#tw mentions of choking

[shadesofnavy]

Could I have some confirmation that Bounty Pico survives in that betrayal post? Please?

Don't get me wrong. I do feel a little bad for Bounty Keith since betrayal from a loved one will always be one of the most painful to experience, especially after all the shit he went through.

However, from what I gathered from both the lore post and some of the recent art you've posted, Bounty Keith's not quite the most stable person out there. The man has, after all, managed to unintentionally become an infamous criminal due to his instability. Temper does contribute quite a bit, yes, but I believe the unstableness contributed a tad bit more here.

As much as Bounty Keith will no doubt hate to acknowledge, he IS a danger to be around for others- not simply due to the risk that always comes with associating with criminals but also because there's always that terrible possibility that he might harm others, even his own friends and loved ones. That recent art where he's choking Pico - one of his very loved ones - while the poor guy is clearly pleading for him to stop while he's struggling to breathe only further proves my point.

So yeah. I hope Pico will come out okay. Betrayal is shitty and I will always feel horrible for Keith that it happened to him- but this further backs up my point that he's a danger to be around. I don't know if Pico is the one who betrayed him but if he was... well... I don't think he would've made the choice lightly. Something which I feel Keith would understand had he been of a more stable mind.

Rest assured, both Cherry and Pico will make it to the end (more or less... what is "end" here actually?😫 ) so he will survive the attempted manslaughter.

Throughout the years, Keith has fallen into a habit of lashing out whenever he feels threatened or overwhelmed as he can't find other relieving ways to cope. He's also quick to notice subtle changes in people too--simple small alternating behaviors that one wouldn't notice at first, the faint tremble of uncertainty in a voice, the look of doubt in a gaze. When you combine all of those together and end up in a situation when something is after you and your closest most trusted people are acting afraid of you, he's overwhelmed. He's petrified, he's anguished, he's angry. Completely unstable to the point where he can't stop himself even when someone's screaming in agony at his hands. When even Pico is begging him through terrified tears and wheezes as his air is painfully cut off.

Keith is a danger to anyone who treads around him intentionally or not. A Pandora's box waiting to open, and when it does only the snapping of bones in his palms can close it. In his eyes there is no good or bad in life. He can't tell the difference between either of them. All there is in his world are prey and predator. He won't allow himself to become prey, so he makes himself the predator to survive. He considers Pico and Cherry prey that shouldn't be hunted, because he needs them. He loves them. So it only messes with him further when he notices something's off about them. When they betray him.

As for which of the two actually betrayed Keith... I'll reveal it with the sketches.

[mini-ism]

#— LIT CIGARETTES.

paring: gallagher x gn!reader (female anatomy, no use of “breasts”)

words: 3.1k

synopsis: gallagher meets a companion that he invites on a smoke break.

warnings: MDNI! intoxication, p in v, dubcon, alcohol, semi-forced smoking, smoking, cigarettes, kinda OOC?, choking, wrist binding, cunnilingus, light degradation, spanking.

DARK CONTENT AHEAD, DISCRETION ADVISED!!

flick, flick…,

the haze of fresh smoke covered his face as he leaned against the stone wall. the golden hour of penacony was ever-bustling. gallagher took a long drag from the cigarette, taking it out of his mouth with his index and thumb, ashing it slightly, and exhaling the smoke.

a cigarette every so often was refreshing, sometimes soulglad can be sickening. or at least to gallagher, though he might be the sole believer of that. damn near every night was the same, “can i get uh… soulglad?” another drunken patron slurred. the face of this patron is just as muddled as their voice. likely because every night, every person asked for a bottle of soulglad. gallagher obliged, as it was his duty, finishing wiping a glass, then uncapping a fizzy bottle of the drink, and passing it to them without a complaint or a mere word.

he took another puff, a longer one. he sighed, murky grey clouds leaving his mouth and nostrils. he put the cigarette back into his mouth, brushing his long, brown hair out of his eyes, savoring every intoxicating breath. he crushed he butt beneath his shoe, tobacco smearing onto penacony’s smooth pavement, watching it fizzle from existence. another benefit of the dream, one could assume.

he scratched at the stubble on his jawline, walking back into one of the many bars he frequently bartended at, bracing himself to serve more damn soulglad for the nth time tonight.

the chestnut-brown hair on his shoulders bounced as he strode back inside, music blaring a bit too loudly for his liking. he cracked his neck, then his gloved knuckles, and made his way behind the counter.

“how was your break?” a coworker inquired, “you smell like smoke.”

“it was alright, i guess. nothin’ too special.” he spoke, “is that a bad thing?”

music rang in his ears as he wiped down a few more glasses. the same coworker tapped on his shoulder after a few moments, “gallagher, look to your left. total cutie over there.”

gallagher wasn’t the type to pay attention to anyone’s looks. he listened. that was simply his job. he just so happened to look to his left, grumbling slightly. “i mean, they’re alright. what’dya want me to say?”

“come on, man, just have fun for once. i get that this is your job, but it never hurts to bend the rules a lil’, huh?” they responded, “i’ll give you like, 200 credits if you talk to them.”

“make it 500 and i might.” he joked, watching as his bartending partner pulled exactly 500 credits out of their breastpocket, slipping it into his pocket.

“do it,” they snickered.

he watched as you settled into your seat at the bar, waving to your friend from across the club. “anything i can get you tonight?” a voice rung from behind you, slightly raspy, yet smooth, and tired.

he was just as tired-looking as his voice led you to believe, “well, firstly, are you okay?” you asked curiously, hands resting on the edge of the marbled countertop.

“yeah, i’m alright. is there anything i can do for you?” he asked again, his amber-colored eyes focused on you, accented by his eyebags that happened to be deeper than oceans. he was visibly aged, and had scars littered all over him.

in the quiet moment you were investigating his appearance, he too was “checking you out.” you looked nice, now that you were in front of him. his vision wasn’t the best nowadays, but it suffices well enough to delineate all the delicate features painted onto your skin and your face. he liked that.

“could i get a crimson sunset?” finally, something that wasn’t a fucking soulglad.

“sure thing, not a problem.” gallagher grabbed a glass with his hand, pouring a mixture of syrups, drinks, and spirits into the glass masterfully. he smiled tiredly at you, passing the drink to you on a red napkin. the drink itself was a pretty red-orange color that faded into a deep purple.

“mind if i get myself a drink?”

“are you allowed to do that?” you replied.

“well, i mean, never hurts to bend the rules a lil’, yeah?” he answered, unintentionally charismatically.

his accidental confidence made you laugh slightly, “go ahead, mister…?”

“gallagher,” he said, pouring himself his own drink. he isn’t mixing it with anything, just straight alcohol from the bottle into the same type of glass you have in your hand, “no need to be so formal. you can just call me gallagher.”

“alright, gallagher, it’s nice to meet you.” you grinned brightly, taking note of the faint smile painting his features and lighting up his dull eyes.

“it’s nice to meet you too… ah…” he trails off.

“(your name).” you replied, giggling slightly as you take a sip from your drink, admiring the complex profile of gallagher’s mixing skills, “by the way, this is really good.”

“thanks,” he shuffles awkwardly, mimicking you by taking a swig of his own drink, “it’s really nothin’ though, just a lil’ bit of gallagher magic.”

he watches as you sip from your drink again, raising his glass again and finishing the rest of the liquid inside. he can feel the alcohol burning in his throat as he drinks it down hungrily, blurring his own mind as you start to talk again. he’s listening, but not a word is registering in his head. gallagher refills his glass with a more potent drink, leaning over the counter and propping himself up with his toned forearms.

“…and that’s how i ended up here, with my friend,” you finished off, the mix starting to get to your head too. he has no idea you could be such a talker, it almost makes him want to shut you up, but that’s not nice and he should play fair! he never does anyways.

“well, ain’t that a story!” he laughs, sipping on his own concoction again, flashing a grin, “here, lemme getcha another drink, it’ll be on me, hun.”

“thank you, gallagher!” you smiled drunkenly, watching him show off his mastery of mixology like it’s a performing art, pouring the beautiful mixture into your new glass.

“mmmn, what? you like the way i do that, eh?” he teased, leaning over the marble counter again, sliding you the glass, “so what if i do?” you teased back, your words starting to slur together to form one big super-word.

“i can do it again for ya, if ya like,” he breathed, his tired eyes starting to look more like bedroom eyes.

“really? can you?” you nearly begged, awe-struck at his sheer skill.

“yeah, i can show you everything i can do. ‘m not jus’ good at mixin’ drinks, y’know?” he said, sending a shiver down your spine, making your back nearly arch with just a single sentence. he looked at you again, greedily sipping his drink, his eyes imploring you to do the same without a single word from him. you do just as they say, watching the spark ignite within his pupils like a flick of a lighter. his lips curl into a smile as he finishes his mahogany colored concoction, a marvel of alcoholic creativity. you cough slightly as you finish up your own drink, the burn in your gut rising like a flame. it travels from your tummy all the way up your esophagus, tickling your lips with a sting.

“do you like it, babydoll?” he collects the glasses, putting them in the sink for later, “i hope you did. i worked really hard on making you a nice drink.”

you nod sloppily, words caught in your throat like the eager blaze that’s simmering within your body. words are barging into your mind, but you cannot decipher, nor string them together, properly. “that’s wonderful. would’ya mind joining me for a smoke break?”

“sure, we can do that…” you smile, your cheeks hot and your skin prickly with fire. gallagher walks out of the bar, helping you walk out of the bar with enough stability. he leads you back to the wall he stood against before, the golden hour much darker than before. you leaned against him within the alleyway.

“have you smoked before?” he asks, taking out a cigarette from the carton in his pocket, where the credits from before lie.

“nooo…” you slur, giggling against the wall as gallagher helps you up, the unlit smoke between his lips.

“…wanna try?” he asks again, lighting the cigarette, flick, flick, shielding the flame with his free hand.

you considered it for a moment. you never thought you’d touch a cigarette, nevertheless smoke it, yet here you are, “uh… sure…?” you said with a hiccup.

gallagher takes a long inhale of the cigarette, his lungs filling with smoke before he takes it out, filling your own mouth with smoke as he puts his lips on yours, gently cupping your jaw with his other hand.

he exhales the rest of the smoke, watching you cough with a weirdly sick pleasure, “you like it?”

just as you were about to whine and say ‘no,’ the rush of nicotine blurs your mind, you can barely muster up a whimper, let alone nod your head weakly. “thas’ good, hun.”

he passes you the lit cigarette, watching you take it between your fingers as you take a small puff, the paper that wraps the tobacco burning up. again, you cough, but the menthol soothes your throat a bit more this time.

“feels real good, don’t it?” he breathes on the junction of skin between your collarbone and your neck, the burn boiling over as you exhale, feeling his hot breath against your prickly skin.

gallagher takes the cigarette from you again, taking a long drag from it, and exhaling in front of you, a bit of the smoke tingling within your throat.

“gonna feel better sooner or later,” he murmurs, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and kissing the intersection between your carotid artery and your clavicle, tickling your skin with his raw, swollen lips.

you whine as his hands crawl up your body, feeling your chest and your covered up nipples. he’s getting handsy as he finishes the rest of the smoke, holding it in for longer, then exhaling in your face with a sinister chuckle, “you’s needy. i gotcha babydoll, don’t worry.”

you fall into him as he crushes the butt-end of the cigarette, the orange menthol filter dissipating out of existence. his gloved hands feel all over every inch of your torso, from your collarbones, to your low abdomen. gallagher plants more rough kisses onto you, picking you up and leaning you against the wall, your back facing him as your cheek presses against the cold, hard surface of the wall.

your vision is spinning as your intoxicated state seeps deeper into your mind and body, watching as he unties his pretty magenta-colored tie. gallagher binds your hands with the tie, keeping your hands behind your back, in place and secure.

“you wanna stay here like this? i’m not gonna ask you again, so you’d best tell me now if you don’t wanna go through with it.” he commands, his grip tight, but loose enough not to bruise flesh.

truthfully, you want to do this, your body does too. your words are failing you as you make little noises, your cheek scraping lightly against the ragged surface. you mustered up a meager, “wannit, gall… ger…”

“yeah, hun?” he whispered breathily, heat radiating against the shell of your ear, “you gonna be good f’me?”

“yessss…” you whine in response, shuffling against the wall, your mind buzzing with every possibility.

“thas’ good, so good already.” he smiles, you can feel his lips curl against your neck as he gives you another little kiss, his raw, rough lips grazing against your tender, needy flesh.

gallagher was buzzed himself, he’s always had a high tolerance for things like alcohol and nicotine, being high off life was almost entirely new. something he hadn’t felt in so long, and here you were, back arched, being all obedient. all for gallagher, bartender and bloodhound (that of which you were unaware of).

in a swift motion, he tugged your at your clothing, moving it out of the way, so he can paw at your undergarments. you looked so cute like this, wrists bound and legs spread. all of this just so he can see what awaits him, “my, my, you’re all wet.”

“nnnmh, yeaaah…” you heaved, you’re dizzy, needy, you’re hammered, and you’re vulnerable. how much more adorable can you get? his fingers traced circles around the dampened spot in your underwear. you’re soaked already.

gallagher pulled your underwear to the side, tucking it in the crevice between your lip and your asscheek, working his fingers on your wet slit. he took some of your slick on his finger, rubbing your clit with his dominant hand. he gave your pussy a self-indulgent slap, before teasing your entrance with a thick finger. wordlessly, it slipped in with relative ease, eliciting a loud moan to pass through your swollen lips. he chuckled at your reaction, pulling it out, then slipping the digit back inside.

another moan fell from your lips, throaty and whiny. his finger started to move inside you, at first unbent and quickly fucking you. you slid against the wall, knees buckling slightly, before gallagher’s free hand pinned you to the wall, keeping you in your place. his single finger curled inside you, hitting your spongy g-spot. you mewled, crooning at the sensation, practically seeing stars. your vision started to blur as black splotches started to cloud it, but all you could feel, think, understand, want, smell, need, was him. he continued fucking you with his finger, watching your legs shake and your juices drip down his finger and onto his gloved palm.

“feels real nice, don’t it?” he cooed, slipping in another digit without warning. his scarred, toned arm flexed with every movement, curling and slipping inside and outside of you. his fingers made their way to your clit, rubbing it with vigor and passion, before he spread your other lip with his thumb and put his lips to your pussy. he gave it a rough, sloppy kiss, pulling away to listen to you cry out. nobody could care any less, they were experiencing the dream. in all actuality, this feels like a dream within a dream, if that makes sense. you were just so amazing, you were alluring. definitely worth more than 500 credits. he gave your pussy another sopping wet kiss, his scratchy stubble rubbing against your skin, creating friction. his tongue darted to your clit, licking and sucking it between his lips and teeth. his thumb still held your cunt open. gallagher gave you a couple more long licks and kisses for good measure, savoring your every drop, relishing your taste, before standing up.

“ready, babydoll?” gallagher rhetorically asked before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants (which happened to be the same magenta color as his tie). you nodded, drooling and zoning out. all you could understand was the pleasure he was giving you, all you could care about was how much more pleasure he could give you, “great.”

he pulled his thick cock out from his boxers, lining it up against your entrance, savoring the difference in size. your small, little cunt and his big, fat dick. how cute. gallagher re-adjusted you, spreading your legs just a bit further, then putting some pressure on the lumbar portion of your back, causing you to arch more instinctively.

without warning, the burning within your body had boiled over again between your legs, the stretch to accommodate his girthy dick nearly destroying you. you screamed, but nobody gives a damn, “scream all you want, babe, you gonna take it.”

gallagher pulled out again, just a little, to slam back into you, watching your cunt stretch as much as it could. he savored how warm and tight you were, tight as a vice could get. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, saliva dribbling your chin and onto your clothing. a loud crack, followed by a searing pain, flooded your senses. his palm made contact with your asscheek again, slapping it roughly for a second time, pushing himself into you with as much force as he could use before breaking you in half.

“you takin’ me so good, ‘m proud of ya, doll,” he chuckled, smiling again. gallagher had found a pace inside you, his hand snaking up to your throat and wrapping around it. he applied pressure to your jugular and carotid with his thumb and his other four digits on their respective sides. he sped up slightly, gripping your hips as air flow lessened.

gallagher continued to slam-fuck into you, speeding up with every thrust, chasing his high. his breath was hot and heavy, huffing in your ear as your vision and hearing fizzled out like the cigarette butt on the pavement. your breathing became ragged as he bullied your pussy ruthlessly, “you ever been fucked like this, huh?”

air rejuvenated your senses as he let go of your throat, you heaved a weak, drunken “no.”

“ain’t no dick good as gallagher’s, huh? good as mine, mmm.” he groaned, his hips colliding with yours faster and faster andfasterandfaster…, “gonna cum, babydoll. i ain’t pullin’ out, though.”

you hoarsely whined, your fucked-out brain needing more of him, any morsel of him is good enough, and it just feels so good, and youreabouttofuckingcumtoo…

“mmn, i’m cumming, hun. i’m gonna fuckin’ cum in you, you needy bitch. fuuuuckyeah…” gallagher’s grip on your throat tightened the moment the burning hot coil in your stomach loosened, allowing you to orgasm and scream out his name just as soon as he came. he groaned and huffed in your ear, his brown hair messy and clinging to his sweaty face, “feels so fuckin’ good, fuuuck.”

you let out a choked noise, prompting him to let go and pull out of you. he leaned over you, resting his forehead against his forearm, that of which was supported by the wall you leaned against. your knees wobbled, and before you could fall, gallagher instinctively held your abdomen with his other arm, tucking you against his chest. you stared at his scars, which littered his arm, as you came down from your intense orgasm.

“…you okay?” he asked with a newfound gentleness. he helped you back up as he untied your wrists and pulled up his pants, fixing his belt. he chuckled, “i bet you’re tired.”

“very,” you panted back in response.

“how ‘bout i clock out and carry you home, how’s that sound?”

“sounds amazing, gallagher,” you leaned against him as he lit another cigarette before walking back into the nightclub.

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer of plucked out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[aria-chicken-flugget]

Dinner with the Birches

Judd x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature for strong sexual language and content MINORS* Please do not read/interact

Fic length: 3.8k words

Warnings: Mentions Knife Play, Pet Play and Choking (Those cheeky Hormone Monsters eh ;) eyebrows eyebrows~)

Summary: You're invited to dinner with the Birches, a very loving, kind and sex positive household. How will you fare as an easily embarrassed teen who just so happens to be crushing on their eldest son...

A/N: This is my first piece for Big Mouth! Cross posted from my ao3 account under the same title. Fic under the cut, enjoy :3

“Di-Dinner? I mean, are you… are you sure that that’s cool?”

You chuckled nervously, absently circling the hem of your new, hot pink shirt between your thumb and forefinger. Leah threw her head back with a laugh before checking her nails,

“Oh my God, (y/n), you forget how my parents let just about anything come for dinner.”

A horrifying flashback of Jay Bilzerian giving them post-its for dinner came to mind, with a quick roll of her eyes at the memory and a smile towards you, “You are of course more than fine, they love you.”

You took a breath and offered another soft laugh, shaking your head,

“You’re totally right, they’re… they’re really sweet. I guess I just feel bad, it’ll be my third time in a row.”

Smiling softly to yourself at the thought. You checked yourself out in your floor length mirror, smile growing as you twisted your hips to check each angle of yourself,

“I really like the shape that this shirt gives me.”

“Omg! You look amazing, it really accentuates your waist and curves.”

She gave a wink and you both laughed,

“Thanks Leah!”

Connie chimed in from atop of your bed with crossed ankles,

“I just love women building up women! You two are as good as your big, beautiful boobahs in that shirt, baby~”

You flushed with a whine,

“Connie!”

Rolling your eyes some, unable to deny it and allowing a small smirk. She had a point, your boobs did look pretty good in your new shirt. Connie’s brows wiggled comically with a low and velvet tone,

“I bet Judd’s gonna love the shirt ~”

Lilting his name in emphasis. Your cheeks begun heating up, your wide eyes flit to Leah, as if afraid you were about to be caught out. Fortunately, she couldn’t hear Connie and was distracted by her phone. You waved your hands dismissively at Connie with a low hiss,

“Connie please, the guy’s a total psycho-“

Sounding unconvincing even in your own ears. Realistically on a personal level, you only knew what you had heard of him from Leah. You knew in yourself that you were rationalizing with an excuse and worst of all, so did Connie. Connie kept gushing,

“He’s gonna love it so much that he’ll wanna tear it right off of ya, and then tie you up to the bedposts with the pretty pink shreds, OOH Baby!~”

Raising a hand to her forehead in a dramatic sweep and squirming with a laugh to herself. Your cheeks were bright red as you whined,

“Connie! Would you quit it?”

Folding your arms across your chest as you tried desperately not to imagine being tied up by Judd…

“I hardly know him, Con. Besides he’s Leah’s brother, it’d be totally weird to think of him in that way.”

Emphasizing with a nervous chuckle, but it seemed your randy hormone monstress was keen on ignoring you,

“Ooh ooh what if he does it shirtless? Please God let shirtless Judd tie her up - We loveee a shirtless Judd, he is hotter than the fireworks comin’ out of my pussy on the fourth of July!”

“Oh God, Connie! Please do not go on, I do not want to know how that feels.”

You shook your head vehemently, facepalming. Ah fuck… now you can’t stop thinking about shirtless Judd.

“Do you remember when we saw shirtless Judd for the first time, after he sharpened his knives out back, smellin’ like woodchips and cigarettes? Whew baby~”

Connie held her chin in her hands as she playfully kicked her hoofs back and forth atop of the bed, opposite Leah who was thankfully none the wiser and still on her phone. Your hands felt clammy, you swiped them against the jean of your thighs. Swallowing a cotton ball and ignoring the balmy feeling of your flushed chest, you fanned yourself with a forced laugh,

“Whew… is it warm in here?”

Leah peered up from her phone,

“Hmm? I don’t think so. Oh wait, we should probably get going soon, Mom says dinner’s gonna be ready in a half hour.”

***

The front door swung open to a beaming Elliot Birch,

“If it isn’t the wonderful (y,n)! What a pleasure it is to see you again. Please, please come in!”

Gesturing with a sweep of his arm as he stood aside, you offered a bright smile,

“It’s lovely to see you again too, Dr. Birch.”

Smile widening at his ‘This Apron’s a Feminist’ apron. What an icon. Leah appeared bored, rolling her eyes half heartedly as she breezed inside past the both of you. Smirking,

“God Dad, do you have to be so corny every time? You saw her yesterday.”

“Well when in the presence of excellence one simply must, especially if that’s everyday~.”

He held his clasped hands to his chest with a soft sigh. You felt warmth in your chest at the kindness of your best friend’s Dad. He was like a pseudo parent, with enough light and love for all. You allowed a flattered giggle, but any other thoughts stopped dead as Judd turned the corner with his shirt over his shoulder. Abs and lean muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat. His trademark scowl upon you at the door, he gave a grunt of recognition,

“Hey.”

Flicking his knife in an effortless swish. Trying to ignore Connie going nuts behind you - and dare you admit, ignoring a fluttering in your stomach - all you could manage was a,

“Uh –“

Mouth open in a small ‘o’ for a dumb moment, fortunately Diane’s voice sounded from the kitchen and saved you from an awkward moment longer,

“Judd hurry up hon, dinner’ll be ready soon.”

His scowl somehow deepened with another grunt. Scorching emerald eyes met yours and the intensity behind them winded you. Was that a smirk? It happened too quickly for you to really tell, and before you could register it, he was stalking the stairs two at a time. You were left watching his taut back muscles with your mouth hung open as Elliot giggled with Leah. Connie was trying to tell you that he really did like the shirt after all, but you were too busy trying to clear your throat and come back down to Earth. You took a deep sigh, trying to cover it with a glance around the Birch family home, and distracting yourself with the pleasant aroma of a home cooked meal. You felt yourself tense, feeling curious eyes on you still. Ah shit, Leah and her Dad were right there, weren't they. They hadn’t witnessed your fluster, surely? Hopefully? And now you had to get through an entire dinner with Judd across the way… You could feel Connie’s eyebrows wiggling from where she nestled herself onto your shoulder, lashes fluttering. God Dammit, Connie.

***

“Uhh uhhh fuck, (y/n) looked so fucking good in that tight little shirt. That pretty pink fabric - her tits were practically popping out, what a little cock tease~”

Maury mused in a gravelly voice, Judd blanking him as he flung the knife in his hand at his target on the wall. Bullseye. Maury perched on the edge of the bed with an excited bounce,

“Bullseye! Judd, hey Judd – what if you used one of those knives in some knife play, huh? D’you think (y,n)’s into knife play? OOH what if you used one of your knives to slowly cut away her pretty shirt and, and just fucking motorboat those puppies haha. I tried that last week at a sex party with John Stamos heh-“

“Stop. Fucking. Talking.”

Judd interrupted with a low rasp, jabbing a knife in his direction as a warning. Then stalking away to the bathroom to shower before dinner. Hopefully the water can wash away his thoughts.

“Maybe you could beat one out in the shower before seeing those perfect tits again at dinner. OR, even better – skip dinner, bring her upstairs and plow her ‘til your shooting blanks!”

Judd growled a guttural sound at the silhouette outside the shower curtain, dangerously low. Rubbing his eyes under the hot water. Maury’s low chuckle emanated against the walls of his mind,

“Oho ho ho hoh it’s gone straight to your balls-“

“Next time you speak, I’ll stab you.”

Fuck you, Maury.

***

You were sat next to Leah with their parents heading the table, leaving you sitting opposite Nick and Judd. The room was quiet save for the clinking of cutlery on plates and rhythmic stabbing of Judd’s knife upon his plate. Anytime you peered over at him you felt your cheeks grow warm, and so were quick to avert your gaze. Hoping to distract yourself, you broke the silence,

“Thank you for having me over again, Dr and Mrs Birch.”

“Oh please, call me Diane, (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure as always, (y/n) and please call me Elliot.”

Judd stole a glance your way to see your sweet smile, your bashful gaze turned to your food as you were tucking a stray lock of soft hair behind your ear. He soon returned to stabbing his plate. Leah’s sly smile grew as she observed the two of you, looking rather pleased with herself as she popped some food between her lips. Nick seemed to be ignoring everyone, head in his palm as he poked noncommittally at his food. Diane placed her cutlery down with a gentle voice,

“What’s the matter, Nicky?”

“Ahh, ’s nothing. Fought with Andrew.”

Elliot chimed in with concern,

“Oh no, what did you fight about?”

“Which one’s gonna fuck who, next?”

Judd interjected with that casual rasp, earning a light scold from his parents and you’d choked on your food. Nick whined,

“Shut up, Judd!”

He offered a sinister chuckle,

“What, worried he won’t feel your little dick if you did it?”

“Judder butter, play nice please, we have company.”

Elliot gestured towards you, who was being whacked on the back by Leah in an effort to stop your coughing. You waved them off good naturedly, eyes streaming as you wheezed,

“I’m alright, really.”

“Besides, it’s not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean.”

Elliot flourished. You tried to laugh it off to cover your wheezing cough from returning, gulping down your water. Breathless, you managed with a coerced smile,

“Does your family always talk about penis every time you have dinner?”

“Sometimes we talk about other genitals too.”

Leah sounded almost bored, entirely desensitized to it. Your brows downturned with another nervous chuckle. Catching Judd’s serious gaze on you, you immediately glanced away with a deep flush. Elliot laced his fingers as he addressed the table,

“As you may know, (y/n) we’re a very sex positive household. We don’t want our beautiful children to feel any shame when it comes to something perfectly natural, such as us normalizing small penises -”

“Oh sure yea, let’s completely forget about my problems and talk about genitals again.”

Nick muttered under his breath. Elliot reached for his youngest son’s hand,

“Nicky, having a small penis is nothing to be ashamed of, don’t let anyone get to you about it.”

You could feel yourself tensing, eyes wide as your gaze flit around the table, lips taut as if sewn shut. Elliot finished with a honeyed tone,

“Whether you decide to be intimate with Andrew or not, anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

Judd chuckled lowly as Nick whined in protest,

“I don’t want to fuck Andrew! Argh, gross.”

“Elliot, honey, maybe we should try to talk about something else?”

Diane offered, sensing the table dynamics being thrown for a loop. Elliot kissed the back of her soft palm with a smile,

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you~. Leah, (y/n), how’re rehearsals going for your new play?”

“Oh they’re going great so far, actually, thank you. We got the leads, we’re sisters in the show.”

You chirped, beaming as bright as the sun getting to talk about what you loved and best of all, you would get to work with your best friend. If you had a magnifying glass, or if you were in fact even paying attention to it at all, you may have been able to see Judd’s lips curve into a pleasant arc. Decidedly less menacing than usual. Maury and his gaggle of penises would be having a field day. Elliot beamed,

“Oh that’s wonderful!”

“Oh God what about that scene we have to rehearse for, tomorrow though? Talk about annoying.”

Leah mused, you turned to her with lightly knotted brows,

“Which one?”

“The one with Daniel – ugh. I think they’re still making your scene together an interpretative sex scene.”

“Wh-what?”

“Ew wait, Head Pusher?”

Nick screwed up his face in disgust as he asked, Judd stopped stabbing the table. You were too busy tensing up with an unpleasant feeling crawling up your spine to notice. Elliot chimed in,

“'Head Pusher?' Should we be concerned about this young person?”

“Nick said I slashed his tires.”

“Right before Nick was sick in his hat, ha.”

Leah interjected with a laugh so that it was uncertain whether anyone had actually heard Judd’s criminal offense. You whispered to her,

“Do your parents know about that party?”

“Oh it’s fine, we got grounded for it, they know.”

“Oh okay hah.. ha..”

You tried a laugh but all this oversharing was… odd for you, to say the least. Not to mention the discomfort seeping into your lower abdomen at the thought of having any kind of scene with Daniel the Head Pusher.

“Yes I was… sick in his hat haha ha..”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he caught Diane’s narrowed gaze before he shot out,

“But at least I didn’t cum in the living room, that’s the worst thing to happen in that room.”

“Worst thing so far -”

“That was your friend. Your friend came in the living room.”

Leah pointed out with a scoff, her fork pointing his way, once more over shadowing Judd’s ominous threat. Judd was chuckling to himself at the news,

“Ha, Nice.”

All the while you had some salad lodged in your throat again, bobbing up and down unable to get it down. Nick uttered to himself, surprised,

“That wasn’t supposed to reflect badly on me, I don’t really know what to say now.”

“Does Andrew have a bigger penis? Is that what’s been upsetting you, Nicky?”

Elliot took his son’s hand again, voice rung true with concern despite the nature of the question stirring different reactions from the table. Nick slid his hand out from his father’s grasp as if he’d burned to the touch,

“Oh God Dad, no!-“

“His chode is bigger than your little dinger though, bet.”

“Fuck you, Judd!”

“Well someone should- and that someone is you~“

Connie muttered in your ear, almost making you jump out of your seat. Leah offered,

“Nick girls don’t care about penis size as much as guys do.”

“This wasn’t even what I was talking about! You all assumed and started talking about dicks!-“

“You know pleasure isn’t always strictly penetration, in fact I’d argue the opposite –“

Diane began and you’d finally swallowed the lodged food. You stopped trying to eat in favour of rubbing the tense spot on your brow,

“Oy vey-”

“Oh totally, but the effort in trying is better than a fucking head pusher, gross.”

“Hear that, Nick? You’ll get points for trying - if you can actually find someone that wants to hook up with you first, haha.”

“Is it so bad that he hasn’t uh.. done that stuff yet? I mean he’s still young, we all are… still young. Young and pressured ha ha... ha.”

You found yourself interjecting Judd’s low sting in a ramble, cheeks growing warmer by the minuet as it tumbled out like word vomit. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Judd after catching his unreadable gaze. Lately when you looked at Judd and caught his thousand yard stare, it made you feel things in the pit of your stomach that you only really seemed to hear about. Leah quirked a blonde brow at Judd’s response, or lack of one thereof. Diane smiled at you,

“I think that’s true, too. There’s a lot of pressure on young people to do things they may not even be ready for.”

“I hope no one’s ever made you feel that way, (y/n).”

Elliot once again with concern ringing true in his tone and intent, but only causing your shoulders to tense with a flush crawling up to your ears. You cleared your throat in an effort to even your voice,

“N-no no, not at all, thank you uh, for your concern haha I am just swell.”

Jesus Christ, swell? That’s what I’m going for? Well, too late now. Your held your arms with your head hung in a dip, Elliot was ready to preach to you about loving yourself when it was likely the last thing you needed in that moment. Judd seized you up from across the table, scowl deepening before eyeing his parents. He was quick to pluck the balsamic dressing bottle up, and tossed it over at Nick’s head,

“Hey Nick, think fast.”

“Ow Judd, what the fuck? What was that for, asshole?”

He chuckled that low sinister laugh at the connection the bottle made to his brother’s head,

“I told you, I’m an agent of chaos, you little scrunt.”

Nick rubbed the spot with a whine before slapping Judd’s arm. Diane raised her voice some,

“Judd! - Boys, stop that right now!”

“I need to get the fuck to college.”

Leah held her head in her hands for a moment, meeting your gaze between her fingers,

“Please tell me you’re finished with dinner, we can hang out upstairs if you are.”

***

After some time with Leah in her room, you were on your way out when a sweet chittering sounded by your feet,

“Hmm?”

A racoon had weaved itself between your ankles with it's excitable trill. You simply bubbled with laughter as you crouched down to meet it, any prior nerves melting away as the little racoon let you pet their fluffy head. It bumped its head up into your hand as you pet it, stroking between their eyes with your index finger,

“Well aren’t you sweet! You seem uh pretty domesticated for a wild animal?”

“Raccoons can’t be fully domesticated -"

“Jesus!”

"-but apparently they’re pretty good at catering small events.”

You shot up at the sound of Judd’s velvet voice coming out of nowhere from behind you, hand flying to your chest. Judd seemingly unfazed by the outburst had continued over it. His lips curled in an impish smirk. The racoon that was perched in your hand had fled behind Judd’s calf with a warbled chitter. Your lips curving in an unexpected smile as you met Judd’s dark smirk,

“We should get a bell on you or something, you scared the shit out of me. That was some Adam's family bullshit right there.”

“Ugh fuck, she’s into pet play? Please tell me she’s into pet play and wants to put a pretty bell collar on you or, or on herself, Mmmngh~”

Maury was still foaming at the mouth in the background, Judd grunted at him but made to ignore him as his slight smirk fell on you,

“You’re one to talk, your dumbass dramatic reaction just scared the little guy.”

Your attention drawing back to the little fella chittering from behind Judd’s leg. You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress your smile as you did. Folding your arms with a quirked brow at Judd,  before crouching down once more with a gentle smile,

“I’m sorry little one –“

Maury opened his mouth to speak as you began leaning down with that open collar, Judd glared at him murderously,

"Don't even think about it."

Before you could get into your apology, the fluffy racoon seemed to have immediately forgiven you. They hopped right into your arms, making you giggle in delight,

“Well alright then~”

“God she’s as bright as the sun, that usually disgusts us in a person.”

Maury rubbed his furry chin in thought, observing (y/n) with the racoon. After a moment more of laughter, you realized Judd was observing you with a quizical brow. You cleared your throat and stood tall, scratching the back of your head,

“Anyway, I uh.. I should be heading off now. It was nice to meet you um..?”

“Cookie. That one’s Cookie.”

You could hardly suppress your smile at the name, biting down on your plush lips,

“Cookie. Unexpectedly cute.”

“Just like Judd~”

Connie wiggled her brows with a seductive lilt, to which you rolled your eyes. Judd was no where near ‘cute’… but you couldn’t deny that learning small things like this about him made you smile, and spread an unexpected warmth through your chest. Judd allowed a small smirk,

“Cute? You don’t know why they’re called that.”

That near psychotic smile matched with that low husk made you question your initial analysis. Either way you chuckled softly, tucking your hair behind your ear with a confident smile,

“Then maybe you should tell me about it sometime.”

That stopped his smirk short, his brows raised as his lips parted in a small ‘o’. Your own smile dropped at his response. Oh shit, did I say something wrong? Before he could respond, Leah emerged from her room,

“Oh, (y/n) you’re still here?”

Judd grunted with a deepened frown, side eyeing Leah as he heard her voice from behind him. Your rosy cheeks and bright eyes met hers with a faintly opened mouth, as if about to speak. Leah leant against her door frame as she mused in a lilt,

“Well it’s dark now, I don’t think you should go home alone –“

“I’ll drive you.”

Leah smiled with raised brows, I didn’t even have to finish~

“Oh ok, are you s-sure? Thanks.”

Judd grunted in response,

“Yea, common.”

Fishing his keys from a surprise compartment behind a painting.

“Be safe, kids~”

Leah winked at you from her doorframe, you caught it as you peered over Judd’s shoulder before heading down the stairs.

“Oh Shit - Leah knows you wanna bump beautifuls with her sexy jungle cat of a brother!”

“Wait what?! I thought she meant ‘be safe’ because he drives like a maniac?”

“Oh my sweet summer child-“

Connie cradled you in her anthropomorphic hair arms without any space between you, you kept inhaling her fur. You felt like you were a dog toy being squeezed. You tapped her furry side,

“Uh, Con.. Connie – can’t breathe!”

She let you go with a small apology, watching as Judd met the bottom of the stairs, grunting at you in a way that prompted your frozen limbs to move again. Connie lilted,

“I’ll let Judd do the chokin’ baby~”

Ah fuck… now you’re fantasizing about fucking in the back of his car.

[pfhwrittes]

hey p this is nobody you know but do you have thoughts about depot mouse seeing something they shouldn't have seen? 😇

hello friend! (who i definitely don't know, no siree) i waffled over this and my search results are now full of dubiously legal activities that i definitely haven't ever seen in practice, not even once mr/ms/mx GCHQ person checking online traffic. (i also got distracted by portakabin set ups, but that's a separate issue.) and then my brain spat this out for the tradieverse.

does it answer the prompt? eh, vaguely. but i hope you'll be pleased with it.

tags/tw: non-sexual semi-nudity, russian pet names (pchelka = little bee, myshka = mouse, milaya = darling/sweetie/dearest), light angst at the end, and a very brief mention of choking.

author's note: barely skimmed for typos and bad grammar as always and a patented (by @/391780) abrupt ending because i couldn't figure out how to end it and it was getting away from me.

at this point, you're certain nikolai thinks it's funny to have you running around after him. flitting from your office to the driver's "lounge" (another portakabin, this time outfitted with a row of lockers, a sagging sofa, a table and set of scattered chairs, and a small kitchenette area), you yank open the door and your waspish comments die on your tongue.

nikolai is leaning against the counter of the kitchenette. in his pants. in just his pants.

unbidden your eyes skate over his broad shoulders, down over a glimmering gold chain that is nestled in thick, dark hair that spreads wildly over his chest to a soft stomach, to land on the tightest pair of black briefs you've ever seen.

"hello, myshka." nik's voice snaps you out of your staring and you feel heat flooding your cheeks as you tear your gaze away from his... underwear to meet his amused brown eyes.

"i, um, i was looking for you." you absolutely do not let your eyes drop below his neck as nik redistributes his weight as he laughs.

"and now you have found me." nik grins, a flash of surprisingly white teeth considering the amount of black tea and cigarettes he imbibes.

"yes, i wanted to - sorry, but why exactly are you in your pants?" you blurt out.

nik shrugs his broad shoulders and you drag your gaze up to look just past his left ear where a damp lock of black hair curls lazily.

"my clothes are wet." he says simply, like that explains everything. it probably does, knowing the very little you do know about nik.

there's a beat of silence where nik continues to grin and you ignore the way your neck and face are blazing with heat.

"right." you clear your throat uncomfortably. "anyway, i need your receipts."

"it's no problem, i've already handed them to farah." nik waves your words off with a lazy flap of his hand.

"yes, it is a problem! you can't just hand your receipts off to the head of the company, nikolai!" you huff irritably and nikolai interrupts you with a loud boisterous laugh.

"ah, pchelka." he sighs fondly, "always so busy running around, you miss what's right in front of your nose."

that brings you up short and you scowl furiously at him. of course he would think that, all he has to worry about to getting from the depot to the job site and back again. he isn't having to chase wayward drivers around for scraps of paper, or answering the phone to a disgruntled jonathan price when he can't get hold of nikolai, or answering emails with the subject line "how much 4 hardcore??" that you hope to god have come from a bot and not some sad, lonely weirdo thinking that a haulage company offers pornography.

the grin on nik's face flickers slightly and you see his eyes are no longer amused, but soft, almost apologetic.

"sweetness, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to imply-"

"it's fine." you interrupt him, your tone has gone flat and professional despite the way frustration burns at your lungs, urging you to unload all of your irritation on the man. "i'll just go ask farah for the receipts."

nik takes a step towards you.

"milaya -"

"no, really nik." you turn away to push at the door, "thank you for your help as always." you shove open the door and stomp across the dirt to the office you share with farah, leaving nik behind you in his underpants.

(later in the afternoon, after you had emailed farah to send you copies of nikolai's receipts, you lean back in your chair and refuse to let your mind drift back to the glittering gold chain resting on nik's collarbone.

and if you do, it's only because you're thinking about wrapping it around your fist to strangle the insufferable man with it, honest. )

[lihim-oa]

"I don't know anything about violins" - "music is music, isn't it?"

[an-albino-pinetree]

Tastefully C R O P P E D -

Anyways, eat well—- sdhfhgj aa

🚨MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Look away children!

Warnings! : Cw suggestive Mild choking, yep- degradation if you squint, mostly just name calling, swearing, praise, being referred to as a toy, not your doctor’s recommended amount of dirty talk, Carnival!Jax being him-

[vvvampiredoll]

I was cursed with being wide 🥹

[ask-the-roommate-au]

Y'all want my banana bread? i nearly choked on it :3

-Random Anon

Not if you choked on it.

[1-800-sinister]

(tw: dom!becky, sub!reader/YN, Y/n is mentioned, Y/n is female, smut, spanking, slapping, choking, blood, and oral sex) Y/N watched on the screen as her girlfriend Becky was fighting with some of the raw members. She gasped when she saw Nia's fist collide with Becky's nose. 

She wanted to go out there to help her girlfriend, but she knew she couldn't, so all Y/N could do was watch until Becky got backstage. Y/N watched the blood spill down Becky's face. She shifted in her seat to say Becky looked hot. Covered in blood was an understatement. She looked fucking sexy.

Becky got out of the ring, raising her arms as she stared down at Ronda. She then went up the stairs, raising her arms again, shit talking to Ronda. Becky went backstage. 

Becky was greeted by her girlfriend, "I'm fine, baby. I'm fine. Don't worry, it's just a bit of blood." Y/N shook her head. "Your nose looks broken, Becks." 

"I'm fine. I'll get it checked out soon, but first." Becky grabs Y/N's arm, dragging her into a nearby closet, shutting and locking the door. She pinned Y/N to the wall. 

"Baby, what are you doing? You need to get that checked ou-" Y/N stopped talking as Becky slapped her. "Shut your mouth." 

Y/N nodded. "Good girl." Becky smirked as she pulled down Y/N's pants and panties. She began to eat her out blood was smearing on her inner thighs. Y/N let out moans, gripping Becky's hair. She about closed her legs around Becky's head, but Becky slapped her ass, which caused Y/N to keep her legs open.

"becky" Y/N felt a hand wrap around her throat, choking her. She let out broken moans and whines as she felt herself get close to her orgasm, thanks to Becky's skilled tongue. 

"Cum cum for me, y/n," Becky commanded, then went back to eating y/n out. Y/N came all over Becky's tongue. Becky swallowed and stood up. "Clean yourself up and wait for me in my locker room." Becky walked out, leaving a shaky Y/N.

[toastyghostyhq]

Do you think Mob would be afraid of lightning/thunder after his first meeting with Teru? There's already an omake showing that he flinches at loud noises. And the entire atmosphere of that fight was framed by the storm. Lightning crashed outside while he was being choked out and halfway to dying, illuminating his attacker's enraged face- I don't know about you, but that'd leave an impression on me

Imagine it's just another thing he tries to suppress. Maybe a thunderstorm happens at Reigen's office at some point before Season 2 and Mob realizes how much he's been flinching in fear when Reigen points it out, and excuses himself to the bathroom. Maybe he's not very knowledgeable on trauma responses and thinks his body is simply holding a grudge against Teru, and he blames himself for it while he's alone. "Hanazawa-kun's changed, he won't hurt me anymore. Why are you still mad at him?" He berates himself, choking back a frustrated sob when he flinches yet again at another clap of thunder outside

[bidmybloodtorun]

Me to Bf: I find it very rude that sexual masochism is considered a disorder. Just because I love it when you have me bound & gagged, choke me, slice me with a knife so I bleed, wrap my head in duct tape, beat my ass until you break my fucking skin, leave marks and bruises all over my damn body, plus my r@pe fantasy, k!dnap fantasy, and curious about a loaded gun shoved down my throat while you fuck me doesn't make it a disorder.

Bf: *snickers*

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I will make your weird masochist friend call you a tsundere and beg for you to hit him

[what-if-i-just-did]

Okay guys so.... I was scrolling through pinterest, as one does, when I came across an ad for something that y'all HAVE to use on your whumpees!!!!

It's marketed as a tool to use while working out to increase your lung capacity or something, but the reality of what it does is this- you put it in your mouth, and it restricts your airflow. You can adjust how much of your airflow you want restricted.

I'm sorry but- tied up whumpee having this shoved in their mouth????? Air restriction without choking? You'd have to block off their nose somehow but that's not too difficult.

It comes in red, blue, black, and white. Happy whumping!!!

[atlas-library]

☾ inumaki toge ☽ nsfw alphabet.

〝i light the match to taste the heat.〞

fandom: jujutsu kaisen character: inumaki toge (amab!toge) pairing: toge x gn!reader universe: canon universe

genre: nsfw headcanons rating: r-rated word count: 6.9k trigger warnings: nsfw, many kinks linked to physical harm (mostly asphyxiation), "consensual non-consensual" role-play mentioned, mentions of strong alcohol. Reader's discretion is advised.

more jujutsu kaisen ⭒ more inumaki toge ⭒ taglist ⭒ ko-fi

aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Toge is great at aftercare. It comes with loving rough sex (that's your theory). While Toge loves receiving so he can get treated like a prince afterwards, he also loves taking care of you; he'll hold you against him and brush your cheek, petting your hair as you're both still panting from the do.

He'll link his fingers with yours, carefully watching you, and will bring you even closer while entangling his legs with yours; you'll stay in this small cocoon he's created until your stomach rumbles or the need to pee is becoming too urgent.

If Toge was particularly rough on you, he'll make sure to clean you, lifting you to the bathroom and gently kissing your stomach and thighs— Leaving ghostly kisses on your inner thighs for you to sigh, a hand in his hair, as he lets the bathtub fill with hot water. He'll wash away all the sins he's imprinted on your skin, running his fingers along the veins of your foot while caressing your waist. He'll face you unless you ask him to hold you, in which case he'll oblige and will make it his goal to clean your chest, teasing your sensitive nipples as he kisses your neck. You'll sigh his name, your nose against his jawline, and he'll smoothly run his hand down to touch you there.

He'll be slow and sensual about it, drinking your moans and cries; he'll kiss you deeply and you'll feel the smile on his lips— He'll be proud of himself for overstimming you, pushing you to a new edge as you cum on his fingers, your hips buckling against his treacherous hand. He'll rub you one last time, making you whimper, and will start over— This time using his mouth to clean you down there.

body part (their favourite body part of theirs, and also their partner's)

Toge's favourite body part, whether it's his or yours, is the mouth; he loves kissing and will do it all day long if he can. Expect him to gently drag his fingers along your jawline, tap under your chin, and softly kiss you. He'll kiss you over and over again, slowly growing more impatient and insatiable; he'll bite your lips, lick your teeth and suck your tongue, a hand firmly put against your neck so you don't get away. He'll feed off the muffled moans you'll let out, how cute you look whenever you melt in his arms, and the pants escaping your pretty mouth.

He'll put two fingers on your tongue for you to suck, then three, and will fuck your throat so slowly, so gently. You'll drool around him as he pecks the corner of your lips, then lick your spit and suck your skin— And he'll expect the same from you.

He'll grab your butt and get you off as you slowly do back-and-forth movements with your fingers inside his mouth. You'll feel him drool and suck, you'll hear his panting as you go deeper and faster, you'll see his eyes roll backwards when you try to trigger his (nonexistent) gag reflex. You'll feel his body leaning against yours, he'll show you his tongue so you can kiss it and feel his tattoo vibrate with a low hum, he'll let you suck on it only to kiss you deeper right after.

If you're lucky enough, he'll go down on you and will let a thread of spit link his lips to your sweet spot— All this while looking up to you.

cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Toge has an oral fixation, and always acts like he hasn't had water for days; he'll drink your cum every time he's sucking and licking you, overstim you so it gets on his face, then take it off with his fingers only to lick them as you watch.

He's starving, and he needs you to feed him. Don't be nice, play rough: grab his hair to push him against you, listen to his moans as you cum hard, so hard he can't even breathe, whimper as he licks and sucks everything, to the point you cum a second time.

If he wants to make you his, simply spread your legs and wait for him to pound you; no matter how sensitive you are, he'll go hard, deep, until you tighten and leave him dry. He'll spread your hole and watch his cum drip out, just like he would with yours— Your hole acts like a panting mouth, pushing his cum out with every breath, and he's fascinated.

He's hard again and fucks you more. Let it spill out and say you're his, he'll love you so much it hurts.

dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Toge is always surprisingly shy about it, almost out-of-character because of how shameless he usually is with his sexuality and kinks. If anyone were to make him drink to spill the beans, he'd still probably feel a bit too embarrassed to talk about this.

Toge loves choking, manhandling and rough sex, anyone (un)lucky enough to be with or hear him having sex knows. It's not too bad though, it gets Nobara cackling whenever she's drunk, Yuuji always looks deep in thought (as if trying to picture everything like it's a math test), and Maki stares at the horizon like a war veteran getting flashbacks.

What no one knows, though, is that Toge's into "consensual non-consensual" sex. He fantasises about someone grabbing him, pinning him down and not letting go even if he cries out; he needs someone to crush him with their weight and fuck his throat to keep him quiet, someone to blackmail him into spreading his legs, someone to twist his wrists whenever he tries to push them away, someone to ignore his pleas— But it'd all be fake.

experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Toge's experience mostly depends on how old he is: if you started dating when you were still teenagers, you were definitely his first time. If it was in your twenties, though, chances are he's had hookups before, although nothing serious. Most of his experience comes from you, though, mostly because you're always down to try new things— Which is basically a requirement when being with Toge.

Toge isn't necessarily a god in bed, at least not at first; he learnt from all the nights spent with you, pleasuring you, sucking at your skin and moving his fingers the right way. He's a fast-learner, but he would still struggle a bit more with someone else. He's an expert with you, because of the time spent observing your reactions, quietly asking about your body and his, learning and teaching them how to fit together.

He knows what to do to you, he knows (most of) your limits, and you know his. You can tell him to stop or slow down whenever it becomes too much, and he can mumble some sushi ingredient as a safe word if he's reaching the edge. Toge may not be the most experienced when it comes to the real deal— He's experienced in you, if it makes sense, and knows about you and only you.

favourite position (this goes without saying)

Toge doesn't have one favourite position; he has multiples, but even then it depends highly on the context.

If he's giving, he'll always choose a position that makes you face him; he wants to see you cum, he wants to see your face as you reach orgasm, and he wants to be able to cup your cheek with his hand (or grab your throat, depending on the pace).

Toge likes when you straddle him and jump up and down his cock, solely because he gets to see you needy for him (and if you have breasts, he'll fondle them like they're national treasures). He'll definitely sit up at some point to pound you hard, and will bite your skin while you moan and cum on his dick; don't worry, he'll keep going even after you came. He loves overstimming you.

He might also fuck you from behind after a mission— Only if the adrenaline gets to him, though. He'll push you to the ground, turn you around, grab your hair and lift your hips, then fuck you deep, oh so deeply. A whimper will escape his lips, prompting him to bite your neck to shut up, and he'll relish the idea of hearing you moan his name.

He'll grunt against you as he cums inside, and you'll feel his voice vibrate against your skin as your name comes out muffled.

If he's receiving, Toge will want to straddle you; he'll face you so you can see his dick getting harder, so you can stroke him as he whimpers, so you can see his face tense up as he cums. He'll take your hand so you can play with his nipples, and who are you to say no? There's something about seeing his soft features twist as he gets lost in painful pleasure; you like to feel him tighten around you, his legs shaking more and more as you go harder on him.

You want to see him bite his lips and grab his own throat to keep the sounds in. You want to tell him to look at you as he cums; he'll struggle but try, and whenever his deep gaze is on you, barely seeing you because of how hard you're stimulating his prostate, you can't help but grab his neck to kiss him.

You'll end up rolling over to be on top of him, take one of his legs to put it on your shoulder, and pound him harder as he grabs the pillow and lets out a silent cry— Kiss his skin, from his ankle to his knee, hold his hand and tell him how pretty he looks like this; he'll moan your name, mispronounce it because of all the pleasure overwhelming him, and will sob some more with erratic breaths and tears rolling down his face. Then, when countless hiccups leave his throat, hidden with painful but oh so pretty noises, let him climax around you, tightening his hole and grabbing your shoulder while his face is buried against the pillow, wetting it with his tears and drool.

Cum inside and cum on him, pet his hair and praise him; you've quenched his thirst for now, time to rest till the morning.

goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Since Toge can't talk, it's hard for him to crack jokes while you're doing the do; he's definitely smiling, though, but it has more to do with how teasing and borderline-sadistic he can get when you're moaning under him. He'll chuckle while pounding you, kiss and lick your leg, leave hickeys on it, pinch and rub your nipples with a teasing gleam in his eyes— Before the gleam becomes slightly ominous and he grabs your throat to make you squeeze as he pounds you deeper. He'll only get serious when you're exploring new kinks, or when you need a time-out to recover.

hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Toge is hairier than most people think. He only shaves when it becomes too much of a hassle in the shower, to be honest, but he does try to keep it nice for you— Mostly because he doesn't want your nose to get tickled by his happy trail when you're deepthroating him. His body hair is slightly darker, a mix of grey and ash blonde; the closer to his cock, the curlier it gets. When he gets a bit too rough, you lightly pull on it; it makes him stop right away, and you know he's into it because his dick almost always twitches inside your mouth.

intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Toge isn't the type to look or sound romantic; is fucking you hard a way for him to show how much he loves and cares for you? Yes, definitely— However, you'd need to know him well to get that.

Toge kisses a lot, takes care of you and expects you to do the same with him, and that in itself is often classified as "romantic". It's not, though; to him, it's basic care anyone should give their partner. What's romantic is him pushing you to the edge, making you scream his name, feeling you tighten as you cry and beg for him to stop— But no, keep going— But oh, right there— That's what romance is to him.

He won't spur out "I love you"s, that's just not who he was meant to be— Unless you go slow. Take care of him, yes, but show him you accept him fully. Toge's a desperate lover, extremist in everything, a passionate soul forbidden from speaking; show him you're with him till the end, whisper that you'd die for him against his lips. Moan countless "I love you"s while linking fingers, tell him as you drown in his gaze. 'I lo—' He'll start but will stop himself with a pained cry, hiding his face against your neck as he moves his hips harder, trying to compensate for his lack of words.

And you know; you know these intimate nights are too painful for him, thus why he avoids them like the plague. He's cursed, unable to whisper sweet nothings against your lips like anyone else would. 'I know, I love you so much—' You reassure him and he tenses up, cumming inside with a sob.

Toge doesn't do romance; it's just too painful.

jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Toge is insatiable and has always loved playing with his own limits, pushing them further as time went on and experience was being gained.

He starts softly, simply fondling his butt with two fingers teasing the entrance; they go up to his balls, press them a bit, then he lets his nails run up to the tip of his cock. With his other hand, he's pinching his nipples, slowly kneading them. Once he pulls on them, his heat goes up a notch: he opens the drawer and takes a bottle of lubricant without even needing to look, then throws it by his side as he also frantically grabs a dildo.

He covers his fingers in lube, as well as his asshole, before fingering himself while biting his lips; two fingers in, he adds a third one and lets his head fall back on the pillow as his mouth slightly opens to quietly moan. He doesn't keep that rhythm for long, though: he quickly fingers himself faster and harder, curving his fingers to tickle his prostate as he starts sucking on the dildo.

He pictures you as he sucks, whether you'd need a strap-on or not, and pushes the dildo deeper down his throat to choke and drool on it— All this while spreading his hole and fucking it fast.

Toge's insatiable, though; it's not enough. While he could cum like this, where's the fun in that?

He spits the dildo out of his mouth and uses his fingers to be as wide as possible for it. Then, slowly, he pushes it inside his ass. His breathing gets shakier, and he adds more lube to make it slide in more easily but also rub his own dick. A moan leaves his lips once the dildo is deep inside (and all he thinks of is you fucking him, being inside him, ready to own him).

He jacks off while sliding the dildo in and out for a few minutes, purposefully tightening with every move so the pressure can make him moan— He bites down a small whimper, a cute 'Ahn!' that makes him harder because of how slutty he sounds.

Still, not enough. The drawer is already open, so Toge just takes out a vibrator, and clumlessly, shakily turns it on. Then, he puts it againt his hole, near the dildo. 'Ah! Hn...' It makes him moan and gasp in pleasure, he keeps moving the dildo in and out while pushing the vibe against the sensitive skin. His hips move up as he does that, he wants more, he needs more; the vibe slides up to his scrotum, making his legs shake as his balls get stimulated, then against his dick.

'Hm, ye— Ahn...' He puts the vibe right below the head of his cock to stop himself from talking, 'Ah! Ahn, ah...' Fuck, he sounds so cute and slutty, he wants to fuck himself right now. Click, he turns up the vibe's settings and inhales sharply before sinking his teeth in his lower lip. Fuck, it feels good.

Toge almost forgot about his ass, but the vibe stimulating him is too much; it's furiously buzzing, going so fast against his cock, right under the head, and he only needs to slide it up now and— Toge pushes the dildo at its deepest as he cums, the vibrator now against the tip of his dick. His entire body shakes, he's pinching his lips together to keep moans in, but he can't stop. Not yet.

Even though he just had an orgasm and his entire body is now sensitive, he keeps the vibrator against his dick. He also leaves the dildo in his ass, facing his prostate, ready to stimulate it, and with a click turns on its own vibe setting.

Toge uses his now-free hand to bite down a cry, tears already rolling down his reddened cheeks: it hurts, he came already, but it feels too good to stop. He wants more, he needs a second orgasm.

It's coming, soon, so soon— Toge takes the vibe off his dick, loudly breathes in, eyes wide open from the entire wave of pleasure still drowning him, although lessened (but he can feel the dildo vibrating against his prostate).

Softly, Toge stops biting his hand and brushes his nipple— His legs shake from the stimulation. Toge then puts the vibrator near his chest. He can feel it despite not putting it against the skin. Slowly, he makes it turn around his nipple.

More, more, he can't help but think. He closes his eyes and thinks of you edging him, over and over again, until his balls are empty. He pictures you kissing him, biting his lips and licking the sweat on his neck, making you open wide to suck on his tongue then put two fingers inside his warm and wet mouth.

Toge starts fingering his mouth and throat, the vibrator still buzzing around his nipple, picturing you fucking both his mouth and ass, making him drool on your fingers, go so deep to try and make him gag. With now three fingers down his mouth, Toge unintelligibly moans your name. The vibe goes back against his dick as he sucks hard on his fingers, spits on them, and keeps them warm and wet as if they were yours; you'll make him cum like this, you'll finger him, you'll fuck his dick and choke him hard— His hand grabs his throat and he squeezes. You're choking him hard so he keeps quiet, you want him to listen and be a good obedient boy.

Click, the vibrator is at its maximum, and Toge lets out a strangled moan as he tightens his grip on his throat; his legs are shaking too much, it hurts but feels so good, he wants to cum, he's about to, he's so close— You're fucking him, you're edging him, you're praising and demeaning him with your hand around his throat, manhandling him perfectly.

Toge puts the vibrator against the very tip of his dick, near the urethra, and keeps it there while he strangles out another cry and cums harder than before. He keeps it there, panting and sobbing, eyes opening and rolling backwards, drooling so much there's spit down to his neck. The vibe keeps going and he doesn't know anymore if he's cumming or not; in his ass, the dildo keeps going.

He doesn't let go, ready to overstim himself for another good thirty minutes, until you actually come back from your mission and find him there.

kink (one or more of their kinks)

Nobara once asked him to send a list of his kinks as a joke (and as future blackmail whenever he traumatises Maki with his antics), but Toge ended up typing for almost 30 minutes straight without ever sending her the text. When she assumed he was just getting shy and tried to reassure him about it, he simply stopped typing, then sent: No, it's just taking a while to write.

Anyway, I don't have ten years to spend writing this post so here's a non-exhaustive list of Toge's kinks. If you'd like more details, feel free to ask.

Spit kink. At first it was just letting some spit drop down his tongue, but now he just wants you to spit on his face all the time.

CNC (consensual non-consensual), we've mentioned it before.

Size kink. He's short and knows it, and he also gets horny just thinking of how massive some people are next to him. He needs to be manhandled so bad, if you're taller he loves you so much.

Threesomes and more. Bonus points if there's enough people for him to get his entire body used.

Electricity, and so far that's where pretty much anyone draws the line. He gets it, and is sad he isn't immortal because it'd be much easier to convince you if he were.

Gagging (bonus points if it's with a dick/dildo down his throat and he actually gags on it despite having no gag reflex whatsoever).

Any kind of rough sex, choking included.

Someone needs to fuck him so hard he forgets his name.

Food play, and while there're some hits and misses, he knows whipped cream is always a win.

Someone needs to fuck him so deep he gets a belly bulge.

Breeding kink, both giving and receiving. Either way, a mating press is done.

Role-playing (especially with power dynamics).

Humiliation, especially when sprinkled with a bit of praise and domination.

He's a sadist and a masochist, are we surprised.

Bondage. Although he prefers being manhandled, he doesn't dislike ropes and cuffs, especially if it puts him in embarrassing positions.

Probably some BDSM, too.

He needs to take two dicks up his ass AT THE SAME TIME and have his hole gaping with cum dripping out of it.

Exhibitionism is a big thing with him. Sorry not sorry.

Public fucking too, although for obvious reasons he doesn't do it.

Hidden sex, though?? Especially with his oral fixation, the thought of him hiding under a desk to eat you out while you force him to keep quiet by fucking his face... He needs a cold shower.

Someone get him a leash.

Wax play is also something he likes, especially tied down.

He has a bit of a scent kink, and you guessed it after he kept hugging you so tight after training; his favourite place to smell is definitely your genitals, and sure it's embarrassing, but seeing his cute face makes up for it.

He also loves anal in case it wasn't clear, whether giving or receiving.

There are probably more, to be honest. Feel free to ask about specific ones. 💔

location (favourite places to do the do)

Let's be honest, Toge's favourite place to do the do is probably "anywhere as long as I'm with you". And he doesn't mean it in the corny, cheesy way; he likes taking risks, and he's into public sex— Clearly, no place is going to scare him off. If you asked him where he really, really likes doing it though, it would highly depend on his mood.

Slow and sensual? Definitely the bedroom. He wants to take his time with you, and the privacy that comes with your room is simply perfect for that. Fast and rough? Probably a semi-secluded place, like a dark alley. A little bit risky and perfect for quickies. If you're both in need of a thrill, a restroom so you can be hidden but hear people coming in and out. He'll eat you out or make you hump his leg, but shh, you have to be quiet.

motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, pretty much anything can turn Toge on. The right words, the right gestures— It's all right when it's from you. You could tell him he looks cute with his new scarf and he'd want to get on his knees and shove his face between your legs to thank you.

What keeps him going, though, whenever he's close to cumming and you're not, is the thought of getting you off. He wants to please you until he passes out, and even then he'd like for you to keep using him as you please. Toge doesn't love prettily or moderately; he loves obsessively, sinks his teeth deep into your skin and marks you. You are his, and he is yours.

His goal is to please you every single day of your life, but also to make you needy, dependent, so much that you can't think of anyone but him; hearing you moan his name, hearing you say you love him and you're his, hearing you beg for his touch— That's what keeps him going. You're needy, you want him, you need him. He'll make you cum so much you'll cry, unable to move without shaking, and the worst part? You'll ask for more.

no (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs)

Toge is open to many things, yet he can't bring himself to like or try to understand people who like scat. You do you, it's just not for him; if you ask him, he'll probably stare to see if you're joking. Whether you were joking or not, you'll say you were to avoid the icy judgement of his glare.

Another thing Toge doesn't do is let you shush him, or cover his mouth with your hand. It can definitely be surprising with all of his other kinks, but the gesture and sound simply trigger him: he's been shushed his entire life, and has had to deal with hands forcefully shoved against his mouth ever since he was two. If you want to shut him up, whether it's because he's about to say something or because Maki the War Vet™ scares you, just shove your fingers down his throat, kiss him, or make him eat you out.

oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Speaking of eating you out, Toge has an oral fixation and deals with it by shoving his face between your legs every morning and every night (godspeed, soldier). Whether you're AFAB or AMAB, Toge will lick and suck until you beg him to go faster; if he's in a good mood, he'll let you cum right away. Most of the time, though, he'll make you linger, looking up to you as his tongue moves around and licks your sweet spot; the only reason he makes you wait for your orgasm is so you can grow impatient and grab his hair to facefuck him. He'll grab your thighs whenever you're close to keep you from moving away and taste your cum on his tongue (and he'll show you, and fuck you did not expect to find this hot but the glistening tattoo got to you).

While Toge prefers to give, he does like seeing you get on your knees to pleasure him; he'll pet your hair as you suck on his dick, let his fingers linger against your cheek then lips as you keep him warm and wet in your mouth, before sighing a small, low moan. He'll probably grab your hair to fuck your throat right after, though (and if you drool around him, spit on the tip of his cock then fondle his balls, he'll have to shove a fist against his lips to keep quiet). Whether you're experienced or not, he'll always be gentle until he feels you're more at ease— You can always hit his thigh or say the safe word if it's getting too rough for you, though.

Toge will want to cum in your mouth or on your face, all this while stroking his cock. Expect him to keep you still with a hand petting your hair; it wouldn't be hard though, seeing his soft features tensing up as he climaxes and spurts cum on you.

pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Toge fucks and likes to get fucked fast and rough; he'll always look like he's on the verge of death and needs to cum before the world ends. Expect him to grab you, hold you tight and use any possible means to fuck you deep and fast.

Toge needs to grab your throat, bite your neck, lick your ass and scratch your thighs; he's like a dog in heat, humping you at night or at the very first hours of the day, putting his hand on your waist to keep you still as he rubs his dick against you.

Slow, sensual, intimate sex isn't his thing— It isn't, it makes him feel, it gives him time to think about you and how pretty you look, how much he cares for you, how wonderful you are— It makes him vulnerable, and only in an emotional way. Don't expect slow and sensual sex unless it's your birthday; Toge wants to lick the teeth mark on your shoulder, not kiss it gently. He wants to grab your hair to force you down on your knees, not lovingly move it out of the way so he can see your face. He wants you to cum so hard you forget everything but his name, not for you to feel so tight but warm as you whisper 'I love you' against his lips.

He wants to cry because he's overstimmed, not because you love him back.

quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If quickies weren't a thing, Toge would probably implode. He tries to be responsible and reasonable— But he can't do that if he's not allowed to pound you (or get pounded) at least five minutes every day. You can expect him to pull you in an empty room after a meeting, or drag you back to bed first thing in the morning, or even in the forest after a mission: either way, he's getting that quickie.

When— Not if, when it becomes too much for you, he'll look at you with his big eyes, pouting like you just scolded him (and you didn't, you just need a week or maybe a month to recover).

Don't give in. Be strong. If he feels like he's about to implode, he'll use his hand. Good luck.

risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Toge is reckless. You thought he was only reckless when it came to curses and sacrifices, but turns out he seeks that thrill and adrenaline boost pretty much anytime. It definitely explains some of his kinks, or the ones he's most curious about— Electricity, fire, or simply you choking him until he passes out as you force him to drink your cum. It's common for Toge to gasp for air after a heavy session, mostly because you've learnt he needs you to fuck him like you want him dead. It makes him kiss you harder, and quite simply love you harder.

'I don't mean to be rude, but you're crazy,' you told him after a session so intense he had actually screamed of pain— Pleasure. He only chuckled with a big smile, holding you tight with his face buried against your neck. One week later and he's fucking you in the restroom.

You don't want to admit it, but it definitely got hotter when you both heard people entering said restroom. Toge can't know, though. He'd make it a habit.

stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You'll get a minimum of three rounds with Toge— In a row. He'll want to cum once, twice, thrice; the last one has to be a dry orgasm. He'll make it last the whole night, special occasion or not, no matter how tired you are. You never really complain anyway, do you?

You like feeling him inside you, seeing his face relax when he realises how warm you are, moaning as he cums barely a few thrusts later because of how pent-up he always is, but still moving his hips. Toge doesn't do breaks. He keeps moving until he's dead, and if he happens to get tired first, he expects you to make him cum once more by taking the lead.

Unless you're going all slow and sensual, he won't last long: he'll cum fast, letting out a sharp breath as he pounds you relentlessly, no matter how many times you tell him to stop because he's too sensitive. He likes it. He'll keep going, will let out a few cries and sobs as he cums again and again, taking you to round six or seven without neither of you realising the night has been that long already.

toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

In Toge's mind, a good birthday gift is you tied down to the bed, completely covered in vibrators and with at least one dildo inside you as you cum so hard you can't even make a sound anymore. He'll look at you like you're the prettiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen; you're his work of art.

Toge has drawers full of different toys, despite having his top 3, and he can't wait to test them on you— Or himself, for his own private sessions. He wants you to give your input, get curious, try some on him and find out on your own how they work. The first time you find the dildo in his drawer, you can't help but blush— You were surprised, you were looking for a phone charger, not this— But look at you now, fucking him so slowly with it to make him hungry for you.

He sends you pictures of new toys he'd like to try with you (and you're pretty sure you scarred Maki for life after she accidentally saw one of his texts to you). You always tell him to be more careful with it, but you know he loves the risk of being caught— He feeds off it, that's why he leaves doors unlocked despite you two mutually masturbating on a double-headed dildo (and fuck, that felt good). If you're too loud, he'll happily gag you so you "don't have to worry about people hearing" (granted, he only said 'Salmon', but that's how you translated it). He'll suck and lick you as you have a vibrator taped to your sweet spot— And you came so hard that night.

He drives you insane, yet you never regret opening that drawer.

unfair (how much they like to tease)

Depending on his mood, Toge will either want to make you cum in less than ten seconds, or make you beg for it for the entire day. His mood changes too fast, and the most unfair thing out of everything is how quick he is to give you the cold shoulder: you remember the time he started fingering you right before a mission, only to stop the second you were about to cum. He let you beg for it the whole day, trying to tease him with 'I want your fingers' or even 'I've been good, right?', only for him to stare at you and continue like nothing happened (you hated him a little that day, you have to admit)— Then again, he fingered and spanked you hard the morning after, so maybe there's a silver lining to all of this.

Toge teases a lot but always makes sure to please you after he's done toying with you; it balances everything out, in your mind. Although it's definitely hard to see him look at you like you don't even matter to him. You try to ignore it, not take it personally: that's just how he is, he has mood swings, and he'll make sure to make up for it once he feels better.

When he makes you cum five times in a row despite your whining, you can only forget about it; he tries his best, and he's more unfair in love than sex.

volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Surprisingly so, Toge is quite loud— Or at least he wants to be. He'll bite his lips, kiss you hard and shove his face against the pillow every time he feels a sound coming out; it's always very touching to see him try so hard to keep quiet, even when getting overwhelmed by how good everything feels, only so he doesn't curse you by accident. The most you'll hear from him are usually muffled whimpers and shaken breaths.

Sometimes, when he's overstimmed and cumming for maybe the third time in a row, he'll let out a small cry while tensing up; if you keep it going, he'll moan some more, getting louder and louder as a fourth climax begs to come out, grabbing the sheets with his eyes rolled backwards and tears in his voice. When he's like this, all you need to do is move your hips: his mouth will open wide, and you'll hear a broken cry escape his lips as he immediately groans afterwards, covering his face with both his hands to shut up and hide.

Move your hips faster when he does it; his screams will be muffled by his hands until you grab his wrists and pin them down. Tell him he's yours and everyone should know. He'll get louder, and if he tries to say something, you'll simply shove your fingers down his throat to keep him quiet.

wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Toge randomly fantasises about his friends and, while nothing ever comes from it, he does feel like a bit of a freak. The first time it happened was when he saw Yuuji training shirtless— The sweat glistening on his chest, how tall and massive he was (especially compared to Toge), as well as how his back muscles would move as he contracted his biceps; Toge had to take a cold shower after that.

The second time was with Maki, when he saw her chilling with her short hair and a tank top showing off her biceps. Every time Maki sparred with him and eventually pinned him down or held him in a chokehold after that, Toge couldn't help but think of her arms and the low chuckle in her voice; thankfully, Maki's too oblivious to realise the effect she could have on men. He also had to take a cold shower after this one.

Before anyone asks, no, Yuuta doesn't count. It'd be unfair.

x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Toge's dick isn't necessarily big, or long, or fat, or anything special. It's average, on the slimmer side of the spectrum, a bit curved to the side if we're being honest (just a bit, though, don't mention it, he can get shy about it). He mostly prides himself in his perfect ass, but that's because he works out so much he's not about to miss any opportunity to show it off to you— And it makes you laugh every time he does it. It's more of a joke between the two of you, truly.

Toge is lean, athletic but naturally thin. He's nothing special, really; definitely wouldn't give his dick any more than a 7 out of 10, and that's only because it does look pretty. Yeah, it's a pretty cock. Sure, it's got its flaws, but you really can't say it's ugly— At least not when you're sucking it so earnestly, making sure you lick right under the head.

Okay, maybe you miscalculated: there's a chance he's slightly above-average.

yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Everyone knows how high Toge's sex drive is— And it's high, very high. What started as a drunken sex game ('Hey hey, guys, who rubs one out at least once a week? Twice a week? Three times??') ended as "the entire room stares at Toge like he's an alien".

Toge "rubs one out" at least once a day. More in winter, usually three times every morning and two every night; he's hungry, thirsty, fucking starving— and it's never enough. Maki told him that maybe he "should get it checked", and all Toge did was lightheartedly show her his middle finger while chugging down another shot of vodka.

Merciful to some extent, Toge doesn't fuck as much a day as he masturbates; he'll ask for at least one quickie per day, sure, but he can take care of the rest himself. Although you admit you can't always leave him like that, and find yourself on your knees more often than you thought you'd be. You just want to help, and sometimes the best way to help is by sucking him off and force him to drink two litres of water so he doesn't dehydrate throughout the day.

zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Unless you're clearly needy for some aftercare, Toge falls asleep so fast he looks like he died. Be understanding, though, it may be your first orgasm of the day, but it's probably his seventh or eighth.

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[frownyalfred]

me: makes Clark hold Bruce up between his legs while he pukes his guts out after a mission gone wrong

me: THIS is male intimacy!!!