#Tw white boy mention

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

antique photographs from my personal collection // The Kids Aren't Alright – Fall Out Boy

suggested by @brambleberrycottage 🤍

[fragiledate]

Le destin et un fil rouge (click for qualité svp)

[ask-the-celestial-family]

Ganymede, little and playing with dolls: We don’t put Nina and Alex in the same room. They did the sucio. They’re in time out ‘cuz Nina cheated on Jason. Jason’s Mama would beat her with the chancla.

Nebula, in pure confusion because he doesn’t know Spanish: Oh my god, the sucio, the chancla. Okay, we’ll keep them separated.

Moon, watching from afar, who actually knows Spanish: These dolls have been through more drama than we have.

[kazik-bitch-ass-motherfucker]

iF I COULD STOP GETTING SOLELY UNDERCOOKED CHICKEN AND 12 Y.O. POLICE ACADEMY KID ADS ON TWITCH THAT'D BE GREAT 💀💀💀💀

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, dehumanization, dollification, patronization, condescension

♡ FEM reader

This is his playroom. It’s got puzzle-piece foam flooring and is filled to the brim with all sorts of different toys—including you. He’s got stuffed animals, pretty dolls, toy soldiers, Lego builds, and a gaming station with all types of fun—and parental safety restrictions, of course, no talking to strangers for you. Your controller is a pretty baby pink, and his a cool camo-green. But today, they’re left on the floor, untouched.

Because today, he only wants to play with you.

“You’re gonna be so pretty…” His voice is as grating as always—synthetically childish, making you grit your teeth. Sitting with you between his legs before the mirror, working diligently.

You look at the floor to avoid your reflection.

He’d gotten you a brand new baby-blue dress and painted you himself—done your eyelids up in matching clear skies, black lashes moth-like and fluttery, cheeks a rosy pink, and lips a sheer gloss extra plump and pretty—no need for tint—you bite them so cutely, they’re already his favorite color. Your hair’s done up in curls and ringlets, so bouncy and soft, beribboned with plentiful white bows.

“This color suits you so well. Makes you look like a cake-topper. Bite-sized. I could eat you right up.” He hums behind you, fiddling with the many intricacies, doing them up perfectly—no rush.

Looking up, the person staring back at you looks no different from a life-sized porcelain doll. Pristine, mint condition, fit to be put behind glass. In your frilly dress, petticoat and stockings. Just like Alice down the rabbit hole.

The only thing that betrays the illusion is the leather collar on your throat and the chain running from it to the middle of the floor. But no matter.

He’s got a giddy smile on his face— chest swelled with pride at his work. You’re his most prized possession. You really are! There isn’t a single toy in this room that can compete with you.

He’s not wearing anything special to match. Bedhead, undressed, still in his pajama pants. Why wouldn’t he be? This is his playroom, after all—his downtime—where he can be a boy with his toy. Though, calling him a boy isn’t exactly right—what with him being nearly in his thirties. Not to mention that he’s about two heads taller than you, with abs like an athlete, toned and chiseled and hard to the touch, hard enough to strain your wrists when he bears down on you. Oh, and that thing in his pants.

You bite your tongue and steal yourself. It would be easy to cry, but he only gets weirder about it then. So you stifle it, even though you look so stupid you want to act like an animal. Tear the dress to shreds and rub your makeup into a mess—scream, bite, spit on him. You’d done all that once before to no avail other than punishments that still keep you up at night. Once was enough. He didn’t play nice with you.

But then again, when does he ever?

“Hmm, think I’m done…” he announces after having dallied with the lace of your corset for a quarter-hour—it’s so tight you have to appreciate every breath. “Time to have some fun.”

He treats you no different from a doll either. Scooping you up into his arms like an inanimate object and carrying off to the princess bed—the one that looks like a girl’s birthday cake with a veil on top, and mountains of pillows all too soft.

He places you down on top of the duvet and it seems to swallow you like an ocean. He dives after, covering you like a fishnet. You take a final breath before he can drown, your hand on his chest, holding him at a distance.

“I was thinking, uhm…” you start, the words coming out odd, barely recognizable as your voice—only noticing now how long it had been since you’d spoken last. “I was…” you restart, but it’s still no easier. His eyes are large and unblinking, staring down at you as though he’s just as surprised as you are to found out you speak. “Hoping we could play… a little differently this time?”

He blinks at the request, having fallen completely still above you.

“Really? How?” The suddenness of his words make you flinch. You don’t know what you had expected—maybe a smile and something dismissive. It had been a while since he’d spoken directly to you like that—and not to himself in absentminded comments about you.

You recover some time, seeing him stare down at you all expectantly in wait. He follows when you guide him into sitting instead of looming over you, putting yourself in his lap—straddling him. “Mh, like this. Maybe?”

It’s a gamble. He’d never had you on top before, nor ever shown an interest in it. Setting aside the time you’d been sprawled on your belly over his thighs, his hand riddled in your hair and his other hand branding your ass with his very own toy company logo.

His expression is unreadable—perhaps a little confused if you were to take a guess.

“Oh!” he erupts with a smile you hope is the good sort. “You mean I play the toy and you the master?” He laughs brightly, falling on his back with a hand over his face, cackling through his fingers as though it were the most absurd proposal he’d ever heard.

But despite his obvious amusement, you still feel it—his toy poking into you from beneath.

He settles after a moment. “Alright then, why not?” Looking up at you—his hair a tousled mess splayed upon the bed, eyes as gleeful as the quirk on his lips. “Who knows… it could be fun.”

He props his arms behind his head, lounging comfortably.

“I did call you a cake-topper, after all,” he snickers. “I’ll lie perfectly still, like a good toy, while you play with me. Sound good?”

You can’t believe how open he was to it. Still a little apprehensive, you nod your head.

And then the game begins…

He doesn’t exactly stay true to his word. But you suppose that would be too much to ask. His head still rests pretty on the pillow with his eyes closed, smiling in satisfaction—for now, sated with your performance. Groaning in absentminded bliss, “You’re right. This is fun~”

But he hadn’t stayed perfectly still like he’d said. He’d reached out when you’d finally begun riding and now his arms keep you snug against his chest, fine-pressed sweaty skin against your frilly bust, more in a lock than a hug. It makes it kind of difficult to do what he wants, but you try your best—knees and toes planted in the mattress for stability as you jerk your hips on his lap. It’s awkward, but riding him like this is still better than the alternative, after all.

You keep your arms around the back of his neck, resting your face in the cradle it creates beneath his chin, panting lowly—eyes closed in focus away from the pain, brows tight with your tongue between your teeth, trying to maintain the rhythm despite the blossoming ache that’s started to spread from your hips down your thighs—another ill sting in the small of your back crawling up your spine. It’s hard staying bent over like this, and your movements are turning sluggish…

There’s a sigh from above you, pitchy and just awful. “Aww, is it really time already?” he whines—previous satisfaction dwindling—bordering on something else entirely now, the opposite and so much worse—boredom with a hint of disappointment—a spoiled child with a toy that’s run out of battery.

You shake your head, burying your face in his neck and tightening your grip, stealing yourself with newfound strength to maintain the tempo you had before while muffling out a desperate, “No, I can keep going—”

He lets out another sound, this time in thought. “Hmm...” It doesn’t give you much confidence—how lax a sound it is—as if he isn’t even close to being spent yet. “I don’t know… You’re so slow. I’m gonna get soft if this is all you got, y’know?”

He starts moving—sitting up. He takes his own hold on your hips, and you know what that means. And you can’t handle being played with, not when he damn near breaks you each and evert time.

“No, wait! I can keep going, please, just a little longer?” you insist, both palms pushed flat on his chest with your round eyes looking at him hopelessly in plead for a second chance—even though you know he isn’t one with the patience to give you one.

He stares blankly back, big-eyed in surprise at your outburst. Though still not convinced it would be worth humoring you. If he was being honest, he’d enjoyed it more than he thought he would but had now had his fill and wanted to take charge as usual and finish the job. However…

Oh, you’re being so uncharacteristically cute today—and that pathetic look of desperation on your face is truly something else…

He smiles deceptively softly, so brightly it reaches his eyes. He very nearly looks innocent like that, but you know him too well—so well that the sight of his lips curling gives you nothing but a churning stomach.

“Okay then, doll. You convinced me.”

Suppose it doesn’t hurt letting you have your way sometimes. You have been on very good behavior lately, after all. He ought to reward you.

“I’ll be your toy a little longer.” He murmurs with a lazy smirk, nose-kissing you—patronizing, as though he’s doing you a big favor.

It doesn’t grant you any peace, and neither does the way he keeps his hold on your hips, rubbing smooth circles into the fat leisurely, letting you know he wouldn't be removing them—it serves as some type of encouragement as you start moving again.

It’s easier now when you’re upright. Holding his shoulders, you can jump rather than buck—up and down, up and down, up and down—it’s simple enough. Or it was for a moment, at least, before he planted your hips down.

“Not like that,” he shakes his head softly. “Like this.” He moves you after his will, wanting you to grind instead—putting you back in square one.

Your movement staggers, and you mask a wince with a moan—fuck, your muscles are so sore, maintaining this movement is enough to make your loins scream, feeling all but set on fire.

With one hand keeping you seated, the other takes hold of your leash and pulls you in close, his lips on the dew of your rouge-dusted cheek—you feel the grin, and like prey threatened by a hunter’s teeth, you shiver in respect of it. “Come on, dolly, ride or die, faster,” he simpers, voice laced with mockery and amusement.

Your thighs are shaking now, tightened up in anguish, begging for a break—soon to take it without your permission. How much you can take reaches a point, and everything goes slack not a second too soon.

“And now you’re done,” he snickers hotly under his breath, planting a kiss on the side of your glossy lips while you exhaustedly and gingerly take your break with a feeling of defeat. He speaks low, and you dread every eerie lick of his words, “My turn to play.”

You want to protest, but you know it’s no use. He’d made up his mind now, and challenging it any further would only turn you into a nuisance—toys are supposed to enjoy being played with, after all—best take it with grace and shut up before he reminds you.

He flips the both of you around with ease, reclaiming his spot—on top. He loves you like this, splayed out beneath him like a puppet—just waiting to have all your strings pulled.

It was good while it lasted, you think—maybe if you get better, you can make him finish and not have to endure what comes next.

“Don’t pout, dolly—that was fun,” he kisses you lips as they start to tremble. “But you suit being my toy so much better.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo ♡ HQ – Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[deadghosy]

I didn't know we could request readers getting hurt. In that case can I request the hotels cast reaction to dogday reader getting the game dogday treatment as an exterminator cuts them in half. Like game dogday they're still alive but ouchy

TW: GORE AND BLOOD MENTIONS (not detailed but it’s there)

HAZBIN HOTEL X DOGDAY! READER

prompt: during the fight against the Angels, you let your guard down at the wrong moment…..

You used your 8ft frame and to slap and crush the angels as Angel dust shoots the angel from your shoulder as husk throw explosive dice and sharp spade cards around you three. It was a good them effort as you had his stomped out an Angel with your huge paw. You were helping the hotel defend against the angels as you never saw this actually coming.

You heard a whimper seeing one of the egg boiz be chased by an angel as you ran over and crushed the angel’s head in your paw that had angelic metal in it. The egg boi immediately cuddled up to you as you picked it up.

You must have been so worried that you didn’t noticed an angel behind you and the egg. But it was too late as the egg boi’s eyes widen seeing an exterminator behind the two of you.

You felt a stab in your abdomen as you looked down to see an angelic spear stab you. You felt blood trickle down your mouth as it burned inside of you.

A piercing scream rang out the battle field as you felt you lose the strength seeing blood pour out. Your friends perk up at that knowing scream of yours. Charlie looks down from the roof with her father to see what was going on. She gasped covering her mouth lookin at you. The angel takes the spear out of you as she slashes your body in half.

Your upper and lower body collided to the ground and blood spill from your mouth hearing foot steps and an evil laughter as you heard someone’s voice. “DONT WORRY! WE’RE COMING SUNNY!” It was all muffled due to the blood loss as you couldn’t hear who it even was.

Blood filled your nose, screams, the feeling of blood loss, and the sounds of bombs blowing up. It all rang in your ears as the last thing you see is the angel who cut you being shot. Before you passed out.

You wake up seeing the crew look down relieved but some had a disturbed face as you tried to move your “legs”…..

Your legs….wait….

You look down to see your bottom half to be gone only to se a bandaged half. Your eyes widen shaking as the white pupils of your eyes disappear. You sob painfully looking down as your dog ears over your face. Charlie covers her mouth seeing your sadness at the lost of your legs as she hugs you .

Angel and husk joins as well as the other as they all crowed you trying to show that they are here for you. You felt loved, but what will you do now…….

Months has passed and you are in a wheel chair. At the loss of your legs, it’s like you became a new person who doesn’t smile much but still grant a smile towards a friend who needs one. You have the slight scent of vanilla but mixed with blood due to the blood in your body at times. Your voice also had changed as the scream you let out ruined your normal vocal cord. So now you sound a little depressed.

But still Charlie helps you to walk with you using your arms. You got the hang of it quickly but you’re use to the wheelchair since it doesn’t take your energy away.

Angel helps you move around in your wheel chair as he makes joke with you as you smile or with either grumble jokingly at his dirty jokes.

Lucifer, he’s trying to find a way to heal you as he feels like he failed to protect you. One of his own people. Even his own friend that he felt like you were as you always was friendly to other and him.

Alastor lets you sleep in your wheel chair as he plays soft jazz in your room or if you want to listen to his radio broadcast

Husk still snuggles again you but not like a cat in your lap type snuggle. Nah he just lays down with you on the couch as you snore while he purrs.

Niffty decorated your wheel chair to your liking as she smiles seeing your grateful smile as she hugs your fluffy arm.

[a-small-plucked-chicken]

I used to play this as a kid on my mums phone, ah memories,,,,,,,,, anyway there's probably porn of that monster pounding that little twink into oblivion and honestly get that dick, weirdo white boy running for your life

the thing is i've always hated subay surfers. it's been around since i was way younger and as soon as i saw it i hated it

[triple-pupil]

Felt a tad bit weird today.

So have my boy feeling weird too.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

break up with your boyfriend

Yandere trans!fem cheerleader x fem reader

It was so shittily made but I need to pump out more fics or else my blog will die. Thank you all for 1k followers though! I'll rewrite this in the future maybe

Tw: mentions of blackmailing, nsfw, slight breeding kink, batshit crazy girlfriend,not proofread, another oc mentioned!?🌺

💄Eva saccharine has been your girlfriend since she first started transitioning. You helped her style her hair, do her nails, pick her clothes, find good makeup, anything she needed to feel like the real her. So when freshman year rolled in, it came as no surprise to you she fit right in with the clique.

💐Ofcourse you had your fears she'd choose them over you but that wasn't the case, because she'd make you eat lunch with them and sit on her lap, not so subtly humping your ass while talking all about cheer practice

🛍️boys wanted to date her, girls wanted to be her. She just wanted you, to just be the two baddest bitches on the block. It didn't matter if you were just like her or the complete opposite, she gushed over you. Praising you for being her good girl, her sweet little princess, her obedient pocket pussy-

💄but at this current moment? She was busy bullying your insides, forcing her fat cock into your slippery hole as she held you steady by your waist. Biting and groaning everytime she'd feel you squeeze that certain spot on her dick

"fu-uuckkk.. baby cakes, 'yer squeezin' me so goood.. ah.. hah.. you wouldn't mind if I pumped a few babes into your tight cunny right? Wanna be my baby mama?"

💐that made you squeeze tighter, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life. She had you face down, ass up and damn near breaking your back with how hard she was going. Hearing the normally composed and playful eva turn into a drooling pussy-drunk mess had you feeling butterflies, just going plap play plap-

🛍️let's just say, by the end of it, you couldn't walk for days afterwards. But no amount of hickies and perfume would be able to scare away a rather persistent guy. He was on the football team, star quarterback, rich asshole. sam white. Eva hated his guts, he thinks he can just waltz in and steal her bitch? Not on her watch.

💄this little feud had been going on for a while, and more times than you could count you've been caught in the crossfire. Though it was kinda funny, seeing them screeching insults at eachother and bickering. Eva would sassily flick her blonde hair and grab you by the collar of your neck, Dragging you away while Sam hooted and hollered at your retreating form

💐you never questioned her morbid fascination with anything horror or paranormal related. She was just obsessed with regular girl things. wanting you to help her summon a demon once, but you aren't that stupid, making blood pacts with them could result in very unsavory ending's and you quite cherished your soul and body

🛍️Eva has more than one account on different social medias, pretending to be multiple different people and Stalking your posts. She'd slide into your dms and flirt, seeing if you'd really cheat on her. She's so happy when you instantly block the account, guess you'll survive not being sent to her basement for another week

💄she has the audacity to grab a frilly pink pen and make you wear clothes that purposely shows off what she wrote. In bright bold lettering, Eva's little cum dump ♡ . Maybe she'll let you bring a jacket, only if you beg her really hard with those big doe eyes she loves. She put a collar and leash on you too

💐don't try breaking up with her, she takes 'they go low, I go lower" to another level. Threatening to post pictures of you in rather compromising positions. When did she record all of this? Who knows. She won't refrain from spreading nasty rumors of you that just force you to come sobbing into her arms, if you try and get comfort from somebody else she won't hesitate to eliminate them. Don't you see? She's the final girl, and you're her love Interest

"I told you not to run pretty baby.. now look what you've done. I gotta fix your mess up~.."

moral of the story: be a loyal loving girlfriend and she'll spoil you rotten with her daddy's black card ♥️

[satoruan]

ONE LAST TIME — GETO SUGURU & GOJO SATORU

✧ ˒ — you’ve been invited to your old fuck buddy's wedding and the best man feels that the three of you have unfinished business.  

( TW ) Fem!reader. explicit content. porn with some feelings (not rlly but also rlly). reader is a slut. cheating. mentions of reader sleeping with other people. MFM. spit roasting. blow job. P -> V. unprotected sex. cream pie. face riding. fingering. squirting.  

word count - > 2.2k  

author note. the last time I’ll re upload this fic 😔 tumblr hates it for some reason!!

Satoru had been sending you winks and sly smirks throughout the night. He finally has the balls to text during the middle of the feast.  

Satoru: Enjoying the wedding?

you: Yep! Best wedding I’ve been to.

Satoru: So, you aren’t the slightest bit jealous?

you: Jealous? And why would I be? The only one jealous here is you because ‘Sugu is getting married before you’.

Satoru: Pchss I don’t want to be held down and forced to fuck one person for the rest of my life, wouldn’t you agree y/n?

you: Shut up, that was so long ago, you’re the only one who remembers or cares about that.

Satoru: I doubt that.

you: Doubt all you want Toru. Suguru and I are over It so let go. It’s been years.

Satoru: So, if I told you ‘Sugu invited you because he wanted one last night with you?

you: Shut up Toru, he’s married.

You cross your legs and look up, automatically spotting Satoru sitting at one of the tables up front, absorbed in his phone. You quickly look away and scan the room, where you find Geto. Your face heats up as you notice him staring at you intently, clearly ignoring his wife, who is trying to get his attention. Feeling flustered, you hurriedly lower your gaze back to your phone.

Satoru: I’m not lying! He even told me at his bachelor party that he misses the old days...

The old days when you spent your college years filled with their cum. You had a cock stuffed inside of you almost every day. The boys weren’t always available, so you had to get creative.   

Satoru: Meet me in the bathroom?’

you: Nope, I told you I’ve changed.

Satoru: Stop lying y/n.

you: I’m not!

Satoru: Then what were you doing with Nanami and his friends?  

You choke on your spit, how did he—you were going to kill Nanami the next time you saw him. You didn’t think anyone else had seen you leave the office that night. Fuck. Fuck. You were absolutely going to kill him. You glance back up and make eye contact with Satoru, who tilts his head and licks his lips. His white hair falls into his face. He looks so utterly fuckable.   

Satoru: You want me to beg? Tell you how much I missed your tight pussy and pouty lips?

‘Keep talking…’ You text. Fuck it. You missed Satoru too, it’s been years, and it wasn’t as if you parted on bad terms—you wouldn’t mind fucking him one more time. One last time, as a goodbye.  

Satoru: Miss your cute little moans and your tight ass and how your pretty little hands looked wrapped around my cock. I miss the cuddles after it. I miss everything, pretty girl.

you: One more time Satoru. This is the last time! 

Satoru: meet me at the family bathroom in 5 ;) 

—  

“Fuckin’ missed you.” Satoru groans into your mouth, throwing you onto the counter. You wrap your legs around his wide hips as he grabs your hair. “Toru, don’t fucking mess up my hair, what do you think they’ll say when I come out with a bird’s nest instead of my fancy wedding hair.”  

“Sorry, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, moving his hands to your waist. You pull him closer to you. The familiarity of his hands and mouth on you makes you melt.

Satoru breaks away and sinks to his knees. He pushes your sheer lilac dress up above your ass and rolls his eyes back into his head.  

“Missed this pussy.” He inhales. Thumbing your clit above your white lace panties. You grab onto his hair and moan.   

“Toru—”  

“Shh—let me show you how much I’ve missed this pussy sweet girl,” He leans in to lick your damp panties. “Show me.”  

Desperate for an orgasm you obey, sliding the flimsy lace to the side and parting your slick pussy with two fingers. Satoru leans in immediately to lick you entirely.   

“Satoru!” You cry, the grip his hair tightening as he eats you like a starved man. You fall back onto the mirror and hump his face as he sucks your clit.  

“Gonna cum Toru! Don’t stop, please, please, don’t stop!” You slur, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he stuffs three thick fingers into your achy cunt. He curls them to hit your g-spot, the spot that he discovered existed long ago.   

“M’cumming!” You moan removing your hand from your pussy to grip the edges of the counter. Your pussy convulses around Satoru's fingers.  

“Not gonna stop ‘till you squirt for me,” He mumbles against your clit. “You can do it—good girl.” He goes back to sucking your clit. It doesn’t take long until you're squirting all over his face. Eyes squeezed shut and ears ringing, you don’t notice that someone walks into the large restroom because the man between your legs never locked the door.  

“Was I not invited to the party?” Suguru shoots the two of you.   

You pull yourself up, your legs swinging around Satoru's head.

“Sugu!” You squeak.  

Satoru tries to say something, but he’s trapped between your thighs.

“No, Sugu, we were just getting started. Isn’t that right, pretty?” He coughs, standing up with a soaked shirt and a glistening face. He grins at his Suguru.

He pulls his gaze away from his best friends and looks at you. You're staring at him with wide eyes, your legs tightly closed as if he’s never seen what’s between them before. He steps closer to you. “Is that right, y/n?” You suck in a breath and nod.

“Y-yes.”   

“Then why are you hiding that slutty pussy from me.”   

“You’re a taken man now ‘Sugu–”   

“And that's gonna stop you?”  

“Why don’t you go fuck your wife?” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest and returning your attention to Satoru. “Are we gonna finish this or what?”   

“Don’t look away from me, y/n,” Suguru says, crossing the space between you and grasping your chin. “She’s nothing like you—too traditional and stuck up. She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”  

“Yeah?” You blink up at him through wet lashes, your heart fluttering. You uncross your legs and slowly lift them to Suguru's thick hips.

“Nothing—no one compares,” he says as he draws your face closer to his.

“Do you promise?” you whisper shyly, your lips brushing against his.

“Promise,” he teases before catching your swollen lips. Your back arches, legs clinging to his suit-clad waist. His lips taste like watermelon-scented Chapstick—it must be his wife's. You bite his bottom lip and giggle at the thought.

“How long you got before your wifey comes lookin’ for you?” Satoru asks.  

“Not long, about ten minutes at most.” Suguru rolls his eyes, catching your lips again.   

“You gonna take me in the mouth and let ‘Sugu fuck your cunt, angel? Think you can get us off in ten minutes?”   

“Sith time to spare.” You smirk up at Satoru who smiles and starts to unbuckle his pants. His heavy cock jumps out, tip leaking precum.  

“Come here then, sweetheart.” Suguru pulls you off the counter and flips you towards Satoru. He pushes you down until you are folded at the waist. You grab onto Satoru’s thick thighs, his cock jumping on the side on your face. You look up at him and smile before turning slightly to peck his shaft.  

“Stop teasing—be a good girl and put it in your mouth before I mess up your ‘fancy weddin’ hair.’” He teases. You glare up at him—about tell him off, but as soon as you open your mouth Suguru shoves his thick cock into your wet pussy. You scream.  

“Shut her up ‘Toru!” Suguru spits out between groans. You clench so tight around him he tries not to cum prematurely.   

You move to take Satoru’s cock before he has a chance to fuck up your hair any more than he already has. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you thank the gods above you don’t have a gag reflex. You start to bob your head down his stiff cock, careful not to nick him with your teeth.  

Suguru starts to thrust in and out, hands gripping your hips so tight you know your hips will be bruised for the next week.  

“So fuckin’ tight,” Suguru grunts throwing his head back. “Tightest cunt I‘ve ever fucked.”  

You moan around Satoru’s cock.   “Missed this warm mouth.” Satoru moans, thrusting his hips into your face. Suguru follows his lead.

“You miss havin’ two cocks in you, oh wait, you still get fucked like this weekly by—fuck—by Nanami’s entire office floor.” Mouth full of cock, you don’t even attempt to defend yourself, it’s true anyways.  

“We’re still you're favorites or did you forget about us after college, hm? So many cocks you forgot about the first two.” Suguru slams you down the entire length of his cock, so hard Satoru’s cock falls out your mouth. Satoru grips your jaw, ignoring the spit and precum that falls onto his hands.  

“Is that true pretty, you forgot about the men who taught you how to take cock?”  

“N-no,” you moan out, Suguru's cock filling you up so good you hardly remember how to breath.   

“Never f-forget you guys, never ever.” You promise.  

“Then prove it, suck my cock just how I taught you.”

You shudder in pleasure before shamelessly grabbing ‘Toru’s cock and shoving it back in your mouth, determined to get him off. You bounce your head up and down his shaft, licking and sucking the tip, just like he taught you.   

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” ‘Toru grits out, forgoing the rule about touching your hair. He holds your head to his pelvis thrusting into your mouth so hard you start to get lightheaded, pair that with Suguru's thick cock pushing against your pelvis, and you’re surprised you haven't passed out.  

“M’cummin, f-fuck m’ gonna cum” Satoru groans shooting thick ropes into your throat. You swallow down every sip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Suguru’s thrusts turn sloppy.

“C-Cum in my pussy ‘Sugu!” You cry against Satoru’s softening cock.  

“What was that Sweetheart?” Suguru pulls you put by the scruff of your neck. “What did you say?”  

“S-said cum in me, please!” You cry, your hands reaching for the hand around your neck.  

“M’gonna cum deep inside in you Sweetheart, gonna cum so deep you’ll e scooping it out for days,” Your pussy clenches at the thought. “You wan’ that, hm? You want my cum?”   

“Please, please, please!” You beg.  

“Take it then—” He slams into your ass, cumming deep inside your pussy causing you to orgasm at the feeling of being filled to the brim.  

“Fuck that felt amazing.” Suguru mumbles into your now fucked up hair. At that thought you open your eyes and glare at Satoru.  

“What?” He questions, stuffing himself back into his pants.  

“You messed up my hair.” You grumble. Suguru laughs behind you, gently slipping his now soft cock out of you. You clench your cum-filled pussy while Suguru situates your thong back in place, he pats your pussy. You’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia and the old routine. Memories of the three of you coming to the forefront of your mind. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this. Somedays all you think about is how you wish you could just go back to the days when you fucked the boys like a bunny in heat. The days when you laid on Suguru’s chest after long days and thought about what your life would be like if you settled down with him. You’d give anything to go back.  

“Suguru, you in here?”  

“Shit!”  

—  

“Is she okay?” Suguru’s wife frowns, looking at you slumped over the toilet.  

“She's just drunk, she always acts like this around alcohol and can't help herself when it comes to taking as many shots as she can get her hands on.” Satoru smirks, and you roll your eyes beneath your arm

“Why’s your shirt wet?”   

“She let loose and threw up all over me, had to get creative.”   

“C'mon babe, let's get back to the party, Satoru will help clean her up.” Suguru puts his hand on his wife’s back gently guiding her out of the restroom.  

“Okay, be quick Satoru, we're about to do another round of speeches, the crowd loves you.” 

[demigod-jack-hearth]

Au - Open starter (Mental)

TW (insanity, self harm)

Au - all relationships with jack are the same / his kids are still his kids

You haven't visited jack for 6 months, not since he was sent to the mental asylum after he finally snapped from a power overload

You've decided it was time to visit him.

Once you arrive at the asylum and sign in. you can hear screams of patients as you are led through the corridors towards Jack's cell

Once you enter Jack's cell, you realise how horrible he's being treated

The cell is painfully white, squishy pillows cover the walls with marks on each one

Jack is curled up in the corner wearing a straight jacket and gently rocking himself, muttering incoherent phrases

(tag list mention if you want to be added or removed)

@unhinged-waterlilly @zariahthewitch @beauty-queen-official @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @nicoswill2live @unproblematic-hestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @love-lightning-forethought @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-daughter-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @the-puppeteer-witch @luck-is-crucial @pink-koi-lovejoy @smileyalater @the-bosses-of-you @the-goddess-aphrod1te @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @theycallmejeezycreezy @queenofthedeep @giant-prophetic-snake @sophia-goddess-of-spring @reyna4ever @queenofthedeep @vicious-daughter-of-zeus

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent

—

Tw: vivisection mention (not in detail), bad Fenton parents

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 2 here) (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a dark, cold, miserable night, and Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, wanted nothing more than to be home, covered in blankets with the heater set to max as he worked on his most recent strain of fear toxin.

Instead he was at the docks, standing in as backup for the Penguin as he made a deal with some sleaze-bag smugglers. Something about some sort of body armor for his hired help. Crane hadn’t really paid much attention to the Penguin’s words, only caring enough to show up because of the reward.

But honestly, he couldn’t care less about the money at this point.

He was cold, and miserable, and his leg hurt something fierce (he’d had chronic pains ever since being mauled by Killer Croc some time ago), and he was so, so close to a breakthrough with his new toxin, and he really couldn’t stand the Penguin anyways. The only thing keeping him there was his reputation as a rogue.

Just as Crane was deciding that the whole ordeal wasn’t worth it, he heard the sound of a chase a few blocks down. With a deep, heavy sigh, he moved from the wall he had been leaning against, looming in the alleyway as he waited for the potential threat to reveal itself.

A few moments later, a boy came careening into the alleyway, sliding to a stop when he noticed the Scarecrow, his eyes growing impossibly wide. Beneath the mask, Jonathan grinned.

The boy swore, loudly, glancing between Scarecrow and the exit of the alleyway. As the echoing sound of footsteps grew closer, he chose to face the way he came, turning his back to Scarecrow.

What an idiotic way to get killed. Either the boy was a complete and utter fool, or there was something out there worse (to him, at least) than the Scarecrow.

Jonathan Crane tilted his head slowly, considering. He could just cut his losses and leave, Penguin be damned, or he could stay and see what had the boy so spooked.

Eventually, unfortunately enough, his curiosity won out. He shifted, bringing a hand to his side where he kept several canisters of fear toxin.

Crane had to bite back a groan when the boy’s pursuers entered the alleyway.

It was those damned idiots in white suits.

They had been tailing him for weeks now. They were easy enough to fight, but they were annoyingly persistent, and always seemed to have a way to find him. (Not to mention, the Riddler had strong opinions on their outfits, and if he had to hear the white-suit-in-Gotham rant one more time he was going to throttle him.)

Led by the men in white was a woman in a teal hazmat suit. Jonathan had seen her around, too, though less frequently than the others. He had honestly assumed that she was just a new C-tier rogue and avoided her like the plague.

Her eyes went wide as saucers when she saw Jonathan standing a few feet from the boy. No one moved a muscle.

“Danny,” the woman spoke softly. The boy, Danny, flinched, glancing between her and Scarecrow, “come on, we can talk about this. Your father and I only want to help you.”

He was running from his mother?

Scarecrow paused after that revelation, choosing to fully take in the boy’s appearance.

He was lean, almost gaunt, and wearing clothes several sizes too big for him, probably stolen. His entire body shook, from fear and cold both, and he clutched his stomach with one hand. At first, Scarecrow assumed that it was due to being out of breath, but as he looked closer he could see blood staining the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt.

He was injured, underweight, and running from his parents.

Something that felt a lot like rage swelled in Jonathan’s heart.

“Danny, you don’t get it! We’re so close now. We can fix you, and then we can go home, and everything can go back to normal,” she said, smiling in a way that was clearly supposed to be reassuring. She took a few steps forward, the men behind her clearly readying their weapons.

The boy backed away from his mother, inadvertently coming closer to Scarecrow.

He glanced up at Crane again, his blue eyes shining in fear, but not of him.

Sickening. Sickening.

In one fluid motion, Jonathan grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulling him behind him, and threw a large canister of fear gas into the group who had been chasing him.

The liquid in the container turned to gas as soon as it broke open, billowing out and filling half of the alleyway with a thick yellow smog.

The boy gasped, pulling his shirt over his face in a pathetic attempt to filter out the toxin. It would have to do, though, Scarecrow thought, rushing forward to force the boy’s aggressors to breathe in the gas.

The fight that the men put up was pitiful. The few individuals who didn’t breathe in the toxin immediately were clearly unused to fighting hand-to-hand, and dropped like flies in Scarecrow’s wake.

Just as the men began to spasm and shout in their terror, as if on cue, the familiar wail of police sirens reached the Scarecrow’s ears.

He heaved a heavy, irritated sigh, fingers twitching for a cigarette. He was trying to quit as of late, but he felt that after today, he might deserve one.

Though now was not the time to be thinking of cigarettes.

Jonathan approached the boy, mindful of any signs he might run off.

The boy didn’t seem to notice his approach in the slightest, just staring at the woman in the jumpsuit as she writhed on the ground.

Right. That would most likely be traumatic for a child to see, wouldn’t it?

Scarecrow moved in front of the boy, blocking his line of sight. The boy looked up at him now, his face completely blank.

“The police are on their way,” Scarecrow spoke, his voice low. The boy didn’t acknowledge him in any way.

“You don’t want to be here when they arrive, do you?”

After several moments pause, the boy shook his head slowly. He looked numb.

Dissociation, most likely.

“You’ll come with me, then.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he waited for the boy’s response regardless. As soon as he nodded in agreement, Jonathan lifted him up, carrying him out of the cold, miserable alleyway.

Scarecrow paused briefly to warn the Penguin of the incoming officers through the comm he had been given, and then he was off, weaving through the streets and alleyways towards his getaway car.

…

The drive back to his safe house was quiet. The boy didn’t look over at him once, instead opting to stare out ahead of him.

…

Luckily, they were able to make it back without detection. Jonathan ushered the boy into his small apartment, sitting him down on the dingy couch that had come with the lease.

“Wait here, alright?” Jonathan said, the boy nodding once in response.

With that, he retreated into the small kitchen, looking for some sort of warm beverage.

It was nearly three in the morning now, so coffee was out of the question. He was completely out of the hot chocolate he had bought for whenever Eddie or Harley came over for a visit, so that was out too.

He supposed the only option was his chamomile tea. Did teenagers like tea? He supposed it didn’t really matter, the kid was on the run from his parents in the house of a Gotham rogue. Surely he had bigger things to worry about.

Jonathan made the drinks quickly, leaving the kitchen with two mugs in hand. He gave one to the boy, who looked up at him in surprise, before settling into his own seat.

It was an incredibly comfortable old leather armchair that he had gotten some years ago and stubbornly held onto ever since. He usually had one of the rogues he was at least somewhat friendly with pick it up when he entered Arkham.

Whenever Eddie and Harley were over, they would call it his old man chair, and he would tell them to leave.

The two of them sat quietly for a while, drinking their tea slowly. It was clear that the boy was leaving whatever headspace he had slipped into, becoming more alert (and uncomfortable) by the second.

“So,” Crane began, pausing before speaking more quietly when he saw the boy flinch, “you knew them.”

It was not a question.

The boy nodded, curling in on himself. He held the mug close to his chest, no doubt soothed by the warmth.

“They’ve been following me around for some time now,” Crane continued, “and you’re going to tell me why.”

The boy looked up at him, a pained expression written all over his face.

“You won’t believe me,” he murmured, curling up even further.

His clothes were soaked. Jonathan should have put down a towel before letting him sit down.

“Sure I will,” he said, ignoring the blood and water seeping into his furniture.

The landlord would not be happy.

“It’s gonna sound crazy.”

“I’ve been to Arkham.”

The boy paused, before mumbling something quietly.

“Again? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said,” the boy huffed, quickly changing his tone when he remembered who he was talking to, “they…think you’re a ghost.”

“A ghost,” Crane repeated flatly.

“I told you it was gonna sound crazy!” The boy protested, before wrapping his arms around himself.

“Well,” Jonathan hummed, “it’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard in Gotham. Explain it to me.”

The boy paused, glancing up at his face, no doubt looking for some sign of mockery. He found none.

Then, he opened his mouth, and explained everything he could.

Ghosts, the portal to another world, the GiW, his parents. It was all incredibly far-fetched, but also far too consistent to be made up on the spot, and Crane could tell that the boy genuinely believed what he was saying.

“…but, if you don’t believe me, fine. I know it probably sounds stupid and fake,” he mumbled, looking away.

“I’ll believe you for now,” Crane said. The boy whipped his head up, staring at him in shock.

“If I do trust that what you’re saying is true, though, then why do I show up on their equipment as a ghost? I’m not dead, and never have been.”

“Um,” the boy hummed, looking somewhat nervous. Understandable, really.

“Well, have you by any chance been involved in any lab accidents recently..?”

Jonathan Crane froze, his face dropping. The boy noticed his change in demeanor, flinching slightly.

“Penguin,” he hissed out, his voice slightly inhuman. “Cobblepot, that motherfucker.”

“Wait—calm down! The angrier you get, the easier you’ll show up on the radar!”

Crane glared down at the boy, seething with rage. He once again flinched, looking away from him. With an extraordinary amount of effort, Jonathan slumped back down in his chair, breathing deeply in an effort to calm himself.

When he cracked his eyes back open, the boy was openly staring at him, curiosity written all over his face.

As soon as he noticed Crane looking back at him, he glanced away, straightening in his seat.

“Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about. In the morning, we’re going to discuss this in a lot more detail,” he said, standing up with slow movements. The boy stood as well, hands clasped together.

“For now, though, you’re going to let me take a look at that wound of yours, and then you’re going to take a shower and go to bed.”

The rest of the night went rather quickly.

The boy was rather hesitant to show him his wound, instead assuring him that it had been properly sewn up and that he was fine. Crane was having none of it, though, and gave him a once-over just in case.

It was, very clearly, the kind of cut used during an autopsy. Danny didn’t offer any information, so Crane had to assume that he was either back from the dead, or he had been vivisected. Either was possible in Gotham.

At the very least, Danny hadn’t lied about the stitches, and the wound was already beginning to heal.

With that, Danny showered quickly (he leapt out with a shriek the moment the hot water ran out), and went to bed in borrowed clothes without much complaint.

Thus, Jonathan was left with cold water for his shower, and slept on the still-damp couch so that the boy could have a bed to sleep in. Somehow, he found that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH ♡

we often talk about jj and lamb!reader, and how those interactions go down. but we forget that rafe too has his feet planted firmly in the equation.

he’s so much worse. so much more manipulative. whilst jj drives you away from those toxic idealisms the strict church that raised you had you believing, rafe leans right into them. upon limbreys request he’s up early every sunday no matter what coke-fuelled-party he found himself at on saturday night to drive you all the way to church, the kook poster boy ushering you inside whilst you wear those pretty little pastel dresses— often getting through the service by wondering just what you’ve got on underneath. ♱ ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

tw: dark themes! blasphemy, catholicism, rafe disrespecting readers faith. i have catholic trauma so this was healing in a weird way to write — but don’t read if you feel you are to be bothered by this content. you are responsible for your own media consumption.

in moments of silence amongst rafes mental spiralling — he’d come to the conclusion that you were sent to save him like an angel. he’d done so many bad things, lead astray by his father and the pogues and whatever else he could blame. but you, you were pure and untouched by this cursed island. if he had you by his side, he’d be forgiven for all the bad he’d done before.

that being said, he couldn’t help his lecherous gaze. his boyish tendencies and moments of self indulgence unsurprising to the addict himself. he wanted to see you on your knees and no not before a wooden pew — wet mouth and cross necklace glistening as you look up to the only lord you should know and worship. him.

there was so much that went over your head he found himself having fun with it. pretending he’s helping out around the house by leaning against your doorway and watching you organise your dresser for a moment before speaking.

“hey, uh— m’doing the laundry for your mom. gimme those.” he nods to your white tights and you furrow your brows.

“my tights?” you feel a little flushed at the mere mention of them. you might have scoffed if it were one of those pogues, but rafe was a good boy— he did good by you, that’s what your mother always told you anyway.

“yeah.” he nods like it’s obvious and you’re silly for even asking. “hand ‘em over already.”

a silence washes over the room, and you timidly slip them down beneath your thin little dress. rafe presses a tongue between his lips as if to act as some kind of glue to stop him from smiling but he does so anyway, scratching his cheek before stepping into the room with his hand extended to retrieve them. you keep eye contact with him the whole time too, you teasing little thing. it must’ve been a respect thing. you were raised that way. always look someone in the eye. it’s polite, and you’re a polite young girl.

he crowds your space before you’d even gotten them off, looming over you when you place the limp hanging fabric into his outstretched palm. he’s insatiable and he hasn’t pushed it far enough, so with his other hand he hungrily approaches once more. “yeah uh, look. m’washing all the delicates here so uhh… i’m gonna need…” he lowers his tone into a raspy drawl as a hand disappears up the hem of your dress to find the waistband of your panties, rubbing a thumb between the space that connected your skin and lace. he wishes he could play the shudder you let out on repeat. “these.”

you make no move to remove them, so being the kindhearted citizen that rafe cameron notoriously is— he stares right down into your eyes as he pulls them down for you slowly, lowering himself just enough so you can step out of them. “theres a good girl.” he praises and somehow it feels dirty and rude. you frown, because you hate the way it makes you clench around nothing though you knew he was somehow probably insulting you. he’s smirking obnoxiously when he backs up, looking down at the girly panties in his hand before walking out.

and of course he does wash them for you, but not after he’s jerked himself raw into the lace of your gusset.

another day rafe is around at the house, this time helping your mother with things regarding this magical cross that held the cure to her illness. it almost felt too good to be true, and you knew for a fact rafe felt that way too — but you defended her with each slight remark he’d make about it, as you felt it was your duty. who were you to believe rafe cameron over the lord himself?

one of limbreys wealthy friends arrives bearing gifts, and hands you holy water from a far away church she visited on her travels. it was packaged in a glittering cross bottle, and you marvelled at its beauty— vowing to save it for when you really felt you needed it.

of course, rafe had already come up with ways to mess with you regarding the gift. the two of you are left alone in the living room while your mother fills her friend in on all the exciting life updates she had to share.

“you know, uh— the most effective way to feel god… inside you and stuff, is to ingest the holy water.” rafe wanders around the table to you casually, reaching and gently grasping the bottle in your hand. “give it.” he orders quietly and you let go on instinct, turning to look at him.

“thats mine.” you argue and he scoffs out a chuckle at your childishness as he uncaps the lid.

“cant believe you didn’t know this.”

“thats not how holy water works, you’re just making things up.” your voice raises in pitch as you watch him pour some into the lid like he was pouring a shot of vodka. your brows are all pinched and he thinks it’s adorable how worked up you get about these things.

“yeah?” he smirks, dipping two fingers into the water before setting it down to grasp your jaw with his hand, gently prying it open. “open.” he demands, and once more you can’t help it. weak in the knees, you fall submissive to his commands and open your mouth, feeling the liquid coating your tongue through his coarse fingers. he rubs your tongue in circles and you suck off the water, hating any to go to waste. your eyes flutter like his touch is addictive.

he’s enjoying himself too much, dips his fingers again and stuffs them back in— and you’re just as hungry, grasping his wrist and letting out a greedy little groan as he strokes your tongue and stuffs his digits further until you gag. there’s drool on your chin and he’s chuckling now, giving it one last go before he’s pulling back to the sound of approaching footsteps. he doesn’t seem as frantic as you when you’re wiping your mouth free of drool, in fact— he openly laughs. “bet you feel Him in you now, huh?”

the final straw comes when the ever trusting limbrey asks rafe to stay with you whilst she’s off chasing whatever with big john routledge. you’d already told her you didn’t need a babysitter — coming up with just about every excuse to not be left alone with the cameron boy. you weren’t scared of what he’d do, no — he was predictable. you knew what he had planned. you were scared that you’d give in, unable to resist temptation.

only three days in and he’s cracked you, something about him having spoken to a priest who told rafe to pass on the message that you must cure him of his devious ways by sharing your body with him. it sounds bad when it’s put simply like that, but it was a whole thing — rafe can be super persuasive. you started off in outright refusal, but he kept chipping away at you until he was slowly approaching you with a trusting smile and a hand undoing his thick leather belt, and soon you were mushy in the brain. too mushy to deny him any longer.

before the end of the week he’s got you brainless and well trained, milking him of every last drop of the devil until you’re limp on the bed — legs over his shoulders. you were doing this for him. you were doing this for him.

plap, plap, plap — the sound of your sticky walls swallowing his cock with each full thrust harmonises perfectly with the sound of each creak your wooden bed frame makes. you’d never heard your bed make so much noise, probably because it’s never seen so much activity in your whole life. rafes above you now, hands gripping on your tits and rolling his thumbs over the nipples and you truly can’t see how that’s supposed to be helpful to the cause— but can’t bring yourself to care with how good it feels.

you’ve made a milky ring around his tip, so soaked with your own completion from his relentless thrusting that it’s created a puddle beneath your ass on the bed. you couldn’t believe yourself, if your mother could see you now she would surely disown you.

“ra—rafey!” you hiccup, grasping at his broad shoulders when it gets all too much.

“yeah— hey, shut up okay? you’re okay.” he pants, trying his hardest to be sweet and keep up the act still, quickly silencing you by cupping your clammy cheek and slowing down his thrusts. “you’re fine.”

“this isn’t right.” you’re incoherent, and it takes rafe a moment to figure out what you even said.

“oh yeah?” he asks, uninterested as he rolls his hips. he glances up at you, lips parted and wet from your greedy kisses. “that why you just locked your legs round me? huh?” he teases, carelessly and you whine, throwing your head back petulantly.

“uh huh. y’know why you get so — so fuckin’ wet? huh? s’because you’ve been holding out on me. why the hell would god create this fuckin’ perfect body if it wasn’t meant to be used by me, huh? answer me that.”

“i cant!” you cry, no— sob, because you couldn’t argue. rafe was too clever for your arguments, a rebuttal to every worry in your head. it still felt wrong and dirty, but yet you clung to him— indulging in your pleasure as you fall hopelessly towards another orgasm from the way his pelvis scrapes your exposed clit.

“shit… yeah, y’cant.” he’s close too— and when he leans down close to you, he wraps his fingers around the glittering cross necklace that lies against your breast, lifting it and pressing a kiss to the centre, before bringing it to your own lips. you weakly kiss it, struggling to keep your eyes open on his and he hums in approval, dropping his hands back down either side of your head to work on fucking you quicker. “should be worshipping me, kid.” he speaks between grit teeth.

you think he might be right.

[nymphbnny]

brat in pink I

────── toji fushiguro

⤷ mom’s bf!toji who can’t keep his eyes of you and your little slutty behavior at the small pool party you threw at your house.

tw: age gap (20s ; 40s) , toji is dating your mom (step cest??), corruption kink, daddy kink, starts as hcs, dun con, size kink, jealousy, filming (slightly), doggy, riding, squirting, breeding kink, spanking, slight dacryphilia, slapping, not proofread (wrote this at work lol), MDNI

part I - part II

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚mom’s bf!toji who grunts in annoyance when you beg your mom to let you throw a party in your house to celebrate your twenty first birthday. as much as he tries to look away, he can’t stop gazing at your pretty perky tits that are bouncing as you jump around following your mother.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚mom’s bf!toji who listens to the people you want to invite to your pool, his jaw clenching each time to mention a boy. especially when you mention gojo a light blush dusting your cheeks.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚mom’s bf!toji who is lowkey pissed that your mother finally agreed to your pleas, having to watch you dance around half naked in front of other men. he’s even angrier when he’s left all alone to supervise you since your mom will be away for a few days.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚mom’s bf!toji who balls his fist and glares at you when you start taking sexy picture in your small pink bikini, your ass and tits almost out as you pose sultry for the camera. he is pissed that you are taking more pleasure seeking the dumb young boys’ attention around you than focusing on having his. although you did.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚mom’s bf!toji who watches you closely as you dance against the white haired man, his hand dipping in your flesh as he sheepishly whispers in your ear. you catch him staring, a weird feeling rushing through your core as his eyes gaze at you, the goosebumps on your skin rising.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚mom’s bf!toji who makes up an excuse about how some chemicals got in the pool so all your invitees would leave. “i’m so sorry,” you repeated as they left, an understanding grin on their face. as gojo went to kiss you goodbye, toji stood next to you, pulling you closer to him. the young man took the hint as he stayed away, waving at you before leaving.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚mom’s bf!toji who silently watches you pick which picture looks better to post it on your feed. “you’re not clothed enough.” was his response when you went to him to have his opinion.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚mom’s bf!toji who wants to teach you a lesson about being a good girl instead of spreading half naked pictures of yourself for the world to see. he should only be the one to see them.

“daddy…” you whined as his hips rutted against your ass, his grip on your hip hardening at the nickname. toji threw his head back, watching you bury your flushed face between your plushies as he fucked you on your pink sheets. “daddy’s so mad at you for acting like a dirty brat, fhuck,” he grunted, pushing at your lower back to deepen your arch, your tiny cunt feeling tighter. “you’re gonna suffocate me, shit,”

toji was gripping your hands behind your back, pulling you up to play with your pretty nipples, occasionally pinching them to hear you yelp in pain, then bring you down again to keep thrusting hard. “‘m gonna ruin you for any other guy, especially that gojo,” hearing his words make you clench on him harder, the doubt and shame you had about fucking your mother’s boyfriend now gone. “you’re squeezing me baby, is it because i mentioned his name?” he harshly barks, spanking your plump ass. you whined and yelped, your lashes glossy as you try to push him away by wiggling your hips.

“nuh uh, no running from me,” he chuckled, his scar turning up with his lip as he grabbed your hair to pull your head up, your moans and tears turning him on even more. “i clenched because o-of you daddy,” you whimpered, your submissive self delighting him, his hips moving at a slower yet deeper pace. toji smirked before pulling out, a small whine leaving your lips as you were left to throb around nothing, you tiny hole clenching. it was adorably filthy. he was ruining you and he loved it. you heard him grab something before you saw a flash, realizing he was recording. “since you love looking like a whore,” he muttered, rubbing your ass before spanking it. “might as well get it on film.” he laughed, pulling you back on his swollen tip, his girth stretching you all at once.

“n-no, wait!!” you tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen. he pounded into faster, your body acting the opposite of your words as you found yourself throwing yourself back on him to meet him half thrust. “such a dirty brat,” he squeezed your ass, his hand going around your waist to rub your clit. “so good,” you lulled out your tongue, eyes half lidded. he pulled his sticky hair back before bringing your body up. his thumb pressed against your tongue, opening your mouth even more before taunting you: “who else can make you stick out your tongue like a filthy slut huh? who?” he bit your neck, your whines accentuating as he stimulated your clit, your orgasm close.

“just you, no one else b-but you daddy, i wanna cum,” you cried, your head heavy as you threw it back on his shoulder. you went limp. his hips pounded you faster before throwing you back on the bed, your legs spread out as you gushed on your bed, squirting and making a mess on your pink sheets, your pretty pussy quivering.

“cum for daddy that’s it, make a mess baby,” he stroked his cock as he watched you go dumb, slapping your pussy a few times just to watch you shake. he ended the recording, smiling at the video before throwing his phone away.

“we’re not done yet sweetheart, up.” you whined as he handled you, turning you around to kiss you lips, his tongue parting your lips to deepen the kiss. he sat on the bed next to you, pulling you to his hard cock, slamming you on top of him. you whimpered against his lips as he fucked up into you, his hands digging into your hips, hoping his fingerprints would replace gojo’s. “he’ll never be able to fuck you like this. hear me?” he slightly slapped your cheek then grabbed your jaw to make you look at him, your face fucked out. he was fucking dumb and you were becoming incoherent. the only thing that was coming out of your mouth were the whines and moans as he sucked on your tits the while he slammed your small pussy.

you were so small compared to him, so easy to hold, to fuck and to manipulate. you were so easy to corrupt and he was enjoying every second of it. “daddy, ‘s big, so big,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. toji held on your hands to guide it to your lower stomach, making your feel his depth. “daddy’s here baby,” the overstimulation made you moan, you legs bucking uncontrollably as your second orgasm hit you.

“know what, fucking hell, you feel so good baby, so fucking tight, my cock’s gonna stretch you so good,”

“gonna breed you, so no one else can touch you, huh? what’d you say,” he chuckled as he slammed a few more times inside you, emptying his heavy load inside you. your insides felt warm and good as his cum filled you up, your head too heavy to even react to what was going on.

you woke up the next day on new sheets and naked on your bed. you grabbed your phone to find an airdrop message. you gasped when you saw the video that toji took from you last night, your thighs squeezing as you recalled how his fat cock felt inside you. shamelessly, you airdropped him back a well taken picture of you spread out on your bed, biting your nails and pussy puffy. it didn’t take him a lot to come rushing through your bedroom door to ruin you again.