick a long strip from the clothed source of your wetness, up to the little mound he was grazing with his fingers, tasting you against the wet cotton.

To make sure you kept your hands to yourself, he’d hold your wrists in his hands, planted right next to your hips as you tried to find relief in the gentle licks.

One thing Suguru knew how to do best was get you sensitive enough to the point one small touch would make you come undone. It was one of his favorite activities. True, if you disliked it you'd tell him to stop- and he would without hesitation. But the thrill of being driven to the edge of climax, only for him to take it away. Over and over again, it made everything more exciting. Especially when he finally let you cum. Geto always made sure you put on a light show for him.

Looking up at you when he finally latched his lips around your bare clit, your nails clawing into the tops of his veiny hands. Long curling fingers against your gspot as his lips sucked harshly at your overworked clit making your back arch and your head to thrawl back into the pillows. ‘Fu-ck-’ fell from your lips in a choked whine. A string of moans trying to warn him you were cumming made his eyes go wide with excitement, his tongue unmoving as he felt your clit twitch against his tongue, pulling away from you as the waves of the prolonged orgasm crashed through you.

“There you go baby-” he muttered, a wisp of air brushing against your damp clit, watching in amusement as your cunt squelched around his fingers. Ears ringing as your head eased back into the pillows. His slowing fingers making sure to help you come down from the well earned reward. “I got you.” he hummed against your skin, pressing light kisses to your shivering thighs. Suguru always made sure to talk you through the white hot orgasm he’d pull from you, that's just how ‘nice’ he was.

Now I know I can't be the only one who is an avid believer in Geto being an ass man. I like to think he would do anything to you, even if it seemed 'too nasty' ; in your words. To him, anything tastes better than the filth he was forced to swallow on a day to day basis.

You're gonna try and tell me he wouldn't be fucking nasty in bed?

I just know he'd beg- beg. To let him eat you out from the back, just to have your ass in the air- entirely invading his vision as he filled his greedy hands full of what he liked best.

And you being too nice to him. You'd say yes, “No funny stuff.” you warned, knowing he had a peculiar obsession with your ass. Biting into the plump skin whenever he had an opportunity, gripping one of your ass cheeks harshly while you rode him.

Digging his fingertips onto the surface of your ass while he fucked you in doggy- mesmerized by the water like movement. And always- always held his hand on your ass while being out- all but shouting from the rooftops that you were his. And only his.

Geto had never been harder in his life till he held your hips off of the bed- your cunt infiltrating his pointed nose as he lapped at your clit. Your face churned with overstimulating pleasure as his cock made a mess in his briefs. Grunting almost painfully as he felt you squirm in his grip, hearing your whimpers and moans of his name fall from your lips as he overworked the little mound above your cunt.

The hair tie tangled in his hair slipping little by little as he greedily slurped on your puffy bud. That promise of ‘no funny stuff’ slipped his mind as he sloppily kissed from your clit to your entrance, dipping his tongue directly into the source of the mess that adorned his chin. His reward being the adorable whines your lips spilled.

Tongue fucking you as your muffled moans went ignored by his ears- focusing his hazy vision on the sight of your cunt, nose threatening to dig into the overlooked hole.

Sugurus mind trailing to doing what he wished for too long- pulling his lips from your entrance, kissing up the small space between your cunt and the puckered hole that had been calling his attention since he first parted your thighs.

“Suguru!” you gasped, reaching your hand to his large forearm that held you in place, writhing in his strong arms as his tongue lapped at the unexplored territory. “Wait-” you huffed with a whine, feeling his other hand roam up your thighs and press two fingers into your cunts' entrance in hopes to distract you from objecting. Moaning into the pillows as he kept you still.

He would 100% eat your ass till he got pink eye, tell me I'm wrong.

Overall definitely the giving type, only if that ‘giving’ had a handful of rules and you have to behave for him to give. But he will carefully push your unspoken boundaries, after all that's what safe words were for. Only because he likes seeing your face decorated with surprisement and white hot pleasure you had never felt before you had him.

When it came to pleasing him, he always watched you with soft eyes. Examining you closely, watching your eyelashes clump together with salty tears as your throat contracted around his cockhead.

Breathless huffs from his lips were all he offered as you swirled around his tip. I see him as the type to not be able to cum as easily as the others from receiving head, it seemed like a plenty fine appetizer to get his cock fully erect to Suguru. But never did he see it as a means to an end.

The whole ‘I'll give you head so you'll feel better’ thing never worked on Suguru, of course he derived pleasure from your gentle tongue, but he would find himself frustrated as he watched you. Oftentimes a blow job would end in his hands clutched against your ears as he fucked into your throat roughly.

But Geto is no monster, he was ‘kind’ enough to help train your throat to take him and his rough tendencies. Definitely a head pusher at the beginning, blaming you for trying to be so gentle with him. When all he wanted was the opposite.

The first time throat fucking was brought up with Suguru, he kinda thought of it as like- no big deal. But when he watched you choke on his fingers as he shoved them further down your throat, seeing your eyes water and your bottom lip shiver against his long digits, it made something in him snap.

Geto let you set your own pace- at first. Seeing you delicately bob your head up and down, flashing a few expectant looks up at him as you tongued his cockhead. Only for his smug face to be adorned with a sweet smile- watching you in amusement.

But his hard work paid off. When he was finally able to use your throat as his own personal cocksleeve? This man was over the moon. His endearing eyes looking at you; politely sitting between his knees, pumping his cock as he awaited for your lips to part. Closing your eyes and opening your mouth with your tongue covering your lower teeth. A chuckle from his lungs in adoration as he placed his flushed tip on your tongue. “Good girl.” he'd mutter through clenched teeth, grabbing onto the back of your head and pushing you down onto his cock.

And as we established earlier- he’d practically demand a “Don’t swallow.” as he nibbled on his bottom lip, pulling you up to him by your neck gently before he pressed his lips to yours. Coaxing your lips to part with his tongue as his own seed spilled into his mouth. Guiding your hips to hover above his cock. Groaning as he felt the warmth mix with the leftover sap he slurped from your cunt. Making sure to kiss you as filthy as possible. A disgusting cocktail of your messes mixing in each other's mouths. Unashamed as he assisted you with swallowing the mess. Easing you down onto his cock as the mix of his seed and your spit trickled down his throat.

Spit? Not even a question. One of his favorite things about fucking was when saliva was always swapped back and forth. Completely unbothered by the filth.

His favorite position? All of em. But he has a special place in his heart for doggy, but not in the ‘on all fours’ doggy? The kind where your face is pressed into the pillows harshly, and his strong hands hold up your hips to force your back into a disgustingly mean arch.

The thing with Suguru, is he feigns being nice. He’d wear that sweet smile on his lips as he guided you to lay on your tummy. But his rough hands yanking your hips from the mattress, using no pillow to help keep your hips up, and his harsh grip on your sides? That was all you needed to see to know that sweetness was a farce.

Keeping his nose upwards as he looked down at you, cock twitching as it awaited the warmth your cunt always welcomed him with.

In attempts to keep up that false act of kindness, he’d start slow. Pushing his painful erection into your heat, his tip oozing against your own mess. Your knees trembling as you bit into the pillows, hands fisting the sheets- “You wan’me inside baby?” Geto smiled with a crooning tone, being able to feel your cunt throb against his cockhead. Muffled moans were all he heard from you as he kept his tip at your entrance. Trailing one of his hands from your hip to your belly, “Wanna feel me right here mama?” he held his hand flat against your tummy as he eased his tip into you.

The words he tried to say caught in his chest, hearing anguished whines leave your lips, directed into the pillows as he got off on the filth he’d spout.

Humming with a smile, “S-she’s suckin’ me in baby-” Suguru huffed in amusement. Earning one of your hands to slap against the one on your hip weakly, attempting to tell him to be quiet. “S-shut up Sugu-” you managed, placing the side of your face onto the pillows, and as a ‘reward’ for being impolite- he cruelly thrusted his cock into you. Rough and at the speed of light, a yelp from your throat making his lips curl into a sadistic smile.

Geto’s hips went unmoved as he granted you the ‘kindness’ of getting used to the curve of his cock. Leaning over you as he felt your walls pulse around him, opening his mouth and pressing a sloppy kiss to your spine. Earning your shoulders to shudder from the feeling, “f-fuck-” he gasped against your skin, trailing the tip of his tongue up your shoulder blades, “So tight-” he mumbled to himself, holding his hand on your belly as he hunched over you.

Heavily breathing against your ear as you felt his hips apply pressure to the back of your thighs, in some desperate attempt to burrow himself deeper in your cunt.

With an unseen grin on Sugurus lips- “You f-feel me right here?” he stuttered against the shell of your ear with a hot exhale, pressing his hand onto your tummy- guessing where his cock would be and applying a bit of pressure.

Earning you to huff a breathless groan. “Hm? Right here?” He teased into your ear, unable to feel his cock through your skin- but he knew he was more than deep enough.

Pressing his lips to the cartilage as he nibbled on the skin. You inhaled all the air you could, trying to form the words, “yours-so-” you stuttered, face pressed into the pillows making you to slur the words. “I'm so..?” he teased, “so fuckin' n-nasty-” you managed, causing him to pull away from your ear with a gratified smile.

It wasn't his words that made your ears tingle with embarrassment, it was the tone he took- enjoying the way he flustered you with a few words, as though he derived more pleasure from demeaning you than he did from actually fucking you.

“I like when you talk to me like that-” he gruffed through clenched teeth, slowly dragging his hips from yours. Keeping his throbbing cockhead inside, hearing your breathing quicken as his hands held your hips taut and in place.

A harsh plap rung through the room, Suguru snapped his hips to yours- and before you had any time to process the sudden jab, he pulled out and rammed into your cunt again. Nose crinkling at the harsh jabs his hips refused to halt.

Over and over again, the tip of his cock bullied your gspot as it curved into you.

Looking down to his fat cock connecting with your cunt, mouth going slack jawed as he bulldozed his hips harshly into you. Admiring the white ring forming at his base, Geto’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as his mind ignored your slurred babbles.

Various moans starting as curses, only to form pleasure filled whines were forced from your throat as he drilled mercilessly into you.

Instead his mind focused on the thunderous plaps of his hips snapping against the back of your thighs, along with the filthy squelches coming from the sight his eyes were glued to.

Gripping his hands so tight on your hips- you knew he'd leave bruises. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fucked you into your orgasm, not being able to remember which one you were on, cunt fluttering around him violently, Suguru grunted as your walls subconsciously clenched around his quick moving shaft.

“So fuckin’ tight-” Geto seethed through gritted teeth, the pillows silencing your cries and whimpers as he abused your poor cunt, his head fell back as he thrusted firmly, hips starting to falter their steady pace as he felt his boiling orgasm pool in his tummy.

“Cumming-” he moaned with a shameless grin, “M’cumming-” he bit his bottom lip, allowing the pooled orgasm to spurt out of him, coating your walls as you fisted the sheets- knuckles turning white from how hard you clenched them in your hands.

Hunching over you as he thrusted lazily in and out of your cunt. Putting his full weight on you, fucking his seed further into you with vigorous hips that spasmed with every pump of cum you milked from his tip.

With every sloppy patternless thrust, his cum trickled down your thighs- mixing with your own arousal on your skin.

The ‘doggy’ position churned into a lazy version of prone bone. Pressing his damp forehead to your shoulder as he rode himself down from the skyscraper high your cunt threw him from.

And after he'd get his fill of drilling into you- he would ease his grip from your hips and he guid your body to lay down. Eyes hazy as he eased you down from the cock drunk state he fucked you into.

Heavily panting against your skin as Geto held his softening cock inside of you, it wasn't even hesitation, more like refusal to pull his soft cock from your warmth. Pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “So good f’me.” he murmured, trailing kisses onto your shoulder. Placing a soft hand onto your hip as he rolled onto his side, taking you with him as he spooned you. Soft cock still engulfed by your warmth as he hummed against your skin with a cheeky smile. Completely melting into his touch.

This was sososo nasty, I surprised myself actually.

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loafgeto · 10 months

Text

KINKMAS DAY FOUR: IMPACT PLAY WITH TOJI

synopsis | you just love toji’s big hands, especially when they’re groping your thigh, ass, or tit. it so happens that you get an idea of him using his hands and other toys when you both become intimate.

contents | fem!reader, she/her pronouns, explicit language, boyfriend!toji, established relationship. nsfw, use of impact toys (mostly paddles and bare hands), masochism & sadism, breast/nipple play, dry humping??, dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex (spanking, slapping, choking), markings, creampie, squirting, orgasms, pet names, dacryphilia if you squint. if i miss anything lmk

word count | 2.5k

notes | honestly idk how i wrote this like i felt like it sucked so bad

tags | @aydene @biscuitsngravie @homeslices @tiredkitten @get0sfav @erensflies @bleachisfood @witchbybirth (if you want to be tagged, just let me know!)

one thing about you was how much of a morning person you are. waking up energetically with no signs of exhaustion, draped in a bathrobe as you venture into the kitchen— not caring who you’d wake, and preparing the most delicious breakfast that your boyfriend can never deny not ever liking. another reason why you’re such a morning person is solely because of how your boyfriend approaches you when he wakes up.

toji’s not a morning person, never at all. ever since he dating you, he’s been forced awake with the sound of your noisy cooking in the kitchen. but he’s never too tired to slip out of the bed, drag his large body down the hall and towards the kitchen and wrap his arms around your waist. he’ll greet you with a kiss— on the cheek, neck, shoulder, anywhere he can possibly contact with his lips. he’ll pull you back against him, ass perfectly over the bulge of his pants while one hand goes to grope your tit. your boyfriend would gently knead into the fat, absorb your warmth into his body as he whiffs your scent. good morning, baby, toji would whisper— so softly that it sends you shivers down your spine. you love the feeling, it’s why you always enjoy your mornings.

the feeling of your boyfriend’s large hands roaming any part of your body steers you to an edge, and toji knows exactly where to touch that’ll make you pine whenever he walks away. the ache between your legs becomes too unbearable, and you’d forget about your activity in the kitchen to search for him. toji would either be on the bed, or couch, sometimes in the shower or sitting in a chair on the back porch— waiting for you. nothing else is said until you’re on top of him, sinking his thick cock into your heat. you two having sex in the morning was like a regular routine now, but it’s something you both simply enjoy and need to continue on with the day.

an idea struck your head whenever you felt toji’s large hands grope the fat of your ass, slapping the cheeks several times that had you wince— for some reason, you liked it: the sting, the picture of it possibly leaving marks after, and the way it causes your pussy to soak around his cock even more. toji’s hands are always roving around your body when you two are fucking, simply because he wants to feel your delicate skin. the idea you developed just so happens to cause you to buy several things online, not even caring about the cost.

it’s another morning when your phone buzzes, striking you out of the bed and out of toji’s arms. your boyfriend was half asleep, groaning because of the missing feeling of your body. but you’re too excited about the message on your phone that you don’t even acknowledge toji, and leave the room. your enthusiasm felt different this morning and it caused toji to jolt fully awake and aware of the situation. his dark purple eyes follow your figure out and all he ponders is what’s got you like this.

you’re this enthusiastic because your packages have finally arrived— the toys you’ve bought nearly a week ago. after retrieving them from the door, you bring the boxes into the living room where toji arrives shortly after. he’s still confused, having a hint of curiosity in his expression as a hand goes to scratch the back of his head.

“what’cha got there, babe?” toji’s voice chimes in your ears as a smile curves the corner of your lips when you’re cutting the box open. your boyfriend tilts his head when he approaches behind of you, watching as you take several wrapped objects out of the box.

“sex toys,” you reply when toji sits on the floor beside of you, crossing his legs while still observing them. “well, they’re a certain type of sex toy,” you add when you turn to toji, noticing his perplexed expression that obviously spoke out in disbelief.

“why do you need this?” toji proceeds to question, grabbing one of the toys which happens to be a paddle. he shakes it around, earning a short glare from you and chuckles. “well, it’s for us to try. i wanted to try something with you with these toys,” you reply, snatching the paddle from him.

toji raises a brow, maintaining his curiosity. “yeah?”

“use these toys on me, along with your hands,” you simply state, giving your boyfriend a smile.

“like— you want me to smack you with these things?” toji keeps his brow raised, snatching back the paddle into his hands and lifting it up between the two of you. with a nod, toji reacted quite— stunned. “didn’t know you were into that.”

“i just discovered that myself,” you reply, gently pushing the paddle away before climbing on toji’s lap. wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to you and he immediately expects a kiss. “you want to try it now?” a faint smirk appears on toji’s lips as a hand moves to grope your ass and you giggle.

“well.. not now, i still have to cook breakfast you know..” you reply, lifting your eyes to toji’s. your boyfriend chuckles, using his strength to lift you in his arms as he stands. with his hands holding underneath your thighs, he wraps your legs around his waist. “we can have it later. c’mon, baby— i wanna give your new toys a try too,” toji hums, huff following after. and of course, there’s no way you can reject that.

toji seemed to become more spirited now that he was on top of you, lips roughly moving against yours as you were pressing your clothed cunt against his knee. you can’t deny how alluring your boyfriend is— the way his words, his gestures, his damn gorgeous face drags you into a remedy of falling in love over and over. toji smiles against your lips, hearing your moans muffle into his mouth as he slips a hand underneath your shirt, pushing your bra up to knead the fat of your breast, eventually pinching your nipple.

“mm- toji~” you mewl softly, running your hands along his toned shoulder blades and down his muscular back, fingertips nearly pulling the material of his shirt. toji hums, a low coo, as he pulls away slightly. he begins by discarding your tops, tossing them side before attacking both your breasts again with his hands. the feeling of his cold hands absorbing into your skin makes you quiver, but the sense of his fingertips playing with your tits just gets that perfect moan out of you— just how toji likes. “need you inside me, baby- please.”

“i hear you, mama. be patient,” toji replies with a chuckle to your neediness. you squirm under him, continuing to rub yourself on his knee, stimulating your clit to make yourself wetter. toji can feel how soaked you were, even when your pussy was covered in thick laced panties. he smiles, watching as you’re fucking yourself on his knee. “my girl is s’needy, ain’t she? should i replace my knee with my cock now?”

“yes— please, toji! pleaseeeee, need your cock~” your whine doesn’t end when toji’s words struck you like a madwoman. your boyfriend eagerly pushes down his sweats as you slip off your shorts, leaving yourself in your underwear. “get on your hands and knees, baby,” toji instructs as he strokes his cock, and you follow his words— propping yourself up on your hands and knees, arching your back slightly as your hips grind back against him.

toji slips down your panties, leaving them around your thighs as he positions himself behind you, prodding the tip of his cock against your entrance. you moan as one of his hands grip the side of your hips, softly caressing the skin and tingling your insides. your boyfriend seemed to enjoy the fact that a simple touch like that gets you aroused— almost into a mess.

“tojiii—” you can’t help up continuously cry out his name until he inserts his cock into your sopping cunt, widening your walls with his thick girth and rubbing faultlessly against your g-spot. he slaps your ass— harsh, making you wince and instantly squeeze around him. “fu-fuck.. you’re s’big~”

“godddd, your pussy feels so damn good,” toji comments, throwing his head back slightly as a low groan follows when he pushes his entire length into you. he takes a quick moment to indulge the heat and pulsating clench of your cunt, groping and smacking your ass several times that it’d leave marks. “fuck my cock, baby. c’monnnnn.”

you couldn’t deny your boyfriend’s request and started moving your hips slowly, bouncing back against his hips and feeling his cock nudge your inner parts. with your moans muffled into the bed sheets, toji grabs one of the impact toys you bought— you didn’t know which, as your mind was occupied on his dick slipping in and out of you.

toji lowers his face to the area you two connected, chuckling quietly when watching your pussy glide up and down, coating his cock with your slickness. it’s always arousing to toji— to see his cock drenched in your wetness, to see you occasionally suck him in as if you’ll never feel him again, and to see you become messier and messier under him.

you gasp loudly when toji slaps the paddle against your ass, causing you to squeeze around toji tighter than before. he grunts, but a smirk follows as your pace begins slowing. “what’s wrong baby, can’t stand it?” toji hums, giving your skin another smack with the toy.

“n-no— toji, it feels so good—” you mewl, your nails digging into the mattress of the bed. you proceed to bounce your hips back, smacking against his pelvic area. each sting causes your body to quiver, mainly your legs, stirring the fog in your head that causes you to improperly think. “that’s good, baby. keep fucking my cock just like that— f-fuck, your pussy is amazing,” toji groans the praise, smacking the back of your thighs with the paddle that makes you whine.

the feel of toji’s hand caressing the skin of your ass after smacking it with the paddle brings a sensation of pleasure, seemingly that he was trying to ease the sting he inflicted. your moans plummet further out of your mouth, pouncing off the walls of the room as you bounced faster against toji’s cock. the sloppy sounds of your arousal audible in your ears, followed by the smacks of the paddle in toji’s other hand. it’s too much to bear— especially when his throbbing tip is fucking into your g-spot continuously, stirring you towards an orgasm.

as you’re busying yourself on his cock, moaning becoming breathy and trying to find your climax— toji’s attention becomes caught with the thought of himself becoming addicted to this situation. he smacks the paddle on your ass again, groaning when he feels you clench around him tight like before. he likes that— so fucking much.

“i’m sososo close— babyyyy,” you cry out as you turn your head slightly, face still pressed against the sheets as you profusely rock your hips. toji’s cock continues to rub against your g-spot, forming a knot in your core before you cry aloud, squirting all over him and the sheets.

but toji wasn’t finished yet— he tosses the paddle somewhere, lowering his body over yours until his chest is pressed against your back, and starts thrusting harshly into you. your eyes widen with the sudden movement as you were freshly out of your orgasm. your pitch of cries became clearer and tears began welling the sockets of your eyes.

“wa-wait toji—”

but your boyfriend doesn’t stop, using one of his large hands to grab your underboob, fingertips pinching your nipple while his other hand slithers down to your clit. his face falls next to yours, mouth near your ear and you can hear the faint sounds of his moans and grunts as he pounds into you. he’d thumb your clit several times before slapping the side of your ass, but his hips heavily ramming into you seems to be doing the better job. he’d ravel his hand around your neck, gently pressing into your throat before licking the lobe of your ear.

“mm- fuck, we don’t need the toys anymore, baby. i can just use my hands on ya now,” toji grunts, his whispery words purring in your ear as he smiles, hearing your moans stumble out as a response when he chokes you. his hips slap harshly against your ass, causing the bed to shake and creak each thrust he gives. you can barely formulate words as your mind becomes foggy, your tears now streaming down your cheeks.

“to—tojiii,” it seems his name was the only syllable you could pronounce at that given moment, legs weakening as his harsh slams into you increases. toji was reaching his own climax, stuffing his cock into your deepest part so that he could dump his warm and thick load.

he clears your tears just so he could see you form more and have them stream down your face again, grunting every moment you clench around him as he thrusts— deeper, and deeper. you don’t know how much you’ve orgasmed at that point: from enjoying his rough fucking to the stinging slaps of his hips and hands on your ass. a sensation you’re loving way too much.

“i’m.. cumming— again,” you state, slurring your words into the bed as toji’s quickly fucking you dumb. your eyes rolled back as you came over him, sobs of pleasures flowing out of your mouth as your walls flutter around him.

“good girl. cummed so much just f’me,” toji smiles, inching his cock deeper when he feels his climax reaching directly after yours. “i’m about to- cum too- fuck. i’m gonna stuff your womb with my babies now, yeah? would my pretty girl like that?”

“yesyesyesyes! pleaseee!”

without seconds of waiting, toji finally ejaculates his load into you— filling your baby room to the brim with his warm cum, having you mewl quietly as your legs trembled and slowly faltered to the bed. when toji pulls away from you, you’re left laying there— panting, sweating terribly, tears dried on your cheek and your mixed cums dripping out of your abused pussy.

the stinging of the paddle and his hips slapping into you gradually returning to your senses, and just as you’re about to turn around, toji decides to flip you instead to face him.

lowering your eyes, you notice toji’s— hard, red and swollen cock staring up at you as if he’s still got more cum to give you. giving him a glance, your boyfriend just starts brushing his tip against your entrance leaking with his cum.

“don’t worry doll, it’s only 9:34. we have all day.”

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: sooo sorry for the delays! been working on my final projects for my classes but i’m officially exam and college free (as of now) AND IM GOINGGGG HOMEEEEEEE so excited to publish more <3

#loafgeto #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji oneshot #jjk oneshot #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #18+ minors dni

615 notes · View notes

scruus · 1 year

Text

★̶̲ [𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞]

✎ sub afab howl + dom gn amab reader notes: edging, vibrator, rope binding and blindfold, begging, rough sex, degradation, tummy bulge, mean reader, howl is possessive; part 2 of this fic.

lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ you put a spell on me - austin giorgio

Howl’s legs thrashed against the mattress, body writhing against the covers and desperate sobs turned to screams as you snatched away another orgasm from reaching him.

The pink vibrator which was covered with his dripping slick and fluids was pulled inches away from his trembling hole. Clit so red and puffy, so neglected and almost numb because of the repeated orgasm denials. Nerves on fire as his thighs quaked from the rejection.

“Oh god! please let me cum”, he cried, hands clenching into fists which rattled against the headboard, trying to overpower the ropes binding him. He couldn’t. You had laid a spell on them and they wouldn’t untie unless you said so.

Howl knew that, obviously. He was the greatest wizard of the empire! He knew all your tricks. But there was an unspoken rule between the two of you in situations like these. He will submit or you shall make him.

“You s-said you would let me!!”, needy wails so loud everyone could hear it within a few metres of your apartment. Surely, the couple next door won’t come knocking the next morning.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, dancing in rhythm and humming along to his pleas. Such heavenly music.

Slowly, they would circle around his puffy nipples and flick it. However you weren’t entirely mean! Oh no no! You would brush out the hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, or just lean over and press kisses on his quivering lips that were covered in saliva. An act of mercy maybe?

The blindfold was only preventing howl from seeing your face but every touch lingering on his body was enough to tell him of the expression. Grinning, eyes laced with a sadism only he could ever be a witness to. Something playful yet sinister. And fuck did that make his already aching clit throb!

“Aww look howl, the cloth is all wet!”, you mumbled, tracing a line along the blindfold, brows furrowing up.

“Its soaked with your pretty tears”, pouting you wiped the few droplets that were still trickling down his cheeks, a result of the consequent edging that was slowly pushing him to the tip, “-that won’t do”, you shake your head.

With shuddering breaths, “p-please i want your cock please~”, he pleaded, trying to get you to finally give in. To let him feel you buried in his warm walls after being such a good boy. Its been so long now, his entire body was furious. His insides burning with a frustrated desire you just wont allow.

“hmmm…”, you nodded, slipping your hands behind his luscious head of hair and untied the fabric with the spell, ignoring the drowsy smile tugging on his lips. Howl’s eyelashes fluttered, looking up to you seated in between his wet thighs. Shirt discarded on the floor so you could feel his stare run down your abs.

Ocean eyes trying to study smiling lips and that cocked eyebrow of yours.

His unfocused gaze lingered down to your crotch and he licked his lips, salivating. Your pants were hardly able to conceal how fucking hard you were. It looked like your shaft would rip out into the open any minute now. As if you were under the restraint of that fabric.

Chuckling softly, you unbuckled your belt and zipped down your pants. Look at how he eyes it, you squint, so eager. Reaching inside your briefs, you took your hard cock out and hissed feeling your warm hand enclosing around it.

Breathing in a whiny moan, howl’s legs closed in on one another, maybe in an attempt to rub himself. The heat was spreading under his skin and prickly bumps adorned his limbs. You didn’t even touch him yet he could feel it all. All of you. Deep in his bones.

Your leaking dick looked the prettiest in howl’s manicured, prim and proper hands but right now it was getting catered by your own. Throbbing and pulsing so much, howl could count each vein popping out along the length. His heart pounds against his chest, yearning hole clamping on nothingness.

Did you get huge suddenly? because for some reason your cock looked a bit more bigger than usual. Was it a spell? Or was howl just way beyond horny, in a realm of pure lust?

“ohhh…”, howl whined, as the thought of you stretching his cunt out, burned into his marvellous mind. All those times when you were trying to just accommodate your thick tip in at first, gently, afraid of hurting him. And then slowly pushing it all the way in until his blurry vision could see stars.

“shhh…you’ll get it if you’re a good boy”, you moaned. stroking your length up and down as pearls of pre cum dripped down on howl’s thighs. Your eyes run over his pussy lips, peeking at you and the swollen pink nub begging for attention.

Well as much as howl wanted to drool all over that fat fucking cock and take it all down his throat until he chokes on it, it was a plan for another day. For now, he just wants that hot thing ramming inside of his empty dripping cunt and his hands clinging on to you until your chest and back were decorated with pretty marks. A practice of showing everybody who (y/n) belongs to.

“daddy…untie - please”, he asked, sniffling his whimpers in and biting his bottom lip. Ah! The signature puppy look. The hidden ace up his sleeve which you can never turn away from. Come on now, he is your baby. Your perfect boyfriend. The love of your life. Doe eyes which were covered with a glassy sheen, trying to pull you in a hypnotic maze. Naive and innocent.

You will listen to him right?

You laughed, hands coming down to grip his thighs and harshly pushing them wide apart, “oh no no love, you’re not getting to touch me”, his folds being parted by your fingers while your thumb dragged across slit.

His eyes widened, lips parting in surprise, what?, a shaky breath leaving them.

“no…no no no why? whyyy??”, he cried. His arms trying to move and flail around, reaching out for you through the tied ropes, but failing to do more so than just a few jerks. He wants to touch you so bad. He wants to have your body rubbing against his. His hands scratch down your back while you kiss his lips.

“fuck wh-“, you smacked your palm across his cunt, sending jolts of pain. Howl choked out a garbled moan at the impact, head jerking back.

Did you just spank his cunt?! You never did that before!

“Shut the fuck up bitch”, you spat as your palm slapped his clit again, the other pushing his leg down and refusing to let them close in on reflex to the stinging pain. “You think I would listen to you after you were fingering yourself out in the living room like some slut?”, another smack. Howl’s cries upped a pitch as his hips stuttered, tingles firing up in his poor bud.

Fuck it felt so good when you degraded him and roughed up his dripping pussy like the dirty whore he was. His face was a flaring red, eyes all hazy and prickling with a new set of ready-to-spill tears.

“What if my friends had come in with me? huh?”, you scowled, getting annoyed at the thought, “but lets be real, you would have actually liked that wouldn’t you howl?”

Howl nods in response, those glassy tears streaming down his rosy cheeks while his chest heaves up and down. His pulsing hole getting wetter with each passing second and his mind, a foggy mess.

“Would have liked to be fucked by your daddy in front of everyone and bred like a greedy cockwhore? wouldn’t you?”. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. You were breaking his mind now.

You slipped the tip of your cock against his pretty folds, sliding it up and down between his pussy lips and wincing in pleasure. Howl lets out a relieved moan, drawn out and debauched, when he finally can feel your dick flat against his hungry cunt. His hips were trying to buck up but your arm was keeping them down. Whimpers getting more desperate and excited.

“in..in..in…put it in”, he babbled, wriggling against the ropes trying to get further friction on his swollen bud with the help of your dick. He whimpered in pain, eyes shutting close when you slapped his thigh, “again? didn’t i tell you to shut up?”.

Nodding and muttering sobbing sorrys, he pleads. His voice now a hushed purr. Blood thumping in his ears because of the drawn out denial. At the verge of losing his mind. Why were you being so mean?!

A depraved shriek escaped his lips the moment you went inside him. In one single thrust. No warning, no gentleness and no care. Just a straight up merciless enter. His tight pussy lips struggling to ease around your thick shaft, the burn of his ripping cunt tipping over the bucket of arousal in his stomach. And so he came.

Hips jerking up and his hot insides clenching down on your cock so hard, you thought it would break. Choked moans from his throat while his entire body twitched, his head tilting back. A spray of water covered your abs, your eyes widening. He had squirted the moment you pushed inside him.

“holy fuck…”, you panted looking down at the mess. This was so hot. Shivers running up your body. Your fingers digging into his supple marked up thighs. But you were far from done.

Lifting his legs on your shoulders, you began hammering your dick inside his sopping warm cunt. You smelled your favourite scent on his ankles. Lavender. Did he put perfume on his ankles?

Did he know you would fuck him like this?

You grinned and flicked his nub with your fingers, intensifying the stimulation. A look of pornographic bliss on his face. His cute little cunt swallowed your dick all up from the tip to base like some cheap whore. There were sounds of filthy squelching paired with hips smacking against each other, hard and rough.

Howl shook his head, legs kicking up in the air but your gripping hold kept them in place. Staining red marks on the blank canvas of his beautiful lower limbs.

The bed creaked with each merciless pump inside, not slowing down for a second. Not even letting him adjust around your hard, throbbing length. Just splitting him open brutally, working him wide and full. His hands scratched at the headboard, trying to support himself.

Howl was brainless at this point. Just a flesh-light for you to pound in. Eyes watering and rolling back so hard, he could see nothing but a dark looming vision. Hiccuping moans accompanied with loud sobs to ‘slow down’, he was gonna cum again.

“so big, bigggg~”, his cunt was burning, you were stretching him out so much, it was ungodly. Sinful. Absolutely lewd. Your dick was forcing his walls to shape around you. It felt so full. Forcing him to fit you like a glove, because you belong in there. Its your own. “Take. It. All”, your demands bending his soul over.

Howl is for you to own. He belongs to you. His filthy tender hole, his round ass, his adorable perky nipples, his plush and soft lips, they all belong to you. And you belong to him.

He could feel you all in him, marking your claim. The outline of your dick making its bold show every time you pounded inside and it took every ounce of your moral will to press your weight down on it because if you did, you knew howl would come almost immediately.

Rutting into him like someone in heat, driven by a maniac lust, ignoring his screams. “oughhh g-god shhtop”, he slurred, choking on his saliva. He was hardly able to make out his own voice. Body all hot, like someone had pushed him into a vault of fire with you.

But everything was so damn addictive. Every thrust, every vein rubbing along his walls, every twitch of your tip and your rough palms rubbing his clit. It was so deliriously perfect that it made howl break out into a crazed smile.

Thats it, fuck me like am your cocksleeve. Your cumdump. Fill me, mark me up, break every part of me. I am yours, you are mine.

He was loving that hint of pain in his loins. It was mixed with pleasure. And a lot of love hidden beneath lust. It was a recipe of a drug only you two knew of.

“oh fuck…am close”, you moaned, leaning forward to place your lips on howl’s. Bending his knees till they were right beside his head. You lapped up his drool, pushing your tongue in him while howl continued to whine inside your mouth. He adores you so much.

Your tip was kissing his cervix, in so deep its like you were all up in his head. Plaguing his mind. You were definitely fucking a baby into his womb at this rate. Which, surprisingly, made howl jittery.

“ouhh ha-harder!!”, his wails riled you up. The coil in his stomach tightened again as his release felt near. And you understood from the way his voice increased in decibel. Girlish, high pitched moans spilling from his mouth. So obscene.

You swing an arm under his back and he moved into you, his back arching. Your gut felt heavy and close, clenching inside. “B-Breed me~”, he begged and that’s all it took.

You spilled into him. Emptying every inch of your cum deep inside him, till his tummy was swelling up and he could feel it all moving inside. Some of it trickled down, leaking out, and pooling in the already wet patch of the bed.

A strangled moan left his mouth the moment you came undone and his legs jerked on your shoulders. Toes curling because of the shattering sensation. His milky white body trembling in your arms, soft to touch but ruined from the inside. Falling apart in front of you. But that was fine. You would always be there to catch him.

Your head felt dizzy. A known indicator that you came alot. It happens rarely but it wasn’t something too weird.

Within a few seconds you could feel his breaths relax, returning to the easy and lazy routine he always has. Your dick was still sheathed inside him because you knew all your sticky cum would gush out of his gaping hole and then you would have to rush him to the bathroom. As all good lovers should.

But this moment felt too intimate. You wanted it to last for a bit longer. Eyes gazing at his swollen bruised lips and then running back to his eyes. A bit red and still tearful. But they were sparkling. His blue eyes were whispering praises to you.

You muttered a spell and his hands came untied. Landing on your shoulders.

Sweeping a strand of hair behind his ears, you rub his cheek. “Am sorry, i went too rough”, you pout, a feeling of remorse building up in you before you hear his chuckles. Raspy but still adorable.

“I can barely talk right now but-”, he sighed, “-I need to tell you that I loved it”.

“I love you darling”, he pressed a kiss on your lips, bringing his forehead down on yours. “My lovely darling”, mumbling with affection, he pulled you into a warm embrace.

“I love you sweetheart”, you smiled against his lips before taking him in a deep kiss again.

#.rizzler #howl #howl pendragon #howl pendragon smut #howl jenkins pendragon #sub howl #howl smut #afab howl #dom reader #dom top reader #top reader #howls moving castle #howl’s moving castle #howl x reader

2K notes · View notes

soupetomate · 1 year

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 - 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧. | contents: fingering, overstimulation, p in v sex, voice kink (if you squint)

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲… | contents: dry humping, risky sex kinda public if you squint (the public being Nanami's in-laws)

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲? | contents: no curses au, petnames, fem!bodied reader, thigh riding, praising, finger sucking, established relationship, mentions of creampie/overstimulation

𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? | contents: use of daddy/mama/brat/slut, overstimulation, dumbification, breeding/creampie, full Nelson, praise/degradation, begging

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 | contents: stressed!nanami, use of daddy/sweetheart, spanking, fingering, choking you with his tie, light pain kink, some praise, Kento is mean but sounds a bit sweet

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

“𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐠” | contents: light size kink, mating press, big cocks, daddy/princess/sweetheart/mama etc...., fingering, teasing, hints mirror sex, man handling, light pain kink (with toji), light just the tip, squirting, riding suguru’s face, overstimulation, hints at creampie

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ? | contents: stepcest, stepdad!gojo, vouyerism (gojo's bestfriend!geto), f!receiving oral, teasing, you refer to him as daddy, pet names

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐲𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 | contents: hybrid talk, master/pet, heats, knot mention

𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 | contents: bestfriend!gojo, f! reader, first time squirt, dirty talk, praise

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝? | contents: A/B/O (meaning alpha, omega, and beta) no alpha and omega title used, daddy/mama, teasing, knotting, overstimulation, mind break, cream pie, fucking their cum into you. belly bulge from the amount of cum, forced orgasm

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲-𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? | contents: ex hubby and baby daddy!satoru, jealous!possessive!satoru, satoru uses a clone, manhandling, choking, spit, finger sucking, handjob, rough vaginal sex, dumbification, degradation

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌/𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐌 | contents: f! reader, nerd! geto, pwp, college! au, dumbification, praise, switch!geto, degradation, impact play, pussywhipped geto, size kink, mating press, doggy, overstimulation, unprotected, whiney geto sort of, breath play, geto eating it from the back, (pet names: pretty girl, princess, baby)

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | contents: soft dom!suguru, AFAB reader. unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bits of dumbification and sprinkle of slapping

𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | contents: f! reader, manhandling, praise, slight choking, size kink

"𝐒𝐎, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃?" | contents: fem!reader, reader is referred to as “good girl” “pretty girl”, mask kink, slight fear play, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, suguru talks you through it, praise kink, strength kink if you squint, clit smack, multiple orgasms

𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 | contents: Sex Club dom!Geto x female!reader, smut, first time dom/sub relationship, rough sex, masochism, sadism, impact play, flogging, dacryphilia, rough oral sex (female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, spanking, face slapping, choking, humiliation, degradation, biting, dirty talk, creampie, praise kink, pain kink, aftercare, name-calling, alcohol

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐟 | contents: mean dom!toji, manhandling, mating press, daddy kink, degradation, breeding, size difference, "little girl" calling

𝐠𝐲𝐦 𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝! 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 | contents: cocky and muscular gym boyfriend hc

"𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓, 𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗" | contents: threesome, oral (m receiving), slight humiliation theme, hard dom!toji, soft dom!shiu, dirty talk

𝐅𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 | contents: angry toji, heavy smut, locker room sex, slight exhibitionism (they don't get catched), marked up, dumbification, spit kink, cum dump, fingering, soft and apologetic toji, biting, unprotected

‘𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬’ | contents: size kink, teasing, mocking, encouragement, light degradation, biting (once), daddy/mama/princess, toji is very cocky with how you're boosting his ego, big dick!toji struggling to get it all in, pain kink, choking, squirting, mind break, restriction but toji uses his size and weight to do so, manhandling, very light objectification, cock drunk!reader, pussy drunk!toji

𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? | contents: use of daddy/slut/brat, overstimulation, full Nelson, mirror sex, dumbification, begging, size kink, mention of masturbation/sextoy/alcohol/smocking

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝? | contents: A/B/O (meaning alpha, omega, and beta) no alpha and omega title used, daddy/mama, praise/teasing/mocking/praising degradation, biting, knotting, overstimulation, dacryphilia, biting, blood, pain kink, light size kink, fucking on fur bedding, toji is praising you while fucking you like he hates you, mind break, cream pie, fucking his cum into you. belly bulge from the amount of cum, squirting, choking, full nelson

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲-𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? | contents: ex hubby and baby daddy!toji, make up sex, vibrator, forced quick orgasm, overstimulation, Toji is doing his best to sweet talk you, reader is referred to as 'mama'

𝐆𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫 | contents: fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! Toji, unprotected sex, brat-taming, spanking, choking, rough oral (male + female receiving), slight enemies-to-lovers, jealousy (Toji’s side), daddy kink, semi-public sex, manager! Nanami, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, stalking threats, TW. knife (brief), swearing.

𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 | contents: riding, oral fixation, nipple sucking (man receiving), soft dom!sukuna

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 | contents: corruption kink, size difference, dacryphilia, marking, squirting, overstimulation, cunnilingus, mention of murder

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | contents: true form!Sukuna, sweet husband!Sukuna, fluff

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 | contents: dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, size kink / size difference, unprotected vaginal sex, degradation, corruption kink, tummy bulging, mention of virginity loss and hymen breaking, cervix fucking, slight choking, slight mention of blood tasting, hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'. (reader gets referred to as 'short', 'small', 'naive', 'shy', 'innocent'-looking, 'woman', 'brat', 'slut' & 'little')

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 | contents: true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. exhibitionism, size difference, dumbification/objectification, two dick!sukuna, hair pulling, use of spit, breeding themes, overstimulation, reader gets called ‘little girl, slut’. sukuna’s a menace and loves to create drama between his concubines

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 | contents: Trueform!Sukuna x female!reader, smut, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spitting, slight use of tummy mouth, double penetration, tit sucking (and biting), breeding kink, degrading, sukuna is... sukuna but fluffier to his wife

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝? | contents: A/B/O (meaning alpha, omega, and beta) no alpha and omega title used, true form!sukuna, monster fucking, daddy/mama, double pentration, overstimulation, dacryphilia, claws with sukuna have his true form extraness, sukuna calls you pet twice, mind break, cream pie, fucking his cum into you. belly bulge from the amount of cum, forced orgasm, squirting

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲-𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? | contents: ex hubby and baby daddy!sukuna, monster fucking with true form!sukuna, sukuna isn’t jealous but crashed your date with pride, daddy/mama/princess, praise/praising degradation, manhandling, pinning, degradation, slight self pleasuring (male + female receiving), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), reader is referred to as mama/princess

#jjk x reader #jjk masterlist #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #toji x reader #toji smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #sukuna ryomen #nanami kento #rebloging #reblog masterlist <3

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kagu-une · 4 months

Text

Your Majesty // P.SH

The cessation of war in your kingdom relies on you. What everyone failed to tell you: it is at the cost of your freedom.

pairing. king!park seonghwa x fem!princess!reader

genre. royal fantasy? pls don't read this if you're looking for historical accuracy :/ mature themes ahead, minors do not interact.

content warnings. non-idol!au. mean dom!seonghwa. sub!reader. maybe a little bit of dubcon if you squint. oral (m. receiving). no penetration. shoe humping. degradation. use of the terms 'my pet', 'good girl', 'my property', mentions of being a slave, 'your majesty', uhhh? spitting, very briefly. sadism for sure. he's a mean ass so ? i think that's about it. use of restraints but not in the sexy way ;(. i wrote this in proper caps this time but usually i use intentional lowercase :p

a/n. can you imagine seonghwa as a cruel king it gets my jimmies in a twist .... sorry to keep pushing the mean hwa agenda..... this is an old drabble that i had sitting, so i hope you enjoy! also ty to my liege @hhoneylix for proof reading for me (so if anything is awry blame them fr /j) ♡ if you enjoyed, please like, comment and reblog!

smut beneath the drop down!

Park Seonghwa — a noble captain in battle, but a tyrant King. Stingy, was he, arms outstretched in demand for his filthy palms to be filled with what he desired. His gluttony was utterly insatiable, and notoriously so. Though his greed was enough to cause the purest of souls to turn a cold shoulder, it was difficult to say no to someone with devilishly handsome looks and equipped with a silver tongue that'd put Lucifer himself to shame.

War raged in his kingdom, enemy nations bombarding Seonghwa's empire in aims and high hopes to retrieve stolen loot and goods from his avaricious grasp. It was undeniable that such conflict took a tremendous toll, economically. After a long debate amongst those of the Higher Tables, they came to a unanimous decision: a barter, of course. One couldn't expect the King to cease his feast upon divinity. The King would return whatever loot that his soldiers obtained while ransacking villages and pillaging towns in exchange for one thing: the opposing realm's Princess. This trade would be a simple one and the poor soul would remain in a royal bloodline; the deal was flawless and Seonghwa's foes accepted the plea with no beat of hesitation. Three days is the window of time it took for rival troops to retreat from his territory, leaving behind their wake of destruction just as Park's militia did to them; though, providing relief and aid to the inhabitants of his kingdom were the last of his worries.

Now, he occupied his throne, his dark gaze focusing lazily on the marble floor that stretched out before him. Mirroring his eyes and their lethargy and intolerance, his shoulders slouched as his tall frame spilled across the chair, knees splayed as his chin rest in his left hand. Jack Frost was great friends with the King based on the ice that he harbored within his honeyed stare. Regardless, he sat like a pouting child awaiting the arrival of his... servant.

The princess discussed in the meeting that disbanded the hellacious battles on his turf and leveled the playing field? Y/N. You looked like a deer, willowy and shy. Your head was hung to look at the floor beneath you, hiding the turmoil in your gaze. You were a pretty thing; long, healthy hair tumbled down your back. Kind eyes framed with long, thick eyelashes. A natural beauty that caused a surge of heat to rush through the King's core. Slowly, the ice inside of him began to melt away. Everyone failed to mention that you had an attitude that could give Seonghwa a run for his money. He remained silent as his eyes drank you in... The first time you'd ever laid eyes on one other.

The rattle of chains caught Seonghwa's attention. In his seat, he corrected his posture, immediately looking more presentable and respectable in the presence of company. Amongst the small fleet of handlers, you stood in the middle, wrists bound in iron with your ankles encircled in matching restraints. Seonghwa dare not move, even as your handlers pushed you forward and stood at attention before their king. Clearly, you put up a fight. the tattered dress that hung haphazardly from your frame reeked of foul play. This deal between kingdoms was clearly one-sided. Luckily, there wasn't a bruise to mar your flawless complexion — wise on his staff's behalf.

"She is no slave. Remove those chains at once." Spoke Seonghwa, once he had his fill of scrutinizing you, noting how you looked equally pissed off and frightened. The guards responded, and with the clatter of iron striking the hard flooring, you now stood free, just before the King himself.

Another demand, "Leave us."

Seonghwa fell silent once more as he awaited the room to clear, and the burly mahogany doors leading into the throne hall to shut, thus leaving them in seclusion. Lithe fingers journeyed across his chin in thought as he crossed an ankle over his bent knee.

"Kneel."

Your mouth responded by hanging open. Your eyebrows knitted together in protest. An inhale to digest such an incredulous demand, then, "Pardon me?"

"I didn't stumble over my words, girl." Retorted Hwa as he rose from his chair, approaching you at an agonizing pace. Stalking you like prey. Seonghwa circled you once, your cautious eyes remaining on the King as he did such. "I told you to kneel."

The steely tone in the King's voice indicated to you that it was no blague. You finally gave in and sank to your knees, a quiver in your actions from weariness. Seonghwa smirked as he watched you comply, petting the top of your head. Whether it was in encouragement or to assert his dominance over you, you couldn't tell. It was apparent that you weren't used to being forced into submission like this... And by God, Seonghwa was going to use that fact and run it straight into the ground.

"As I said, you're no slave. Such a shame that you aren't." Grumbled the King, squatting down so that your faces were even, calloused fingertips lingering upon your dainty jaw.

"I'd rather die than serve you."

An exasperated sigh tumbled from Seonghwa's plush lips, and a hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, he chuckled.

"So be it."

Rising from his position in front of you, he placed his hands on his hips as his eyes oscillated around the deliciously decorated throne room. He did this to create time and revise his next course of actions. Then, a firm foot planted itself into your chest, sending you reeling backward until your back was flush to the expensive marble. The King wasted no time as he straddled your torso, pressing your arms apart and pinning them to the floor using his knees. Seonghwa's hair fell into his face from such sudden actions and obscured his view, but posed no threat to the Crown's navigation as fingers enveloped your neck.

"You can wish me dead and hate your life, expecting me to do something about it. The simple fact is, my pet, you are my property. I own you. Every organic thought that riddles that head of yours is because I will it to be so." Seonghwa spits in your face. Usually, he wasn't the one to show all of his cards, but he refused to be disrespected inside his own castle. "You can spend your days in a cell, if you'd rather."

You flinched as saliva landed on your face, hatred, and disgust filling your stare, but no words of defense on your own behalf rolled off your sharp tongue — despite the turmoil raging within you being incredibly apparent (or, maybe, you were pathetically transparent). Recalling the chilly iron that bound your limbs earlier, a shiver crept up your spine. You had no quarrel with the bottom of the King's boot. Your wide eyes watched every move that the King made.

Despite the hatred that burned for the sadistic ruler, from below him, Seonghwa could see how your nipples had hardened — even through the tattered apparel you wore. And, fuck, did this inflate the King's ego. A wicked grin spread across the bottom half of Seonghwa's visage as a fire bloomed from his otherwise icy gaze. Once you realized that Seonghwa took notice of your blooming arousal, a deep blush seeped into your face and radiated to the tips of your ears. You parted your lips, and attempted to flounder for some sort of explanation, but instead, lie beneath Hwa with your mouth opening and closing as if you were a fish out of water.

"Do you genuinely think you are worthy of me, girl?" Asked Seonghwa through a smirk as his eyes scanned your blush riddled visage. His booming voice filled the room, instilling humiliation into your bones. This only added fuel to the heat that pooled between your legs. Could the entire palace hear of your sexual appetite?

"I–..."

"You what? Spit it out, now." The sinister expression on his face deepened further when you answered with silence, your eyes wide as you met his gaze. Coltish, curious, afraid. "That's what I thought. Next time, I'll have to cut that pathetic tongue out of your mouth."

The King removed himself from the rumple the two of you were in and returned to his throne to sit. Again, his knees parted as his feet were planted on the floor before him. He pointed to this space, waiting for you to comply with the unspoken orders given. Knock-kneed and cautious, you peeled yourself off the floor and closed the space between yourself and Seonghwa. Placing your hands on his thighs in order to brace yourself, you sank to the ground just as the King expected of you. Suddenly, and humorously to the King, submission began to settle into your bones as need clawed at your groin. It was evident in your eyes.

With his right hand, Seonghwa reached forward and slipped a few fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head back and forcing eye contact. "What is your purpose?"

Your eyebrows came together at the obscurity of the inquiry, but you still stammered out a response, "To become Queen...?" And there was honesty in your meek answer. All of your God given life consisted of how to be a good ruler, and what it meant to be a Queen. So, your answer was genuine, though confusion lilted your words. A smirk toyed at Seonghwa's lips, and he nodded as your response processed in his mind.

The King leaned forward until his lips were flush with your ear; hot breath fanned your face. His serpent tongue slithered from between his lips to lick the shell of your ear before he brought himself to speak.

A husky whisper, "When I'm through with you... I will be your purpose."

The fire of acrid hate dwindled to simmering coals within you. Instead of fueling your abhorrence, the warmth fed into the pool of feverishness that gathered in the pit of your stomach. The overwhelming feeling of ignominy and hedonism caused tears to well in your eyes, though you were quick to blink them away. Never had you been subjected to something like this — and never did you think that you would yearn for a man in such ways like you did now. This was especially conflicting to you because you didn't even know what Seonghwa looked like until you entered the same room as him.

Admittedly, you were floored when you first took in Seonghwa's appearance. From the talk amongst soldiers and townspeople when he frequented the market just outside of the castle, or stalked the long corridors that lie within the royal walls, their conversations of the King hovering over him lead him to believe that — perhaps — this King was a sea hag, or worse... Tales of his iron fist and cold eyes frightened you, thus leading you to never pursue any additional information regarding King Park Seonghwa and his tyrannical reign. Now that you taking in the King with your own eyes, he was, in fact, not the sea hag you had once imagined.

Instead, you were met with a man with a strong physique, obviously a warrior, and scars riddling his skin as proof. His raven locks hung in messy waves, framing his face beautifully. He had an angular face with dragon-like eyes that could pierce right through you. There was no denying that he was a stunning man. And his lips — . . .

Now, you sat positioned between the thighs of this devilishly handsome King, face burning with the heat of desire and embarrassment. Your eyes fell to the King's lap, your tongue growing thick in your mouth as you ached to reach out and remove the article of clothing, to reveal what lie beneath. From what you could gather in the few fleeting moments that his eyes were focused, the King was eager to give in to your carnality before a demanding grip drew your eyes back up to meet Seonghwa's.

Why do I feel this way? You questioned yourself, as you instinctively nuzzle your chin into Seonghwa's grasp. Deciding not to question it any longer and cave into your lewd cravings, you let out a soft whine to voice the need that was already addressed silently; after all, this is why Seonghwa wore that cocky smirk that drove you headfirst into compliance.

Of course the King noticed the lingering eyes on his crotch as he sat back from his position at your ear. The want that reflected in your stare made the King want to press his thighs together, but he couldn't do that since you sat between them. Instead, he released your jaw and shifted in his seat in order to fulfill your wish for your mouth to be invaded. His jewel-adorned hand rested lightly against the armrest as he gathered his thoughts.

"It seems we both have needs that demand they be sated." The King began, licking his lips to moisten them. Excitement gnawed at you and this eagerness was mirrored in your glassy eyes — the kind of look that Seonghwa wished to ruin. His smirk transitioned into a salacious grin, "You look ravishing this way, pet. What is your purpose?" He questioned again, an eyebrow raising expectantly.

"You."

Seonghwa drew his hand from its perch on the armrest so he could pull back and land a sharp, open-palmed slap across your face. The same decorated fingers leveled your head before pulling away and returning to the position he was in prior. "Who am I?"

Silence. Then, realization. "My King."

"Good girl," was the response. "what is your purpose?"

"You are."

"Worship me as so."

You took this as a clearance to act upon your cravings, and you sprung into action. Cold fingers slipped beneath the waistband of the fabric that caged the King's demanding sex. You tugged the front down to release his hardened erection, wanting to keep the King's modesty as he sat upon his royal chair... despite the want to be splayed out by him right on the floor. You halted as Seonghwa's cock was presented to you, your warm breath ghosting against the King's sensitive skin.

Just as Seonghwa was about to intervene, you dipped your head as you took the tip of Hwa's length into your mouth. Your mouth was warm, and tantalizingly wet as his hardened cock disappeared between plump lips. Electricity traveled across the King's skin, down his muscled thighs, and into his stomach. This time, an ornate hand carded its way into your hair. He pushed your head down to swallow more of his cock, impatience getting the best of him. You didn't mind though, and only braced yourself for more.

You knew what you were doing. You played him like a fiddle as your head bobbed along the King's cock, tongue flattened and molded to the underside of Seonghwa's excited shaft.

Hwa's head fell to the side, clear ecstasy written across his features. That didn't prevent the King from keeping his eyes on you, to watch your performance. The hand in your hair moved to cup the back of your head. His hips lifted from the throne on their own accord, assaulting the back of your throat with sloppy thrusts.

"You make your King feel so good, pet," muttered Seonghwa just before his teeth sank into his lower lip. "look at me as you please me."

You drew back to give attention to the head of his cock, tongue running along Seonghwa's slit and lapping up the pre-cum that dribbled out. At the King's demand, your eyes raised and leveled with Seonghwa's. Before he could realize, Hwa was teetering on the edge of his climax — so, he breathed out a warning, "Shit, I'm gonna —. . ."

You doubled down, arms slithering up into Seonghwa's lap until nimble fingers gripped at the King's waist, nose nestled into the cloth of Seonghwa's trousers as you took all the King's cock into your mouth. A rumbling moan emanated from Hwa as he released, your mouth milking him for what he was worth.

You pulled yourself off of the King with a delicious and all-too-intentional 'pop' and wiped your pleased smirk on your sleeve. Expectant eyes met Seonghwa's darkened ones, his eyebrows lowering as he read your expression.

"I suppose you're expecting me to do something to provide you relief?" Asked the King, his head falling back to rest on the back of the chair for a few moments. He readjusted his trousers as he came down from his climax.

"Yes, please, Your Majesty." You replied. Excitement lit up your gaze, and you shifted in place.

Seonghwa shot up in his seat, shoulders squared and clearly defensive. Such a change in demeanor would surely give someone whiplash. Now, you understood what everyone meant.

"Why should I give you anything? You're property. You think your Godly tongue will buy you anything, mewling quim?" The tip of Seonghwa's boot trailed up the inside of your thigh and dug the toe of his shoe into your clothed crotch. Not expecting such friction, especially because of the outburst that exploded from Seonghwa a moment ago, a whimpering moan bellowed from you, hips immediately jerking forward to seek out the contact. "As I said: you are undeserving of me."

You nodded in agreement whilst grating your hips aggressively against the tip of the King's shoe — anything to flood your body with the ecstasy that you were experiencing now. It was almost embarrassing at how fast you fell apart, writhing in the floor and uttering gentle curses as you were edged towards your own orgasm. Your fingers latched onto Seonghwa's pant leg as the radiating heat seeped down your thighs and caused your toes to curl.

Your body pulsated as you came, muscles clenching and eyes screwing shut. Seonghwa placed a majority of his weight on your clothed cunt now, wanting to enhance your orgasm as you came. Removing his foot from your clothed pussy, the dark place on the fabric displayed your pleasure. The hint of a grin tugged at the corners of Seonghwa's lips, but he stood and pulled you to your feet — earning a soft cry in protest from you.

"Go have the maids clean you up. I expect to see you at dinner." He pulled you to his chest, his hand pressing into the small of your back. "Whatever happens remains in this room, understood?"

"Mm." You hum in agreement, clinging to the King as your knees were too unreliable due to your orgasm.

"Good, now leave my presence."

Stumbling over your feet, you made your way to the heavy doors that previously closed the two of you off to the rest of the castle. Your sex-pinked skin revealed the activities that took place behind the closed doors. If not your complexion, the stain on your tattered clothes, or the languid grin and half-lidded gaze would be telling enough.

Pausing with a hand on the door, you threw a shy glance at Seonghwa from over your shoulder, just before slipping through. "Your Majesty."

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