"i bet mine's bigger than yours!" — this isn’t inspired by zach and bryce from love island usa, whaaat literally why would you say that … 876. 18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.
Suguru has a problem.
Okay, he has many problems. He has a problem with rolling away from his warm bed in the morning, and he has a problem with making sure he eats balanced meals. He has a problem with high-pitched noises, and he has a problem labeled ‘I’m in love with my best friend, and really pathetic, because I refuse to do anything about it.’
Suguru has problems.
But, Satoru? That’s his main one.
“C’mon, Suguru, it’ll be so quick—”
“You’re not looking at my dick.”
Satoru whines, collapsing further into their shared couch, in their shared living room, in their shared apartment—
Maybe, Suguru set himself up for failure.
Maybe, this is Suguru’s fault, after all.
Suguru caves. He always caves.
Now, he and Satoru just…stand here in the middle of their living room, with their dicks out, like this isn’t the most absurd thing Suguru has done since Satoru made him buy olive oil for his ice cream.
Satoru’s making a face. Suguru isn’t exactly sure what it means.
“What.”
“This isn’t working,” Satoru mutters, placing a finger to his lips like this is a lab study and not two best friends in a very compromising position. Then, he snaps. “Get hard.”
Suguru narrows his eyes, like he might be able to see what Satoru said in the air, because he doesn’t think he heard what he thinks he heard. (Oh, but he does.) “…What?”
“Get hard,” Satoru repeats, gesturing to the general vicinity of his… “Dick measuring contests don’t work unless you’re hard, Suguru. Duh.”
Suguru sighs, and looks down at his own crotch. So, that’s what they’re doing.
That explains the ruler Satoru went all the way to his bedroom to grab.
Suguru sighs again, hard and heavy, and, just in case his best friend is deaf, pinches his eyes. “Satoru, I’m not getting hard in front of you. My dicks already out; this is already weird as fuck—”
“Right, so what’s the difference if we go a little further?” And Satoru shrugs, like he’s talking about the weather, or the news, or literally anything else. “Right?”
Suguru groans. He knows he’s going to cave again. But, like—
“How.”
Satoru’s eyes light up once he knows he’s in. (The issue is that Satoru wasn’t out, he was never out, no matter how egregious the request.) “I dunno, what kind of porn do you like to watch?”
“None,” Suguru huffs, crossing his arms, and ignoring the way his dick bounces a little. Now is not the time. “I’m creative.”
“Ugh, boring,” Satoru rolls his eyes, but lets it go as he points to their bedroom doors. “Well? Go. Get hard.”
Suguru releases a noise classified as an annoyed growl, soft but deep in his throat, but does it. Because he’s weak. Fucking pathetic.
Suguru comes back out in three minutes. Two of those minutes were spent panicking, because what the fuck, not only does Satoru want to see his dick, but see it hard, and one minute was spent imagining what Satoru might be doing to get hard, what he might look like. Red and flushed, and—it doesn’t take Suguru long. He barely has to touch himself.
Satoru’s hard. Suguru’s hard. Now what.
“Now, we measure,” Satoru says with a joy reserved for absolute children, innocent and bright, like he isn’t dripping pre-cum all over the floor, what the fuck—
His roommate grabs the ruler, and slaps it against the palm of his hand with a loud thwack! Suguru flinches.
“Please don’t do that to my dick.”
“I won’t,” Satoru rolls his neck, vaguely annoyed. Then, with a glint in his eye and a crooked smile, “Unless you want me to.”
Suguru huffs.
“I’m leaving.”
“No! Okay—wait, I’m sorry.”
Suguru sighs, leaning his head to the side until his neck stretches. He lifts his hands, then drops them against his bare thighs. What a lovely reminder. “Just—hurry up. My legs are cold.”
“Fine, fine,” Satoru grumbles under his breath, walking up quickly. He measures himself first, tongue sticking out in absolutely adorable focus, squinting as his finger lines up with his tip. “’Kay. Seven point one…”
Then, he stabs the ruler into Suguru’s abdomen, and grabs hold of his cock. Suguru inhales something sharp, then slaps his hand away.
“Satoru, what the fuck—”
“What? I need to hold it—”
“Fucking—let me hold it, why would you just touch my—”
“Hold it, then! I don’t give a shit!”
With a huff, Suguru does, in fact, hold his own dick, as straight as he can—because, he’s not about to lose, the fuck—and lines it up with Satoru’s ruler. He ignores the fact that Satoru’s dick was just on it, a small dark dot of pre-cum left in his wake. This is so, so unfair.
And, if Suguru’s dick twitches at the thought, no one knows, because Suguru’s holding himself in a vice grip.
“Seven…point one,” Satoru reads, and though it’s a tie, Suguru’s fine with not winning as long as he’s not the one losing, and—
Satoru groans, takes the ruler back, and measures himself again. “’Kay, so we gotta get it down to the hundreth, then—”
hunter!sevika, bottom!sevika, top!reader, inexeperience, pussy eating (s!receiving), making out, porn with plot
read pt 1 ⤷ ゛here ˎˊ˗
req by ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭° @queenradianceroselie ♡‧₊˚
the walk back to town consists of you asking sevika endless questions about her life in the city between awkward moments of silence. she's not much for words and you aren't much for conversation; but her voice was so deep and sultry you try everything to keep her talking.
"so what do you do?"
"hunt."
"like, deer? for a job?"
sevika looks down, smirking a little, "yea. like deer, for a job." another silence falls over the both of you, you can't help but turn your gaze toward her now gloved hand. the one that had two of her thick fingers inside of you moments before.
"still thinkin' about me?" sevika chuckles, "wasn't even my best work?"
you suddenly feel hot in your heavy coat, "th..that wasn't your best?"
a loud laugh rumbles out of sevika's sturdy chest as she snakes her arm around your waist, "not even close." after some more awkward silence, you finally make it to the edge of your neighborhood where your modest trailer sat.
"wow, your place is the furthest away." sevika looks out into the small sea of warmly lit windows.
"hm, yea. my mom left me this place. lived here my whole life, i guess i've always just been...set apart from everyone..." you trail off, embarrassed.
"hey," sevika rests her hand on the small of your back, rubbing small circles. your still-damp underwear wets even more, your clit throbbing almost painfully. you needed her.
"l-let's go inside!" you dash in front of her stumbling onto your porch and open the door. "after you!"
"thanks, pretty girl." sevika all but purrs. she knows what she's doing to you. you are gob smacked at how she can act so natural after something... so...so arousing.
immediately you feel the warmth of your house in contrast to the bitter cold outside. you watch sevika shed her equipment; first, her heavy hunting rifle, then her fur-lined boots, then her heavy coat, fuck her arms are so big. no wonder she so easily pinned you against that tree—
"thought it wasn't polite to stare."
you snap out of your trance, "sorry...i've just never uhm, done any of that before and—"
"look, don't be embarrassed," sevika strides up to you cuffing your head in her hands. she smiles softly, warmth spreading across her face. "there's a first time for everything."
your heart hammers in your chest, your eyes dart down to her lips, and then her eyes again. sevika just watches you, a knowing look behind her dark grey eyes. slowly, you took off your coat, fearful that any sudden movements would break this moment. with the thud of your coat you grab sevika's face, crashing your lips into her.
her towering frame stutters as she wraps her arms around you, stumbling to your nearby couch. you don't know what's wrong with you, you can only think of one word: more. hungrily chanting over and over again: more, more, more. your hands are everywhere; in her hair, down her sides, groping her boobs. sevika lets out a jagged groan sliding her tongue gently across yours. you open your mouth for her completely in response she bites your lip with the perfect amount of harshness.
while keeping your mouths intact, you clumsily riffle up your long jean skirt to straddle her better. sevika is a moaning mess under you; the lewdest symphony.
"fuck," sevika breaks the kiss to breathe, her short hair wildly tossed, "you're driving me crazy."
your far too gone to care for social politeness. "can i eat you? i've never had this...i need this." you tug at her belt buckle.
sevika's eyes widen as she reaches to unbuckle her belt, "get on your knees. do as i say."
you wait at her feet, watching her shred her bottoms. she has a happy trail that started from her heavy bush and up into her shirt, and thick thighs flanking each side of her muscled figure.
"come 'ere." sevika grabs the back of your head, guiding it to her clit groaning as your lips made contact with her. "ooo, fuck. n-now, flatten your tongue...righhttt there." sevika's hips grind into your face while her hand kept you right where she needed you. closing your eyes, you let your tongue draw lazy circles over her large clit. her pussy is so big it's easy for you to completely bury your face in her. you moan into her, causing her legs to shake.
"yes, ohmygod, yesss." sevika whines, "su-uh-ck on it!" her deep sultry voice now a faint rasp. you suck lightly on the bundle of nerves, still swirling your tongue over the very tip. this utterly breaks her. moaning out your name with the most desperate tone, her thighs clenching around your face. the pressure combined with the smell of musk and cigars makes your pussy twitch. still shaking, sevika pats your head three times.
"oh...okay, i'm done." sevika deeply sighs. you sheepishly grin, getting up
"d-do you, uhm, need something—uh anything?" you ask, while also wondering if that was weird to ask. sevika gives you a blissed out look,
feat quarterback!toji x camgirl chem partner!reader
summary: Toji Fushiguro considers himself a very generous man, especially after using part of his D1 quarterback paycheck towards his favorite camgirl. If anything, he's a patron of the arts: dedicated, curious, and always ready for the next big thing. So when he finds out his quiet little chem partner has the same bedroom as his idol? Well... color him intrigued.
content: MDNI 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, camgirl!reader, chem partner!reader, quarterback!toji, fratboy!toji fanboy!toji, jjk college au, no use of “y/n”, prn with a ridiculous amount of plot, oral (m!receiving, f!receiving), piv, squírtíng, dumbification, toji has a biiiiig d, dáddy k!nk, size k!nk, brééding, etc.
word count: 10.1k (i don't play abt this man)
author's note: all credits of the above pictures go to their creators. The left-most picture is from thatsallitchief on X or tiktok. If anyone knows the artist of the right-most picture let me know so I can tag them!
toji's pre-game playlist: gemstone - don toliver, homecoming - lil uzi vert, don't kill the party - ty dolla $ign, love me - lil wayne, you - don toliver, nightcrawler - travis scott
These were intense times.
The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed.
There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft.
As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses.
It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk.
Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones.
As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf.
Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field.
His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table.
He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer.
Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls.
She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself.
And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts.
His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded.
“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”.
Part one?!
He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20.
And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name.
“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”
He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty.
But in the lecture hall? Well…
His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II.
He was truly a lost cause.
He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never).
So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago.
At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast.
Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you.
And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter.
It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.
In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.
“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”
It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.
You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.
He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.
He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him.
His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter.
Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”
You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen.
For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.
What the fuck?
He took your phone.
“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”
He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones.
“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”
He hated how his dick twitched at your words.
But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.
He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake!
His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”
You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!
And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.
After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.
He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.
You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday.
The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission.
And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill.
He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.
Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days.
And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days.
“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both.
You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe.
He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…
“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare.
“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power.
You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!
You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache.
The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?”
He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly.
You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips.
“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you.
He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag.
“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”
And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest.
A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand.
“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.”
His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away.
“It’s a small place,” you warned.
He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”
He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them.
You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”
For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world.
All he could do was swallow and nod.
He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door.
The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road.
Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row.
The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen.
Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.
And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.
He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–
He coughed lightly.
What was he thinking?
As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine.
Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.
It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.
“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table.
You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down.
He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room.
And, holy shit.
No.
There was genuinely no way in hell.
He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it.
His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body?
Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.
His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it.
Everything looked familiar.
Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–
“Can I help you?”
You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours.
You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.
And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words.
All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.
“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
He scoured through every single video and rewatched every single clip that night.
The furniture, the decor, the walls, the window placement: everything was the same.
And so, the verdict was in: you–his quiet, guarded, asocial, and steely chem partner–were none other than stargiirl herself.
What. The. Fuck.
It was confusing to wrap his head around, this whole stargiirl-chemgirl business. But would he go as far to say that it wasn’t attractive? That he didn’t pop a boner every time he thought about it?
No. He couldn’t. He’d never.
Was this divine intervention or his own personal hell?
He couldn’t tell.
What does this mean? How should he act? What does he fucking do with this information now?
He rubbed his temples before running a tense hand through his hair. At the same time, a notification popped up on his computer.
“Check out a new post from stargiirl_xx !”
He could feel the blood in his veins thumping against his skin.
“Don’t do it. Please don’t fucking do it-” he mumbled.
He tapped into the link despite himself.
“Lessons In Vibration Pt II”
He wordlessly clicked the play button on the video.
For a moment, he thought his screen was buffering. The camera was set up to look out onto your bed, though you were not in frame yet, presumably twiddling with the settings of your camera.
But when you finally did walk into view, his heart nearly imploded.
The frame only showed you from the mouth down, your identity mainly concealed. You were bottomless, bare legs walking across the floor as you situated yourself on your bed. The only piece of clothing you did have on was an overlarge sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, one that he, in his panicked daze to get out of your apartment earlier, forgot he had left behind.
He didn’t dare breathe, nor could he move. His head was craned so close to his computer, as if he wanted to go through the screen itself just to get a better look.
He noted how his hoodie fell past your ass, large and consuming and honestly? So fuckin’ perfect on you.
You were nearing the end of your normal introduction, and he realized you spoke differently on video, low and confident and sensual and hypnotic.
“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about my content throughout the years,” your hands started to draaag the bottom of his hoodie up, letting it bunch just slightly above the dip of your waist, enunciating your curves. “-And I’ve realized I’ve never had a partner during any of them.”
The comments on the side bar started to flood through, hundreds of viewers already volunteering themselves to be your +1.
His jaw ticked, hard.
“I think,” you leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. Toji gripped onto his computer until a faint pop! could be heard of one of the inner screws coming loose. “I think I would like to change that in the future,” and then you smiled, really smiled, a full, playful grin wiping across your features in a way he had never been able to see in person before.
His dick bobbed in his pants.
This could not be happening to him right now.
You continued, “but for now, welcome back to my Lessons in Vibrations series.”
He watched as you started introducing the toys you would be using today, before you slowly began to touch yourself, teasingly showing glimpses of the purple lace panties you had on underneath his hoodie.
And he couldn’t help it, really.
Because when you started rubbing your vibrator against your clit, your deft fingers plunging skillfully into your cunt, soft whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy started squelching out a fucking melody – all while wearing his fuckin’ sweatshirt – what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
His sweats were already halfway down his thighs, and his meaty hand greedily pumping his own cock in sync to you fucking yourself on your fingers.
He watched hungrily as you pushed his sweatshirt up further along your body, exposing your stomach, teasing the view of your bare tits. He bit back a groan at the thought of your scent lingering in the fabric, and prayed to whatever deity above that you wouldn’t wash it out before he got it back.
Below, your fingers languidly teased the head of your vibrator against your entrance. It was the insertable kind, with a slender tip and curved body, the type that had your hole trying to suck up the device with every rub against your dripping slit.
He could feel the veins in his cock pulsing hotly in anticipation, pushing up thick pearls of precum out onto his flared tip.
He wondered what it would be like to slip his shaft against your drenched pussy lips, to massage the underside of his cockhead against the tight ring of your entrance, to feel you squeezing around him, and to hear the sounds you would make just for him.
He gulped, cool sweat starting to form on his brow. You were beginning to fuck the device into you, pumping the vibrator in and out and in and out. He could see your legs trembling, your juices starting to uncontrollably splash outside of you, and your pussylips fluttering with every bzzz bzz bzzzzzt of the vibrator fucking and swirling and massaging into your g-spot.
He was matching your pace, furiously pumping his dick, thinking about how you looked on all fours earlier, thinking about how you smiled when you called him his name, thinking about how you look when you concentrate and the mole above your brow, thinking about the coffee you made for him and the weird shitposts you sent and the way you could look at him like he was nothing, and everything, all at the same time.
And suddenly, he wasn’t climaxing to the stargiirl he had always seen on screen.
It was his tough, quiet, calm chem partner.
And as he shot hot spurts of thick, ropey cum all the way from his dick to his chin (the most he’s ever released before), he realized only one thing.
He just finished to the thought of you.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Toji Fushiguro had a problem.
No, scratch that.
He had a fucking crisis.
It was drill day, and his head was absolutely nowhere near the turf. He fumbled balls, missed targets, and was a full thirty-seconds under his usual sprint times.
And that was only how one of his practices went this week.
It had been five whole days since he last saw you.
Five days of being dogshit at his sport.
Five days of holing up in his frat, avoiding campus, avoiding class, avoiding your texts, avoiding you.
It’s not like he wanted to do this, but he didn’t know what to do, how to act, or what to even say.
How could he talk to you casually while knowing he’s given probably a third of his checks to you? How could he be normal in your presence knowing that he’s watched every single one of your streams, and in turn has finished an embarrassing amount of times to each of them?
How could he trust himself when the thought of you alone had his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt? Or how his chest squeezed so tight he almost went to urgent care, just because you texted asking where he’s been and if he was okay?
How could he face you, knowing that he somehow developed the largest, fattest, most egregious fuckin’ crush on you?!
And, for the record, Toji Fushiguro did not do crushes. He hadn’t necessarily “ran through” the entire roster of available chicks on campus, but he did have an occasional fling, nothing serious, nothing long, nothing that would distract him from football and his dreams.
He was known as the campus heartthrob and heartbreaker. He was Mr. Non-Chalant, Mr. Everybody-Wants-A-Piece-of-Him, and Mr. I-Don’t-Get-Attached all wrapped up in one 6’4, 230 lbs body.
A crush? That was new, unexplored territory for him.
He stared down at your last texts to him.
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:03pm): i got us a nice spot!! im sitting on 2nd floor @ clark ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Ba-dump!
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:18pm): knock knock, is mr. toji theree
Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:56pm): hey, is everythin ok? r we still on for today?
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–
⭐️ (Saturday, 10:01am): r u alive
It physically sickened him that he couldn’t get his cowardly fingers to just fucking write back. But every time he opened up your text chain, all he could do was stare.
Which is exactly why he couldn’t see you yet.
He needed time.
He needed space.
He needed to get this shit under control.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, the Kappa Epsilon fraternity was throwing a rager tonight. With the group of men only one week out from the next bracket of playoffs, this would be the last night the football frat would get to drink together for a while if they were to make it to the finals.
It would be the perfect distraction.
About an hour or so into the party and he was buzzed. He absolutely demolished that shithead Ryomen in beer pong, crushed a pack of PBRs, and now was cooling off in the kitchen, his body feeling swimmy and light.
He reached for his phone. Maybe, just maybe, if he looked at your messages again for the umpteenth time today, maybe he would know what to say, maybe he–
“Ah, so you can come out and party but ignore all of my texts?”
His heart did that stupid thing where it pounded so hard against his chest he wondered if his ribs bruised.
Despite the booming of the bass coming from the room over, and the idle chatter of randoms idling in the kitchen, he could hear the dry, unimpressed, and entirely too familiar voice coming directly from behind him.
He turned, his eyes lowering to find you, as if it was muscle memory, as if it was his second nature.
You never showed up to these parties (and trust, he has invited you to them all). Yet here you were, your body leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest, and your hair falling around your frame.
He grinned, the buzz in his head making it easy for a stupidly cheeky and wide and boyish smile to plaster onto his face. (a/n: toji has a hung smile. Okay? Okay.).
“Hey, party animal,” he said, almost dreamily.
The top you wore clung to you like a second skin, accentuating the swells of your breasts and the dip of your waist: features that you usually hid underneath your normal, bulkier campus-attire.
He was indecisive, his eyes bouncing between the unreadable look on your face to the sliver of exposed skin right above your miniskirt.
You looked good, really fuckin’ good.
Your eyes widened, before your cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of red, your manicured fingers tightening around the plastic solo cup you were holding
Did he say that outloud?!
You straightened, steeling yourself, willing the warmth in your cheeks to go away. “You’ve ignored me for five days, Fushiguro-” your voice was firm and cool, cutting sharply through the noise of the party.
Back to the last name basis.
You looked away, before adding, “-and you ditched me on Thursday.” You spoke that last part softly, deliberately, a look of sadness flashing briefly in your pretty, doe-like eyes.
A dull pang rippled through his chest.
He knew the implications of your words – the two of you never missed a meetup since this whole “deal” started.
And, like those days in the libraries or cafes where he found himself sitting before you, following your every word and direction, he now found himself moving towards you, a small pout forming on his scarred lips, as his strong arms caged you in until you were wedged between himself and the counter.
And, you knew he was huge before.
But now, up close, you realized just how large he was - his broad shoulders obscuring your view, his muscular chest rippling under the tight black shirt he wore, and his huge hands riddled with veins that climbed up, up, up his forearms.
He was overwhelming and all-consuming, surrounding your senses with the kind of intensity only he alone could pull off. You breathed in, your chest rising, fighting against the cotton of your ill-fitting top. He smelled of fresh pine and warm leather, clean and raw and manly.
You came here pissed, but now found your resolve completely fogged and muddled.
He leaned forward, dipping his head low, until his shaggy fringe tickled softly against the shell of your ear.
You knew he had been drinking, but the question was, did he know what he was doing right now? Was this purposeful? Was this real? You couldn’t quite tell, but the way his breath stuttered as his nose traced light patterns into your neck, the way he was breathing you in, and the way his hands periodically clenched onto the countertop as if to restrain himself, told you he was at least semi aware of what he was doing.
Your heart was hammering in your chest. The two of you never stood this close before, let alone touched each other.
You turned your head slightly, trying to put at least some ounce of space between your face and his.
But for him? That just would not do.
He slowly pulled away from your neck, his nose lightly mapping a path from the base of your neck, across the soft expanse of your cheek, to the tip of your own. Noses brushing, breaths mingling, chests heaving, and hearts pounding as his scarred lips hovered your glossed ones.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
The air between you was warm and thick, charged with something tender and so deeply intimate.
“Because you scare me,” he mumbled.
“Oh, really?” Your mouth twitched.
“Mm.” He nodded once, nose rubbing softly against yours in an eskimo kiss. You could see how his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips dangerously close to pressing against yours.
“‘Think ya cursed me.” His neck flushed red, his low voice was barely above a whisper.
“I can go-”
“Don’t.”
And then his large hands were latching onto your waist, the heat of his skin searing through the thin material of your skirt.
“Don’t. Don’tDon’tDon’t.” His brows scrunched together, his face becoming serious. “Don’t go. Don’t leave. Not when you’re here, with me, pretty girl.”
You breathed, taking your time to steady your voice after hearing the pet name roll off his tongue. “Then what should I do?”
“Stay.”
It was as simple as that, really.
And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft and commanding. He kissed you like you were sin, drinking you in, savoring you on his tongue, before inevitably, always inevitably, going back for more. He didn’t let you breathe; he wouldn’t. He was greedy and wrong and possessive, claiming your mouth like it was his alone to conquer. Your knees weakened as his tongue massaged against yours addictively, molding against you like you were made for him; like he was made for you.
Your hands moved before you could think, before you could decide if you were angry with him or if you hungered for him. You found purchase on his broad shoulders, before making your way up, up, up to his neck, one hand running through his dark hair while the other held onto the underside of his strong jaw, thumb gently caressing the scar on the side of his mouth, pulling him in.
He pressed into you further, your ass hitting the lower counter. His body was flush against yours, his chest purposefully rubbing against your tits.
He could feel your nipples hardening through the flimsy cotton of your top, and he couldn’t stop the sleazy grin that was forming on his face.
Below, his grip on you was gentle but firm, bringing your body to press and grind against his in an unhurried, languid way, like he had all the time in the world, like all of this was fated from the start.
And his fingers, oh his fingers, which spanned across your hip, slowly found their way to your ass, gripping and cupping and kneading into the soft, jiggly flesh.
You could feel something move against your thigh, something sturdy and heavy and completely fucking monstruous.
“Haah-” you shakily sighed out, breathy and dazed as you looked down to the outline of his bulge. Your eyes widened.
“I like when you use that smart mouth, y’know,” he was talking against your lips, not able to find it in himself to pull away. His hand slid up the side of your waist, until he stopped right underneath your breast, his thumb rubbing against the underside of where it started to swell.
His voice dropped an octave lower, whispering to you like it was a secret. “Talk to me. Break this curse. Tell me it’s not just me that feels like this.”
Please.
His heart was racing. He was stone cold sober. This was it. This was his admission.
ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–
You breathed.
The party raged on in the background, muddled and distant, like his ears were submerged under water–
“It’s not just you, Toji.”
Your voice was quiet, your cheeks tinted rouge, your pretty eyes looking up at him in earnest.
And that was all he needed.
He picked you up like you were nothing (his bench was 350 lbs, squat 600 lbs, and his hip thrusts? don’t even worry ‘bout it), a smug, victorious grin tugging at his scarred lips.
He carried you out of the kitchen, and a steady stream of wolf whistles and howls erupted from his frat brothers and party goers as the two of you made your way across the foyer, up the stairs, and towards a bedroom. His bedroom.
He carried you inside, keeping the lights off, letting the warm glow of the streetlamp beside his window spill softly across the room. Without a word, he set you down on his large king-sized bed.
The air in his room was tender and still. You could hear the faint bass of the stereo downstairs, vibrating against his wooden floors like a heartbeat. The distant cheers of the crowd down below faded to quiet as he pressed his mouth to your own.
He leisurely climbed over you, never breaking the kiss, his muscular arms holding his body above your own.
It didn’t take long for the makeout to turn heated again, teeth clashing against teeth, bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and teasing in a way that had your head spinning.
You put your hands against his chest.
“Toji-”
“Stay,” he breathed, whispering the words against your lips, like he could read your mind. “-Stay with me tonight,” he pressed his body closer into you, rutting his hips, “and lemme show you the things I’ve been wantin’ to say to you all week.”
You could feel his cock twitch ominously against your bare thigh as you swallowed.
His lips were swollen and glistening from your mixed salivas, his eyes glazed over, jade irises almost completely black. His grip on your lower body was unrelenting, holding you in place.
You lightly pushed your hand against his chest, a hesitant look crossing your features.
A beat passed. For a second, he didn’t even realize he stopped breathing.
“You’ve been drinking,” You paused, your voice coming out small. “What if.. what if you don’t mean this in the morning?”
And for all your expertise and genius, oh, how completely wrong you could be.
He let out a humorless chuckle, his sharp canines peaking through his lips in the process.
“Did it sound like I was jokin’, sweetheart?” He shakily exhaled through his nose as he pressed his erection against your clothed cunt, holding himself there, letting you feel the pressure and full weight of what he was packing. “Does it feel like I’m jokin’ ‘bout this?”
You bit your lip, pussy throbbing, a warm slickness starting to soak through your panties, before messily spreading between your clenched thighs.
You shook your head.
“What’d I say about usin’ your words?”
He pulsed his dick, the sensation making your pussy clench.
Fuckin’ tease.
“Nngh- no. No it doesn’t feel like you’re joking,” you almost gasp out.
A satisfied smirk plastered onto his tanned face.
“Good girl.”
And then he’s moving down the bed, his calloused hands spreading your legs as he pressed wet kisses against the hot skin of your thighs. He was methodical and slow, making his way up your inner thigh, savoring the small sounds that you tried to suppress as he reached the bottom hem of your skirt, his face mere inches away from your sopping pussy, and his breath puffing warm air against your dampened panties .
“Ohhh jus’ look at ya,” you could tell he had the most shit-eating grin on his face right now, pride swelling in his voice as he carefully dipped a large, rough finger between the seam of the thin purple fabric you adorned. “This all f’me?”
And - Holy shit.
The videos of you didn’t even do this justice.
Because low and behold, here you were, under his body, and you were so fuckin’ wet. His finger slid against your folds with little resistance, putting just enough pressure that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he rubbed circles against your clit.
And, Toji Fushiguro never claimed to be a patient man. So, it should’ve came as no surprise when he grabbed your hips and used his hulking strength to push your clothed pussy to his scarred lips, his face nuzzled to your cunt, nose pressed firmly to your clit, and his greedy tongue lapping you up through the soiled fabric.
It was obscene and perverse and dirty and wrong.
But oh, how he loved it. Loved the heady taste you left on your panties, and the sweet scent of your gushing pussy, and the excess slick on your thighs that made its way onto his rough cheeks.
He groaned, a low, guttural sound against your skin that made your tummy squeeze into knots.
“T-Toji, please,” you whined, pressing your greedy cunt into his face, “need your tongue. Need you. Need more.” You could hardly string a true sentence together, and he hadn’t even fucked you proper yet.
His heart was thunderous against his chest.
And his dick?
Hardest it’s ever fuckin’ been in his fuckin’ life.
He was grinding his erection against the mattress as he obliged your wishes.
After all, how could he say no to you?
He pushed your panties to the side.
And oh.
His balls tightened below him, the urge to cum almost threateningly near as he stared at your bare, swollen pussy.
Holy. Shit.
Everything was soaked and glistening.
He rubbed one thumb across your puffy skin, his coarse finger getting soaked in the process.
He leaned in, gingerly licking fat stripes along your folds, lapping you up, drinking you in. He worked thoroughly, gathering you onto his tongue, until the lower part of his face was a mixture of your juices and his drool.
It was only after he was satisfied with his work did he make his way to your clit, humming and sucking, the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your cunt filling the air of his room.
The warm pleasure of it all was beginning to pool in your belly, your toes beginning to curl, legs beginning to shake – but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
“Toji, I might-”
He plunged a rough, thick finger inside you, spearing your tight velvet walls apart, all the way up to his knuckle.
You saw fuckin’ stars.
The sound you made was so erotic, so loud and depraved and raw, that his dick lurched in his pants, warm gooey pre-cum beginning to leak out from his throbbing tip and into his briefs.
He wanted to hear you again, and again and again and again.
He wanted videos, home movies, and spotify playlists of the way your pussy was talking to him.
Emboldened, his tongue was unrelenting on your clit, as one finger became two, and then two became three.
You mewled as he crooked them up, massaging against that soft, spongey bundle of nerves that had you panting his name out like it was prayer.
Your ears were ringing, your eyes beginning to get wet with tears.
Soon, he was fucking you on his fingers proper, setting a debilitating pace as he plunged his digits in and out and in and out. Filling you up, stretching you out, hitting your most sensitive areas. Again, and again, and again.
The pressure in your core was reaching its limits now, and the pleasure from the sheer fullness of your pussy and the sinful patterns of his tongue were beginning to send violent tremors down your legs.
You were orgasming before you even realized it.
And yet, he was didn’t stop – didn’t even give you time to breathe as he’s diving into your pussy, slurping you up, his large nose rubbing against your over-sensitive clit as he’s fucking his thick tongue and his fingers past the tight ring of your entrance, fucking you, warm and wet, through each of your peaks.
Your hands held onto his hair like a lifeline, your fleshy thighs locked around his head as if to keep him in place.
“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes glazed over, completely and utterly pussy drunk, as you looked down at him, his mouth still latched onto your cunt.
You could see your slick dripping down his face, mixing with the light trails of perspiration that sprouted from his temples.
Your heart squeezed in your chest.
It was only after the last few waves of your orgasm subsided when you could finally respond.
“I think,” you gently reached down to run your shaky hand through his scalp, tenderly pushing away the sweaty fringe by his eyes. “I think I can think of something that might taste better.”
And then you’re pushing him until he’s moving to the top of the bed, his back resting against the headboard as he pulls his black shirt up and over his head, triceps flexing, exposing his muscular pecs, washboard abs, and the light tufts of hair that sprouted on his chest, and got increasingly darker the further down his abs it went.
You could feel your pussy walls clamp down, warmth pooling in your core again as you reached out instinctively to run your hands along the length of his torso.
You never thought, in all of your wildest dreams, that this would be happening. Nor could your dreams do justice to the perfect build of the man before you.
“Well look at you, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your soft hands slowly sliding up, up, up against his skin, all the way from where the dark tufts of thick hair started to disappear under his pants, and towards his pecs, feeling the way his traitorous heart stuttered as you called his name. “Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”
You held his gaze, the air around you charged with anticipation.
Who would move first?
His breathing was shallow as he stared at you, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Your top was rumpled to hell, exposing the line of your cleavage in a way that had his pants tenting painfully, and your mini skirt was so far scrunched that it looked like a belt around your waist.
“For others, sure…” He grabbed your hands, pressing them deeper into his skin as he slid them up to cup his face. “But for you?” he was whispering now, his ears growing steadily pinker by the second, “I’m afraid you have me beat.”
Oh.
And then you’re leaning in, tenderly pressing your lips to his own, mumbling his name over and over again to stop you from saying those other three little words, before sealing it with your tongue.
And then he’s pulling you into his lap.
You could taste yourself in his mouth and on his lips, your nipples tightening as his large hands grabbed handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before making them clap together again.
A muffled groan escaped from the depths of his chest, vibrating against your mouth, as he felt new gushes of your slick begin to dampen the front of his pants.
“Mmmnh- get comfortable, pretty girl.” He slurred out as he pulled at the waistband of your skirt, before letting go, allowing the material to slap against your skin with a light sting.
“Hmm… only if daddy gets comfortable too.” your eyes were big as you stared at him through your lashes.
And oh fuck.
Toji had to lean his head back, his skull hitting against the wall with a dull thud!
The way the words left your mouth had him breathless, brain short-circuiting, and dick throbbing. He needed to recuperate. Calm down.
Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat.
You smiled slyly, completely aware of how your words affected him, as you pulled your flimsy top off, followed by your bottomwear. Your tits were heavy and full as they were released from the cotton, nipples peaked and stiff.
You were bare before him, your arms on either side of his hips, squeezing your tits together lightly as you bent low to whisper against his ear.
“You like when I call you that?” Your voice was sweet as honey as your hands traced the large outline of his dick through his pants, gripping his shaft through the tight material, and feeling the monstrous size of his girth.
“Careful, sweetheart,” his voice was a mixture of restraint and warning, “don’t start callin’ me that unless y’er tryna see it through.” His neck was visibly tense, and his hands clutched on to the meat of your hips as he stared at you.
Pretty girl.
He squeezed tighter.
His pretty girl.
A moment of silence passed as you considered his words. “And what if I do wanna see it through…?” Your head tilted cutely while your mean hands found their way to his happy trail, running your nails down through the thick tufts of dark hair, dipping juuust below the waistband of his pants, before retreating back up again in slow, agonizing loops. “Show me your worst, daddy.”
And who was he to deny you?
Before you knew it, he had his pants and briefs shoved down his legs, his massive cock heavily thudding against his washboard abs
Your mouth gaped open.
And ohhh how he relished the dumb look on your lil’ cute face.
You didn’t even think anyone could be this large.
Yet here he was, with a dick that looked like it belonged in a porno, pulsing fat and heavy and huge as he leaked pre-cum all over the angry mushroomed head.
He smirked, cocky as ever, as you subconsciously licked your lips, eyes glazed over, cock drunk just off the look alone.
Your pussy gushed warm, new slick between your legs as you carefully leant down, your hands grabbing around his base, slowly bringing his dick closer to your face.
He could feel the warm puffs of air coming from ur plush lips, his dick twitching like crazy at how close you were to finally, finally getting your mouth on him.
You pressed a gentle kiss to his leaking slit, before running your lips over the excess pre-cum, painting your lips with the milky substance.
He swallowed hard. His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged.
He groped your tits, rolling your stiff nipples in his calloused fingers, eliciting the sweetest moan from you that reverberated around his dick.
You gave him small kitten licks at first, teasing the idea, before gradually licking thick fat stripes up and down the length of his huge dick. You traced the pulsing veins that climbed up his hot shaft and licked around the sensitive underside of his throbbing cockhead.
And it was only when his chest was heaving, his impatient hands gripping onto your skull, did you finally, finally begin to throat fuck the shit outta him.
None of the videos he had watched of you before even came close to the sensation of seeing the bulge forming in your throat from where his cock was buried inside of you, or the way your nose tickled against the tufts of dark hair at the base of his cock.
You moaned dreamily around him at the feeling of his heavy dick pounding against the back of your throat, filling your mouth and overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you bobbed him in your mouth, hands jerking off what you couldn’t reach, and your thighs rubbing together greedily, craving any ounce of friction against your throbbing pussy.
But before you knew it, he was lifting you off, a light string of saliva following en suit, connecting the two of you together.
“What’s wrong?” You had a devilish grin on your pretty face. “Scared you're gonna cum too quick?”
A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through his body as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, while the other smacked your ass.
“Nah,” his canines glinted in the lowlight, a predatorial grin etching into his features. “Just tryna make sure nothin’ gets wasted.” And then he's shifting you up, rubbing his thick cock against your gooey cunt, mixing his thick pre with your juices.
Your heart fluttered.
His dick was so warm against your skin – so, so much better (and bigger) than the toys you regularly used to get yourself off.
You’ve had enough. You’ve done your waiting. You needed him inside you.
You lifted yourself up, your hands bracing themselves on either side of Toji’s broad shoulders. Your pussy was dripping down onto his angry dick as you slowly lowered yourself, hips circling, letting his throbbing head trace your sopping lips.
He could have almost passed out from the sight alone.
Instead, he panted out a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to restrain himself from bucking up into your cunt.
You paused your hips, lowering yourself again ever so slightly so that his leaking head was now smooching against your gummy entrance, the heat of his cock stirring something warm and familiar in your belly.
Please, please, please, ple–
And then your pussy is swallowing his head whole.
“Oh, fuuuck you’re tight mama,” his eyes squeezed shut, fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead as Toji gasped out at the sensation of his thiiick cockhead squeezing past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance.
Your gummy walls sucked against him from all angles, squishing into his hardness and rubbing deliciously against the sensitive underside of his mushroomed tip.
And this was just the tip.
He didn’t know if he would make it out of here alive. At least, without getting you pregnant.
You whimpered, actually fuckin’ whimpered his name as you reached down, touching where he was spearing you apart, your lips drawn thin and tight to accommodate for the sheer size of him.
“You’re so big Toji,” a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. “Look at how much more I gotta take.” And he did, he really did look. Because you began to let your finger slowly slide from where the two of you were connected, down, down, down to the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.
“Haah- Ya’ think it’ll fit, sweetheart?” He grunted, his lips involuntarily bucking as you pouted cutely at him.
Something impassable flashed across your feature. “I’ll make it fuckin’ fit.”
And then you’re slamming down onto his dick, and it feels like the literal wind gets knocked out of both of your chests.
He has never felt something so deliciously tight before.
You have never felt so goddamn filled up before.
You’re clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering and smooching around his raw cock as it pulses heavy and thick with animalistic need.
It took you several moments to orient yourself, to gather your scrambled senses back together to remember what you were doing, what your goal was, why you were here.
“I have a secret to tell you.” You stared down at him, an unreadable look passing over your features.
“O-oh really?” you squeezed your walls around him, catching him off guard.
“I know you watch me touch myself,” you whispered it like it was a secret, sly and just a touch proud.
And of all the things you could’ve said, nothing would have prepared him for that.
His dick bobbed from inside of you.
“Fushi-daddy420 isn’t the most subtlest of names, no?” you grinned meanly as you watched his jade eyes turn impossibly black as you began to slowly, teasingly, mercifully bounce on his cock. Up and down and up and down.
“But-?”
He thought you would hate him if you knew.
He agonized for days for this reaction?!!
“And after you ran out on me after seeing my place?” you were panting, riding him as you talked. “Yea, that kinda solidified it.”
And just when he thinks you’ve found your rhythm and set your pace, you slowly begin to circle your hips, hitting new angles deep inside your guts that have his throbbing tip pressing into the spongy part of your pussy.
“You don’t -fuhh- don’t hate me?” his mind was swirling, how could he focus when you felt this good?
“Never.” Your hips rolled, and you pressed your tits together, giving him a show.
And you were doing so well, and felt so good. He pressed a fat thumb against your clit, spelling out his name, as if to claim you, mark you, over and over and over again.
T-O-J-I !
He throws his head back as he feels you creaming around his cock, while your eyes are rolling into the backs of your head as you feel his thick goopy pre frothing at your entrance, dripping down onto his balls. The pace is getting faster, the air getting hot, and thick beads of sweat are rolling down your back. The obscene sounds of sweaty skin slapping against skin filled the hot, sex-scented air.
You lean down to kiss him, tongues messily entangling, drool spilling from the sides of your lips as you ride his cock like a fuckin’ animal, ass jiggling from the force of his hips rocking up to meet you, his heavy balls smacking against your pussy like a promise.
In one swift motion, he’s flipping the two of you over, your back to the bed, his dick never leaving your pussy, as he continues to fuck into you. He has your legs spread wide, your knees to his sides as he buries himself deep within your warmth, the new angle allowing you to feel his fat tip smooching against your cervix.
He’s panting, breath shaky as he slows down, rutting shallowly, not allowing himself to be too far from your gummy insides. “T-tell me where you want it,” his voice came out strained, and you could see where his veins were protruding on his neck.
Oh. His cum.
His balls were pressed against you, tightening with every passing second. You could feel his dick bobbing against your walls as he was direly trying to stop himself from cumming.
You smiled, soft and sweet, as you pressed a hand against your lower tummy, feeling the bulge of where he was nestled inside you.
“Oh, you already know,” and you were batting your pretty lashes up at him, making his heart stutter. “Isn’t that right, daddy?”
And oh, how his broken mind snapped.
The next thing you knew, he’s pressing your knees so far up they’re knocking against your tits, his hulking body leaning over and pressing down into you, chest against chest, until you could feel his warm lips sucking bruises by your ear.
And then he’s draaagging his thick cock through your pussy until only the tip is inside you, before snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock the deepest it could go back inside you, spearing you apart, and setting an absolutely cruel, delicious, depraved pace that has his balls bruising your ass and his cock breeching your womb.
It goes for what feels like seconds, minutes, hours.
Your legs began to shake at all the sensations, your pussy walls convulsing around him and your ears ringing as you started to see white.
And he truly couldn’t keep it in any longer.
Not when you sounded so hot, with your face scrunched up in the prettiest ‘o’ and your nails digging crescents into his back as you called his name, begging for his seed.
And so he bucked up, his hips flush against yours, locking you into the meanest of mating presses, as his dick lurched, balls scrunching, as he pumped copious amounts of his thick, sticky cum straight into your womb.
And he’s still bucking his hips, through each of your peaks, fucking his cum deep inside you, until your belly was bloated and full of him.
“Thattaa girl,” he pressed a warm kiss to your mouth as he fucked you through the last few peaks of your orgasms, gingerly swiping his thumb across your cheek as if you were something precious. “My girl.”
And later on, as you softly drifted to sleep, with a belly full of his cum and his softening dick still inside you, you could feel his scarred lips pressing light kisses across your face, and the mumblings of something that sounded vaguely too close to “iloveyou” whispered into your warm skin.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.
After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.
There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side.
Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).
He still kept his same protein shake recipe.
He still kept his same choice of attire.
But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb.
And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38.
And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend.
mechanic!sevika, clueless!reader, top!sevika, bottom!reader, horny yearning, praise, strap use (r!receiving), rough sev, i call a “wife beater” a wife pleaser
𑣲men n minors dni !!
ִֶָ˖ִ 🔧˚ mechanic!sevika who became immediately infatuated with you the first time she saw you: wearing a loose mini dress, in need of a simple oil change. something in her panicked; she needed to see you again. in an act of both cowardice and desperation she sabotaged your engine...
after only being gone for a week you stand before her, pouting in a way that makes sevika’s clit throb with need.
“i have no idea what happened! my engine was fine until a few days ago!”
sevika gives you a small smirk, trying her best not to give herself away. “no clue, pretty girl. i’ll tell you what—let me fix this for you for free, hm?”
your jaw goes slack with surprise. sevika’s mind immediately goes to all the things she could do with such a pretty mouth.
“you’d do that for me?”
“anything for you~” sevika nonchalantly shrugs.
ִֶָ˖ִ 🔧˚ mechanic!sevika who makes sure you see her covered in soot and sweat after working on your car. she knows you’re looking at each and every curve in her muscular body; at the way the fluorescent lights bounce off her her dark complexion.
“something the matter?” she asks, feigning concern.
face burning, snapping out of your trance you sputter out “n-nope! all good! thanks, see you next time!” you grab your keys scurrying out of the shop, eager for the next time you get to see her.
ִֶָ˖ִ 🔧˚ mechanic!sevika who grunts and groans whenever she comes across a tough screw. opting to use her mechanic arm to unscrew whatever is keeping her from the problem area. muttering to herself,
“mmh—fuck! tough ass bolt,” …. “ngh…goddamn it…”
ִֶָ˖ִ 🔧˚ mechanic!sevika runs her own shop with about four employees so most nights it’s just you and her. she plays soft rock music while she works on your car. you watch her legs from under your car, catching a glimpse of her strong arm every now and then. the sight makes you clench your legs together.
sevika has a sixth sense for you at this point, she peaks from underneath the vehicle, quietly watching you squeeze your plush legs together. it couldn’t be coincidence that you always wore short skirts when you came to get your car worked on…
once she’s done, sevika rolls out from under your car, grunting as she stands. “all done, d’you have any questions?”
she towers over you in your seated position. you can’t help but stare at her beefy chest and grease-stained shirt. sevika raises an eyebrow.
“up here, girl.”
instinctively you look up.
“good girl, now did you have any questions?”
you struggle to maintain eye contact, it’s no use anyway, the way your voice quivers completely gives you away.
“uhm… no, thanks a-again!” you stand to take your keys and scurry as usual, but sevika uses her mechanic arm to pin your body against the wall.
“you sure? nothing else i can help you with?” she draws out her words teasingly.
ִֶָ˖ִ 🔧˚ mechanic!sevika who now has you propped up on her work bench, miscellaneous tools and parts discarded across the concrete floor.
sevika mercilessly drills into your leaking pussy, her pace is relentless yet you don’t dare to tell her to stop. you’ve dreamt about her bullying your pussy like this far too long to let it stop.
sevika’s thick strap completely fills you up, leaving you speechless at the borderline overwhelming sensation. you weakly grab at her wife pleaser, your back arching against her chest.
“that’s right,” sevika deeply huffs in your ear, “doing so so good for me, keep it up pretty girl…”
cw: face slap, heavy degradation kink but also praise kink because she likes to fuck with you like that, orgasm denial, spit kink, mommy kink. all consensual!
dombottom!sevika x subtop!reader where you want to pleasure sevika in other ways but lack experience with straps, so sevika takes advantage of that.
you put on a strap, one of the thickest, longest ones, and sevika ties your wrists and ankles so she can ride you relentlessly while humiliating you. she’s so wet, receptive, fucking dripping while going up and down on your dick, but you can’t move, can’t hold and squeeze her teasing hips, can’t do much with your own hips either, so you just turn into a sobbing, pathetic mess below her.
sevika chuckles darkly, one hand cupping your face damp with tears and sweat. “what is it? why is my little fuck toy whining? thought she was better than this.”
“s–sev..please let me–let me touch you! please!” right after the pleas left your mouth, her hand went down on your face.
a smacking sound echoing in the dark room. you pathetically moaned at the action, desperately trying to thrust. she let out another dark chuckle at your freakiness.
“god, you’re such a slut.” she held your face again, holding your chin, stopping the riding for an instant. “you think you have the right to touch me? you can’t even use a strap properly. see this? i need to do all the work because you’re too stupid to do it by yourself. isn’t that true?”
her condescending tone accompanied by a particularly forceful, sudden thrust of her hips that made her breath hitch at the toy’s depth and made you whimper at the pressure against your clit brought tears back again to your eyes. you fought to keep them from falling, feeling even more pathetic for being on the verge of orgasm thanks to her harsh words.
“my poor doll, was mommy too harsh on you?” despite her gentle tone, she slid two fingers into your mouth. you sucked them immediately. “good girl. maybe you’re not too dumb.”
she applied a bit of downward pressure on your tongue, a silent command to open your mouth. then, she gathered saliva and spat it into your mouth, withdrawing her fingers so you would close and swallow. as soon as she saw your throat move with the swallow, she returned to her starting position and resumed bouncing on your strap. strongly, faster, insatiable.
sevika’s moans and grunts were back. a perfect melody to your ears and a perfect vision for your needy mind.
“keep your mouth shut and maybe...ah..maybe i will let you cum tonight.”
Warnings: future mother-in-law!Sevika, fauxcest? Maybe?, reader is bi (ik kill me I'm sorry), g!p Sevika, dub-con, being laced, breeding + breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation.
Impatient. Everytime you come to visit, Sevika gets more and more upset by the fact that you're not knocked up. You're dating her son and for the love of god she doesn't know what he's doing... but it's wrong. Sevika is convinced she could get the job done with one fuck, and then you'd be swelling with a kid like you've always wanted.
When she first met you, she liked that you knew what you wanted with her son, you knew you wanted a family- and god you were so sweet, she knew you'd make a great, caring mother. If she's being completely honest, all she wants to see is you glowing and swollen, carrying the child that will continue her strong bloodline, keep the family going.
So, when she first had the idea of taking it into her own hands... she told herself it was insane, that you'd never agree to it. Why would you let your partners parent knock you up? Though your gaze always lingered on her, she noticed because hers lingers on you too. You're a pretty little thing, young and willing to experience anything at least once - which is why Sevika decided to try, just once. If you didn't reciprocate then she'd back off... maybe.
"Still not happened yet honey?" Sevika asks casually as you sit on the couch, sipping the tea she made you with a relaxant pill slipped in. It wouldn't cloud your judgement or anything, you were still conscious and well though any anxiety you might feel wouldn't rise to the surface.
"No." You let out a small sigh, setting your mug down on the coffee table. "We've been trying but it's not... it's not happening."
Sevika can see the glint of something in your eyes, sadness maybe, or frustration?
"You really want it, don't you honey?" Natrually she pats your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh underneath her fingertips. At her touch your breath catches slightly, her hand was a lot higher up on your thigh than a casual touch... yet you didn't hate it, in fact you felt guilty for liking it so much.
"Maybe it's something to do with me... maybe my eggs aren't right or something..."
No. Sevika wouldn't have that. She refused to let you think that this was your fault, it was clearly her sons fault.
So... she did something about it. Like the perfect future mother-in-law she is.
⊹˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•₊˚⊹
"Take it baby, takin' it so good for me... just a little longer, sweet girl-" The wet plap plap plap echoed off the walls as Sevika's hips met yours with each punishing thrust. Her hand was tangled in your hair at the base of your neck, pulling your head up just enough so you could see yourself in the floor to ceiling mirror.
You were on your knees, breasts squished flat into the floor, hands fisting in the rug beneath you. With each pummel of her cock deep inside you, your hips and ass were jiggling with the impact. Soft moans and whimpers were all you could let escape now- Sevika had wrung three orgasms out of you before fucking you, before manhandling you to the floor to breed you properly. "Look so f'kin pretty like this, sweetheart. All cryin' and whinin' for me... gonna fill you up so good.. so good..."
All you want is to tell her that it's too much, it feels too good. The words die in your throat as another pathetic moan is ripped from you instead. Your head felt light, like you were floating on clouds, sex had never felt so good, so right... Sevika loved it, how accepting you were of her harsh thrusts, her rough hands on you hips as she pulled you back onto her with zero resistance.
The pill was a good idea.
A creamy, white ring was forming around the base of her cock, forming white strings that kept her connected to with each grind of her hips. She runs her hands up and down your sides, letting out a guttural groan as her still still, thighs twitching as her second load bursts into you, filling you up. "That's it love... told you 'm gonna get get you nice and swollen f' me."
From the way her hips started up again, you could tell Sevika was nowhere near finished with you... and everything in you loved it. Wanted more. Wanted... her. Even if it was wrong, it felt so right.
if you’re maga or close to someone who is - hell, if you aren’t adamantly against maga - you really don’t belong in a fandom filled with queer people, women, disabled people and poc.
this comes from seeing a certain sevika writer agreeing with the stupid ‘it’s none of my concern if my friends are maga, we just need to love one another’ bullshit.
this is no longer ‘just political’. it is a complete lack of morals.
Drabble: g!p Sevika who walks like it's heavy. That's it.
If there's one thing about Sevika that you adore, it's the way she walks.
Since the very first time you saw her, her walk told you everything you needed to know. She was tall and broad, muscles bulging even when relaxed. Natraully a protector... at least of what she feels needs protecting.
Though the thing you noticed? It's heavy.
Sevika walks around with the confidence she absolutely should have, knowing she's packing a thick, heavy, fat, girthy cock in her pants. Snatched waist, hips that sway like she knows exactly how to use it. A natural advantage that destroys you in the most delicious way.
Her bulge almost always looks like she's aroused even when she's not. The moster tucked away but undeniably there, unable to hide the sheer size of it. And when she's a little chubbed up from watching you do... well anything? She can't hide it. Has to sit down for ten minutes.
From the early days of your relationship she set rules... disguised as being for you but if she was honest they're mostly for her. No kisses longer than a peck in public, she doesn't want to be walking around visibly excited when she know people would be able to tell. On top of that you're not allowed to wearanything too sexy or pretty for the exact same reason- not unless you're willing to let her take you to the bathroom to sort the issue you created.
tags: power exchange, brat-taming, pussy spanking, penetration, refers to strap as cock, slight cnc, rough angry fucking
you’re so goddamn proud of yourself.
straddling sevika’s lap, your fingers are still buried inside her, knuckles glistening with the proof of your power. you just made her beg. sevika. the enforcer. the baddest bitch in zaun. her muscles were shaking, teeth gritted, hips rutting into your hand until the ropes creaked and the chair nearly gave out.
you grin down at her, drunk on the high of control. it felt nice.
she’s panting. her skins flushed and slick with sweat and restraint. the ropes are still taut, flesh wrist red where you tied it too tight, her metal arm gleaming where it’s secured behind the beam. if looks could kill, you'd be twenty feet underground.
she shouldn’t be able to move.
so you think you’re safe.
you think you’re still in charge.
she lets you think that.
lets you kiss her slow. tongue shallow. lets you moan a little like a bitch in heat while you grind on her thigh again, fingers curling sweet around her jaw like she’s your plaything.
your fatal fucking mistake?
you didn’t see the flash of movement when you leaned in or the shift of weight under you.
and you definitely didn’t feel the blade she'd hidden in the lining of her waistband. or hear the snick of metal sliding against rope. didn’t notice the flex of her bicep as the knot around her mechanical wrist gave way.
not until her hand snaps forward and grabs your throat.
“what the fuck,” she growls, voice low and lethal.
your breath chokes in your lungs. you gasp, frozen, thighs tensing. her other wrist rips free. the ropes go slack.
your eyes go wide.
“wait—how did you—”
“quiet,” she snarls, already lifting you like you weigh nothing.
and then you’re over her knee.
face-down. ass-up. hips suspended over thick thighs that feel more like a trap than a seat.
“you think i wouldn’t get outta that?” she snaps, voice sharp and furious in your ear, fingers dragging your panties down to your knees in one brutal tug. “three knots? you think three knots could hold me, doll?”
“i didn’t-sevika, fuck—!”
her hand comes down hard.
SMACK.
right over your dripping pussy.
you scream.
your thighs jerk, your body bucks, but her arm slams across your back, holds you down.
“you fucked around,” she growls, another slap, wetter this time, “now you’re finding out.”
SMACK.
you’re soaked. every hit makes it messier, obscenely loud.
“you think you can mock me?”
another slap.
“edge me?”
another, harder.
“leave me tied like some fucktoy while you grind your pretty little cunt on my thigh?”
“m’ sorry, i was just—!”
“what, baby?” her hand cups your pussy. slaps again. “just playing?”
you sob into the chair. she’s not even fucking you, just spanking your cunt over and over until your clit’s throbbing, your thighs twitching, and your body’s bucking in raw need.
“i begged,” she snarls, pressing the soaked mess of you down into her thigh, grinding her hand into your slick, “and you laughed. you made me beg, doll. so now?”
another slap. your hips jerk each time.
“now i’m gonna make you cry.”
she spanks your cunt until you’re sobbing, drooling, whining, begging, grinding into her hand like some overstimmed thing that forgot what mercy even was.
and she dosn’t give you time to recover.
you’re still slumped over her knee, dazed and slick and ruined from the spanking, when she drags you up by the back of your neck and throws you on the bed. your legs barely have the strength to keep you upright.
you try to look up to see what she’s doing.
and then you see it.
her strap.
not her regular one. this is a monster.
fat, black, heavy, thick as her fucking wrist. it’s strapped low on her hips, harness pulled tight. her abs flexed as she stepped forward, the head of the strap already slick with lube she spread on.
you scramble back on your elbows.
“woah—wait—”
she tilts her head, silver eyes dark and gleaming.
“you don't get to wait.”
she grabs your ankle, yanks you down the bed like you weigh nothing, spreads your legs and climbs between them, the fat head of that cock slapping heavy against your cunt with a wet, stinging smack.
“you wanted control,” she fists the base, lining it up. “you wanted to tie me up, run that bratty fuckin’ mouth, make me beg—”
she slaps your clit with the head again. “so now you’re gonna take what you’re fucking given.”
and she pushes in.
the length is thick and unrelenting. your cunt stretches wide, too fast, too much, the burn making your back arch, mouth falling open in a silent scream. her eyes scan over your face for signs of pain and finds none. just overwhelm.
you clutch at her arms, nails digging into her biceps.
“sev, fuck-it’s too much!”
“take it,” she grits. “you’re gonna fucking take all of it.”
and she keeps going.
inch by throbbing inch, forcing that cock in until she bottoms out. until your walls are quivering around the base and you’re shaking under her like a live wire.
you’ve never felt so full.
“look at this greedy little cunt,” she breathes, pulling out half an inch just to slam back in. “fucking swallowing it already.”
she grabs your jaw and forces your eyes open, making you watch her while she starts to fuck you. hard.
full, brutal, body-snapping thrusts, her hips slamming into yours with heavy, echoing smacks. your whole body jolts with each one, legs trembling, eyes rolling back, lips parted in a dazed, ruined moan.
“you feel that, baby?” she pants, fingers sliding down to rub your clit with cruel circles. each hard thrust kissed your cervix. “feel me in your fuckin’ guts?”
you sob.
“c-can’t, can’t take it—”
“yes you can,” she snarls, snapping her hips faster. “you took control. now you’re gonna take this cock.”
your orgasm crashes like a goddamn explosion, thighs shaking and eyes rolled back far. but she doesn’t stop.
“oh, you’re cumming? good. ‘cause i’m not done.”
she flips you one-handed, face down, ass up. her hands grabs your hips and drive back in without warning. you scream into the mattress, fists twisted in the sheets, tears streaming down your face as she fucks you like a wild animal, balls deep and ruthless.
“stretching so good for me,” she growls. “this tight little hole needed a lesson.”
your voice is gone. just sobs, moans, slutty whimpers as your cunt gushes around that cock and leaks down your thighs.
sevika doesn’t stop until your whole body’s shaking, voice is ruined, and your cunt’s so wrecked it can’t close around the strap anymore.
and when she finally pulls out slowly, you drip.
she smirks and slaps your ass.
“get comfortable, doll,” her hands adjust your hips again. “we’re just getting started.”
roommate! toji is a little too comfortable around you it seems...
he isn't afraid to change with his door open, letting you catch a glimpse of his ripped physique every time you walk by. it's like he wants you to see his happy trail and v-neck, like he wants his body to be on your mind 24/7.
he aimlessly leaves his stuff all over the apartment, empty take out containers, discarded sweatshirts, you name it. he doesn't bother to pick up after himself, at least not unless you scold you. you swear he does it on purpose, because every time you get agitated with him there's a light that goes off in his eyes. sick bastard probably gets turned on by getting nagged at.
he'll call you doll or sweetheart without a second thought, they're his go-to nickname with you because he knows it flusters you to hell and back. sometimes you think he's forgotten your real name because it's all he seems to refer to you as. so, imagine how you feel, getting woken up in the middle of the night hearing how his voice rattles from across the hall. has he also forgotten how thin the walls are? you can hear him muttering "fuck doll, just like that, fucking take it all." that, paired with the slick sounds of his fist pumping makes you realize what he's doing. what a perv.
cw: explicit smut, creampie, your best friend toji can’t help but suck on your tits when they’re in his face.
You’re standing between his knees on the sagging couch, legs bracketing his spread thighs, trying to salvage something resembling “professional” out of his perpetually fucked-up hair.
He’s got an important meeting in like forty-five minutes—some back-alley deal with a couple ex-sorcerers who apparently pay stupid money for stupid jobs. “Good payout,” he’d grunted when he asked you to fix him up. That’s Toji code for “don’t ask questions and don’t make me late.”
You’re working fast. One hand cups the back of his head, steadying him; the other rakes through the damp black strands with a little water from a spray bottle and a pea-sized dollop of the cheap gel you keep in your bathroom drawer. His hair’s thick, stubborn, always falling into that lazy, dangerous flop over his forehead no matter what you do.
Your tank top is way too short and at least one size too small—rides up with every reach. You lean in closer to get the front right, elbows brushing his shoulders. The fabric stretches tight across your chest. One wrong shift and—Pop!
Your left tit slips free entirely, nipple already half-hard from the cool air and the friction of cotton all morning. It’s right there—swaying an inch from his nose. Toji goes still. You don’t notice at first. Too focused on sculpting that one rogue piece that refuses to behave. Then you feel it: warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin. Then—
His mouth closes around your nipple in one smooth, shameless motion. A wet, sucking pull. Tongue circling around your sensitive nipple. Your whole body locks up and you look down. “Toji—” he doesn’t stop, sucking harder as his cheeks hollow, as he laps at your breast. His eyes are half lidded, he’s clearly enjoying himself.
“Toji, what the fu—” Your nipple’s swollen, glistening, darker than the rest of you now, and the cool air after his mouth feels like a slap.
“They were right there,” he says again, rough hands running up your legs. His thumb brushes the crease where thigh meets ass. “Swingin’ in my face while you’re playin’ hairdresser. What’d you expect?”
You’re still standing between his spread thighs, his knees bracketing your legs, that stupid too-small tank top shoved up under your tits now from all the movement. You can see the thick outline of his cock straining against his sweats. “I was trying to make you look presentable for your shady little meeting,” you manage, trying for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to breathless. “Not… this.”
He smirks, green eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah?” He leans forward again, just enough to drag the flat of his tongue over the wet peak he just abandoned. You twitch, thighs squeezing together on instinct. “You’re doin’ a shit job of actin’ mad about it, princess.”
His free hand comes up, cups the underside of the breast he hasn’t touched yet, thumb brushing over the neglected nipple until it pebbles tight. Then he’s guiding it slowly toward his mouth too, giving you every second to pull away. But you don’t.
Instead your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. The sound vibrates through you again and you feel yourself get wetter, slick gathering at the tops of your thighs. “Toji,” you whisper, half plea now. “You’ve got that meeting in—”
“Fuck the meeting,” he mutters, voice muffled as he latches onto the second nipple, sucking harder this time. His hand on your ass finally slides higher, fingers dipping under the hem of your shorts, finding damp cotton and pressing against your clit.
You choke on a moan, knees buckling. He steadies you, “Been watchin’ these tits spill out every damn time you lean over for months,” he growls against your skin, switching back to the first nipple like he can’t decide which one he likes better. “You think I don’t notice? Think I’m not hard as fuck every time you ‘accidentally’ flash me?”
He nips and your hips jerk forward against his hand.“Say stop,” he rasps, finally pulling back far enough to look up at you. Lips shiny, pupils blown. “Say it and I’ll stop. We’ll fix my hair, I’ll go make my sketchy money, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
His fingers flex against your soaked panties—“Or…” He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting you there. “You can keep standin’ there lettin’ me suck on you till you’re drippin’ down my wrist. Your call, baby.”
His free hand grips your ass, kneading, spreading you open a little as his fingers dip lower—two sliding through your folds, coating themselves before pushing inside slow. You clench around him instantly moaning, “Toji—oh god—”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he growls. You can’t even form words—just a needy whine as he switches breasts again, sucking the other one deep while his thumb rubs messy circles over your clit.
When you finally slump forward, forehead dropping to the top of his head, he eases his fingers out slow, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean with a satisfied hum. “Good girl,” he rasps, pulling them free with a soft pop. “Now turn around.”
Before you can even process it, his big hands are on your hips, spinning you so your back is to him. He yanks your shorts and panties the rest of the way down in one rough tug, letting them tangle around your ankles. Then he’s hauling you back, sitting you down hard on his lap so your bare ass lands right on the fat, throbbing length of him still trapped in his sweats.
You grind back on instinct, slick pussy lips sliding along the thick ridge of his cock through the thin barrier. He shifts under you—hips lifting just a fraction—and you feel the slow drag of fabric as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and his cock flaps free. The fat head pops past your tight hole and into your wet cunt. “You’re such a perv,” you gasp, “All those times I ‘accidentally’ flashed you in the kitchen? Under the car hood when I was helpin’ with your junker? You were just sittin’ there gettin’ boners, huh?”
“Damn right.” He nibbles at you ear as he bounces you. “That time at the beach? Bikini top slippin’ while you bent over for the cooler? Nearly nutted in my trunks right there in front of everybody.” He punctuates it with a sharp slap to your inner thigh, “And don’t get me started on laundry day. Your shitty dryer always eatin’ your bras—tits bouncin’ free every time you reach for the high shelf. Been jerkin’ off to that for weeks, princess.”
“Fuck—you never said shit.” You’re panting now, grinding faster, the wet schlick of your pussy against his cock. “Why would I? You kept doin’ it.” He nips your shoulder, free hand coming up to maul your breast again—pinching the nipple he’d sucked raw earlier until you yelp.
You glance down between your bodies just in time to see it—his cock glistening, veins bulging, coated in your cream every time you lift up. The sight makes you clench hard; he curses under his breath, hips snapping up harder in retaliation. “Shit—do that again.”
You do—squeezing down on every upstroke, fluttering around the head when he’s almost out, you’re arching back against his chest, head thrown on his shoulder. “Gonna cum already?” he taunts, “Barely started and you’re shakin’ hard as hell.”
“Shut—shut up—” you gasp, but you’re too close, too full, too overwhelmed by his cock. “Just—don’t stop—fuck, Toji—” your whole body locks up, pussy spasming violently around him as you scream his name. His punishing thrusts, drawing it out until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.
“Fuck—good girl—cummin’ so hard on me—” His rhythm stutters as hot pulses fill your pussy, you can feel it leaking down your thighs, warm and sticky, mixing with your own mess.
Eventually he huffs a laugh, voice hoarse. “Hair’s completely fucked now.” You snort weakly, “Your meeting…”
“Fuck the meeting.” He nuzzles into your neck, one hand sliding up to cup your breast again, thumb circling the swollen nipple. “Got better things to do. Like gettin’ you to the bedroom so I can eat this pussy properly. Wanna taste what we just made.”
a/n: ima whore for a good titty suck like fuckkkkk
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
discoholicmusic
ellievsbear
izzy806
gummygunk
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
