sum-stuff13

[sum-stuff13]

— Telling Bf Toji that him still having his late wife’s last name makes you uncomfortable. (Angst with comfort)

You were quiet all evening. Toji noticed, of course but he didn’t press you about it. He trusts you’ll talk to him whenever you’re ready so he just let you curl up into his side while he watched the game, his heavy arm wrapped loosely around your waist, absently rubbing small circles over your shirt as a form of comforting you. But your mind wasn’t on the screen. Not even close.

You tried to shake the thought. You really tried.

It was dumb. So dumb. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself—Selfish, too. Why did it even matter? It was just a last name and it wasn’t like he could undo the past. He’d loved her once and that was okay. That wasn’t even what this was about.

But every time someone addressed you both as “Mr. and Ms. Fushiguro,” or when the idea of marriage came up—your marriage—you felt it like a pinch. A cold one, right under your ribs.

And it’s been festering so much lately so now you were in bed besides him, his broad chest rising and falling steadily—already drifting off to sleep but your heart was thudding loudly for a different reason.

You rolled over, pressed your face into his bare shoulder, and whispered, “Toji…?”

He grunted a little, not quite asleep yet but tired. “Mmm? What’s up, baby?”

Your lips tugged down. You hated how tight your throat was.

“I… wanna talk about something. But I don’t want you to think I’m being petty or… selfish”.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, looking up at you with that groggy but alert sort of concern. “You okay?” His voice was thick with sleep, but gentle. “What’s going on?”

You sat up a bit and toyed with the edge of the blanket, picking at a loose thread. “It’s about your last name”.

He raised a brow, sitting up with you. “My last name?”

You nodded slowly. “I know it’s stupid but sometimes I get sad thinking about…how you still have your late wife’s last name”.

Toji stayed quiet, watching you. His gaze never left your face.

“I know it’s not something you just think about every day and I know it’s not meant to hurt. I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. I just—” you paused, pressing your lips together. “It makes me feel weird. Like… like if we got married, I’d be taking her last name. I don’t want that. I don’t want her name. I want ours”.

You looked down, blinking hard. “It’s so dumb, I know. She passed and it was a long time ago, and I’m not trying to replace her or pretend she didn’t exist or whatever. I just… I don’t want to feel like I’m walking in her shoes. I want my own. I want ours. Together”.

There was a beat of silence. Your chest tightened like you expected him to sigh or say you were being sensitive or even just brush it off.

But instead, Toji reached out and cupped your cheek affectionately, gently guiding your face back to his.

“You listen to me,” he said lowly. “That’s not dumb. Not even a little bit”.

His thumb brushed over your cheek. “I kept the name ‘cause of Megumi. Not her. Not even really for me. When I left the Zenin clan, I didn’t want their name anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with ‘em. Her name was the only thing that felt safe back then. I thought it’d be better for Megumi too, growing up with a clean slate”.

He exhaled, his brow softening. “But that name doesn’t mean shit to me now. You hear me?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“I love you,” he said fondly. “And when we get married, I’ll change it to your last name, if that’s what you want. I’ll carry it proudly. Hell, I’ll even tattoo it on my damn chest if you want me to”.

You let out a watery laugh and Toji smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“That name—our name—it’s gonna mean something new. Something we build together. Not what came before. Just me and you”.

You sniffled and buried your face into his chest, clinging onto him with both arms while he wrapped you up tight.

“I love you,” you murmured against his skin.

“I love you too sweetheart. So much—We’ll go down to the courthouse next week and change it together, yeah?”

You nod against his shirt, heart swelling.

He rubs your back. “And when the time comes…I want us to both have the same last name like officially”.

You lift your head. “Like marriage?”

He smirks, brushing your nose with his. “Exactly like that”.

The next day…

Toji didn’t usually hesitate about much but this—it gave him pause.

He watched Megumi from the doorway, the kid sitting on the couch, legs crossed while flipping through some manga like always. The house was quiet, sunlight cutting through the blinds in soft stripes across the floor. You were in the bedroom napping. You’d cried a little earlier, relieved tears mostly but Toji knew it’d meant something big to you. Bigger than you’d let on at first.

So now, here he was. Scratching the back of his neck. Clearing his throat like a damn idiot.

Megumi glanced up. “What?”

Toji stepped in and sat down across from him, arms resting on his knees.

“I wanna talk to you about something”.

Megumi raised an eyebrow but didn’t put the book down. Typical. “Okay…”

“It’s about the last name,” Toji said.

That got his attention. The book closed and Megumi sat up straighter.

“I’ve been thinking about changing it,” Toji said, voice steady but serious. “Not back to Zenin. I meant…a new one”.

Megumi’s brows furrowed slightly, not in confusion but in that thoughtful, sharp way he’d picked up from Toji over the years. “Why?”

Toji leaned back on the couch, arm slung across the backrest. “When I left the clan, I didn’t want anything to do with ‘em. Didn’t want you growing up with that bullshit either. Your mom’s name… it felt like the cleanest choice. Safer—Not perfect, but better”.

Megumi nodded slowly, waiting.

Toji looked toward the hallway, where you were still sleeping. Then back at his son. “But now I’m with someone. Real serious about her, you know. We’ve talked about marriage and it bothers her, the name. Not ‘cause she’s jealous or weird about the past—just ‘cause she wants something that’s ours. Not a name that belongs to someone gone. Not a name that used to belong to a different life”.

Megumi was quiet, still processing what Toji was saying.

Toji rubbed his jaw. “So I told her I’d change it. When we get married, I’ll take her last name and start fresh”.

Megumi’s expression didn’t shift right away, but his shoulders relaxed a bit.

“I get it,” he finally said.

Toji blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Megumi shrugged. “I mean it’s just a name. I know who my mom was. You changing your last name doesn’t erase anything and if it makes her feel like she belongs more—like you guys are really starting something new then why not?”

Toji felt something tight in his chest ease a little. He didn’t say much but he nodded, looking at his son with a little more pride than usual.

“You’re a good kid, Megumi”.

Megumi scoffed, opening his book again with that same grumpy expression like usual. “I know”.

Toji smiled. “You want me to keep it until you’re grown?”

Megumi shook his head. “You can change it. I’ll still be me. You’ll still be my dad. It doesn’t matter what name’s on the mail”.

Toji chuckled, deep and low. “Smartass”.

“Old man”

Toji leaned back, relaxed now. The hardest part was over and when you woke up later, hair messy and eyes still sleepy, Toji would kiss your forehead and tell you: It’s all settled. He understands. We’re gonna make it ours now.

And it’ll feel like the first day of something brand new.

[sum-stuff13]

best friend’s dad! toji x roomate! reader

↳ ❝ [megumi is in his third year of college and has a new roomate! toji decides to help his son settle into his new home but can’t help the desire to settle into bed with his son’s bold roomate. ] ¡! ❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Toji Fushiguro stood at the center of the living room, arms crossed, brow raised, lips tugged down in mild irritation as he glanced around the new apartment. It was clean enough, open concept, lots of windows—though he didn’t trust half the locks. He’d already made a mental list of upgrades.

But that checklist flies out the window the moment he hears your voice behind him.

“Oh, damn.”

A light, teasing tone, like you didn’t mean to say it out loud. “You must be Megumi’s dad? He wasn’t lying—you’re fine as hell.”

Toji’s head turns sharply, and there you are.

Tiny shorts. A little top that had no business being so fitted. Hoops in your ears and a lazy, knowing smirk on your glossy lips. You have a tote bag slung over your shoulder and a box balanced in one arm, but your eyes are all on him.

And Megumi? Totally unfazed. “Don’t flirt with my dad.”

You just laugh. “I’m not flirting. I’m just saying thank you to your gene pool.”

Toji swallows thickly. Fuck.

“Roommate?” he asks, gruff. His voice drops a little too deep, reflexive. He tries to rein it back in, ignoring the way your eyes flick over his broad chest and thick forearms exposed under his tight black tee.

“That’s me,” you hum, offering your hand. “We’re gonna get real close this year. I can already tell.”

You hold the handshake a second too long. You press your fingers against his palm like you know exactly what you’re doing. And Toji, damn him, just watches you—eyes narrowing slightly, jaw twitching.

“Uh huh,” he grunts, forcing himself to pull away. “Well… try not to get too close. Kid’s gotta study.”

You tilt your head, pretending to pout. “Mmm. I’ll be good. Unless you come around more often. Then all bets are off.”

Megumi groans from behind you. “Can you not?”

Toji lets out a short laugh through his nose. “You’re bold, aren’t you?”

“Just honest. You work out, right? I mean… look at your arms.”

You bite your lip. Brazen.

Toji clears his throat. His skin prickles. “That so.”

“Yeah. And your voice? Real daddy-coded.”

Megumi literally throws a dish towel at your head. “I’m moving out. I’m done.”

You laugh and dodge it. “Kidding!”

Toji knows better. He knows not to feed into it. He’s not gonna embarrass his son. He’s not going to flirt with some pretty young thing who clearly enjoys pushing buttons.

But when you walk past him, brushing way too close and tossing over your shoulder, “See you soon, Toji,”—like you’re already on a first-name basis—he doesn’t look away.

In fact, he lets his eyes linger.

And he hates that you catch him doing it.

Toji’s on the floor under the kitchen sink, sleeves rolled up and tool bag beside him. He’s fixing the garbage disposal like he’s getting paid for it, low grunts escaping his throat every time he shifts his position. The hem of his shirt has ridden up, flashing cut obliques and thick ridges of muscle as he reaches deeper into the pipes.

You’re sitting on the counter, sipping iced coffee, feet kicking softly while you watch him—unapologetically.

“You ever not look hot?” you tease, swirling the straw between your fingers. “Or do you just wake up like this and decide to be a menace to women everywhere?”

Toji grunts. “You’re supposed to be helping your roommate.”

“I am,” you say sweetly. “Moral support.”

You hop down from the counter and crouch beside him—way too close. Your bare thigh brushes against his arm.

Toji stiffens.

You tilt your head, eyes flicking to the small glisten of sweat on his temple. “You hot?”

“I’m fine,” he mutters, still working. “Just a tight fit under here.”

“Mhm. Must be hard moving around with all that muscle,” you murmur, your hand resting lightly on his abdomen—just above the waistband of his gray sweats. You trail your fingers along one defined ridge, slow and deliberate. “These feel unreal.”

Toji’s body tenses like a live wire. “Don’t.”

You smirk. “Don’t what?”

“Touch me like that.”

You blink, all faux innocence. “Didn’t realize I was touching you like anything.”

He pulls himself out from under the sink, brushing past you to stand. He grabs the wrench off the counter, trying not to look irritated—or turned on. “Where’s Megumi?”

“Still at Home Depot. Said they didn’t have the light fixtures you wanted.”

You wait until his back is turned before stepping up behind him, slipping your fingers into the open pocket of his sweatpants.

He turns fast, his voice low. “What are you doing?”

You press a folded piece of paper deeper into the fabric and give him the boldest smile yet. “In case you ever wanna hang out… without the plumbing and the witnesses.”

Toji exhales through his nose, jaw clenching hard as he looks down at you—really looks at you this time. Your lip gloss. Your lashes. The confidence in your smirk like you know he’s tempted.

And he is.

But he doesn’t reach for you.

Just shakes his head once and mumbles, “You’re trouble.”

You step back, giving him space like you didn’t just graze your fingers along his V-line five seconds ago.

“I’m also free most nights,” you sing quietly, turning on your heel and walking down the hall.

Toji watches you go, eyes low and dark, the slip of paper warm in his pocket like it’s daring him to use it.

He knows he shouldn’t.

But god help him… he might.

Later that night, Toji’s in nothing but a pair of loose black sweats, sprawled on his leather couch, TV on but forgotten. The lights are low, city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.

And your number’s still sitting on the coffee table.

He hadn’t meant to keep it. Hell, he told himself he’d toss it the moment he got home. But instead of trashing it, he unfolded it slowly, stared at your handwriting—curvy and confident, like your mouth—and kept it.

He hated how curious he was.

He hated how your voice echoed in his head when it got too quiet: “You ever not look hot?” “These feel unreal.” “I’m also free most nights.”

The way you touched him so casually. Like you knew exactly how far you could push it before he’d snap.

Like you wanted him to snap.

Toji ran a hand down his face and grunted low.

He shouldn’t. You were his son’s roommate.

But you weren’t some clueless little girl. You were smart, cocky, self-assured. And clearly grown enough to know what you wanted. And worse—so good at making him think about it.

Toji stared at the phone in his hand.

Maybe she won’t even respond.

Maybe she gave him that number just to mess with him.

He cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, then finally let out a sigh and tapped your contact in.

This is Megumi’s dad.

You left something in my pocket earlier.

Not even ten seconds later, three typing dots appeared.

I was wondering when you’d use it.

You forget something else too? Like the way my hand felt on your abs?

Toji exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip tightening slightly on the phone.

You talk like that to all the dads, or am I special?

Another reply, quick and shameless:

Just the hot ones.

You coming back to fix anything else soon?

…Or should I break something to give you an excuse?

Toji chuckled under his breath.

She’s dangerous.

And he was already in deep.

His next message came slower, but deliberate.

You keep touching me like that, you’re the one that’s gonna break.

You sure you’re ready for that?

You left him on read for exactly 30 seconds.

Try me.

Toji leaned his head back against the couch, tongue in cheek, heart thumping a little harder than he liked to admit.

You were bored. Megumi was still out—something about a study group that would “probably turn into a late-night ramen run.”

You’re in bed, leg half-draped over your comforter, phone in hand. Scrolling Instagram. Your gloss is worn off, your pajama top is thin, and your shorts are barely hanging on. You switch apps, click open your texts, and your finger just so happens to land on Toji’s name.

The last message still lingers on screen:

You keep touching me like that, you’re the one that’s gonna break.

You smile.

And your thumb “accidentally” hits call.

Shit. You don’t hang up. He answers on the third ring.

His voice is rough, low, like you woke him—but he doesn’t sound mad.

“Didn’t expect you to actually call.”

You stretch a little, curling onto your side. “Mmm. Me either.”

Toji pauses. “You drunk?”

“No. Just bored. Couldn’t sleep.”

Another pause. Then a shift in his voice—cool, but sharp. “You call all your son’s friends’ dads when you’re bored?”

You giggle. “Only the hot, emotionally unavailable ones.”

“…Right.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice now.

You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “What are you doing right now?”

“To be honest?” he says. “Just got out the shower. Watching some old fight clips. Thinking about that little stunt you pulled earlier.”

You hum. “Which one? Me touching your abs? Or slipping my number in your pants?”

“Both.”

You bite your lip, your voice dipping soft. “I meant it, you know. About hanging out.”

“I know you did.”

Silence stretches—thick with heat.

Then he says it.

“Come over.”

Your heart jumps.

“You serious?”

“Dead serious,” he murmurs. “You’re not gonna sleep anyway. I’m up. You’re obviously thinking about me.”

You grin. “Maybe.”

“You got five seconds to say no.”

You stay quiet.

“…Three.”

You throw off your blanket, already reaching for your keys.

“I’m on my way.”

The elevator dings at the top floor, smooth and silent. You step out into the dimly lit hallway, heart beating fast but steady.

Once you’re in front of his door, you knock once.

The door swings open almost instantly.

Toji stands there—

low-slung black sweats hanging dangerously on his hips, nothing on top.

His hair’s damp from the shower, pushed back casually, and his body…

God.

Thick, veined arms. Chiseled chest. Deep abs cut with sharp ridges. A scar on his lower abdomen you want to trace with your tongue.

His eyes drag over you—slow, unapologetic. Linger at the tops of your thighs, then at the peek of cleavage showing under the top.

He doesn’t smile.

He just rasps, “Get in.”

You step inside without a word, and the door shuts behind you with a heavy click.

Silence.

Thick, electric.

You turn to face him, lips parting—about to make a joke, maybe something flirty again—but you don’t get the chance.

One step, one motion, and you’re backed into the wall—his massive hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your hip tight, like he’s been dying to finally touch you.

His voice is low, gravelly. “You really showed up in these fuckin’ shorts?”

You blink up at him, all heat and nerves and thrill. “Thought you liked them.”

He scoffs, chest rising. “I like a lotta things I shouldn’t.”

You lift your hand, fingers trailing up his abs slowly. “Then don’t be shy, Toji.”

He leans in and devours you.

Mouth rough on yours, one hand gripping your jaw, the other sliding down to grab your thigh and hook it around his waist. You moan into his mouth as your back hits the wall harder, his hips pinning you there. His tongue drags deep, claiming, his breath hot against your lips.

“You’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he growls, lips moving to your neck. “Walking around the apartment all innocent. Looking at me like you want me to fuck you stupid.”

You gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Maybe I do.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes—dark, dangerous, hungry.

“Say the word, baby. And I’ll give you everything you’ve been begging for with those fuckin’ eyes.”

You smile, biting your lip as you slide both arms around his neck and whisper:

“Then shut up and take me to your bedroom.”

He doesn’t take you to the bedroom right away.

Not because he doesn’t want to—but because the second you say those words, he loses the last thread of restraint. His hand wraps under your thigh tighter, the other bunching the back of your top in his fist as he lifts you effortlessly off the ground. Your legs wrap around his waist as he pins you to the wall again—grinding, deep and slow.

“You wanna get fucked like a brat, huh?” he growls, his mouth at your jaw, teeth dragging. “You wanna tease me for weeks and then come here dressed like this?”

You gasp, hands fisting his hair. “Yes.”

That’s all he needs.

He carries you across the dark apartment, mouth hot on your neck, teeth grazing your shoulder as he walks you down the hallway. Every step, he grinds your hips together, letting you feel what you’ve been doing to him all this time.

By the time he kicks the bedroom door open and drops you onto the mattress, your whole body is already throbbing.

Toji stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you like a man starved.

“Take that shit off.”

You obey slowly, your bare chest beneath—no bra, nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your tank. His jaw ticks, eyes locked on you as you lift it over your head and toss it aside.

He doesn’t move yet.

Just watches you.

“You wear these little fuckin’ shorts around my son like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your lip twitches. “Maybe I did it for you.”

He steps between your legs and drags the shorts down—rough, like he’s tearing them off. His hands roam up your thighs, spreading them apart, dragging his fingers over your panties, your slick already soaking through.

Toji leans down slowly. Breath warm against your core.

“I should’ve fucked you the second you put your hands on me,” he growls.

Then he dives in.

His tongue licks a flat, heavy stripe over your soaked panties before dragging them aside, and he starts to eat like he’s making up for all the weeks he held back.

It’s filthy. Loud. Wet.

His tongue plunges deep, nose pressed to your clit as he devours you, your hips grinding into his face. His hands pin your thighs down, fingers digging into your skin as he groans into your pussy like it’s the best meal he’s ever had.

You cry out, hands tangled in his hair. “T-Toji—fuck—”

“You like that?” he growls into your folds. “You like Daddy’s mouth on you?”

You whimper, back arching. “Yes, yes—please—”

He pulls away, face glistening, pupils blown wide.

Then he rips his sweats down and finally lets you see what you’ve been teasing. He’s thick, veined, huge—and already leaking for you. He strokes himself slowly, watching your eyes widen.

“Been thinkin’ about your tight little cunt since the second you walked into that apartment.”

He grabs your waist, flips you easily onto your stomach, and drags your hips back until your ass is pressed against his thighs.

No more games.

He slides in slow, stretching you open until you’re gasping—one inch at a time, your walls clenching tight.

“Fuck. You’re even tighter than I imagined,” he groans, voice ragged. “You wanna be a tease? Act like a brat?”

He slams into you suddenly, hips snapping forward.

“You’re gonna take all of it now.”

You cry out into the sheets as he sets a brutal pace—deep, punishing, hips smacking your ass with every thrust. His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back so he can hear every moan you try to muffle.

“You wanna keep actin’ grown,” he pants in your ear, “then take this cock like a grown fuckin’ woman.”

Your legs shake. Your eyes roll back. He fucks you through the mattress, using you, body slamming into yours until the only sound in the room is skin on skin and your broken moans.

Then he flips you again—presses your knees to your chest and pounds into you from above. Your tits bounce with every thrust, and he watches with dark, wild eyes, hand pressing into your stomach to feel how deep he is.

“You feel that?” he growls. “That’s me. All the way inside. Right where you wanted me.”

Your orgasm hits hard—violent, your whole body trembling as he fucks you through it.

And he doesn’t stop.

Not until he’s buried deep, hips stuttering, groaning low in your ear as he fills you up with a long, guttural moan.

When it’s over, your body’s limp, used, shaking.

He leans down, breathing hard, mouth pressed to your ear.

“Next time you touch my abs,” he rasps, “you better be ready to ride me too.”

[sum-stuff13]

༄ toji x reader

him helping you decide if that strawberry was indeed better than sex

your knees are pressed up all the way to your chest, toji has you in a nasty mating press, grinding into you with each painfully, deliberately slow roll of his hips. he wants you to feel all of him, he'll make sure you do.

"tell me mama," he grabs another strawberry, bringing the little fruit to your lips and watching you with those sharp emerald eyes as you bite into it.

toji leans down to lick away some of the juice drippling out the corner of your lips, humming at the taste. sweet and tart. purposely, toji quickens his pace then, the thumb of his other hand catches your clit, rubbing it in little tight circles that have you arching into him. head thrown back in bliss.

you feel it when that wolfish grin spreads on his face, smug and greedy and a little mean. he's making you eat you words — quite literally.

toji holds you close, keeping his face nears yours. he reaches for yet another strawberry, bringing it to your lips and snatching it away for himself. leaning his weight back to get (and to give) a better view as he takes a bite, making a show out of eating it. licking the juices running down his forearms so intently, all the while keeping the movement of his thumb on your needy little clit.

you twist beneath him, fat tears threatening to fall from yours eyes. you feel his breath fan your face when he leans down again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. it's sweet, tasting of strawberries and spring and his love for you.

he parts a few moments later to let you catch your breath. your chest rising and falling, all your muscles tensing. you're about to come undone, but you know he'll keep you like this forever should you keep him without an answer to his question;

"are those little strawberries better than sex?"

[sum-stuff13]

Helping Toji relax after a brutal shift at work :3

He had slumped through the door today around 5pm, a bit later than usual. Work had been overwhelming to say the least. The welds on the job needed to be taken apart and redone because the buying company needed different measurements.

He kicked off his work boots, silently groaning because his feet hurt. You were in the kitchen, already cooking. You heard him walk through door, letting the pasta sauce simmer on low as you walked over to him.

Once he saw you he went straight to you, slumping his body over yours as he held you in an embrace.

“Hey baby.” You said in that calm voice that always had him melting. “Rough day?” He hummed in response, nodding as he buried his face into your neck. “Awe I’m sorry. Dinner will be done soon. Take a warm shower yeah? There’s fresh towels in there.”

A while later he had taken his shower which helped him relax a bit. He ate dinner with you, not too much though, he was still a bit overheated from work so a hot meal was something he’d enjoy but not a lot of it.

You had taken care of the dishes and cleaned the kitchen for the night. Toji was in the bedroom, cooling off where there wasn’t much light. Having semi light eyes and welding isn’t the best combination. Often burning his eyes even with the helmet.

You walked in to see him laying on his stomach across the bed in front of a fan, his eyes closed but not asleep. You got on the bed, laying next to him. He instinctively got closer, holding you close, putting your head on the pillow he had set up before and laying his head on your chest.

Thats how you knew Toji Fushiguro was tired. No tv, no bothering you in the kitchen, just exhausted. You always felt bad when days like these happened, but you knew it couldn’t be helped. So you helped in the only way you could, taking care of him.

One hand scratched his back slowly while the other ran through his hair. The real way to get Toji melt like puddy for you. He let out a deep exhale, as if your fingers were sucking out the exhaustion from his soul and putting him to sleep. Which technically, they were.

Soon, he finally fell asleep, still on top of you, still holding you. Just how it needed to be.

He knows that even though his work day went bad, he’ll still come home and get pampered by his spouse, just the way he needs.

an: welder toji real plsplsplsplsplspls

augh not proof read, its 3am gang

[sum-stuff13]

I just wanna hold Bruk’x’s head in between my legs and never let go

Also I wanna tease him and playfully sexually harass him during the work day. For example…..I wanna suck his cock underneath a table when he’s talking to a colleague

Nah, that man couldn't keep you a secret under his table even if his life depended on it. He would melt shamelessly the second you touch him and couldn't give a flying fuck who sees it.

Keeping him between your legs, though...

He could die like this. Yeah, he could definitely die with your trembling thighs wrapped tight around his head, your weight pressing down on his face, and your dripping pussy grinding into his mouth.

You are raw and dripping. Your clit twitches almost painfully so with each greedy lap of his tongue. It's too much, but you can't stop him. You try to lift yourself, thighs shaking, core quivering, and hands scrabbling for something to lean on, but Bruk'x growls right against your cunt and clamps down harder. One set of arms locks around your thighs, your soft flesh sinking beneath his fingers while the other grabs your ass. His palms are full of you, kneading and forcing you to grind down on him even more, smearing his face with your slick and heat. He laps at your soaked folds with obscene, wet slurps, tongue dragging up your slit, flicking your swollen clit just hard enough to make your vision blur. And before the air can leave your burning lungs, he pushes you forward slightly to thrust into your pussy, fucking up into your fluttering hole while he ruts the air like he is losing his mind. It steals your breath away even before you can take one.

"Waitwaitwait," you gasp. The sharp edge of another orgasm cuts through your nerves, but Bruk’x doesn’t stop. He just loosens his grip barely enough for you to look down at him.

You are dizzy, completely gone, and the sight of him only makes it worse.

His face is soaked, slick and glistening with spit and your cum. His lips are swollen, his mouth hanging open while his tongue flicks out every few seconds to get more of your taste.

"I can’t take another."

But he doesn’t even hear you. His eyes are half-lidded, glazed with lust, and your words don’t reach whatever is left of his brain.

"Of course you can," he murmurs, voice sticky and wet.

His hands tighten, forcing your cunt to hover just above his lips again, twitching, dripping, and you try to resist, you really do, but he makes a sound that cuts straight through you.

A high, cracked mewl. Pathetic. Starving for more.

A pout creeps onto his pussy-slick mouth, brows pulling into an offended scowl. He looks up at you like you just kicked him. What do you mean you don’t want to give him more? After how good he was to your pussy? How could you deny him now?

A needy little whimper that leaves his throat is all desperation and no dignity. "Please," he rasps, tongue flicking out again, still tasting the ghost of you on his lips. "Just once more. Just… one more time…"

And how could you say no to that?

[sum-stuff13]

Monster Bestfiend Accidentally Finds Your Only Fans

Monster best friend that accidentally finds your only fans. As soon as he sees your face, he goes to get off your page, but when he sees the giant monster dildo in your hand, he pauses. His finger hovers over the play button, his mind at war with itself on whether to see more. His conscience screams at him to put the phone down and forget he saw you there, but everything else screams at him to see more.

He gives in and clicks on your page, and his cock throbs as he realizes that every video is of you playing with all different monster dildos. He starts a video and can’t help but moan as you bounce up and down on a very large dildo, clearly modeled after a werewolf cock. Your tiny cunt stretched more than he would have thought possible for a little human. 

His hand is immediately wrapped around his throbbing cock and stroking in time with your movements. He growls as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure, feeling his own release getting closer, far faster than he would like. 

As you let out a scream and gush all over the dildo, he finally cums, shooting all over his hand and the floor. He releases a small moan as he glances at his phone and sees the cum covering the screen over your naked body. 

The guilt slowly creeps in as he comes down from his high, and he vows he will never do this again. And he continues to break that vow every night as he crawls into bed, his cock cumming hard as he watches your videos, only to swear it’s the last time all over again. 

And when he sees you next, and his cock starts hardening immediately, he knows he is truly fucked. He’s just going to have to find a way to claim you for himself. At least he knows you have a thing for monsters and riding monster cock. He can’t wait to see you bouncing on his. 

[sum-stuff13]

Fun fact: Many nordic people actually genuinely hate the all-white minimalist ~Scandinavian Interior Design~ type of decor. This kind of thing:

You know why? Because for about half the year, the whole entirety of the Outside World looks like this:

The people are already so goddamn starved of colour that they are getting scurvy. And then some evil fuck decided that the indoors can't have colour in it either.

[sum-stuff13]

I have the opposite of what the catholics have going on. I think that if I'm irredeemably wretched and imperfect, that's not my problem, and it's god and my parents who should be begging for forgiveness about that. Why would I be ashamed of being their creation, they should be ashamed of creating me.

[sum-stuff13]

What are the odds that the lyrics of "what shall we do with a drunken sailor" were originally just improvised on the spot? Like all that was required was that it fits the tune and is funny enough. And if the men you're sailing with agree that "put him in the bin for indecent exposure" is fitting and funny enough, that's the next chorus.

[sum-stuff13]

Okay, english is not my first language so this might be a matter of communication issues: when I say "children are not directly and instantly traumatised by the sight of a natural naked human body", I mean the bodies of living people. Seeing a corpse in some state of decomposition, without being properly introduced to the idea beforehand within clearly defined boundaries is obviously traumatising to a child, regardless of whether the cadaver is clothed or not.

What I am talking about is children seeing people they know in various states of undress in normal home context. But in case you really are claiming that children are by default scarred for life at the sight of people with no clothes on, you guys are just weird.

[sum-stuff13]

According to old finnish folklore, having a wild animal wander into your house is an omen of death. The bigger the animal, the more imminent the death. A small bird, like a sparrow or a finch, is a sign that someone who lives in the house will die within the year. If the animal that has somehow made its way inside the house is a small mammal like a hedgehog, or a larger bird like an owl or raven, would mean that death is coming to visit in the next few months.

Massive megafauna, like a fully-grown moose or a bear, is a sign that someone will probably die within the next 20 minutes.

[sum-stuff13]

Transitioning gives you interesting perspective on how peoples' perception of your build changes more than your build actually does. I'm about 3 cm taller than the national female average where I'm from, and in my teens was just the most basic default settings standard-average build bitch. Can carry buckets of rocks and do other shitty yard work, separate two fighting dogs, is just fine walking 4 km home drunk in heels, short skirt and fishnet stockings at 2 am in a blizzard. Hoes are immune to frost damage anyway. Can't kill one of them things. Could be strapped on a yoke to plough a field if you don't have an ox.

But eight years on testosterone, ID changed and top surgery healed, I'm the same damn build and people will ask if I'm ok managing things that I'm perfectly fine with. Had a doctor who was 100% aware of my robust health describe my build as "delicate". I first wondered whether my boyfriend's family doesn't actually consider me male over being reluctant about letting me do physical outdoor work, before I noted that they're totally fine with his sister doing the same kind of work. And she's anemic and allergic to the fucking sun.

I'm about the same weight and height as I was when I was 16, but somehow a 16-year-old girl can be expected to have the relative strength and resilience of a cockroach, but a 30-something man the size of a 16-year-old girl is something that might die if someone sneezes too loud.

[sum-stuff13]

Service top is bullshit, I’m a mercenary top. I’m the dude who gets called up like “hey man can you fuck that guy for me” and I’m like “sure I guess yeah”

[sum-stuff13]

its all 'be gay do crime' until a black person starts making allusions to drugs or sex or god forbid VIOLENCE and then it turns out nobody can handle anything more hardcore than downloading illegal torrents of hamilton

[sum-stuff13]

⭒₊ ⊹🌕₊ ⊹⭒

> He kisses you with utmost adoration as one of his hands cups your cheek as the other rests on your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him, needing to merge with you under the weight of his emotions.

> He looks at you with eyes that glittered like the night sky decorated with stars. The moon? That's you reflected in his eyes. With his expressive eyes he stares- no, admires you as you tell him about your day. He breaks into a smile and only hums and nods in response when you ask him if he were listening to you.

> His hands seemed restless, clenching into a fist and unclenching before it hovers above your sleeping figure. After much consideration he finally puts his hand over your waist, stilling completely as you stir in your sleep. Once he has confirmed you weren't awake, he carefully draws himself closer to you as he finally falls asleep himself after being awake for hours now.

> He buries his nose into the crown of your head, the smell of your shampoo engulfing him. He moves to quickly press a kiss to your cheek, comforted by the pleasant fragrance. He loves how you smell especially after you shower. It's just so you!!! He will immediately be all over you, hugging you, leaving sweet pecks all over your face. He is not letting you go until he has showered you in affection.

> To him, the concept of personal space is probably foreign. He just loves being in physical contact with you in one way or the other. At this point, you just grow used to it and stop trying to make him keep his hands off you. Maybe you spoil him too much but isn't he just so adorable?

> He gives the best hugs! Mushing you to himself as he rubs his head against yours. Hand caressing your back or holding your waist. You could hug him for as long as you liked and you would if you hadn't caught a whiff of burnt food. "Were you cooking?" Watch as his eyes widen as his hand lodges itself behind your head, pressing it back against his chest. "What do I do?" He panicks. "Go tend to the food first!" Yeah, he is chaos. But he is also smitten with you :).

Itto [genshin impact] Gojo Satoru, Yuji Itadori [JJK] Takaaki Tsutsujimori (kinda?) [Negative Positive Angler] Aalto, Brant [Wuthering Waves] Sampo, Luka, Caelus, Phainon [HSR] ..... etc.

[sum-stuff13]

The next time your tabletop RPG needs a horrible item: the magic sword of explodes your clothes

Whether it has any other abilities or benefits, or if it's otherwise just a totally regular mediocre sword, is up to you (whichever feels funnier), but the main thing about the sword is that whoever wields it has their clothes violently explode off their body, without harming anyone or anything else (the person holding the sword included). I have no idea what someone would do with something like this, but I'm sure your players will come up with something deviously ingenious.