𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ; he pestered you so much about sex. it's as if he needed it to live. even though every single time you told him '' no'', he tried and tried again. why not obey him and give him what he wants, just once?
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ; NSFW: sex. (NOTHING KINKY, i think)
𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ; u, lee, r so fucking welcome for this piece of shit. UR LUCKY I LOVE U CAUSE U BETTER NOT RUSH ME NEXT TIME, damn whore.
𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀; @tojishusband, love ya bae<3
'' Hnngh! Ple—'', You whined and begged as Toji's thick, lengthy fingers were stuffed deep inside of you. His charcoal-colored tail swooshed behind him quickly swinging from side to side. Your gummy walls tightly squeezing around his fingers as you clawed at his clothed back. The painful feeling of your nails slashing and clawing at his back made a huffed groan come from him. '' To. . .Toji, ple-please!'' Toji watched as you begged for him, towering over your smaller form. Toji's green hues watched your closely, scanning your body. A chuckle erupted from his throat, '' Please, what? Use your words, slut.''
His venom-laced words brought your aching body over the edge, Toji soon realized your state and slowed down his frequent thrusts, not letting you relieve yourself. He stuck his nail in your slit, the pain making your flushed figure tremble in his hold. Tears, crystal-colored ones, raced down your face, his long, pink, thick tongue licking up the tears, pressing soft kisses on your face. The pained expression that showed over your face made such a lustful feeling erupt in (mainly) his lower region.
'' I, I need to cu-cum! Please, please, please, please-'' You gulped your words, ragged and uneven breathing coming from you as your chest heaved up and down at a rapid pace, '' L-et me cu-m. . .!'' You begged, half-lidded, tear-filled eyes staring into his. A lust-filled tone left his throat, '' Sure, my pretty boy. Since you've been so good for me, I'll let you cum.'' His normally black pupils turned into bright red hearts as he quickly rushed and took your cock into his throat, the immediate feeling of his tongue swishing around your length made your bitter-sweet tasting cum rush down his throat. The substance made him groan softly on your cock. His mouth overflowed with your cum as he swallowed it all, or at least tried too.
Your body was in such a vulnerable state, your most recent high still snaking across your body. He disregarded of his clothing, pouring sticky lube in his large hands and rubbed it up and down his girthy cock. The squelching noises making him wince in pleasure. '' That- That's not gonna-'' He shushed your worries with a forced kiss.
Toji rested one of his rather large hands on your stomach. Without a second thought, he shoved his 9–10-inch cock inside of your ass. '' Fuck. .'' He hissed, the pleasureful feeling of your squeezing down on him as if you don't want him to leave made an overwhelming knot start in the pit of his stomach. '' To-ji, Toji- please, I- I can't-'' You sobbed, he peered down on your form. Even though the pained feeling of his cock being stuffed inside of you until you were filled to the brim, stretching you to your full capability, made your toes-curl.
'' Be a good boy and take what you're given.'' He sneered, taking his lube-smothered cock out of you, his tip now prodding at your entrance, he slammed back inside of you without a warning. '' Toji, Toji, Toji! Fuck- Please-'' Your begging repeated over and over, until they quickly turned into incoherent sobs and moans. Toji watched as he broke you while you're taking his cock, his cum being pushed far inside of you as he continued to tear your ass apart with his monstrous cock.
First warm the head to remove from the neck and squish a little to take a look at the glue: how degraded is it? what’s the texture?
If the glue’s all gloopy with no chunks the chemicals are going to be able to cover it and be absorbed easily. if the glue’s still in big chunks you’ll need to squish and scrape the head a little to break it up.
We now tie back the hair as tight as possible to avoid glue chunks getting trapped in there
Now place the head in warm water upside down and put a big tablespoonful of cif cream into the neckhole, put the container somewhere warm like a radiator (unnecessary if you have a heated house) and check back in 48 hours
First check: fill a bowl with warm water and squeeze the head empty of the cif and see what else comes out with some squishing and tapping, scrape with a chopstick to get more glue dislodged and squidge that head to make sure the glue is broken up. It could look like this: use a flashlight: if there are still visible big chunks or yellow inside we redo a cif in the head soak,
If not, we do a diluted cif soak: cif cream in water , stir it well, undo the dolls hair and put the head in the solution for 48h to neutralise the glue stuck to the hair fibres and scalp
We’ll then wash the head in water and soap
Then condition the hair and work very carefully from the tips upwards with a large comb then a flea comb to remove any glue from the hair.
Wash out the conditioner, leave to dry, your doll is now ready to back on their body!
SHIFTING AND MANIFESTATION FOR NEURODIVERGENT PEOPLE
a general word vomit from a kid trying to get a point or two across.
yes, this is long. because it NEEDS to exist.
you don’t need to be neurodivergent to read this; your only requirement is to be someone in this community. being educated and aware never hurt anyone.
i myself am not diagnosed with anything—mostly because my mom is a total nutjob who refuses to believe her child is “abnormal”, buuuut… i’m pretty sure there’s something undiagnosed up in my brain. regardless, i’ve rarely seen a post really trying to accommodate for neurodivergent people in this community.
and it bothers me.
because one could easily say “your physical body doesn’t matter, your circumstances do not matter, just persist!”
and while in LOA, that IS true; you could manifest and shift regardless of whatever you’re possibly going through. nothing is impossible.
most neurodivergent people are actively affected more by their mind, their perspective on the world or their mental state. it becomes extremely hard to just ignore the circumstances and power through; not impossible! but very, very hard.
do excuse me if i get anything wrong, and feel free to point it out and correct me. especially if you are neurodivergent yourself, i prioritize giving the best advice when it comes to things such as this!
different neurotypes share no single experience, but patterns exist.
many autistic, ADHD, sensory processing, and other neurodivergent people have stronger, more literal, or more embodied sensory experiences. this means that visualizing or “feeling” a desire, to live in the end, may be vivid…
or the complete opposite. because remember, people, spectrums exist!
ADHD and some autistic profiles bring hyper focus and distractibility. hyper focus can massively accelerate planning and skill building toward a goal—to shift, manifest—but distractibility makes consistent practice of attention based techniques harder.
along emotional regulation, strong mood swings, alexithymia (trouble naming internal states), rejection sensitivity, or mood disorders can amplify the emotional stakes of “not manifesting,” causing the following;
shame, catastrophizing, or despair.
then comes literal thinking and black-and-white cognition; when things are interpreted literally, metaphorical LOA language can confuse or lead to rigid rules that backfire. examples; be the energy you want to attract. people may adopt extreme, all-or-nothing behaviors, developing an insecurity or a nagging fear of having to be PERFECT. this harms wellbeing.
for people prone to psychosis spectrum experiences, blending imagined outcomes and actual evidence can become dangerous. this is something i do not see anyone talk about, which really worries me. there’s more harm in not telling someone they can have issues in their journey, due to the fact that they’re built a different way, just to save face for the community. you need to be able to tell what’s delusion, and what’s a shift.
what i’ve mentioned above are all core ways neurodivergence changes how these concepts, shifting, manifesting, feel and work.
this does not mean in any way, shape or form that neurodivergent folks cannot do these practices. in fact, they can LEVERAGE special strengths (intense interests, hyperfocus, pattern recognition) to make these mechanisms powerful, if the approach is adapted to their specific cognitive style!
small examples could be emotional rehearsal. preparing yourself for future events, to practice anxiety handling or social scripts reduce shock when they happen; followed by motivation and reward loops! believing something is possible, combined with small wins, creates dophamine feedback that helps sustain the effort. do not see any of your small wins as useless, no matter how miniscule they may be. it is proof of SOMETHING. put that in your pocket, and protect it!
there’s also common traps and harms. like i mentioned above, it helps NOBODY to act as if the community or these practices are easy for everyone. they can be, but humans weren’t created as copy pastes of one another. realize that each and every one of us is so uniquely different, so complex, and that not everyone will see the world in a picture perfect example.
VICTIM BLAMING; in some corners of the community, there’s still those people that set specific language. “you didn’t manifest because, this and that and those…” this could be damaging if you have depression, OCD, anxiety, trauma, or executive dysfunction. there’s a difference between adding moral blame for setbacks, and genuinely helping someone.
to add onto this, i’d like to mention that NONE of my harsh motivation posts are for people genuinely struggling. i am someone who struggles, i would never set shame in someone i see myself in. i saw many people mentioning this in other posts and i just wanted to speak upon it. my toxic motivation posts are for people that LIKE it—because it works for some! okay, niko rant over, back to the post…
OVER RELIANCE ON INTERNAL METHODS; if manifestation is treated as only, only internal—visualize, feel, expect, and ignores external planning, people with executive dysfunction or chaotic environments can become stuck in imagining without building supports. telling your average joe that they don’t need to do methods is fine; it’s wonderful, even! it can help THEM. but make sure to let others know that doing the work helps regardless.
BURNOUT FROM FORCED CONSISTENCY: many methods, subliminals most popularly, ask for consistency. if one has limited energy, sensory sensitivity, or fluctuating ability, rigid daily demands cause exhaustion and failure—again, leading to blame!
i’d like to give some principles tailored to neurodivergent brains, if you believe one could help you,
take it for yourself.
A — TRANSLATE “FEEL IT” INTO YOUR BRAIN’S LANGUAGE.
if traditional visualization doesn’t fit you, replace it with something that does.
if you have strong sensory imagery: anchor the desired state to a specific sensory memory (a texture, a smell) that could evoke calm or confidence.
if imagery is weak: use verbal descriptions, lists of facts about the future you want, or an internal logic map! concrete statements act like images for people who think verbally or logically.
if tactile helps: pair the mental image with a physical object (a ring, a stone) that stands for the desired state.
B — USE IDENTITY AS LEVERAGE, NOT PRESSURE.
pick one tiny identity trait you can honestly almost.. inhabit? equip? without strain. e.g. “I’m someone who asks for help” rather than “I’m successful.” small and believable shifts produce action without cognitive dissonance. let identities be layered and temporary, some neurodivergent people change modes quickly; use that to your advantage rather than demanding a permanent identity swap!
C — TRANSLATE POSITIVE THINKING INTO REALISTIC EXPECTATION
be. compassionate. i cannot stress this enough, accept that negative thoughts happen. instead of fighting them so fiercely; label them and redirect attention gently to another action.
HOW TO HANDLE SPECIFIC CHALLENGES:
once again, this is the best i could come up with due to neurodivergence being a complex system full of spectrums.
ADHD: treat manifestation as task design. break goals into single ting next actions, feel free to use alarms, timers or external prompts that really match your rhythm! plan to do the “hard work” during likely hyper focus windows. do NOT punish yourself on low energy days.
AUTISM: avoid vague wishes if it messes with your system and mind, use literal and concrete language for intentions. embed manifestation, shifting, or whatever you’re trying to practice in routine or special interest projects so it feels more natural.
OCD/ANXIETY: reframe intrusive thoughts as noise to the best of your abilities. they do not invalidate your intent, and avoid “must” language. replace ABSOLUTE rules with flexible guidelines. concrete rules do not exist in LOA regardless, you choose what works.
BIPOLAR AND MOOD DISORDERS: recognize mood linked fluctuations in motivation, and prepare for both high energy and low energy stakes! once again, avoid framing setbacks as moral failure.
PSYCHOSIS SPECTRUM VULNERABILITY: grounding techniques and trusted mental heath support is essential, if shifting increases confusion for you, stop and seek support from anywhere you can. a clinician or a trusted person, there is NO shame in doing this.
LEARNING DIFFICULTIES SUCH AS DYSLEXIA OR PROCESSING DIFFERENCES: use audio, tactile, or visual supports rather than long textual affirmations. make intentions short, simple and repeatable in a format that matches how you process the information. if, of course, that’s what helps YOU!
all of what i’ve mentioned is simple guides. they are not necessary, not concrete rules, you do not HAVE to follow them. i hope this helped, even in the slightest.
i love you, and treat yourself a little kinder tonight!
I feel like Toji always forgets how much of a freak his partner (you) can be.
You piss him off and he jokes about putting an empty gun in your mouth to shut you up and all the while you go: "Why not a loaded one?" And now he doesn't know if he should be concerned for your mental health or get into roleplaying because you seem to like that sort of thing.
CW: NSFW CONTENT, !–first time writing sub!reader–!, brat reader, brat-taming, office sex, (sorta) mean Price, teasing, cockwarming, slight riding, younger reader x older Price, rushed ending (got lazy)
A/N: I am normally a Top/Dom Male Reader writer but I wanted to try out writing for Sub Reader so sorry if it's bad
Price was getting to his limit. His patience was quickly running out with M/N. Of course, he understood when he was young and dumb, he was cocky and was a rule bender but the way M/N was acting?
Purposefully testing Price's patience and his authority. Not following simple orders from Price. Talking back to him and sometimes in front of the others. Mocking his captain and belittling his warnings. Price knew that M/N was trying to rile him up, especially that one time when M/N "accidentally" rubbed his ass against Price's crotch oh-so casually.
It was bound for Price to call M/N to his office for a "talk" and when he did, M/N knew that he was fucked just by looking at Price's expression.
Now, the two were in his office, Price was working on his paperwork in silence and M/N, on the other hand, was sitting on Price's lap. Cockwarming the captain.
M/N was struggling. He'd lost track of how long its been but he knew that he couldn't last any longer. His body trembling as he tries to regulate his breathing to keep himself from moving against Price's orders. He can feel Price so deep in him which makes this 10x harder. And he supposed to wait until Price finishes his work?!
Price was enjoying this. Seeing M/N in the corner of his eye—biting down on his fist, eyes tightly shut, feeling M/N's trembling hips aching to move. Price brought his free hand on M/N's hip which made M/N let out a low whine.
"Quiet, remember.." Price reminded M/N which caused M/N to glare back at him (barely). Price's attention returns to his paperwork, his hand still on M/N's hip. He then decides to mess with the man in his lap so he moved his hips, shifting in his seat. While doing so, he pushes himself deeper into M/N (who let's out another needy whine). Price hides his small smirk as he continues to do his paperwork, gripping M/N's hip to still his writhing.
M/N was going to lose it sooner or later but should he really go against Price's orders? The answer was quite clear.
He began slowly rolling his hips against Price, causing him to let out a satisfied yet quiet moan and Price to let out a low groan out of surprisement. Price stopped writing, his hand tightening around the pen as the man on his lap was currently disregarding his orders.
"Fuckin...-" Price moans before releasing the pen and moving his now free hand to M/N's hips along with his other hand. He pulls M/N down on his cock to stop his movements, filling him up completely just how he liked it—how he wanted it. Another whiny moan left M/N's lips as he was prevented from moving once again. "...mm, please..! Just let me—"
"Just let you what? Let you do whatever you want, hm?" Price's gruff voice cuts M/N off. His hold on M/N's hips tightening as if preparing to do something if M/N answered incorrectly...which he did.
"U-uh huh—ah!"
M/N moaned out when Price suddenly stood up from his chair which made M/N bend over on Price's desk, his clothed chest against the cold wood. Price looked down, watching how M/N tried to claw at the desk while taking the opportunity to roll his hips to gain the friction that he very much craved. Price still held a firm hold on M/N's hips so his movements didn't do much.
"Such a fuckin' brat, aren't yer..." Price murmurs before letting out an airy moan when he felt M/N tighten around his cock. "Shit..." Price huffed as M/N mewls quietly. Despite wanting to tease M/N a little longer, Price was getting impatient himself especially if the man under him is taking his cock in so deliciously and so eagerly.
"Oh, please...please, sir..!" It was like M/N knew that this was Price's breaking point.
After hearing that sweet whimper from M/N, Price began to move his hips. Slowly thrusting which made both of the men let out relieved moans.
"...thank you, thank you—mm!" M/N began to babble out as he was finally getting what he wanted.
"Taking me so well, baby.." Price would begin to increase his pace, watching M/N's back arch in pleasure. Moans and groans were quick to fill the usually silent office.
「 summary: su gang goes through your bag and finds your camera, too bad you didn’t change the sd card before school.. 」
「 warnings!: bullying, stalking, cussing, su gang himself is a warning, they both freaked the hell out, reader is masochistic, su gang is sadistic (obviously), they match each others freak, pet play if u widen ur eyes a bit, hair pulling, uh reader has hair cause hairpulling.. ,black plastic bag appearance, amab!reader, reader is a loser nerd i fear,doggy position, camera usage,over the counter/sink, reader finding out things about himself, bathroom sex, i guess like semi public sex, mirror fucking, manhandling, chokehold handjob, asphyxiation, cum eating but its really unsanitary, humiliation sorta kinda, dacryphillia, no aftercare. 」
Wc: 2k
NOT PROOFREAD
— 🐀
You..had a problem, and no, it wasnt the ever growing amount of tissues in your bedroom trashcan and the full sd cards to pair with them, that was only part of the problem. However it would be kind of awkward to explain that instead of going to cram school you spent the entire evening taking pictures of han su gang. Han su gang, the only constant in your life, sure it was in the form of bullying but did it really count as bullying if you liked it? You couldn’t even begin to count the amount of hard ons you’ve sprung because of him, bruises that you press on while you’re fisting your cock and scrolling through pictures on your camera; but that all came to an end when you step foot in that school. The school you were at right now actually, not for long, you’d hoped.
You were on your way out of school before you were suddenly yanked into an empty hallway, your heart rate spiking as you made eye contact with su gang over your shoulder. His lackeys right behind him, one with a phone in hand but you didn’t have time to assess everyone before a plastic bag was put over your head and tied to keep it in place. So here you were, standing in the hallway with a black plastic bag over your head as you waited, excited in more ways than one. Your hands are no doubt sweaty in anticipation, heart fast in your ears and dick throbbing in your pants. You couldn’t help but imagine the look on his face even if you could feel yourself getting harder the more you think.
“Leave.” su gang finally speaks.
You hear several footsteps, so you assume he wasn’t talking to you but to his lackeys. You stand still, hands behind your back, your breath damp against your skin as your breathe shakily. su gang is scarily quiet, you don’t understand why until you hear the zipper of your backpack and the buttons on your camera being pressed. Of course you know what the buttons sound like, you hear it every night as you turn it on to scroll through the pictures you’d taken earlier that day and take your cock out of your pajamas pants. You dont have a chance to do anything about it before you’re flash banged by the natural light coming through the windows, wincing as you covered your eyes.
“Whats this? Hm?” He asks holding your camera in front of your face.
The picture you had taken a few days prior filled the tiny screen, it was of su gang, he’d been wiping blood off of his face, tounge in the corner of his mouth as he started to lick his lips however you could tell it was taken from afar. You whimpered as your eyes locked on the screen, your finger nails digging into your palms. You heard a huff of amusement from in front of you before you were taken by surprise by the burning feeling of pulling on your scalp, su gangs fingers gripping into your hair before he starts to pull you.
You have no choice but to try to keep up, your sneakers squeaking against the tile every time you took a clumsy step. At some point his strides had gotten too wide for you to keep up, being reduced to a crawl for a short while before you finally made your way to the teachers bathroom. Of course he was allowed in there, the school probably feared what would happen if they denied it. You dont get much time to process anything before a foot meets your side, forcing you on your back.
He was anything but gentle has he tore parts of your uniform off, the vest and blazer being thrown in some corner. A strangled noise leaves your lips as su gangs hands find your wrists, his fingers tightening around the both of them. With his free hand he took it upon himself to undo your belt, fastening it around your wrists to hold your hands together so he could use both of his own.
“Stop squirming.”
“hah..bu—“
You didnt get to finish your sentence before his palm striked the side of your face, heat blossoming in not just your cheek as you let out a pitiful whine. You could barely hold still even with his hips on top of yours holding them down. A gasp left your mouth as you felt the cold tile against your thighs and the frigid air against your cock. Your slacks and boxers now sat bunched around your ankles, your shoes keeping them from slipping farther.
You tried not to trip as you were suddenly yanked up and propped against his chest, his arm around your neck as your eyes and his stared back at you in the mirror. His free hand trailed down your stomach, your uniform shirt crumpled under his touch before he yanked it apart, the buttons ripped off and clattered against the floor. He didn’t make an effort to completely pull it off, the fabric still hanging off your shoulders with your tie dangling against your chest as his fingers slid their way down towards your cock.
A garbled moan left your mouth as his hand wrapped around it, your own fingers digging into the arm locked around your neck. Your cock was leaking by now as su gangs hand slid up and down it perfectly, the sound of your fluids lubing the friction along with the sound of heavy breathing and moans filling the bathroom. You feel the vibrations of his laugh against your back as your cock twitched and you squirmed in his grip, his hand tightened around your cock when you tried to buck your hips into his fist, a yelp leaving your lips as he did.
“What did i tell you..?” His voice was low against your ear.
“St—stop squirm-“
He cut you off with a squeeze of his bicep, your throat tightening as he pressed harder.
“So tell me why you’re still moving.” His eyes dark in the mirror as he watched yours fill with tears.
He turned his head towards you as if waiting for you to speak, however there wasn’t much room for you to speak with his arm wrapped around your throat. He smiled when choppy words and gasps tried to leave you, smile turning into a twisted grin as he watched your cock twitch and spill all over the tile beneath you. He chuckled and let go of your neck, his hand finding your hair once more as he pushed you to the ground. You sputtered as you got your breath back, heaving on your hands and knees as air filled your lungs.
You couldn’t even fully grasp what was happening before your face was pressed into your own cum. You tried to move your head but his hand was quickly replaced with his foot as he reached for something on the counter above you. Your eye that wasnt being pressed into the floor widened as you recognized your camera, your heart racing as he handled your most prized possession.
“One, two, three.” Was all you heard before the flash went off, of course he didnt even think to turn it off. You winced as the brightness stung your eyes, they were no doubt closed in the picture.
He pressed a few buttons before smirking at the result, not taking long to put it on the counter once again. Crouching down to your level su gang watches you lay on the floor, chest still heaving however not as heavy as before.
“Clean this up.” His voice not holding a sliver of humor, using your hair to turn your head towards the floor.
You whimper before sticking your tongue out and lapping at your own cum. Every once in a while you would catch a glimpse of a sadistic smile from the corner of your eye. he let you get up after a few minutes, but not before turning your face towards him and licking your release from your face. Eventually as you stood on shaky legs he bent you over the bathroom sink and made you hold eye contact with the mirror. You couldn’t contain a moan as you felt his slick fingers scissor you open, your head dropping as well as your jaw while your moans shamelessly bounced off the walls. You didnt get to revel in the feeling for much longer, su gangs hand gripping your jaw and pulling it up to make you lock eyes with him through the mirror.
“Keep your eyes on me or I’ll walk out right now.”
You didnt want to risk that, doing your very best to watch his movements as to not piss him off. You felt him pull his fingers out of you, an involuntary whine leaving your lips at the emptiness. He didnt acknowledge the noise, just took the hand away from your face; reached to unbuckle his belt and pull his cock out of his boxers. Your bound forearms shook as they held you up, from anticipation or exhaustion you didnt know. You couldn’t stop the pathetic noise that rolled from your lips as he pushed his cock into you, the sting from the stretch only fueling the drool that gathered in your mouth.
“Hah..fu—fuck.” You whined, still trying your best to watch su gangs every move even if the tears were starting to make your vision blurry.
A sick smile decorated his face as he watched his cock slide in and out of you, his eyes dark with lust and something sadistic. His hand entered your sight for a second, just to grab the camera next to you. You watched him take multiple pictures, the flash flickering in the mirror. You hear him sigh before he rolled his eyes, mumbling something about the camera not having a video feature. Clearly bored with the camera he puts it back on the counter for the last time and focuses on fucking you. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls you back onto his cock, no doubt going to leave bruises you look forward to seeing.
A smirk reaches his face as he reaches to wrap his hand around your neck, your eyes widening as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You squeezed around him as you feel his palm press against your throat pulling a groan out of him, you couldn’t help your eyes rolling back as you released. Su gang didn’t take long to cum, the feeling of you pulsing around him as you came was more than enough to drive him over the edge. He stayed with his hand perched on your hip, his chest rising and falling as he gained his bearings. His face was blank as he looked at your wrecked face in the mirror, your head still being held up by his hand on your throat although now it wasn’t restricting your breath.
He let your head go to stuff himself back into his slacks and buckle his belt, letting it drop slack towards your arms. He undid the belt around your wrists and turned you towards him so you were facing him, an unsettling smile covering his face as he brought his hand up to grab your cheeks and squish them together. He turned your head side to side before slapping your cheek and leaving the bathroom.
By the time you’d fixed yourself enough to leave the bathroom and making sure you grabbed your camera su gang had already left the school, luckily your blazer and vest hid enough of the fact your shirt couldn’t be buttoned up anymore. Slowly but surely you made your way to the bus stop but by the time you’d gotten home it was already dark. The house was equally as dark however ten times more quiet, almost dreary. You went to turn the living room lamp on, as expected everything was where you left it before you went to school. What you didn’t expect was a box on your couch, you furrowed your brows in suspicion before going to get the scissors from the kitchen and opening the box.
Inside was a video camera with a note attached to it.
‘For next time.’ — H.S.G
This belongs to: @rat6ix
A/n: i randomly got a burst of inspiration for this fic so here, also this is sorta inspired by that one scene in revenged love when chi cheng has weiwei bent over the desk with the belt around his wrists LOL
Also did u catch the seongje cameo during the first picture :p
CW: older man x younger person (it is assumed you're at least in university, so no pedo shit), GN! Reader but you're into men, no use of y/n, reader is mentioned to be plus sized, Toji calls you a bitch once, but that's it for the degrading part. Overall nsfw, so MDNI. Kind of a crack too, ngl. Not proofread.
Toji Fushiguro is a piece of shit. Everyone knows that, even you know that... And yet somehow, your face is stuffed into his pillow as he pounds into you from behind, your ass already bruised from the delicious abuse it was enduring.
You never really questioned why your best friend's dad kept glaring at you like you were planning to eat his son alive. You assumed it was a family tradition to give strangers a "warm" and "welcoming" look whenever they met... but you couldn't be more wrong. Toji just doesn't appreciate his son being friends with people like you.
You weren't even that hot; Toji usually comforted himself with that statement. Because sure, your taunting smile and the bratty way you'd just casually slip into his house as if you owned the place was annoying, but he couldn't deny that there was a certain appeal to it. Just how much longer could you keep that smug look? Would you still look up at him and call him an old man when his cock is burried inside you? No no, that's just not right... He can't think like that about his son's best friend!
But every man has his limits. And Toji was way past his limit by the time you came to his house at 2AM whining about how your boyfriend broke up with you while drunk on some cheap shit Toji did not care enough to know about. Megumi was asleep, and you were making wayyy too much noise... It was only natural for him to shut you up with a good time, right?
So here you were: face down, ass up, as Toji kept a hand wrapped around your neck from behind and his other made sure you don't close your thighs together.
"F-fuuahhck... I- I'm sor– mmphm!!" You couldn't even form any coherent sentences thanks to the way he kept your face into the pillow. Tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks, your skin flushed from the warmth of the room and the exercise... And perhaps a little because of the lack of air.
"Ya want your best friend to know how much of a pathetic bitch you are?" Your mutter of "nooo :(" against the pillow was not unheard. "Then keep your mouth shut. I'm trynna fuck the insecurities out of you, is it so hard to be grateful for once?" His grip on your thigh tightens, a groan leaving his lips as his cock twitches inside your hole. God, you were gripping him so nice... "Why did he– fuck, yeah, juuust like that...– b-break up with you, again? Just 'cause you've got some extra meat on ya?"
On any other occasion, those words would've made you start tweaking. Fortunately, you weren't exactly conscious enough to feel insecure right now. "Y-yeah.. mmhm! S-said I was.. e-embarrassing– nngh!"
"Shh.." Toji's thrust suddenly slow down, his hips now brushing against your back as if he was caressing you with his body. "None of that now." Still, as slow as he was being, it didn't make his strength any less. Every thrust made your whole body shake. "You don't gotta worry about those idiots anymore, yeah? I'm gonna take– ahh..– care of ya... It's not like they deserved you anyway." And when his lips meet your shoulder, his teeth gently sinking into your skin, you start to think that maybe he isn't that much of an asshole.
But only for a moment, because in an instant, he's speeding up again, slamming into you like he was taking revenge for all the times you talked about your messy breakups in front of him just because he was older and more "experienced" with relationships. Yeah, as if.
Least to say, you weren't gonna get drunk and complain to him about your failed relationships... You would instead complain about how your best friend wouldn't like the fact that you're sleeping with his dad, from now on.
Content warning: mature content [minors dni], sub bottom reader, significant age gap [early 20s x mid 40s], power imbalance, brat taming, hand job, breath play, slight degradation, reader comes twice, kind of clothed sex, brief hair pulling, a single mention of manhandling and of spanking, implied transactional sex, implied risky sex, sex without feelings, written in third person
Author’s note: First work here. I’m an amateur author who writes considerably poorly and produces third-class smut only. Did not proof read. Despite all of this, I hope some people can at least enjoy this a little. Don’t be afraid to give it a try!
I doubt anyone who does read this will notice it either, but I wanted to point out that the title is a reference to an homonym song by 5FDP. Lyrics somewhat related to the story :)
Word count: >5800
The man’s office was different from the rest of the VFMP headquarters: darker and clinical, as if it belonged to an era when men still bled for their tenets and carried remorse in their hearts. Etched into the frosted glass of the front door, the inscription ‘Captain Silas Palmer’ was still discernible despite the few scratches.
The official sat behind his desk, the worn wood creaking under his weight as he leaned back in the chair. The room was a reflection of its owner, cluttered and tired, with stacks of papers and empty, disposable coffee mugs littering every surface. The only thing that stood out was a framed photo of a much younger Silas in uniform, filled with mirch and pride while standing next to the then-mayor. That had been a lifetime ago, before the city had chewed him up and spat him out.
The captain was just about to pour himself another finger of whiskey, a nightly ritual to numb the ache in his bones, when he heard the hesitant knock at his office door. He set the glass down with an exhausted sigh, voice coming out in a grunt, "Come in, it's open."
The door creaked open slowly, revealing a man in his early twenties. He was dressed in a way that was somewhere between fashionable and disheveled, with a leather jacket that had seen better days and a pair of jeans that clung to his frame in all the right places.
"Evening, Captain," the young man said, his voice a contrast to Silas' own, smooth and untainted by age. He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
The older man leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he appraised the newcomer. "[Name]," he acknowledged with a nod, taking in the way the boy's jacket hugged his shoulders, the way his jeans rode low on his hips. He was a pretty, Silas could admit that to himself, too pretty for his own good. But there was a sharpness to him, a glint in those eyes that was both pretentious and calculating. “You’re late.”
The informant rolled his shoulders once, fingers finding the edge of his sleeve and worrying the fabric. The office felt smaller than usual, the air, thicker. "Not late," he said, voice steady and calm, meeting Palmer’s gaze directly. "Just on time. You said evening, and it's...", he glanced briefly at the old clock on the wall, "...nine o'clock on the dot. Got a lead," [Name] continued, unbothered with pleasantries. "Something bigger than the usual shit. Thought you might want to know."
The lad’s posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a constantly unreleased energy. He didn't sit down, not until Silas told him to. "Gang activity's picking up in the 9th. The Hounds and the Drowned are at each other's throats again." [Name] shrugged. "Same old song. But there are new ones in town, calling themselves the Wraiths. Word is that they ain’t fucking around. Already took out two Drowned safe houses and the Hounds are scrambling to keep up with their narcotics. There's going to be a war for territory soon around the docks if someone doesn't step in."
"Haven't heard of them until now," Silas commented, leaning back in his chair. Smoke curled from the recently lit cigar between his fingers, drifting up to catch in the stale air of the office. "New players don't last long in this city."
"These ones might," [Name] countered. "They're not stupid, nor careless. They're not leaving tracks." He paused before adding, "Yet."
The captain tapped the cigar against the ashtray, watching the informant carefully. "You think you can find them before they notice you?"
[Name] shrugged, a slight lift of his shoulders. "Never said I couldn’t." He stepped closer to the desk, until he stood right in front of it, looking down at the older man. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance. “If I can find them," the informant said with an unraveling voice, "I can take them down before they become a real problem." He stopped, "For a price."
Silas’ eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression didn't change, gaze puncturing the lad all the same. He studied [Name] for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. “You're getting greedy," the captain blurted.
[Name] didn't falter. Didn't look away. He just met Palmer’s gaze head-on. "Greedy?" he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I prefer the term 'ambitious'. Besides, I thought we had an arrangement. I brought you what you need, now you should keep me safe and well-paid." He tilted his head slightly while a faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "Or have you forgotten our little deal?"
Silas took a long drag of his cigar, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly. The acrid scent filled the air between them, but [Name] didn't so much as cough. He just stood there, staring down at the captain, waiting. “No one's forgotten anything," Palmer admitted finally. "But these aren't your usual bottom-feeders. If these Wraiths are as smart as you say, they're not going to be easy to flush out."
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped. His eyes bored into the informant, searching, assessing. "And you want more money for it. More than our usual deal. Tell me, boy," Silas stated imperiously, "what makes you think you're worth it? What makes you think you can do something my own, official men can't? Because from where I'm sitting, you're just a kid playing in a man's game. A brat who's in over his head." The captain’s voice dropped to a near whisper, but it was no less threatening. "And I’m having a hard time believing a little punk like you is the key to shutting down a gang that's flying under the radar of the entire VFMP after you were nearly caught last time."
“But I wasn’t.” [Name] interjected, mischief in his eyes as he fixated on the older man’s hard stare. "And I’m not a kid when you're balls-deep inside me, Cap. I think that proves I'm not just some random little punk."
Palmer’s eyes flashed, a flicker of surprise and something darker, more primal. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his cheeks tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. The air between them grew heavier, charged with a sudden tension that had nothing to do with the threat of the Wraiths.
[Name] stood his ground. "I'm not here to blow smoke," he proceeded still calm but with an undercurrent of something defiant. "I'm here to make a problem disappear before it becomes your problem, and I’m damn good at what I do.”
The informant rested his palms on the the edge of the desk, slender fingers sprawling. “I've been doing this since before you promoted half your men to sergeant. I've got a nose for this shit, and you’re well aware that I know how to use it. I'm not afraid of some new gang wannabes with big goals and small brains.” He leaned forward slightly, face inches from his superior’s. "I'm not a punk, and certainly not a toddler. I'm your best fucking asset in this city and you better remind yourself of that. So what's it going to be, Cap? Will you keep underestimating me, or will you let me do what I do best and watch these Wraiths burn in exchange of a few more bucks?"
Palmer’s face stayed hard, but his expression had a small change, something indicating a feeling that wavered between anger and respect. “Cocky bastard," Silas muttered, but there was no real heat behind the words. His eyes took in the set of [Name]’s jaw, the challenge in his eyes. He couldn't deny the kid — no, not a kid, the man —had balls. He'd give him that much. “You've still got that smart mouth on you… and a head full of shit if you think I don't know what you are." Silas inclined his torso forward causing his nose to nearly touch the informant’s own. "But you're right about one thing, you are good at what you do."
[Name] crossed his arms over his chest, his posture casual. “I'm not here to fuck up, Cap. I'm here to get the job done. And I always do. I've never given you a reason to doubt me before, so don’t start now."
Palmer had to admit that all that arrogance was nothing more than hard-won confidence, something [Name] earned it. He'd watched the informant claw his way up from nothing, watched him take on jobs that would have broken a lesser man. And he'd delivered, every single time. Closed cases, brought in intel, kept the gangs in check and kept Veridian Falls from descending into complete chaos.
And through it all, he'd kept coming back to Silas’ office, to Silas’ bed, with a hunger that never seemed to be sated. At first, the captain had told himself it was just a stress relief, a way to blow off steam after a long day of dealing with the city's endless problems. But he couldn't deny the attraction that had been evoked right in beginning, the way [Name]’s wit and sharp tongue had set his blood on fire in a way no one else ever had in the moment they met.
[Name] smirked smugly, resting his elbows on the desk. "You know, Palmer," he purred lowly, "you've got that look on your face again. The one that says you're trying to figure out if you want to maul me or fuck me senseless."
Silas had always known the brat was a smart-ass, but he'd never been one to mince words, especially not when they were alone like this. And god help him, but the older man found that infuriating bravado of his the hottest fucking thing in the world. He took another long drag of his cigar, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly. "Careful, kid," the captain snarled, “Keep talking like that, and you might just get what you're asking for."
Palmer, despite his words, knew that he was giving in. Knew that as much as he tried to deny it, as much as he told himself he was just a man with needs and desires like anyone else, he couldn't ignore the fact that [Name] brought something out in him. A hunger, a desperation, a feeling of being seen and wanted in a way no one else ever had. Silas had fucked the informant more times than he could count, had buried himself inside that tight ass and lost himself in the sounds of pleasure he could coax from that clever mouth of his. And every time, he'd told himself it was just detached sex. But he couldn't deny the way thr young lad looked at him, with that mix of respect and awe, like he saw something in Palmer that no one else ever had. His savior. And nothing in the world could get the captain as hard as that look of admiration in [Name]’s eyes.
The informant smirked wider. "Is that a promise or a threat, Cap?" he asked polished. "Because I gotta say, I'm not scared of either one." [Name] reached out, bold as brass, and plucked the cigar from between Palmer’s fingers. He took a long, slow drag, his eyes never leaving Silas’ as he did. The smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled, a haze of gray that seemed to blur the room.
"You know, you're not as tough as you used to be. Or maybe..." [Name] leaned in, his breath hot against Silas’ ear. "Maybe I'm just not as afraid of you as I once were." His hand came to rest on his superior’s thigh, fingers splaying over the fabric of his pants, stomach laying across the desk. The young man could feel the heat of the captain, the solid muscle beneath the cloth. He could feel the way Palmer’s breath hitched, just slightly, at his touch. Tentatively, [Name] threw the cig to the ground and pressed his thumb down on that sensitive spot on the inside of Silas’ thigh, applying just enough pressure to make the older man twitch.
At that, the chief groaned. Palmer knew the little shit was enjoying this, relishing in the way he could make the big bad captain of the Veridian Falls Metropolitan Police lose his composure with just a touch and a few well-chosen words.
Just then, Silas’ hand shot out, grabbing [Name]’s wrist in a grip tight enough to make him wince, then yanking him forward until the younger man stumbled, stomach slamming against the surface of the desk. The informant let out a grunt at the impact, but Palmer didn't give him a chance to recover, his other hand already fisting in the hair at the nape of the lad’s neck. He used his grip to pull [Name]’s head towards his lips before leaning in and devouring his mouth in a brutal kiss.
The captain’s tongue pushed past the boy’s lips, claiming every inch of that playful mouth that had been taunting him moments before. He kissed him like he wanted to consume the man before him, to make him forget his own name let alone any foolish boldness. [Name] moaned breathily into the kiss, the sound vibrating against Palmer’s lips, spurring the older man on. Silas used the grip on [Name]’s hair to pull him further over the desk, until the young man was bent in half, ass tilted up perfectly for anyone who dared intrude on the captain’s office.
The brusque move had [Name]’s cock stiffening rapidly in the confines of his jeans. The rough fabric rubbed against his sensitive flesh as he squirmed beneath the captain's iron grip on his nape, the friction sending jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine. He could feel every ridge and groove of the wooden desk pressing into his gut as the hard surface contrasted with the molten heat building in his kernel.
[Name]’s hips began to move on their own, grinding his clothed erection against the desk as he kissed Palmer back with a desperate fervor. He couldn't help it. The captain's touch, the taste of nicotine in his oral cavity, the sheer dominance of him, it all combined to set the informant’s blood on fire, to make him ache with need and his hole to clench around air. He just knew he needed more of Silas’ touch, more of the way he made [Name] feel alive in a way no one else ever had, with utmost pleasure.
Soon enough, Palmer felt the rocky movement of the informant’s body against his desk, the rhythmic grinding of his clothed penis against the wood. He pulled back from the kiss, his grip on [Name]’s neck tightening as he took in the sight of the boy wantonly rutting against his desk, desperate for friction.
The captain grimaced. “Greedy little brat. Is that all you can think about? Getting your dicklet wet?" He punctuated his words with a sharp tug on [Name]’s hair, forcing the younger man's head to tilt to the side, baring the slender column of his throat. "You think you can just take what you want, when you want it? Hump against my desk like a bitch in heat?"
[Name] didn't let the admonishment deter him, not when his cock was throbbing so hard it ached, not when the desk below him seemed to be the only thing holding him back from losing control and throwing himself over Silas like a frenzied five-dollars harlot. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch Palmer’s earlobe between his teeth. He bit down hard enough to break skin as he, simultaneously, rolled his hips again, scrapping his penis against the desk with an obscene moan.
"Well, if the captain would rather I grind on his own cock instead… I'd be more than happy to oblige." He emphasized his words with another roll of his pelvis, a smirk tugging at his kiss-swollen lips as he saw Palmer falter. "Though I suppose this is a nice preview of what's to come. Isn't that right, sir?"
"And to think I've been trying to teach you some discipline." Silas snarled before licking a stripe up the informant’s throat, teeth grazing his skin before he bit down, hard enough to drawl blood. Without warning, he released [Name]’s hair and stepped back. "Don't move," he commanded, leaving no room for disobedient remarks. He waited just long enough to ensure the brat would comply before he rose from his chair with a creak of leather and wood.
[Name] couldn't suppress a shiver of anticipation as he watched the Palmer stride around the desk with purposeful steps, wicked thoughts filling his mind and making his dick throb painfully.
Silas came to stand behind [Name]’s bent form, his broad frame looming over the informant, casting him in shadow. Without ceremony, the captain grabbed the waistband of the younger’s trousers and underwear, grip unyielding. With a sharp, jerky motion, he yanked them down over the curve of [Name]’s ass, the fabric catching for a moment before settling on his upper thighs, leaving the globes exposed.
The informant’s breath hitched as he felt the first brush of Palmer’s calloused palm against the soft skin of his exposed ass. The captain's hand seemed to linger reverently, as he caressed the curve of the right cheek, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh. But before [Name] could lose himself in the sensation, a sharp crack split the air as a strong hand suddenly pulled back and smacked hard against the flesh. The informant gasped at the sudden sting body jerking forward at the impact before settling back onto the desk.
[Name]’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt the captain's hand wrap around his aching length, Silas’ thumb rubbed firm circles over the sensitive head of his cock, teasing the slit, the ridge, the weeping tip until the younger man was squirming with need. At the same time, the chief’s clothed cock pressed against the cleft of [Name]’s ass, and it didn’t take long for the captain to rock his hips forward, rubbing his virile member against the cheeks with a deliberate grind that made the informant's toes curl in his shoes.
With a feral growl, Palmer pressed two fingers against that tight and puckered hole that clenched around air, rubbing firm circles around the entrance until [Name] was pushing back against him, silently begging for more. Without warning, he thrusted his fingers inside, sinking knuckle-deep into the clutching heat of the lad’s ass. The informant let out a choked cry, back arching as he was suddenly filled, stretched around the intrusion. But he wasn’t given time to adjust, Silas’ fingers pumping in and out of his anus in a relentless rhythm that had him seeing stars.
At the same time, the chief never let up the punishing pace of his hand on the little prick’s cock. Silas could feel it throbbing, pulsing in his grip, the head a slick mess. He rubbed his thumb over the slit, smearing the pre-cum around the swollen head, using it as lubrication as he jerked his subordinate off with ruthless efficiency.
It only took a matter of moments before [Name] let out a guttural moan, body seizing up as his orgasm crashed over him like a tide. His dick jerked and spasmed in Palmer’s grip, thick ropes of cum splattering across the captain's palm. Silas felt the hot, sticky essence of the brat’s release coating his fingers, some of it dripping down to pool on the surface of the desk. With his lips curling, he pulled his fingers from [Name]’s member, bringing his hand up to the informant's face.
"Look at this mess you've made," Palmer mocked amusedly. "You should wear a red clown nose, considering how often you make a spectacle of yourself." He rubbed his slick, cum-stained fingers under his subordinate’s chin, smearing the seed across the younger man's skin. Then with a casual, almost dismissive motion, he wiped his fingers clean on the informant's shirt, smearing the sticky essence across the flimsy material until it was nothing more than a damp patch on [Name]’s chest.
The sensation of his shirt suddenly clinging to his skin seemed to partially pull [Name] off his high. "My, my, Captain," he let out in a breathless rasp, "if you wanted to get me out of my shirt too, all you had to do was ask.” A soft tsk sound left his lips as his hands came to rub at the semen left on his lower face, “Of course, I suppose I should be grateful you didn't just shove that magnificent fist of yours into my mouth to clean up the mess properly.”
Before [Name] could so much as think about straightening up, Palmer’s hand was back on the nape of his neck, gripping tight and manhandling him into place, keeping him bent over the desk. "Save it,” the captain growled, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the informant’s very bones. "Don’t even think about moving. This isn't over yet."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against the shell of [Name]’s ear as he spoke, his words dripping with promise, making the informant's spent cock give a valiant twitch of interest. "You do your best work when you've been thoroughly fucked, when your ass is still loose and sloppy, your hole gaping. When the memory of my cock rearranging your guts is still fresh in your mind. Do you understand what that means, boy?”, Silas said with a sharp roll of his hips, erected penis being felt by the tender flesh of [Name]’s cheeks. “It means that, with the possible shitstorm that might brew itself with those Wraiths due to your actions, it’s better that you are properly treated like the little slut you are before you risk yourself in a suicidal venture”.
“Why have you been taking so long to get your cock out, then, captain?”, [Name] questioned slyly. "If you want me at my best, why wait until now to give me what I need? Unless..." A wicked smirk curved his reddened lips. "Unless you're getting old, and it takes you longer to get it up nicely these days. So you just remain half hard, no matter what, which also means your fingers and maybe your tongue are the few useful parts of you left. I've heard that happens to men in their... what are you again? Forty-six?"
Silas’ forehead was instantly adorned with a wrinkle, irritation visible on his eyes at the informant’s ceaseless attempts of pressing his buttons. Without warning, he wrapped a strong hand around [Name]’s throat, squeezing just enough to make breathing a challenge and have the young man hissing. At the same time, he used his other hand to undo his belt, the clink of the buckle opening sharp in the charged air between them. The informant’s eyes widened as he felt the heavy ridge of Palmer’s erected dick pressing insistently against his tender hole, the captain's pants still mostly done up, but his rigid shaft springing free from his boxers and slapping against the split of his cheeks.
The captain grunted at the contact, compressing [Name]’s windpipe a bit tighter in response. “Try to breath”, he commanded leaving no room for indiscipline. At the same time, his other hand gripped the lad’s hips hard enough to bruise, and with one sharp thrust, he buried himself balls-deep in the exposed ass, the informant's tight heat enveloping him like a vise.
[Name]’s eyes rolled back, the breath he had left in his lungs rushed out of him in a gurgle, his throat constricted by Palmer’s punishing grip. His thighs quivered and trembled, the muscles jumping and fluttering wildly as they struggled to keep him upright, pinned as he was by the captain's relentless thrusts. Each drive of Silas’ hips pressed mercilessly against that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside [Name], his prostate screaming in overstimulated bliss as it was battered again and again, feeling every ridge and vein of the thick cock filling him up.
Each whimper coming out from the body under him, each choked gasp and broken moan, only served to stoke the flames of Palmer’s own arousal. An approving groan rumbled in the captain’s chest as he felt [Name]’s clench around his pistoning cock. The obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the office, mingling with the young man’a whorish sounds and the captain's own grunts of pleasure.
The hand around [Name]’s throat tightened, squeezing, constricting, until Silas could see the tendons standing out in stark relief, could feel the informant’s racing pulse fluttering wildly against his palm. Just as he felt the lad’s struggles begin to weaken, just as he sensed that sweet line between pleasure and pain blurring, he loosened his grip. Barely enough to allow a shuddering breath to fill [Name]’s lungs. Enough to keep him teetering on the knife's edge of consciousness.
The young man let out breathy mewls, his mind shorting out from the overwhelming pleasure radiating from where they were so brutally joined. His tongue lolled out, drool dripping down his chin as he was fucked into incoherence, reduced to a needy hole for Silas to use. "P-please, cap..." [Name] slurred, though he wasn't even sure what he was begging for anymore. More? Less? Faster? Harder? It all blurred together into a litany of broken pleas spilling from his lips.
Palmer’s thumb traced the column of the informant’s neck, feeling his pulse and the bob of his Adam’s apple. His informant, his subordinate, his plaything of countless nights, always so prickly, so sharp-witted, so ready and eager for his touch, his cock. The thought of it, the reality of it, made his hips surge forward with doubled vigor, pounding into [Name] with enough force to rock the wooden desk beneath them, for certain making enough noise that even Detective Rhodes could hear from the evidence room right under them.
Both men could feel their release building, pleasure cresting. Silas held it at bay, determined to wring every last drop of ecstasy from [Name]’s pliant body before he allowed himself that shattering moment of bliss.
Finally, the informant’s body convulsed as his orgasm crashed over him, vision whiting out as pleasure exploded behind his eyes. A strangled moan tore from his throat, back arching sharply as he came for a second time, untouched, his cock spurting weakly against the desk. His hole clenched and rippled around Palmer’s dick, gripping him as [Name] rode out the intense ecstasy.
Feeling that ass spasming and milking his cock thoroughly, Silas left out a loud exhale followed by a moan of his own. His shaft throbbed and pulsed as he hilted inside the informant, hot semen erupting from the tip to paint [Name]’s inner walls. Thick spurts of cum pumped into him as the chief emptied himself, marking the informant as his, filling him up until the young man could feel the heat of it sloshing inside him. Palmer’s grip on the boy’s throat loosened as the last waves of his release ebbed, chest heaving with exertion as he caught his breath.
Palmer tucked himself back into his pants, the sound of his belt buckle clinking as he fastened them with efficient motions. The captain reached down and fisted a hand in [Name]’s hair, gripping the strands tightly as he hauled the informant's head up by the roots. He leaned in close, his face mere inches from the lad’s, and studied the debauched visage before him. [Name]’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, his lips shiny with drool, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. Yet, even in such a state, a smirk tugged at the corners of the little prick’s mouth, his tongue lolling out to wet his lips in a provocative gesture.
"It wasn't that hard, was it?" [Name] teased, words caming out slightly garbled but still infused with a hint of his signature impertinence. "I mean, all you had to do was squeeze my throat and fuck me like you meant it. Not exactly rocket science, Captain."
Silas couldn't help but huff, a sound caught between amusement and exasperation, as he listened to the cheeky remark. Even now, even after being so perfectly used and filled, the brat still had the nerve to run his mouth. He shook his head, releasing the sweaty hair to allow the informant's head to flop back down to the desk with a dull thud.
"And now, I suppose you're going to tell me that all you need is a little walking around money before you toddle off to play hero with those Wraiths?"
[Name] let out a breathless chuckle in agreement, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the pleasant ache that had settled into his bones. "You know me too well, Silas," he agreed in a sated rasp. He pushed himself up slowly and uncoordinated, his muscles protesting the movement, and began to button his jeans with fingers that still trembled slightly. The informant made no move to clean the semen that had dripped down his thighs or that was leaking from his hole, leaving the evidence of their coupling to dry on his skin.
Palmer raised a brow, both amused and somewhat incredulous at the other man’s brazen lack of shame. "Not bothering to tidy up, I see," he remarked, his tone laced with a mix of exasperation and grudging admiration. "Leave it to you to wear another man's cum like a badge of honor."
[Name] flashed his superior a youthful grin, "Don't you worry, Captain. You know there ain’t no momma of mine around to be scandalized by the state of her baby boy's boxers. 'Sides," he added with a shrug, tugging his leather jacket closed over the shirt that had been used to wipe the remnants of his own seed from Silas’ hand, "even if she was, I reckon she'd be proud of me for puttin' the assets I inherited to good use." [Name] punctuated his statement with a wink, looking like the very picture of unrepentant sin.
Silas just shook his head, entertained. Without a word, he reached into his wallet by the drawer and pressed a wad of cash into the informant’s hand, the bills crisp. "Here," he said gruffly, "this should be enough to keep you in bullets and Band-Aids for a while." The captain paused, his gaze turning more serious as he fixed the younger man with a hard stare. “[Name]. I know you've got a habit of diving headfirst into the shit without lookin' first, but with these Wraiths… if you are being truthful about their potential danger... don't be a fool. For fuck's sake, don't go lookin' for trouble." There was an undercurrent of genuine concern in Silas’ voice, an unguarded moment slipping through his usual cold detachment. The brief mirch in the room had vanished completely in less than a minute.
[Name] blinked, momentarily taken aback by the captain's words. His expression changed swiftly and composed itself just as quick: a flicker of something akin to surprise, or perhaps even vulnerability, flashed across his face before he quickly shuttered it behind a acrid smirk. "Well,” he drawled, half-bitterly, "I guess that means you actually, finally, give a shit about me, then," he mused, only to dismiss the notion just as swiftly with a soft shake of his head. "Nah.” He tucked the money into his jacket pocket and turned to leave, throwing a casual "Later, Captain" over his shoulder and stepping out of the dark office before his contractor could respond.
An unfamiliar tightness settled in Silas’ chest as he watched [Name] stride out of his office, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that left an unsettling emptiness in its wake, not bothering to hold the lad back. It was a sensation he couldn't quite name, this strange tugging in his gut, and one he had no intention of examining too closely. Palmer was not a man given to introspection. His relationship with the young man was simple, or so he told himself. Merely an exchange of favors, a mutually beneficial arrangement that preserved the little order left in a city that had long since lost its moral compass.
But somewhere throughout the years, the lines had blurred. When had it happened? He couldn't say. Perhaps it had been gradual, until one day Palmer found himself standing on the precipice of a realization he had no desire to acknowledge. He pushed the thought away, his jaw clenching as he reached for his cigars, the pack now nearly empty. Just an arrangement, he told himself, taking a bitter drag, nothing more.
But even as he tried to convince himself of that lie, he knew it rang hollow. There was a reason he kept [Name] close, why he went to lengths to protect the informant even as he used him. It wasn't just about the intel, the inside knowledge from gangs that kept his precinct afloat in a sea of corruption. No, there was something else.
Silas leaned back against the desk, admiring the obsidian-black sky outside his window, the crescent moon high. The city’s street lamps were a dying ember, the light fading from the historical district, while the captain was left to hold the pieces together. With [Name]. Him and his informant, two broken things that fit in the rot, trading heat and secrets in equal measure.
He sighed. This was too much, too close to something that resembled sentiment, and he had no use for that. Not in Veridian Falls, specially not as captain of the VFMP. Sentiment was a luxury he couldn't afford, not when he had a job to do, not when the city needed him to hold the line with his steadiness instead of weakness.
Silas Palmer was one of the only constants in Veridian Falls, one of the couple unyielding pillars in a rotting city. And he would be damned if he let some dirty street-runt break him. Not now. Not ever.
Just imagine Loser!boyfriend and hot!reader, where hot!reader legit is one of the most hottest guys you could ever met and then you look over to his fuckass loser of a boyfriend that he loves so much. Loser!boyfriend not realising how much of an effect he has on you, people wonder how this man bagged such a baddie all of a sudden??? Like bro has the hottest guy in the world and he’s acting like its not a big deal?!
Imagine Loser!boyfriend who loves it whenever you send him pics or videos of you riding a dildo and moaning out his name like a proper whore. Ass up face down moaning and whimpering in the sheets as you cum repeatedly on the custom silicone dick that had a resemblance to his own dick. His glasses fogging up as he fists his fat cock , Hot!reader mailing his loser boyfriend a picture of him fucking himself on a huge dildo whilst on a family vacation, which the picture would and WILL be used to master bait to in the toilet,
Since the poor boy cant feel your body against his he has to resort to pictures and videos of you and him when you two were getting spicy together outside your dads pool, fucking like rabbits till the sun raises and then sets. His cum flowing out of your abused hole but then he plugs you up so none of his seed can escape you.
Imagine Loser!boyfriend who basically worships the floor you walk on, sniffs your underwear, your clothes and gropes you whenever you and him are cuddling in bed, he cant help but want to stick his cock inside you whilst you two are visiting family together, you tell him he has to wait until you both get back home but he cant help it!! He has to cum in you so badlyy..you are just so fucking hot he cant help but come in his pants just thinking of you face down ass up arching your back and presenting your ass to him.
Imagine loser!boyfriend showing you all his favourite anime figure collection to you, hoping he wont get judged for such childish behaviour you surprisingly found it very cute, buying him new anime figures whenever you got the chance, and even sometimes dressing up for him in hid favourite anime characters outfit’s, just for him to rip it off you and fuck you till you couldn’t spell your own name, you would have to take hours just to try and get his cock soft, that mission would be impossible with you being in such an oufit, you do sometimes wonder why all the anime he watches are so sexual,
Saying things like “why are they showing so much skin?” And “do you like this kind of stuff honey?..” he would get nervous thinking you might take him as a weirdo but u only smiled “how about i dress up the same way?” Which only leads to you bring smothered in cum and having a gaping asshole for hours on end,
Besides the point he thinks hes so out of your league but you thought that same about him.
Authors note: just a small idea that popped in my head a while ago.
The worn leather of Toji's favorite armchair groaned under his shifting weight as he stretched, muscles flexing beneath his tight black t-shirt. He'd been staring at the ceiling fan's lazy rotation for twenty minutes, the silence between them comfortable but charged—the kind that often preceded his more... unconventional requests. His gaze slid sideways, landing on you curled at the other end of the sofa, soft hoodie swallowing your frame, the gentle curve of your belly pressing against the fabric as you absently scrolled through your phone. A slow, predatory smile touched his lips.
"Hey," Toji's voice, low and rough, cut through the quiet. You glanced up, meeting eyes that held a familiar, dangerous glint. "Been thinkin'. Wanna sit on my face?" The question landed bluntly, devoid of preamble, like a hammer on an anvil. Heat flooded your cheeks instantly, crimson blooming across your skin as your grip tightened on the phone. Your mind raced—images of your own heavier thighs, the softness of your hips, the sheer mass pressing down on him. "Toji, no," you stammered, voice tight with embarrassment, shrinking back slightly into the cushions. "I'd crush you. Seriously."
The lazy amusement vanished from Toji's expression, replaced by something sharp and offended. He sat bolt upright, the chair protesting loudly. "Crush me?" His laugh was harsh, incredulous. He shoved the sleeves of his shirt up past thick forearms corded with muscle, veins standing out like ropes. "Look at me," he commanded, voice dropping to a growl thick with challenge. "You think I can't handle your weight? That I'm some weakling?" He leaned forward, elbows resting on powerful thighs, eyes locked onto yours with fierce intensity. "I bench press more than your whole damn body. Trust me, sweetheart. I want every inch of you." The raw certainty in his tone, the sheer physicality radiating off him, made your breath hitch.
Before you could muster another protest, his large hands were on your hips, effortlessly hauling you across the short space between sofa and chair. The world tilted—leather met your knees, the scent of him, sweat and something uniquely masculine, filled your senses—and then you were lowering yourself onto the heat of his waiting mouth. His tongue, broad and demanding, found you instantly, a hot, wet pressure parting you, delving deep with a groan that vibrated against your most sensitive skin. One calloused hand wrapped firmly around your cock, stroking in perfect, devastating rhythm with the relentless thrusts of his tongue inside you. Pleasure detonated, white-hot and blinding, tearing a ragged cry from your throat as your vision blurred—every nerve ending screaming under the dual assault, the impossible pressure building until you shattered completely.
He didn't relent. His tongue worked you with brutal precision, lapping at the clenching heat, drinking down the tremors wracking your thighs. His fist pumped your cock steadily, squeezing the base just enough to drag the unbearable ecstasy out, forcing wave after wave of sensation to crash over you. You braced trembling hands against the back of the chair, head thrown back, gasping uselessly for air as he devoured you, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room, mingling with your choked whimpers. The sheer force of his hunger, the absolute certainty in every lick and suck, obliterated any lingering shred of embarrassment—replaced only by raw, overwhelming sensation.
Just as the aftershocks threatened to subside, Toji shifted. His free hand slid up your belly, beneath your hoodie, fingers splaying possessively over the soft curve of your stomach. He held you pinned there, impaled on his tongue, his gaze locking onto yours from below—dark, dilated pupils drowning out the green, filled with primal satisfaction. "See?" His voice was thick, muffled against your skin, the vibration sending fresh jolts through your spent body. "Told you I could take it." He punctuated the claim with another deep, swirling thrust of his tongue, making you jerk helplessly against him, a fresh moan ripped from your throat. "Fuckin' perfect."
He didn't stop. The rhythm resumed—deep, penetrating strokes of his tongue inside you, the firm, slick glide of his hand on your cock, the possessive weight of his palm on your belly anchoring you. Pleasure coiled anew, tighter, hotter, building towards another impossible peak already. You could only cling to the leather, surrendering to the relentless expertise of his mouth and hands, lost in the sheer, overwhelming proof of his strength and his desire. The chair groaned again beneath the shifting weight, a low, rhythmic counterpoint to the slick sounds and your ragged breathing.
Your thighs trembled against his temples, pressing involuntarily closer as another orgasm gathered force. Toji growled approval against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through your core. His fingers tightened on your hip, pulling you down harder onto his mouth, demanding everything. "That's it," he rasped, breath hot and damp. "Give it to me." His tongue curled, pressing hard against that spot inside you, and his thumb swept firmly over the head of your cock, smearing pre-come. The dual sensation tore a broken cry from your throat as you came again, harder than before, vision whiting out completely.
He rode the aftershocks with you, tongue gentling to lapping, coaxing pulses, his hand slowing to lazy, possessive strokes. His gaze remained locked on yours, heavy-lidded and impossibly satisfied. The scent of sex and sweat hung thick in the air. He finally pulled back slightly, lips glistening, and gave the soft swell of your belly beneath his hand a firm, appreciative squeeze. "Best fuckin' seat in the house," he rumbled, voice rough with exertion and pride. A slow, smug grin spread across his face. "Told you I could handle it."
You slumped forward, boneless, forehead resting against the cool leather backrest, utterly spent. Toji's large hands slid down to cradle your hips, steadying you. He pressed a final, lingering kiss high on your inner thigh, a soft counterpoint to the intensity that had just shattered you. "Anytime," he murmured, the promise thick in his voice. "Anytime you wanna feel that again." His thumb traced idle circles on your skin, the possessiveness still there, but gentler now. Content.
He shifted beneath you, the movement deliberate and controlled. Strong arms lifted you effortlessly, settling your trembling weight back onto his lap sideways. Your head lolled against his shoulder, the solid muscle beneath his shirt a comforting anchor. The room smelled sharply of sex and leather, mingling with the faint, clean scent of his skin. You could feel the steady thud of his heartbeat against your cheek, surprisingly fast. His own arousal pressed hard against your thigh, unmistakable even through his jeans.
"Still think you'd crush me?" Toji's voice was a low rumble near your ear, laced with lazy amusement and undeniable pride. He didn't wait for an answer. One hand slid under your hoodie again, fingers splaying possessively over the soft curve of your belly. The other tilted your chin up, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his. His gaze was dark, satisfied, and utterly focused. "Good." He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that tasted faintly of salt and you. It was deep, claiming, sealing the unspoken truth: his strength wasn't just physical. It was the certainty with which he took exactly what he wanted – you.
His hand drifted lower, tracing idle patterns along the waistband of your sweats. The touch was light, almost teasing, yet it sent fresh tremors through your oversensitive body. You whimpered against his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss. Toji chuckled, the vibration humming against your lips. "Already?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to watch your flushed face. His thumb dipped beneath the fabric, brushing the damp, tender skin below your navel. "Thought I wrung you out good." The challenge was back in his eyes, daring you to want more.
He shifted beneath you, the hard ridge of his own arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. His grip tightened on your hip, pulling you flush against him. The movement was deliberate, grounding. "Feel that?" he growled, his breath hot on your neck. "All you." His free hand slid down, palming himself through the denim with a rough groan. "Fuckin' wrecked me too." The raw admission, paired with the blatant evidence of his need, sent a fresh jolt of heat pooling low in your belly. His eyes, dark and hungry, held yours. "Ride me." It wasn't a question. It was an order wrapped in gravel and promise. "Show me how much you need that."
You moved, shaky limbs finding purchase on the worn leather. The slide down onto him was slow, deliberate, filled with the thick stretch and burning fullness that stole your breath. His hands clamped onto your hips, guiding the rhythm—deep, grinding rolls that dragged a guttural moan from his chest and punched ragged gasps from your throat. His gaze never wavered, locked onto yours, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face as he filled you completely, again and again. The intensity was different now—less frantic conquest, more claiming possession, a deep, resonant pulse that echoed the pounding of your joined hearts.
Afterward, you slumped forward against his chest, trembling, utterly spent. Toji didn't push you away. His arms wrapped around you, solid and secure, one large hand smoothing slow circles on your back. The other brushed sweat-damp hair from your forehead. His breathing was heavy but slowing, his heartbeat a steady drum against your ear. "Easy," he murmured, the roughness softened into something almost tender. "Got you." He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, lingering there, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your spine. The silence wasn't charged anymore; it was thick with shared exhaustion and a quiet, possessive contentment. He shifted just enough to pull the discarded hoodie closer, draping it over your cooling shoulders. "Rest."
He stayed perfectly still beneath you, letting you recover, his own arousal softening but not entirely gone. Minutes stretched, marked only by the slowing rhythm of your breaths and the distant hum of the refrigerator. When your trembling finally eased, his hand slid down, fingers gently tracing the curve of your hip where his grip had left faint marks. "Alright?" he asked, voice low and gravelly. You managed a weak nod against his collarbone. "Good." His touch moved to your belly, resting there with a heavy, comforting weight. "Felt perfect," he stated simply, a quiet rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest. "Every damn pound."
Eventually, he shifted again, carefully lifting you off his lap. Before you could protest the loss of warmth, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest. He carried you down the short hallway to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. The cool sheets welcomed your aching body as he laid you down. You watched, eyelids heavy, as he fetched a warm washcloth from the bathroom. He returned, sitting on the edge of the bed, and began wiping you down with surprising gentleness, cleaning the sweat and traces of his own release from your thighs and belly, his touch firm yet careful. The warm water soothed your oversensitive skin.
He tossed the washcloth aside and slid into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. His arm snaked under your neck, drawing you close until your back was flush against his chest, his body a furnace at your spine. His other arm draped heavily over your waist, hand resting possessively on your stomach. "Sleep," he ordered, his lips brushing the nape of your neck. His breathing deepened almost instantly, a low, steady rhythm against your hair. Safe, claimed, and utterly spent, you drifted off, anchored by the unyielding weight of him and the lingering echo of his growled promise: "Anytime."
Authors note: let me know how we liked this one! I love this man so much, he is just so uggh but anyway. Leave any comments tips or suggestions down below!!
pairing: Ryomen Sukuna (as Micheal Myers) × male reader
synopsis: The shape moves in silence through the night, always just a shadow behind you. Every step you take, he’s there. When he catches you, there’s no mercy, only the slow, perfect filling that leaves you trembling and marked from the inside out.
content warnings: 18+, smut, stalking, toxic ex dynamics, bottom male reader, raw sex, breeding kink, filthy talk + creampie + cum stuffing, cum play, choking, biting, possessiveness, public danger setting, orgasm control/overstimulation.
word count: 1.2k words
Halloween had always been noisy in the city, too many strangers in cheap masks crowding the sidewalks, but tonight the noise blurred into something muffled, drowned beneath the weight of footsteps that weren’t your own. Every time you turned, you saw him—tall, broad, standing just close enough for him to be in your line of sight, his face hidden by a plain white mask that didn’t belong among the cheap plastic fangs and neon makeup. He never brushed shoulders, never touched, just lingered a few paces back like your shadow had stretched into something solid.
At first, you told yourself it was nothing. Too many drinks, too much smoke and laughter from the party clinging to your head, but the pit in your stomach didn’t ease. The streetlights flickered overhead. Every time you thought you’d shaken him off, he was there again. Watching.
By the time you cut into a narrow alley to lose him, your chest was already tight, sweat breaking beneath your collar. The brick wall at the dead end hit you like a slap—you’d trapped yourself without meaning to. And when you spun, he was already there, stepping closer, head tilted like he was amused by the panic rolling off you.
“Who the fuck are you?” Your voice cracked sharper than you wanted.
The man reached up, fingers dragging slow against the mask before tugging it free.
Your heart dropped into your stomach.
Sukuna.
The scars on his mouth twisted into that grin you knew too well, the kind that had once made you weak, the kind that still made heat crawl up your throat even now. He looked good in the worst way, like a wound you hadn’t let heal.
“Miss me?” His tone was casual, mocking, but his eyes burned. “Been a long time, huh? Didn’t think I’d just let you walk away.”
Your lips parted, but nothing came. Weeks of silence. Weeks of convincing yourself you’d done the right thing, leaving him behind, refusing to keep swallowing his chaos. And now here he was, like your thoughts had dragged him out of the dark.
“You’ve been—fuck, Sukuna, you’ve been following me?”
He chuckled, low, head dipping closer until you felt the warmth of his breath on your cheek. “Every night. You think I wouldn’t keep track of what’s mine? You thought you’d find someone else, let some other asshole touch what belongs to me? No chance.” His voice curled lower, taunting. “I know every step you’ve taken since you left. I know every person who’s looked at you. None of them deserve you. You’re mine.”
You hated how your body reacted, the shiver running down your spine, the way your thighs pressed together. Old habits, old memories—you could still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, the stretch of him splitting you open, the way he never left you empty.
“You’re insane,” you spat, though it came out thinner than you meant.
He grinned wider, scarred mouth cruel and knowing. “And you’re still hard for me.”
Then his mouth was on yours, hard and taking, teeth scraping until your lips burned. You tried to push him away weakly, hands braced against his chest, but when his tongue shoved between your lips, your knees buckled. He swallowed the noise you made triumphantly, grinding you into the wall like the city outside didn’t exist.
When he pulled back, your chin was wet, your breath stolen. He looked feral.
“You taste the same,” he muttered, one hand sliding down to cup your ass, squeezing until you gasped. “Like you’ve been waiting for me to come back.”
The fight bled out of you when he spun you into the wall, pressing his chest to your back, rutting against you like he couldn’t hold back. His zipper dragged open and the hot weight of his cock pressed against your ass, thick and heavy, grinding until you whimpered.
“Sukuna—”
He cut you off with a growl. “Shut up. You wanted this. You wouldn’t be shaking like this if you didn’t.” His breath was sharp at your ear, his voice rough with need. “You think leaving me changed anything? This hole still belongs to me. Still begging to be filled.”
You gasped as he shoved your pants down, spitting into his hand before smearing it between your cheeks. There was no slow prep, no patience—just his cock nudging against your rim, the blunt head pushing until your body gave way with a sting that made you curse. The stretch was brutal, familiar in the worst way, every inch splitting you open until he was seated deep, groaning against your neck.
“Fuck—tight as ever. Clenching like you missed me.” His teeth scraped your skin, biting down until pain sparked hot. “Say it. Tell me you missed this cock splitting you open.”
You didn’t answer, too busy clawing at the brick for balance as he pulled back and slammed in again. The alley echoed with it—skin on skin, your muffled moans, his guttural groans. Each thrust was deeper, harder, grinding into the spot that had you seeing stars.
“You’re mine,” he growled, pace picking up, the sound of his balls slapping against you filthy in the night. “No one else gets to fuck you like this. No one else gets to stuff you full and keep you leaking. Gonna fuck my cum so deep it won’t leave for days.”
Your cock slapped against your stomach, dripping, untouched, every thrust jarring pleasure through you until you couldn’t hold back the noises spilling out. Shame burned your face, but your body was already betraying you—pushing back into him, desperate for more.
“That’s it,” Sukuna snarled, one hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision spark. “Take it. Take all of me. You’ll come untouched, won’t you? Just from being stuffed like my personal cocksleeve.”
You choked on a whimper, the heat in your abdomen snapping. You came hard, spilling against the wall, legs trembling as he held you steady and fucked you through it. The orgasm wrung you out, left you raw and shaking, but Sukuna wasn’t close to done.
“Pathetic,” he spat, hips slamming faster. “Already creaming around me, begging for more.” His hand pressed hard against your stomach, feeling the drag of his cock inside. “Gonna pump you full. Gonna breed you until your hole knows no one else but me.”
The words burned, filth coating every thrust, until his hips stuttered. He shoved in deep, grinding until you swore you could feel him in your throat, and then the heat flooded you. Thick, hot, spilling over as his cock throbbed inside you, filling you until it leaked down your thighs. He groaned against your neck, hips rocking, forcing it deeper, holding you there as though he could mold you to keep it all inside.
When he finally pulled out, cum spilled down your skin in messy rivulets, obscene in the glow of the streetlight. He laughed low, shoving two fingers into your hole, scooping the mess and pushing it back in while you whimpered.
“Not wasting a drop,” he said, smug. He licked the mess from his fingers, eyes locked on yours as he sucked them clean. “Tastes like mine. Always will.”
You sagged against the wall, legs barely holding, your head spinning with the smell of sweat and sex. Sukuna tugged his mask back on, still grinning like a psychopath.
“Next Halloween?” he mused, stepping back into the shadows. “Fuck that. I’m not waiting a year. You’re mine now, and I’m taking you whenever I want.”
The alley went silent when he vanished, but the ache between your legs and the cum dripping down your thighs was proof enough he’d been real. Proof you weren’t rid of him at all.
synopsis: You step out to gather produce on your family’s farm, only to stumble upon something horrifying hidden in the dust. Before you can react, a massive, silent stranger appears, dragging you into a dim, grimy butcherhouse. Your heart pounds, breath ragged, every press of him against you leaving you trembling, slick, and helpless under his weight.
content warnings: 18+, smut, talking, capture, bottom male reader, graphic gore and violence, primal sex, dubcon-ish, messy, body fluids, intense suspense and horror, dominance and power imbalance.
word count: 1.4k words
Sunlight poured down in lazy golden streams, warming your shoulders, your neck, the backs of your hands dusted with soil. The dirt under your boots was soft and familiar, crumbly in the way only a well-loved farm’s soil could be. Your basket jostled gently against your hip as you walked along the rows of vegetables, tomatoes bumping against onions and fresh sprigs of rosemary peeking out, their fragrant scent filling your nose.
You crouched to pick a particularly plump tomato, rolling it carefully in your palm, smiling at its perfect sheen. The slight warmth of the sun soaked through the skin, and you inhaled its earthy sweetness. Behind you, the cabbages swayed gently in the breeze, corn tassels brushing against each other, leaves whispering secrets you couldn’t quite hear but somehow felt in your bones.
A few bees buzzed lazily around the herbs, their tiny wings a soft hum in the quiet afternoon. Somewhere distant, a bird trilled, hopping from branch to branch, chasing an invisible melody. You wiped your hands on your pants, smudging dirt across your skin, and couldn’t help but grin. There was something about this—the sun, the dirt, the scent of herbs, the weight of the basket in your hands—that felt completely yours.
You bent to tuck a sprig of thyme back into the basket, brushing your fingers over the tender leaves. The smell of fresh earth, ripe vegetables, and sun-warmed herbs mixed together like a song you knew by heart. You hummed a little tune your mother used to sing when she weeded the garden, letting it drift lazily into the air. For a moment, everything was perfect. Quiet. Ordinary. Safe.
Even your boots seemed to celebrate the simple work of walking the rows, kicking up dust that sparkled in the sunlight. You paused to admire the neat rows of green, leafy cabbages, the sun glinting off their broad leaves. Corn stalks swayed with the wind, tassels brushing like old friends greeting each other. You could feel your chest swell with pride: this land, this produce, the way the earth gave back what you put in—it was a rhythm, a comfort, a small, perfect world in your hands.
You straightened, basket in hand, and glanced down a row of tomatoes, smiling at their ripeness. Maybe tonight you’d slice a few for dinner, maybe toss them with olive oil and herbs you’d just picked. The thought made your stomach flutter in the simplest, happiest way. You crouched, ran your fingers through the soil, brushing away tiny clumps, marvelling at the faint warmth still trapped there.
And then—something, a shape that shouldn’t be there, catching the sunlight in all the wrong ways.
It wasn’t red like the tomatoes. Not green like the leaves. Not brown like the soil.
It lay there, twisted in the dirt. Limbs bent wrong. Skin pale and streaked with dark, dried blood. Your stomach dropped, bile rising as the gentle hum of life around you—bees, birds, wind—seemed to vanish, swallowed by an instant, horrific silence.
Your basket slips from your hands. Tomatoes crumble against the dirt. Herbs scatter. Onions roll and tumble.
It’s a corpse. A mangled corpse.
A scream catches in your throat, but you can’t make it out. Your hands fly to your mouth, knuckles white, fingers trembling. You step back, slip on the dust, stumble, and your basket tips over. On instinct, you try to scramble away, but your legs feel heavy, leaden. Heart hammering, chest tight, panic rising.
Then you sense him.
A shadow shifts in the corner of your vision. Massive. Broad. The air seems to thicken around him. Thick arms, a chest so wide it seems to swallow the space around him. A leather mask stitched roughly together, eyes hidden behind dark holes. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move like a normal human. Every step is predatory.
You stumble back, heart hammering, trying to retreat, but the shadowy figure moves faster than seems possible. Hands clamp around your arms, yanking you off your feet. You crash through the low brush behind the farmstand, branches tearing at your clothes, and then—suddenly—you’re slammed into the doorway of a small, grimy butcherhouse tucked just past the treeline, metal hooks scraping as you hit the counter inside.
Then his hands are on you, unyielding as he grabs your wrists, and yanks them behind your back. You hit the ground, knees scraping against the floor, and his body presses against yours. The only sound is the low rumble of his breath and the scrape of leather against your clothes.
“I—I’ll do anything!” you choke out, voice high, broken. “Please—please just don’t—”
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t need to. His grip is iron, holding you flush against him, and you can’t move or think—just feel.
Your chest heaves. Hips tremble, trembling uncontrollably against him. Your knee catches on a stone, scraping the skin. You hiss, pressing a hand to it, ignoring the sting as he presses closer, the heat of his body pressing you into the counter Panic twists with shameful arousal, and you can’t stop yourself from shivering, pressing back instinctively.
He moves more slowly, every inch measured. Hands on your hips, fingers pressing, dragging you flush against his body. Grinding, rocking, testing. You whimper and shiver in fear and lust. Every motion is punishing. Every inch of friction presses you closer to breaking.
He presses against you first. You can feel the weight of him through your clothes, the solid heat of his chest against yours. His hands grip your hips, dragging you flush against the counter, holding you in place. You can’t move, can’t escape—the rough wood scratches your palms, hooks scrape lightly against your wrists, and the tension in his body radiates through you.
Slowly, he shifts his hips against you, grinding. The friction is overwhelming. Your breath catches, chest heaving, knees trembling. You whimper, pressing back instinctively, arching, and he presses harder, trapping you against the cold metal. Every movement is teasing, staking claim, dragging out the tension until your body is trembling, desperate, aching.
Only after that—after your muscles are taut, your body slick with sweat and warmth, after the grinding has wrung you half-mad—does he finally begin, slow and heavy, every thrust deliberate, every motion measured. Hooks scrape against your wrists as he pins you, pulling you closer, forcing you exactly where he wants you. Your back arches against the counter, nails digging into the rough wood, and a strangled groan escapes your throat as heat and pressure consume you completely.
The air is thick with sweat and the faint scent of sawdust. You feel it on every inch of your skin. Each thrust presses you deeper, harder. The mixture of panic and raw arousal curls through your veins. Every gasp, every whimper, every tremble seems to excite him more. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. He moves against you like he owns the space, pulling you further into the impossible weight of him.
You try to move, squirm, escape, but the hooks, the counter, his hands, his sheer strength—nothing budges. You’re trapped, pinned, held in place, and every motion he makes drives you further into desperation.
Sweat drips down your spine. Blood and grime coat your palms. Your chest heaves. Your knees threaten to give out. And yet, his rhythm never falters. Every motion crushes you into the counter, pulling you further than you thought you could go.
You cry out. Shudder. Leak everywhere, sticky and trembling. Your body betrays you, writhing, arching. He adjusts, pressing deeper until you’re utterly undone. Every thrust is chaotic. You’re coated in sweat, your own fluids all over him.
Time slips. You can’t tell if seconds or hours pass. Only the relentless rhythm, the oppressive heat, the raw, filthy, overwhelming sensation of him.
When it’s over, you collapse onto the counter, trembling, soaked in your own filth. He stands back for a moment, chest heaving, silent. You’re gasping, knees weak, body trembling uncontrollably.
And then…he lifts the mask.
Sweat streaks down the stitched leather as he peels it away. Black hair plastered to a forehead. Jagged scars across a strong, angled jaw. Eyes dark, piercing, intense. Broad shoulders, thick arms, chest powerful and slick with grime and sweat. Lips thin, but full when slightly parted. You can’t speak. Can’t move. Your chest heaves.
He doesn’t need a name. You don’t need one. He is the butcher, the stranger, the predator who left you trembling, ruined, coated in sweat and grime, entirely his.
kinktober extra — gun play leon s. kennedy x bttm male reader
ⓘ neighbour (slight ooc) leon ! clothed leon naked reader ! he puts the gun up your ass
The outbreak was doing you no good, and the fact that you were all alone when all went to hell wasn't helping much either. However, being locked in the safety of your home gave you time to hideout while the worst washed over. Though eventually, you were forced outside to scavenge for food. Unlocking your front door as delicate as tip toeing around a sleeping lion, you quietly stepped outside the comfort of your home.
You were fortunate enough to be greeted with desolate streets; only the occasional ripped up paper or trash rolled across the ground. You had almost nothing, not even a gun, just a baseball bat you bought awhile ago to play with your friends once, only to never touch it again until now. At least you took the time to impale nails to add a little more offense to your weapon.
After some soft crunching of gravel under your feet and walking through eerily quiet roads, you were met with a convenience store. The neon signs were busted and didn't glow anymore but you were able to make out some un-raided shelves behind the shattered windows.
You pushed on the front door, the quiet jingle of the door opening made you jump out your skin for a second, why'd the bell still work despite everything else being broken? You tried to keep your footsteps light, navigating around the fallen shelves and racks on the floor. Seeing a few canned foods still untouched and packets of chips as well as some beverages, you felt a twinge of relief wash over you. This was probably enough for you to not go outside for a few weeks.
You decided to walk behind the register, searching for some candy or others that would be stocked there. With no luck your eyes met the employees only door, slightly ajar. Clutching your bat in your right hand, you slowly opened the door before you were met with a light tap on your forehead. A gun, held by a blonde man who seemed to have seen it all.
“A survivor? I feel like its been ages since I've seen another living human being,” He sighed, lowering his weapon and pulling you into the room by your arm. You felt him pause abruptly once getting a good look at your face and you blinked away your initial fear upon having a gun pointed to your head.
“Oh, you're my neighbour aren't you?” The corners of Leon's lips twitched into a slight curve but not enough to be counted as a wholehearted smile.
“Leon? I thought everyone in the neighbourhood turned,” You on the other hand couldn't help but smile seeing a familiar face after fully believing you were the only human left on earth. You take a small glance around the room, noting the equipment stuffed into one corner and a makeshift sleeping bag as well as a first aid kit that had been visibly used.
You knew he was an agent from having small chats over the fence, and from the looks of things, even those who undergo arduous training suffered — even if it was a little bit more bearable for them than others.
Leon's grip eventually loosens and he turns his back to you as he walks to the far wall, sliding down against it into a seated position. From here, the bandaged up gash on his side peeks out from the rips of his shirt. That's why the glass was as broken as it was, it was a sign of Leon's fight with the undead.
Following in his footsteps you go to sit down beside him, pulling your knees to your chest as you turn to look at him. His eyebags have never been darker and there's a frown that stains his face. Leon breaks the silence while pulling his knee up to rest his arm on it, his gun clacking as he moved.
“So, it's just you?” He questions, and you can hear the awkwardness in his voice. He's never been a good talker, everytime you met him while on a walk thr conversations usually ended with a quick excuse to pull away from it. You blame it on him having to see more horrors than the average person.
“Is that a bad thing?” You mean it in a playful way, placing your hands over your knees as a cushion for your cheek to rest on. You almost burst out laughing when you see Leon tense and you can practically see the panic that he's offended you in his eyes.
“No— No, not at all,” he tries to defend himself.
“Would you rather that flower girl who lives down the street?” It's a running joke that the neighbourhood shares of Leon that the big, cold agent is in love with the soft, florist girl.
He shoots you a glare, one that shows just how many times he's heard it over and over again. Instead of replying, he turns his head with a scoff like a bunny stomping its foot angrily. You brush it off as well after seeing his lack of a response and your eyes draw to the gun that's still held firmly in Leon's hand. It would be handy for you to learn how to use one since the bat won't always be useful.
“Do you think you could maybe teach me how to use that?” You ask almost hesitantly, fiddling with your fingers in a nervous habit.
“The gun?” Leon questions, tilting the gun so he could look at it properly. One part of him doesn't want you to use it, it creates an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach seeing a guy like you hold such a murderous weapon. The other part knows it's for the best, for your own protection when he has to part ways with you. After a minute of just staring at the gun, he finalises his decision.
“Sure, I guess you'll need it in the future,” he groans as he stands back up, hand on his thigh like he was an old man getting up from his rocking chair. He tousels his wispy blonde hair, combing it back with his fingers before focusing his attention on you.
His thick black eyelashes flutter as he stares at your face for a second, walking up to you and caging your hands in his. He guides your hands to the pistol, letting you feel the cold metal to familiarise yourself. He doesn't say a thing while he lets you feel the barrel and the grip. The grip feels almost scratchy which he lightly scoffs at your expression when your fingers ghosted over the texture.
“That's why my hands are all calloused,” he faces his palm up, showing you his toughened palm while he flexes his fingers.
“You have to hold it like this, firm grip, two hands.” Leon helps to guide your hands in place, adjusting your fingers and your wrist.
He whispers under his breath “Just like that,” watching as you hold the gun straight, aiming at the blank wall. You know it's best not to fire, though, that would attract whatever monster lays outside. The gun trembles, shaking like a stripped leaf, and you realise that your hands are quivering. You're not cut out for this. You feel the weight of Leon's hand lower the gun and he gently slips the weapon away from your hands and into his.
“You have to get desensitised to it, who knows what might happen without me,” Leon's eyebrows furrow and his nose creases from the pure thought of you getting captured and held at gun-point. It wasn't far from what could actually happen either considering the law was disregarded the moment people started eating eachothers brains.
Leon raises the pistol and presses the muzzle to your adams apple, feeling it bob from your swallows.
“Does it scare you?” It's not a threatening statement, it's him asking how you really feel having the gun pressed up against your skin. The hitch of your breath goes unnoticed as Leon drags the pistol lower to your chest. With the way he's looking down, you can see his dark eyelashes, a sliver of his muted blue iris' peeked through. He really was handsome.
“Or is it because you trust me that much?” The question jolts you out of your little trance, he was only your neighbour yet you didn't seem to react in fear when he held the gun to you.
“Maybe,” you breath out, letting your gaze flutter to the pistol dragging down your chest. Leon pulls it away before bringing it up and tapping the flat side of the barrel against your cheek. There's a certain look in his eyes, its almost pitiful like a hunter watching the deer caught in the net lay completely still, unfazed.
Leon leans closer to your face, his nose practically brushing against yours. You could almost make out the faint breaths if you listened close enough and you see his tongue dart out to wet his lips before he swallowed thickly.
“I think you're liking this a little too much,” he mutters, tilting his head slightly to the right as he looks down at you, his hair falling to the direction he moves his head at. The way Leon speaks now is hushed, sultry even. He's only half joking, he sees the way your eyelids flicker a little too rapidly when he glides the muzzle over your clothes.
Your face flushes, realising that he's caught on your little inner turmoil.
“It's just the adrenaline.” You swallow your lie like it's medication; it's hard to go unnoticed when you so obviously gulp. It's not fully a lie though — you've read in a previous article things like erections can happen due to adrenaline. You squeeze your eyes shut, almost like you're preparing to be scolded by Leon.
But all you're met with is a small sigh and a shake of his head.
“If you want it, do it quickly, we won't have time to indulge in distractions in the heat of things.” Your eyes fling open, caught off guard by the fact that the Leon, your neighbour, just gave you the greenlight. You look up at him through your lashes and he returns your gaze with a small glint of reciprocating desire. The absence of an opportunity for sex really catches up when you're surrounded by infected and never in a safe position.
Before you can even say anything, Leon is already slipping off your shirt; your jacket had already been discarded when you entered the employee's only room. He takes a moment to skim over your naked body, observing all the dips and curves, and the fact that your blush reaches all the way down to your shoulders. He brushes the muzzle over your chest, and upon seeing you shiver at the coolness, a smirk quirks on his lips.
“Cold?”
“Yeah,”
You whine, gripping his forearm in a lousy attempt to stop him from rubbing the metal on your nipple. It doesn't stop him though, he gently grazes your perky buds, chuckling softly as he watches your eyebrows knit from the feeling.
“Sorry then,” he hums with amusement coloring his tone. Leon's breath becomes shallower as he trails the gun down along the line in the middle of your abdomen, all the way down to your pants.
“You're going to be the death of me,” He grunts out, delicately guiding you to lean against the wall. His arm is wrapped so securely around your back like a warm embrace. The warmth of his arm around your bare back shields you from the frigid material of the wall but the second he slips it away from you your back arches off uncomfortably.
“Bare it,” Leon pushes you back against the wall and you whimper at the cold. Its somewhat cruel how he's doing this but you understand its to get your body used to the harsh changes in environments. He mumbled small praises that are inaudible to your ears but you can barely make out the words 'good boy.'
His fingers tug at your zipper, pulling it down but you reach out to stop him, noticing how he's not taking any of his clothes off. Like he was reading your mind, Leon scoffs with a small smirk.
“I can't, it's too risky to have to put anything on if we get ambushed,” He links his fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your boxers, stretching it out a bit before pulling them down to rest at your mid thigh.
“But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself,” He places one arm at the side of your head, caging it in, and his other weilds the pistol. He can't take off his clothes so he can't fuck you properly but he resorts to using his gun instead. It's shameless with the way he's spreading the soft flesh of your thighs apart with a gun like he was slotting his dick between them.
His eyes aren't on you, they're on your body, carefully sliding the hunk of metal against your hole. It almost hurts with how dry and cold the metal feels against your skin but you don't complain. Leon muses when he sees your cock twitch when he slides the muzzle up from the base to your pink tip. He quirks an eyebrow at you, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.
“Feels weird doesn't it? Promise once we're out of this shithole I'll give you everything you want,” Again, Leon goes off about something in the future. He's thinking of a future with you after things smooth over, you can't help but bite back the small moan you were going to let out. His bangs are now covering his eyes when he returns his gaze to your lower half.
Your hips instinctively move against the barrel of the gun, sliding yourself against it. Its like the pleasure is almost there but not really, its left you struggling to find good friction. Leon notices your strangled whines and contorted face and he feels slightly guilty for not being able to give you the relief you definitely need.
He spits on the gun, lubing it up and taking a mental note to polish and clean it afterwards. Leon tilts the muzzle up, wriggling it past your tight rim. When the tip of gun enters you, you gasp, straightening your body from the foreign object being stuffed in your ass.
“Leon—” your voice cracks.
“Trust me.”
He can hear the slight panic in your voice and his palm moves to cover your eyes. You're squirming, unsure of whether to lean in or pull away from the sensation. He pushes himself up against you to keep you still since his hands are already full. Leon groans gently at how much warmth he can feel seeping into his clothes from your body heat.
He slowly pushes the gun further, tuning into the soft squelching sounds of the metal making its way through your walls. Leon couldn't deny that he was a bit jealous of how his pistol was able to feel your wet walls clenching around it rather than himself.
“Shit, you're taking it better than I thought,” He grumbled under his breath, thrusting the metal into you, attempting to push it even deeper to find your sweet spot. Leon finally moved his hands from your eyes and placed his hand on your waist, extending his thumb to rub circles over your stomach. He twists the gun inside you, flushing against your prostate. The sudden jolt of pleasure caused you to cry out and reach to grab his shoulders.
He pushed against your prostate a few times, observing how your eyes would water with each thrust and how your teeth would bite down even harder on your bottom lip the more he hit that specific spot. He slowly pulled the gun fully out with a small pop.
“Didn't know that would work,” He joked lightly, slotting the gun between your legs once more and squeezing your thighs together. He threw the gun from one hand into the other, gripping the pistol in his left hand. Leon slid his ring and middle finger alongside your ass, dipping down the curve to meet your already stretched hole. He dipped his fingers inside, already burying his fingers up to his knuckles.
He pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling his fingers up to press against the deepest parts of you. Leon dragged the gun back and forth between your thighs, letting you hump the metal like a dog.
“Attaboy,” he chuckled darkly, moving his fingers faster, practically slapping his palm against your tail bone as he fingered you from behind. Pre-cum started to bead off your slit and smeared all over Leon's gun.
“You're already getting so wet,” he shook his head, feigning disappointment as he moved the gun to trace your tip, ghosting over your skin.
You whined and thrashed from the ticklish sensation, but when you tried to lean away from it, you ended up pushing up against Leon's fingers, letting them reach even deeper.
“Leon,” you mewl, gripping his shoulders desperately as your dick twitches feverishly. “'M gonna cum.”
Your soft whimpers undoubtedly got his dick hard and he swore if you kept up with the whining he'd really just take off his pants and fuck the life out of you. Leon didn't respond, he just swallowed a groan and curled his fingers to your prostate.
Feeling that familiar spark in your veins, your body convulsed and you let out a high-pitched moan, blanking out as you shot ropes of cum out, dirtying Leon's gun with white.
“I got you, I got you, don't worry,” He felt your legs give out and quickly caught you, letting you lean on him while you came down from your high. Leon pulled the gun from your legs, turning it side to side and watching as your semen dripped down the sides.
⭐️part twelve of the understanding consciousness & non dualism series
hi cuties. this is the last post of the understanding consciousness and non dualism series and i want to say thank you so much for everyone that supported me. im happy that my posts helped ppl understand this concept better. the aim of the series was to break down the topics so that it can be easier to comprehend even though its so simple but the ego makes it seem harder (as you can already assume).
by now you understand that your real and only identity is consciousness / awareness / the observer / the source / imagination and everything is consciousness ("your" phone, "your" mother) which appear as separate and different forms even though its all the same thing, you. nothing is real and everything is imaginary. imagining something is the same as having it in the "physical world" bc there is no "physical world" bc there is no separation bc everything is just consciousness. nothing is real but things exist when you become aware of them (example: these words can never be real but they exist bc you are aware of it). this human body and thoughts/ego is not the real you, real identity. its not real its just appearing as something else. consciousness is the only reality so reality is everywhere bc consciousness is everything. desires arent real bc the moment you become aware of something, it exists instantly, youve experienced it instantly. "desires" are you. you dont create anything, you are everything. forms of consciousness just appear as separate but arent. even the 5 senses arent real and are limited to the power you are (consciousness). as the observer, you observe everything (in the unreal physical and in imagination).
the point of non dualism is to realize your true self (consciousness) and be free from suffering in this "life" that you think is real. remove and be free from all concepts and beliefs and the past. they are not real and never will be. once you understand non dualism, there is no suffering or pain or no issue. you cannot take things seriously bc you know none of this is real in the first place. personally, i think the point of "life" is to realize your true nature and enjoy life and peace with whatever ego desires. if ego desires being a rockstar or having piercings or getting free money, then thats what it is. the point is to experience whatever ego wants to experience.
all this is just a game.
you are the game character (human being), you are the game's plot, you are the producers of the game, the one playing the game, the game console, the game itself, everything. and this game is all imaginary.
be present and enjoy everything bc its all you. ego desires something? be that desire and imagine it.
none of this shit is real so i can and will treat myself how ego wants to be treated in imagination since its no difference if its in imagination or in the "physical" bc both are imagination either way. ego wants to go to the beach? in imagination i will go to the beach and enjoy every second. you see how free it is to imagine whatever knowing that imagination is everything and everywhere? its unlimited. you are unlimited.
how to play a new game:
imagine the "desire"
done. it exists and i experienced it instantly.
the 5 senses are not real as said before and the "physical" is the same as whatever you imagine. if you depend on the unreal "physical world" then you are limiting yourself to the body's unreal senses. what powerful being would limit themselves to an unreal thing?
whatever ego wants, i will be bc thats the game and rules i chose. there is no such thing as something against me or restrictions or oppositions or something that is making it "hard". everything is unreal and is me (consciousness) either way. you dont have power, you are power.
realize you already are whatever ego desires. you are already living in imagination and you always will be. experience whatever it is you want to experience.
It’s been a long time since I’ve made a dedicated post for doll hair styling, and my methods/product recs have changed quite a bit so I figured I’d provide another one! I’ve been using my current methods for several years now, so I can confidently recommend all of them!
I’ve been styling doll hair since I was in…well idk elementary school, and while I’m probably not the BEST out there, I know what I’m doing and I hope my experiences will help some people because I’m incredibly passionate about doll hair lol.
This is what works for me, doesn’t mean it’s the end-all-be-all of doll styling!
I get asked pretty often and rather than making a new post every time, I figured I’d make something more permanent that I can link to. <3
Let’s start with heat styling! I’ll make a post about products and tools as well, one about curls, and one about bangs because this post is already massive.
Some of this information will probably be really obvious to some of you but hey…you can never be too thorough lol.
older bf!toji eating you out to help you relax from studying (but he gas a tongue peircing)
"fuck ngh toji calm down" you had one hand tangled in his hair and the other gripping the sheets, writhing in pleasure as his tongue plunged into your folds again and again, the metal peircing making it even more pleasurable
"just let me help you baby" he coos darting his eyes up from your glistening folds to to look at you before going back to focusing on eating you out like the good boyfriend he is, i mean you were under the pressure of studying for you finals and he just wanted to help you calm down
and what better way to help you calm down than twirling your sensitive bud with the cold metal of his new piercing he's been dying to try on you, he was hoping you'd finally stop being so stuck up and just let him do this
"toji please i have to study" you whine trying to pull yourself back from him but toji just brings you tight back down to situate his mouth back in between your legs "stay down" he sternly says, wrapping one of his hands around your thighs to keep you there while the other came to play with you puffy clit, toying with it sent waves of euphoria through your body
it had you gripping and tugging his hair even more, now going from wanting to go back to studying to wanting toji to keep fucking you with his mouth "tastes so fucking good" he mutters to himself taking his hand on your thighs off to hold your hand
"you like that" he smirks, you couldn't even respond well enough "you better reply or im gonna stop" he said and that immediately shot words out of your mouth faster than you could think, moaning out a shaky "tes toji" before going back to playing with his hair
your hips were bucking upwards, you were close to cumming and he knew "you promise to take a break after this" he lifted his head to look at your glistening eyes, replacing his mouth with his hand, sliding in three of his calloused and rough fingers to plunge in and out of you "yes i promise i promise please just let me cum" you whimpered
you were matching the pace of his hand with your hips, toji dropping back down to kiss and lick all over your leaking cunt before you finally came all over his mouth, and toji had no problem cleaning it all up with his mouth, making sure to tease you a little more with that piercing, watching you shiver from the overstimulation
