𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count— 14.7K, original!blackfemalecharacter, original!blackfemprekteacher, megumifushiguro implemented!, tojifushiguro!, southerncoded!toji, aggressive!toji, dadcoded!fushiguro, sweet!toji, dominant!toji, possessive!toji, pet names, dirtytalk!, rough!sex, unprotected!sex, nutting on face!, swallowing!, squirting!, creaming!, stand and carry position, riding, doggy style, pussy eating, dick sucking, minors are not welcome! 𓊇ྀི
メモ。— a lil’ late night post, will apologize for that. but hey, it’s me. had to post mine + apparently y’all’s favorite toji fic first, teehee. and bc i didn’t do it last time, will preface by saying the main characters name is asael, pronounced ah—sigh—yell, bc i think some of y’all were confused. anyways, here’s cinnamon remastered— cute, hot, sexy times combined into one fic ! love you, hope you enjoy.
ビジュアル。
DOODLES OF SPIDER-MAN WERE DRAWN ON THE RIGHT CORNER OF HIS PAPER, THE HANDWRITING EASILY RECOGNIZABLE TO HER SLENDER EYES. A small grin rises on her full lips, vision flickering up to search for her favorite student—there he was, bashful unintentionally, darkened hair and flushed cheeks hiding within his journal as usual.
Some children were like him, while some weren’t. She adored her career within education, a Pre-K teacher always being the walk of life she’d wanted for herself—it’s was their genuine giggles, their doe eyes curious with every question, their excitement of learning something new each and every day—if anything, it made her feel like the same superhero drawn upon the paper she currently graded. Speaking of that drawing, it belonged to a particular student of hers. Megumi.
She wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but he was hers.
Onyx hair that sprawled around his head, round deep blue irises that beamed when something caught his interest, to the shy giggle he gave when he found something entertaining. She never had any problems with Megumi—well, all but one.
Anti-social was an understatement. He would stay inside and draw rather than be outside during recess, and his refusal to participate in group activities didn’t make it any better. She respected her students and their personal space, but after a year of the same pattern? It was starting to become concerning.
They were all currently assigned to work stations, finding him in the Art corner of the room, of course. Doing a brief check of each station, she tip-toes over to a yellow table, the painted oak glowing an amber hue from the years of it being used.
“Hey, Meg. You okay?”
When she doesn’t receive an answer, she gives a warm smile to her other student at the table. Layla. Tawny brown skin beautifully complimented with her light brown pigtails, humming softly as she scribbles her own drawings on construction paper.
So she tries again, “Did you see what Layla drew?”
Megumi peers up at his teacher, face hidden underneath the veil of his messy bangs. As usual, his cheeks gain that familiar crimson color, and he nods. He didn’t mean to ignore her, he just had his focus on something—in this case, another Spider-Man drawing. At his teacher mentioning Layla—he leans over towards her paper with wide eyes. The drawing was of a family, a mom, dad, and their baby all sitting on a picnic blanket.
The only thing she receives is the smallest mumble of, “Pretty,” as he quickly goes back to his own craft.
She blows out a soft exhale.
“It is.”
At another attempt, she leans in closer—her fingers point to the little girl’s drawing, “Hey, Lala. That’s a pretty picture. Did you see Megumi’s drawing?”
Layla lifts her head and immediately smiles. The five year old loved to talk, which was the opposite of Megumi, a bundle of sunshine ready to explode next to the starry night that was her classmate.
“Mhm!”
Layla leans forward to get a better look, brown curls bouncing with her gasp, “That’s so cool!”
Megumi visibly preens at the compliment, eyes widening like a puppy would as they receive a treat. Being a more timid child, he wasn’t one to receive the attention of others too often, so when it happened? It was all the more special.
His round face beams, turning a darker shade of pink as he nods his head rapidly, “…I did it all by myself.”
“How about you show Layla the Spider-Girl you drew? Better yet, you can make her one to take home, yeah?”
“I love Spider-Girl!” Layla gasps, “Can III get one, Megumi?”
Megumi’s eyes light up like twinkling stars. The shy boy nods his head eagerly, happy to have someone interested in something he enjoyed, a slight smile now spreading across his small face.
“Mhm…”
He nods his head, going into his desk as he then says, “I can make you another Spider-girl one, this one’s for my dad, okay?”
A giggle escapes Layla, a nod in return as she bounces up and down in her chair, pigtails bobbing along with every move. Megumi starts to quickly draw another version of the super hero he so admired, but through this adorable interaction, he mentions something that does distract his teacher—his father.
Like Candyman or Bloody Mary, these were examples of ominous things that possibly existed, including her students' father. She’d attempted to contact him since the year started, Megumi’s nanny being the only person that dropped him off from the first day up until now. When she asked the nanny if there was any particular reason why he never showed up, it was always vague.
“He’s a busy man,” she’d say.
It wasn’t a teacher's business to pry, but she’d concluded something— The reason why Megumi clung to her so much? It was only because this attention was lacking at home. She proclaimed that whenever his father decided to make his grand entrance, she’d give him a piece of her mind.
She just didn’t know that day would be today.
“Hey, Ms. Honey.”
The familiar voice catches her attention—brown eyes flicker to the doorway of her classroom, seeing lavender overalls coated in colored handprints—Mrs. Emery, a teacher from across the hall that taught first grade.
“‘Afternoon, Mrs. Em.”
“I love your classroom—your kids are like the ultimate palate cleanser,” Mrs. Em grins, “Ready to get out of here?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ms. Honey sighs, “What’s with the painted overalls? I hope you aren’t exploring a new sense of fashion.”
“Girl, no. My first graders got a little carried away during art time—You’d think they were Picasso.”
“You look like you’ve been vandalized.”
“I was.”
The first grade teacher scans over the room, taking notice of an unfamiliar sight; Megumi leans into his classmate, showing her the drawing he was in the process of completing for her.
Mrs. Em’s eyes go slightly wide as she whispers, “Is that Megumi—making friends?”
Ms. Honey giggles softly, “Trying to. I asked him to show Layla his drawing, I thought he was gonna faint.”
Mrs. Em grinned at her words, hands landing on her hips with a slight laugh, “He’s so shy, what a cutie.”
“I just wish he wouldn’t be so afraid to make friends, you know? Everyone in class always wants to talk to him—And his drawings? It’s nothing I’ve ever seen from a five year old. They’re phenomenal,” she crosses her arms, “You’d think he’d want the company since he’s an only child. I know how lonely that can be.”
“Speaking of home, any updates on Mysterious Daddy?” she raises a brow, “I still need the details on that.”
“Girl, if only there were details to give—I have to go through an interview just to have the nanny tell me he can’t talk—I’ve never spoken to the man directly. To make matters worse, she’s terrified of him.”
“No email?”
“Not even a letter from a bird,” Ms. Honey counters, “The nanny also said she only speaks with him when it’s close to Megumi’s bed time—She doesn’t know what he does for work, nor does she feel the need to ask.”
Mrs. Em leans her elbow on a bookshelf, raising a brow at the information she was given, “Sounds like a mob boss, if you ask me.”
Ms. Honey shoots her a look, shaking her head before saying, “If you ask me, he’s a lazy parent or doesn’t even want to be one. What man can’t talk to his child’s teacher about his own kid?”
Both women’s gaze fell towards Megumi once more, the little boy now showing the finished drawing to another classmate that peered over his shoulder with curiosity.
“At least he has you, Ms. Honey. You’re practically a Mommy.”
Ms. Honey sighs, a small smile at the notion, “I’m trying—But it’s not enough. I can tell he craves that one on one attention from a parent, and that’s not something I can fully give as his teacher.”
“Are you gonna give his father a piece of your mind if he ever comes up here?”
“A piece of it? No. My entire cranium? Absolutely.”
Mrs. Em grins widely at that, letting out a chuckle as she concludes, “Now that I’d pay to see.”
The two women continued their gossip for another minute or so—but this introduction needed no words to gain attention.
Cologne wafts at their nostrils, pulling their eyes in the direction of the classroom’s door frame.
A scar. Jagging across full, deep pink lips told Ms. Honey everything she needed to know. The scent of him was sharp and spicy—an epitome of masculinity, heavy boots made for the ground to quake with every step he took—eyes grey, but dark enough to appear almost black, like a raging storm in an unforgiving ocean beneath his equally onyx eyebrows and hair. His broad shoulders were camouflaged by a sable shirt, tight along his hard torso that almost pulled inwards—that’s just how built he was.
The two women went silent in their conversation, eyes widening at the presence that stood in the classroom’s doorway—He stood tall, so tall that both of the teachers had to look up from where they stood, their eyes scanning his body with clear intrigue. Tattoos, tattoos, tattoos. They cover his body like art, all the way up to where his neck ended and his jaw began—but the star of show was a skull seeping within the flesh of his throat on the left side, radiating an intimidation Ms. Honey never thought she’d engage with. He dropped the motorbike helmet and leather jacket he held within a vein covered palm, furrowed brows searching for something—or someone within the room.
"Who's that?”
Ms. Honey murmurs, “…I don’t know.”
The moment his stormy eyes lock onto hers, it’s like lightning striking twice—She could feel the crackle of tension in the air as his gaze rakes her frame. A rose blooms against the side of her neck, the wine red ink contrasting with her honey brown freckles and caramel complexion. His vision drags lower—taking in the curve of her waist, hips that sway even when she stands still, legs barely hidden beneath the flowing burgundy fabric of her skirt. The deep ginger of her curls are snatched into a ponytail to show the pure beauty of her face, edges curled along her forehead, spiraling down to her lower back.
Giving a comforting touch to Mrs. Em’s arm, she then makes her way over towards the door—a polite smile reaches her lips, “Good afternoon, um—I don’t think you have the right classroom, what teacher are you looking for?”
The man’s eyes never wavered from her form. He noticed a nervous habit as she tugged on her ponytail, anxious as she waited for a response. Her scent then wafts his nose—Cinnamon.
“Nah.”
His voice had a rasp, a deep baritone that crawled through her entire spine.
“I’m in the right place. ‘You Ms. Honey?”
Her eyebrows raise up.
She replies, “Um, I am. I just—I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you to be one of my students' parents,” she places her hands behind her back, his eyes dropping down to her physique, eyebrow twitching.
“I’m Megumi’s father, Toji Fushiguro.”
His words hit her like a ton of bricks. All that shit talking had gone out of the window, never expecting this to be the moment of their long awaited confrontation.
“Oh,” she murmurs out loud, turning back into the classroom’s direction, “Mrs. Emery, would you mind getting the kids started with dismissal?”
Her first grade colleague nods, “Alright—let’s gather all our things and get ready to leave for the day!”
Ms. Honey’s smile fades as she turns back in his direction—she exhales, “So, you’re Megumi’s father?”
“Yeah,” he grunts, “That’s what I just said.”
She blinks at that.
Reaching a hand out anyway, she smiles, “It’s finally nice to meet you! You’re the person I’ve been wanting to speak to, actually.”
A hand never comes out in return.
“You’re the one with concerns ‘bout how I’m raisin’ my kid.”
Okay, so he wasn’t the type to be passive aggressive. Just aggressive aggressive.
Ms. Honey places her tongue within her cheek—she laughs awkwardly in response, “Well, I just more so wanted a conversation to happen between us. You’re a very difficult man to get in contact with,” she attempts to joke, “Would you have time to talk?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, biceps bulging through the fabric of his shirt—Toji glared down at her with those unreadable, steely eyes.
“I’m listenin’.”
Her chin lifts slightly at the challenge in his tone. Sweet as honey she may be, that sunny disposition began to dissipate.
“Well, Megumi’s a brilliant child—but he's struggling socially,” She keeps her voice low, “He avoids group activities, has an issue making friends, and the only thing that keeps his interest is his school work and drawing.”
“You’re upset ‘cause the kid ain’t a social butterfly?”
Her eyes squint at him.
She pensively disagrees, “No. When I asked him who he’s drawing for, he said his father. He seems to be seeking your approval, Mr. Fushiguro. It’s not my place to give tips on your parental guidance, but I’d give the notion that if you were more of a figure in your child’s life, his participant skills would bloom just like a social butterfly.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw.
“You’ got kids?”
The question makes an etch of emotion flicker across her face.
It fades, her voice flat as she responds, “No, sir. I don’t.”
“Then who the fuck are you to tell me ‘bout raisin’ mine?”
There it is. Her nostrils flare, irritation now rising at his response.
“What I am is somebody tellin’ you to watch your mouth around my students. Quickly,” her voice goes lower to repeat, “What I am is someone who knows with enough love and attention to your son, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place, Mr. Fushiguro.”
“You think you know me?” His voice was equally low, dangerous—each syllable dripping with warning, “You don’t know shit.”
Ms. Honey doesn’t flinch—her back straightens and she holds her ground, eyes blazing right back up at him despite the obvious difference in height and intimidation factor.
“I never said I knew you,” she counters, “But I do know your son—and he deserves to feel like he matters to somebody.”
“You don’t think he matters to me?”
His voice carries, “Who do you think puts the clothes on his back, the food in his mouth, tucks him in bed at night? I don’t need some gentle parentin’ bullshit ‘bout how to raise my own son. ‘Know I’m not one of those other parents you’re used to—I’m your worst goddamn nightmare.”
She knocks her face back, raising an eyebrow. Was this motherfucker trying to scare her? Who in the goddamn hell was he talking to?
All of her professionalism went out the window.
She sneered, “Come find me in my sleep, then. I’d appreciate the effort of at least faking as if you’re committed to having a child, rather than clockin’ in and out when you don’t feel like being a father.”
“Maybe I ain’t one of those fathers that bakes sugar cookies with my kid and reads him a bedtime story, Ms. Honey, but I’m present. I don’t need your fuckin’ advice.”
“Then double it and pass it to the next person, Mr. Fushiguro. I literally don’t give a fuck!—“
“Ms. Honey, can I take this book home with me from your shelf?”
A sweet voice calls from below, the teacher's attention being pulled away by a pair of doe eyes. Green, round and curious as they lift The Hungry Caterpillar in her direction.
The mindless eyes of her student Rhylin brings her to reality. She takes a step back, pressing her fingers softly into the four year old’s cheek—“Of course, baby boy. Make sure to bring it back tomorrow, okay?”
Rhylin nods profusely, scurrying off into the flurry of other children with no awareness of the tension between the two adults.
Her warm voice, her gentle touch, her calmness—how easily his son could have been on the receiving end of such a gentle, motherly natured woman didn’t go unnoticed—Toji shoved his hands deep within his pockets, the veins along them protruding as large fingers curled tightly into the black material.
When she faced this man again, it also made her realize that she’d made a fool of herself. She allowed him to rile her up in a way that she’d never interacted with a parent.
Taking a deep breath, she leaves him with, “I’ll go get Megumi.”
She makes her way over to the art station—squatting down, her fingers rake back the tousled hair sprawled along the five year old’s cheeks, “Hey, handsome. Look who’s here for you.”
Megumi’s head snaps up at her words, his dark blue eyes lighting up like tiny fireworks when they land on his father. In an instant, the shy little boy transforms—his small legs carry him across the classroom in a flurry of excitement, nearly tripping over his own feet as he bounds toward Toji.
Similar to his son, Toji’s entire demeanor shifts—the moment those tiny arms wrap around his leg, all that gruff hostility melts away. His large hands scoop Megumi up effortlessly, settling him against his chest with a tenderness that stuns Ms. Honey where she stands. The way he cradles the back of Megumi’s head with one palm while pressing a firm kiss to those messy black bangs, it doesn't match the man who was just snarling at her seconds ago.
His native tongue naturally flows through the scar of his full lips, voice deep, “Daijōbudesuka? Kyō wa dōdeshita ka?”
No response escapes Megumi at first, his round face buried into his father’s chest as his tiny arms tighten around the man’s broad neck. Toji doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the lack of words, stroking a callous palm down the back of his son’s head. Pressing his tiny face into his father’s neck, he then murmurs back in Japanese—quiet words that only his father could hear. The man hums in response, rubbing circles along the boy’s back with rough fingers that somehow handle him so carefully.
The contrast is jarring.
Ms. Honey can only stand there frozen, still squatted by the art station as a realization settles over her—She might’ve been wrong.
“You wanna take home your morning snacks, Meg?”
She tries to sound normal, but her embarrassment of the previous interaction has her awkwardly smoothing out her skirt as a distraction.
Megumi peeks at her from over Toji’s shoulder—his cheeks still pressed against his father's neck, but he nods shyly, “Yes.”
She manages a smile despite the tension in the air, moving to gather up his little paper bag of snacks. She somehow avoids her gaze along Toji when she drops the bag in his hand, taking a breath as she clasps her palms together, “I didn’t hear the clean up song while Mrs. Emery instructed dismissal time!”
The entire class began reciting the tune, collecting up their last bit of things into their backpacks. If only she’d noticed the way a pair of eyes dropped down to her ass, watching the flesh jiggling with every step she took around the classroom.
“Bye, Megumi—“
A shriek interrupts her sentence as he swiftly drops from his father, tightly wrapping his arms around her lower half.
Ms. Honey can’t help her small giggle, hugging him back as she speaks softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, handsome. ‘Promise I’m not gonna run away.”
Megumi squeezes her middle even tighter, tiny fingers bunching up the fabric of her skirt as he buries his face against her hip. For someone so quiet, he sure knew how to make his affection loud—the sheer force of his hug nearly knocks the breath out of her.
She smooths a hand over his unruly black hair one last time before offering him that warm smile again, “I promise.”
With a final shy wave from Megumi, small fingers grasp onto Toji's much larger hand. His father gives their intertwined hands a gentle swing as they begin walking away—but not before those dark stormy eyes flicker back towards hers.
The weight of their gaze feels like lightning crackling between them—heavy and charged with something neither can name yet. Toji doesn't say another word though; just holds her in that silent stare for one heartbeat longer before turning on his heel, guiding Megumi out into the hallway.
When she turns back towards her classroom, her brown eyes go wide as saucers as she locks in with Mrs. Emery, who stands there with a hand pressed over her mouth to stifle laughter.
“How bad was that?”
Mrs. Em gives her an innocent shrug, hiding the slight grin on her lips with her hand.
“I definitely got my money’s worth.”
Yeah, it was bad.
Being left alone within the classroom gave her time to think as it was an hour after dismissal, wishing that conversation hadn’t gone so left. Crashing out on a parent could’ve gotten her fired.
She simmered on this thought as she sat at her desk going through her students homework, the buzz of a FaceTime call tugging her eyes in the direction of her phone.
Ezra.
She sighs, connecting the call in preparation to hear the rambles of her best friend.
“Yes, Ezra?”
Ezra groans dramatically as his face appears on her screen, brown skin and emerald green waves appearing through the camera. He draws out her first name, “Asael, I’m boooooreeeed.”
“Don’t you have that car show to go to later?” Asael looks over the camera, “Or have a little sneaky link to link with?”
Ezra rolls his eyes, “That last nigga was a lil’ hookup. Besides, you know I have a new boo—Cameron,” he dreamily sighs, “Speaking of, that’s actually what I called you for. The car show is tomorrow night—and you’re coming with me.”
“Says who?”
Ezra glares at her through the screen, a scowl falling across his flawless features.
“Says me. I need you there for moral support—what if all them’ country bama, Confederate flag loving niggas is out? I’m only going ‘cause my Cameron wants to show off his car. Or maybe, all the fine niggas will be out! You could find a sexy biker to swipe your little celibacy card,” he teases, ignoring the glare she sends back through the camera.
“It’s abstinence, smart ass.”
“A year of no dick is insane either way. You have a strong sense of mind and body,” Ezra hums.
“Anyways, I’m good. Not in the mood to watch a bunch of guys do donuts on the street for hours.”
Ezra pouts, his plump lips turning into a frown as he whines.
“Come on, it’s not gonna’ be just guys doing donuts. There’s going to be live music, food—hot guys, oh, and hot guys again! You know the fine niggas be on Bourbon Street.”
Asael thinks it over, tilting her head to the side.
“Hot guys, food, and hot guys with their cool cars? ‘Guess that doesn’t sound too bad.”
She finalizes, “I’ll come. I need a drink after the shitty day I’ve had.”
This piques Ezra’s interest.
“Do tell. Who pissed you off?”
“It’s not—“
She sighs, “Do you remember my student, Megumi?”
“The adorable little quiet one that draws all those Spiderman pictures? Of course I do—Wait,” Ezra gasps, pressing closer to the screen dramatically, “Did he get into a fight with another kid? Throw crayons at someone? Bite ‘em?!”
“Worse, I finally met his father. Ghostface ripped my ass to shreds. ‘Told me it wasn’t my business how he raised his son, that I needed to mind my own, and that I didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about.”
Ezra’s brows shoot up so high they almost disappear into his hair.
“Bitch, you’re lying.”
“Did I mention the bastard is the hottest fucker you’ve ever seen?” She adds on, seeing Ezra’s jaw drop down to the core of the earth.
Asael nods at his reaction, “The nigga could put a nun out of commission.”
“And he ate you up that bad?”
“‘Chewed me up and spit me out. I was ready to swing on his ass, but I’m starting to feel like that entire argument wasn’t my business to begin with. He seemed—comforted in Megumi’s presence.”
Asael then sighs, “But you know how I feel about his son, Ezra. I’m just afraid that the lack of attention will cause him to change.”
Ezra hums in thought, propping his chin on his palm.
“So let me get this straight—fine as hell, bad attitude, but then is all gentle with his kid?” he tilts his head, “‘Sounds like someone caught feelings after realizing he’s a good man.”
Asael scowls at him, “What? No. I just—”
“Aht,” Ezra cuts off , wagging a finger, “When men show softness like that? That’s how you know they got layers.”
“Whatever,” she huffs, “All I said was the nigga wasn’t wrong about me stepping out of line, I’m not tryna’ give him a bouquet of flowers. Now he hates me.”
"Don’t say that. You were just worried ‘bout baby boy, and that man knew it deep down."
Asael tugs at her pony tail once more—she parts a sigh from her lips once more, “I feel bad. I want to apologize—even if he was a dick.”
She leans back into her chair, rubbing a hand over her face as she groans, half covering her mouth as she quietly admits, “He had a fuckin’ neck tat, Ezra! I wanted to lick him.”
Ezra snickers, “‘Can’t believe you didn’t snap a picture with your eyes and mind transfer it to me,” he smacks his lips, “But seriously. If he comes to pick him up tomorrow, just take off your prideful panties and apologize! That’s all.”
“You think he’ll accept it?”
“You’re not apologizing for him to accept it.”
Asael grumbles, “Right. You’re annoying.”
“And also morally correct.”
She softly laughs, rolling her eyes as she finalizes, “I gotta finish these papers—meet me at my place by the time I’m off work tomorrow?”
“Noted. One more thing?”
“Yeah?”
“If you don’t want him, can I have Ghostface? I promise imma’ answer the phone.”
“Ezra, get the fuck off my phone.”
“Muah! Bye!”
When the next day comes, Asael becomes antsy; glad for it to be Friday, but not glad that she admittedly had some apologizing to do. She hoped that she’d receive an apology in return, but she wasn’t holding her breath on that one—especially when the person who picked up Megumi was the nanny and not Toji.
“Are you almost ready? Cameron said we’re gonna be late!”
Asael stands in front of her full length mirror, still lost in thought. Her burnt orange curls cascade wildly down her back and shoulders, framing that flawless caramel face with delicate freckles dusted across it. She smooths her hands down the black baby tee that hugs her chest—the outline of her nipples visible beneath the fabric, matching mini skirt barely covering the poke of her ass, riding high on thick thighs that taper down into toned calves.
The early 2000s vixen heels add an extra three inches to her already blessed height—but not even their fluffy fur trim could distract from the way she chews at her bottom lip.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, “I’m ready.”
The Bourbon Street Car Show had the usual energy of nightlife, a melting pot of people filling up the area as they admired all the custom vehicles. The air was thick with the smell of southern food, the sound of music and chatter, and the occasional squealing of tires. It was the perfect Friday night.
But Ezra was right about one thing. This would be a good night—she’d forced to be even if it killed her.
“Daddy!”
Ezra squeals as a tall, broad figure comes up behind him, wrapping thick arms around his waist from behind. The stranger spins him playfully before setting Ezra back down with a chuckle.
Cameron was dark-skinned and devastatingly handsome, sporting deep brown waves that glisten under the neon lights—strong jawline dusted with neatly trimmed stubble, lips curled into an easy smirk as he looked down at Ezra like he hung the stars.
"Damn," Cameron rumbles, pressing a kiss to Ezra’s temple while eyeing Asael appreciatively, "’This your girl?"
"Yep!" Ezra beams proudly, “This is Asael. Asael, this is Cameron—don’t let that pretty face fool you though, this nigga built like one of them Titans underneath all this!" He tugs teasingly at Cameron’s loose brown sweatshirt, hiding his massive shoulders.
Cameron grins sheepishly as he reaches out for her hand—his grip warm and calloused, “He’s tryna’ make me blush. But it’s nice t'meet you, Asael.”
Asael takes his hand with a warm smile, “Nice to meet you too. Ezra won’t shut up about you, so I feel like I already know half your life story.”
Cameron chuckles as Ezra dramatically slaps her arm—only for Cameron to reel him back in by the waist. The little moment between them makes Asael smile, happy her best friend had found someone who adored him this much.
“I hear Ezra had to drag you here. Not a big fan of car shows, huh?”
“Correct. ‘The thought of motorbikes and extremely loud cars is annoying, but they’re cool to look at. I’m just here for the ride—No pun intended.”
Cam grins, “By all means, you can always just chill by my car. It’s the ’79 Dodge Charger.”
The vehicle sits low and menacing—jet black with red pinstriping that gleams under the streetlights. The chrome detailing makes it glint like a blade, its thick tires hugging the pavement as if built to tear through asphalt. The whole thing exudes raw power, an unspoken promise of speed lurking beneath its glossy hood.
Ezra bounces excitedly on his toes before dragging her towards it—Asael raises her brows, “This is amazing, Cam. How much did you spend on all the work?”
Cameron flashes a proud smile, running his fingers across the glossy black hood as if caressing the very heart that beats beneath.
“It was fasho’ a splurge, but worth every penny. She purrs like a kitten when she's revved up."
Ezra leans onto the vehicle, “It purrs better than me?”
His boyfriend smirks, pulling Ezra flush against him with a possessive grip on his waist—he murmurs, “Nothin’ sounds better than you.”
Asael barely catches the way Ezra mewls before Cameron’s lips are on his, swallowing whatever flustered comeback he was about to throw out.
She rolls her eyes fondly, third wheeling as if it were a profession.
“I’m gonna’ go find a drink.”
Slipping away unnoticed, she weaves through the crowd towards the nearest drink stand. The scent of fried food and spiced rum hangs heavy in the air as she orders herself something strong enough to erase the past couple of days.
Two tequila shots and a margarita later? She starts to feel alive again. Music thumps from nearby speakers, bass rattling her ribs pleasantly as people dance between parked cars glowing under neon lights.
Asael strides down the street, hips swaying with an almost feline-like grace as she struts between the rows of gleaming cars, men pausing to look her way. A few of them even try to catch her attention with low wolf-whistles, only to be met with a roll from her eyes. Women carry a mixture of envy and suspicion, pulling their partners close with each step she takes.
She slows down her stride as she saunters past a slick red Porsche with a glossy hood—a brown skinned man leans into the engine, grease staining his strong, tattooed forearms as he works.
Maybe she was feeling a little overzealous.
Asael leans against the hood of a nearby car, stirring her drink idly as she watches the stranger adjust something beneath his Porsche’s open hood. The muscles in his back ripple through his thin white tank top—the sight enough to make her sip just a bit slower.
“So,” he drawls, “You gon’ tell me why you starin’, or I gotta guess?”
She takes another sip from her straw. Her curls sway as she tilts her head, “Just admiring your car.”
“Yeah, aight.”
His lips twitch upward slightly as he reaches for an open beer beside him, taking a swiping gulp before meeting her gaze again—smirk still intact.
"’My ride’ too nice for you to look away, or you really lookin’ at me?”
"’Could be both.”
"Mmm,” He licks beer foam off his bottom lip lazily, eyeing her over once more.
“Maybe I need a lil’ passenger princess.”
“Maybe you do.”
The sound of rowdy voices and engine roars has her attention pulled briefly in a different direction of the night, where a group of people have seemed to gather around one particularly loud and obnoxious street bike.
It wasn't hard to miss—no, he wasn’t hard to miss.
Standing tall amongst his entourage of groupies and admirers alike, his skull neck tattoo gleams beneath the neon glow. It’s as if the hairs on her body stand up; Asael instantly recognizes that aura from a mile away.
It was him.
The lights reflecting off chrome and polished paint do nothing to hide that familiar stance—shoulders wide, spine straight like he was carved from stone. The flicker of his lighter catches her eye first, illuminating the sharp angle of his jaw as he brings a cigarette between those scarred lips. He takes a slow drag before exhaling smoke into the thick air—his deep-set eyes scanning lazily over the crowd like some bored king observing peasants at his feet.
Then she sees it—the quick exchange between him and another man; money slipping into pockets with practiced ease before something small gets tucked away discreetly through their clasped palms.
Asael’s stomach twists. Once again, she could’ve minded her business. Should have. But she could blame this instance on the alcohol—her heels click sharply against pavement as she marches straight in that direction without hesitation, ready to blow up this entire car meet.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
It was her.
His gaze drifts from her face to the outfit that accentuates the natural curve of her figure, a mused twitch tugging at his scarred lips. His shoulders are more relaxed, voice calm and collected to her surprise.
"Evenin’, pretty girl.”
She bristles at the pet name; dark eyes narrowing slightly, a scowl marring the features of that pretty face. He takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke away from her direction before flicking the butt to the ground.
“You look good as fuck,” he rasps, “Who you showin’ out for?”
That statement makes her mind go blank. She realizes once again that she’s outside of her job atmosphere, pulling at the mini mini skirt. The last person she expected to see was one of her students' parents, especially the one she’d just previously had beef with. To make matters worse? He was looking at her in a way she hadn’t felt before. She wanted to punch him. Or make out with him—no, she wanted to punch him.
“Are you serious, Toji?”
“Say that shit again. My name.”
Asael blinks.
“Bastard. What the hell are you doing here? What the fuck are you even doing?”
He actually does smirk—and it’s sexy—like her anger entertains him.
"Answer my shit first," Toji rumbles.
His voice drops lower, rough like gravel under tires as he murmurs, “Who got you lookin’ like that tonight?”
“Me. Wait—No, that’s not what we’re talking about! Answer my question!”
“I’m just showin’ off my bike like everybody else.”
“And the handoff I just saw? That part of the show too?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw—his casual amusement dims slightly, forcing her to crane her neck even more to hold his gaze.
That’s when the corner of his scarred mouth ticks up—Toji exhales sharply through his nose, grinning like a wolf as he tilts his head down at her.
“Donatin’ to charity.”
The irritation runs so deep, her own native language spouts—“Donating to charity. You tryna be funny, nigga? Ou soti isit la ap fè kaka estipid lè ou ta dwe enkyete sou pitit ou a—“
She halts, taking a deep breath. Another breath to calm herself, she then asks, “Where’s your child, Toji?”
Toji raises an eyebrow at her sudden change in language, seeing how riled up he could easily have her. But overhearing her question brings him a sense of reality.
“You think I’d have my son around this kinda environment? Don’t fuckin’ play with me.”
The sneer in his voice has her cross her arms, needing more information than that.
He then confirms, “I’m not a dumbass, woman. He’s with the nanny—her kid comes over durin’ the weekends to hang with Megumi. ‘Got some other shit you wanna scream ‘bout?”
“You act like I’m screaming for no reason. Actually, I can give you five more things I wanna scream about!—“
“I got your beer, Fushiguro.”
Before Asael can finish her sentence, a blonde in a crop top and ripped jeans appears—her freshly manicured fingers curl around the neck of an ice-cold beer as she hands it to Toji with an exaggerated sway of her hips.
Her eyes flick towards Asael—pale blue irises narrowing ever so slightly before she looks back at Toji, “Who’s this?”
He cracks the beer open with his teeth.
“Megumi’s teacher, Ms. Honey. ‘Ain’t nowhere near sweet, though.”
“Funny,” she sarcastically drawls, “It’s just Asael.”
The blonde giggles at Asael’s tone—high pitched and grating—before looking her up and down again.
"I wouldn't have guessed,” she leans closer to Toji's side like she's trying to stake some kind of claim, “Teachers don't usually dress like that.”
Was that shade?
Yup, had to be. Asael feels every muscle in her body tighten at once.
“Sorry I wasn’t able to please you,” she dryly counters, “Would a cardigan satisfy?”
The girl rolls her eyes, flicking a blonde curl from her face before wrapping a slender arm around Toji's bicep. He doesn't make an attempt to pull away, and she seems to take it as some sort of win—her fingers toying with the sleeve of his shirt with a smirk.
“No. But maybe a whole outfit that doesn’t beg for attention.”
The girl's insults are corny, not enough to actually entertain. Asael dismissively turns Toji—her tone a bit more serious as she exhales, “We need to talk.”
“Now?”
“Do you think I give a fuck about your play time with Barbie?” she narrows her eyes, “I don’t. Yes, now.”
The blonde snaps like a live wire, stepping forward with a scoff.
“Excuse me? Who are you calling Barbie?”
Asael blinks slowly at her—completely unfazed as she deadpans, “Would you rather play-thing?”
“I’m not a play-thing, bitch.”
Asael raises a brow, “Who are you calling a bitch, bitch?”
She steps forward, allowing the alcohol within her system to take control of her patience. She wasn’t exactly thinking, either.
The blonde scoffs, “What’s your problem?”
“Now you wanna ask what my problem is? You just called me out my name, now I’m on whatever type’ of time you on!”
Toji wasn’t the type of man to get into women's business. But this particular interaction has him irritatedly standing to prevent an escalation—his large frame steps between them in one fluid motion, a palm landing on Asael’s waist to firmly nudge her back before she could get any closer. His grip is ironclad, making sure she stays put despite the fire in her eyes.
"Chill,” he murmurs lowly.
The blonde huffs behind him, crossing her arms with a glare aimed at Asael.
“No one’s worried about her,” the girl sneers, "She's just acting like a typical New Orleans hoodrat.”
“Hoodrat?”
Asael lunges forward—she doesn’t even get a chance to swing before Toji locks an arm around her waist, hauling her back against his chest. The sudden press of his hard body against hers nearly knocks the wind out of her, but she’s too busy spitting fire to care.
"Say that shit again!" Asael snarls, “I dare you!”
The blonde actually flinches this time—taking a full step back under the weight of Asael's fury. Toji tightens his grip around her waist like steel bands—his chin brushing against the top of her head as he mutters low into her ear.
“Knock it the fuck off.”
His breath is warm on the shell of her ear; it sends an involuntary shiver down her spine despite how pissed she was—but it doesn't stop Asael from twisting in hold just enough to glare up at him.
"Let me go, Fushiguro.”
"’Can't do that."
She jerks in his hold, “You like bitches who throw slurs?! ’Fuck off me, bro. I’m not playing.”
He doesn't even blink at her struggling form, his scarred mouth twitching at that accusation.
"Calm your ass down. I’m not worried ‘bout nothin’ else but you right now.”
Asael frowns below his glare, “Don’t tell me to calm down! Tell yo’ hoes to watch they’ fuckin’ mouth! Talking ‘bout some hoodrat—you don’t even know me!”
She attempts to lunge once more, the girl flinching back again. Toji grips Asael even harder, now pissed off rather than being irritated.
"You ain’t listenin’. You're not gettin’ into a fight over this.“
He then turns towards the girl as he simply commands, “Go.”
“What?” She frowns, “Go?”
“You heard me. Fuck off.”
The girl looks dumbstruck, her pale face turning a scarlet red at his harsh tone. She looks ready to argue, but a subtle stare shuts her up. With a huff, she murmurs, “Whatever,” her blonde locks flying all over the place as she weaves through the crowd.
The moment she leaves, Asael still feels herself still shaking— she rips herself away from Toji as she sneers, “I didn’t need your goddamn help.”
He instantly tugs her back, “Yeah? Then why was your little ass about to start a fight in the damn parking lot?"
“You think I was gonna let some white girl call me a hoodrat? Have you lost your mind? Like I’m just actin’ out for no reason—“ she yanks herself back, a game of tug-o-war at this point.
Toji was now fully pissed off.
His voice was low, “Get in the car.”
She looks over to the nearest car being a Dodge Durango Hellcat—the engine hums, wrapped a shiny black with blood red headlights shining across and below the vehicle.
“What? I’m not getting in your fucking car.”
“Woman. Get in the goddamn car.”
Asael doesn’t budge an inch—she stands there, shoulders squared, chin tilted up at him in open defiance. The glow from the streetlights reflects off her burning glare, lips sneered as she holds her ground.
Toji spares her for a couple more seconds. He rolls his neck with a quiet crack, exhaling sharply through his nose. A humorless chuckle escapes him—Before Asael can react, his calloused fingers curl around the back of her neck—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to make resistance futile, yanking her towards the car in one smooth motion. She squeaks at the sheer force behind it, having no time to scramble for balance as he’s manhandling her into the passenger seat with ease.
The leather creaks beneath Asael as she straightens up sharply, “The fuck is wrong with you!—“
Toji braces one massive forearm on the roof of the car, leaning in so close his breath fans across her lips—his voice is nothing but a rough growl, dark eyes flashing with something dangerous.
"I’m seconds away from handlin’ your ass in this backseat. Put your damn legs inside.”
The command leaves no room for argument—his patience hangs by a thread as she glares up at him through thick lashes. However, another chill runs through her spine. For once, Asael actually listens, tucking her legs into the car without another word. The second they clear the doorframe, he slams it shut with enough force to make the entire frame rattle—she jolts at the vibration.
His shadow looms through tinted windows for another moment before stalking around toward the driver’s side—he falls into the seat, reclining back with a sigh—his body relaxed as he reaches into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes.
With a practiced ease, he plucks one to his lips before searching for a lighter, finding it tucked into the center console. He flicks the flame to life and brings it to the tip of the cigarette, inhaling deeply as he exhales through the window. Grey smoke curls out into the humid air, the smell of nicotine clinging to the interior.
He takes his time as he glances at Asael, dark eyes scanning over her tense form.
“You’ good now?”
“I’m fine.”
"Like hell. You nearly got into a fight over some dumbass words,” he mutters, exhaling smoke from his nostrils.
She turns her head.
“Do I need to repeat why I was initially upset? I don’t give a fuck about that hoe. I’m mad about what she said.”
He flicks ash out the window, unfazed.
“And you thought scrappin’ was gonna’ solve it? ‘Fuck you think that would’ve done?”
She bristles at that, looking away from him to stubbornly stare down at her heels—her body is still rigid as she murmurs, “It’s just the principle of it all.”
Toji lowers his brows.
He then says, “You gotta’ let stupid shit roll off the tongue, baby.”
She glares at him, but she stays quiet.
He exhales another stream of smoke, leaning back in the seat as he watches her from the corner of his eye, “Don’t give strangers the time of day. It ain’t ever that deep.”
He flicks his cig out the window as he continues, “You give them that kind of attention, shits gonna’ keep goin’. You’ll be wastin’ all your energy on people who don't matter, ‘stead of focusing on the ones who do.”
“So what— I’m just supposed to let people say whatever they want to me? Just like you don’t need my advice, I don’t need yours. Fuck off.”
“You always gettin’ this pissed off?”
“No. Probably that damn Tequila I drank. I don’t know,” she murmurs, the alcohol within her system feeling like two cups of coffee. Her knee immensely shakes as she feels more and more frustrated.
He watches her leg bounce up and down, feeling the entire seat vibrate with her. With an annoyed click of his tongue, Toji reaches out—his large hand grips the flesh of her thigh firmly, holding it still with ease.
“Quit doin’ that. You’re ‘bout to shake the goddamn car apart.”
The size difference is stark; his hand could circle her entire leg—Asael tenses at the contact, immediately stopping.
To her horror, he starts to rub his thumb over her skin. Soft circles over and over, almost comforting—almost hypnotic.
Toji glances back at the crowd outside, leaving Asael fighting off several thoughts all at once. She could blame her flushed cheeks on the alcohol, too.
God, why was this touch rushing all the way to her clit?
She gives it a couple more seconds.
Asael then mutters, “My bad.”
"That's all I get?”
“I’m not apologizing for nearly giving that bitch a hands on tonsil removal. But I didn’t mean to make a scene,” she mutters, making that her version of an apology, “But don’t sit here and act like if some dickhead came up to you talkin’ shit, you wouldn’t have had his heart placed within his prostate. Don’t even lie.”
Toji actually chuckles at that—it was deep and raspy, tightening his grip on her thigh.
“Nah. I can’t lie to you,” He admits, “Difference is, people don’t run their fuckin’ mouths ‘round me unless they’re lookin’ for a problem.”
“So people are scared of you,” she concludes, “Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical?”
His thumb stops rubbing—he exhales sharply through his nose, pinning her with a heavy look.
"Fear ain’t the same as respect. I don’t want folks shakin’ when I walk past—just means they know better than to try me,” his voice drops lower, “But you? You ain't scared of nothin’."
Oh, how wrong he was. Asael didn't know it, but her heart was beating at a thousand miles a minute—his every touch had a way of setting her nerves on fire, the rough callouses of his hands creating a delicious friction against her heated skin. His palm practically dwarfs her in size—She swallows, shifting in her seat as she murmurs, "Maybe I just don't always have a sense of self-preservation."
“Mm.”
His thumb drags down a bit, coming within her inner thigh. Asael watches. She can feel her nipples tearing through the fabric of her shirt, hornier than she’d ever been in a while. She imagines herself stroking her tongue against his, tugging his fingers further into her—
“You said you wanted to talk?”
She hears his voice, but she can’t look at him.
She tries to remember the question.
“I did,” she swallowed, “About what happened on Thursday.”
Toji hums, deep and slow—his fingers graze higher up her inner thigh, dangerously close to the damp heat of her now soaked panties.
The thought of spreading them wider torments her—begging him silently to drag those fingers across where she aches most.
"Thursday, huh?”
And then it happens—his thumb hooks under the lace now, just barely dipping beneath it to skim over the coated flesh of her folds.
Hell, maybe she was scared of something.
It’s as if that one moment sobered her up—she jumps out of the seat as she bleats, “We can talk another time!”, slamming the door as she flurries through the crowd of people to find that Dodge Charger.
When she does, she finds Ezra seated atop of Cameron’s vehicle, wrapped up under his lap as they cuddle like no one’s watching. He catches sight of a flustered Asael, eyebrow raised instantly in worry.
“What the hell happened to you?!”
“Summary—saw Toji, almost punched him in his face—almost got into a fight with some hoe callin’ me a hoodrat, almost got my coochie touched by Toji!”
Ezra stares with wide eyes, Cameron burying his face within his boyfriend's shoulder to mask his laugh.
“Oh, friend.”
She could’ve cried on the spot.
Asael was unsuccessful in all of the promises to herself—talking to Toji about Megumi, or even getting that hot guy's number. All she wanted to do was ball up in a corner and disappear at this point. But instead, she sat atop of Cameron’s car, watching as people swerved around the street with their own vehicles.
An hour had passed as it was now time for the annual motorbike show, large custom bikes revving loudly as they began flying past parked automobiles. Asael’s burnt orange curls fly back at the haste of wind—But of course, one roars louder than the others.
The thunder of an engine cuts through the cacophony—a sleek, black motorcycle rolls up with an effortless glide, its chrome accents catching the lights like a blade. The rider towers over most of the bikes around him, muscular frame encased in that tight fitting black tee that strains against his shoulders, tattoos snaking down his thick arms.
She watches as the helmet tugs to release his onyx tresses—scarred lip twitching as he grunts, “Get on.”
“I’m not getting on that.”
Ezra’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head.
“This is Toji?”
“Ezra.”
A boot sinks into the gravel of the concrete—Toji winks in Ezra’s direction, “Your friend’s been avoidin’ me.”
The wink makes Ezra’s jaw drop—he grins, “Shame on you. Asael. You’ve been holding out on me.”
"I haven't been doing anything!"
Ezra gasps dramatically, clutching invisible pearls as he turns to Toji with exaggerated sympathy in his eyes—like they were suddenly co-conspirators.
"Poor guy," he teases shamelessly, "My friend here can be such a handful."
“Really? I’m standing right here!”
Toji chuckles deeply at their antics—he brings his attention back towards her, “I ain’t askin’. Get on.”
Asael doesn’t budge—standing there with her arms crossed, her refusal couldn’t be clearer.
“You need me to come get you?”
Asael sneers, “You wouldn’t—“
He swings his leg off the bike in one fluid motion, boots hitting the pavement with a heavy thud. The second he takes another step forward—Asael squeaks, scrambling towards the motorcycle before he can reach her.
Ezra and Cam cackle in the background as she awkwardly tries to climb onto the seat, nearly flashing half of the South when her skirt rides atop of her ass, showing off the black thong she wears—Toji reaches over without hesitation, yanking the material over the tremble of her ass.
"Damn near givin’ motherfucker’s their money’s worth,” he grunts.
She shoots him an incredulous look over his shoulder—pointing at herself, “Me? What’ I do?”
When he doesn’t respond, a small pout comes to her face. Her eyes narrow as she questions, “Do I need a helmet? It’s gonna ruin my hair.”
Toji just looks at her—deadpan, expression flat as he swings a leg back over the bike, “Then pray we don’t crash and your head explodes.”
Asael’s eyes go wide, “What? Toji!”
"You gon' trust me or not?”
“You’re scaring me!” she whines, hiding her face within his back, “What am I gonna tell my students when I die?”
The way she hides into his back is sweet; he can practically feel the heat radiating off of her skin through his shirt. Her face burrows deeper in between his shoulder blades, hands gripping the front of his shirt as she clings on for dear life.
“Please don’t kill me.”
"We’d both die if you wanna be technical.”
Asael closes her eyes at the thought, whimpering into his back.
Toji feels the way she trembles against him—not the playful, flustered kind from earlier. This is real fear—her fingers digging into his shirt like she’s preparing for impact. His smirk falters, brow furrowing as he reaches down with one hand, covering both of hers where they grip him tightly.
"Hey.”
His voice drops low—gruff but unexpectedly gentle.
"Ain't nobody dyin’ tonight,” he murmurs over his shoulder, giving her hands a firm squeeze before letting go to adjust something on the handlebars, “Relax, baby. You’re good.”
“You promise?”
“Damned if I’m not.”
A voice calls, “C’mon, Fushiguro! I ain’t put five bands on this race for muhfucka’s to play around!”
Asael peeks up from his back, eyes blown wide at the line of bikes waiting for the green light. The noise is almost deafening, dozens of engines revving to life along with them—her heart hammers against her sternum.
When she loosened her death grip, that was all he needed.
With a final rev of the engine that vibrates through both of them, Toji kicks off—the bike lurches forward with enough force to make Asael screech, arms locking around his waist like steel bands as they shoot into the neon-lit night.
Toji’s voice is heard over the noise, "You good back there?”
She shakes her head. Her eyes are still tightly closed as she squeals, feeling as the bike increases in speed. It swerves through the streets, snapping past other bikes, gas within her nostrils as engines plummet and roar within her ears.
One eye cracks open—just a sliver—and the sight steals her breath all over again. Lights blur past them, the wind whipping her curls wild as they carve through traffic like a blade. Toji leans into each turn with effortless control, his body moving with the machine beneath them as other bikes struggle to keep up behind.
It’s soft, but noticeable. A giggle bubbles up in her chest when she feels that familiar lurch of weightlessness—the same feeling she’d get at the peak of a rollercoaster drop—her stomach flipping as they zip down the street. Yam by Yeat plays through the speakers, a curse yelling out from a couple bikers beside them as they flurry past like lightning.
Toji feels her arms relax slightly, her body responding to the movement of every turn. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips when he actually hears her giggles.
"You gettin’ used to it?”
She nods her head, softly replying within his ear, “I’m okay.”
Toji’s smirk turns wicked—he reaches the front of the pack as the street opens up—the moment he gives the throttle a twist, the front tire suddenly lifts off the pavement with a sharp jerk, balancing on just the back wheel as they continue speeding down the street.
Asael squeals, arms tightening around him again—but this time, there’s laughter mixed in with her panic.
Other bikers holler from beside them, their own front tires lifting into the air in response—women clinging onto their men with equal parts terror and exhilaration echoing through their voices. The entire pack of bikes becomes a moving spectacle of chrome and noise under flickering streetlights.
“Still scared?”
She doesn't give him an immediate answer, her voice swallowed by the rush of wind. When he feels her head shake against his back, Toji’s smirk spreads into a complete smile.
He can't shake the way her laughter vibrates against him—how her arms cling, the warmth of her pressed along his back, firm and soft all at once. The racing adrenaline shifts into something else entirely, something thick and heady curling low in his gut. Animalistic, almost.
The finish line is a blur of flashing lights and cheering people. Tires screech as they reach the end with a final snake, skidding around the corner before Toji hits the brakes—The moment they cross it first, he throws his head back with a deep howl, one hand letting go of the handlebars just long enough to grip Asael’s thigh possessively.
"That’s five grand on me, bitch!”
Cheers erupt around them as bikes screech to a stop behind them in varying placements—riders cursing or laughing while their passengers catch their breath.
Asael peeks up from where she was plastered against him earlier, cheeks flushed pink from windburn and exhilaration alike. Her ginger curls messily fly around her caramel skin, freckles bright under the moonlight.
She pants, “I look okay?”
She looked more than okay. Toji can't help the way his gaze lingers over her flushed skin, her lips, the freckles across her nose, the messy curls sticking to her neck. Her face is glowing—she looked good all dolled up, but she looked just as good like this, too.
He takes in a slow, measured breath—then grins, flashing his signature set of straight teeth, “Never better, baby. Damn good, actually.”
Her body still shakes, an excited jitter as her round eyes return to a slender—they graze his entire body as she lifts her arms, “You gonna’ help me off?”
"Nah—”
Toji’s palms grip under the backs of her still-shaking thighs, hauling her off the bike in one effortless motion—One arm hooks under her ass, hoisting her up higher—a squeak of surprise leaving her as she grabs onto his shoulders on instinct. Asael giggles, wrapping both legs around his hips instinctively, arms looping over his broad shoulders as they nearly collide face-to-face.
Their eyes lock—something hungry flashes in Toji’s arrogant grin, lingering on the plush curve of her mouth before dragging back up.
"Still shakin’, huh?”
Asael barely has time to respond—Ezra bounds over—slapping a hand on Toji’s shoulder with an exaggerated gasp.
“Damn. You really know how to show a girl a good time,” he teases, eyeing their position with raised brows before turning to Asael excitedly, “Bitch! I had no idea you were into freaky shit like this. Did you have fun?”
Asael giggles again—the sound coming out more breathless, shaky and awkward. Not to mention, Toji’s dark eyes hold something feral, something that makes her stomach swoop.
She squirms until he reluctantly lets go—her feet hit the pavement with a soft scuff, his fingers trailing down the back of her legs just a little too slowly before he finally pulls away.
"I had fun," she admits, “It was cool, ‘can’t even lie.”
Ezra waggles his eyebrows suggestively—but thankfully doesn’t press further, Cam coming up behind him with car keys jingling in hand.
“Babe—we gotta roll,” Cam murmurs lazily, “‘A nigga ready to hit the bed.”
Ezra pouts but relents, “You ready to go?”
Asael exhales, smoothing her wrinkled skirt—she smiles up at Ezra before shaking her head, “I still gotta talk to him about something. You go ahead.”
“Oh? Talk about what?”
“Ez,” Cam deadpans, wrapping a heavy arm around Ezra’s waist from behind—he gives a respectful nod at Toji, "Let them be.”
Ezra huffs, dramatically draping himself over Cam as he glares, “Fine. But I better get a text when you get home,” he says pointedly at Asael, shifting that same look onto Toji—his tone drops into actual seriousness for once, “And you? Keep her safe or I'll hunt your ass down myself.”
Toji doesn't even flinch—just gives him a lazy smirk in response as he pulls another cigarette out from seemingly nowhere, “Ain't nowhere safer than when she's with me.”
“Go be with your pretty little boyfriend, hm?” Asael pinches Ezra’s cheeks, “You love me?”
“Of course I do! And he ain't little.”
"C’mon. You can show me off another night—let the adults talk,” Cam chuckles, “Be safe, aight?”
"I hate you," Ezra whines, sticking his tongue out before letting Cam tug on his arm towards the car, "Bye, babe. Stay safe, please."
"Love you too, drama queen."
She watches as they disappear into the crowd—only then does she turn back to Toji, suddenly hyper aware of how alone they are now in the midst of all this chaos.
“We really need to talk about Megumi.”
Toji exhales smoke through his nose—considering her for a long moment before stubbing the cigarette out under his boot. He nods towards the bike without another word, holding a hand out for her.
“I know. C’mon, I wanna show you somethin’ anyway.”
She raises a brow, “I have pepper spray, gorilla.”
That earns her a raspy chuckle—his calloused fingers twitch in silent demand until she finally takes it, “Wouldn’t expect nothin’ less from you."
This ride on his bike was particularly more calm—the engine growls beneath them as they weave back through crowded streets—this time slower, steadier with no races to win. Soon enough, Toji pulls up to what looks like an old mechanic's garage—a rusty sign barely hanging on by its hinges above a chipped red door.
Asael frowned.
“I’m serious, Fushiguro. I do have pepper spray—where are you taking me?”
He chuckles, tossing one long leg over the side and grabbing her waist—effortlessly lifting her off the bike once more, “Keep tellin’ you to trust me, woman.”
Toji punches in a code—the garage door rattles as it lifts, revealing what definitely isn’t a mechanic’s shop.
Inside is more like an artist's loft. One half of the space is a sprawling studio with canvases stacked against walls, jars of brushes on tables, sketches pinned haphazardly over every available surface.
The other side? A lived-in bedroom—low-lit with a projector casting black-and-white movie scenes against the far wall.
But nothing made Asael go more stiff when she continued walking forward—a wall, every single drawing Megumi had ever brought home from her class. Even Thursday's artwork is there—carefully preserved among all the others.
She takes one trembling step forward, fingertips ghosting over them. Drawings of Megumi and his father, drawings of his Ms. Honey.
Toji leans along the wall beneath the vent to smoke the rest of his cigarette, his expression unreadable under dim lighting—yet, his shoulders are tense.
"Kid talks 'bout you nonstop.”
Asael swallows hard—suddenly feeling ten times worse for jumping to conclusions; Megumi hadn't been neglected at all.
“You weren't supposed to make me feel bad about this."
"Wasn't tryin' to. Just wanted you to see.”
He pushes off the wall, taking slow steps toward her—each one deliberate and measured—until he’s close enough for her to catch that familiar scent of smoke and leather mingling with something distinctly him. The calloused pad of his thumb brushes nearly against the side of her neck—right where Megumi’s latest drawing hangs— a family with crayon-scrawled letters at the bottom: MS. HONEY AND ME.
“‘Kid don’t draw me shit unless it matters,” he murmurs, “You matter to him.”
Her heart aches.
“I feel really bad about the first conversation we had,” she admits.
"You mean the one where you called me a bad father?”
Asael’s arms drop, eyes narrowing as she says, “You know that’s not what I said, Fushiguro.”
Toji's expression remains stoic, his eyes fixed on hers. He leans onto the wall nearest of him, “Potentially bad father," he corrects, his voice heavy with derision.
She blows out a breath—her arms throw themselves up as she huffs a seat onto the edge of the bed, “What was I supposed to think, Toji? I mean—I’d never met you. You ignored my emails, my phone calls, my
notes home? What was I supposed to think?”
“So the first thing to assume is that he’s neglected? That I don’t want to spend time with my own damn kid?”
He sees the guilt on her face. Toji exhales sharply through his nose—his jaw clenches visibly, eyes narrowing as he also considers her words.
“You think I want to miss shit?” His voice is low, rough—like gravel dragged over pavement, “Every time you sent something home, every fuckin’ note—”
For a man who looks so unbreakable standing there like this—muscles taut under ink and scars—there’s something unexpectedly raw in his gaze when it meets hers again.
“I ain’t built like other people,” he admits, “My shit has always been on survival mode.”
His throat works—his voice drops to almost nothing, rough and hollow.
"I grew up in Tokyo before I came down here," he explains, fingers flexing around nothing at his side—like they're still fighting ghosts from years ago, “Ain't exactly had my folks holdin' my hand through life. Megumi’s mom? She's gone. And the shit I do for work—the way I gotta move?" His dark eyes lock onto Asael's with brutal honesty, "’Ain't safe. My kid can’t be anywhere near that."
That’s all he offers—but it’s enough to paint a picture—A man raised by wolves, who learned too young that love was conditional if it existed at all. A father trying like hell not to repeat cycles he barely escaped from himself.
Asael winces, looking away—she feels the weight of his stare bearing into her when she admits,“I get it. I do, okay? I understand how badly I messed up. And I'm sorry, Toji. I just—“
She pauses, swallowing around a lump in her throat. She wasn’t trying to be vulnerable, she just didn’t know how else to express why she made the choices she did. Her fingers twist into the hem of her skirt—knuckles white with tension. The words come out in a whisper, like ripping off a bandage she’d kept pressed over an old wound.
“I can’t have kids of my own.”
The confession hangs between them—raw and aching. She forces herself to meet his gaze, her brown eyes glistening with something fragile.
“So when I see those babies every day? It’s not just teaching for me,” she continues hoarsely, “They’re all I get.”
Toji doesn’t react at first. His face stays unreadable, but something flickers in his dark eyes. He takes a step closer—then another—until he's standing over her where she sits on the edge of the bed.
"Then stop feelin' guilty for givin' a fuck."
The words are gruff, but not unkind.
"You did what you thought was right," he murmurs lowly, "Ain't no shame in that."
His words hit her more than she expected them to. She can feel her eyes desperately wanting to water, but she refuses to cry. She exhales heavily as she gives a soft smile, “Say something that doesn’t make me wanna cry, please.”
“Shit, uh—“
Toji grunts—dragging a calloused palm down his face before scratching at the back of his neck.
"’Kid's got way too many socks," he mutters, “They’re all ugly as hell, too.”
It works—a surprised laugh bubbles out of her immediately, shoulders shaking as she wipes hastily at her eyes.
"I knew he was the one picking them out,” She giggles, "The dinosaur ones with the googly eyes he always comes to class with? Terrify me.”
He smirks, “‘Said they're good luck. I ain't got the heart to tell him they’re a fashion crime.”
Asael smiles, rubbing her palms across her face to brush the last of her developing tears away.
Her heart is thudding again, but from something else this time. Toji stands so close to her now—still and imposing like a pillar of muscle and scars—close enough she can smell him.
“You know, I’m still waiting for my apology.”
"For?”
"Um? The way you spoke to me at the school," she says simply, "You were an asshole."
Toji huffs—the closest thing to laughter he seems capable of. He then admits, “Heard that too many times.”
She rolls her eyes, “Can’t even kiss my feet, act like you’re sorry?”
Toji’s expression darkens.
“A kiss, huh?”
His eyes graze over the flushed skin of her face and down her throat, the curve of her shoulders, even to her legs. Her miniskirt rides up as she sits, revealing the silk of her thong, just barely covering the puffy pink of her folds. Taking another step forward, his hands come up to slide between her knees, fingers gripping the underside of her thighs as he forces them apart—her back hits the mattress with a soft gasp—he begins to unlace her heels, sucking his lips against the arch of her foot when they find contact with his mouth.
“Like that, huh?”
She giggles breathlessly, “Mhm.”
He raises an eyebrow.
His gruff voice calls, “Yeah?”
The giggling she does comes from still being slightly tipsy, nodding her head as she musingly stutters, “T—that’s a start.”
“Now I got you’ stutterin’.”
Toji removes the other heel, connecting his mouth back to her flesh—He sucks at the skin of her ankles, now giving both legs attention—from gentle pecks to harsher kisses, he latches the skin into his mouth with a popping sound. Her giggling subsides with each release of his full lips, as this causes her hips to raise a bit.
Within all this, she’s even more nervous. She clears her throat as she dumbly asks, “Um—did that hurt?”
She refers to the tattoo along his neck.
She feels him grin against her ankle—his tongue swipes lazily over his bottom lip before he answers, voice thick and rough.
“Nah. ‘Ain’t hurt too bad.”
“Mine’s hurt.”
She distractedly refers to her own, pointing at the rose as if he couldn’t see it. But to be truthful, she was really trying to keep up the conversation as she felt herself trembling—why was she trembling? Has it really been this long?
"’Tell me where else you got’ ink.”
He keeps her talking to hear the shake in her voice, looming his muscular frame above hers, slowly placing both ankles upon each of his shoulders.
“S—Something on my hip…little drunk ideas at the time,” she slurs, her mouth barely able to find the words.
Yup, he definitely was a bastard. The moment her eyes lock within his, the tips of his fingers gently graze upon her inner thigh— it halts right over the thin material of her panties, Asael’s mouth slightly parting as he places his forehead along hers.
In an instant, she rests her hands along his shoulders—Asael grips his shirt to stop her hands from shaking. He leans forward more, allowing their lips to just barely touch.
His index and middle finger press at the cloth, dragging against the fabric down to her opening—he hears just how wet she is, dropping his eyes down as he grunts, “Ooh, fuck.”
Toji's low, raspy growl vibrates against her mouth—the sound sends another electric pulse straight between her legs. He doesn't hesitate—his fingers hook into the silk, peeling it aside to expose her glistening heat. The sight of her was ethereal—already wet, gummy and pink.
"Fuckin' pretty.”
She frowns along his mouth, spreading her thighs in the way she wanted to hours before—her voice is low as she begs, “Want em’ in me.”
He grunts, “Slow?”
“Slow, please.”
He can hear the wreckage in her voice. He sinks them in slowly, sucking her mouth within a kiss to swallow her whimper—her thighs tremble with every knuckle that buries into her, pumping out with a squelch of her pussy.
“Fuccck, baby.”
Her moan drags the words, “That felt so good.”
“You’re so wet,” he groans in return, stroking his tongue against her own, swirling her mouth into a filthy kiss.
He spreads his fingers wider—filling her up with every push of his hand. She gasps, chest rising and falling against him at the overwhelming stretch. She moans helplessly into a kiss, pulling him lower to drag her tongue against his own. Toji sucks her bottom lip between his teeth, growling through their make out.
Her voice is broken, pouty on his lips, “I’m gonna cum already. S—Stop, Fushiguro.”
“Pussy keep pullin’ my fingers in, baby—‘Tight as hell, ‘how long since you been fucked?”
“Don’t ask that,” she whimpers, pressing her forehead against his, “Please.”
“‘M sorry,” he rumbles, “S’all you, baby,” he groans in her ear, sucking that soft lobe in between rough, hot kisses, “You need this shit. Open up f’me.”
Her body hadn’t felt this much pleasure in so long, it nearly aches. As his fingers pound into her, a gasp tugs from her mouth once more—she drenches his palm, Asael's body shuddering and shaking, releasing all her pent up frustration in hot, messy streams.
“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl.”
His voice is low, gruff against her ear, deep breaths against her neck, “Drenchin’ all over my fingers, baby’s got so much built up.”
Her chest rises and falls, whimpering as she kisses him again. She’s tugging her hands on his shirt, “I want you so bad.”
“I’m right here.”
He drags her to the end of the bed, tongue already dropping on her clit—he’s widening her legs, shaking his head side to side as he spreads her opening with his jaw. His tongue laps at her wet folds hungrily, teasing her clit with strokes of his tongue—her thighs quiver, raking her fingers through his hair, already too sensitive at this point.
“You taste good as fuck,” he moans against her—she squirms again, whining—the grip in his hair tightens more as he sucks her clit between his lips in return.
Asael’s panting, whimpering. Every single sound is just adding fuel to the fire, pulling her tighter against his tongue as he begins to lick up and down her folds like a meal.
“‘Need you to make a mess like this on my dick.”
She nods her head, begging with her eyes nonetheless, but unsure if she even trusted her own body to hold out.
“‘Know you will,” he grunts, “‘Shit’s gonna’ look so fuckin’ good.”
His palm slides down to clutch a hold of her hip, using it for leverage as he starts to rock her hips forward—he’s driving his tongue in and out with relentless drag, face and nose drenched within her.
She’s just moaning, and it’s like music to his ears.
“‘Gonna cum, baby.”
“Nah’, next time you cum it’ll be cause’ I’m fuckin’ you stupid,” he corrects her, “Better wait for me.”
He’s lifting her within the air as if she weighs nothing—her legs are thrown over his shoulders, her arms locking around his neck—she exhales, trying to catch her breath as she locks their lips together with another moan.
It’s all chaotic, but in the best way. His large palms hold the skin of her ass with long fingers, spanking the flesh as it’s hot under his skin—His tip is full, fat—it smushes along her folds as if to tease her body more.
“C’mon, Toji.”
“I’m comin’.”
But maybe she wasn’t as ready as she thought. Her mouth goes from parting lightly to dropping open, feeling as he slowly sinks her onto the heaviness of his dick—a sense of discomfort ruptures through her spine as it’d been so long—but it overrides by a pleasure that nearly causes her to black out.
Toji’s silent, except for the low groan against her mouth. He just wants to hear her reaction, wants to listen.
Asael’s eyes roll back—and then, her thighs tremble as she shockingly squirts along his abdomen, body shuddering as she groans from the unexpected orgasm.
He’s relentless, his palm connecting with her cheek, “Look at you—cummin’ from me just putting my shit in.”
His hands squeeze at the back of her legs, spreading her open even wider. There was no warning as he began tugging her onto his dick, sliding in and out of her at a pace that was slow, but harsh.
Tears begin to fill her vision, gasping mercilessly against him. Her body hasn’t subsided from her orgasm as he bounces her down, skin clapping together—Asael can only sob, “Oh my god, fuck.”
"Tearin’ your shit up so good, baby. You feel that?”
He’s as sinister as he looks, continuously dropping her up and down on his length, gradually increasing the intensity of their movements, battering her walls while maintaining eye contact with her tear-streaked face.
Asael’s nails scratch his back, leaving half-moon indents on her track upward as they reach his shoulders— he grabs her by the roots of her curls, forcing her to look him in the eye again.
“You hearin’ me?” This is what you wanted, huh?”
His tongue trails against her earlobe, sucking along the reddened flesh.
“All you’ been thinkin’ about.”
Asael just nods her head, her eyes falling down to watch the way his dick nearly splits her in half.
She nods, “Uh huh.”
The way he moves her body was almost effortless—the spank he gives her ass makes her mewl softly, an almost irritation along her face from how good it all felt.
“Fuck, baby. Fuck.”
“That’s all you got now?”
She drags her palm against her lips to cover her mouth, unable to stop herself from the broken moan she releases—she shudders, “Fuckkk, my god. Stop it.”
He’s snapping his hip up to meet hers, taking her mouth all in one rough, deep motion. She’s so small in his hands, practically a toy almost. He continues to slam her down, over and over.
“You takin’ it so good.”
She can’t control the way her legs tighten around him—her hands clenching onto his shoulders for dear life, nails dragging along his skin again.
“I’m gonna’ cum again.”
“Thought you wanted me to stop, huh?”
His mouth sucks against hers—she whimpers as he starts to bounce her up and down even harsher on his tip, “You lyin’ now?”
Her eyes roll as she moans against his mouth, clutching her fingers within the nape of his hair once more—she mewls, “‘Didn’t mean it.”
He grunts in return, “’Know you didn’t.”
Each time he slams her down onto his dick, her pussy grips tightly around him, releasing harsh waves of pleasure that seem to radiate throughout both their bodies. It’s like an unrelenting ocean.
“Pussy’s talkin’ to me baby.”
“Ugh—mhmmmm.”
She holds the side of his face, giving another nod of her head—she begs, “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t stop?”
His fingers sink into the flesh of her ass, grinding her onto his abdomen, arousal dripping down his pelvis each time their bodies connect.
“Don’t, Toji.”
She’s starting to feel like he’s punishing her for the mouth she had before they ended up here. Now here she was—broken and needing him, attitude nowhere in sight.
“Reckless ass fuckin’ mouth. Now look at you.”
“Ughn, baby. Please.”
“‘Keep callin’ me,” he growls, “Don’t even know what for.”
The back of her thighs clap against his hips, coating her arousal along his length in white cream. It has her breathlessly whimpering, “Sorry.”
“I’m knowin’.”
A peevish whine leaves her lips, dragging her tongue along his jaw until it reaches his lips as she weakly repeats, “Need you so bad.”
A gruff chuckle vibrates against her forehead, Toji’s hands slide down to cup her ass, spanking her cheek again and again—his tongue licks along her neck again, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path as he repeats, “I know.”
The room is lewd, filled with the sounds of their bodies connecting, the sounds of pleasure they’re both making.
"’Never heard pussy talk the way yours talkin’ to me. You want this shit bad.”
She nearly whines like a brat when he pulls out of her, carrying her over to the bed as he lays himself against the sheets. He’s tugging Asael by her fiery curls, gripping his tip within his other hand, slapping it along her tongue.
And Asael just moans, opening her mouth wider, sticking out her tongue in return.
His free palm rakes into her curls, bobbing her mouth up and down that it creates a schluck, schluck, sound— her eyes roll back, clit throbbing at the sound of his low voice echoing within her ears. She’d never expect herself to be this indulged or submissive in a man’s words—but it made her even hornier.
“I’m so wet.”
She admits this as she draws her mouth away from his tip, rotating her palm against the base of his dick, coating it with her saliva.
“Yeah?”
He’s growling, “Show me that shit.”
Asael crawls up his body, straddling his waist—her hands grab palms, guiding his fingers to the damp heat between her legs. A feral groan echoes in her ear as his hands grab both cheeks of her ass, spreading the messy folds as his thumb rolls against her clit, “So fuckin’ nasty.”
She leans her head against his shoulder, mewling, "See.”
He’s guiding her over the fat of his tip once more—she’s sinking down onto it, her walls hugging his length as Toji growls against her mouth, “Keep goin’. Take my shit all the way.”
It’s slow, inch after inch—filling every empty space she trembles, “Ooh,” all while he grumbles in return, “‘She missed me.”
He’s propping her up to have her feet along the bed, placing her in an almost squatting position— his muscular arms go beneath her thighs, tugging her by the thick flesh of her ass to slam her down. Cream coats through the separation of their skin, Asael gasping deeply at the sound it makes, painting his dick like her own canvas.
“Spread your pussy. Gonna’ go deeper.”
He guides her hands, pulling her folds apart from one another even more. Asael mewls defeatedly, feeling her eyes brimming with tears once more—pleasure is all she feels.
“Nuh-Uh. Don’t be cryin’ now.”
"Fuuuuuck, baby.”
“Keep goin’ with all that whinin’ shit you were doin’ earlier,” he grunts to her, a shockwave being sent along her body as he’s back to spanking her with both palms.
Asael spreads herself even more from behind—she whines lowly against his lips, “You’re so fucking deep, baby.”
“In your stomach?”
She just nods.
"Pussy tuggin’ my dick,” he groans breathlessly, “Like you were made for me," he prods, his voice rough with each word, “Just needed to be fucked.”
“Toji.”
“Just needed to cum, huh?”
“Yeahhh.”
“Yeah?” He arrogantly grunts, thrusting his hips up into her.
“Uhhhh—ugh, fuck. Yeah.”
The sounds are wet again, Toji’s balls slapping against her clit.
“That’s it—you whinin’ for me?”
She just nods once more, desperate and exhausted—she can hardly moan anymore, whining each time his tip disappears.
“I’m gonna’ cu—uhhhh.”
His voice lowered, deeper, darker, “You got it, baby. Need you to make a fuckin’ mess.”
Maybe this was all to break her. Asael’s mind flickers with that thought as he swiftly throws her within another position, her stomach pressed against the sheets, hips arched up within the air.
She hopes—prays he tires himself out. One palm wraps around her throat from behind, the other holding the flesh of her hip as he grinds down, tip sliding across her folds eagerly.
His lips began sucking at her throat, “Pretty ass tattoo, looks like the shit hurt.”
Her eyes clasp shut as he’s making out with her flesh, squirming beneath him as he grunts into her skin, “Lemme’ kiss that shit.”
He’s sopping it down with a growl, dragging his tongue along the flushed ink. His mouth is like molten lava, a slow burn spreading up her body to warm every pore with anticipation.
“Didn’t hurt as bad as you’d think,” she whispers; her voice is soft and shaky, feeling him tease her entrance from behind, “But—fuck.”
Then—he’s dipping his tip at her opening, quickly tugging it back out. He doesn’t stop. He just keeps doing that. It has her hips trying to catch him, whimpering softly as she can’t.
“Gonna cum. S—so close, put it back in.”
“You’ need it?”
“Need it.”
Her body trembles and shakes, only receiving the drag of his hips in return.
“Please.”
“Pussy tryna’ have me fall in love,” he grunts, spreading her apart with his own hand, seeing her opening throbbing, gummy pink walls pulling themselves inward as they need his connection.
“You wanna cum?”
“Mhmm.”
“Say that shit, then. Mean it.”
“Wanna cum all over your dick, baby. Can’t wait.”
Toji rumbles a deep chuckle against her body, pulling her hair into his fist as he twists the tresses into a ponytail, other hand spreading her opening farther as he shoves his dick back inside—he’s yanking her hips back, an angle to hit directly to her g-spot.
Asael feels elated, a high-pitched giggle leaving her lips as she whines, eyes rolled to the back of her head—she’s squirting again, nearly pushing his tip out by the strength of pleasure, face shoved into the pillow as she releases wildly, moaning in chaotic shouts.
He jerks her head up as he grunts, still keeping his hips plummeting into her, “Nah. Fuck all that. Cum. Shit feels good, doesn’t it?”
She can’t even speak in words anymore, crying out, “Uhhhh—oh my god, Toji. I’m cumming. I’m cumming,” she whimpers in high pitched repetitions, turning her face towards him as she begs, “Kiss me.”
He’s releasing his grip over her hair, leaning down to kiss her messily, more teeth than anything. Her body was shaking almost as if in a fever, feeling him begin to pound her again, squeezing his mouth roughly against hers. He’s growling like an animal, the pleasure now consuming his body too.
She pulls her mouth back from his just centimeters apart—her voice is wrecked as she softly begs, “Cum, baby. ‘Want you to cum with me.”
That voice of hers is all he needs. His face is buried alongside her neck, groaning as his hands grip her hips rougher, a fire building within the pit of his stomach, spreading throughout his core as he buries his tip in her deep.
The chaos of the moment drives him to a brink of insanity. To hear the suction of air spouting from her opening, Asael defeatedly gasping, head turning as her mascara ridden face tiredly moans, its euphoria.
His hips tremble as he pulls out with a moan—Asael turns her body, lowering herself to allow the warmth of his cum to spread across her face. Her hands wrapped around the base of his length as she sticks her tongue out, catching the rest within her mouth.
Toji glares.
“Shit,” he grunts, “‘Must’ve been wrong as hell. You are sweet.”
She giggles.
Asael runs her tongue along her lips, “‘Could just be one of my better moods.”
“Better? You’re not in the fuckin’ heavens after I just tore your ass up?”
She shrugs, “Maybe. Maybe not.”
As she continues to giggle, Toji locks in on her. She must’ve forgotten who he was just that quickly.
But she’s about to be reminded, a gasp falling from her lips as he twists her hair into his fingers, tugging her eyes up to meet him so she can hear every word.
October 31st, known around the globe as Halloween…a night of thrills, spookiness, excitement and a lot of surprises. Most people spent their evenings walking the sidewalks and scouring the neighborhood for generous homes that were passing out handfuls of delicious candies. Some were on a bender with their friends at a party, dressed in scantily clad costumes as they downed their weight in Casamigos and Cutwater…and then there was (y/n) (l/n)….
“Girl, I’m so ready for tonight. You know all the rich dudes in the city finna’ be out spending money.”
“On God, my rent due tomorrow. I’m tryna’ make that shit for this month and the next.”
“Okay? Cause I ain’t tryna see this place for at least a week..”
“Girl please. Y’all know these niggas don’t be on shit ‘round here. Ain’t got no type of motion…if you want ‘em to spend some real coin, Dollhouse is the place to be at.”
whilst everyone else was indulging in their treats, you were preparing to get tricked on by a bunch of men with expendable income to burn. The Palace was a place known by many for housing some of the most talented, beautiful and finest dancers in [location name]. It had been home to several infamous music videos and helped launch the careers of several girls who were now killing it on social media as influencers or dancing professionally in other forms. You’d begin working here just a little over a year and a half ago. What started as a quick way to get you out of a financial bind, quickly turned into your full time job to help fund a business and put yourself through school and it’s been one hell of an experience to say the least. In that time, you’d touch a lot of money, made some new friends, some enemies and even had suitors try and get to know you outside of the neon lights and cash covered floors. However, something told you that tonight was going to be one like you’d never experienced. See, the club decided it would be a great idea to go with a theme for the evening, sparing no expense for decorations and guest appearances to ensure they attracted nothing but the finest crowd. The theme in question? Alice in Wonderland. The classic film that was stacked with mystical and equally creepy elements. Most of the girls had opted for an adultified, scantily clad, Fashion Nova version of the main character’s costume.
you, on the other hand, decided to do a far sexier version of the Cheshire Cat. Body painting yourself pink and darkish magenta stripes and glitter to accent it with a color matched bikini and hot pink Pleasers strapped around your legs. You’d even acquired an attachable tail and ears to really sell it.
“What about you, (Y/N)? ‘You excited for tonight?” One of your dear colleagues would ask as you sat opposite of the group, nursing a glass of alcohol and finishing up your hair…taking the rollers from the reddish pink bussdown attached to your head.
“Girl yes. Excited for it to be over…you know people like to come in here act the ass on holidays. I just hope nobody starts anything.”
truth be told, you loved this day. The dressing up, the spooky stuff, candy, the endless amount of movies you can binge and especially the parties. But it wasn’t lost on you how ignorant people could get when they populated in large crowds and consumed substances. And don’t let a weapon be involved, that was an entirely different beast in and of itself….your nervous system couldn’t take it. But alas, you hoped that this evening wouldn’t leave you an utter wreck.
“I hear you, boo. But let’s not focus on that dumb shit…let’s just go out there and get this money, okay?”
“Yeah, you right..”
nonetheless, you couldn’t dwell on what could possibly happen. Instead, you just need to put all of your energy into performing right now and making anyone who watched spend as much as their hard earned dollars as possible. Little did you know, for one patron tonight…..that would be of no consequence and you were going to be the lucky winner.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*
page break
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*
“Welcome to the Palace’s 2025 HallowBash…tonight, we got some real talented ladies taking the stage, ready to put on a show. Thank y’all for popping out and showing love. We gon’ be keep the ball rolling and the ass shaking..”
Some time had passed since the club opened its doors for the night and it was by far the busiest anyone had ever seen this place. People were lined up outside, piled into every section with bottle girls stepping all over people to get to where they needed to be. Everyone was dressed up in some form or fashion…..sporting creepy costumes, obscure characters to sexy variants of pop culture icons. Drinks were pouring, hookah smoke clouding the atmosphere and bright lights beamed off of every wall.
“Told you this place was great. Look at all these hotties, man…I’m telling you, I’m gonna blow my entire month’s salary in here. Not like we won’t make it back in a day or two.”
“Tch’…you’re so easily impressed, it’s actually cute. Although I do have to agree…there’s some beautiful ladies. But no one’s who caught my eye just yet…I hope that’ll change.”
“My bad, ‘almost forgot who I was talking to…it takes a lot to please your ‘refined palette’..”
“What can I say? I have expensive taste…surely someone here is worth the price.”
it was (Y/N)’s turn to hit the stage next and unbeknownst to you, as you lurked behind the curtain…awaiting your announcement, there was someone else who shared that desire to be swept from their feet, per say. Taken off guard and surprised by what they saw on the stage. Meanwhile, you were hoping that the new skills, dances and this insane getup would catch the eye of some wealthy financier who was willing to not only throw out some serious coin but meet you in a back room and spend more. You didn’t have time to entertain small fish tonight! Alas, both of your subconscious anxieties would be quelled as the DJ took the mic again after a brief intermission..
“Alright, next up to the stage is a lady who hardly needs an intro….her moves, her beauty and that booty speaks all for itself. One of the best to ever do it here at Palace with only a year in the game….a crowd and personal favorite. Put y’all fucking hands together for (dancer name)!”
with that, the crowd…filled to the brim with both newcomers and regulars began to erupt in cheer as the lights dimmed a shade of hot pink and (insert song) began to play. Most girls rushed towards the pole, heels blazing; eager to get the dance done and over with. But you liked the lead up to the routine…the hungry, desperate glare in their eyes as you twirled around, making your ass clap and jump, feeling and touching up on yourself….truly mastering the art of seduction. See, you never performed your most powerful tricks too early. Nine times out of ten, they were only here to see you flash your tits anyways. But for those who truly appreciated it, you’d put on a display like none other. You’d continue your routine, doing splits on the elongated metal, earning loud pops from those observing. Climbing up a short distance, only to come back down and continue dancing. A deviant smile on your face as you teased the onlookers with a potential flashing of those big, perky tits. Although it took less than five minutes for the stage to become flooded with dollar bills, you let them know it wasn’t nearly enough and they wanted to see more, they better have made it worth your while. As the track began to pick up and some provocative lyric was uttered, you’d bend over…mimicking the imagery of spreading yourself open with a hand between those thighs and that ass on full display. The illusion of the painted stripes mesmerizing them. Who knew a cat could look this damn good?!
“Shit…she’s sexy, isn’t she?”
“Let’s see what else she can do..”
Now that everyone was engaged, ready to really see you perform….you'd head back to the pole. “Oh shit! Here she go…get ready!”
you’d take a hard spin around, transitioning into a tornado twirl that eventually ended with your legs butterflying open. You’d flay them around, almost fluid like as your core strength controlled that upper half. That’s when it would happen…
The peering eyes that you’d felt glaring at you throughout the duration of this routine finally met your own gaze. Even though they were concealed behind a mask, it didn’t take long for you to recognize who they belonged to. After all, you couldn’t forget them even if you tried!
The mysterious patron kept a close watch as you began to close out your show..lowering their head with a slight smirk, picking up the chilled glass of liquor to nurse it yet again. It was as if they were waiting for a final piece…a grand ending that would shock everyone, including yourself. And once you had the confirmation you needed, you’d give them exactly that. Going up to the highest point, twisting yourself to an almost inverted position, keeping a firm grasp, (Y/N) awaited the beat drop as the audience sang along, and when it happened:
“Holy shit! Did she just—“
“Did you see that?!”
“She’s insane, what the fuck?!”
a soft chuckle left the lips of the mystery person, seeming to be more than pleased with your maneuvers.
“That’s my girl….you always did know how to get my attention.”
you’d come down dangling head first. Only to flip yourself upwards halfway and fall into a hard split….causing the whole place to erupt and money to fall from the ceiling. Fifties, tens and even a few hundreds littered your view. But perhaps the largest payout would come when finally, your secret admirer stood their feet, heels clicking as they strutted towards the stage with almost three bands in a stack. You’d crawl towards the edge on all fours, emulating the creature you were dressed up as. That long tail and your thick backside poking out as they neared you. The mystery person, whose identity you were certain of at this point, would tug you close and shove their tongue into your mouth, leaning over to stuff loose bills on the sides of your thong. Claiming dominion over you and that pretty little body right there in front of the entire club! All of the men began to cheer when they realized they were witnessing two girls making out and their horny little brains couldn’t take it.
“I knew you’d come back for me.”
“And let someone else take what’s mine? Not a chance..”
“…let’s go to the back.”
Finally, the song would conclude and everyone would be left in awe. Not only of your skills but those but that little showcase as well. She’d help you readjust until you were sitting upright and on your feet. With that, the two of you would traipse hand in hand through the crowd…hers clutching a bit tighter as to make sure you didn’t leave her sight.
“Enjin, tell Boss I won’t be coming back tonight. I have something I need to take care of.”
you’d peer over to your right to see a tall blonde man, littered with tattoos you could see courtesy of his tattered shirt, as he was dressed as Freddy Kruger. He’d smirk at his companion and your company for the rest of the evening, who wore an all white two piece; cropped and revealing her toned midriff with a pair of loose fitting pants that dangled on her waist to reveal a butterfly tattoo on her right hip. A long fur lined trenchcoat flung across her shoulders, covering her body and that gold trimmed mask was positioned around her curly blonde pixie cut. She was stunning…was and always would be in your eyes. As the two of you navigated the crowd, neither of you uttered a single word. Nothing needed to be explained or even said….and you couldn’t wait until she got you alone.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*
page break
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*
“..S-sem!..Fuck, wait—“
“Unt uh..I’m not waiting on shit. Keep those legs open and quit squirming..”
it took absolutely no time at all for old habits to transpire as you guys finally made it behind private, closed doors. The backrooms, surrounded by plus couches, deep red wallpaper and a constant gaze of smoke that lingered from previous visitors. Another pole dangled from the ceiling to the base of the floor and a table sat in the corner, decorated with a chilled bottle of Brandy with shot glasses to accompany it. In here, nothing was off limits. Although it wasn’t directly advertised as a place where sexual favors could be exchanged, it was sort of an unspoken rule among the dancers to always try and keep the ‘extra curriculars’ within the club if they chose to partake, at least for safety purposes. Ironically, it was always the shy ones with a larger budget to spend who would solicit these services; some a bit nerdy but cute and others pretty damn handsome. They usually lurked in the back of the club, occasionally tossing out a few hundreds until they found the dancer that struck their fancy. The lucky girl would come back the next night and brag about how she not only got paid but got fucked senseless by a total gentleman who knew the meaning of consent and respect. Tonight, you were among that chosen few. However, your ‘John’ wasn’t a man at all and she certainly was no stranger in your life.
“Oh my God… Sem’ stop, that’s not funny! ‘m gonna come if you don’t quit playing..”
“Oh? Cause you keep giggling your lil’ ass off everytime I touch you.”
So who exactly was this mystery lady?….her name? Semiu Grier. She was your senior in college and at the job you held prior to working here. A super intelligent upperclassman that took an instant liking to the wet behind the ears newbie with not a clue of how to navigate this wicked world. You had just left home and needed some money fast if you wanted to maintain your independence. That’s when you got hired at a local medical supply office as you were both studying nursing at the time. She had been lead receptionist since freshman year and you were her pupil…she struck you as no nonsense, very organized and collected. She wasn’t a woman of many words and she certainly didn’t do crowds, but her presence alone commanded attention. You’d never seen anyone like her and immediately, you were smitten. However, it didn’t take long for her to reciprocate the feeling either. She saw how shy and vulnerable you were so without hesitation, she took you underneath her wing…it wasn’t long before the two of you blossomed into something far more complex. What began as an innocent crush between a clueless, innocent young woman and her older mentor…grew into a fiery, passionate romance that exceeded all of your expectations of what love should be. You hadn’t been in many relationships and definitely not with a woman but she gave you pleasure like you’d never known, spoiled you beyond relief and made certain you never knew what it meant to struggle. Becoming down right obsessed and possessive over her little lady. However, as fate would have it, Semiu’s true occupation as the third in command for a large criminal organization came to light and not wanting to put you in any danger, she called it quits. Overcome with grief of seeing your beloved everyday and not being able to have her really did a number on you. You quit the office job and began working here shortly after because you still needed the money. Not to mention, the fast paced lifestyle provided a nice distraction. But now that you were back in her clutches and right where she wanted you, there was no way in hell she was ever letting go!
Lying flat on your back with your legs spread, Semiu traced her fingertips down the center of your torso. Delicately touching and teasing all of your sensitive spots. It was as if your body hadn’t forgotten a single one either…her plush lips, painted in red, immediately took home on your throat, causing your head to fall backwards. Meanwhile, those nimble digits found their way to your center, after teasing that swollen clit relentlessly…nestled two fingers deep into your silky cunt. “Ahhh!—fuck, yeah…” “Ooh…she misses mama, doesn’t she, baby? I bet you still can’t get yourself off after all this time. Feels so tight.”
She would be correct too! Having pampered you in more ways than one….you couldn’t reach a climax unless she was the one making it happen. You’d attempt to pull Semiu’s face towards your own, hoping for a comforting, slow yet passionate peck. But instead, you were met with the aggressive clutch of her free hand on your jaws and her tongue being shoved into your mouth. Growling and moaning into the barrage of sloppy kisses…forced out by those digits working you over down between your thighs. She was pumping so fast, it took no time at all for arousal to form. That sweet, creamy white substance building up around her rings. You were panting, whimpering and begging for her to let you release already but the only thing you got was a hand to the throat and a stern glare.
“Let me come! I can’t hold it—“
“I know damn well you ain’t tryna’ tell me what to do..must’ve taken one too many bumps off that pole. This my pussy, it’ll come when I say so..I won’t repeat myself either.”
and you knew she meant business. Two things Semiu Grier didn’t play were a messy house and a mouthy girlfriend. You learned very early on that you weren’t about to argue with that one. It was her way or none at all. Especially in the bedroom..she rarely if ever let you too but honestly, you preferred it that way.
“Besides, sugar. I know what’s best for you..I always have. Taking charge has never been your strongest suit.” Whilst still fingering you, she’d use that other set to snatch your bra down and reveal those perky tits that had been thinly concealed by the latex material. Your nipples were erect, begging to be latched onto. She’d give them both a hard squeeze before slithering her tongue around them and suckling to her heart’s content. You knew better than to interfere because this was all for her gratification…her selfish desires and fantasies. The most you could do was run your fingertips across her hair as a semblance of comfort. “Semi, baby!..that feels so good, I swear to God, you’re gonna make me fucking squirt in your—ahh fuck!”
in the midst of your declaration, you’d find your legs cradled up and in one fell swoop, pinned back behind your head, nearly sending you over the edge and giggling yet again. She wasn’t trying to hear any of that right now. Like she’d said, you’ll come when she deems it appropriate. For now, it seemed she couldn’t decide what she wanted to do with you…moving from one thing to the next. Seeming absolutely insatiable and erratic.
“Since you got so much damn energy to talk, hold those legs back and keep ‘em out of my way.”
Letting those fingers remain plunged to the hilt, you’d do exactly as instructed and Semiu maneuvered so that her face was now in line with your slit. That sensitive little bud was protruding out and that spasming hole yearned for her. And she too had a craving for your sweet nectar…wanting to lap, lick and suck until she drained you dry. Lobbing spit onto that already juicy center, she’d begin swirling her tongue around…glazing those slippery folds and fat pussy lips with her saliva. Making her suck her teeth and moan whilst devouring you.
“Mmmm….that’s it, baby. Let it out…ooh, I know it’s what you needed.”
hearing you sniffle and cry from how overly sensitive you were. You knew she always ate pussy as if her life deepened on it but this was just another level. Sloppily making out with your plump cunt, taking those fingers out just to envelop the entire mound with her mouth and sucking those premature juices between her jaws only to lean up and spit it into yours. She was making so many noises, cursing and calling out your name, which wasn’t like her at all.
“You know how long I’ve been waiting to do this again?…you owe me…”
You didn’t know what to do with yourself honestly…all you could do was watch in utter disbelief and amazement at how feral your ex lover was becoming. The usually cool, calm and collected Semiu was completely unhinged, spanking your asscheeks and spreading them apart with such force. She was always so suave and calculated with her movements, able to send you into utter bliss with little to no effort. But right now, it felt as if she had something to prove!
“Semmmm…pleaseeee! ‘M so sorry, but I can’t hold it anymore.”
“That don’t sound like asking for permission to me…I taught you better than that.”
Still suckling on your quivering pussy, your voracious ex lover leaned up, circulating a thumb pad on your clit and would not allow it to release until she heard a sufficient response.
“Say it…the way you used to. Or you’ll keep holding it..”
that stern, icy glare returned and sent a shiver up your spine. Suddenly, it was as if your brain recollected just how well trained she had you. Feeling those tight bundle of nerves tense up, (y/n) would plead with the older woman; a look of pure dishevelment on your face yet your glossy eyes and half cocked smile screamed that you loved it. You loved being bossed and tousled around like some helpless doll..bending at her whim.
“Please mama…fuckkkk..I need it. I need to come for you, so hard. I—“
just then, you’d feel that thumb rolling around like a switch trying to activate something within you. You’d continue to plead until she finally cracked a smirk herself. “Mmm, I guesss..why not? You look like you’re about to explode.” Breaking into a full blown maniacal cackle as she finally removed those fingers that were plugging your entrance, giving you a hard slap across those folds before coaxing it out. Soon, that entire couch was flooded in an array of your sweet release. A stream of warm squirt spilling and flying everywhere. You’d felt as if someone had not only let the flood gates open but as if they’d let the air out of your lungs too; waiting what felt like forever with baited breath for the wish you so desired. Finally, you’d find the strength to let out that loud cry you’d been holding in and if the walls weren’t insulated as much as they were, the entire club would’ve heard you.
Nonetheless, Semiu seemed unphased as per usual..rather enjoying the sight of you falling apart at her whim.
“Damn…and you got it all over my costume.” That tone is as calm as ever with a hint of facetiousness behind it. You’d giggle, biting your fingertip as you tried to revel in the midst of your afterglow. However, she wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily. “I didn’t mean to, promise..” being cheeky and cute, even more so with that adorable feline getup you had on…knowing she’d just forgive you in an instant.
“You’re sorry, huh? Well lucky you, I have a surprise..” standing to her feet, Semiu would begin to strip from those now sullied garments, exposing her own nude body. Still as toned and sexy as ever..those tits are still so pretty and delectable. But that wasn’t the focal point of your attention…no, when she pulled down those slacks, gliding them down her hips, you’d see something spring out. That would explain the loose fitting bottoms and overly large coat. Almost as if she knew she’d run into you. Even so, you didn’t say a word or even question it. Instead, you’d lie there still exposed, biting at your lower lip.
“I know that look…you’re getting all happy but if you think I’m letting you off easy, you’ out of your mind..”
but she knew it was of no use…nothing was getting through to that thick little skull of yours. And instead, she’d have to fuck you back in line. That domineering forcefulness was what you got riled up. Nothing made you wetter than being manhandled by this beautiful specimen of a woman. With her tits swaying, Semiu would grasp your ankle and drag you to the edge, making you yelp like a helpless puppy. But trust, you were exactly where you wanted to be.
She’d meet your gaze yet again and this time, she was the one in complete control. Bearing all of her weight across your thick frame. She’d secure those legs behind your head before tapping that tip onto your sensitive folds. Grasping the top of your head, the slender framed woman made sure that all of your focus was on her as she dredged the artificial cock across your slit…watching those legs tremble in anticipation and your lower lip tuck in between your teeth.
“Pl—please Sem’... .don't do this. Fuck meee..”
“I hear a lot of whining but not enough begging going on…must not want it too bad..”
she was nonchalant as ever…slowly dredging it across that mound and back over your clit; her fingers still clutching your head but she didn’t even look in your direction. Just another tactic to get under your skin…but as always, you relented and gave in. Pleading with her to just release all of that pent up aggression…all of that anger with herself for letting you go. Running your fingers down the side of her face, you’d whimper to your ex in hopes of softening her but instead…
“…Alright…whatever you say.”
you were met with that deviant, sadistic smirk of a woman who was hellbent on watching you crumble underneath her. Grasping the top of your head with one hand and the shaft of that strap with the other, she’d guide it into those wet folds…without gentleness or ease either.
“What’s the face for, baby? This is what you requested, right?” Mocking your gasp and stunned expression. Clutching a firm hand around your jaw, Semiu would make her first big thrust, just to get you acclimated to the shape and to satisfy her own ego, knowing she was about to have you climbing these walls. Bending down and through gritted teeth, she’d utter with a laugh before cutting it off:
“Then act like it and let me have this pussy.”
immediately, she’d begin the deep, fast paced descent into your pussy. Thrusting in and out as if it were nothing. Those tattooed hips bucked and snapped with each stroke..the next rougher than the last as well as her heavy handed slaps. (Y/N) moaned and whimpered, writhing around on that thick plastic…your legs kept springing open, that frame jolting with each stroke and those plump, painted tits bouncing up and down.
“Oh fuck! Yes Sem..right there!..” tears streaming down your face from the brute impact of her fucking. Her toxic trait was that once she got started, she had no idea how to let up until she saw a shaking, quivering mess. Until she heard you cry and beg for the sweet release of an orgasm… growling as she fed you a sultry, passionate kiss, Semiu soon replaced her tongue with those same fingers that had made place inside of you earlier, making you gag on the gold rings placed on every finger.
“This is what you’re supposed to look like…eyes in the back of your head, begging for me to fuck you stupid.”
just like that, you’d become ensnared in her trap again with no chance of leaving those clutches. Semiu pounded into you with absolute force, listening to the sounds of those squishy walls sucking her in and the juices flailing about. She was as focused as ever, determined to make you reach ecstasy at her hands. Watching you gag on those jewelry laces digits, she’d cackle at the sight of you drooling; speeding up her movements until she was rewarded with your tears and the pawing at her tits. You were hoping for comfort but instead, your hands were smacked away and she’d merely mock you with whiny moans.
“Please Sem, please!—you’re such a hypocrite, darling. Always acting like you don’t want it but begging for more. Make up your mind. Make up your mind right now or you won’t come.”
Without hesitation, you’d begin pleading for that sweet release. Looking into her eyes with utter desperation and luckily for you, she was feeling a bit more generous than previous times. Sometimes, she’d feed you strokes for nearly an hour straight with no remorse. Leaning up, Semiu would regurgitate a lob of saliva and spit it back onto your folds and clit, circulating her thumb pad around it.
“Count from five..slow. You can let it out then and not a second sooner.”
Pacing herself as she rubbed counterclockwise. You’d begin heaving and panting, your chest rising but your face nearly blank from being so overstimulated. You’d do exactly as she said and around the three mark, she’d speed up both her hand and toy movements, drilling that creamy cunt for any last bits it contained, you’d begin to spurt out a little splash but you’d clamp down to show your resolve. As a final act of torture, she’d grip your throat, knowing how much it turned you on.
“You’re almost there…breathe..”
“T-two..”
“Just a little longer…”
“One! Fuck—one! Please let me come!”
“Let it out, sweetheart. Make that pretty pussy squirt for me the way you used to.”
with that, you’d let out a loud, breathy cry along with all those pent up juices you’d been withholding. Leave yet again another mess. Having being pushed out, Semiu would take the opportunity to lap up that stream and garner a mouthful. Once she did, she’d take the opportunity to exchange some with you, spitting it back into your mouth with a nasty kiss. As you rode out the orgasm, she’d pat your face and coax you down. Once you came to, you’d be met with the comforting gaze you were used to and not the one of a madwoman set on making you suffer. That was the Semiu you knew and loved.
“…my love, my love…look at you.”
cupping your own breasts for comfort, (Y/N) began to laugh. Not out of mockery but shock…shock from experiencing something only she could give you.
“Listen…whatever I did, I’m sorry. But goddamn…you’ve never fucked me like that.” Stating so matter of factly. Unable to fathom why she was so unhinged tonight. But alas, you had nothing to apologize for.
“No, I’m the one that should be apologizing…” another side of her you’ve never witnessed. Cradling you in her grasp, Semiu began to coo to you, stroking the side of your face.
“For someone so smart, I’ve been pretty damn stupid. I let you go and I never should've made that mistake….I’m sorry, (Y/N).”
finally, she’d meet you with one final kiss and this time, it lingered on until both of you felt as if the air had left your lungs. “But I won’t let it happen again, I swear…I love you.” In that moment, your eyes would begin to well and you felt like that same young girl she’d met years ago. Vulnerable, soft and in need of the one person who made you feel safe,
“Semi…I love you too. Don’t leave me again.”
merely chuckling, she’d hook her pinky around yours and place a gentle kiss atop your forehead.
“Swear on my life…now let’s get the hell out of here, and get you cleaned up. The night is still young…” knowing that this was merely the beginning of her antics. “Besides, I got some people I wanna introduce you to.” And in that moment, you couldn’t help but to tease her.
“Oh? Like your boyfriend I saw you with earlier? He’s cute.”
Earning you the nastiest side eye and snack of her teeth she could muster.
“Sounds like you ain’t learned nothing…maybe I’ll have to go a little harder next time.” “I’m kidding! I’m kidding.” Hoping to smooth it over with that adorable giggle and more pecks. But in her eyes, there was nothing you could do wrong…not now and not ever. Although this night was one of tricks, deceit and bad luck, Semiu felt extremely lucky..knowing that she got the ultimate prize and that no one else could ever claim you!
why not make reader not black? no offence at all but the point of x reader is so that everyone could feel included not excluded. some of us are asian, mexican, or arab. not everyone on tumblr is black, please be mindful of that!! i love ur stories but it doesn’t feel like x reader to those who don’t share those traits! ;((
im going to say this with all due respect: i don't care if you don't feel included with my black readers. black women are constantly overlooked in fandoms. the majority of x reader fanfics are written with white readers in mind, which is why we read "you blushed" or "he ran his hand through your hair" in them.
black readers are not a majority at all. there are plenty of fanfics for non-black people, so i don't understand why you're coming to my inbox crying.
you sound like you're forced to read my work. if that bothers you, you can make your own fanfics with asian/latina/arab readers or read someone else's work. im not going to censor myself for a stranger.
we can do whatever we want with readers! plus-size, black, shy, baddie... just because one person doesn't like it, i'm not going to stop. if i hadn't specified that it was a black reader, i would have understood that it bothered you, but it's stated at the beginning of the fanfic.
black women deserve their safe place too. we wouldn't have needed to create black readers if white people didn't think they were the center of the universe and forgot everyone else when they wrote.
not everyone is black, so not everybody needs to read my fics. so no, i will not "be mindful" of that, like you said. stop forcing writers to suit your tastes and look for writers who suit you, thank you.
𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count— 4.7K, content creators au!, original!blackfemalecharacter, tojifushiguro!, aggressive!toji, sweet!toji, dominant!toji, possessive!toji, pet names, dirtytalk!, rough!sex, unprotected!sex, creampie!, sweet sex, fingering, squirting!, riding, doggy style, pussy eating, minors are not welcome! 𓊇ྀི
メモ。— another random late night post. not my fave, but i still liked it, teehee. blame @ gattouz0 for inspiring me to make this, LMAO! if you know, you know. anyways, bye !
ビジュアル。 ビジュアル。
CHEWING YOUR BOTTOM LIP BECAME A FORCE OF HABIT IN THIS MOMENT. Your thighs pressed together beneath the slip you wear, pink bow sunken between the fullness of your breast angled directly at the camera. You’d been with this man all day—a little tipsy from bottles of sake after consuming bowls of ramen—so, why were you acting like this?
Hair draped around your face in wavy curls, it’s beautifully messy in contrast to your deeply freckled cheeks—Your slender eyes watched above the camera, attention on him, mostly.
Smoke curls lazily from his cigarette as he adjusts the camera, black fabric of his sleeves straining against his biceps with each movement. His dark eyes flick up to meet yours—sharp, assessing—before returning to the screen.
“Everythin’ alright?”
His voice is rough, but there’s an edge of patience in it. Like he already knows you’re nervous.
Your fingers twist in the cotton of your slip, knuckles brushing against the bow between your breasts. God, you’d replayed his videos enough times—the way he moved, the low rasp of his voice—it felt surreal to be here now, in this room with him so close you could catch the scent of tobacco and something muskier underneath.
The plane ticket had been real. The texts arranging this had been real. But none of it truly hit until you were standing in his apartment, watching him loom around the room like some kind of tattooed god with that eyebrow piercing glinting under the lights of his midnight hair.
“I’m makin’ you uncomfortable?”
“Hm?” You blink, “No—no,” you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I’m being weird, aren’t I?”
A rough chuckle escapes him as he plucks the cigarette from his mouth, tapping ash into a nearby tray.
“‘Weird’s fine. Better than fakin’ it.”
Your vision flickers down at your thighs—you drag your thumbs across the sun-kissed flesh as your slender eyes come up, “I guess I’m not too strange—considering you flew me across the country.”
He hums, the sound deep and amused.
“Definitely was curious ‘bout you, yeah.”
Your smile was soft, taking in his words quietly.
“Do you need help?”
“Nah. Camera’s a man’s job,” he rumbles, adjusting the angle one last time before straightening up to his full height again.
Your shy giggle a second after makes him pause though—those grey eyes flicking back to you with something softer in them now, despite the tattoos and scars that say otherwise.
“There it is,” he grunts, “Another laugh. Haven’t heard’ it since the restaurant.”
The blush creeping up your neck is immediate. He notices—of course he does, because nothing gets past this man if all he does is stand there like some unshakable force of nature.
“Relax. ‘Promise I’m not as scary as I look.”
“I don’t think you’re scary—“
He raises a brow, and of course you cave.
"Okay. A little," you admit with a smile, "How do you say I’m nervous in Japanese?”
He takes a second to study you, amusement glimmering in the depths of those dark eyes. Then, with a deep chuckle of his own, he murmurs, "Kinchō shite imasu.”
“Kinchō shite imasu,” you repeat smoothly, the southern lilt of your voice disappearing as it’s slower, more sensual, “‘Studied Japanese for a couple of years—but it sounds better on native tongue, I see.”
Him easing your mind might’ve softened your barrier. You lean back as your palms go flat along the comforter, showing the natural curve of your frame as your nipples press against the confines of your dress.
He doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he looks.
“Pretty and smart,” he grunts, “‘Got the whole package.”
The camera doesn't lie, after all. As he crosses the room with the easy grace of a hunter approaching its prey, you can't help but watch— his shoulders seem even broader through the lens, muscles shifting beneath the fabric of his sleeves.
When he sits beside you, the bed dips with his weight, bringing you even closer.
"Can I touch you?"
You give a soft nod, the small twitch on your lips nearly horny without having to say it.
His arm encircles your waist, hand hot on your hip as he pulls you closer to him. His fingers trace small, gentle circles, almost as if he's taking the time to memorize every curve of your body.
A lazy smirk curves at the corner of his full lips as he introduces himself to the camera in perfect Japanese, “Fushiguro tōjidesu.”
Your faces are inches apart as he murmurs to you, “Dokokarakitano ka oshietekudasai.”
“Watashi wa nyūōrinzu shusshindesuga, kōgai no inaka ni sunde imasu,” you murmur back, sliding your fingers across his chest to tug him a bit closer, “That was good, hm?”
“You sound like a damn native, sweet girl. Where'd you learn the language?"
You giggle, “Well—one of my dreams was to visit here. I felt like it’d be more respectful to learn the language— not be some annoying tourist that can’t communicate. Plus, it’s just beautiful to me.”
Your fingers graze his throat and jaw—you breathily question, “Have you ever visited the states?”
"A few times," he grumbles, his hand squeezing your hip almost possessively as he looks down at you, "New York, California. ‘Been to New Orleans once, too.”
“Really?”
“Got a thing for southern accents. Your little drawl? Fuckin’ lethal.”
His thumb strokes slow circles against the dip of your waist, gaze heavy and half-lidded—like he’s already imagining how else that accent might sound tangled up later. The camera catches every bit of it—the way you melt into him, how small you look wrapped in his grip, the heat simmering between you both even without moving yet.
He doesn't rush though; lets the moment stretch until he murmurs, “Prettier than a fuckin’ picture, too.”
Then it happens—slow.
So slow.
His head tilts, rough fingertips guiding your jaw toward him as he closes the last bit of distance. The first press of Toji’s mouth against yours is deliberate, firm but not demanding—yet. A quiet sound escapes you when he pulls back just enough to tease, sealing his lips over yours again with more insistence this time.
Your back arches into him as soon as that rough palm drags up to cup your breasts through the slip—it’s torture in slow motion—his grip tightens possessively on fabric and skin alike, kneading your nipple until you whimper right into the next kiss.
He grins against your mouth, “Fuckin’ perfect.”
It’s a full on make out—tongues stroking, lips smacking. Your slip is barely there as his fingers hook the delicate fabric and drag it down with a rough urgency, exposing your nipples to the warm air of the room. His breath hitches at the sight—hardened peaks begging for his mouth, already flushed from his teasing hands.
Toji growls before leaning down without hesitation, sealing his lips around one nipple with a deep groan. His tongue flicks over it in slow circles while he palms your other breast—squeezing just enough to make you arch into him like some kind of desperate offering.
Your palms go back to leaning against the bed for balance as pleasure surges through you—head tilting with a soft gasp, forcing yourself to watch through hooded eyes again. He’s teasing with his lips, pulling off with a wet pop every few seconds.
Every flick of his tongue sends sharp jolts of pleasure through your nerves, leaving you shuddering—fingers twisting in the sheets as your thighs part wider instinctively, like your body’s already begging for more. His mouth is relentless—kissing, sucking, teasing each nipple until they’re glistening and swollen under his attention.
Another whimper escapes when he finally pulls back to claim your lips again, breath hitching as you murmur against his mouth between desperate little kisses—“Feels so good…”
Then softer, “Can you… touch me?” Your hips roll once, a silent plea against the growing heat between your legs.
Toji grunts in deep approval, before slipping a hand down slowly over the curve of your stomach—lower… lower. The camera catches how violently you shiver when those thick fingers finally drag over where you need him most through damp fabric. He parts your thighs, rubbing your clit through the fabric of your panties.
His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles over your clit through the fabric—just enough pressure to make your thighs twitch, but not nearly enough to give you real relief. A low grunt rumbles from his chest as he nips at your lips between tiny, teasing kisses—one large hand pressing down on the inside of your thigh to keep you spread open for him.
“Look at you.”
He rasps this against your mouth, thumb rubbing harder just to hear that sweet little whine slip from you again—“Fuckin’ shakin’ like this and my fingers ain’t even in yet.”
You pout against his lips—cheeks flushed and lashes fluttering as pleasure coils tighter in your stomach with each lazy stroke. His smirk is downright sinful when he catches the way your hips jerk up into his touch despite yourself.
Toji seals his lips around one hardened nipple again—while sucking lightly, his fingers dip beneath the fabric. The lens catches everything—how violently you arch off the bed beneath him, and how shamelessly wet that first sink of two thick digits feels inside.
That pout deepens the second those fingers slide in—your breath stutters into a soft, pushed gasp before melting into a tiny sob against his mouth.
“Relax.”
You try—you really do, forcing slow breaths through flared nostrils as you ease your legs open just a little wider. The stretch burns so good it pulls another whine from you anyway—high and desperate in the quiet room. Toji’s thumb rubs firm circles over your clit, as if to reward you for listening.
“Good fuckin’ girl. That’s perfect.”
Your mewl is barely audible—just a breathy, whimpering “Feels so good,” spilled against his lips between kisses.
Your fingers wrap around his wrist— grip tightening as you hesitantly start to guide him, showing exactly how you want it. His exhale is hot on your mouth when he lets you take control, his fingers being tugged in and out, before yanking your thighs wider apart in one rough motion.
“‘Makin’ your pussy look so pretty,” he growls toward the camera, spreading you further open with the heel of his palm so every inch of slick glistening skin is visible— those thick fingers start fucking into you properly, your folds puffing around them as your pussy squelches.
“Fuck, Toji.”
Toji’s voice is low, gruff—a rough murmur pressed right against your swollen lips as his fingers work you open with relentless precision.
"Kibun wa īdesu ka? Fuck, you take me so well."
You give a shaky moan in return, hips twitching up into each thrust of his fingers. Every time he kisses you again, it’s deeper—filthier—tongue sliding hot and possessive over yours like he’s trying to taste the sounds spilling from your mouth.
“‘Want you in me, baby.”
“Don’t wanna break you,” he murmurs, “‘Know you can’t take all of me yet.”
A quick glance down between your spread legs confirms it—his dick is in fact heavy beneath those jeans, thick veins running along the length where he’s palming himself absentmindedly.
“‘M sorry, alright?” he grunts, kissing your lips softly—you give him the softest smile, dragging your tongue across his as you murmur, “‘S okay, baby.”
The second his tongue drags flat and slow over your clit? Your back arches, hands flying to tangle in his hair immediately at the addition of his apology.
He’s eating you, spreading you wider with his thumbs—his groan vibrates against you at the sight, all slick pink folds desperate and clenching around nothing. The camera doesn’t miss how violently your thighs shake when he flicks his tongue faster.
“‘There we go.”
Your thighs quiver uncontrollably, fingers tightening in his dark hair as his tongue laps at you with slow, deliberate strokes—every flick sending electric shocks of pleasure straight through your core.
He pauses just long enough to glance up at you through those dark lashes, lips glossy from how thoroughly he’s been working you over.
"Kirei," he growls, spreading your folds wider for the camera—displaying every inch of your pussy like a damn feast. His thumb rubs firm circles right above where his mouth had just been, coaxing another mewl from your lips.
Your fingers slide through his dark strands, gently pushing his hair back from his face as he continuously devours you.
“Anata wa totemo hansamudesu,” you breathe out, voice trembling between moans—telling him just how handsome he looks between your thighs.
Toji pauses just to smirk up at you—that cocky bastard—before deliberately spreading his tongue flat against your clit, lapping all around your folds to make your legs vibrate beneath him.
His hands slide down to grip your thighs, guiding your legs higher as he murmurs, “Need you just like that—good job, baby.”
He doesn’t miss the way you hesitate—how shy you still are under his touch despite how wrecked he’s already made you look. His thumb brushes over your knee soothingly,“‘S alright,” he growls, “You look so fuckin’ pretty.”
Toji then strips off his clothes, peeling away layer by layer until every inch of him is on display. The camera catches it all—the dark ink winding over muscle and scars alike; the way his abs flex as he positions himself between your legs again; how massive and veined his dick looks as it slides hot and heavy against your dripping folds.
Your breath hitches when the thick tip prods at your entrance—so much bigger than just fingers now.
“Hold ‘em however you need,” he instructs, placing your palms against the back of your knees. Your curls sprawl below your face as your back lays against the comforter, reflexively arching in anticipation. You wanted him bad.
The second his tip sinks in, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp—eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before snapping wide again. The lens’ reflection shows every twitch of your thighs as they shake under the stretch, fingers gripping at his own when he laces them with yours. He’s huge, looming above with shoulders that cover sunlight from the window.
“Breathe,” he orders gruffly, thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand where it’s pinned beside your head.
You exhale shakily—the pout on those pretty lips deepening with each slow inch, he slides himself deeper inside until you’re practically whimpering his name.
“‘S perfect. Just like that,” His praise is low and graveled, “Takin’ me so fuckin' good.”
The moment he bottoms out, a deep gasp tears from your throat—head tipping back against the sheets as your body tries to adjust to just how full you feel. His grip on your hand tightens, keeping you anchored while he pulls all the way out—just to savor the way your walls flutter around him in protest.
Then he slides back in—deeper this time, angling his hips just right to drag against that sweet spot inside. Your reaction is immediate; a broken moan spills past those swollen red lips as your thighs tense around his waist.
Toji does it again. And again. Each thrust slower than the last—just so he can watch every twitch of pleasure ripple across your face. There’s no more soothing left in him; just primal hunger dripping from every growled word—“Fuckin’ made for me.”
You’re so sensitive—every drag of him has you whining, little broken noises slipping out every time those heavy balls slap against you. You can’t help but peek down between your own trembling thighs to watch—witness how filthy it looks when he pulls back, just enough for the tip to glisten before slamming in again.
“‘See how good I’m wreckin’ you?”
He’s glaring, deliberately taunting as he murmurs—“Fuckin' love how tight you get when you look at me.”
The camera captures every breathtaking detail. Your freckled face flushes a deep rose, lips swollen from pouting and moaning, your dark curls fanned out wildly across the sheets like a halo of fire. Your fingers slide down with trembling hesitation, fingertips brushing your clit in slow circles as you whimper—
“Feels s—so good… wanted you for so long."
Toji angles his body just right for the lens—every tattooed muscle flexing as he fucks into you with deep, measured thrusts. The sight of your tiny frame shaking beneath him is almost obscene compared to his sheer size. His groan is dark when he catches those shy fingers sliding down, working in tight little circles over your bundle of nerves.
“Yeah? ‘Wanted me?"
His voice is pure gravel, hips snapping harder at the frantic nod you give him—those wet lashes fluttering as pleasure coils tighter inside you.
Then he’s crashing down into a desperate kiss at your admission—tongue sliding against yours messily as if trying to swallow every broken yes, every whimper that spills past your lips between ragged breaths.
"Pound me... please."
Toji's grunt is guttural in response, his grip tightening on your hips as he shifts his stance. He starts slow—dragging every inch out with torturous precision before slamming back in deep, setting a relentless rhythm that has your body jerking beneath him like a live wire. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, wet and filthy, punctuated by the slick slap of his hips meeting yours over and over.
Your mouth stays parted against his, breaths hitching between desperate moans as each thrust punches the air from your lungs. Your eyes roll back when he angles himself just right—drawing out a pornographic moan that drips with pleasure.
"That's it,” Toji rasps against your lips, his pace never faltering as he urges you on, “Louder. Let me hear how good I'm fuckin' you."
A deep frown knits your brows together, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure—tears glistening at the corners of your eyes as you start creaming around him, your walls fluttering desperately. Toji’s grin is pure arrogance, tongue sliding against yours in a filthy kiss even as he murmurs rough praise, “Attagirl… keep takin’ me so fuckin’ good.”
His hands cradle either side of your face suddenly, pulling you up to meet his forehead as he keeps driving into that perfect angle—relentless. The camera loses sight of your expression behind the shield of his tattooed arms bracketing you, but it doesn’t miss the way those broken moans climb higher with every snap of his hips.
“‘Need t’ make sure you remember this.”
Your entire body seizes—back arching off the bed as pleasure tears through you violently, thighs clamping around his shoulders in a futile attempt to push him away. But Toji just growls, pinning your hips down harder with those big hands, grinding deep as he forces you to take him.
“Open this shit up,” he rasps again,“C’mon, baby. Let go.”
And when you finally do? Your legs fall open wider than before—Your head tilts back against the sheets, mouth dropping into a silent gasp before a loud, echoing moan shatters through the room.
Toji watches every second of it—how your pussy keeps sopping around him even after you’ve gone limp beneath his touch. His smirk is downright feral as he leans down to lick at your jawline lazily.
“‘Fuckin’ beautiful.”
Your body had never been this overwhelmed in pleasure. But if that was intense, this position had to be worse—your stomach is now pressed into the sheets as your body arches beneath him, Toji’s palm laced within your own as your ass drops back onto him— cheek flushed against the pillow, your moans muffled beneath each time he splits back in between your folds.
“Baby…your balls are h—hitting….”
It’s all you can manage before another sharp gasp cuts you off, as they’re slapping against your clit with every deep stroke.
“Yeah? Keep goin’?”
You’re nodding, his free hand dragging down to spread you even wider for the lens, showing off how messy he’s made you look already.
“Keep yourself open like this. Need that pussy lookin’ pretty on camera, baby.”
Toji’s thumb swipes over where you’re stretched around him, the sound that claws out of your mouth is throaty, desperation in every peak of your vocals.
He grunts, “You’re so fuckin’ good, girl.”
You’re soaking him—his tip is completely drenched as your walls pulse wildly. Toji’s chuckle is dark with arrogance, tongue clicking against his teeth as he admires the way you fall apart for him.
“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing one large hand down in a sharp spank against your trembling ass—the sound rings out before his fingers dig into the stinging flesh possessively.
“‘Knew you could take it.”
You lift yourself up weakly, body swaying as you turn to glance back at him—chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Your voice is a soft, pleading whisper—
“Lemme’ ride you, baby.”
Toji’s grin is wolfish, hands sliding up the curve of your waist before giving a rough squeeze in agreement. Your lips meet again in another slow kiss— tongue shyly tracing his bottom lip before he pulls back just enough to murmur against your mouth, “You good? Need anythin’ from me?”
A tiny giggle escapes you—lips brushing his as you shake your head, “‘M perfect.”
Then you’re climbing atop of him in one fluid motion—positioning yourself with all the grace of someone who knows exactly how good they look on camera. Your body angles just right so only silhouettes are shown—the elegant slope of your back arching beautifully, dark curls cascading down like silk curtains that shield Toji’s face from view while the rest remains deliciously exposed. The camera shows everything—the flex of his thighs beneath yours, how effortlessly thick he looks buried inside when you sink down fully—but most importantly? That first sinful roll of your hips that wrings a guttural groan from deep within Toji's chest.
The camera picks up your soft, broken whimpers—little “Ah, Ah’s,” slipping out as you ride him with slow, deliberate bounces—each descent deep and lingering. Your hips roll in a way that makes the headboard creak softly, your ass rising and falling in perfect time.
Toji’s moan rumbles low, rugged and rasped as his fingers thread through the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp mid giggle.
“Does it feel good?”
“Fuckin’ amazin’,” he rasps back, “‘Feels good as hell, baby.”
To hear his praise felt encoraging—grinding down harder now, you just want to hear another one of those sinful groans tear from his throat. Your voice is sweeter than the South, “Like me bouncin’ on your dick, baby?”
The lens captures every messy detail—Toji's hips lift slightly off the bed to meet each drop of yours; his rough fingertips brushing against exposed skin where loose curls frame either side-of-your waistline; even more damning? He gives her a low moan, “Fuckin’ love it. ‘Shit’s curvin’ in you so good.”
Your sultry gaze flickers toward the camera as you pick up the pace, bouncing fully on him now—A breathy moan slips from your lips when he groans, fingers suddenly digging into the curve of your waist to slow you down.
"Fuck—not yet," he grunts, jaw clenched as he fights back his own release.
You immediately still, voice dripping with sweetness as you murmur an apology against his lips between kisses—“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to push you too far."
"'S okay. You’re doin' a fuckin’ great job,” he tugs your mouth back onto his —“Keep goin’, yeah?”
You shift subtly, movements slowing into a deep, sensual grind—rolling your hips in smooth circles that make his breath hitch, the camera captures the quiet intensity of it—the way you rock back and forth with deliberate friction, chasing another orgasm as your lashes flutter shut.
You’re close.
A gasp catches in your throat when the angle shifts just right. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip to stifle what would’ve been an embarrassingly loud moan. Toji’s grip tightens on your hips at the sight; thumbs rubbing slow circles against flushed skin as he encourages with rough murmurs—
“I know it feels good. ‘Go head, let go.”
And then you do—soft little sobs of pleasure spill past parted lips as you grind down harder than before. His hands slide up the trembling line of your back possessively, fingertips tracing each dip and curve while his praise rumbles low between them, “‘Pretty as all hell like this…take what you need."
“B—Baby... I feel like I h—have to pee…”
His chuckle is dark, knowing. One hand slides up to cup the back of your neck as he pulls you close enough for his lips to brush the shell of your ear, “Nah,” Toji murmurs, voice dripping with filthy promises, “‘S just gonna gush on me. Let it happen."
Your whimper is high and desperate at his words, but you nod anyway — fingers digging into his shoulders, you keep grinding down into that perfect spot. His palms guide your hips gently, keeping the angle just right as he growls encouragement against sweat-slicked skin—
"That’s it… fuckin’ ruin me. Not even gonna move, baby. Jus’ let you have shit your way.”
“Toji, I—I can't... kuso…”
His response is a low, throaty murmur against the damp skin of your neck— “Ukeru dake ii... ore ni makaserou.”
Then, it happens. Your walls convulse violently around him, slick gushing and squirting as you push him out from sheer force—but Toji’s grip tightens instantly. One hand wraps around the base of your throat to keep you in place while the other pins your hips down, so you have no choice but to tremble through every last second of it.
“Fuckin’ perfect. Did so goddamn good for me.”
He kisses along your collarbone, “You alright? Talk to me.”
Through trembling nods and hiccuped breaths still laced with pleasured drunk whimpers? You manage shaky words in return, “Y—Yeah, Mhm.”
And then he's moving again—sliding back into your folds that welcomes him greedily despite how wrecked you already are; he props his legs up, fucking you from beneath.
“Relax,” he rasps between gritted teeth—one hand sliding down to squeeze the plush curve of your ass while the other grips your waist possessively, “‘M almost there… jus’ need you to take it.”
Then he still’s—buried to the hilt as he finally lets go with a moan; warmth spilling inside so messily that it makes both their bodies jerk from sheer intensity. Your walls flutter in tiny aftershocks until they push out around him—the slick drip of his cum trickling down his tip making Toji chuckle darkly.
"'That’s right… look at that shit."
His palm lands with a sharp smack against your ass—once, twice, the sound echoing through the room as you squeak in playful protest—you then spread yourself even wider for the camera, showing the creamy glisten of your pussy.
His chuckle is low and wicked, “Fuckin’ filthy, baby.”
Then he’s yanking you up into a bruising kiss—tongue sliding against yours like he’s trying to taste every last whimper you have left.
His hands roam over your trembling curves, pulling back just enough to rasp against swollen lips, “‘S all good? Hurt anywhere?”
You just giggle breathlessly—kissing him back sweetly before wrapping both arms around his neck, pressing your faces together so the camera catches the angle perfectly.
“Perfect.”
You then softly admit, “A little hungry, though.”
The camera catches the way Toji’s smirk softens at your words, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips before he hoists you up effortlessly against his chest.
“Greedy lil’ thing,” he murmurs, “Better feed you quick, ‘fore I get other ideas.”
Toji's voice rumbles with a rough edge, knocking his forehead into yours with a finalized grunt—“Now I got a damn good reason to visit New Orleans."
His large palm covers the camera, and your laughter fades off screen just to be replaced by a final sound of protest—
“Who did this to you?” A deep voice echoes, vibrating around the walls of the throne room. On the opulent throne sits the owner of the baritone voice — Ryomen Sukuna. The king of curses, resting his head on his arm as he looks down at you, too scared to look up from your feet.
“I don’t like repeating myself.” He warns, your body hasn’t ceased shaking. Your uniform is tattered, the rips in the fabric revealing deep purple bruises. Uraume was the one that found you, unconscious in the butlers pantry. After waking you up they brought you to the throne room. So there you were, kneeling at the feet of your king.
You arrived to the estate a year ago, your life as a servant was agreeable. Lord Sukuna treated all his servants well. You were loyal, efficient and pleasant to look at, it was only a matter of time before he started to notice you.
At first he requested you be the one to serve him breakfast. Then it became lunch, and suddenly you tended to all his meals. He demanded you for everything, his bathing, dressing. He could do all of these things himself of course, but he prefered your gentle hands. His personal attendant, not even Uraume, had seen the king of curses at his most vulnerable... but you had bared witness to all of him.
“Fine, if you won’t tell me who. Then why?” Ryomen slowly rises from his throne, his looming figure towering over your kneeling body. He lowers himself to your level, one hand reaches down to lift your chin. Firm yet gentle he forces you to look up at him, your eyes meeting his red ones. Your once flawless skin is covered in bruises. His eyes darken.
“They t-think you favor me.” Is all you can manage to get out.
Word spreads around the estate of course. And plus Sukuna didn’t exactly hide his preference for you. You didn’t sleep with the rest of the help, you were given a room connected to his. ‘In case he requested your presence in the night’ but the reality was he slept better knowing you were near. You didn’t eat the servant food, you dined in the great hall. At a separate table he had made for you. All of these things on full display for the others to see, it wasn’t long before the insults started. At first it was the odd ‘slut’ or ‘whore’ being mumbled in passing. Then an accidental shove into the wall, always followed by a curt “sorry”.
But today? It was your birthday. You had only mentioned it to Ryomen in passing one day at breakfast. He never understood the need for such a useless celebration. You went about your duties for the day, when Uraume found you and handed you a small box. And there on display for everyone to see, a beautiful beaded bracelet made from polished cherry wood. A token of appreciation ‘for your hard work’.
A gift from the king of curses.
“What’s so great about you anyway?”
“Lord Sukuna’s bed-warmer gets everything she wants!”
They punched and kicked, throwing you into the pantry. The group of servants you once thought of as your family. Clouded by jealousy, hatred towards you — the lord’s favorite.
Ryomen Sukuna, the epitome of ruthlessness and malevolence, softens his gaze. He looks upon your trembling form with… pity? His moment of weakness is replaced by an unreadable expression.
“You have been relieved of your servant duties. You will stay here in my quarters from here on out.” It’s a demand, leaving no room for objection. Your eyes well up with tears looking up at your king, his other hand wipes them away. He rises, walking towards the door, his back facing you.
“Get up. Uraume will tend to your injuries. Once you are well, we will visit the servant’s quarters. You will point out those who laid their filthy hands on you, and I will kill them.”
21k! CONTENT WARNING (MDNI) • phone s*x (mutual m*sturbation), edg*ng, unprotected s*x, p -> v s*x, b*ckshots, squ*rting, choking, c*rvix kissing, rough consensual s*x, dominating male character, possessive behavior/talk, dummification, foot f*tish, minor size k*nk, tummy bulge, heavy use of dirty talk, use of profanity, nicknames (Mami, Mama, Papa, Pa), use of the n-word (all characters & Author are Black) • INSPIRED BY THIS POST • CHARACTER VISUALZ
PART 1 HERE ->
DRAGGING A HEAVY HAND DOWN HIS FACE, Sito releases a long-held sigh.
Parked up outside of the auto body shop, he sits in his car with heavy eyes. His cousin is still inside, in a screaming-match with the mechanic about a change in the previously discussed price.
He could only last about two minutes before he had to leave the confrontation behind for his peace of mind.
With dead eyes, he stares blankly ahead. The sun has long since went down, leaving the sky a dark blue. He should be in bed right now, laid back, watching Cimani go on and on about some random topic plaguing her mind at the moment.
He hopes she didn’t forget his call.
He kisses his teeth. “Matter fact … ‘cause I know she forgot—“
His fingers move as he speaks to himself, tapping to get to her contact.
For a minute, the FaceTime call rings out until ultimately going unanswered. His face twists up at that.
So, with an even worse attitude, he calls again. Because, who does she think she is, ignoring his call? That is not what they do.
His phone rings out for some time. His frustration is growing. Just as he’s sure the call is about to drop, the phone chimes as it’s answered.
It’s quiet for a few seconds as the call connects, then he hears her shifting around in bed.
“Hello?”
He looks at the screen, her camera turned off.
“So you forgot you had to call me?”
“No?”
Her voice is soft and quiet.
“Why your voice sound like that? You sound like you just waking up.”
There’s a long delay before she answers. “M’not…”
“Yeah, aight.” He stares at the screen, eyes narrowing in a squint. “Why am I looking at myself? I FaceTimed you. This ain’t no regular call.”
A soft, sound comes from her end of the call. He’s not even sure he could tell what kind of sound it was.
“I don’t wanna t-turn it on.”
He lifts a brow. “You want me to hang up? I’m bothering you or something?”
A short breath leaves her. “You’re n-not bothering me.”
“So turn your camera on.”
“Sito—“
“Yo, quit acting like this before I hang up. Forreal, ‘Mani. You sure you not just waking up?”
“Oh my God … I’m not.” There’s some shifting going on, picked up by the mic. It’s about a minute before her camera finally turns on.
Sito finally sees her in her bonneted-glory. And she’s as barefaced as ever, noting in particular how low her eyes are.
“What day you booked the lash appointment for?”
“Um… “ Her eyes flutter as she pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth. She exhales. “S-Saturday.” There’s a tiny inflection in her voice.
He expects her to go on a tangent about the style of lashes she’s getting, even complain about how long it takes to get them done—the usual whenever she was about to get them done.
But, his expectations are subverted with her short answer and lack of an explanation.
“Okay?” He says, brows pulled together in confusion. “How much is it?”
“Mh—I don’t … I-I think $120?”
“You think? What you stuttering so much for?”
“M-m’not,” she—whines? Not only that, but her eyes almost kind of … roll?
What’s going on?
“You good?” He asks, more confused than concerned.
“Yes … J-just … tell me about your—um … your errands.” The last few words were breathed out in a rush, like she couldn’t hold them in anymore.
He kissed his teeth, his gaze switching to somewhere out of the window. “Haircut was cool, not much to complain about. Y’know, Ray did his thing,” he smiles.
But his smile is quickly wiped away by the reminder of his current predicament. “But, Jahmere in there, arguing with the fucking mechanic about the price.”
“Mhm…”
“I’m tryna get the fuck outta here. Granted … the nigga is overcharging him, I’m not even gon’ lie. Like, I’m telling you, ‘Mani, he charged him odee for some crazy ass shit—“
His brows pull together as her breathing grows heavier—louder—in the mic. He has to do a double-take. Nevertheless, he continues with his story.
“Uh, they been screaming in there for about a hour now. I wasn’t even tryna hear all that, forreal. So,” he rubs a hand down his face. “I came in here—“
“Hh—mhm.”
He blinks. Slowly, Sito turns his head to finally look at the screen. Cimani is nowhere in sight. Instead, he’s staring up at her dark ceiling.
He expects a quick apology, an explanation—even a small joke from her about the oddness of her breathing. Yet, for the next few seconds it’s nothing but silence.
That is, until he hears it.
It’s so quiet, it’s really a miracle that the microphone even picked it up; tiny splishes of water growing, almost drowning out the soft squishes of wet, slippery skin.
He angles his phone away from his face, just so she won’t catch it when he hides his mouth with a closed fist. Because there’s no way…
He presses his lips together, trying to keep a grin at bay. His call had definitely interrupted something.
Slowly, he inhales, trying to settle himself. “So, uh … you sure I’m not bothering you?”
Her exhale is loud, he can tell she had breathed out through her mouth. “Hhm—no.”
“I’m not?”
“No, Sito.”
The frail tremble in her voice does something to him. He inhales deeply.
“Aight, I’ma trust you… When you get your lashes done, get that wispy shit. That’s what you had last time, right?”
“Y-yes—“
A whimper hits his ears.
“Aight, I’ma send you the money.” He licks his lips, looking at the still screen. It takes him less than a minute to send the Apple Cash. “You got it?”
“I-I don’t know.” Her voice is soft, almost whiny.
“Just check,” he begs softly.
She whispers something, but he doesn’t hear it too well. What he does hear is a slopping sound, and he can imagine her fingers, decorated with acrylic, pushing through the mess she’s created. Running through her lips to rub at her sensitive clit.
There’s a soft mewl this time.
“O-okay,” she pants. The camera is jostled around before he finally sees a peek of her bonnet again. “I got it.” Her voice wavered. “Thank you, Sito.”
He bites at his bottom lip, trying to stop himself from grinning any harder.
“You good, Mami.”
Another whimper. He can tell that she’s trying to keep quiet.
“You know you deserve it.”
Again, he hears what she tries so hard to hide: Plap, plap, plap. Like she had just laid three, hard slaps on her pussy.
He swallows, instantly reminded of the dryness in his own throat. There’s a hidden desire for a taste of something wetter. His heart is pounding in his chest.
“Lemme see your nails.”
“S-Sito—“
“Nah, you didn’t even show me when you got back in the car. Lemme see.”
It’s quiet on the other line for a few seconds. There’s no movement.
“Cimani.”
No answer.
He kisses his teeth. “Quit making me ask so many times.”
“Shit … h-hold on—“
There’s some fumbling with the phone before it’s finally picked up. Apprehensive, she lifts a hand to the camera, showing off her brand new nails.
And as Sito looks at the deep blue acrylics, he notes how shiny they look.
Glistening, even.
Wet.
He can’t help the sick chuckle that leaves him. “Oh my fucking God,” he mumbles into his hand.
“D-do you see you it?”
He licks his lips, enjoying too much the desperation in her voice. “Yeah… I like ‘em.”
The hand disappears shortly after, and the screen goes dark. It’s quiet once again. Well … almost quiet.
That soft, creamy sound is picked up by the mic again. He can tell her hand is moving slow. Probably rubbing slow circles against her clit.
“You like them?”
“M-mhm … yeah.”
“Knew you would.” He rubs the knuckle of his thumb into his lower lip as he eyes the screen. “Should’a just listened to me when I first told you to get ‘em.”
He wishes she would show him something. Even if it’s just her face.
“But that’s just you being a brat.”
He can hear her breathing pick up. Another minute of silence passes by.
“Your hair.”
“What about it, Mami?”
The broken sound that leaves her makes his dick jump.
“Wanna s-see it.”
Without another word, he clicks on the light for her to see. In the camera, he bows his head to show off the fresh line up.
“It’s good, right?”
“Mhm.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and that creamy sound seems to get a fraction louder.
“L-looks so good, Pa.”
Her words were a soft moan. He knows she didn’t mean for that to slip. She’s caught up in the moment.
And he doesn’t mind one bit, as he’s got a hand gripping on his dick. A quick glance out of the car window ensures him that there isn’t a soul outside to catch him. It’s not like they would see him anyway, not with his tints.
He sits up in his seat, gripping his phone a bit tighter.
“That’s my name now?”
Her breathing is heavy, even if she tries to hide it. “Fuck … s-sorry—“
“Are you?”
No answer.
Softly, he kisses his teeth with the shake of his head. “Stop playing, ‘Mani.”
“W-what?”
“Stop playing with me, Cimani.”
She’s quiet again.
“Answered my phone call while you playing with your pussy.”
He swears he hears a tiny gasp.
“Least you could do is lemme see it … know it’s mine, anyway.”
“Sito—“
“It was just Pa. What happened?”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Don’t get shy on me. You was just playing with her, all loud in the mic,” he chuckles. “Shit was cute, though, I’ll give you that.”
He doesn’t have a hand in his pants yet, but he’s about two seconds away from doing so. “Put her on camera.”
There’s a bit of shuffling, but it only takes a couple of seconds before he sees her: puffy lips taking up his screen. Freshly done fingers spread her open for him to see pretty, gummy pink walls squeezing in on themselves.
Her cunt dribbles a cloudy, sticky sap.
He shifts in his seat, feeling on himself through his pants. “She always pretty like this?”
She only moans in response. Her clit jumps with another clench.
“Them long ass nails, bet you can’t even play with her right.”
There’s a whimper. “I can’t,“ she whines.
Finally, Sito unzips his jeans, slowly slipping a hand underneath his boxers. “Lemme see how you been playing with her.”
Her middle finger dips into her honey pot, swiping up a dabble of her pearlescent goo. It’s sticky, stringing between the opening of her lips and the pad of her finger.
As he watches, he runs his hand down his length before holding himself at the head.
“She drooling, baby.”
He sees her other hand pulling a leg back. Hand between her legs, her fingers pull together. This resume a gentle flow as they rub against her clit.
Which is so small. In fact, by the looks of it, she can really cover her whole pussy with just a hand. And as far as he remembers, Cimani’s hands aren’t big at all.
He almost coos, watching her work her little cunt until it sputters out a release from overstimulation.
His hand tightens around his dick as the thought of him stretching her out plays in his mind.
“Couldn’t wait to mess up them nails, huh?” he asks. “Them nails I just paid for.”
“I’m sorry—“
“Nah, you cool, baby. It’s cool. Lemme see how you did ya toes.”
He swipes his tongue over his plump bottom lip just as he passes his fist over himself.
The camera is pushed further back, probably leaned up against the bulk of her sheets. It happens so fast, it’s like he blinks and she’s back in the screen—legs pulled back and spread once more.
And just above, on either side of her, her toes are curled rather cutely. The fresh acrylic on them is shaped in perfect squares, every last one of them a gentle pink.
“Fuck,” he whispers, twisting a hand over himself as more blood rushes south.
“W-what else, Pa?”
Oh, that got him. Something about that soft voice and her asking him—he’s high off of this fantasy-come-to-life.
“Keep playing with her,” he says, voice ragged.
She listens, no questions asked. As her fingers swipe back and forth over the swollen bud, pushing through puffy lips, he tries his best to mimick the pace at which she goes, on himself.
“You so pretty, Mami. How many times I gotta tell you that?”
The question is rhetorical, his mouth just running as his body breaks down.
His shoulder twitches, he sinks further in his seat. “Pretty ass lil’ pussy.”
With low eyes, he watches her cunt clamp around nothing every few seconds the longer she goes. Her hips twitch as they begin to roll against the air.
“Bet you if was there, I could give her what she really need.”
“Please,” she whines.
“She deserves some good ass dick, don’t she?”
As her fingers flick over herself faster, his hand, too, speeds up.
“Y-yes—“
“How long it’s been? Hm?”
“I … f-fuck—too long,” she hiccups.
Another broken moan falls from her right as her hand freezes. She’s still for a second, before she lays two quick slaps to her clit.
Soft white globs ooze from her, slipping down the terrain of her lips to the stained sheets below.
“U-uh … ffuck!”
She reaches down to scoop up some of her release, spreading it over herself.
Her lips shine like they’ve been glossed, a tantalizing view.
“Keep going for me,” he mumbles, still working himself.
Despite crying out at the overstimulation, she continues. She just keeps rubbing and rubbing.
“Oh, God,” she mewls. Her pussy clenches tighter. “Mh—Sito,” she warns.
“That ain’t my name.”
“I … I—“
She flutters twice, pink walls pushing out for him to see. Then, crystal clear water trickles from her pussy like a water fountain. Her stream gains a bit of height, even hitting the camera as her body bears down.
He can hear the cushioned pattering of her release against the sheets, like rain hitting a roof.
“Shiiit…” He watches in awe. “She get wet like that?”
A soft, broken moan leaves her as she rides out her high, still rubbing her abused clit until the stream dies down.
When she’s finally done, her soft pants are all picked up by the mic.
“Fuck,” he groans out, a lazy smile on his lips. He’s still got a hand on his dick, having stopped to focus on her.
A gentle silence settles over the call. He looks at the screen. For a moment, everything is still.
She’s so quiet, he starts to question their connection.
“Yo, ‘Mani,” he calls out.
No answer.
As he opens his mouth to call her again, a soft chime sounds.
She hung up.
Dick in hand, Sito feels like a clown as his face morphs into an expression of confused irritation.
“The fuck?”
ᥫ᭡
HER HEAD REMAINS DOWN as the pads of her middle and pointer fingers press into her temple. There’s a faint pulse there.
As her other hand cradles the cup of tea she prepared for herself, she struggles to even lift the cup to her lips.
If it isn’t one thing, it’s the next. Last night’s phone call plays over and over in her mind—the second-hand embarrassment paralyzing.
How, in her right mind, could she ever think to do that?
Yeah, he’d caught her at a bad time, but she could’ve hung up. He even asked.
Why couldn’t she just call him back? What about that felt so thrilling to her that she just had to continue?
He enjoyed it, she’s not stupid enough to ignore that part or even pretend to be oblivious to it.
Actually, it’s not even all that hard to see that where they stand is as a little more than just friends.
But she hadn’t wanted that to change. Not so soon. Not with everything so unsure in her life right now.
Can she even handle a relationship with Sito? She knows she likes him, the crush has been there for a long time. Hovering in the near-distance.
Does he feel the same way, is the question.
As she thinks back on how seamlessly he switched up last night, pulling out the dirty talk with no hesitation, it makes her wonder: is this just lust for him?
How seriously does he take her?
Cimani’s never been one to think of Sito as a slut. In fact, the only reason she’ll ever know of a girl he’s talking to or hooking up with is by accident (or snooping). He doesn’t discuss his sexual or romantic life with her, not since high school, honestly.
She can respect that about him, not being a pillow-talker. At the same time, though, Sito doesn’t ever really talk about much that doesn’t pertain to what’s between them.
Even if she can say that she’s known him for years, she doesn’t know everything about Sito. The vagueness scares her.
A heavy sighs leaves her as she finally raises the cup to her lips. The taste of lemon barely touches her tongue when there’s a knock at her door. She freezes up, staring at the door with widened eyes.
She’s not expecting anyone, she never really does.
More knocking.
Carefully, she sets down her cup. On her way to the door, the knocks grow hastened. When she gets close enough, she even hears the faint sound of one kissing their teeth.
The word “fuck” is mouthed quietly.
“Don’t act like you not there. You know we still share locations.”
She throws her head back with a silent groan and the roll of her eyes. Regaining composure, Cimani takes a deep breath before finally unlocking her door and pulling it open.
It’s like coming face to face with your worst nightmare and your greatest dream at the same time.
“I was ‘bout to say, I know you not gonna make me start yelling for you out here.”
She blinks, trying to make sense of the visual before her; Sito stands with an arm at his side while the other is curled around a big bouquet of flowers.
Pink peonies—her favorite.
He’s beaming, solid gold fronts cover his top and bottom row of teeth. And at his feet are several brown bags of groceries. She stares at them for a while.
The nearest Trader Joe’s is twenty minutes away from her apartment.
She looks back up at him, unable to even process the wide grin on his face.
“Took me like three trips to bring all these bags here. Y’know, I didn’t wanna—“ he pulls the bouquet from the crook of his arm, showing them off. “—crush the flowers.”
She blinks again.
His smile dims a fraction as he looks off to the side. “So … you gonna let me in or…”
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“Okay, ‘Mani—at least take the flowers.” His face falls with possible rejection. “I’ll take the groceries back if you don’t want ‘em—“
“Sito,” she exhales.
He stands at attention, elated to at least hear her voice.
“W-why … what is this?”
His groomed brows furrow.
“What you mean?” He looks around at all the things he’s bought, before finally looking back to her. “I’m just making sure you good.”
•
She helped him unpack in silence—or, the other way around. Neither of them were able to say much.
When they had packed the final bag away, Cimani immediately sprung to her electric kettle, starting it to make him a cup of tea.
It’s already half-past eleven, but she needs to keep busy.
She doesn’t even ask him what kind of tea he wants.
No need. She already knows. Black tea with milk, and two tablespoons of sugar.
As she stirs his cup, he watches her from the other side of her small island. Every single movement she makes, he eyes carefully, studying her.
Her skin feels hot under his stare. Clearing her throat, Cimani slowly passes him the cup. She doesn’t look at him.
“You’ll make me tea, but you won’t say nothing to me.” He scoffs. “C’mon, now.”
Finally, she dares to look him in the eyes.
“Are we gonna talk about—“
“I don’t think last night should’ve happened.”
His face alights with shock, brows raised and mouth open. “Oh?”
Inhaling deeply, her eye contact with him falters. “I-I don’t know why I did that. It was—that was wrong, I shouldn’t have even answered the phone.”
The worlds tumble out of her mouth, clumsy and loose.
“And that was weird, I just—I feel like I crossed a line.” Her face contorts in mild discomfort, her body beginning to fold in on itself. “I’m sorry—“
“Hol’on—wait.” A breathy laughter leaves him as he shakes his head. “‘Mani, you making it seem like you just assaulted me or some shit.”
“I technically did.” She frowns.
“I mean—“ He looks around, trying his best to come with a way to word his thoughts properly. “Did I expect that shit? Hell no. Did I enjoy it?” His gaze locks dead center with hers.
“Sito—“
“Yes.” He even nods for emphasis. “I enjoyed it a lot. Matter fact, only thing I didn’t enjoy was you cutting that call short.”
Her heart skips a beat, but still her frown deepens. “You don’t get it.”
His head jerks back, confusion clear on his face? “Get what, ‘Mani? What else is there to get?” He scoffs. “You wanted to put on a show, and I wanted to watch—“
“Oh my God, shut the fuck up,” she groans, hiding her face in her hands.
She takes yet another deep breath, gathering herself to prepare the worst to come. She already fucked things up this bad, there’s really no going back after this. Not with the kind of person Sito is, he’ll never let this shit go.
“I … I feel like that didn’t mean anything to you.” Her brows pull in together, and she looks as if she confused by her own words. “Like, I get that it was … whatever the fuck it was, but like—ugh!”
His face contorts with hers, trying to follow along with her words.
“I-If you just wanna fuck after this, Sito, that’s not what I want. Okay? I don’t just wanna use you, or you use me, for a quick thing whenever we need to get some pressure off. I’m sorry if I even gave you that impression—“
“Woah, woah, woah. What are you talking about?”
She squints at him. “What do you mean what am I talking about? I think I’m making myself pretty clear.”
“Uh—not really. ‘Cause honestly, you bringing claims to the table I ain’t never even claimed!”
She blinks, her face dropping. “Huh?”
For the first time in a few minutes, he actually cracks a smile. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. You heard what I said.”
Slowly, he rounds the island, forgetting all about the drink she had made him.
“Who the fuck told you I only ever wanted to fuck? I give you that vibe?” He gestures between the two of them, his expression teeters the line between confusion and offense.
“Somebody that just wanna fuck, gon’ get you all that shit I bought? They gon’ buy you groceries a-and get you flowers?” He takes slow steps towards her. “They gonna offer to give you rent money and pay to keep you pretty?”
By the time he chooses to stop, her back is pressed against the countertop. Her only option is to remain there, staring up at the man who only leaves a few inches of space between them.
“Cimani,” he chuckles. “Told you, you just like to hear yourself talk, forreal—I’on know what fucking impression I gave you, but I just wanna see you be put up.”
She can hardly swallow with his admission.
“I’on know how many times I gotta say that. I ain’t tryna see you stressed out for nothing. Not when I know I could make it easier.”
His eyes bounce back and forth between her own.
“Do I need to explain myself anymore?”
Chewing at her bottom lip, she tries her hardest to wrestle her facial expressions under control. So far, it’s not working, because he can see the inklings of a smile on her face.
She shakes her head ‘no.’
Peering down at her, his gaze is focused and intense. There really isn’t much of a smile on his anymore.
“Now that we finally got that shit out the way, I’m tryna finish what you started.”
•
“That’s it … that’s all I need you to do,” he pants. “Just need you to take it.”
Her vision clouds as her eyes roll back, before her eyes squeeze shut. A rough groan rips from her chest.
His dick, wide and thick, stretches her out in more ways than one. As he peers down between them, where they connect, his dick twitches from the sight.
Her lips mare fully stretched around him, as she feebly clenches around him. Her body is filled to the brim—stuffed.
“She hugging me tight, huh?” He laughs, holding her open with one hand. “Tryna figure out what to do with all this dick she getting.”
She clenches at his words, earning another chuckle out of him.
It’s not even like she can respond—tell him to shut up … not that she wants to. Stuffing her big, pouting lips are Sito’s big, ringed fingers. Her tongue laves at them.
The only semblance of a response she gives, is a moan.
“Don’t gotta do no more thinking, right?”
“Mm—mmh,” she groans, the sides of her mouth leaking with spit.
Her eyes flutter, only opening when he begins to drag his dick out of her. Her back was barely able to arch against the countertop, body pressed against the cold, hard surface.
“No more thinking,” he coos. “Not when you got all this—dick in you.”
He slides back in, pushing all of those inches up against her cervix. From the small underside of her stomach that he barely catches, he can see himself pressing against the wall of her stomach.
He repeats: pulling out just to push back in. Every revelation of his dick shows him that he’s covered in her glossy slick.
He’s obsessed.
The hand on her left ass cheek grips the little bit of fat tighter as he starts to pull her back against him. And still, he fucks back.
Wet fingers drag from her leaking mouth, to clutch the chamber of her neck. Each heavy stroke punches a new sound out of her.
“Oh—ffuck! … Aauh,” she shudders as he bounces her against him. Her breathing is tight and shaky.
“Pretty ass lil’ bitch,” he grunts. With each movement, he can feel his tip kiss her spongy walls.
She squeals, somehow tightening around him.
“Don’t know … how I let you think you was some fucking bum.”
She’s getting drunk off of his dick and words. Honestly, she can’t get enough of it.
“Just needed me to come remind you, huh?”
“Ye … yes!” she groans out.
“Needed me … to come straighten you out … w-when you was being a fucking brat—“
His voice wavers only slightly as he uses more power in his hips. She spasms around him.
“Oh—fuck, stop doing that shit,” he pants. “Stop—doing. That—“
The sound their bodies make when they collide gets louder as he fucks into her with more pressure. She can hardly keep up.
The buckle of his B.B. belt scrapes against the floor, his jeans pooled at his ankles.
She’s screaming out, her body inching up against the counter.
The hand around her neck tightens as it pulls her back. Her back curls into an arch as he leans forward to crash his lips against hers.
Their kiss is sloppy, lips sliding off of each other’s. Well, it’s more like he’s kissing her. Her lips are parted, moaning in his mouth, loudly.
The sound of her ass clapping against his dick is louder.
“S-so fucking tight,” he gasps against her mouth. His stomach is clenching.
Both of their bodies are covered in a layer of sweat that makes their brown skin shine.
He can’t get enough of her, going back in for another kiss, even when he feels like he’s going to pass out from not breathing.
When he pulls away, their lips smack. He finally releases her neck as he pulls out.
Her body sags against the counter, her toned legs trembling under her own body weight. As her hands feebly grip the counter’s edge, she peers back at him, looking railed. Her slick back bun is past sweated out, decorated with flyaways and frizz. Even her lips are swollen.
Cimani’s blurred vision, mostly full of tears, tracks to between Sito’s legs. She’s staring at the very thing ruining her, wondering how her friend of almost ten years was carrying all this dick around and she hasn’t even known.
Long, thick, and deep brown, with a left curve as it hangs between his tattooed legs. He is, single-handedly, her demise.
He’s saying something, but she can hardly hear him over her own panting.
“You hear me?”
Slowly, she looks up into his lustful eyes.
“Said I’ma show you something,” he repeats.
Before she can ask, a warm hand grasps her inner thigh of her right leg. The warm touch makes her jolt, she’s sensitive.
Carefully, he lifts. And she’s not too sure where this is going, her brain too exhausted to catch on with ease.
In fact, panic doesn’t set in until her knee is put to rest on the cold countertop, level with her hips. A large, warm hand falls back to the junction of her hip and lifted thigh.
This new stretch, he doesn’t even need to hold her open to see the way her pretty pussy drools. Droplets of her wetness dangle from her slickened heat. The leg she balances on, trembles even more.
“It’s good for you?”
She nods, her head dropped between her hiked shoulders.
“Yeah … already knew that.”
He takes ahold of himself, passing over his dick with ease as the skin is slippery. He comes to hold himself towards the tip.
“Already knew … you could handle that,” he exhales
She shivers, feeling the heat of his wide tip, kiss at her opening. It’s wet, gently passing through her lips. Tickling as it travels to her clit.
Stretched, her cunt flutters at the feeling, missing how deep he was. Lost in a trance, he plays with her, slapping the head of his dick against her clit over and over.
Her back barely arches as she tries to push back against him. Holding his dick to her swollen bud, he drags a tight fist up and down himself.
“Shit…”
Slowly, he pulls back to her sopping cunt.
“Know you could take it… Know you could—”
A sharp gasp inflates her chest, body locking up as his dick slides back in with too much ease.
The stretch is greater this time, a stronger burn. She almost taps out.
“Fuck, she squeezing me,” Sito groans out. His fingers grip the fat of her hip tight. “Know you feel that shit,” he hisses.
Her eyes roll back to the whites, feeling him reach even deeper than previous. Before she can even moan out, her head is pushed to counter, held down as she begins to fuck her again.
“This … all I w-was tr-tryna … give you, Mami.”
Her pussy hugs him extra tight at the mention of that name.
“Just some … good. Dick.” Every sentence is punctuated with a sharp thrust. “And … make sure you taken care of.”
Her mouth opens, but there isn’t a sound leaving it.
As he picks back up to a steady pace, her pussy lets go around him. All of the friction has packs her sticky release into a creamy froth at the base of his dick.
A sharp smack is laid to her asscheek, his heavy hand gripping the little bit of fat immediately after.
She doesn’t even have it in her to jump from the rough hit. Instead, she just flutters around him.
“This lil’ shit drive me crazy,” he slurs. “This lil’ ass booty,” he chuckles, breathlessly.
Every time they meet, spurts of her cum splat against his pelvis.
“You’on even know … how—how many times I—“ He presses his hips right up against her. “—times I wanted to fuck ya lil’ ass up—“
Her gasp cuts him off as he straight rolls his hips, digging his dick into her drooling cunt.
“Si—Sito—“
She tries to reach back. She doesn’t even make contact with him; he keeps her wrist against her lower back.
“I know, Mami, I know.”
Slowly, he comes to a stop, pulling out just a few, thick inches. His other hand reaches down to readjust her leg, which had slipped some from the island. He pushes it up higher.
“I know—”
“Augh—FUUUCK!”
Her voice scratches at her throat.
His shoves back in, hitting her g-spot dead-on. She crumbles against the island, gripping onto its edge with everything left in her.
Her ass jiggles cutely every time his pelvis collides with her, bouncing on him.
“All you gotta do is take it … take this dick, ‘Mani. That’s it.”
He raps a hand around her disheveled bun, yanking her head up.
“Don’t even gotta work for it,” he grunts in her ear.
She can feel it, her pussy creaming all around him. He’s slipping and sliding into her walls effortlessly. Every punch his dick gives to her cervix, knocks the wind out of her.
With how fast her heart is beating, she honestly thinks she’s about the faint.
“Ain’t never gonna make you work for it.”
She’s sniffling, her face a mess of tears.
“‘Long as you don’t give my pussy away.”
She shakes her head, lips parted and eyes squeezed shut.
“No, right?”
“N-no Pap-pa—“
“Huh?”
“No!” She wails out, feeling her standing leg shake under her. “Oooohh—uh! Fuuuck!”
“Yeah,” he smiles wildly, grills undoubtedly shining. “Ain’t no nigga giving it to her like this. Ain’t no nigga that’s—dicking her down like this.”
Following every thrust is a spurt of water, splashing down on the hardwood floor.
“Ain’t no one doing it like Sito, right?”
She cries out, unable to even form words as she twitches around him.
“Gonna stamp my name in this shit,” he swears through gritted teeth.
As sweat drips from his forehead, his braids have even started to frizz up.
All of this pleasure, all of this stimulation makes her toes curl cutely. And he catches it, the square shaped acrylics decorating them.
His hand releases her wrist to hold raised foot. He presses his thumb into the sole, immediately triggering another set of kegels off in her.
The pressure of his thumb to her sole, and his dick against her cervix, drives her body insane. Like a reaction set off by pushing two buttons at the same time, she cums yet again.
The sound of water pouring against wood makes his ears perk up. She almost collapses from the pleasure.
“Pretty ass toes.”
He slows his strokes his focus zeroes in on her foot. She can’t even say that he’s giving her mercy at this moment, as each languid drag of his dick against her spot makes her bawl out.
“Cute ass lil’ feet.”
His dick jumps within her, a recent memory flashing within his head.
“When you put ‘em in the camera,” he huffs. “Right above this pretty ass pussy … damn near nutted.”
She only shudders. Her body spasms around him as he continues massaging her feet. And with that, his pace picks back up again.
“Fuuuck,” he groans out. “You so pretty, Mama.”
Releasing her hair, he lets her fall back to the counter, watching how he fucks her deeply. His control is slipping from him, his thrusts getting sloppier by the second.
“This shit all yours,” he pants. “This sh— … shit all yours—f-forrea—uhh—“
He doesn’t even get to prepare for his orgasm, but his body couldn’t hold back anymore. The first few spurts were buried deep in her walls.
His brain buffers before he regains enough sense to pull out, still nutting as he does so.
Laying his dick between her cheeks, it dribbles out the last few drops of cum, softening as he finishes.
“Shit...”
He stares, lost in a trance as he stares down at the beautiful mess they made. Her brown skin glistens with a sheen of sweat and his cum decorating her pussy and cheeks.
But it isn’t until she whimpers that he’s knocked out of it. She doesn’t even have to say anything.
So tired and spent, Cimani barely even registers when she’s placed on her back, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Her eyes are barely open, but Sito is all that she sees. Everything is so hazy.
He leans down, pressing his chest to hers and he holds her close.
And when he puckers his lips to kiss her, her movement is automatic, immediately kissing him back although weakly.
Their pecks are soft and sweet, almost too sentimental for what just happened.
And that makes her giggle.
He cracks a smile. “What?”
“My feet, Sito? What the fuck?” she slurs with breathless laughter.
He kisses his teeth, hiding his face in her neck. “C’mon, now.”
“I just didn’t expect you to have that big of a foot fetish!”
Her giggles are music to his ears, pulling a tired chuckle out of him.
“I don’t ... s’just you,” he mumbles, uncaring of how feindish he sounds. Pulling his body up to look at her, his eyes run over her face. “You knew that, though.”
She hums, a dreamy smile on her lips. But as they stare at each other, her mouth falls into a gentle pout.
“You nutted in me,” she whines.
He pushes her fly-aways off of her face.
“My fault, Mami,” he says softly.
It doesn’t fail to make her pussy flutter again, the action pushing more of his cum out.
“Said I was gonna stamp it, though.”
Her faux pout lightens.
“I’ll get you the Plan B.”
“Thank you,” she smiles.
Before any of them can say more, the ringtone of Cimani’s phone goes off. They jump up at the sound.
“My phone,” she says, sitting up on her elbows.
Reaching over her, Sito grabs it up from its spot on the island, closer to the opposite side. He hands it over to her, carefully.
For a second, confusion takes over her face as she reads the unknown number.
“Who is it?”
She glances up at him. “I don’t know.”
Nevertheless, she decides to answer anyway.
“H-hello?”
Sito watches with great interest, the focused look on her face—threaded brows pulled together in thought.
“This is her.”
As the call continues, that look bleeds off of her face. It’s replaced with a bright smile.
“Yes, yes—I can come by today.” She sits up more, Sito backing up to give her the space.
“Two?” She looks at him.
Confused, he nods nonetheless.
“Y-yeah, two is good for me.”
“What?” he mouths.
But she only looks away. “Alright … yup, that’s perfect … okay. Okay, bye.”
She pulls the phone away, ending the call.
“Who was that?”
She looks up at him. “That was an apartment locator for that place you found. I-I think things fell through with their first option, so they considered me next. They asked to come by for a tour.”
His brows lift. “You deadass?”
“Yes! Oh my God!”
Throwing her phone down on the counter, she jumps on him, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tight. Luckily his reflexes are quick enough—he catches her before she falls.
“Oh my God!” she squeals.
She pulls back, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Fuck, what time is it?”
Reaching out with one hand, he double taps her screen to get the time—almost one o’clock.
“How fast you think you could shower?” He asks.
“Fast enough.”
His lips curl upward as he gets an idea.
“Shit, I think if we both get in, we could save some time.”
I have been bubbling with excitement as I was sitting on this for some weeks now. I’m just so happy to be able to share with you guys the official cover of my debut novel.
P.S Deciding to assign Camilo and Josephine novel the color purple actually came searching up the symbolism behind the color. Which I realized many of the words that symbolize with purple connected with the story of Josephine & Camilo.
⊹˳⁺ ♡ Big thanks to @/booksnmoods (on Instagram) for creating such a wonderful cover for me that I adore so much. It was such a wonderful experience being able to express what I want and my vision being put on such a wonderful cover. Just made my 1st experience of commissioning my first novel cover such a smooth and exciting ride.
Tropes that will be included in Watchdog, Coming Soon
size difference kink but in the “i grew up being made fun of for being chubby so now the idea of a giant of a man being able to toss me around and tower over me without making my weight a problem makes me really horny” way, you get what im saying?
ᰔᩚ . . . 7.1k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, relationship building, baecation, outside sex, fluff, overstim /multiple orgasms, spanks, oral ꒰ f. ꒱, masturbation, hair pulling, domestication, size difference, daddy kink srry not srry, squirting, intimacyyy, sub / dom, alcohol consumption + heightened pleasure, unprotected, marathon sex lawd, pet names ꒰ baby, angel, girl ꒱, shyness bc toji’s intimidating, rough sex, small asphyxiation kink, dacryphilia, praise, minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!
꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ! ꒱ . . .yall i put my foot into this pls love meeeeeeeeee.
“where the fuck did it go?! toji, oh my god!”
this was the last thing you needed to start off your vacation, being swallowed by a fucking eight-foot snake. while walking through the thick forest of the island the two of you resorted, you and toji decided to start the early afternoon off by gathering fresh fruits and vegetables for brunch. the sunlight barely peeks through the leaves of the large trees surrounding you, providing a cool shade from the hot temperatures. a rustling sound came from above halfway through your search, and low and behold, your eyes came into contact with an enormous viper coiled up in the tree with the damn bananas. your breath immediately catches in your throat as you clutch onto toji’s muscular arm, frightened by the sight. it’s clear you have a phobia he wasn’t aware of.
“if i knew you were afraid of snakes, i would've never agreed to this.”
a tiny screech from you makes the big man beside you invert his lips to keep down a laugh. it’s not funny that you’re scared, but the way you cling to him as if he’s supposed to choke slam the reptile cracks him up. “it’s not going to hurt you, babe. it’s in a tree.”
“how do you know that?! you see how it looked at me? i can’t see where it went.”
“i think it’s just minding it’s business. if it did want to eat you, i don’t blame him.”
your frown deepens as you stare at him. “you’re not funny.”
“i’m just saying you taste good . .”
“don’t make fun of meeee!”
“i swear i’m not. i’m trying to stay vigilant for you.”
just as toji finishes speaking, your gaze falls upon the snake again, your heart skipping a beat as panic finally sets in. you freeze, breath catching in your throat as you stare at the tan reptile in horror.
“t-toji . ." you stammer voice trembling slightly as you reach out to aggressively grab his arm, nails digging into his skin. “it’s there. .” you whisper, your eyes wide with fear as you point towards the creature. “oh my fucking gosh, it's right there!”
your frantic whisper draws toji to immediately react, his reflexes kicking in as he swiftly assesses the situation. the snake is indeed close by, it’s forked tongue flicking in and out as it tracks your movements slithering between branches, nearly camouflaging. without hesitation, toji wraps his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest and shielding you from potential danger. your eyes remain bulged, almost going into a state of shock.
“stay close to me. don't look at it,” he orders firmly, his voice deep and authoritative as he stands between you and the serpent. “let's go back to the villa.”
thankfully, toji managed to lead you back to the villa safely, the fear coursing through your veins such a pain. you hated those goddamn things. you wished they'd all go extinct.
a private villa in riviera nayarit, mexico, was one of the many dream destinations toji was willing to check off your list. surrounded by lush greenery teeming with wildlife and waters as blue as the sky. staying on a cliff top that overlooked the sea, open doors, daybeds on a terrace with a pool. the architecture and decor is stunning. high ceilings and ornate details. when you first arrived, a sense of awe washed over you, feeling like you were daydreaming. the room is filled with natural light, pouring in through the double sliding doors and shining onto the king-sized bed draped in silk sheets and velvet pillows. waves crashing against the shore creating a soothing background melody. it was truly the best gift you’d ever received.
he wouldn’t tell you the total of anything, simply because you didn’t have to worry. he offered to treat you and that’s exactly what he did. you didn’t know how to repay him. you weren’t the best at receiving expensive gifts. of course liking it, but feeling guilty after. he’d reassured you multiple times that he did it out of his own kindness, and because he likes you. a lot, clearly. your heart calmed down the moment you stepped back into the villa, wanting to cook to get your mind off of it. the only excursion he had booked today was an atv ride and a day out in the food market, so there was plenty of time to unwind.
“i need a shower,” he announces, nodding your head as you drop your fruits and veggies basket into the sink to prepare to wash them. toji drops his basketball shorts to the ground, pulling his black tee over his head until he's fully naked.
“i’ll just get started on brunch!”
you’d been craving a chicken cucumber salad, deciding to prepare that for the both of you since you know your diet is going to be shit from constantly eating out. you had to make a few things to keep your guts somewhat in shape. toji watches you in the kitchen, humming softly and bouncing in your spot as you turn your brain off. he couldn’t help but smile, this sight something he wouldn’t mind seeing every day. the weight of his footsteps is visceral, your body taking a screenshot when you feel his dick suddenly press against the curve of your ass, gasping when his arms wrap around you to rock the two of you side by side.
“come shower with me.”
“i, um . .” it's still so new being this intimate with someone who absolutely fucked the daylights out of you only a month ago.
coaxing you into taking this vacation with him to further get to know each other. he's been busy with work, and you've been panicking over picking outfits and being alone with him for an entire week. that night even after the cameras shut off, he fucked you a good two more times before saying his goodbyes the following morning. so since then it’s just been facetime calls or small pop-ups where he'd bring a bouquet of flowers and fruits. even send you dinner when your days are too long and you've worked your ass off to afford the luxury studio you reside in. after everything, he still intimidates you.
your chest begins to burn with anxiousness, gasping again when he lays open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his body practically swallowing yours from the significant size difference. his dick jumps against your backside, and you can’t help but moan from the feeling of his tongue gliding along your sensitive spot. his masculine scent enraptured you.
“i'm hungry.”
“mhm, so am i.”
you giggle lightly. “for food. i want food.”
toji takes the hint and releases you, taking a step back as he recounts the feeling of your erratic heartbeat against his arm. his steel gray eyes rake your body from head to toe before chuckling.
“you gotta week with me, baby. it's your decision to keep your legs closed if you want.”
“that a threat?”
“i didn't say that,” he smirks.
his heavy footsteps hit along the floorboards as he chuckles and makes his way towards the open bathroom. you distract yourself by prepping the ingredients for your meal. slicing cucumbers and red onions into a glass serving bowl. the wooden cutting board you chopped along echoed loudly with each cut, your mind fading to thoughts as you listen to the shower running.
he’s rinsing away any lingering traces of sweat and dirt as he lathered himself in soap, hot water cascading over his built frame. you try your hardest not to watch, the kitchen island you used to chop at your food directly facing the glass shower. his body confines such a large space. your eyes roaming over his broad shoulders and strong arms covered in droplets and dark ink making your mouth go dry involuntarily. shifting in your spot even as you recall the feel of him pressed against you. flashbacks hitting you altogether.
as toji continues to shower, he becomes increasingly aware of your attention on him, catching a peek to see you approaching where he stood. body moving without your say. he finds himself unable to fully repress the sensual pleasure that comes from being observed, dick swelling further as he realizes how intimate the situation has become. he lets out a soft groan, pushing deeper into the stream of water pouring down from above, trying to stay respectful to you.
he knows you've been nervous about having sex with him again, not entirely sure why considering he’s had you in every position imaginable. but he wasn’t one to pressure you into it. if you wanted him, you could take him. he didn’t care. booking this trip wasn’t about that anyways. he wanted to spend time with you and get to know you further because he caught feelings unintentionally fast. things like that usually don’t happen for him, so when it did, he acted quick to show that person that he’s worth having.
“don't just stare, get in here.”
a jolt of arousal flows through your body, hesitating for a moment before deciding to stop being a pussy. using your thumbs, you hook them within the elastic band of your skims shorts to slowly drag down your legs, discarding the matching top along with it. biting your bottom lip, you watch as toji’s eyes sharpen as he glares at you, skin bare, hair flowing beautifully around you in dark curls. the freckles cast along your t-zone and thick, pouty lips he needed in his mouth desperately. taking a step forward, the cold stones beneath your feet make you jump, needing to get closer to the water to feel the heat. the steam envelops you instantly, droplets of water clinging onto your skin like tiny diamonds, nipples hardening under the cool air blowing in from outside.
he goes to grab your face with both of his hands, moaning as he instinctively thrusts his hips forward, a squeak coming from you as his dick nudges against your mound. he groans, dark hair damp along his face, the water beating hard on his back as he bends to your level to aggressively connect your mouth with his. your eyes falter shut, gliding your lips to match his pace, toji pushing you up against the shower wall, the water streaming between where you two meet, kissing hard, almost suffocating as you gulp down the water. his hands are all over you, squeezing at your hips, then your ass to lift you closer so his dick slides between your thighs, brushing your clit.
“let's focus on showering,” you giggle nervously, trying to catch your breath and pull away, but a hand around your throat pulls you back.
“yeah, let's stop pretending.”
you whimper in his mouth as he goes to kiss you again, this time it’s more passionate. rushing his tongue over yours slowly as he grips at your hips, rolling his forward. he goes to take both of your wrists to pin them above your head, locking you still with one hand before he’s lowering his head to suck on your neck. tongue brushing your warm skin and following with hard kisses. the ache between your thighs pursuing, unable to control your hips from rocking, moaning pathetically. toji decides to press his advantage, moving his mouth to your chest where he fondles and puts your tits in his mouth, sucking with a heavy groan.
your body visibly trembles beneath his touch, and it only serves to drive him on further. he releases his mouth, and with one hand gripping your hip firmly, he reaches between your thighs with the other and starts stroking your puffy clit carefully at first, building up speed as he feels how wet you've become, soon slipping in his middle and ring finger to fuck you open.
“goddamn, girl. you’re so tight. and pretty,” he looks down at you pinned against the wall, a mixture of desire and dominance etched onto his face. toji knows that he's taken control of this situation, and he relishes in the power he has over you right now. arching shockingly into his touch, the sensation makes your stomach flutter.
“baby, no f-fair,” you stutter, crying out with your nails digging into his shoulders as you meet each of his powerful strokes with your own eager movements.
“how? you fuckin’ them back,” toji taunts with a smirk, rubbing against that sweet spot that instantly makes your nails dig into the back of his thick thigh. the squelch of your pussy echoes soundly in the area, fingers thick and fucking you good. clenching and keeping them deep within you.
toji brushes his lips over yours, giving you a rough kiss before grunting in your face, forehead against yours. “let me taste your pussy.”
you’ve come this far, so you might as well see it through. you nod your head in approval, trailing your hand up the side of his neck before brushing them through the damp coils of his hair, attempting to lower his face with need. he pulls you close to him by the backs of your thighs, taking a seat on the shower floor, your hand on top of his damp head to lower his face and gazing up at you with lidded eyes. lifting your right leg, he sets your foot on his shoulder, instantly dropping his mouth open to latch onto your throbbing clit as you roughly tug at his scalp.
his heavy tongue sweeps over your cunt with tenacity, jaw widening to suck you entirely into his mouth, your moans vibrating in his ears like broken symphonies. you hold his head still to shift your hips and fuck his face, his salvia mixing with your arousal as he slurps and pulls on your clit with his soft lips, releasing with a pop before he’s raising your thigh higher to sink his tongue into you. lapping up all the juices that have accumulated there due to your arousal. toji’s other hand reaches around to grip your ass cheek, pulling you even closer against him so that there’s no chance of escape.
his large frame takes up most of the space ensuring your safety, unworried of slipping. plus the rocks have pretty good support. he keeps your pussy firmly locked between his lips as he drops a hand to stroke his dick out of aching need, precum dribbling down its length. growling in pleasure, he takes his fingers to stuff back into you briefly, your gasps and whines make his dick jump as he uses your slick to lubricate his dick, gasping from the interaction. you’ve got him ridiculously turned on.
“t-toji, babe—g’na cum. tongue feels s’good,” toji’s throbs within his fist he pumps roughly as he moans into your pussy. you listen to his hand connect wetly with his thighs, whimpering from it all.
“good girl, give it to me,” his deep voice rumbles with fervor, tugging on his hair to anchor him in place so that he doesn't pull away from your cunt too soon. as he pounds into his palm relentlessly, toji’s eyes close tightly as he loses himself in the moment, letting out deep grunts of pleasure with each stroke.
you pant and gasp heavily, cumming in his mouth as he spanks you repeatedly, crying out his name and grinding on his face. body shaking from the intense orgasm he wrung out of you. it happens the same moment toji cums in his palm, groans overlapping yours as ropes of white splurt out and covers his knuckles. the view above him has his thighs tightening, your tits pressed to the glass wall making him stroke the head of his dick with a hiss, leaning his head back against the wall with awe.
“you’re so goddamn pretty,” he murmured with ragged breaths, looking up with half-lidded eyes filled with desire and submission.
𐦍
hours pass after your fun in the shower, both deciding to forget about the brunch you planned to make and getting dressed to head out to explore the community. it began raining pretty heavily, getting a call from the atv company stating that they weren’t allowing people to ride today, and ensuring that you could come tomorrow. you weren’t pressed about it, wanting to have a chill day with him anyways. it’s dark out, but colorful lights are bright as toji leads you through the maze of streets and vendors, pointing out different ranges of food and drinks along the way. you stop at various stands, trying street food and drinks together, sharing laughs and intimate moments amidst the chaos of the busy marketplace.
you reach up to grab on to toji’s arm, pulling yourself closer to his side as you weave through the lively atmosphere. you loved the feeling of being protected by such a big, strong man. especially in such a chaotic environment where anything could happen. you savor every moment of your adventure, soaking up the sights, sounds, and flavors of mexico. you feel like you’re living in a dream, surrounded by toji’s protection and endearment. you don’t know if he caught on to it, quite frankly you were the only person on his mind, but lots of women stared at the two of you with envy and jealousy. women eyeing toji’s muscular frame and towering presence. it makes you feel proud and possessive, knowing that everyone is envious of what you have.
"i love this," you whisper to toji, leaning against him for support as you navigate through the crowd toward your next destination.
he smiles down at you, brushing the side of your face with his big hand before kissing your forehead. the two of you find a nearby restaurant, deciding to sit outside since the weather was nicer after clearing up. he had ordered you a strawberry daiquiri, which you drank in under five minutes, ordering another one while he sipped on his whiskey. the two of you hold hands across the table as you search through the menu, music playing loudly in the background, your body moving in the seat to the beat, the liquor finally catching on to you.
“you’re such a damn lightweight,” toji shakes his head as he chuckles in enjoyment, watching you dance.
shaking your head, you giggle from the tipsy feeling you’re getting, staring lovingly into his eyes as you lean in closer. “they were sooo good though. i kind of want another one.”
“not until after you eat something. you only had churros and elote, sweetheart,” he protests, eyes skimming the menu. stomach leaning toward steak tacos.
“boo, you’re no fun!” you wave him off, attempting to break free from his hold until he’s using his strength to keep your palms interlocked, your body nearly yanking across the table from his strength, persistent on touching you.
toji grins, gently scratching the scar on the side of his mouth with his thumb. "mhm, you won’t be saying that when you’re whining about you being nauseous.”
“but you’ll take care of me, right, daddy,” the punctuation on the pet name had his jaw tightening, chuckling under his breath.
toji studies you, the curly updo you'd done exposing your round face so well, the baby blue of your strapless maxi dress accentuating your curves deliciously. the color radiating on your skin. white sandals on your bubble bath french toes. light makeup, only adding white to your waterline, dark liner on your full lips, and glitter over your matching blue eyeshadow and your body. you're truly his angel. toji rubs his thumb over the zodiac tattoo on your hand, lifting your hand to kiss your skin, smelling your vanilla scent.
“i always take care of you. you know that.”
your heart flutters at the gesture, feeling the blush in your cheeks.
"what? nothin' to say," he teases.
"shut it, i'm thinking," you pout.
"yeah? you thinkin'?" you screech when toji reaches around to grip the leg of your chair, holding on to his bicep while giggling wholeheartedly. he drags you to sit beside him, sliding his hand up the side of your soft face to bring it closer to his own.
"what are you doing," you whisper.
"taking care of you," he rubs the back of your neck soothingly before placing a rough kiss there, practically swallowing your neck.
he repeats on the other side before hovering his lips over yours, steel gray eyes intense before he wetly kisses you, the sound echoing between you two. you moan from the feel, the liquor making the feeling between your legs no better.
"so perfect," he mumbles, giving you one more kiss and pulling away. "you having fun, baby?"
"wha—huh?" you blink, his question coming random. the way he makes you feel is truly indescribable.
"the trip so far. its what you wanted, right? even with me?" it's serious the way he says it, wanting a genuine response.
"oh, yes, mhm hmm. of course i am. i really couldn't be more grateful."
"i know you're grateful, what i want to know is if you enjoy being with me," he clarifies.
his eyes are low as he stares at you as if he's nervous to hear what you say. he's the biggest teddy bear. you smile softly, running your fingers though his dark hair. "yes, toji—i do. love spending time with you a lot. and i think we've been connecting really well. you're really funny, and sexy, also so sweet, protective and all. just everything i want in a man, honestly. i’ve been having the best time here with you."
toji nods graciously. “i'm happy to hear that. you're an amazing woman, extremely beautiful with the biggest personality. and i’ve been enjoying myself as well. i see myself being with you.”
"awe, you're such a cutie patootieee," toji groans as you kiss all over his face with an exaggerated 'muah muah'.
"don't call me that."
"muffin baby? teddy bear? baby boo?"
"nah," he laughs hard, shaking his head.
there was an item on the menu for couples that seemed to be a tourist special. when the waiter came out, there was an assortment of carne asada tacos plated on a heart-shaped wooden board with red roses planted in the middle along with a singular candle. you gasp in awe, squealing as you clap and immediately pull out your phone to document the memory. you glow in happiness, and it makes his heart warm.
you equally enjoy your food, almost moaning after every bite, ordering more drinks, and laughing in each other’s faces. the later it got, the more people arrived, a few couples dancing together within the brick road to sensual tunes. your tummy is full. toji pays the bill before helping you stand from your seat, kissing your face before grabbing a glass of water and forcing you to sip some for balance.
“drink some, don’t argue,” he holds the straw to your pouty lips, not wanting the buzz to lay off. you in fact ordered another daquiri.
huffing, you wrap your lips around the straw, holding onto his arm as you stare up at him past your lashes. toji ignores the rush of heat that pools into his abdomen from the way you look at him, glancing between your tits where your necklace swings as you swallow your water down until the glass is empty.
"gotta pee," you grumble.
"mhm, let's go."
toji secures your hand and walks you to the women’s bathroom, standing outside of the door for your safety and privacy. when your done, toji comes in to wash his hands before the two of you head back out, the area bustling.
"c'mere," toji's voice is hoarse as he pulls you with him to the middle of the street along with the other couples, wrapping an arm around your waist to press you close to his chest while his other sits low on your back.
"you can dance?" you raise your brow, his hands sliding up underneath your arms to entwine your fingers in the air, both arms raised as he chuckles deeply from your stunned face.
“just follow the beat, dance on me.”
deciding to just be in the moment, you begin to roll your hips to the loud thump of the beat, his larger frame tugging you along in circles. toji begins humming and singing in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and making your nipples unexpectedly harden beneath your dress. the alcohol in both of your systems making you equally sensitive. toji loses himself in you and the music, swaying gently.
“when the hell you learn spanish?” you say quietly, caught between embarrassment and arousal as his hands roam over your body sensually, moving closer to him and matching his movements.
“went to trade school in barcelona.”
as he continues to dance with you, toji's hands wander lower, subtly squeezing and massaging your ass over your dress. occasionally, he bites lightly on your neck or earlobe, leaving you gasping, face definitely hot. the sensation of his large palms gripping your ass makes you moan, arching your back slightly, pressing your breasts more firmly against his chest as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the music and the intoxicating closeness of embrace.
it wasn't anything out of the ordinary considering other couples were doing the exact same thing, the sensuality of touches and connection evident. your own hands slide up toji's muscular back tight in his black t-shirt, nails digging lightly into his skin as you cling to him, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck, a soft moan escaping as he nips and kisses the sensitive skin there.
you turn in his arms, grinding your ass back against him, hips swaying seductively to the rhythm. your hands reach back to grab hold of his thighs, pulling him even closer until there's barely any space between you. in that moment, you can feel the hardness of his dick on you, toji groaning in your ear, both of you desperate to leave at this point.
"let's head back."
everything happened so fast. toji called for a car and the two of you tried your absolute hardest not to be obnoxiously inappropriate in the backseat. literally grinding, unnoticeably to the driver, in your seat as he clasps your neck and kissed you, equally intoxicated.
“ima fuck you so bad,” toji grumbles as he kisses behind your ear, his heavy palm keeping your legs closed while he smooths his hand up and down.
you giggle almost helplessly, raving in his infatuation for you, feeling like lovedrunk strangers. the thrill of withholding your passion in the backseat of an uber in a foreign country felt scandalous. a breath of air is released from you once you step into your villa, toji guiding you up the stairs so you don’t slip. the quietness of your home gives you goosebumps, the sober part of you realizing that it really is just the two of you. swallowing, you attempt to lessen your anxiety by distracting your brain.
“ahh, come get meeee!” toji watches darkly as you screech loudly after removing your sandals, rushing out towards the terrace where the infinity pool resided, needing the fresh air since you felt so hot.
taking a seat on the sunlounger, you turn your back to the brooding, intimidating man. heart thumping in your chest from the ominous silence as he approaches you. it felt like a replay of your first time. smiling like an idiot when you smell his cologne, staring ahead at the trees that blow in the warm air, the scent of the ocean comforting. his fingers graze your skin, and you try not to jump from his gruff voice directly by your ear.
“why you runnin’ from me?” toji stands up straight, pressing your back to him, feeling the fabric of his dark jeans on your skin along with the imprint of his dick. your mouth begins to water.
“told you to catch me,” you roll your neck back, whimpering when his hand goes to tighten around your throat, his body leaning over slightly to slide his hand down your chest, pulling down the top of your dress.
you whimper from the air blowing on your skin, perfume flowing and nipples perk. he wants you so damn bad. “nah, be honest, baby. you still nervous?”
you bite your lip from his harsh fondles at your tits, tracing down to your stomach while you heave.
“huh? answer me, ꒰♡꒱.”
“mhm,” you groan, face going hot, not wanting to answer. “it’s stupid.”
“what’s stupid?” now toji’s picking you up so your knees sit on the chair, keeping his chest against your back as he brushes his lips along your collarbone, leaving wet kisses that make you grind your ass back on to him.
“it’s just—” you pause, toji’s lips on your jaw as he pulls your dress up to your stomach, moaning when he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips, snapping the fabric of your panties on your skin.
“just what, keep talkin’ to me,” you try to catch your breath, toji slowly pulling them down to the middle of your thighs just so he can touch your clit, a string of your juices disconnecting from the lace.
he kept his chin on your shoulder, letting you fall back into his hold while he reached to stimulate your clit, rough fingers being as gentle as possible as he rubbed your clit in circles, spreading your legs further, pleasure consuming you. your knees buckle momentarily, your sensitivity shockingly high.
“it’s scary,” you moan, dipping your hips low into his palm, his fingers collecting your slickness by sinking them into you, your hand coming to grip the wrist that’s moving as he slips in and out.
“what’s scary, angel?” as he’s fucking you knuckle deep with two fingers, guiding him as he does it while thrumming your clit with his thumb, you can hear the metal of his belt clink as he unravels the heavy leather.
“y-you—ah,” he goes to tangle his hand within your hair, creating a sturdy grip as he exposes your neck by pushing you down to arch your back.
toji slings his leg over the chair so he’s positioned right behind you, removing his fingers to trail up the side of your thigh and up to your hip where he squeezes then molds the flesh of your ass up to your waist.
“i need a straight answer, ꒰♡꒱.”
your thighs almost clamp shut in surprise from his dick rubbing in between, collecting the wetness within your folds, slowly rocking forward while keeping your head back by your hair. his mouth goes back on your throat, sucking and biting feverishly.
whining from his teasing, you go to close your legs to add pressure to your clit and to feel him better as he rubs your pussy with only his dick. a hard swat on your ass makes you pause, whimpering and grinding back with impatience. toji pulls himself off of you entirely, smacking your ass once again before he’s situating himself underneath you, your thighs on either side of his head with his eyes on yours. he hits you again. tearing the lace panties off from your thighs, too impatient to move you again just to remove them.
“c’mon, come tell daddy,” he’s pushing you to sit on his face, your dainty fingers tangling within the midnight tresses of his hair to snag.
blowing a raspberry, your hips stutter from his brutal kisses along your skin. planting open mouthed kisses along your inner thighs up to the side of your hips, his thick tongue tasting every sensitive part of you, besides the one you really needed him to. both hands coming up to squeeze at your chest as he licks and sucks right above your clit, tongue just barely grazing it. you were only making this harder for the both of you. he would’ve fucked you twenty minutes ago.
“babe,” it’s becoming too much for you, trying to force his face closer to your pussy, needing him desperately. “i just need you. more than i’ve ever needed anyone. it’s so—so different with you. you fuck me so good, and i like you so much it scares me.”
toji stares at you with visible arousal, that turns him on more than you’d ever know. placing his hand on your lower back, you arch forward, tits against the sunlounger and shoving you on his awaiting mouth. your gasp echoes in the night, listening to your slick drip on his tongue mixing his salvia with it as he rushes it along your pulsating clit. you cry, having a deadlock on the top of the chair while falling forward onto his face. his nose is smushed to your tummy, breathing hard as you ride his face drunkenly.
“ooo, shit daddy,” the squeals emitting from you are so cute he can’t help but spank you again, pushing your ass up to mold to your hips again so he can reach every part of your pussy, bouncing his head up and down, grunting in you. “mhmm, i love how you eat it, baby. love it.”
his lips wrap around your clit to suck hard, pulling her free and slurping you up all around, tongue eventually sliding into your warm hole where the sweetness intensified, only making him greedier.
“fuck, angel,” he sputters against your pussy, mouth enclosing repeatedly on your clit while he pushed your ass forward so you can properly fuck his tongue.
you lift your right leg to balance it beside his head, rotating your waist and inching further down on his tongue, eyes squeezing shut with your mouth agape. “toji—yesss. ooh, that’s it baby.”
a hiccup falls from you, whimpering as you grind on his face, feeling your orgasm approach. you push harder against him, encouraging him to go faster and deeper with his thrusts. he’s fucking you with his tongue like he’d fuck you for real. curling and dipping it deep, swallowing all of your cum. with trembling legs, you watch as he wraps his arm around your waist while holding your thigh to the side of his face, slightly sitting up to kiss sloppily at your pussy faster. jaw clenching the wider he dropped his mouth open to taste you, moaning roughly.
your toes curl as you cum in his mouth, unable to speak, only breathe after a few seconds of silent but heavy breathing. you cry out, fisting his black hair and rocking a few more times just to keep feeling his tongue on you.
“fuckin’ good girl,” toji gruffs, smacking your ass again before he's lifting up both of your weights, putting you back on your knees so he can crouch behind you.
he makes you lay fully on your knees, your cheek on the chair with your ass high up. holding on to either side of the furniture, you weakly smile up at him as he removes his jeans, placing one foot up as he comes behind you, kissing up your spine which makes you arch into your knees, shuddering.
“you’re such a crybaby, y’know that?” his buff right arm comes to lock around your neck, kissing your cheek before reaching for his dick, rubbing the tip up and down your slit and finally to both of your praise, sinking into you.
his enormous body looms above you, lowering himself on your ass, straddling your thighs and holding onto the edge of the lounge chair for extra balance. your whines are extremely loud, nails digging into his forearm that chokes you, his heavy dick fucking you deep.
“you’re so damn adorable, i love handling you,” with every thrust he’s grunting by your face, his sharp hips hitting the flesh of your ass, recoiling from every harsh pound. “did all that shit jus’ to tell me you like fuckin’ me. you like being ‘round me. i told you that shit earlier, angel.”
your pussy’s throbbing so badly for him, tiny squeals pouring from you as his thick dick engulfs you, toji fucking you faster the more noises you make. they drive him insane, driving his dick deep, strokes steady but rough. his big body trapping you beneath him, strong muscles encasing you.
“ooo, f—uck baby,” you gasp for air as toji tightens his grip around your neck, your vision going blurry, eyes rolling into the back of your skull from how good he’s fucking you right now. the minor strangulation courses through your body and aims right for your clit, his voice by your ear and his heavy drops making you lose your mind.
your hands claw at the fabric of the sunlounger, gripping onto it tightly as toji fucks you, dick sinking into your pussy over and over again. each thrust sends waves of pleasure rippling through your core, intensifying the sensations already coursing through your veins.
“let daddy know if he’s too rough.”
toji’s voice becomes more primal, his words becoming indiscernible as he focuses solely on driving his dick into your quivering pussy, breathing erratically.
“fuck no, want you rougher,” you grin sheepishly, slurring your words.
you love how rough he is with you, never holding back when he knows you really need it. begging for it will give it to you every time. every slap of skin on skin, every grunt and groan from toji sends another wave of ecstasy crashing through your body again, clenching and pulling on his dick as if he’d let go. toji hisses, releasing his arm from your neck to spank your ass.
“yes baby, yes yesyesyes —agh fuck.”
“yeaaa, that’s it, angel. keep cryin’. dick got you cryin’ so good. fuckin’ love that shit. mmmm.”
your gasps come out like weak shudders, lips quivering as you whine and scream.
“fuck, girl. you’re so fuckin’ needy,” toji is stunned by how sensitive you are. your cries are a surprise, yet he’s turned on. liquor turning you into the neediest girl.
toji bends down to give you his face, draping your arm around the back of his neck to keep his skin on your back, the prickles of heat comforting you. lips melding together in a desperate share of pleasure.
“fuck me more.”
toji manages to let out a chuckle, slipping his dick out to pull you down, laying you flat on your stomach while he hovers behind you.
"takin’ that shit like such a good girl, aren't you?”
he starts to move, his hips driving forward relentlessly, his balls slapping on your thighs with each powerful thrust.
“your dicks s’so big, baby,” you whimper, feeling his girth stretching your pussy wide open, “i can’t . . you’re fucking me deep.”
you bite your lip, trying not to scream too loud.
“unh uh, you was doin’ all that screamin’ before. don’t stop that shit, girl,” toji grits his teeth, rolling his hips faster, each stroke hitting your spot with precision.
the occasional muffled curse words slip out between bitten lips, squirting hard and with every clap of your ass back onto his veiny hips, you cover his abs with your slickness. your legs are shaking, tearing up as you cry and he refuses to let up his rough pivots.
“f-fuck, baby, you’re mine. you’re mine, daddy,” you declare, teary eyes scrolling back into your head from every harsh pound. nobody else can have him, you fucking refuse.
“am i yours?” he teasingly asks, sweat building up on his forehead, abdomen fluttering.
“yes . . you’re mine,” you whisper with a pout, teary eyes scrolling back into your head from every harsh pound.
"i don’t think so, girl,” toji murmurs, his voice disapproving. "doesn’t seem convincing enough.”
“please toji, i’m yours,” you beg, tears streaming down your face as he continues fuck you harder. “yours, baby. yours.”
your voice is barely above a whisper, words punctuated by gasps and moans as he fucks you senseless. you’re completely broken, utterly submissive to his will. toji laughs at your fervent declaration, feeling a sense of control, knowing you’ve completely given yourself to him. mind, body, and fucking soul.
"swear it then," his voice firm.
he pulls out briefly before holding your ass apart to slam back inside with harder force than before, fucking himself deeper time and time again. you’re sucking him in so good he can’t help but throw his head back, adam’s apple strong in his throat as he hums, patting the side of your ass to watch you consistently squirt.
“i swear!” you cried out, your voice breaking as he pounds into you, “i swear ‘m yours! ‘m yourss!”
"good fuckin’ girl," toji rasps, his voice dripping with lust. "now lemme hear you scream that shit.”
“o-ohh god, toji!” you scream, your voice echoing the surrounding area.
"that's right. want the whole fuckin’ villa to hear that pretty ass voice fucked out f’me,” toji growls, his voice low and menacing.
“fuck, toji!” you yell, voice raw and hoarse, entire body trembling harder than it ever has, legs going numb.
you’re close, so fucking close, and you want it—need it, desperately. “tojiiii."
“tell me what you need, angel.”
you arch your ass up to meet his rhythm, eager for more. toji grunts, picking you up to sit himself up on the chair, laying your back to his chest as he scoots down and holds you up by the backs of your thighs. your palms are flat on his chest behind you, tossing your head back as he fucks up into you, your tits bouncing roughly from every hard, greedy, steady pound.
“thank you, thank you.”
your words are punctuated by gasps and moans, toji stretching your pussy open around his girthy shaft. tears stream down your face as you cum for the final time, moaning and grinding your ass down when you notice toji’s getting weaker from rutting in you. his calloused hands are rough on your hips, grinding you back and forth as his eyes scroll back and he cums inside of you, panting heavily and leaning his forehead on your sweaty back.
“fuck me.”
toji kisses your back to soothe you, rubbing your stomach and gently laying you on his chest. he almost wants to laugh that you were drifting off to sleep, kissing your face before lifting you up to get you cleaned and put to bed.
✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who’s willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.
𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!
౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡
you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.
this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old … giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even … but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.
jbbartram-illu
vaporwave
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
izzy806
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
