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marisatomay · 5 months

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Actually, I think that homophobes in Congress wanted to find a way to criminalize being gay well before a twink got fucked on camera in a Senate hearing room and the video was released to conservative media as an act of revenge porn because the staffer in question told a genocidal and homophobic congressman “Free Palestine” to his face.

There are rapists on the US Supreme Court and I’m supposed to clutch my pearls over two men having consensual sex in the Senate? Oh! Heavens to Betsy! The first time sex acts have been committed in a government building! Are the shades of Congress to be thus polluted?

But, for the record, no amount of sanitizing your sex life or sanding down of your LGBT edges will make bigots accept you. So, don’t debase yourself by capitulating an inch to them, especially in ways that throw your fellow community members under the bus.

#not people in the comments thinking I was serious about believing this was the first sex act in a government building #i was alive during the Clinton admin folks lol

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b0tster · 11 months

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me after 3 days of progesterone

#bunlith #become sex #this took way too much work LOL #worth it tho sfhsfh

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eddiethehunted · 2 months

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i LOVE fics where eddie’s like “i’m a virgin… nobody wants to fuck me EVER… i’m a bitchless loser… never even had my first kiss… woe is me😔” and steve, vibrating with poorly restrained lust, is like “so i have this crazy idea”

#steddie #‘we should have sex right now. as friends.’#and eddie is like oh is that- that’s a thing you want to do?#and steve is like ‘yeah. you know to help a friend out. lol’#NO ONE IS BUYING IT STEVEN. YOUR DICK HAS BEEN HARD SINCE THE BIG BOY COMMENT

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ghouljams · 5 months

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König would be so good as a period buddy :(

He's got those huge hands and I bet he just radiates heat, he'd massage your back while you lay on him, he'd press his hand against your stomach to try and soothe the cramps. He'd be so attentive, he was raised by his mutter to be a good boy and this is important good boy activities :( fetching heating pads, candy, easy food when your hormones fuck up your appetite, soup and tea. König would just coo at you each time you whined, he hates seeing you hurting but you're so cute and needy :(

He'd love period sex. You're so squirmy and embarrassed, but you're so hot on his tongue and you make such pretty sounds for him. There's something dark and possessive that growls with pleasure seeing your blood on his cock, feeling you tremble and cry because your hormones are running wild. You're just so cute! You're adorable, he just wants to eat you up. Maybe he will, he's already got you basically confined to bed. Why ever let you anywhere else after this?

#cod x reader #x reader #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig #f!reader #könig x f!reader #afab!reader #tw periods #period sex #i am in so much pain lol #ghoul is very sick rn

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televisionforwhales · 10 months

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Some ppl are like "I'm a kinky sex-positive pervert freak!!!" and then make fun of virgins and asexuals..... sure, reclaim freakiness but keep working on that because teasing ppl for their sex lives (or lack thereof) is, unfortunately, very normie mainstream vanilla behaviour. the right to sexual determination includes NOT having sex. 101 shit. Like this isnt subversive dude, it's using the edge of an ideology for bullying

#def made this post before but it happens again and again and again #having a couple of bad encounters with homophobic or sex shaming or cringe ace ppl is no excuse. do the work #bodily autonomy no matter how uncool you think someone is #(again not that it matters but some of the kinkiest people i know are ace lol mind boggling I know)#happy pride to asexuals 😘😘

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tired-biscuit · 8 months

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when the kisses are getting so messy that you’re literally almost devouring each other, and you’re both in such a hurry to get out of your clothes that he’s unbuckling his belt with those big, strong hands; almost fumbling with it from how fast and desperate he is at trying to get it out of the way.

you’re latching onto his neck when you at long last hear the audible clink! and it nearly makes you shiver. because that means that his cock is finally gonna come out to play and that he’s finally gonna push you down and rail the ever sweet life out of you after waiting for so long.

it’s just pure thrill and excitement. you’re practically buzzing with it.

#i’m kinda thinking about besties finally succumbing to their wants and desires #and just having the best sex of their life tbh #sorry i’m just having thoughts #and i have such a thing for belts lol

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irl-simon-riley · 12 days

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tw: sexual assault mention (not really explicit but just in case)

not enough people talk about Ghost being a victim of SA and it makes me so sad. IT'S LITERALLY SHOWN ON PAGE IN THE COMICS YOU CANNOT DENY THAT IT HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!

the comics were published 2009 when most media wouldn't even touch on male SA victims unless it was to make fun of them. we don't even get many empathetic portrayals of it in recent years!!! (whether the perpetrator is a man or woman). Ghost is quite literally the first good male ID'd SA victim rep I've seen in a piece of media that I enjoy.

it also shows disassociation (not dissociation) by having Ghost literally separate Simon Riley from himself. He tells his backstory by pretending it happened to someone else and calling Simon Riley an "old friend" of his that died.

he is so special and important to me

#you can guess why my blog is themed around him based off of this post lol #tw sex assault #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw comics #simon “ghost” riley #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley

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vaguely-concerned · 1 month

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So much of Garak as a person starts to make sense once you know his childhood was a fucking gothic novel. His main playground was a graveyard and he'd play pretend by perfoming improv eulogies to an imagined audience. For a long time his main touchstone for most important figures from recent history is 'oh yeah I know about that guy my dad buried him. great flower arrangements for that one'. He finds out later his 'parents' are actually a brother and sister who had to get married to avoid the utter shame and social devastation of having a child born out of wedlock, and they live in the basement of his biological father's house. (the madwoman in the attic vs. the tiny elim in the basement.) His biological father calls himself his uncle and locks him in a closet whenever he fails to live up to his insane and unpredictable expectations and everyone just has to act like that's normal and expected, and his will hangs over everything at all times, unseen but always felt keener than anything else. The father who actually raised him grows the world's most beautiful (and as it turns out, most poisonous) orchids and keeps the mask of a god hidden in a box in his work shed. Everyone in the house is choking down secrets like it's the only air they know how to breathe anymore.

What I'm saying is that right from the get-go this guy never had the faintest shot at turning out normal, so I'm glad that by middle age he's found a way to get a bit silly with it as he continues to be deeply deeply not normal about anything ever <3

#guess who's reading a stitch in time!#star trek ds9 #elim garak #a stitch in time #star trek #ds9 #I will make a monster post of asit thoughts eventually but just. jesus christ!!! what a start in life lmao #tolan and tain seem to have been... well not exactly friends probably but to have had some connection beforehand #did tain know him or mila first??? how was mila and tolan's sibling status presumably not known publicly?#at what point during all of that did tain start to have sex with tolan's sister. the more you think about it the more fucked it gets lol #under the circumstances... shoutout to tolan and mila for not leaving him somehow even more fucked up interpersonally than he is #and no thanks to tain for anything ever I hate him so much

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inkskinned · 5 months

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you have to be sexy but you have to be sexy in a way that's kind of bloody. you learn this early because you are wearing a ruffled skirt and the snow around your ankles kicks little sand particles against your calves. baby's first catcall. welcome to sexiness! welcome to the eyesore of your own body!

you have to be sexy like high heels. like sculpted eyebrows. like lean stomach and highly treated hair. you have to be sexy like youth is sexy, which means you have to be sexy like boxtox and plastic. a 30 year old can be sexy but she's not going to be bloody, and they like the bloodiness of it. a 30 year old is sexy when she is a whiskey glass and a wooden desk.

but you need to be sexy like an open mouth. you need to be sexy like a bitten apple. like plucked skin and white-knuckling the waxing kit.

so sex is a performance, not an enjoyment. for a while, you just assumed everyone else was also in on the joke - nobody actually likes sex that much, right? like, some men probably do, but why would you? it is like a gender - your gender is sexy. your gender is the performance of sex. you are thigh highs and garter belts. which, to be fair, do make you feel sexy.

part of what does make sex good is that you can tell that other people want you, which means the performance of sexiness is both bloody and wanted, which is good, which means you are winning at having a body. being wanted is the prize. being wanted is the thing you are searching for, not hope. you think you are looking for a soft grave in easy loam, but that is bloody but not sexy. to be sexy you must be bloody like a red open sign. bloody like a handprint. this will make you wanted.

any wanted or unwanted body is subject to supply and demand, which is to say that the more demand, the better you are valued. you must be highly demanded to be valued. this is stated in matter-of-fact by some men. sometimes it is a priest that says it, and sometimes it is a podcaster, and sometimes it is the 45th president of the united states of america.

(if you do not have any experience with being told your value, i want you to grab the nearest bird to you and i want you to crush it into a thin paste in your hand. spit into the center, and then hold your fingers closed tight around it for days and days, long after the rot has set in. feel bones itch inside of your fist. this is only a fraction of what it actually feels like, but it will suffice for a moment.)

good sex feels like you have earned their desperation. you have earned your own value. for a while you operated under the understanding that everyone knew about the power structure, even him. that their desire to take you - the violence of it - means that you must desire to be caught. little prince, guardian fox - you would rather have cut your own arm off. you liked the secret, cunning little voice you keep tucked into a box. you think you are fucking me. i am not even here right now. you are fucking what i conned you into perceiving. this is a painting, not a person. dominion over the body before all things.

so you bend your body like a wheat shaft and learn the steps so perfectly that it almost seems graceful. (if you do not have experience faking your own connection to your body and sexuality, cut each of your articles of clothing just a little bit incorrectly. pour fishbones into each of your meals. this way, you will experience the average noon on a tuesday.)

you have to be sexy like light spilled over a desk, but not desperate. not a noose. you can't be sexy like an electric guitar, you are the acoustic. you have to be on top of the bull but you can't have control over the animal.

okay, okay. the little rabbit of your heart went to sleep so long ago that winter has ravaged your concept of the human soul. there's something very-bad inside you, something that has taken over, a little fetid and rabid animal, angry and hurting and willing to bite first.

oh but even that's a pain that's sexy. open your mouth. be careful not to let the canines show.

#spilled ink #writeblr #warm up #the reason i tag warm up on so much is bc often i write them between me doing other things so im mostly telling myself to come back and edi #bc i rarely have time to check for typos lol #this is partially about compulsory heterosexuality btw #and why it took me so long to realize im a lesbian #i just assumed sex wasn't really supposed to be that good #been reading feminist lit and u can always tell

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zarameraki · 4 months

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♡₊˚🔪・₊✧ 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝘁. 𝟭₊˚🔪・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 obsessed at the first glance 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 masturbation (toji time) 𖥔 "she's mine even if she doesn't know it yet" 𖥔 age gap 𖥔 he's downright depraved for you

: ̗̀➛ word count: 3.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: happy new year, mamas! and happy belated birthday to my baby daddy. y'all have no idea how fun it is to write toji fics. i've got a hundred already lined up. i'm going to make this a full series but for now here is part one of what's about to come (haha get it? oh god. i need help)

The first time Toji laid his eyes on you was the morning after he’d finished yet another one of his assassination cases.

There you were, seated on a picnic mat, a serene oasis in the bustling sea of activity. The wind danced through your hair, and you were engrossed in a book, your legs tucked comfortably beneath you. The music in your headphones created a private sanctuary, shielding you from the cacophony of playful children, picnicking families, and the vibrant hum of the city's summer.

Toji found himself rooted to the spot.

Oblivious to the annoyed cyclists and the world rushing past him, he stood there, captivated. It was as though he had stumbled upon a deity crafted solely for him.

You briefly raised your gaze, taking a momentary break from the confines of the small text.

Toji couldn't believe his luck as he found himself mesmerized by the tantalizing sight before him. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, a telltale bulge in his sweatpants betrayed the mark you had on him. There you were, blissfully unaware, sipping from a water bottle that seemed almost rehearsed.

His fixation deepened as he observed every nuance of your movements—the curve of your mouth, the delicate way your throat accommodated the liquid, and the small hands that gripped the oversized bottle. He imagined his cock instead and flinched from the way his dick twitched. The simple act of you licking your lower lip and unbuttoning the top buttons of your dress shirt to fan yourself from the heat sent shivers down his spine.

You just had to start tying your hair up.

Taking a deep breath, Toji briskly walked towards a nearby public restroom and locked himself in one of the vacant stalls.

His back pressed against the wall as he lowered his sweatpants and pulled his thick, trembling cock out, pre-cum trickling from the tip. He lowered his eyes and visualized you on your knees, grabbing his cock and circling your small, pink tongue around his tip. His head cruised back as you swallowed his length to the back of your warm throat, gagging, gasping, choking, bobbing your head back and forth. His fingers tightly held onto your tender scalp, fucking himself into your pretty, little mouth until your nose was crushed against his pelvis. He heard you begging, pleading, scratching at his hips to give you a breather, but Toji relentlessly fed you his cock, over and over and over—

Spurts of release erupted and splattered onto the stall's wall, with droplets dripping onto the floor. Toji opened his eyes only to find the space where your apparition was supposed to linger now empty. His hand was sticky and hot, smudged in the mess he’d made envisioning you. You. It was you who had provoked this intense response, causing him to reach a climax faster than ever before.

As Toji cleaned himself up, he couldn't ignore the unabashed stares from the onlookers, men who had clearly overheard him masturbating. Ignoring the judgmental gazes, he focused on formulating a plan to claim you, even if you fought or opposed it; he was convinced that, in time, you would surrender.

In his mind, you were already his.

Toji lingered for the next few hours on that park bench, focused on you. His eyes traced every move you made, absorbed in that stupid book of yours, oblivious to the frisbees and kites dancing above you. His gaze burned into the teenage boys engaged in soccer behind you, fuming as they carelessly neared you with the ball. Especially the one you beamed at after he half-heartedly apologized to you.

Fuck, that smile of yours was irreplaceable.

As you packed your mat into the duffle bag and rose, turning to dust your ass off from any debris sticking to it, Toji's thoughts took a blunt turn. Sleep was an impossibility now.

Following discreetly as you strolled down the path, immersed in the rhythm of your ear-throbbing music, Toji couldn't help but dissect every inch of you. Your clothes, undoubtedly high-end and branded, spoke volumes. The price tag on your headphones alone easily flirted with seven hundred dollars, if not more. It was clear—you came from a life of comfort, perhaps a spoiled heir or held a proud position in some grand corporation. You were proving to be a challenging prize, a fish that refused to be easily caught.

You decided to take a pit stop at a vegan café where they charged an arm and a leg for a tiny cup of espresso.

Patiently, Toji lingered outside, cigarette dangling from his lips, the ember casting shadows on his sharp features. Peering through the glass, he caught glimpses of your animated conversation with a male barista. Though, the bastard's eyes were shamelessly speaking to your cleavage.

Toji hadn’t killed anyone for fun in a while; maybe the lanky fucker was going to start a new streak.

As you emerged, holding your iced coffee and muffin like some divine offering, he noticed the scribbles on the napkin. Ah, the barista's number, huh? The son-of-a-bitch just signed his own death warrant.

With a flick of your wrist, you crumpled the napkin and tossed it into the trash, conveniently placed right next to him.

Your eyes locked.

The cigarette in Toji's mouth hung suspended in a moment that seemed to stretch forever. Your gaze shot up as you took in the powerful physique of the man, the scar tracing its path on his left lip, and the black, sleek strands of hair framing those perilous, obsidian-green eyes. He was more than just attractive; he was a magnetic force, and you could feel the tingling of anxiety dancing on your skin. Too bad your family had always drummed into you the importance of polished over rugged.

Despite the internal turmoil, you turned on your heel and continued walking, nonchalantly sipping on your cold coffee to ease the tension building within you. There was an undeniable urge to steal one last glance at him, an itch in your brain pushing you to do so. With feigned composure, you added an extra sway to your hips, aware that his eyes were still on you.

Toji’s eyes were glued to your ass. Was he breathing? Nope. He was sure he’d busted his cover just then. You had checked him out for thirty whole seconds, the opportunity to speak suspended in the air, only to be pulled apart and crumble at his feet.

But he didn’t care.

He shadowed your every move, navigating through busy intersections, seamlessly blending into the teeming masses, keeping up with only the sway of your swinging ponytail and your ass. Fuck, he loved your ass. He wanted to spank it red, bruise the flesh for teasing you.

Finally, you stepped into the most luxurious hotel in the city.

Toji wondered if you were a local or a visitor from abroad. If he had to purchase a plane ticket to tail you back to your residence, he'd gladly do it. It was insane how unknowingly you had him trapped, wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.

The lobby was nothing short of fucking fancy.

The place was decked out with marble floors that shone so much he could almost see his reflection. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling with a zillion crystals.

The furniture was all plush and comfortable, like sinking into a cloud. Big, ornate couches and chairs scattered around, all in rich, deep colors.

In the middle was a fancy concierge desk with people in sharp suits and friendly smiles ready to help out. He caught a whiff of some subtle, expensive scent in the air—not too overpowering, just enough to make him feel like he was out of place.

There was a low hum of activity—people chatting, the clinking of glasses from the bar nearby, maybe some soft piano music in the background. He couldn't help but feel a bit important just standing there like he'd stepped into a world where everything was a little more polished and refined.

He was in hell.

"Dad!" you exclaimed, striding towards your father amidst a crowd of his guards and members of the family hotel enterprise board.

"Darling!" Your father embraced you briefly, then caught a whiff of something unusual around you. "Were you smoking?"

Shit.

That attractive stranger from before had been smoking and the scent must’ve stuck to your clothes.

"I bumped into a friend who was," you lied, acknowledging your father's associates with a nod. Your current appearance didn't exactly match the polished image your mother presented to the press, but it was a facet appreciated by some online fans. As the heiress to the family hotel, however, you understood the importance of maintaining grace.

Even on your days-off.

"How was your meeting?" you asked.

"Same old, same old. Nothing for you to worry about," he replied dismissively.

"I mean, shouldn't I be involved? I'm almost twenty-one. It might be time for me to learn the ropes of managing—"

"I'm still around, aren't I?" Your father pushed your arm, causing you to stagger slightly. "Why don't you go freshen up now? We have a family dinner tonight." Family dinners, in this case, were elaborate affairs with your father and mother's vast social circles, almost a societal event. Unfortunately, everything was hosted at the hotel, making you feel like you were in a gilded cage.

"Sure, Dad."

He planted a quick kiss on your cheek and walked past you.

You stared at his retreating figure and the group of men you would eventually be working with, all of them vanishing through the hotel's automatic doors until the lights surrounding you became a blur. Your fingers touched your wet eyes, the back of your shaky hand wiping at your cheeks.

Despite the hurt, your training to act classy in public kicked in. You rolled back your shoulders, attempted a smile, and walked toward the elevators leading to your personal suite.

Observing the unfolding scenario from a discreet vantage point nearby, Toji, with arms and ankles casually crossed, wore a devilish smirk at how effortlessly the situation had played into his hands.

His room was on the twelfth floor.

It served as a temporary base for the two nights he had planned to stay. Plenty of time, in his calculation, to claim you as his own. He walked the fine line between confidence and cockiness, especially when dealing with a woman of your caliber. If he were to leave empty-handed, Toji carried a darkness within that would annihilate those you loved, a merciless flood of destruction until you had no choice but to turn to him. His sights were set on you, beginning with your pretentious father.

Yes, Toji had researched each and every single human associated with you.

Your father was a titan in the hospitality game and built an empire that stretched across the map. His hotels sprouted like mushrooms, and his wealth skyrocketed faster than you could say "check-in." He portrayed himself as the picture-perfect family man, but lurking in the shadows were dealings that'd make you think twice about tagging him with the 'daddy dear' label. During one of his many interviews, he let slip a desire for a son. When the inevitable talk of you inheriting the hotels surfaced, he'd chuckle, saying, "We'll see about that."

Toji absentmindedly toyed with his pocket knife, thinking of ways he’d cut your father’s tongue and shove it down his throat.

Then there's your mom, the classic trophy wife. No accomplishments to her name, just born into a world of idle gossip and social climbing. Since you were in diapers, she's been molding you into the picture-perfect daughter for the public eye. Nannies raised you, and she only paid attention when it came to playing matchmaker, setting you up with aristocratic jerks.

Toji might spare your mother only because she was an airhead being puppeteered by your father’s gimmicks.

You, on the contrary, were as perfect as one could get. Top of your class all through elementary to high school, currently enrolled in a business Ivy program at a prestigious university, president of the student union, and an active team player in clubs as absurd as juggling.

Your carefully crafted social media presence had Toji rolling his eyes. An avid reader who probably devoured Shakespeare in between saving the world and a lover of sunsets because nothing said depth like a passion for the fading light. Your commitment to wildlife, starting a charity for animals in captivity that was funded strictly by your family's friends. He bet the lions and tigers sent you thank-you cards.

Toji forcefully closed his laptop, took a deep breath, and sank into his mattress, gripping the roots of his hair.

He knew he wanted you. He wanted to touch you, to be inside of you, to break you and put you together again. The image of you being pushed by your father played in his mind, making his heart threaten to burst from his chest.

Despite the depraved thoughts, Toji was genuinely curious about you. The real you. The person seeking love in the same way you offered it to others. He wanted to fuck you but also take great care of you. He wanted to make you cry, but only when you were underneath him, begging for more. He’d kill himself if he hurt you otherwise. He questioned if a dormant monster within you waiting to be awakened by his own.

There had to be.

And he would be the one to root it out.

Toji pulled himself together, took a quick shower, and threw on the best outfit he had found in his cramped closet within his even more cramped apartment while packing. Living in close quarters didn't bother him; after all, his income came from a rather unconventional source—he was a professional assassin, taking out targets for clients that ranged from politicians to drug dealers. Penthouses and sports cars weren't his style, even if he could afford them; he preferred the simple life, spending most of his earnings on one thing he enjoyed the most: gambling on horse racing.

Knowing that you'd be at the bar, Toji decided to do a bit of reconnaissance. He hacked into the private security servers of the hotel, observing your movements from the corridor to the public areas. He saw you leaving your room in a stunning maroon gown, hair elegantly pinned up, and lips painted a vibrant red. His dick jerked in his trousers.

He spotted you alone at the bar, enjoying a cyan-colored drink. The smooth expanse of your back in that revealing dress nearly made him come in his pants right there and then.

Cracking his neck muscles, Toji walked up to the bartender, positioning himself about two meters away from where you sat. He pulled out a cigarette and flicked the silver lighter, flaming the end of the dart. Drawing in the first drag, he exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’ll take a whiskey.”

Giving you a casual once-over, Toji noticed you tracing circles on the table, lips in a pout, and eyes blinking languidly.

“Rough day?” he asked, settling into the seat beside you.

“You have no idea—” You looked sideways and met the dark green eyes of the attractive stranger. Your nails were now idle on the table, and you sat up straight. A breath caught in your chest, and you greeted him with a simple "Hi."

“Hi.” He pulled out the cigarette to take a sip, lips pulling in to savor the sharp taste of his whiskey. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetheart.”

Your chest skipped a beat at the unexpected nickname. "I-I— Are you stalking me or something?"

“Stalking is a strong word, doll. I prefer 'casual observation.'”

“So you’re stalking me?”

The stranger chuckled, and your knees quivered from the husky, rough sound. “You're a vision, sure,” he said, his voice a slight victim to the smoking, “but I’m too much of a gentleman to do such a thing.”

You observed his clothes closely. He was dressed in a sleek black formal ensemble with impeccably shiny Oxfords. However, his hair was neatly combed down instead of styled up, and you caught the silver hoop adorning his left ear. The idea of him being sent by your mother or being the son of one of your father's friends quickly crossed your mind, but you ruled out the possibility. Maybe him being outside that café and being here was a complete coincidence.

“The name’s Toji.” He extended his hand for a shake. You glanced at the faded scars on the back of his hands. And when you hesitantly slipped your hand through his, the roughness of his palm rubbed against your softer one. “Ever washed a dish in your life, sweetheart?”

A shake of your head was all the admission he needed.

"Yeah, figured as much." Toji turned your hand, his thumb tracing a journey along its unblemished terrain.

You quickly took back your hand and placed it on your lap. “I’m sure you know my name.”

Toji tilted his head. “Am I supposed to?”

You blinked. In a world where your family name echoed through the corridors of the hotel, his genuine ignorance was a rarity. "I'm Y/N.”

"Y/N," he echoed, your name a lazy caress on your skin. Above the rim of his nearly empty glass, he regarded you with a watchful gaze. “The fuck is that, anyway? Windex?”

You raised your drink. “It’s a mocktail. I have a family dinner in an hour so I can’t drink. My father says it’ll impede my ability to talk. I can’t mess anything up.”

He half-rolled his eyes. “You like Coke?”

“Like, the soda?”

"What else, sweetheart?" He swiped a finger under his nose, throwing in a wink. "Unless that's your thing."

“No.” Your cheeks heated. “I like diet Coke, I suppose.”

Toji locked eyes with you and signaled the bartender. "Vodka diet coke for the lady."

"What?" You started to object, but Toji's hand clasped around your forearm, freezing you. “Remove your hand right now.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin playing on his lips. If he weren't so irritatingly charming, you might have considered introducing your mocktail to his face with a quick call to security as a chaser. “Just don’t want you to die knowing you never tried vodka.” His cheeks hollowed as he inhaled, exhaling wisps of smoke that danced in captivating swirls. “Ever smoked?”

You shook your head, a coy resistance to his vices obvious on your face. "It's detrimental to your health, you know. Consistent smoking can fast-track your journey to an early death. If you're aiming for more than thirty candles on your birthday cake, I'd advise a little moderation."

A sardonic chuckle escaped him. “Well, fuck.” He inspected the dart in his hand as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Guess I missed the invitation for my funeral five years ago.”

He’s old.

“Too old for you, sweetheart?” He dipped his head conspiratorially, locking eyes with you. "Hope you're not collecting a set of daddy issues like souvenirs."

You shot him sidelong glances, a subtle shake of your head. "I happen to like my dad, thank you very much."

“You’re welcome.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small puff of a laugh at his response.

He shot you a grin, his scar stealing a moment of your attention before the vodka diet Coke presented itself. “You still in school?”

You nodded. “University.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Keeps me distracted.”

“From?”

Your hand swept through the ambience of the hotel's bar, and Toji followed your motion, absorbing the surroundings. “I don’t know if my name rang a bell at all, but I’m to inherit this place.”

“Didn’t.” Toji raised his glass, gesturing his chin at the vodka diet coke in front of you. “Let’s drink to it.”

“I told you I can’t. I’m also lightweight. Besides, I don’t want it on my tab. My father keeps a check—”

“My father this, my father that.” Toji sighed, taking your drink and snagging a straw from a nearby container. He placed it near your lips. “Your father might have set the stage, but he can't dictate the play. Take a sip. If you hate it, fuck it. That work for you, sweetheart?"

You frowned at the subtle pressure venting from him. A fleeting swipe of your tongue traced your lower lip, drawing Toji's gaze to the subtle curve. His intense scrutiny left you feeling strangely singled out, a rare occurrence in a world where every tidbit of your life laid at the fingertips of anyone with an internet connection. Your secrets were a vault locked tight, shared with no one but yourself. Indulging in personal interests took a back seat to your responsibilities, and you strictly stuck to a scripted persona to protect your family's reputation. Even something as mundane as sipping on a vodka diet Coke.

Toji set the drink on the table, slipping a generous tip to the bartender. His financial status seemed modest, likely someone comfortably positioned enough to book a room in your hotel. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t often give out advice ‘cuz frankly, I'm not exactly an expert on your generation.” He took a final drag of his cigarette, extinguished it under his foot, and nonchalantly dropped the remains into your drink. “But, you might want to dust off that brilliant little brain of yours sooner rather than later. Mind passing me a pen, buddy?”

The tender handed him a sharpie instead, and Toji scribbled out something on a napkin.

“Are you leaving?” you asked, feeling somewhat disappointed in yourself. You wanted him to ask you more questions. You wanted to know more about him.

“Afraid so, doll.” He folded the napkin, both of you surreptitiously scanning the surroundings before he handed it over. A smirk played on his lips, causing you to rethink the urgency with which you accepted it. “Your old man taught you lots of lessons, but seems like 'Stranger Danger' wasn't part of his curriculum, huh?”

“He doesn’t completely control me.”

Toji smirked, tapping the folded napkin. “Well, we're about to test that theory."

He left you perched on the barstool, and the moment he vanished, you unfolded the napkin, heart pounding.

ROOM 1231.

Sooner or later.

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cherryrogers · 11 months

Text

i just think that leon could be railing tf you, like rearranging your guts and making you cry……... all while holding your hand and stroking your hair n stuff :(( yeah

A hot tear rolls down your cheek. You’ve never had him like this before. This hard. This rough. Leon has always been careful with you, but tonight, you asked him not to be. Looked up at him through your lashes and asked him to ruin you, as you’d put it.

And well, you’re getting what you asked for.

“You okay, pretty?” He says, gripping your hips hard as he pushes into you, hips landing flush against your ass. It’s a rhetorical question; he knows you’re enjoying this. He only made you repeat the safe word close to a dozen times before pinning you onto the bed and having his way with you. “This what you wanted?”

Your hands clutch onto the bedsheets for life, head impossibly hazy from how Leon has utterly abused your cunt for the past thirty minutes. Swiping over your clit with his thumb and pulling away when your thighs start to shake. Rutting into you hard and fast, but never keeping up the pace enough for you to climax.

It’s pain and it’s torture, but fuck it feels good.

He wraps a hand around one of your thighs, pushing it over his shoulder, eliciting a broken whine from you. He’s buried deeper inside you now, somehow. Stuffed like you’ve never known.

“N-Need to cum, Leon,” You look up at him, glossy eyed and pouting. “Please.”

“You’ll get to cum,” He grunts simply, lifting a hand to push some hair away from your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your temple. “You’re— fuck. You’re gorgeous like this.”

Truthfully, Leon wasn’t totally convinced by the idea. Fucking you until you cried, until you begged. But you’re clenching tightly around him, making the most wonderful sounds… you’re ruined. Ruined beautifully by the pleasure only he can grant you.

His free hand moves so he’s thumbing at your clit again, and you cry out at the pleasure shooting through your core. One of your hands moves from the sheets to clutch at his shoulder, but Leon is quick to envelop it in his own, lacing his fingers with yours and pushing your hand back against the pillow. You’re sure you’re squeezing it uncomfortably tight, but if you are, Leon doesn’t mention it.

And fuck, you’re crying again. You’re overwhelmed and overstimulated but somehow none of it is enough, your orgasm impending yet too far away with the game Leon seems to be playing.

This is what you wanted, after all. And well, you’re not complaining.

Upon seeing your cheeks wet and your eyes wide and blinking away tears, Leon leans down, never slowing his torturous ruts into your cunt as he presses his lips to the salty liquid on your skin.

“You’re taking this— mm, so well…” He utters against your cheek, hissing as you tighten around him. “So pretty getting fucked like this.”

His lips are soft and comforting, along with the hand that’s squeezing yours in reassurance.

When your eyes meet his, they’re heavy and dark. Plagued with desire and a thirst for your pleasure.

You don’t think this is the last time you’ll have Leon like this. It’s a thrilling thought.

#i still can’t decide if leon is big on dirty talk LOL like #HE HAS THE CORNIESTS LINES which makes me think he’d come out with some nasty stuff #but also i feel like he looooves the intimacy and seriousness of sex where dirty talk woukd sort of ruin the vibe #idk #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4

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