dorkszn

[dorkszn]

they unleashed the Freakerine

[dorkszn]

reminded me of my bf 💔

asshole toji who says he’s too big for condoms <3

“i swear it’s still in here,” you huff, leaning halfway off the bed to rummage through your nightstand for the box of rubbers you bought on a whim last month. 

warm, thick hands rub up and down your naked torso, sliding up to play with your breasts from where you sit straddling his lap. you can barely see in front of you with how strong the need in your core burns.

a quick search through another drawer blesses you with your prize, the blue box just out of view underneath a ball of old reciepts.

“here, quick,” you sigh, handing him the item before clambering off the bed to shuck the rest of your clothes off. it had been a long time since you'd hooked up with someone, embarrassing as that was. sex had been the one and only thing on your mind from the moment you’d met this man at the bar. 

the near-stranger shakes his head fondly, turning the box of rubbers over a couple times like some sort of alien artifact.

“i only wear XLs, sugar,” he laughs, tossing back the pathetic box of rubbers. the exasperation in his voice feels like a punch to the chest. like he simply can’t believe you’d ever assume he would fit into anything less than the largest size. 

you disregard the thought, attention snapping back to toji slyly palming himself against your bedframe. scar stretched wide around smiling lips.

“you gonna come over here?”

you’re humiliated at how fast you scurry back into his lap.

˚ ✧ ─────

you almost don’t believe him until he unravels the latex onto his length, seeing it fall about 3 inches short of the base. 

okay.. wow. so he was too big.

toji lazily toys with himself atop your sheets. long, hard, and flushed red from base to tip. 

he’s nearly bursting out of the thin material, stretching it so tight and so thin that the milky latex almost looks like it’s melting into his skin.

the older man shucks the rubber off with a chuckle that says “i told you so.” he pulls you closer to him by the small of your back, fist reaching down to pump his newly freed length.

“i’ll pull out, you think i won’t?” he promises, voice barely a whisper. you don’t have to take in the smirk gracing the corner of his mouth to know he’s lying.

[dorkszn]

yall really get up at 7am and reblog porn

[dorkszn]

THREE, TWO, RUN. ft. Peter Dunbar

♡ SUMMARY: After fleeing from your boyfriend, it isn’t long before the two of you reunite, against your will or with it.

♡ CONTENT WARNINGS: pwp, afab, fem!reader, ex-boyfriend!peter x reader, peter being a serial killer, moderate description of gore, NONCON/DUBCON, fingering, oral (fem receiving), big dick peter—not great prep, p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking kink, fear play, predator/prey dynamics, size kink, bondage

♡ WORD COUNT: 2.4k plot, 1.9k smut. 4.3k total

♡ STREAM NOTE: SMUT BELOW THE SECOND NSFW BANNER. this is a spin off from my @peachedtvs blog called 'Til Death Dont We Part'

♡ MASTERLIST. cumming soon! Main blog @peachedtv

Peter felt you were quite silly, even from when his eyes first laid upon you through the windows of your diner.

So silly, in so many ways.

You were silly in the way you spoke. Expressive, lively, words filled with kindness and rhythm. Words Peter wanted to lock away for only him to hear. Your voice always melted into his mind like honey. Soothing, calming, just like the music he’d hum to silently as he got rid of your recent obstacles. A heavy saw in his hand slashing back and forth, splitting bone into two before stuffing remains of human flesh into a black tarpe—or when he'd bring the nuisances back alive. Screams of pain, terror, and torment vastly contrasting a smooth melody muffled through his earbuds.

Your smile was silly too. Loud, boisterous laughs pairing with it each time as you’d close your eyes tightly, breaths jagged as you’d brace your stomach from the joy. Your smile so mesmerizing Peter wanted nothing more to lock it away behind a key. To melt away in the melody of your laughter, to spread it across his lips and adorn the smile as sweetly as you do.

What was even sillier was how silly you made him feel. On the surface, the twist in his stomach was sweet. An admiration, an appreciation of something so pure. Although,

Peter always fell apart.

Even in the room of his own heart.

Every silly thing had something inside of him twist. A strange twist, a bubbling feeling that had his gut wrench around itself—curling around and laying discomfort deep into his heart, where it stood mockingly. Unable to be buried beneath other thoughts, placed behind distractions, or replaced with another. And this bothered him.

Peter was always in control.

Control of his job, control of his victims, the police, his therapy, the growing police patrols in your city. So why couldn’t he control this?

What were you doing to him?

He thought it was uncomfortable at first. But that strange feeling was quite addicting, stacking tenfolds in intensity ever since the first time he felt it with you.

“Are you okay?”

By now, this memory had occurred over 3 years ago.

The first day you two had met, Peter was not in a good mental space. His family was in ruins, the relationship between he and his mother deteriorating until he had finally decided to storm out of the house and leave for good. Leave his home for good.

With nowhere to go, and a rumbling stomach, Peter decided the best course of action was to first fuel his appetite. Damn Diner was loud, painstakingly so. There was a mess of voices, the clash of plates, cutlery, dragging of chairs against tilted floors, chaos that hummed against a muffled out melody of tunes through the ceiling speakers. Everything was so loud. There was a child in the booth next to his. A mess of ketchup and mustard spraying everywhere, a glob falling onto his cheek as his eyebrows knit together in annoyance. There was a couple in the booth across, arguing over the cries of their child whining for a crumb of their attention. There was yelling from the kitchen, scolding as a worker had done something wrong and sent an order to the incorrect table.

And then, there was you.

Timidly, you rushed over to his table. Clumsy and expressive as you stared down to him with empathy, apologizing profusely as you explained the mess around the diner. And there, all the loudness stopped. Your voice muffled, muffled until it became strikingly clear and the diner around him seem to slow. Peter's eyes traced your face, how you were out of breath, how kindly you looked to him, how you asked if he was okay. And in this world of distain, you were pure.

And there was the first twist.

Peter spent nights going crazy.

Absolutely insane.

When he had first broken into your apartment, his heavy steps drowned out by the moans of your roommate through the paper thin walls, he thought he would melt into the floor when he first inhaled the scent of you room.

It was a soft aroma, something that had his eyes rolling into the back of his skull when he saw you laying peacefully on the bed. Your head was smushed between a folded pillow, covering your ears as your face was scrunched in discomfort.

"Lucy's being so loud tonight, isn't she, Darling?" Peter spoke softly, the back of his hand gracing your cheek as he sat on the edge of your bed. Careful to dip your mattress slowly so as to not wake you. Carefully, his other hand trailed up the curve of your torso, hip to waist, before entangling with your fingers.

Your hand felt right in his.

Soft, smooth, and warm against his cold skin. And there, he knew even fate was in his hands the moment he had yours in his.

When Peter had mustered up the courage to approach you in the park, he felt his heart beating out his chest, his mind going hazy from everything he wanted to do to you—from hearing your voice up close again. It had been nearly a year since you two had first met at the diner, and it seemed as though you had forgotten him completely. Luckily, Peter knew enough about you through his year of...supervision, and was soon able to swipe you off your feet. There, he became yours.

Your boyfriend.

And you, his girlfriend.

Often the two of you shared late nights after your dates. The hum of cicadas drumming into the background as you'd lay into the grass of the park the two of you 'first' met in. Your hands would intertwine together as the other would hold the grass below. In this park, the two of you would often talk about your dreams, aspirations, or talk shit about whatever seemed to bother you in your life at the moment. And Peter always listened.

In other moments, the two of you enjoyed each other's company. A silence paired with the ambience of howling wind, crickets, and a glint in your eye from the reflection of the moonlight and stars twinkling above. And through this silence, your heart spilled.

“I want to be with you forever, Peter." You spoke softly, you eyes still stuck on the starlight above.

A twist, something twisted once more.

For the first time, Peter eyes looked away from you—a blush traveling to his cheeks, a pale red hue over his soft features.

“Forever, then, Darling."

And forever meant forever.

Years together flew by, and you both had your own jobs—despite Peter's insistence for you to stay at home and allow him to care for you. Although, you wanted to work. You wanted to experience the world. But what you didn’t want were the unreasonable hours of overtime your boss had subjected to you. Much to Peter's dismay, many late afternoons he would return to an empty home. Full of furniture, light, decoration, but never with the person he truly wished the presence of. Every evening, you would trail home hours after him. Enervated, dragging your feet along the floorboards as you slumped into his open arms.

“I missed you, Peter.”

Your voice was like honey.

“I missed you more, Darling.” Peter greeted you softly. There it was again. Something twisted. Peter looked down to your visage. Dark eyebags staining your soft skin, a pout dragging your lips, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you sighed from exhaustion. His gut was twisting stranger than usual. A mix of annoyance for those who have exploited you, an annoyance that made his stomach curl inside.

Peter did not want you to continue working.

Your boss had gone missing for a couple days now.

The company was in disarray, having strangely lost employee after employee ever since you were recruited. The once bustling, lively atmosphere became quiet, dull, and empty. And with the new loss of your employer, there wasn’t an office cubicle you could return to. For the first time in months, you returned home before Peter.

Although, something felt off.

With Peter home, it was always lively. The ambiance of bustling trees against the wind outside, a hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen, a low vibrato of your home's ventilation system, and the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. He was such a soothing soul. Without him, the home felt strange. You felt the presence of another, many, an overbearing amount. As though invisible strings clumped together to weigh you heavier into the floor boards, creaking the dark oak louder than usual.

Without Peter, it felt as though something was calling for you—and curiously, you began to explore. Exploring the home you resided in, as this home empty of your lover didn’t feel like a home anymore. And that lead you to the door that stood at the far end of the first floor. Tucked beside the laundry room, you stood still and seemed confused.

Was there always a lock?

A sturdy lock it was. Heavy metal weighing it flush against the wood, holding the door firmly shut to keep everything in out. There was a strange smell, too. A scent that leaked from beneath the dark oak doorway, filling the air with a musk of cooper and spoiled eggs. Your hand reached for the lock, flinching when built up static pricked your skin. A warning. But you held firm. Giving a cautious, downward tug as the lock went slack. It was open. You pushed the door back slowly, a low creak humming your presence, a flood of a strange meat stinging the view in your eyes.

Firmly, a familiar hand held your shoulder.

The hand of your boyfriend.

You were terrified.

“Darling, what are you doing?”

You couldn’t think.

Not with the view of mangled flesh, the smell of copper and iron so strong your head began to haze strangely. No, you couldn’t think. Even more so with scattered limbs decorating the floor—being the remainder of the morbidly intact heads of your former colleges and employer, of your missing boss. Pieces of them did not fit like a puzzle. Limbs, skin, so much of their bodies were missing.

What was that dinner Peter served these passing evenings?

And it seemed as though fate enjoyed sparking your memory.

This time around, nearly three years later, it was not scatttered corpses, blood, or flies that greeted you. You stood before the door of the fourth apartment complex you were going to apply to. Advertised as a gated community of safety, an exorbitant lot you were willing to hack up the money for to get away from him.

Although, just as three years ago, just as you were able to arrive to the complex, nails dug into your shoulder, holding you in place. A voice low, strange, and terrifyingly familiar. The grip dug into your flesh this time, keeping you from running—just as you did in the home you shared with him. With a door you shouldn’t have opened, and a hand on your shoulder that felt larger than usual.

Your boyfriend's hand.

“I missed you, my Darling.”

You didn't know what was happening.

You scrambled fruitlessly, trying to shove Peter's hand off your shoulder when a burning wet rag was drowned upon your lower face. You kicked, muffled screams and sobs as you dug into the palm that pinched the bridge of your nose, your body growing increasingly more limp. You didn't know what was happening, but by the next moment, it seemed as though you were melting into the floor—the world around you sputtering and glitching as your vision faded out and back in as you fell back onto a large bed.

You couldn't recognize the monster that was before you.

You didn't want to recognize the monster that was before you. Although, a rough, large hand gripped the lower half of your face, covering your mouth and pinning you down into the plush duvet to muffle horrified screams, forcing you to look deep into a being empty of a soul.

Even back then, you always felt Peter’s deep eyes had an errie glint. They seemed dull, strange, and detached from any wonder or interest. All until his gaze would flit upon you. A spark of light dashing his iris, a soft smile spreading his lips. He only looked human when he looked at you.

Peter still kept that smile. A smile that had morphed after his descent into maddness. Sharp teeth and bloodshot eyes that contrasted against sharp blues. He looked terrifying. His forearms were scattered with scars and wounds, peeled back scabs across his skin—likely from the amount of struggling you had done while in his arms. Your name was etched into his skin. Over and over and over, hearts and sharp lines littered as keloids formed in the place of his artwork. His size dwarfed you, a wolf to rabbit. Predator to prey.

“Pe—“

"You remember the time when you'd say it back, don't you, Darling?" He leaned down by your neck, breathing in shakily as though he couldn't believe you were finally here. With him. All to himself. "When you would say you missed me too." His voice was disfigured. A mix of insanity and dark undertone to his speech making your head spin and eyes well with tears. Your entire body was trembling, the skin on your back burning as every nerve in your brain set off sirens that resonated throughout your head. You felt too fearful to even choke out a pathetic sob, wanting to blend into the sheets below you.

Meanwhile, Peter felt himself going crazy. He couldn't help the way his mind ran a mile a minute as he stared down at your dicheviled form. You were always so pretty, absurdly so. Even as the strands of your hair fell misplaced over your face, even as you looked up to him with so much fear, hatred, and terror, his stomach twisted just as it did three years ago. That strange feeling laying addiction down into the lining of his stomach, soothing his body that felt run dry of how you made him feel.

He needed you. Now.

Peter brought a hand to his lips, hastily removing his right glove as he bit the fabric covering the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off by his teeth. His free hand pinned you pliantly down into the mattress by the lower half of your face, the other sliding beneath your shirt to tear the fabric off your body. You thrashed, muffled sobs and tears running down your cheeks, wetting the palm of his hand.

Your terror only fueled him further.

His hands groped and fondled every inch of your skin that one could imagine, a long tongue pairing with his touch as Peter licked a long stripe up your neck—sucking deep blotches and bruises of dark blue and purple hues across your neck and chest. Peter marked you as his, bit your flesh like a meal, and ruined your soft skin for his pleasure.

The mattress beneath you was in shambles. Inch deep tears lay by your head as Peter held back the urge to squeeze you blue, from ripping into your flesh, the torn mattress a goreish display of holding back the brutal cuteness aggression Peter got from the sight of you.

His hand slid from your mouth, gripping your neck tightly to restrict precious air from flooding your throat. He wanted you ditzy anyway. Nothing but a lifeless shell of who you were once he was done.

Pilant.

Obidient.

And what better way than halfway choking you out?

Your hands held his wrist desparately, nails scratching into his skin as he only smiled wider in response, stitches appearing on the corners of his mouth to prevent his face from ripping in two from his pure display of euphoria.

You hadn't stopped crying this entire time. Desparate pleas falling on deaf ears as you begged Peter that this was enough, that you'd listen, that you'd stay. And as convincing as it seemed, Peter was not giving you another chance to escape him. Not again.

His hand trailed down until it cupped your clothed cunt. Nothing on your body remaining besides your panties. A gift, perhaps—the best for last. Peter pushed your panties to the side, experimentally swirling the pad of his thumb onto your clit, causing you to wretch out a struggled moan.

"P-Peter—!" He only smiled in response.

"You've always been so sensitive, huh? It seems you haven't changed at all." His thumb pressed harder onto your cunt, rubbing your clit side to side as the palm of his hand pressed firmly down upon your womb. He watched you fall apart with glee, sliding his other hands between your thighs and gently nudging a finger inside of you. You threw your headback into the sheets, grabbing the duvet desperately, your hips trembling as you felt your sanity waste away to the pleasure wracked into your body.

You always fell apart so prettily.

Your hand shakily reached out to Peter, your lips quivering as a second finger curled into your cunt—the heel of his hand hitting the underside of your puffy clit as he kept toying with the bud. It burned, terribly so. Considering how much larger his stature was to yours, how much larger his finger would be to your own, it was a miracle you weren’t ripped in half yet. Although, it sure felt as though you were.

Peter stretched you out relentlessly, scissoring inside of you before curling the pads of his fingers plush against your g-spot. You arched your back desperately, crying out as your hips stuttered in response. And Peter kept prying there. His fingers pounding into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over and over until you felt as though you'd die from the overstimulation. As you reached out to Peter, he pulled a length of manila rope from his back pocket—grabbing your wrists before tying your hands together and in front of your chest as through you were praying—and perhaps you were. Praying to Peter to slow down, to be more gentle.

A third finger was nudged deep inside of you, pairing with the speed of his thumb on your clit increasing. His fingers pounded into you feverishly, sounds of your arousal soaking your inner thighs and his forearm—dirtying the sleeve of his pinstriped coat. You couldn't concentrate, no longer resisting against the firm hold his shadows had upon your wrists. No longer holding back your sweet moans.

A burning desire began to pool in your gut.

"Peter, p-please—"

A hand gripped your throat.

"P-Peter, please— I'm gonna cu—m!" He smiled to you. You were always so easy to please.

"Cum then, dear." His fingers sped up their speed inside your cunt, recklessly pounding and curling into you, bruising your g-spot painfully as you sobbed out, clenching your pussy around his cock as you squirt onto him. Peter smiled, leaning down to suck your clit and swirl his tongue around the bud as your mouth opened silently. Your hips struggled away, and yet his shoulders spread your knees firmly, the underside of your thighs thrown over them. Peter continued to bully your pussy past your orgasm, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers continued to curl and pound into you to ride out your high. You were crying endlessly. Begging him to stop, that it was enough. And yet, he didn't pull out his hand until you were merely twitching and whimpering in his bed. Broken.

"Have you lost yourself in the pleasure, Darling?" Peter was manic. Your pleasure felt like a high he couldn't describe. The way your fingers clenched around him, he felt as though it was a sign. A sign that all your struggling was only to encourage him to fight against you, a sign that you were only pretending to be scared.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Your eyes widened open when you felt the tip of his cock slide between your folds, Peter having removed his clothing now too. You struggled, trying to sit up when his hand once again held your throat warningly, choking you lightly against the mattress—gently enough that you could take slow, shallow breaths.

"Peter, it's not gonna fi—!" Your mouth fell open silently as Peter suddenly shoved the head of his cock inside of you. Your pool of arousal allowing him to slide in with just a minor amount of resistance—minor to his strength at least.

Meanwhile, your eyes blew wide as you whimpered out desperately, struggling against the binds on your wrists as your cunt stretched around him. He was big, painfully so. And you were thankful he decided to slide the remaining of his length in slowly, inch by inch. And yet, even when he was just halfway, you felt as though he was already plush against your cervix.

"Is she resisting, hmm? I guess I can be a little rough, you were always into that, anyways." Before you could understand what Peter meant, he slammed the remaining half of his length deep inside of you as you screamed out, your hands curling tight fists as your nails dug deep crescents into your palms.

Before you knew it, Peter pulled out to the tip, and slammed right back into you. His pace was unwavering. A hand gripped on your neck, the other pressing you into the mattress by a palm against your womb as he split you on his cock. Peter pounded into you, skin against skin as you soaked his cock, splashing your arousal onto his pelvis and lower stomach. He was big, too big. Tears streamed down your face, and Peter only wiped them with his thumb before licking it into his mouth. He wanted to taste your fear.

He wanted to rip you apart.

Your chest heaved as his thumb came down to your clit once more, roughly pressing onto you before swirling it harshly. You arched your back, clawing at the wrist on your throat as you moaned, crying around his cock when the underside of it would press into your g-spot, when the head of it would slam so deep against your cervix you felt he might fuck himself into your womb. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a hand gripping the torn sheets below you as you cried out when your pussy clentched around him.

"Please, please, can I c-cum—" You sobbed, looking down to where you and Peter where connected, seeing your cunt stretched impossibly wide for your ex-boyfriend's cock.

"Don't you dare."

"Please, Baby."

Fuck.

You drove him fucking crazy.

Peter swore he could’ve cum on the spot from hearing you finally call him baby once more, the name you neglected from him. The only name you should be calling him. Peter laughed.

"You truly know me so well, Darling." Peter's pace increased. His cock pounding into you hard enough to have your tits bouncing and the frame of the bed on the verge of giving out—your cunt clentching onto his fat cock even more.

"You can cum in three seconds." You nodded stupidly, too desparate to think.

Peter pulled back to the tip, slamming back inside.

"Three," His palm pressed into your womb, feeling the buldge of his dick against his hand, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. You swore you were going to die if you couldn't cum soon, Peter's counting teasingly slow as he fucked into you like a fleshlight. Like a pet.

"Two." Your pussy fluttered against him, Peter's fingers swirling your clit viciously.

"One," You whined, sliding your hands to his upper back as you raked down his skin.

"Please, please, please, let me cum." You were going crazy.

"Cum." You threw your head back, near screaming his name like a mantra as you clencthed around him, squirting for the second time that night as his cock continued to pound deep inside of you. Peter let go of your throat, his hands sliding beneath the underside of your thighs to push your knees into your chest—fucking you meanly in a harsh mating press as he refused to slow down. You felt like your soul was going to fall out your body, your pussy spasming as Peter continued to pound into you without any concern to your fresh orgasm and painful overstimulation that burned your walls.

"B-baby, Peter—please, I can'—"

And for the first time since three years ago, and for the first time together—Peter kissed you.

His kiss was soft, gentle, loving. His hips never stilled, continuing to rip orgasm after orgasm out of your poor little pussy. Although, his mouth was soft against yours, eyes closed and hand holding your neck lightly as the tips of his fingers graced your bruised skin. Bruised with the marks of his love, his obsession.

He held your face as kindly, as though you may be gone if he didn't keep you in his arms forever. Peter's tongue slid into your mouth slowly, and you moaned around him—letting him in. Your body missed him so much.

Maybe you still love him, even after it all.

Peter's pace became staggered, his hips slowing until he kept his cock deep inside and came directly into your womb. His load gushed out from the sides of your hole that stretched around him, stuffing you full. Peter allowed your thighs to rest by his hips, laying you back against the mattress as he continued to kiss you. His hands massaged your body, comforting the bites, hickeys, and bruises.

"I love you, Darling."

Peter spoke softly, pulling away from you. Admiring your fucked out state.

"So don't you leave me ever again."

You're watching...

© Studio Peached 2024

[dorkszn]

flowers for a little someone ♡ valentines special callahan ( detective oc ) x bttm m reader

NSFW⠀ⓘ⠀you're on house arrest but in his house , alastair (oc) mention , choking , degradation , phone call interruption , i wanted to make this freaky for valentines . . . so slightly cringey

Walking into his office on Valentines day was like if a mortuary celebrated Halloween; completely out of place for what they did. Red banners were haphazardly thrown over the walls and windows. The decorations had little to no cohesion, just oddly placed in the hopes it represented Valentines enough for people to notice and move on.

Callahan pushed through and ducked underneath ribbons and lace dangling from the ceiling to get to his office. It was a reserved space just for him—previously a small library room—in an attempt to persuade him to stay with the agency.

Sinking down on his slightly worn office chair, Callahan sighed, circling his temples with his index finger as he tried to soothe the oncoming headache. Seeing all the hearts and blindingly vibrant decorations made his head reel more than it already was. Red was a harsh, headache-inducing color, though he didn't particularly mind the soft pink elements of the cupid posters and occasional lace.

Before he could get up to brew himself a morning cup of black coffee, three sharp knocks were delivered to the door of his office. Callahan didn't even move and the man was already walking inside.

“Flowers for you sir,” A man with platinum dyed hair with a dark undercut and silver rimmed glasses chimed in with a bundle of roses in his right arm. He pushed his glasses up his nose bridge before striding over to Callahan's table and placing them down on the wood.

“From who...?” Callahan eyed the officer with a narrowed look.

“Not sure. A blonde lady if I saw correctly,” Alastair shrugged, reaching over to flip the card attached to the bouquet towards Callahan's prying eyes. It had a woman he's never heard the name of before neatly scribbled on it.

“Right,” Callahan curtly nodded, glaring down at the bunch of roses carefully placed together by a commissioned florist. The petals had a sultry red color, encased with black paper to deepen the natural tint of the flower. Tulips would've been better, or perhaps peonies in a gentle pastel.

“It's fitting,” Alastair smiles, “It's all dark and brooding—just like you.” He's waving his hands around like he's physically picturing and comparing Callahan with the roses. When he doesn't reply, Alastair flashes a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck as he speaks up for the silence, “No? Too much? Okay.” He backs up to the door and slips out without further conversation.

Callahan stares back down at the flowers; he had no use for it, though one thought stopped him from chucking the roses out into the trash.

Walking out of his office, he spotted Alastair again, casually chatting with a co-worker of his with a cup of milky coffee in his palms. With everyone in the building, Alastair was the one man who would drop his work in a futile attempt to impress his superior. And Callahan planned to use that.

“I'm taking my break early today, if anyone needs me, don't call; I won't pick up.”

Callahan had to brace himself for a second, pushing the door of his home open before scanning the open area for any signs of the little thief he had locked down in house arrest. He found you calmly nestled within the fortress of the pillows and blankets you'd pulled from his closets, on the couch with a cheesy 2000's Valentines movie playing.

He had to suppress the urge to call out 'I'm home,' since it was instinct to do so when someone else was home. You weren't meant to be his roommate let alone a friend. You were a criminal he'd swore to keep his eyes on.

His footsteps were heavy—a sign that he had come home if you couldn't hear the door unlock—as he loomed over the back of the couch, staring down at the crown of your head.

“Enjoy.” He tossed the bouquet of roses onto your blanketed lap carelessly, watching as you bring it up into your hands to get a better look at it. There's a strange feeling in his gut seeing you appreciate something he's brought home, like a cat hauling a dead rat onto its owner's porch. He'd only play it off as accomplishment to giving something a better use. Nothing more than that.

“It's pretty.” He can hear the smile in your voice and it pushes him to roll his eyes. “Thought you didn't like red roses though.” You tilt your head back to look at him, but you're met with narrowed eyes and a slight scowl to his face.

“I don't. That's why I gave them to you,” he scoffed, circling the couch before taking a seat a few pillows away from you.

“Why'd you come home so early?” You turn your attention away from the movie to him, gauging his reaction.

The question struck him like lightning, and his whole body tensed up. There was no other reason why he came home early than to give you the flowers, to see your facial expression change from the most insignificant gesture—in his eyes.

“You ask too many questions, brat,” He sighed, relaxing his body into the comfort of the couch as he spread his arms across the back, just shy of reaching you. His gaze is fixed straight before a slight rustling catches his attention.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see you look up at him, then back down to the roses, then back up again to flutter your eyelashes. His eyebrows knit together as he tries to decipher your looks before it dawns on him.

“Fuck, fine, I'll let it slide just 'cause its Valentines day.” He groans as he snatches the bouquet from your hands and treads toward his bedroom door, expecting you to follow him.

Callahan's got you laying flat on your stomach while he's standing on the edge of the bed between your parted legs. Both of your clothes discarded onto the floor, rumpled from the rough handling. He leans over your body to reach over the neglected bouquet to the side of you on his bed.

Callahan's fingers hook under the perfectly tied ribbon, undoing it with a simple movement. The flowers fall apart on his bed, scattering as the ribbon holding them together comes undone.

His palm slides under your chin, lifting your head up as he folds the red satin over your nape and around to the front column of your throat. His hands are surprisingly experienced with tying a bow, securing it just above your Adam's apple.

“This romantic enough for you?” He bites out, fingers curling along the ribbon at the back of your neck before he tugs at it. It strains against your neck, forcing your head to tilt back.

“You've got rose petals, a nice house to stay in, a pretty ribbon around your neck, and a fucking great guy to take care of you.” It's a sarcastic jab at himself, knowing how he's defying all his moral codes just for you—and it doesn't feel wrong at all.

He holds you there, observing how you just take it with no complaints, and that scarily turns him on more than he'd want to admit.

Callahan finally releases you, letting you catch your breath for about one good second before he's stuffing himself into you, sliding his thick ridge past that tight ring of muscle. He groans like he's restraining himself from liking it as his hand instinctively grips the ribbon—not pulling it yet.

He's holding you like he's gripping a saddle, and he plans to ride out his high for tonight.

He leans over your back just slightly to drag himself—even if just a centimetre more—deeper as he pushes until his own body slaps against yours. Callahan can feel you fluttering around him, stretching and adapting to his girth as he gently rocks himself forward to speed up the process.

When he assumes you've adapted enough, Callahan pulls out just enough that his tip is still keeping your hole stretched and open for him. He leans back to get a good view of your body connecting with his, gripping and groping the plush flesh of the back of your thighs before he spits on his dick and shoves it back into you.

The sudden intrusion has you yelping into the pillow, nails clawing at his pure white sheets, threatening to rake scratch marks all over them.

He pounds into you, the slick sound of lube and his spit mixing together while he's fucking an imprint into your walls. You feel every thick vein pulsing with need and it makes your legs tremble with each thrust.

“Don't act like you haven't been sleeping around like this before I caught you,” he grunted, giving you a sharp tug to the band around your neck. “But shit if those bastards aren't lucky,” you can't pick up what he's muttering under his breath from the obscene sound of wet slapping and creaking.

You'd protest if you're teeth weren't clamped down around the fluff of Callahan's pillow. The constant slide of his girth dragging along your walls makes you squirm like its ticklish.

Your neck is lightly throbbing from the pressure of the ribbon, but it's in a way that's sickly enjoyable. Not to mention your own cock is rubbing against Callahan's sheets, adding to the mind-numbing stimulation.

“You're quiet today. Where's that mouthy boy I know?” He says it as if he's gently cooing to a dog or a pet, but to you, its a sardonic mock. Callahan grips the satin like a rein, jerking your head up to let all those filthy noises spill from your lips.

His balls draw heavy with the burden of pleasure seeing you arched so much alike to a cat. One hand grips the spot where your waist meets you hips, and he digs his fingers deep enough for crescents to form. With the way you're whining out in esctasy, it tells him that he's found your prostate, and he's actively bumping it every time he thrusts.

There's a sharp vibrating sound that comes from Callahan's phone on the night stand and his screen lights up blue with the words 'Glasses police officer' on it. Callahan mentally curses out that son of a bitch, especially since he was explicit when asking him not to call.

“What?” He growls out into the phone, slotting it between his ear and a hiked up shoulder as he continues to roll his hips back and forth into you. He hears your whine and how you're turning your head to look back at him but he just pushes your face back down, not wanting to deal with your dejected look because he's diverting the tiniest bit of attention away from you.

“When are you coming back to work? You've got a few important paperwork you need to fill out,” Alastair's voice was like nails on a chalkboard right now, especially when that static sound coming from his phone was drowning out your cute moans.

“Do you think doing this will make me want to come back?”

“No... But sir I—”

Callahan's mind is pulled away from the phone call for a minute as he discries the small trembling of your torso, and how eagerly you're pushing back against him like you're trying to encourage him deeper.

“He's about to cum,” He voices his thoughts shamelessly to the officer on the other line, “I'm not coming back 'till tomorrow.”

There's an air of silence from Alastair's part before he speaks up with a flustered and almost out of breath voice, “He's– Who? What—?”

Before anymore questions were thrown at Callahan, he hangs up and tosses his phone to a random corner of the bed, turning his full attention to you. More so to the slight jolting movements you're doing and the breathless and elonged moan you're sobbing into the pillow.

“Jesus christ,” He draws out; the sharp shock of his orgasm comes without warning from watching you lose yourself, and he's overbrimming you with his pleasure. No matter how hard you're squirming or twitching, Callahan holds you down with his hands, pushing down at your neck and the base of your spine, keeping you still as he pumps his generation into you.

Callahan pushes his hair back as he lets out a content sigh—as content as he could physically make himself sound.

“Who was that?” Your voice was so small and hoarse it almost made Callahan feel bad for making you scream your lungs out. Almost.

“Just go to sleep, I don't need your jealous whining,” he huffed, carefully taking off the ribbon from your neck and absent-mindedly rubbing your neck to soothe the pain he inflicted out of instinct.

You held your tongue just so he wouldn't notice he was doing it.

a / n ; hopefully this wasn't too freaky . . . m'not good at hard-core stuff T T , divider credits –> @/roseraris

[dorkszn]

dork!reader fucking the entire football team in the locker room after they win their big game!

"can you take dick, pretty girl?" quarterback!gojo asked as his thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip. you looked up at all 5 of them— gojo, toji, sukuna, choso, geto—standing above you in their tall, towering frames over your smaller body which made your cunt clench pathetically around nothing. you still wore glasses with lenses that made your actual eyes twice as big, your teeth are covered in oversized braces which earned you the nickname "metal mouth" throughout the school, you still haven't gotten that acne under control from your earlier years, so what exactly made you special enough to get split open by the hottest guys in school?

their popular cheerleader girlfriends would totally want you dead for this, but you can't think about that once your bra is torn off of you, your skirt hiked up and your panties pushed to the side, and each of your holes are being filled with a throbbing cock. being athletes, they had an insane stamina that your school-lunch-fueled body couldn't keep up with, the locker room filled with the sound of gojo's hip snapping roughly against your plush ass as his cock fills your asshole, sukuna suckling your boob as you lay on top of him so he can fuck that wet little cunt, and the icky choking noises spilling from your throat as choso shoves his entire cock into your tight mouth. you can feel both of their dicks rubbing against each other—your perineum is only so thick :(

you can feel tears burning in your eyes as you struggle to fit his dick into your mouth as your nose is buried into his thick patch of pubic hair, your cheek bulges out in a cock shape as his thick, leaking tip hits the back of your throat. "mmmph!" you yelp around choso's pulsing shaft, feeling the burn in your skin from gojo curling his fingernails into the flesh of your ass, sukuna's tip kissing your cervix with each upward thrust. the others beat their dicks as they stand around you, leaking precum into your hair and onto your bare skin. sukuna's large, tattooed arms hug your lower back as he presses you down against him, making you feel so stuffed with his twitching cock, threatening to spill an entire load of his cum inside of you.

choso pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop, his stiff cock flinging up and slapping his abdomen as a line of spit connects your plump lips to his swollen tip. you cough, barely having time to catch your breath before toji's rough hand grips your face and forces it still so he can shove his own dick between your parted lips. you feel gojo pulling out as your tightest hole contracts, leaving sukuna's greedy dick all alone inside of you before geto takes his place, pressing the fat head of his cock into your abused anus before sinking in with a low groan. he sinks his cock deeply into your ass, his grown vibrating against your sweat-slick skin as he stretches you open even further.

sukuna, still buried inside of your slit, clicks his tongue as he feels your cunt fluttering around him. "tch. greedy little thing." he sneers, his fingers digging bruises into your cheeks as he slams harder up into you, forcing you to take him even deeper. choso watches, pumping his cock in slow, lazy strokes, your spit glistening along his length as his dark eyes drink in the depravity before him. "fuck, she looks good like this," he murmurs, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. "completely fucking used."

your body tightens at his words, pleasure sparking deep in your core as you feel sukuna's pace grow erratic. he's close, you can feel it in the way his thrusts lose rhythm, his cock throbbing inside your soaked cunt. "aaah, fuck." sukuna groans, moving one arm to press your head into the curve of his neck and shoulder. your body is a wreck, throat raw, holes stretched, your clit throbbing violently and neglected. toji keeps fucking your mouth without mercy, his thick cock bullying past the tight clutch of your throat, groaning as your gagging only makes him harder. tears spill down your cheeks, mixing with the spit dribbling down your chin—but he doesn't care, none of them do.

toji grips your hair, forcing you down until your nose is pressed against his pelvis, and with a deep, guttural groan, he cums. thick, hot spurts shoot down your throat, and you swallow instinctively, choking around his length as he holds you there, making sure you take every drop. sukuna isn't far behind. his grip on your hips tightens, a sharp growl escaping his lips as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you with his release. you shudder, walls fluttering around him, and that's all it takes for geto to snap-his hands grip your ass, slamming in deep before spilling his own load inside your tightest hole, groaning as he feels your body milk him dry.

choso strokes himself faster, watching your fucked-out body trembling, and with a deep grunt, he lets go-ropes of cum splattering across your face, dripping down your cheeks, your lips, your chin. you barely have time to breathe before sukuna pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks from your swollen pussy. "messy little slut," he hums, smirking as he drags two fingers through the sticky mix, pushing it back inside you just to watch you squirm. toji chuckles, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "think she can go again?"

gojo's still catching his breath as he grins lazily. "oh, she will."

[dorkszn]

he looks so proud of himself he knows he about to ruin this woman's entire relationship

[dorkszn]

imagine making logan and wade dress up as art and patrick and you’re dressed as duncan

[dorkszn]

YOU GET ME SO HIGH | TOJI FUSHIGURO

cw: age gap (toji is thirties reader is twenties and in college), stoner! reader, mentions of drugs, flirting, reader is called a kid (she’s an adult), no use of yn, backshots, semi public fucking, raw sex, p in v, dom sub, degradation

summary: where toji is your plug

p!link

The dingy gas station Toji works at hardly gets any customers at the time you show up. You like to pop in at the shift he takes, because you’re either in the middle of studying in your room and in need of a late night snack and an energy drink, or you can’t sleep and need someone to talk to.

Toji is very friendly with you. He’s quite gruff and to the point with the other customers that stroll in around the dead of night, because they’re usually creeps or frat boys from your college picking up condoms. He doesn’t like them because they have no respect. You’re very respectful, though. Always bouncing into his store with a sweet smile and a little gift for him.

You’re very crafty. Bringing him cookies you baked in your apartment, or paper flowers you learned to make using an online tutorial. He thinks you’re the cutest little princess ever.

When he asks why you make it for him, you just say that you wanted to brighten up his day. You know he works a few odd jobs and he’s raising a son, and you wanted to give him little things as a pick me up.

You’re the silver lining in his storm cloud, he tells you.

Toji hears you enter one cool winter evening when his store is completely empty. You come bouncing in with a big smile and your little earmuffs and coat and boots. You look so cute that he doesn’t even mind that you tracked snow and slush everywhere.

“Evenin’ little miss,” He drawls, leaning forward on the counter to watch you prance up to him. You come right up to the counter to stare up into his eyes. Yours are all big and doe-like and he swears they’ve always got this glassy look to them that makes them sparkle. You look like you could do no wrong.

It’s part of the reason why he feels so goddamn guilty giving you the sugary liquor you like from the fridges in the back or edibles or weed pens.

“Hiya Toji,” you chirp happily, coming to stand against the opposite side of the counter. “It’s so cold outside today, did you know? My fingers are all numb.” You wiggle your fingertips at him, pale from the lack of blood circulation, and he tuts. He likes to indulge you when you’re being fussy.

He takes them in his hands and lightly squeezes them and kisses the tips to get you warm.

“Where are your gloves, little lady? You walk all the way here and you can’t remember to bundle up?”

You whine at his scolding, and he laughs and tugs you towards him. “Such a baby.”

You giggle and lean in closer to him. He can smell the sweet perfume you wear and your body lotion. Fuck, you look and smell good enough to eat. But he can’t. You’re young and hes a loser single father with debts. You’re too good for him.

The thought makes him squeeze your hands a little tighter.

You squeak slightly, not wanting him to break your bones, and he apologizes gruffly. “ ‘M sorry lil lady. Just thinkin’ bout something.” He lets go of you so he doesn’t get carried away again.

“Brought anything nice for me this time?” He asks, tilting his head. To his disappointment, you pout and shake your head no.

“I was gonna make something special tonight, Toji,” You simper slightly. You’re giving him puppy eyes, so he knows you want something. A discount, or the stronger edibles, most likely.

“Yeah?” He humors you, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger, which makes you smile and bat your lashes at him. He groans. You have the sexiest mannerisms, and you don’t even know it. He feels like you put a spell on him every time you enter his damn shop. Messing with his head and you don’t even know it.

You lean your head into his hand, nodding. “Was gonna bake you cupcakes with special stuff inside it so you can come over sometime and we can have them and hang out! Thats fun, right?”

He leans back slightly, his eyes darkening as he watches you. He doesn’t really like that. How you suggest your first hangout with him would be when both of you are high. No. He’s supposed to take you to a pretty restaurant and spoil you, not… this.

“Weed cupcakes, huh?” he mutters, rubbing a scarred hand over his jaw. “Tch. That’s cute.”

You beam, clearly pleased with yourself. “Right? I thought it’d be fun! We can just chill at my place, get a little high, and—”

“Nah.” He cuts you off with a slow shake of his head, a frown still tugging at his lips. “I don’t think you should be usin’ that much, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kid, Toji,” You whine in a way that makes his heart and cock jump. He looks down at you through long lashes, watching the way your little hand curls around his thick forearm.

“Uh-huh,” he hums, shifting his weight against the counter. “And what happens when you take one bite too many, huh? Gonna cry to me about how you can’t feel your face and how loopy you are, lil’ girl? You needa cut back. Too much for you and your brain ain’t even fully formed yet.”

Your lips pout, and it’s so damn cute that Toji has to fight the urge to kiss you.

“Toji,” you whine, stepping closer, pressing your hand to the counter in front of him. “Come on. You’re overreacting. We’re just gonna hang out and have fun!”

“No. And I ain’t selling you no drugs anymore. It’s not good for you. You’re gonna fuck up everything and lose your chance at a nice degree and a flashy life.”

Your jaw slackens slightly. Where the hell is this coming from? He’s not selling you anything anymore? No one gives you the good prices he offers! Why is he doing this to you?

“Toji, don’t do this to me, this isn’t fair!” You whine, finally hopping over onto the other side of the counter now to press yourself against him.

His breath hitches “You’re really pushin’ it, sweetheart,” he mutters.

You just huff at him, tilting your head, fingers grabbing onto him tightly. “Pushing what, exactly?”

Toji’s eyes narrow slightly, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “This whole look at me, I’m so cute, let me get my way act,” he mocks, voice slow, drawling. “I know what you’re doin’.”

“I’m not doing anything,” You defend yourself firmly, leaning in closer. You feel like he’s denying you in multiple different ways and you don’t like it at all.

He steps back slightly and you follow him. He grunts, his head spinning from the scent of you and the way you’re so persistent and touchy with him. Didn’t your parents teach you not to be so trusting with older guys like him? You’re alone with him, and he could do anything to you. It seems like you’re either clueless or you don’t care.

“Please.” You whine, grabbing onto his shirt in little fists and twisting the fabric in your hands.

He scoffs and glares at you. His jaw tics, and his arms cross over one another so his muscles flex under the tight sleeves of his shirt, but you can feel the shift in his stance. Like hes starting to get pissed.

You don’t stop, though.

“Toji,” you mewl his name again, tilting your chin up, eyes big and pleading. “Come on… it’ll be fun. And you’ll be taking care of me! And we’ll be in my apartment, so it’s safe…”

His jaw clenches. His eyes flick down, watching the way your fingers dance along his stomach, over muscle, teasing at the edge of his shirt.

Toji grabs your wrists.

It’s not rough, but it’s firm. Like he’s giving you one last chance to back down.

Your breath stutters as he stares down at you, sharp eyes searching your pretty face. His grip tightens slightly, calloused fingers pressing against your skin.

“…You don’t get tired of this, do ya?” he mutters, voice hushed.

You blink up at him, lips parting. “Tired of what?”

You're not letting up, Toji notices. "Stubborn lil' girl. What do I get out of it, hm? Givin' you this shit for dirt cheap just 'cause you're pretty as sin. What am I gettin' outta this, hm?"

"Anything you want," You nuzzle his broad chest and stare up at him.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ⋆

Toji didn't know if you meant this when you said you'd do anything, but things had escalated and neither of you wanted to stop.

He has you bent over in the storage room with your tummy and tits pressed flat against the table. Your cheek is smushed against it too, your plump lips leaking a thin strip of drool onto the smooth wood.

You can’t stop the whines that spill from your lips as he shoves his cock deep inside you, strokes hard and rough enough to make your fat ass bounce with each thrust. "Ah, fuck... squeezin' me so tight, you lil brat," Toji groans, burying his head into your neck as he thrusts into you, panting at the way your walls clamp down on his long, thick cock.

"Thought you were so innocent, ma, comin' into my store with your ngh, fucking cookies and your flowers and givin' me fuckin' kisses on my cheek..." his words are brought with a rough slap to your ass. You keen, pussy creaming around him even more as you dig your nails into the table to keep yourself upright.

He's so deep inside of you, and his balls slapping against your swollen clit is starting to make your head swirl even more.

You can't tell if he's mad at you or not. He's fucking you like he is.

Toji's large hands grip your hips and guide them back against him with each thrust so you're fucking yourself on his dick. "Shit, kiddo. Throwin' that ass back like a fucking slut."

The table trembles underneath the two of you as Toji splits your poor little hole in half on his cock. Each thrust made spots appear in your vision as you mewl and tremble under him. He grabs your jaw from behind you and slides two thick fingers into your mouth.

"Atta girl, sweetness, use that tongue. fuckk..." He throbs inside you, watching the way your pussy sucks him back in every time he tries to pull back. You squeeze him like you were made for him. Makes him wanna put a baby in you.

You gasp when he drives forward hard, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes tears of pleasure spring to your eyes, and you suck on his fingers hard so you don't scream.

He keeps fucking his cock against that gummy, soft spot in you, angling his body so he can hit your g-spot over and over, and within seconds, you're creaming around his cock, a loud whine leaving your lips as your clear juices coat his thighs and cock.

He nearly cums on the spot at the way you make a mess on him like some silly mutt with no self control and how hard you clench down when you're cumming, but he has a little more self control and stamina than you. "Shit, feels s'good, princess, good girl, keep squeezin' me jus' like that,"

He grabs your hips hard with one hand and takes his fingers out of your mouth to grope at your tits, flicking your pebbled nipple and pinching it between the rough pads of his fingers.

"Anh, Toji!" You scream, " 'S too much, ngh," You wail and babble, overstimulated, but he just grunts and squeezes you tighter. He pulls on your nipple and pinches it lightly. "You can take it. Aint you the one tellin' me I can do whatever I want to you? Well I wanna fuck this pussy as much as I goddamn please."

He swats your ass again, hilting himself inside you repeatedly with each thrust not stopping until his heavy balls slap lewdly against your puffy clit.

Your pussy's swollen with overstimulation, and it's tightening up and is real sloppy around his cock. You're so wet he nearly slips out of you a few times. "Nasty little pussy you got, little girl," Toji says, pounding you like a fucktoy.

Toji's heavy cock plunges into your sopping pussy with each thrust, creating squelching sounds as your juices stir up against his in a mess. "Fuck, this pussy's gonna be the death of me, sweetness, grippin' me like a goddamn vice and soakin' my cock," He groans, throwing his head back. Your fucking pussy makes him crazy.

He stretches your poor puffy pussy to it's limits, driving desperate moans from you that grow louder the dumber he makes you. Thick strands of your cum cling to his cock as your walls ripple around him as he fucks into your overstuffed cunt, your puffy lips kissing his slicked cock. "Look at you. You wanted this so bad, didn’t you? Actin’ all sweet just to get your way. Hah...cute. Can barely handle me, princess. And you think you can handle all that weed? Hah. Fuckin’ adorable."

You whine as he pounds you, his cock filling your pussy and hitting the gummy barrier of your womb with every other thrust. "Mmf... y-yeah I can... To-toji," You slur. " 'M a big girl,"

He laughs and leans his front onto your back and hooks his arm around your neck, putting you in a headlock as he stands you upright and pounds into you.

The new position makes you scream, and makes you feel even more full. You can see the way your tummy plumps up around the outline of his big cock, stretching into your womb.

Your head lolls and he pushes down on your tummy. You cry out and cum again, and he groans and splurts inside of you, dumping heavy loads of cream inside your used pussy. "Fuckkk, that's right princess, milk my fuckin' cock... God, best pussy I had in a long ass time."

He nips on your ear as you sway and lean back on your chest, licking along the lobe and shoving you back on the table as he continues, fucking his cum back into you after stuffing you full and breeding you.

property of swanlakeoverture™ 2025. please do not copy, translate, repost on other sites, or share without permission

[dorkszn]

gojo x fem reader tags: strap on/pegging, bratty gojo, bodily fluids, language, 18+ minors dni, not proofread, first time posting a full length smut fic so this is possibly shit, might delete if I decide I hate it, but here it is for now

you can’t help but smirk, thumbs tracing along the soft dimples at the small of gojo’s back, adding pressure until he sinks further into a pretty arch, your boyfriends slutty little waist only further accentuated.

his whines echo throughout your room, so different from the usual moans that leave his lips when he’s the one railing you into the plush mattress.

“why’re you whimperin’ at me like that, babe? you’re the one who asked for this.” you slam your hips forward sharply, his ass rippling, lewd sound of flesh slapping reaching your ears, “or did you forget that already?”

gojo just babbles into his silk pillowcase, wet with a mix of his tears and drool, both leaking steadily down his face, “don’t- don’t stop.”

a laugh leaves your throat, head tipping back, “yeah? you like this? like being my little slut?”

your hand lifts above him, coming down sharply on his ass, pink handprint quickly appearing on the smooth, pale skin.

“such a good fucking boy, taking my strap like that for me.”

ignoring his pleas for more, you slip your hands to his cheeks, taking a thick handful of each, spreading them apart to watch the sparkly, baby blue strap, the one gojo insisted must match his eyes, going in and out of his puffy hole.

the rim is swollen, squeezing tight around the smooth silicone, pink and sloppy. it holds onto the dildo every time you pull out, trying to draw you back inside his needy ass.

“fuckkk, look at that.” you deliver a second, stinging spank to his flushing butt, “gonna have to do this more often”

gojo groans, throwing his hips back, meeting your thrusts, “roll- roll your hips up- fuck-“

your brows furrow, hands taking hold of his waist again, as you obey his request. on the next thrust, you angle your movements upwards, and the effect is immediately.

his arms collapse, cheek now fully smushed against the pillow, lips pouted out almost comically from the position. blue eyes roll back, a shuddering gasp leaving him from somewhere deep in his body, legs spasming under him.

your pussy is practically gushing onto the sheets below you, and you don’t even care that you aren’t getting any stimulation, not with such a pretty sight spread out below you.

you copy your last moment, harder this time, and his cock jumps between his legs, leaking steadily onto the sheets that are most definitely going to require a wash when you’re done.

when you speak, your voice takes on a teasing tone, head tilting as you peer down at him, eyes half lidded, “like this babe? is this what you wanted?”

he doesn’t answer with words this time, just emitting a strangled whine, hips halfheartedly rolling back against you, expression utterly fucked out.

you have half a mind to stop, to play dumb, to refuse to do anything until he uses his words, the way he’s tortured you countless times.

but how could you? it would be more of a punishment for you, after all, to miss out on those pretty sounds and expressions for even a second.

so you don’t, you just rub his hips gently, thrusts smoother now as you get used to the movement, cooing down softly at him, “you close bubs, gonna cum on my strap?”

he nods, head lolling limply with each move of his head, “uh huhhh…”

cute, your lips lift in a soft smile, somehow finding him endearing even with a cock up his pretty ass.

fingers slide down his body, down between his legs, gently wrapping around his blushing, pink cock, stroking in time with your thrusts, “c’mon, baby. what do you need?”

he finally manages to speak up, voice strained, sobbing out, “faster, faster please.”

you oblige, rocking your hips up quickly, and he keens, toes curling, tongue sliding out, a sound he didn’t even know he could make leaving his lips.

within seconds his cock is twitching in your hand, balls drawing up close to his body, ass tightening around you.

and he cums.

white spurts of his seed shoot out, soaking the sheets with strand after strand of his load, back arching, his legs now giving out too.

you don’t stop, fucking him through his orgasm, slowly stopping your thrusts as he comes down from his high.

when his breathing finally evens out, eyes fluttering open again, you gently slip your strap out of him, removing it from your hips so you can collapse beside him, pulling him into your arms.

“you okay, ‘toru? wasn’t too rough on you?”

he mumbles something out, nuzzling his face into your chest.

“what’s that?”

gojo sighs, melting further into you, “coulda gone harder. thought you said you were gonna fuck me dumb.”

your eyes widen, an incredulous laugh coming from you, “satoru, i thought you passed out for a second, it’s way too late to play it cool.”

he just shrugs, letting out a sigh, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“god, you’re a fucking brat…”

[dorkszn]

wreck me baby | dilf toji | mdni

“fuck, baby,” toji groans, gripping your waist as he lines himself up with your dripping cunt. “you sure you can take me?”

you whimper, already stretched from his fingers, but when you look down—fuck. he’s big. thick, heavy, flushed at the tip, and your stomach tightens at the sheer size of him.

he chuckles, watching your face, reading every little reaction. “what’s wrong? scared?” his voice is teasing, but there’s heat in his eyes, dark and hungry.

“shut up,” you mumble, but your breath stutters as he presses the tip against your entrance, barely pushing in.

“nah,” he smirks, gripping your jaw and making you look at him. “if you want me to stretch out this tiny pussy, you gotta ask real nice.”

your pride burns, but fuck, you need him.

“please, toji,” you whimper, shifting your hips, trying to take more of him.

his grip tightens, a low groan slipping from his lips. “that’s my girl.”

he thrusts in, slow, forcing you to feel every thick inch of him as he stretches you wide. the burn is deep, delicious, making your back arch as a broken moan spills from your lips.

“fuck,” he hisses, jaw clenching. “so tight, baby. squeezing me so good.”

your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he bottoms out, his cock pressing so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

he smirks, rubbing a palm over your lower belly. “you feel that, sweetheart?” he teases, pressing down just enough to make you whimper. “fuckin’ deep, huh?”

you nod weakly, already dizzy, and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your jaw, your neck, trailing lower as his hips start moving.

he fucks you slow at first, savoring the way you gasp every time he presses deep, but his patience doesn’t last long.

“shit, you’re taking me so well,” he growls, gripping your hips as he picks up the pace, slamming into you hard enough to make the bed creak. “stretching around me so fuckin’ pretty—this little pussy was made for me, huh?”

all you can do is moan, your body rocking with every thrust, pleasure building so fast it’s almost unbearable.

“t-toji—” you gasp, eyes rolling back.

“c’mon, baby,” he pants, reaching down to rub your clit in quick, tight circles. “gimme one more. wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

the pressure snaps, and you fall apart, pleasure crashing through you in waves, your walls clenching around him so tight he groans, hips stuttering.

“fuck—” he curses, slamming deep, holding you still as he spills inside you, filling you up with a low, shuddering groan.

he stays there for a second, panting against your skin, then pulls back to smirk down at you, his cum already leaking out, dripping onto the sheets.

“look at that,” he muses, running a thumb over your swollen cunt, pushing some of his release back inside. “made such a mess of you.”

his eyes flick up to yours, dark and teasing. “hope you got the energy for another round, baby.”

[dorkszn]

Ya like jaz 🐝

i understood the reference but will y’all slander me for never seeing the bee movie

[dorkszn]

can y’all give me some wally clark request (no spoilers for s2, I haven’t seen it yet)

[dorkszn]

[dorkszn]

since you sent an idea to me, i shall send one to you:

logan and bucky tag-teaming you. either bucky's in the back while logan's either going down on you, both muttering and cooing out praises at how well you're taking them, knowing that due to their stamina, you're probably oversensitive/overwhelmed in the best way by them

or logan's in the back and bucky's in front of you, pulling you forward to rest his forehead on yours, making eye contact while logan's going to town or he's touching you, eliciting whines and little gasps out of you

or logan makes you look at bucky/make direct eye contact as you're touching him

bonus points if either of them has their arm around your neck, or bucky's touching you with the cold metal arm, using it as an advantage to experiment with some temperature play🙏

(your 1940's bucky and logan tag-team post/comment has actually altered my brain, i think of them all the time now lmao)

also. idk if it'll play as a gif but one of my fav gifs of him:

it's the look down that gets me man

one of them is playing with your tits while the other is playing with your cunt 😔 both of them showering you with praise, hard cocks pressing against your back and belly but they won’t even acknowledge how hard they are until you’ve had at least two orgasms 😔

[dorkszn]

i don’t go here but that episode of euphoria where maddy is hugging rue and rue bends down with her hands clasped behind her back???? good GOD.

[dorkszn]

Mean Logan who needs the answer to a question ( you don't have the answer) and decides to ask while he's inside u. Won't move until u answer his question and you're just crying and begging him to move

this post is 18+, minors dni.

He's cruel for asking in the first place, but he's even worse for asking while he's got you sitting in his lap, his cock nestled snugly into your tightly-clenched hole. You're gripping him practically hard enough to bruise, your legs wound around his waist but tensed all the same as your cunt sucks him in. He's rocking you on his hips, bouncing you up and down as you wrap yourself around him, breathing heavily into his shoulder and muffling your moans into his flushed skin.

"You got an answer for me, sweetheart?" Logan asks, and he knows you can feel his vocal chords thrum where you're burrowed into his throat, nosing at his pulse like a vampire about to sink your teeth into him.

You don't so much respond as you do acknowledge, but the humming whine you release into the joint between his neck and his shoulder is distinctly negatory.

"C'mon, you don't know? Who's better, me or Cyclops?"

"That's- He's not- Scott's my friend." You insist, but your body ignites with shame just as much as it does pleasure at the memory of Logan walking in on you and Scott clumsily hooking up. You're not lying, you are friends with him, but sometimes friends get drunk and make poor decisions. Your friendship with Scott survives, but perhaps your pride dies here and now against Logan's queries.

"Oh, it's Scott, is it? That doesn't seem like something you'd be worried about stressing if you were just friends. Come on. I saw it all. He was pathetic. Couldn't even get his pants down right."

That's unfair, mostly because you and Scott were both wasted beyond belief. You're sure Scott could deliver a spectacular performance were he in possession of his fine motor skills, but as it was, his zipper had bested him. Admittedly, it was not your best lay.

"That's not fair." You whine, though whether you're referring to his rampant criticism of Scott or the way that he's interrogating you while you're speared on his cock is unknown even to you. It doesn't seem to matter to Logan, though, because he lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle, one that you feel against your face and your core simultaneously.

When he halts the movement of his hips, leaving your cunt buzzing with the need for the constant stimulation it had just been receiving, you think he meant everything to be rather unfair.

"Well, you'd better figure it out, honey, because you're not cumming until you give me an answer. I'll be here," He shifts his hips, nestling his cock just that much tighter into your hole, "-so you just pry your face out of my neck whenever you're ready to admit it."