six: we'll meet again | previous chapter | chapter index
don't they know it's the end of the world?
synopsis: the wasteland is a lawless, lonely place. who can blame a girl when a chance encounter leaves you chasing after a man who dreams of more than just scraping by in a shitty settlement? although there might be something more dangerous than deathclaws roaming around out there...
pairings: vault dweller!Geto x settler!Reader x raider!Sukuna
content: mdni, fluff + angst, mentions of murder, guns, fallout au, basically apocalypse au, heavy (mutual) pining, MATURE THEMES!!, violence (of all kinds really it IS a fallout au lol), ghoul!nanami is here, protective and possessive men, suguru and sukuna are both pathetically down bad, conflicting feelings
"Tell me to pull the trigger."
Okay, maybe this wasn't the sentimental reunion you had imagined in your mind.
Suguru was holding your attention, one hand still on your face, keeping your focus solely on him while his scowl centered on the scene behind you - the open door and the raider passed out on the bed. Sukuna's old gun was in his other hand, carefully aimed at the raider's head, aimed and ready for a single shot.
That was all it would take. Just one bullet in his brain.
"Don't," you breathed.
Reflex. Instinct.
Some stupid voice refusing the idea of Sukuna dying after he'd...taken care of you?
Well, okay, maybe it was more like he held you hostage and kept you as his personal prisoner, minus metal handcuffs, but he did save your life. Cleaned your cut. Carried you somewhere safe. Fed you and let you sleep. Fucked you until you stopped thinking about how badly you wanted him to be someone else.
You couldn't exactly afford to be sentimental in the wasteland.
And still, here you were, reaching up to put your palm over the barrel, knowing Suguru wouldn't shoot without your permission.
"Why?" He asked, his honeyed voice dangerously low, dredging up some strange guilt in the bottom of your stomach.
"They'll hear," you offered a small excuse, wondering if your face made it obvious you just shoved out the first thing you could think of.
He didn't drop the gun to his side, but he lowered it enough that you could breathe a silent sigh of relief, grabbing his forearm and peeking behind him to make sure no one else was stumbling by or sneaking around.
He almost spoke up, but you weren't quite ready to offer any kind of explanation or excuses right here.
"We should leave,” you added, moving your hand to press against his chest instead, trying to push him back so you could figured out the fastest way out without being spotted. "Like, now."
Suguru sighed, lips pressing tight together before he let go of your face. Gave up on whatever retribution or revenge he was about to seek.
"Let's go then," he muttered, stepping back enough that you could follow him in the hall, your fingers trembling a little when you slowly started to shut the door, your eyes betraying you by stealing another glance at Sukuna's passed-out form in the bed.
He looked almost peaceful.
You had the feeling he never got to experience that when he was awake.
And there was that faint little itch again, the phantom tug of knowing you were forgetting something and unable to remember what for a fraction of a second until the door closed and you were staring at peeling paint on wood.
You doubted anyone would come to his room before morning time, not when they all thought he was getting laid, unwilling to run the chance of interrupting their boss while he was balls-deep inside you.
Suguru snagged your hand to tug you along, and you couldn't help but replay the last time you'd been down this hall together, the memory of how the two of you had left things making you grimace.
He had come back for you.
Seemed to know that you weren't with Sukuna of your own free will. But did he really still see you how he used to?
Would he be able to accept who you were? How far you'd go for the sake of survival?
"Through here," Suguru softly murmured, keeping his voice deliberately low.
Your brave vault boy braced himself before using his shoulder to force open a half-rotted door at the end of the hall. It opened into a closet that clearly hadn't been used (or cleaned) in years, but there was a single dirty window on the wall - an open one.
Was that how he snuck in?
Managed to convince the rest of him he was one of them rather than risk getting recognized at the front desk?
Suguru hoisted you up by your waist once you were in, half-pushing you through without hesitation, and to your surprise, someone else was waiting there to help you out.
Nanami's calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you through the rest of the way, the stupid lingerie you were wearing riding humiliatingly high on your hips as your knees hit the ground.
You didn't have the time to think or even be embarrassed about it before he was hurrying to get Suguru out after you, your head whipping around to make sure no wasted raider dipshit was out here smoking or puking from taking too many chems.
But then someone's hand was on your spine, helping you forward and ushering you towards the treeline, heading towards what you were pretty sure was north.
You supposed when it came down to it, it didn't matter all that much - as long as it meant putting distance between you and Sukuna. Away from all the raiders who were apparently intent on capturing you alive like he had.
Neither man spoke while the three of you sprinted, not stopping for a good twenty minutes, maybe more, long enough that Nanami felt safe gesturing for you all to pause. Your throat felt sore, familiar thirst trickling in as Suguru pulled out his canteen and immediately offered you a sip.
You tried to smile at him when you took it, slowly bringing it up to your lips for a small drink, your stomach queasy and churning from running with all that alcohol in your system. Passing it back as you avoided looking both the men who tried to save you directly in the eyes, running your tongue over your chapped lips while you caught your breath.
"We should keep walking," Nanami muttered, but you felt his observant stare on your skin. Studying you. Seeing through your guise of gratefulness to the anxiety underneath. "Can you keep going? Or should I carry you?"
"I could do-"
"I'm okay," you nodded before they could argue over who would exhaust himself the fastest. "I should, um, probably change though."
They both had the decency to turn away from you when you shrugged off your bag and bent over to rummage through it. You hadn't realized you weren't wearing shoes until you saw them in your bag, glancing down to see how scraped up your feet were.
You cringed at the sight of your own dirt-covered scratches, but there wasn't much you could do about it now.
They kept talking while you changed, tugging on a dark t-shirt and shimmying panties up your thighs, your lips pressed together in a grimace at their hushed exchange. Nanami's thick, concerned tone crackling as he addressed Suguru instead of you, "Did you have any trouble?"
"No one suspected me," Suguru exhaled quietly, keeping his voice low too. "But she already knocked him out."
Something about the possessive way he said it made your stomach flutter, an invisible string inside tugged tight and tense as your breath hitched in the middle of taking your pants out of the bag.
"Was it-”
“I think so,” Suguru answered too quickly for too to fully make out what your blond mercenary had asked from him. Face set in a frustrated frown when you stole a small glimpse back at them as you stepped into your pants, pulling them up as fast as you could before bending over to put on your shoes. “Pink hair, right?”
Your ears perked up, molars grinding as you attempted to decipher what the hell they knew about Sukuna. They had to be talking about him, right?
You were pretty fucking sure you’d never met anyone else in the wasteland with pink hair like that.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Nanami grunted back, and you paused pulling out your holster and gun next, palms growing clammy as you considered the possibility that they somehow knew each other.
You couldn't exactly imagine how a meeting between Sukuna and Nanami must have gone, not when they were about as different as you could get.
Nanami might be a mercenary, but he had morals. A strict code that he lived by, not one to rely on stealing or shooting simply to get his way.
Sure, you'd only spent a week with Sukuna, but you knew that the path he must've carved to control a band of raiders was probably stained with blood, tainted by the type of crimes and sins that would rot anyone's soul.
Even if it was in the name of survival.
But then Suguru noticed you had finished getting dressed, clearing his throat right as you glanced between the two men.
Nanami’s deep set scowl and his chiseled cheekbones, lips pressed together in a thin line, all those harsh features only offset by his hazel eyes softening as they settled on you.
The few inches of height Suguru had on him looked more obvious when they were standing next to each other, but he was fast to walk back over to you, picking up your bag from the ground and slinging it over his shoulders as you fixed your thigh holster. Shoving your gun in it as you turned your head to look behind, ears trained to listen for any footsteps, any sign that you were being followed.
They were waiting for you to say something.
Maybe offer an explanation for why you showed up in the skimpiest piece of lingerie that you were pretty sure only prostitutes used.
"Are you still thirsty? Hungry?" Suguru broke the silence, dark eyes focused solely on you with an intensity you were having a hard time meeting.
"I'm really fine," you insisted, biting your tongue as you tried to figure out how much they figured out. "Are the girls-"
"Good. Your parents promised to make sure they're taken care of," Nanami answered, his eyes narrowing as you shifted your stare to the dirt and leaves below your feet.
"We heard on the radio there that they captured you," Suguru said, revealing what you didn't know how to ask.
"Oh," you breathed, a lump forming in your throat at the reminder of your stupidity. "Yeah."
You waited for them to question it.
Ask how the hell you'd let yourself get kidnapped in the first place.
They didn't though.
Suguru just waited for you to finish getting ready, his huge hand slipping around your side, hesitant at first before relaxing, like he wanted to make sure you were really there.
"Come on," he spoke softly, his warm voice close enough to nearly make you shiver. "We should get the fuck out of here."
You weren't about to argue with that.
They were both clearly more exhausted than you, leaves and twigs crunching as you continued north, only the moonlight to guide you as you trailed a few steps behind your old friend.
"We intercepted one of them," Nanami muttered as you trekked ahead, acutely aware of the weight of Suguru's palm on the small of your spine.
You didn't ask if they killed him.
But considering that Suguru was clearly wearing clothes that didn't belong to him, you had a heavy feeling that Nanami might have pulled the trigger.
"I was wondering about your, um, attire," you commented, gesturing towards his disguise. Up close like this, you could tell that it was too tight in a few places, clinging to his shoulders and stretched around his biceps. You guessed vault life let him grow muscles that were far more rare here - where most people were lucky to not be starving at any given second. "Must feel pretty different than your vault suit."
Which you were still quite frankly disappointed you hadn't gotten to see him in.
Did he have one of those jumpsuits in the bottom of his bag somewhere?
Your attempt to make the conversation less awkward, less tense didn't work as well as you hoped it did.
"Yeah," Suguru slowly said, giving you one of those looks of silent concern.
Worried about you when his consideration just made you feel guilty for fucking the man they were convinced abused you for the past week.
How many days had they spent pacing and panicking when you were comfortably sleeping and eating well? Recovering?
Sure, you didn't know what fate would've befallen you if you stayed.
What Sukuna would've done with you when you got to your final destination. For all you knew, you could've ended up executed or sold off into sexual slavery.
But he hadn't hurt you.
No, he tried to take care of you.
And when you had no experience with that before, you didn’t know how to feel about it after the fact.
“How did they catch you?” Nanami grunted in his low drawl not a handful of minutes later, his side profile painfully sharp in the moonlight as he threw a long look over his shoulder at you.
“I was looking for a place to hole up for a few days while I waited for you guys and uh, ran into one of them,” you muttered, skimming over more than a few of the details. Like the part where you gave yourself a head injury trying to squirm free of Sukuna’s grip or how short of a time it took you to let him shove his dick inside you. “Just caught me off guard.”
Suguru might buy it.
But you’d never been good at lying to Nanami. He simply knew you too well to believe that you’d let some idiotic raider capture you without putting up more of a fight.
Still, he only nodded, even if his grimace said enough for him.
The rest of the hike was equally uncomfortable, threading the tension as you tried to not think too hard about the steadying hand on your back, his long fingers pressing into your shirt.
Eventually you stopped just outside a small cave, just deep enough for all of you to set up bed rolls inside, shelter from the wind and any bad weather that might come through overnight.
“I can stay up,” you offered, looking out at the thick tree line, halfway expecting Sukuna to come storming out, brandishing a shotgun and seeking revenge for the stunt you pulled. “You guys kinda look like shit. Get some sleep.”
They didn’t, not really, both still annoyingly attractive despite the dark circles under their eyes.
“You were literally kidnapped,” Suguru frowned from your left.
Somehow, you’d ended up stuck between both their set ups, one on either side of you like they were your bodyguards.
“I still would’ve escaped tonight anyway,” you shrugged, refusing to let them damn you as a damsel.
You didn’t know what sort of fairytales they sold him in his vault.
But you weren’t a princess waiting for him to save you.
No matter how badly you wanted to be.
Pushing Suguru away after he’d held half your thoughts and dreams hostage since you left him felt fucking awful. But you couldn’t fight the fear creeping back in now that he was by your side, the worry that it was really just a matter of time before he wasn’t.
He would go back to his vault sooner or later.
His company was just a temporary fix. A momentary distraction from the rest of your crappy future.
“Just let her take first watch,” Nanami grumbled, burying his annoyance under a thin layer of acceptance.
Suguru didn’t want to agree, but he wanted to argue even less.
"Let's talk more in the morning," he murmured in your ear, leaning in close enough that his lips nearly grazed against your ear. Ghosted just shy over them, his breath on your skin as your head bobbed just slightly.
"About what?" You softly replied, not sure if you were ready for what kind of conversation would be.
“What happened to you.”
You stiffened, swallowing hard as you just offered him another small nod. Forced to once again face the fact you liked him far too much for your own good.
Would whatever this was be over if you told him the truth?
You were okay.
You were here.
Suguru kept repeating both sentences in his own head. Replaying them on a loop even when your skin was brushing against his, when all it would take was rolling over once to touch you and confirm it again and again.
He’d been pretending to be asleep for half a fucking hour.
Counting every rise and fall of his chest as he chewed the inside of his cheek, struggling to get the adrenaline and anxiety to subside enough to doze off into dreams.
But they never came.
And all he could really do was crave your warmth, itching to sit up and reach over to where you were on your bed roll.
"Do you need a doctor?" Nanami soberly asked, speaking so low Suguru almost couldn't make out the question. Probably doing it on purpose. Assumed he'd passed out already.
"No," you huffed, making that cute indignant exhale he hadn't realized how much he missed. "I told you, I'm fine. This is just shallow-"
"Not for that," Nanami curtly cut you off.
There was a thick pause.
And while you were choosing your next words, Suguru was stuck on Nanami's last ones. Denial blocking him from dealing with what was obvious for everyone with eyes. But it wasn't until he started talking again in that grainy hushed tone that he realized this wasn't something he could pretend not to notice.
"Whatever he did," Nanami paused, his voice thick and tense before he continued, "Whatever you might have done, we can take care of it."
"I said I’m fine,” you bluntly said, trying to wield the sharp edge in your words to shut him up.
Nanami thought you had sex with that freak to survive.
He didn’t even want to fucking think about the chance that he forced himself on you.
But he’d have to be an idiot to not see that something had happened.
The way that asshole kept you in his lap like a pet hadn’t left his head since he’d seen it. You had that look in your eyes, some trapped animal searching for a way out, desperation glittering in them as you shifted with discomfort in that little dress.
Treated like a doll, dragged around like one too.
You were the one that played him though.
Pretended to be interested in him enough to make him drop his guard. Suguru supsected you drugged him considering the state you both left him in, but he couldn't confirm it without you.
And you clearly didn't want to talk about it.
Didn't want to divulge the details of what you'd been through without them.
He didn't blame you.
Suguru just wanted to be there for you now. Be someone you could count on. Depend on.
They'd both seen that barely-there scrap of fabric you'd left in. It didn't take much imagination to guess why he wanted you. What you might've had to do if Suguru hadn't been there - even when you swore that you would've made it out on your own.
Nanami said your name, but you only let out a low exhale.
"Don't look at me like that," you defensively murmured.
"Are you going to tell me what actually happened?" He pressed to your obvious displeasure.
Suguru hated it.
Hated this.
Loathed that his brain kept making its own crude suggestions, replaying the scene back at the motel, you sitting on his muscled thighs, the way he eye fucked you when you poured the alcohol in his mouth, how you batted your lashes like he was on your leash instead of the other way around.
"I got attacked by a feral ghoul and he snuck up behind me, okay? He just kept me in a cabin for a few days and took all my stuff so I couldn't go anywhere," you mumbled, and he didn't know what to make of it. What to believe when you were so reluctant to say something so simple.
"Your head-"
"I fell and hit it on a rock trying to get away from him," you said, and Suguru was a little disappointed in himself when it hit him how cute he found the hint of embarrassment in your voice.
How he hardly knew you and still somehow managed to develop a childish crush since you became his companion.
"Did he say anything about why-"
"He didn't say much of anything," you interrupted Nanami again, refusing to let him get a full sentence out as he exhaled, all low and long.
"The raider we captured claimed he's been obsessed with you for months," Nanami dutifully informed you, carefully choosing his words.
Suguru wished he could see your reaction, know what you were thinking instead of being stuck pretending to sleep through your conversation.
"How? It's not like I knew him," you scoffed back at him, and he could imagine the way your nose was scrunching up in confusion, brows knitting together tightly.
"He knew you," Nanami evenly replied, refusing to drop it.
"You say that like you know him," you accused.
Suguru had the distinct feeling he wasn't supposed to be hearing this. That there was something more wrong under the surface.
"I've met him before," Nanami bluntly answered, cold and curt.
"You never-"
"I find it hard to believe a man like that wouldn't just take what he wanted from you," he muttered.
You didn't have anything to say to that.
It was hard to conceive that you could be scared of anything. Anyone. But he couldn't shake the suspicion that you weren't telling them everything.
And the only reason he could come up with was you were worried that they wouldn't take it well.
Nausea curdled in his stomach, mouth twitching as he struggled to shut out how sick the thought made him.
He'd do anything he had to just to make sure you never ended up in that position again.
You didn't need him now.
Didn't need anyone.
But he wanted you to want him anyway.
Whatever that dickhead had done, whatever you had done, it didn't matter.
Suguru didn't pull the trigger on him before. Next time, though, he wouldn't hesitate. And he definitely wouldn't miss.
Sukuna should've known.
You sneaky little minx.
Dressing up and stripping your panties off with the promise of sex just to fucking drug and ditch him.
He stared at the pile of his stuff left on the bed. You even left his gun.
That was just like you.
Too caring for your own good. Too stupid.
You should've stolen it. Taken all his caps, everything he had instead of just leaving it here.
Like he was ever just going to fucking let you go anyway.
It wasn't like you could've gotten that far, not with the early morning sun still filtering in through the cracked window.
He'd catch up to you soon enough. And if he couldn't find you, well, he supposed he'd just have to pay your parents farmhouse another visit.
Those turrets you set up wouldn't do much when he already knew how to disarm them after watching you toy with them so many times.
He wouldn't hurt your family, but he was sure a single letter from them urging you to come home would be enough to get you running back.
Right into his arms.
"What should I tell the rest of them?" Uruame asked, standing dutifully in the doorway while Sukuna glared at the contents on the bed.
Your scent was still clinging to his shirt, an irritating reminder at how close he was to having you.
Sukuna supposed he'd just have to hold you a hell of a lot closer next time.
"I'm going to get her back."
reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated :3
Satoru Gojo has been obsessed with Suguru's older sister - you - since he was old enough to even remember, and it's only gotten worse since he's grown up. Yet you still see him as 'little toru' when nothing on Satoru Gojo is 'little'. Now you're coming off a terrible breakup with your long term boyfriend Hiromi, and visiting Suguru's family for spring break. What better time to try to make you feel better by having you squirt all over his fingers!? But can you really ever fuck your brother's best friend?
pairings - Fratboy! gojo x Sugu's big sis! reader
warnings -reader is 28, he's 22, your ex is Hiromi hehe, masturbation ( m and f) yandere Gojo, fingering, squirting, oral sex (m receiving) tons of tension, a teeny bit cracked out, Toru is shameless - no one in Sugu's fam is safe from this man
wc-6.4k - NGL it's prob gonna have a pt 2 and maybe 3 lol
art creds here!
Satoru Gojo has been obsessed with you for as long as he can remember – his best friend Suguru’s older sister, watching you right now as you’re by the side of the pool. Suguru hops in and splashes you, making you jump up, your pretty tits bouncing as if to fucking torture him even further.
You’re sweet – achingly sweet, but you don’t look at him that way. You smile all cute like he’s a kid when he’s six-foot-four and you have to look up at him, since you’re six years older than Suguru and him, that’s just how you see him. Satoru thought when he graduated college surely you’d notice he’s a man now, but you treat him the same as ever.
“Little Toru!”
What the fuck on Gojo was little!?
His cock throbs underneath his swim trunks as those drops of water slip down your pretty tits, the sun glimmering off your skin. You came back to visit for the summer with your family, even though you’re twenty-eight you still come to spend time with the family, and Satoru makes sure he’s there too.
You had a nasty break up with your boyfriend, this damn lawyer you used to bring around at Christmas and Thanksgiving, Satoru cheered right in the middle of fisting his cock when he got your text. You all were close after all, he loved to make you feel better in any way he can, put a smile on your pretty face, though he’d love much more to make you fucking drool.
“You got all my sunblock off!” You huff and Suguru sticks his tongue out, your parents are in there with him along with all your annoying little cousins that visit, you’re so cute with them he can’t help but wonder how good of a mom you’d be.
Well, he’d make you one some day.
“I got you sweets,” Satoru walks over and you smile at him, trying your best not to eye fuck your little brother’s best friend – but fuck were his shoulders broader, was he more cut, what the fuck was he eating? He’s impossibly tall these fucking days like he got another inch.
Ovulating around twenty two year old Satoru after a breakup with Hiromi was fucking horrible. You clear your throat and hand him the bottle, you can ignore how his blue eyes flicker across your tits in your bikini, can’t you? Satoru had some cute crush on you, you weren’t immune to it, but he’s too fucking young for you.
“Thanks little Toru,” he laughs softly, sitting behind you and squeezing the sunblock into his palm, gliding it down your back slowly, watching the white lotion meld into your skin, wishing it was something else entirely.
“Little Toru huh,” his voice is soft behind you as his huge hands work across your skin, fingers drifting across your skin and making your lashes flutter shut for a moment, you lean right into the touch as his lips brush near your ear. “What on me is little?”
“I um…” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your parents and Suguru and children are in the damn pool and you’re over here pressing your thighs together, feeling your cunt throb and ache.
“You always called me that,” he chuckles a bit, huge body pressing up against you, casting a shadow as his fingers work the lotion into your shoulders thoroughly, his touch sinfully good. “Do you need more on you?”
“Y-yes please,” you damn near arch with him on your lounge chair, his thighs spread wide, gliding it down your arms.
“You didn’t answer me,” his huge hands take over your arms as they glide them all down your skin. “What’s little?”
You look back at Satoru, biting your lower lip. How fucking mad would Suguru be if you fucked his best friend!?
You can’t go fucking doing that.
Right?
No!?!?
Just because Hiromi hurt you doesn’t mean you can suddenly go and act on impulse, thinking with your pussy rather than any sort of brain cells. It’s simply that you’re comfortable with him, that he’s gorgeous, that for the past few years the way he looks at you makes you feel so pretty – how he talks to you all low and soft, teasing with his big smile.
It’s just that, and the fact that his body is hard, that his skin is hot – his perfect form is present right behind you. You’re fine, just remember it’s friendly, he’s just teasing you like he does. You can’t look at ‘little toru’ who just so happens to be six-foot-four and getting thicker in the chest every time you see him – how does he keep getting more fucking muscles?
Was football really doing all of this?
“I um… just call you that,” you murmur softly, breath caught in your chest, heart hammering so quickly you’re dizzy, especially with the heat radiating down against your skin, his hands brushing more lotion, pausing at your mid back.
“Move your hair to the side, it’s drippin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs lazily, you bite your lip so hard it leaves little teeth marks, pulling your hair to the side and smiling over your shoulder at him.
“There,” you murmur, eyes locked with his.
Fuck you’re pretty.
God he wants to drag you right on his goddamn lap, slide his cock to the hilt – he bets you’re so fucking tight, but he also bets you’re so wet you could just take him. When his hands slide up the curve of your spine, you can hardly stop your cunt from dripping down the damn lounge chair, his hands rubbing all that cream into your skin ever so thoroughly.
“Then why do you call me that, huh sweetheart?” He asks now, you sigh, glaring back at him just a bit. “I’m way fucking bigger than I was when you met me.”
“Well yeah, you were like a kid, Toru.”
“Now I’m way bigger than you, hmm?” His tone echoes in your ears – way bigger… you already know the sheer size of Satoru Gojo, but to think of just how big he is makes your cunt pulse.
“Ahem…” You clear your throat now, rushing up and laughing nervously, ignoring the evident bulge in his light blue swim trunks. “I’m gonna get in!”
“With your sunblock on?” He teases, you can’t answer him – can’t even look at him, no you hop right into the cold chill of the pool, trying to cool your ovulating ovaries the fuck down.
*****
It’s hard to be around you.
Literally hard.
Satoru finds himself heading into the house while you and the family are still splashing around in the pool – he certainly can’t just palm his cock when the whole family is around. He had to rush off into the damn bathroom, shutting the door behind himself, leaking so much pre he’s sticking to his trunks.
"Mnh," Satoru can’t help but tug at his drawstring, those trunks still dripping wet with the faint scent of chlorine clinging to them, he shoves the waistband down, cock springing free, slapping his flat belly button. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
Was there a better word for what you do to him? Satoru’s barely biting back a moan, wrapping his hand around that thick base of his shaft, sucking in a breath, he usually has a little more fucking self control but he doesn’t right now. Not when he got to smooth that white cream against your skin and watch it melt into it, fuck imagining rubbing his cum all over your body instead has him pulsing.
Imagine every inch of you covered in him – he’s gone truly psychotic, wanting to fucking mark you like you’re his, he was tired of seeing you with that dumb fucking lawyer. What did you need him for when you could have Satoru? What, because he’s in his thirties, Satoru Gojo was fucking filthy rich, and he’d make sure you never had to lift a pretty little finger.
“I’ll take care of you – hah, b-baby,” he’s whining out, eyelashes fluttering shut, picturing you vividly.
The way those water droplets were glistening on your skin, how your pretty tits bounced when you hopped up and Suguru splashed you. How the little bikini showed beauty marks on your tummy, a couple lines on your hips where they’ve spread just a bit since you were his age – all to spread to have his baby, he’s so sure of it.
Breedable fucking hips that he’d love to hold in his big hands, arching your back for him all pretty like a good girl – he could practically hear the moans that you’d give, they’d be much louder than the soft little sounds you made when he touched your back earlier. He can’t help but want to hear it, hear how fucking loud you get, would your sounds get all muffled as he pressed your head into the mattress?
He’s been jerking it to you since he found out what his cock even did, back when it was honestly terrible to do so, but he has no sense of guilt when it comes to you. Watching you, stealing those panties, practicing just what he’ll say as he fucks his fist devotedly to any picture he’s snuck of you, fuck he took photos from your goddamn family album he was so pathetic.
“Stop teasin’ me sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his cock, slowly at first to just savor the feeling of his precum smearing his reddened tip – all drooly already. He spits right down on his cock, a long trail of gossamer saliva swirling down, using it as lube while picturing how wet you’d get.
He bets you were wet with his hands running across your skin, he could feel heat that couldn’t just be from the sun, surely it was not the rays shining and warming you, it was Satoru’s nearness. He ached to taste the sun right off your skin, your cunt tasted so good on your panties, surely it would taste even better right from the source.
He starts to stroke his cock faster, fucking desperately, imagining your much smaller hand instead of his. You probably couldn’t even wrap those fingers around his girth, you’d have trouble taking him, tummy would just bulge as he moves in and out of your hole. He whimpers at that vision, imagining you looking at him with need, with hearts in your eyes.
Anything but that fucking sweet ‘big sis’ affection.
"Little Toru," he mumbles under his breath, a little laugh escaping him as he strokes his nine inches that would ruin your cunt for anyone else. “Fuck, sweetheart, you really have no idea, do you?"
Satoru’s strokes became more erratic as he imagined lifting your pretty ass up, bending you over the poolside, pulling that bikini aside and finally showing you exactly how ‘little’ he was. Fuck would you scream out Toru when he busted his load inside? When he filled you with all those creampies you deserved and he fingered it inside so it took?
It starts to feel too good, he’s so sensitive he’s leaning against the bathroom counter, groaning out, right about to cum when he hears it.
Someone jiggling the handle.
“I’m… hah, in here,” he manages to bite out, freezing when he hears your voice on the other side of the door.
“Toru I really am freezing, can I just come in real fast to grab a towel? I won’t look or anything,” you’re shivering, water dripping on your parents floor. “All the other bathrooms are taken by the kids and Suguru even stole the one in my old bedroom.”
“Oh… ah…” Your voice is making him pulse, he’s stroking faster, laughing just a bit.
“Are you laughing!? I’m freezing you little brat!”
“Brat, hah – you’re the brat baby,” you blush on the other side of the door, jiggling the handle again. “So eager to see my dick?”
“Oh you’re ridiculous – like I haven’t seen all you have before.”
“That was years ago, I’ve changed,” he murmurs, biting back a whimper unsuccessfully. “Not little Toru anymore.”
“Will you hurry up then? I am so fucking cold, ugh,” you’re shivering in your soaked towel – all the splashing got it so bad it’s fucking useless. “Satoru Gojo!”
“Fuck, fuck just… one sec, you’re impatient,” he strokes his thick cock one more time, whimpering out when his white ropes start spilling on the sink, his eyelashes fluttering, cheeks all flushed in his reflection.
“What the fuck are you doing in there? Did you hurt yourself or something!?”
“Hah… no…” He’s moaning now, the relief felt from his balls not being so goddamn tight and full of cum, he quickly starts wiping down the marble counters littered with his milky strings. “Hold on, okay? Fuck…”
“Fine,” you cross your arms, trembling like crazy, Satoru hastily opens the door after he tugs his swim trunks on, opening it and forcing you to look up at him, so damn tall you’re right there with his chest.
Little Toru indeed.
He’s a giant now.
“Finally,” you mumble, he leans one of those long ass arms over and grabs a dry towel, wrapping it around you and taking the wet one, hanging it up. “Oh thank you.”
“Made ya wait that long, can at least dry you up,” he murmurs, wrapping you even tighter, hands massaging the terry cloth covered arms that are covered in goosebumps. Your breath catches, looking up at him, far too close, you can feel that heat just radiating off his skin. “There, any better?”
“Um yeah, I’m sorry I was so impatient,” you mumble nervously, looking down and seeing the way his abs tense as he breathes, further down to the slutty little happy trail he has.
That’s when you pause.
Is that… is that… cum!? On his fucking belly button!? Is that his tip peaking-
“Satoru!” He blinks curiously as you push at him, his hands still firm on your shoulders.
“What, are you on your period? Acting all moody one minute, sweet the next.”
“You can’t ask me that!? Were you…” You lean close, whispering. “Jerking off, really?”
He smirks.
“I had to freeze so you could finish? Couldn’t you wait till you’re back in the room to do that?”
“Aw, did you wanna watch, sweetheart?” He asks, tilting your chin up, his lids getting lazy over those curved up blue eyes of his. You swallow then, your throat dry from his fingers caressing your jaw. “I would have let you if I knew.”
“Of course I didn’t…” You can’t even speak, not when you’re looking at his abs again, he leans back and laughs a bit.
“Ah, didn’t tug them up enough,” he hides what looks like a pretty blush tip, smiling like he’s fucking embarassed, he is flushed but it’s for an entirely different reason. “Is that better, sweetheart?”
“It’s… on you, god,” it’s your turn to blush, he hums a bit, stepping back lazily to drag his fingers across his own cum, putting them to his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks his own release off them.
Oh fuck.
You swallow nervously, the sight of it is utterly filthy, his hum as if he tastes so sweet, fluffy lashes fluttering. “Mmm, I guess I missed a spot when I cleaned up. My bad.”
“Your bad!? You’re such a…” you trail off now, you’re aching and he looks too fucking good, psychotic ass blue eyes all lit up as they study you. You can't even finish the sentence, your face burning with a blush that has nothing to do with the sun you took in.
"I'm such a what?" he presses closer to you, until your back is against the door, it closes behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the little guest bathroom.
“Such a…” you clear your throat, feeling him against you, you should pinch his ear or smack him in the back of the head like you did when he was younger – but you can’t even move.
He's all warm against you, the sticky remnants of his own release splayed across that pale skin, a hand on the wall beside you. The way he’s looking at you and his sheer proximity are doing things to you that you absolutely refuse to acknowledge.
“Such a pervert,” you glare and he chuckles, cupping your face with a hand now – that’s not how a twenty two year old frat boy should look down at you, should act, with his arm fucking raised and the little thatch of hair still damp underneath them. His silky locks are falling in slick little strands across his brow. “A total pervert.”
“Me? No, sweetheart,” he smirks down at you like the little shit he is. "I’m just taking care of a problem you caused."
"I caused it!?" you squeak out the words almost embarassing, pushing at his chest half heartedly – he’s so built and muscular it’s like pushing against a brick wall, his heart thudding under your palm. You barely manage a glare. "How is any of this ridiculous behavior my fault?"
He catches your wrists in one of his big hands, thumb brushing over the delicate network of veins, right over your frantic pulse. “How is it your fault?”
“Yes, you psycho.”
“You exist," his words confuse the fuck out of you then, breaths faster until your tits are rising and falling in the top just a bit too small, his gaze drops to it when your towel hopelessly falls. He exhales and traces his hand over the curve of your tit, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches. “That’s how it’s your fault.”
‘B-because I exist?” You whisper, shaking your head now. “You’re just fucking with me, what does that even mean?”
"You wore that bikini,” he murmurs, a thigh coming between yours, instead of tugging away you shamelessly arch your hips, earning his soft little exhale. “You let me put sunscreen on you, didn’t you? Let me touch your skin, while you’re fucking looking like that." His eyes – those impossibly fucking bright blue eyes – drag down your body, like he’s touching you
“That makes no sense, you’ve always seen me in swimsuits, Satoru. You may have had some little crush when you were younger, but you’re an adult.”
“And so the fuck are you, a whole woman, hmm?” He whispers, you hate how good it makes you feel. “Fuck you must be ovulating, swear I can smell it.”
“You cannot freak!?” You shove again, but your hips move, heat emanating even from your soaked bikini bottoms, the scent of chlorine mixing with the sweetness of his breath, the musk of that slight sweat underneath his arms.
“Bet your body wants a baby in her,” he smirks, his hips dragging you down on his thigh, a trail of slick glittering on it. You whine out, biting your lip and shaking your head. "What did you expect to happen, you lookin’ like that, after that man was dumb enough to leave you?"
"I expected you to act like a normal person, even if y-you somehow think I’m hot or something, you can’t just… act like this, all psychotic. What do you mean babies inside me!?”
“Oh you don’t wanna be bred?” You almost whimper goddamn this little brat.
“You’re a little fratboy.”
“A little fratboy?” He repeats, you bite down on your lower lip and nod. “You want me to act normal, huh?”
“Y-yes go back too… whatever it was um… before. Go fuck your little frat girls at your parties, girls your age," your voice is weak, breathless and fucking pathetic – you hate whatever the hell was happening, the fact that you’re aching for him to do just that – pump cum right inside you.
"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs softly, leaning in and letting his lips hover until they’re almost touching yours. "I haven't been normal about you since I was twelve years old."
“That’s insane,” you hiss, shaking your head again, his thigh pressing up and you feel your body respond, his hands tugging at your waist, thumbs right underneath the swells of your breasts.
"You really have no fucking clue, do you?"
Your heart is hammering in your chest as you drink him in, half naked and still glimmering with the pool water.
This is Satoru.
Annoying, bratty, little Toru – who used to follow you around like a lost puppy, then grew to just annoy the ever loving shit out of you. Suguru’s best friend who has spent more time with your parents than you have in the past ten years – he’s ‘Toru’ and that’s that.
Right?
He can’t be the man who sucks cum off his fingers.
You should push him away – walk out and lock yourself in your room for the entirety of the rest of your stay, you should do anything but let his lips brush the corner of your lips, do anything but whimper. Anything but moan softly when he tugs down your top, groaning at the sight of one of your pretty tits bare, with the faint lines the sun left on your skin.
“Oh my fuck,” he whispers, he didn’t know you’d be that fucking beautiful, he had snuck so many glimpses but to see that pretty nipple in person? “Look at you.”
“I… we… even if you’re not Suguru’s best friend, even if you weren’t six years younger – I literally just broke up with-”
“A dumb fuck?” You glare at him. “He’s stupid to ever leave you.
“You don’t know him, and… even if we um… did something-”
“What!?”
You sigh, shaking your head. “Satoru-”
“You wanna do something!? With me!?” You snort a bit at how suddenly cute he is, before he gathers himself, hand trailing down your tummy, it trembles underneath the surprising roughness of his fingertips. “Want me to make you cum, pretty?”
“Fuck,” where’d he learn to talk like this!? Hiromi could eat pussy – and that man could fuck, but something about Satoru’s utter desperation and devotion had you gushing and pulsing around nothing. “I… you can… can you…”
“Can I make you cum?” He chuckles, finding your elastic, slipping his fingers underneath so his finger grazes your clit, your hips buck at it, whining out weakly. “Yeah, sweetheart, I can make you cum until you’re squirting right on this fucking floor.”
“J-just… fuck, just…” You should push him off – but instead, you find yourself shoving his hand down further, eyes fluttering shut, your head back ever so slightly against the door. “There, my clit, please… please, fuck…”
It’s happening.
Satoru’s dreamt of this moment since he even knew somewhat was a pussy was, and yours was soaking goddamn wet, so messy it’s loud, echoing in the bathroom, he swirls it in little circles as you rock your hips, still straddling one of his thighs. He pulls it back and picks you up, making you gasp, sitting you right on the sink and tugging your bottoms to the side.
“Toru, I…”
“Fuck yes, god call me that,” if he hadn’t already jerked off – he’d be cummin’ again just eyeing your needy, puffy cunt. “Fuckin’ perfect lil cunt, god, just look at you, soaked.”
Your lashes flutter shut, expecting a finger and then shocked when you feel a glob of saliva right on your needy clit. “Ah!”
“Mmm,” he’s humming, spreading his own spit around, smirking at the sight of his bubbly, gossamer saliva coating your cunt. “Perfect just like that… Do you need them inside? Bet yours couldn’t hit.”
“Shut it, Toru,” you’re yanking on his wrist, making him moan with how you take over, he’s used to girls just a little too shy, not that it was a bad thing – but you knew what you wanted, grabbing his fingers and sucking them.
“Oh my… f-fuckk…” He almost does cum watching your cheeks hollow, seeing you suck him down to the knuckle, your pretty pussy just drippin’ right down the counter as you arch your hips more.
“Hurry b-before they notice,” you whisper desperately now, guiding his hand down to your needy hole, whining out softly. “Two, put two in, please.”
“Sure you can take it?” You just nod eagerly, he swirls them and then buries them to the fucking hilt inside, you have to smack a hand on your mouth, drool spilling across your palm as he starts easing them in and out. “Fuck, took em s’good just f’me, huh? Just like that, needy lil cunt wants me.”
“Sh-shh,” is all you manage to mumble, lifting your hand and yanking him down, hand entangled in his silky hair. “Once, just once and… we can’t…”
Hah, as if Satoru would just touch you once, when he’s rocking his fingers up and down, making a squelching fucking mess, your eyes roll back in your skull as he works them faster, until the clicking is just echoing obscenely. “Once, huh?”
“You finger me, I’ll s-suck you.”
“Slutty girl,” you can’t stand how he says that, how his long digits press on your puffy lil cervix, barely able to formulate a fucking thought as he works you so much you’re desperately trying to get a breath. “That’s it, gonna cum that easy? Just f’me, hmm? All me?”
You can’t answer, so you drag him down for a kiss – and that’s when you lose it, kissing Satoru wasn’t normal – not the way he moans like a little slut, desperately taking over your mouth. His hands dragging every bit of slick from your cunt as impossibly more comes down his thick fucking fingers.
“God,” he whispers, hardly able to catch his breath. “You’re so tight, fuck…”
“Mnh,” you can hardly manage to speak, think of anything but how good it feels, his fingers going even faster now. “So much… too much I…”
“You can take them baby,” he whispers – in a way ‘little toru’ sure the fuck shouldn’t, his eyes black with their blown out pupils, kissing down the side of your jaw and curving his fingers right up against that soft spot on your front wall. “Look, you’re doin’ s’good already.”
“Ngh,” you’re so goddamn close, your head falling back for him to work you quicker. “Gonna cum… gonna…”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Fuck,” you hiss the words, but Satoru doesn’t pull his fingers back, he moves them slower, to edge you, to torture you.
Isn’t it what you’ve done all these years?
“Act normal,” he murmurs, lips brushing your earlobe, sharp teeth nicking it as he eases his fingers out, rubbing your clit back and forth so quickly you’re about to scream out loud. “If you wanna cum, you’ll just act like I’m not here.”
“H-hey, yes?” You barely manage to squeak out, Satoru smiles against your neck, pinching your clit and making you bite down hard on his bare shoulder, leaving glittery teeth marks.
“Sis, we’re about to grill out – I can’t find Satoru,” you found him all right – he’s tugging your hair at the roots so you look at him as he’s about to make you squirt all over. “Have you seen him?”
“Hah I d-did,” fuck, he’s rocking them faster, smirking cruelly at your plight. “I saw him um… upstairs dancing to some t swift.”
“You brat,” he hisses in your ear, Suguru chuckles.
“Yeah, sounds like him.”
It’s not even!?
Satoru shoves his fingers in against that cervix and makes you whine out, grinning all evil as you glare at him. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing, Sugu! Um… I’m getting freshened up, then I’ll meet you guys outside, okay?” You bite back a moan when Satoru’s kissing your neck, tongue lapping up a little vein underneath your skin he traces, free hand plucking your nipple and twisting it. The dual stimulation is too fucking much.
“No worries, sis, I’ll throw some chicken breast on there for you,” now you feel guilty – great!
“Thanks Sugu, you’re the best,” you murmur, he’s walking away now, leaving this psycho who’s fingering you faster. “I’m gonna… cum, fuck, fuck…”
“Aww you’re easy f’me,” he whispers, eyeing you as you’re about to fall apart, fingers shoved right back inside your needy hole. “I’ll make you forget him, forget anyone but me.”
“Psycho, what!? Just… ah!” He slams a big hand over your mouth, chuckling dark and fucking sadistic as he makes you squirt all over, it’s spraying against his hand and even hits his tummy, making him moan.
“God, look at that,” he’s pulling those fingers out of your pulsing walls in wonder, peering at the mess you made. “You’ve got me covered, sweetheart, you’ve got such a slutty lil pussy.”
“Fuck…” You’re so weak, when you hop off and shove him against the wall, kneeling and tugging at his waist band.
“Oh my god…” THIS IS HAPPENING.
The girl of his dreams is on her knees, her squirt all on his fingers, he’s sucking it off them as he grips your hair, letting out a desperate whine when you kitten lick his drooly tip.
“You’re already hard again for me?” Your whisper is diabolical, he barely manages a fucking word – all his braincells gone when you stroke his cock, sucking his tip and swirling the flat of your tongue.
Oh you’re a pro at sucking cock – and he’s mad about it.
“Wish you never had one but mine in your m-mouth,” he’s huffing, pressing on the back of your neck so you take impossibly more of him in your mouth, fucking into your throat needy and desperate. “Do you have n-no gag reflex!?”
“Hmm,” you’d smile if your throat wasn’t blissfully full of his pretty cock – you’d feel bad about that later, not right now, when your fingers are pumping inside your quivering hole, still sensitive from him. When his fingers tighten in your hair, bucking his hips and whimpering out
“Can you take all of it, huh? Doubt you can – oh my f-fuckkk.” You suck him deeper before he can think, your nose brushing against the soft white hairs nestled at his base as you look right up at him. “Oh my… fuck your throat it’s so goddamn slutty… mnh…”
Satoru’s supposed to make you whimper, not the other way around, but how can he do anything other than stutter, bucking them so that he slips his tip right past your uvula, you have tears in your eyes, sniffling a bit, but aside from that you’re bobbing your damn head. He can’t even imagine that lawyer got this, got you sucking him so deep and choking on his cock and left that shit.
Your eyes are so pretty he’s stunned, he dreamt of them looking up at him like this but really nothing could prepare him for what it’s like to have the girl he’s jerked off to forever taking him in between her lips.
"Fuck, your mouth... god, your mouth is better than I ever..." he trails off into a strangled little slutty moan, those pink lips parted as you pull back.
You have strings of saliva and drool just dissolving, he can hear your messy little pussy as you shamelessly overstimulate it, sucking him till he’s dizzy. “Mmm, you like it, huh? You’re so wet for me, Toru.”
“Oh fuck you,” you giggle and he almost laughs – but it turns into a choked little moan, you’re swirling your tongue around the sensitive ridge of his tip, tonguing that slit where all his pearly cum is slipping. “God, your fucking mouth.”
“Mhm,” you murmur, before plunging down again, slurping him the fuck down as you look up at him through your lashes.
The sight almost makes him lose it right there, busting from less than two minutes of your pretty lips stretched around him, the sight of your pretty tears at the corner of your eyes the only tell that it took effort stuffing his cock in your throat. Tight, needy throat that reflexively swallows around him as he cups your face to hold it in place, fucking your face harder.
“Gotta finger your cunt again? Needy, messy lil slut – all f’me, isn’t it?” You can’t help but whine out around him – yes, it’s all for him, and he knows it. Even as he’s whining out he’s dominating you, fucking your throat raw – you won’t even be able to talk tomorrow. “I can’t wait to drink that pretty pussy, f-fuck… god, when i pump you full of cum I’ll lick it right out.”
Satoru Gojo is absolutely fucking insane.
And you’re about to cum again just sucking him and fucking your own pussy with your much smaller fingers.
His hips are already jerking off rhythm now, meaner with it as he’s fucking himself back into your willing mouth. "Such a fucking tease for years... ah, shit, don't stop, b-baby please – m’gonna-”
One moment fucking your throat so hard you’re choking, the next murmuring your praises – pretty girl, needy slut, fuckin’ tease, my sweetheart – he’s a babbling mess, and you can’t help but feel so sexy doing it. Hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard as you pull back, feeling his hands tremble as they tug at your hair.
“Gonna swallow all of me? Hah – god just wait, I’ll fill all your fucking holes,” well that just fucking sends you, when he’s not gentle and he’s slamming his cock mean in your throat, heavy balls smacking your chin as you drool down them.
He murmurs your name when you feel him pulse and thicken, before he does just that – fills your throat with all that sweet, salty mix of his cum, hitting the back of your throat. You swallow it all, every last drop fucking greedy as you cum again, spasming and gushing down your own fingers.
You don’t stop licking him – not even after you’ve sucked his milky seed in your throat, you’re sucking his sensitive cock after, until he's whimpering your name.
"Jesus Christ," he whispers, finally letting go of your hair to gently stroke your cheek, you pull back with a messy pop and he struggles to even find a word for what just happened. “You’re so…”
“Good at it?” you tease, standing with his help and giggling, but it’s all shut off when he tilts your chin, kissing your swollen lips and lapping his own cum off with the tip of his tongue.
“Mmm, was gonna say beautiful,” your eyes locked.
Oh fuck.
It’s not just ovulation – you know it then and there.
Before you can have an entire mental breakdown, oh and a quarter life fucking crisis, you both hear everyone laughing outside. “Shit we…”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, fucked out and spent by you.
Satoru wasn’t innocent – but with you he felt like it – there’s never been anything like what you just did, fucking up his goddamn mind.
You rush out to the cookout after getting dressed like nothing happened – acting all unaffected and infuriating him to no end.
But it was just that, an act.
One he calls your ass out when Suguru is flipping burgers on the grill, and he’s handing you a beer with a little curve of his lips. “Oh, thanks ‘little toru’.”
“Hah,” he chuckles a bit, tilting his head. “Your sore throat tells me there’s nothing little about me anymore, hmm?”
“Shh!?” you look around wildly, as if someone could hear. “It was… just… I was…”
“Aching for my cock in your throat?” He leans low now, where no one in your family can hear him. “I’m a gentleman, sweetheart, I prefer to eat my meals first.”
“Eat your…” you blush now. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he sighs, aching to brush your hair back, but knowing at that moment how many people were around. “Gonna let me return your favor?”
Before you can answer, your mother's voice – all fucking bright and peppy – cuts through the relaxed atmosphere of the pool party, making everyone look over at her curiously. Oh, except Satoru – he’s stuck looking at you underneath his fluffy damn lashes.
"Look who's here! Hiromi, darling, over here!"
Fuck.
Hiromi!?
You turn and there he is. Your ex who broke your damn heart – Hiromi Higuruma, looking all handsome in a dark linen shirt and shorts, his hair just a little bit of a disaster as it always was. He has this polite, almost apologetic smile on his handsome face, the one you used to ride until he drowned in you.
You almost could forget how bad he hurt you until he was right here.
He's holding a bottle of wine and awkwardly greeting your father, who is clapping him on the back all friendly, steering him directly toward you.
"Hiromi, so glad you could make it!" You wanna die. Satoru’s tense as fuck right next to you.
He wants to kill this man.
He would kill anyone that’s ever even touched you, truly, if he could really get away with it.
Your mother is right behind Hiromi, smiling at you and making you scowl. "I just told Hiromi we were so surprised you two happened to be in town at the same time! It's a sign, don't you think, to reconnect? Even as… friends to the family, right?"
Oh, god.
Your fucking parents.
Higuruma's dark brown eyes find yours, and you feel all that pain all over again, mixing with the drink in your system, the pleasure from Suguru’s best friend – and the heat of the sun. Dizzy, you barely feel Satoru’s warmth against you.
It was not just sucking dick – and that terrifies you – but now, Hiromi is here and confusing the ever loving shit out of you. You thought you’d never see him again.
"Hey," he says softly to you, peering over at Satoru for a moment, before his gaze is back on yours. "Your parents invited me here, I didn’t want to be rude but also… didn’t want…”
He sighs then.
“I just really wanted to see you again.”
Satoru’s pretty blue eyes narrow – there’s no fucking way he’s letting anyone touch the girl that just deep throated his cock, the girl who he’s about to put babies inside. No, he’s not sharing – and Hiromi needs to fucking go – he has a girl he needs to make his.
hehe do we wanna pt 2 bc I can't help myselfff - </333 I was actually inspired when i read @revolvingsaturn's fic about Sugu's mom, ngghhh go check it
Synopsis: Toji, the TA, won't bump up your latest essay a couple marks, not with just some begging at least, so you try a different method:
good ol' pussy persuasion
Warnings: toji art by @/youKa.i on insta, smut, porn with a lil plot, nerd!toji, a couple years older than reader but both students, reader harasses him but don't save him he's right where he wants to be, some comedy aspect, college au, non curse au, f!reader, blowjob under the desk, unethical behaviour, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, briefest choking, sex against the window, pússy inspection, belly bulging, overstimulation, spitting, a little fisting I guess or almost, Toji's poor so this is canon compliant jkjk, creampie and unprotected sex, brief pussyjob, size kink/difference, hidden sex, not proofread
Word Count: 10.7k
“For the last time,” he drawls, “I’m not bumping you up a grade.”
You groan, pushing your legs to catch up to him faster.
“Come on, I need this. I’m not asking you to break the rules. All I want is for you to reread my essay and find extra marks, which you will!”
Toji Fushiguro is a tough nut to crack, though he doesn’t look it — one glance at him and one would think he’s a laidback TA. He’s the exact opposite; he takes his job a little too seriously.
For days now, you’d been hounding him, pleading with him and degrading yourself all for him to ‘remark’ your last paper and ‘coincidentally’ find a few extra marks that would push you to the top performing spot you’d been eyeing since forever. Each time you rushed into his office, waited for him after his classes, and followed him to his apartment, he’d shrugged you off with the same ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’ look in his eyes.
Rounding the corner, his long legs making no accommodations for your shorter ones, he says, “No. If you wanted better results, you should have put in a better performance. Surely you’re smart enough to work out that that’s how life works.”
Hands grab his arm, yanking back with all your strength only to be dragged along with him and his burly body. Your heels scrape along the floor. People stare. You don’t care. “Don’t be an asshole. You know my essay was good. It was really good. Just give it a read. A proper one, and not the rushed job you do because you’re overworked and underpaid.”
He stops.
Your face bumps into this back, forehead nearly bruised by the hardness.
His brows rise above his glasses as he fixes you a look. “Kid, your essay was good — decent introduction, clear structure, sufficient evidence — but it’s not good enough for the extra marks to push you into the top band. Your closing argument fell flat ‘cause of your wishy-washy writing style, you didn’t adequately humour the counter arguments and undermine them to strengthen your thesis, and, worst of all, you misspelt ‘complement.’”
A frown graces your features.
“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”
“No. With an I, it’s to flatter someone. With an E, it’s to enhance, pair well, or complete another thing.” Toji explains rather robotically, eyes still dead and voice monotone. “For example, if I said you’re a pretty girl, that’s a compliment. And if I said, your essay goes well with the trashcan over there, that’s a statement that suggests the two complement each other. See the difference?”
He’s already stalking off again, hands in his pockets, huge stature unwilling to accommodate the people walking down the hallway.
You break into a jog, panting embarrassingly by the time you reach him. “Dude, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’re basically friends. Can’t you do your best pal a solid?”
Toji glances down at you. He pushes a door open, holding it a second longer than he needed to. You follow behind him. Somewhat amused, he replies, “We know each other because we’re on the same course, not by choice. And I don’t know what you mean by the whole ‘we’ve gone through a lot together’ thing — the most dramatic thing we’ve faced is when the projector didn’t work and we had to go into a different hall. And we’re definitely not friends.”
Well, fuck, you’re running out of rope.
“Then, let’s officially be friends,” you offer, elbowing him gently. “If you ever need help, buddy, I’ll always have your back.” Then, in an act of complete desperation, you begin shakily singing, “You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. When the road looks tough ahead—”
A heavy hand shoves you away by your head. You stumble into a bulletin board.
“Enough,” he gruffs. “My day’s already fucked because the prof lost his papers and wants to blame me. I don’t need to lose my hearing on top of that.”
Your head flits around. “Did you guys see that?” People give you weird looks. “He just shoved me. The TA just shoved me. We need to protest his violent behaviour by demanding he remarks our papers. Who’s with me?”
Everyone walks past without another look at you.
Toji, on the other hand, lifts his glasses and runs a hand down his face. Muttering something under his breath, he pushes a door open and holds out a hand before you can mindlessly follow. “It’s the men’s bathroom. Tell me you’re not shameless and stupid enough to come in here.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
His eye twitches.
As though an idea comes to him, he straightens ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take a dump; you’ll be waiting a while.”
“That’s okay — I have no more classes so take your time but make sure you don’t stay sitting down longer than you need to,” you tell him, smiling innocently and standing aside to let a guy walk out, ignoring the freaked out face he makes at you. “You can get hemorrhoids."
He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.”
That seems to be as much of you he can tolerate because he walks in without another word to you. Opposite the door, you lean against the wall, whistling and coming up with alternative lines you can pull on him.
God, he’s so stubborn.
It’s not like giving you the marks docks his pay or lowers the professor’s opinion of him. He’s clearly just being an ass.
If he wasn’t such a good TA, a genuinely intelligent man, you would have gone above his head and asked for the prof’s personal assessment. But no, he has to be knowledgeable, a helpful source of information when you’re lost, someone who seems to know everything about any topic, who knows the exact pages of a textbook you should read to further your understanding, and who’s never declined a meeting for clarification on something you wrote.
For years now, you two have had a friendship-like relationship, often sharing snacks and exchanging brief words before or after lectures and classes, despite what he says.
Everyone gets along with him, though you’ve never actually seen him hang out with friends or go to parties. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Word on the street is he works part time in a couple different places. Some say so he can afford drugs, some for tuition.
The rumours never interested you, apart from any that mused about his love life, which seems to be nonexistent except for the many girls who hit on him. Not that you’re especially interested.
It’s just fun to be in the know.
Who knows how long has passed since he went in there. Your phone says fifteen minutes. Is that a normal amount of time for someone to be taking a dump?
Hesitantly, you push the door open and yell out, “Fushiguro? You doing okay? Is it stuck? For a couple extra marks, I’ll give you a hand.”
No one replies.
Brows furrowing, you bend down, looking through the stalls. No feet. What the hell?
Ahead, a window is ajar. Big enough for a man to squeeze through. Well isn’t that convenient? The kind of convenient that exists only in fiction.
Aggrieved and feeling bamboozled, you stomp back to your dorm room, slamming the door, jumping face down on the bed and screaming into the pillows. You’d feel better if you knew he had a grudge on you, if you bumped into him the first day and spilled his coffee all over himself and he’d never forgotten it. Instead, he’s just like that: does things by the book, does his job well, and achieves the best grades with ease.
Naturally, he’d become the professor’s assistant, a coveted position that seemed like it was made for him from the very beginning, and made your life a living hell because he won’t ever make concessions for you.
Sure, you shouldn’t ask him to, but it’s not like you’re asking for much. You’re generally a high performing student — punctual, hard working, ambitious — but you had one bad day which resulted in one bad essay and it lowered your average and now the internship you’d been eyeing could be snatched from your hands in a blink of an eye.
“It’s just not fair,” you cry out to your teddy bear. “It’s three marks. Three! Would it kill him to reread my essay and find those three marks?”
Mr. Teddy stares back at you and says, “He’s a grumpy man. Don’t take it personally.”
You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.
“Teddy…you’re right. He is a grumpy man, a TA with broad shoulders, yummy arms, and thick thighs with a bubble butt, but a man nonetheless. If he won’t pull favours for me, student to student, maybe he’ll pull favours for me man to woman.”
The plushie falls to the bed as you stand, staring at yourself in the mirror and formulating a plan.
With that you decide to seek him out the next day, sporting a new outfit and a different attitude.
.
.
.
“Hi.”
“Fuck off.”
The cafeteria’s busy. It always is. It’s loud enough that most people wouldn’t even hear the exchange — chairs banging on tile, trays clattering, someone laughing too loudly at a table nearby.
Toji’s hunched slightly over a bowl of udon noodles, chopsticks moving lazily as he slurps them down. Some sports clip plays on his phone, propped against his dented metal water bottle. Commentators yell about something you don’t understand. His sleeves are pushed up over his forearms, revealing ropey muscle and the faint silvery line of an old scar running across his wrist.
An old hoodie hangs off his shoulders over a plain white T-shirt. Distressed jeans, worn sneakers. He’s too big for the plastic chair, long legs spread under the table. When he saw you approach, his feet had hooked onto the chair legs, forcing you to fight to remove it from his clutches so you could take a seat.
So damn rude.
His glasses have fogged slightly from the steam of the noodles.
He doesn’t look up. But he knows it’s you. You can tell by the way his mouth tightens for half a second before he goes back to eating.
You snatch his phone away. His green eyes flick up, annoyed. You smile, arms pushing your breasts together so they spill over your tight top. Toji’s gaze doesn’t waver. He continues to stare at you like you’re a pest.
“You can’t take no for an answer?” he asks though it’s not a question at all. “Might want to retake the consent course.”
Manicured fingers walk up his bare forearm before scratching down from his elbow. His skin is warm. Light dusting of hair tickling your fingertips. “Oh, Toj, have I ever told you how handsome you are? Because you really are. You’re so damn hot I can hardly focus on the lectures.”
He snorts, still eating his noodles and still refusing to look at your cleavage. “That’ll explain why you’re missing marks.”
Jaw dropping, you force yourself to recover quickly. A heeled foot brushes against his calf, sliding his jeans up. You bat your lashes, sultrily saying, “The only thing I’m missing is your cock in me, big boy.”
Toji meets your eyes again. His scarred lips twitch. “I don’t need to tell you that was bad, do I?”
You cringe, foot dropping and whole body slumping back into the chair. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.” Then you sit up, handing him his phone, and asks, “Are the noodles good? I’ve never had them.”
Phone pocketed, he shrugs. “They’re just the cheapest deal on the menu. Growing girl like you should get something more filling.”
The menu’s extensive, and the only thing sticking out to you is the chicken burger and chicken tenders meal deal. It seems to be especially popular today but you’re not sure you can finish the whole thing.
“Hey, if I get the Meal Super Cluck Blaster, will you share it with me? I’ve got dinner plans later so I don’t want to fill up.”
That finally gets a reaction. Toji leans back a little and gives you a slow once-over. Tight top. Lacy bra peeking up. Glossy lips. More jewellery than usual. His eyebrow lifts. “That why you’re dressed like a hooker?” he asks lazily. “Hot date?”
“Nah,” you reply, waving him off. “Wore this for yo— Wait.” You lean forward, staring at him wide eyed. “Are you jealous? Are you in love with me already? Because for extra marks, I’ll cancel my dinner plans and promise myself to you for all eternity.”
Toji rolls his eyes. “Go get something to eat; you sound insane.”
You hop up. “Okay, but stay there, alright? Take my burger because I only want the tenders. Oh, and will you share a pot of cheesecake with me? I’m lactose-intolerant but I really want cheesecake right now.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He’s still here when you come back.
As soon as you hand him the wrapped up burger, he scarfs it down the way big men do, like they haven’t eaten in days. You push him the tenders too. You’d actually gotten a double serving of everything so you have your own portion of tenders and he gets to eat another burger. There’s no way a man his size could survive on udon noodles.
“Also, let’s not act like you didn’t leave me hanging outside the men’s bathroom yesterday,” you bring up after sipping your juice. “Can’t believe you left through the bathroom window just so you could get away from me.”
“I didn’t,” he says, mouth full and adjusting his glasses.
You frown, dipping a piece of chicken in hot honey. “No, you definitely did. I peeked and there were no feet in any of the stalls. Unless you’re telling me you can grow invisible.”
“Just lifted my legs when I heard you come in, which I knew your crazy ass would do, so I could finally leave in peace. Didn’t think it’d take you fifteen minutes though.”
A laugh escapes you. “You were waiting me out? Does that sound like the mature thing to do? Jeez, you need to act your age.”
Toji’s eyes meet yours. Your smile falters for the briefest second. “I’m not that much older than you,” he reminds you. “Only by two years.”
“And yet you call me kid or kiddo,” you retort, clearing your throat. Have his eyes always been that green and deep? And is his voice usually that husky and masculine? Because you could have sworn guys your age don’t sound like that.
He shrugs again, second burger finished in a blink of an eye. “Never hurts to remind yourself.”
“Remind yourself what?”
The legs of his chair screech as he pushes it back. He stands, picking up his tray, and answers, “Forget about it. Enjoy your dinner plans. And I’m taking the cheesecake — no one wants a gassy date.”
“Wait,” you call out before he can turn away. “My marks?”
A pat on the head ruffles your hair.
“Still a no, kid.”
.
.
.
“What if I suck your dick?”
Toji lifts his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got a ton of papers to grade for another class; I don’t have time for you.”
The door shuts behind you. His office is bare, not a single decoration littering the place, not a plant nor a picture.
His office is exactly how you remember it — disappointingly, aggressively empty. The walls are a dull institutional beige that makes the overhead fluorescent light feel even harsher. No posters. No photos. Not even a sad little plant struggling for life in the corner.
Just a desk. A filing cabinet. Two chairs that look like they were stolen from a waiting room. It’s the kind of office someone occupies temporarily, like he expects to leave at any moment and doesn’t see the point in settling in.
Leaning against the desk anyway, your fingers drum lazily along the edge.
You’ve been here before: once to argue about a paper he’d shredded with red ink, once because you’d missed an exam and needed him to sign a form, and once because you’d sworn you heard him swearing loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.
You grip his shoulder, squeezing as you scan the fat stack of papers on his desk — the prof’s particular about handwritten essays. There’s so much to read through; you do not want to be him.
“God,” you mutter, flipping through a few pages of the stack. “There’s like fifty here.”
“Seventy-two,” Toji corrects without looking up. His handwriting is sharp and aggressive, red ink slashing through entire paragraphs like he’s committing academic murder. You wince in sympathy for whoever wrote the paper currently being dismantled.
“Good thing you can multitask, can’t you? I’ll suck your dick under the desk, you grade papers, and you bump me up a grade. Easy.”
He shrugs you off, hulking body hunched over and pen scratching on the papers, leaving harsh circles and comments like, ‘what the hell does this mean?’ and ‘you can’t just say perchance.’
Toji gruffs, “I’m serious. Take your jokes elsewhere.”
Nah, you think to yourself.
With a massive struggle against his weight, you yank his chair back, wheeling him a distance from the desk and clambering under before he can fill the space again. He makes some noise above you but you pay him no mind. Your hands rest on his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, marvelling at the density, at the strength you find in them.
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” His foot nudges your knee. “Get the fuck out. I’ll cropdust you if I have to.”
You call his bluff by clutching his clothed cock. He jolts, grunting. Laughing softly, you muse, “You say all that but you have a semi already — did my proposition get you hard, Toji?”
You’re rubbing his hard on, trying not to get flustered by how big he feels, and how fat the girth is. Of course he’s big. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’s a big man so naturally the proportions will match up.
“Suck my dick, don’t suck my dick, it doesn’t matter,” he says, sighing and probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting those marks.”
He thinks that’ll stave you off because he knows you’re whoring yourself out for a grade. What he doesn’t know is that your stupid little brain’s already forgotten about all of that the moment you felt his cock. Now all you can think about is how you’ll have to stretch your lips nice and wide to take him in, and even then, even when your throat is lax and loose, you won’t be able to take him to the base.
Toji grunts again, peering down at you. “You mouthing at my dick? Did’ya not hear what I said?”
Like you’ve been possessed, you press kisses to where his tip is, humming around it. “I heard, but your dick’s saying other things to me, and I know which I prefer to listen to.”
“My dick’s not marking your paper, so get the fuck up,” he growls.
“Don’t wanna.”
“You’re fucking killing me here.”
A heavy hand bundles your hair up, pulling but you fight against it, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints. His boxers have a hole, and yet you only find it endearing. Freeing his cock so it bounces up and smacks your cheek, it leaves a wet mark on your skin.
Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin.
Oh fuck, he really is big.
With nothing between you and his dick, you can see him in all his glory in the partial shadow of under his desk — long, thick, flushed red, already shiny at the slit, veiny as hell, hairs at the base wild and unruly, with weighty balls to match. You’ve never seen anything better.
Tongue out, you lick him from base to tip, prodding at his frenulum.
“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth.
You moan wantonly, already addicted to the salt on his kin, to the texture of his veins, to the softness of his cockhead. “Toji, you’re so big. I don’t think this’ll fit inside me.”
The thing throbs, bobbing. A droplet oozes out and you quickly lick it up. The hand that was pulling your hair has grown slack, simply resting on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping the wood.
Voice hoarse, he mutters, “If anyone can make it fit, it’ll be your stubborn ass.”
Your eyes meet his from under the desk, mischief sparkling in them you’re sure. His cock throbs again. “I thought you had papers to mark, Fushiguro. Maybe you should get on that, no?”
A calloused thumb presses down on your lips, shushing you. It slides down, bringing your bottom lip down with it, before releasing it so it’ll bounce back in place. That same thumb holds your jaw open, hand guiding your mouth to his tip. You know what he wants. You also know that he knows that you both know that you won this time.
Wide as you can, you take as much of his length as possible. You don’t get much further than a third of the way, full beyond belief and overwhelmed by just how much of him there still is. Your nails dig into his thighs.
“If this is supposed to convince me to give you extra marks, then you’re failing real hard, doll,” he notes, gripping the base. “Can barely fit the head, can you?”
He’s acting like it’s your fault he’s so big.
Challenged, you loosen your throat to take him an inch deeper. You gag around the length. Toji curses under his breath. “Careful,” he mutters. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
You ignore him in favour of shallowly bobbing, sucking and licking what you can, as though he’s a lollipop. It’s actually kinda fun.
The familiar sound of pen scratching on paper and paper rubbing on paper echoes in the relatively quiet office. Only the wet sounds of your mouth sucking his cockhead pierces the silence.
Growing more and more used to his size, you flick your tongue around the head, letting your hands wrap around the rest of him, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth. Occasionally, he makes a couple breathy noises — low grunts when your tongue laps up his tip, gravelly groans when you hollow your cheek to suck, and rough exhales through his nose when you grip his balls, massaging them, thumb rubbing the seam.
It becomes easier to forget why you were here in the first place; you’re just blowing him for your own entertainment now, wanting something to occupy your throat.
Then, he asks, as though he’s making casual conversation, “How was the date?”
“Hmm?”
Toji rolls his eyes. “The date,” he repeats. “How was it? He pay for the meal? Open doors, see you to your door, kiss you goodnight and shit?”
Your lips stretch into a smile. You release him with a pop! “I didn’t go on a date,” you tell him. “My friends hosted a housewarming party because they moved in together. I had a great time, thanks for asking.”
Is he pleased? Unaffected? Genuinely just making conversation? Hard to tell, except for the pushing of his hand, urging you back to his dick, and taking him further inside your throat, till his tip bumps the back of the gummy walls.
“Good,” he exhales out, thighs flexing around your body. “That’s real good.”
“My blowjob skills or that I had a great time?” you ask, words muffled and barely understandable.
“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”
A knock on the door has you both stiffening. Toji glares down at you and whispers, “It’s the prof. Do not make a sound.”
He didn’t need to tell you that — you’re well aware that if you get caught, you’ll both face disciplinary action, and will likely be kicked out of the university. That’s worse than not getting the internship.
The office falls quiet so suddenly you can hear the ticking of the wall clock. Toji’s hand tightens briefly against the desk as the knock comes again. “Come in,” he calls, voice steady.
The door opens before he even finishes the word.
“Ah, Fushiguro, there you are,” the professor says, stepping inside with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d left already.”
From your position under the desk, you can only see shoes. Polished leather. Slow steps across the floor. You don’t slide his cock out of your throat, lest it makes a sloppy noise that’ll give you both away. So you breathe through your nose, being very, very quiet.
“No, I was just finishing up some grading,” Toji replies, cool as a cucumber.
His tone is annoyingly normal. Completely unbothered. He’s really convincing. Has he done this before? Is this a normal occurrence? Do a lot of girls offer to blow him for better marks, and does he take them up on it? Are you the one exception to his generosity?
“Good, good.” Papers shuffle. A chair creaks as the professor sits across from the desk. “I actually wanted to ask about the research methods essays.”
Of course he did.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
Toji shifts slightly above you — just enough that the movement brushes your shoulder — and then he leans back in his chair. “Yeah?” he says.
“I noticed something odd in the submissions this year,” the professor continues. “Half the class seems to misunderstand the section on sampling bias.”
He hums thoughtfully. “You mean where they’re supposed to explain the limitations of convenience sampling?”
“Exactly.”
A sheet of paper slides across the desk.
“You see this one here—”
From below, you hear Toji pick it up.
“—they describe the method correctly, but their conclusion contradicts their own analysis.”
There’s a pause whilst the TA reads. You stare at the underside of the desk and try not to shift your knees. God, this is like torture. Having a cock lodged in your throat and not being able to do anything with it is hell. Above the desk, they’re chatting away, talking about your fellow students, with the professor none the wiser that one such student’s under the desk.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “They’re treating correlation like it proves causation.”
“Precisely!” the professor says, sounding delighted. “It’s surprisingly common.” Another pause. You hear a pen tap the desk twice. “I was thinking next year we might restructure the lecture slightly,” the professor continues. “Maybe introduce a short case study before the assignment.”
“Could work,” Toji replies. “Give them something concrete, tangible, to analyse.”
Your legs are starting to cramp. Your lips tighten around his hot cock. Toji brushes your hair back from your face, a quiet act to show he hasn’t forgotten about you. The professor keeps talking, completely unaware.
“Also,” he says, shuffling more papers, “the literature review sections were stronger this year.”
“Mm.”
“I suspect the workshop helped.”
Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.
“You handled that well, by the way,” the professor adds. “The students seem to respond to your feedback.”
This is way too boring, you decide. In an act you might end up regretting for the rest of your life, your offended tongue prods his tip where he’s still leaking salty precum.
He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood.
The professor asks him if he’s alright, and Toji replies, “Fine. Sorry. Just had a cramp.”
A triumphant smile pulls at your lips, which is quickly wiped away by the sudden pinch at your cheek. You wince, unable to smack him in retaliation.
A sigh fills the room. “I fear you work too hard, Fushiguro. You ought to take a break here and there. Do something fun and wild, or whatever it is people your age do nowadays.”
“I am having fun,” Toji says, hand coming back to rest on your head, growing heavier and heavier until you’re forced to take him inside your mouth, deeper and deeper. “In my own way.”
He’s filling you up more than he was before, now more insistent, no longer so passive. You’re struggling to take him but he’s not letting up. Fuck, you’re soaked between the legs. Who knew you had an oral fixation?
“Well, good,” the professor says. He pushes his chair back. Your heart jumps in joy. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know those papers won’t mark themselves. Boy do I not envy you.” He laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too, Professor.”
Footsteps move toward the door. The handle turns. The door opens. Closes. Silence. Two seconds pass.
Then Toji peers down, licking his scarred lips, and mutters under his breath, “You needy fucking girl. Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t resist not being a pain my fucking ass. If you want cock so badly, then here you go.”
His hips thrust up, hand keeping you in place. Your eyes fly open, throat stretching to take all of him in. Oh, he was as pent up, as frustrated, as you were. The force in which he’s rutting inside your throat displays that nice and clear.
“You’ll do anything for a good grade, won’t you? Even debase yourself like this. God, you drive me crazy.”
You gag around his cock but he doesn’t pay any mind to that. No, Toji’s just rutting inside your mouth over and over again, grunting louder and louder now.
Meanwhile, your hand seeks out the heat between your legs. You grind against the heel of your palm, moaning around his length. The vibration has his balls tightening up.
“Fuck!”
Hot cum bursts inside, coating the walls of your throat and your tongue.
Toji leans back in his chair, which creaks. You pull him out, coughing at the salty burn. Damn, even his loads are big. It’s like a cream puff exploded inside your mouth.
Hands carry you up, sitting you on his thigh. One rubs your back in circles, the other wipes away the tears at your eyes, licking at the wetness he’s collected on his thumb. “You good, kid?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“Yeah,” you respond, voice hoarse and not fooling anyone. “I’m good.”
You take a sip of his water from his water bottle, not caring about the fact that you’re drinking from where he had been, and if he cared that your mouth which had been sucking on his dick and cum is on his cup, he didn’t say.
He sighs, tucking himself back in and says, “Come by my place tonight. Hand me your essay again and I’ll reread it. But I’m not making any promises about finding extra marks, alright? It’s just a second chance, and the only one you’ll get.”
Dopily, you smile at him. “Throat game that good, huh?”
His lips twitch. He shoves you away, smacking your ass as you walk away.
“I’ll text you the time and place. Don’t be late.”
Nodding, you head for the door, not leaving however till you ask, “Should I wear matching underwear, or is this a strictly keep your clothes on meeting?”
“Fuck off before I regret it.”
“Lacy thong it is!”
.
.
.
“Should I spread my legs now or do you want me to fluff you first?”
Toji’s deadpan face meets you when he opens the door. He sighs as though he’s regretting this already. Regardless, he lets you in.
You can tell he showered recently — there’s the scent of cheap soap lingering on his skin and his hair is still a little damp.
His apartment is nice and clean, which surprises you somewhat. Most guys your age tend to be messy. But you should have known the TA would be neat and organised.
“I’m serious,” you begin, snuggling up to his side and batting your lashes up at him, “what position do you want me? I’m not the most flexible but I’m not too bad.”
Shaking you off, he pushes you in the direction of the living room where the coffee table is covered with carefully laid out papers he no doubt carried from campus to continue working on. “Go sit down, you horny gremlin. Make some room for your essay and let’s get this over with.”
You do as he says, folding your legs so you can sit by the coffee table on the rug. You take the essay out of your bag, shoving all the others to the side. With a frown, you ask, “So we’re really not fucking?”
He folds himself down too, sitting beside you, knee brushing yours. “I don’t solicit sex in exchange for academic favours. Dunno why you’re so surprised by that — can’t recall having done anything to make you think otherwise.”
“Well, you did give in after I blew you, so…”
“I was gonna offer before you did all that,” he informs you, snorting. “Just never promised to give you the marks.”
Toji adjusts his glasses, taking your papers and starting his reassessment of it. His lips purses, brows furrows, and he stares at the thing like it could tell him the answers to the universe. That or it’s so bad he just can’t fathom what you were thinking.
“Second paragraph, third line, why the hell is it so convoluted?” he asks, voice returning to that grumpy tone you’re more than familiar with now.
It’s the latter, it would seem. He really meant business. You shaved and everything for nothing. What a shame.
Leaning over, you rest your head on his big bicep, and, with a pout, reply, “I thought it sounded smart; I was pretty proud of that line actually.”
“No, doll,” Toji says, sighing. “The simpler the better. Don’t purposefully complicate your syntax. Only do what’s necessary to get the point across. If I, an expert in this topic, can barely understand what you mean, how is the ordinary person supposed to?”
“Yeah, okay. Simple is better, I get it.”
He continues reading, red pen in hand and making annotations as he goes. Meanwhile, you’re worming your way into his lap: one hand resting on his thigh at first, then a leg thrown over his. He notices what you’re doing — there’s no way he doesn’t know — but he doesn’t put up a fight. Eventually, you’re sitting in his lap, his chin resting on your head, and his arms caging you in.
Toji’s warm. He’s comfy to rest on despite all the muscles. Closer now, his soapy scent envelops you. It goes straight to your head. You find yourself squirming.
“Keep still,” he reprimands, underlining a phrase twice for emphasis. “You can’t just use jargon if you’re not going to explain it. It’s bad practice.”
“Got it.” Fiddling with his spare hand, running your fingers down his and over his palm, you ask, “Are academics supposed to have calluses?”
“They bother you or something?”
“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”
He hums. “I do odd jobs here and there, some more manual than others so yeah I built up some calluses.” Without missing a beat, he pivots the topic. “Tell me again what the difference is between compliment and complement.”
You bring that hand up to your breast, imploring him to grope your tits as you reply, “With an I is to praise someone or something, and with an e is to say something matches well with another.”
A moan escapes your lips when he squeezes in approval. Toji mutters, “Good girl. Guess you do listen to me.” Thumb brushing your hardened nipple through the thin material of your top, you squirm in his lap. His lips move against the top of your head. “No bra?”
“I figured you were going to take it off me anyway so I didn’t bother,” you say, still pressing his hand to your tit, riding the motions of every grope and flick of your nipple.
Another hum.
Slowly, you guide that hand down lower. He must know what you’re doing, where you want it to end up, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand or put up any resistance; he’s curious to see how far you’re willing to go. And you’re curious to see how much restraint he has, how long he can hold out before his façade of nonchalance breaks and he’s fucking up inside you.
You tease yourself, and him, first — his fingers, with your guidance, tease your bare thighs, following the hem of your tight skirt. Growing breathless, you ask, “What kind of odd jobs do you do?”
Toji’s calluses tickle the sensitive skin in your inner thighs just right. He’s still marking your paper, occasionally fact-checking your ideas and his theories in a textbook on the table. Amused, he retorts, “You curious about me, doll?”
“Hmm, I want to know exactly whose cock will be stretching me out in a minute.”
He snorts, patting your clothed pussy. You jolt with every impact. “I tutor on the side. Fix up some cars in the garage in town. I’m a physical trainer for three clients at the local gym too. And when I’m low on money, I sell risqué pictures of myself. That disgust you?”
All while he answers, Toji’s blunt nails scrape your slit through your panties. He’s not applying much pressure at all, if any, and yet every skim, every travel up and down has goosebumps rising on your skin.
“N-no,” you answer quickly. “I think that’s really cool. If I had a body like yours, I’d take pictures all the time too.”
His laughter rumbles in his chest. An odd sense of pride warms your own. He says, “Your body’s more than good enough to sell too, you know. Don’t act like you don’t know guys give you double takes all the time, or that your ass could stop traffic.”
Giggling, you lean back, gazing up at him with a smile. “Do you stare at my ass sometimes, Toji?”
God, you’re soaked. You can tell, though you’re not embarrassed whatsoever. If anything, you’re just itching for him to pull your panties to the side and touch you skin to skin, to plunge inside your pussy and make a mess out of you.
“Tell me where you can, and should, insert a semi-colon in paragraph six, and I’ll give you an honest answer.”
He nudges you with his chin. “Go on. Quit thinking with your pussy and give me the right answer.” A little aggrieved, you sit up straight, holding his wrist to keep his hand between your legs. Your eyes scan the section. Tentatively, you point to a full stop on the second line. Toji shakes his head and smacks your clothed pussy again. “Try again, and don’t guess.”
“Here,” you snarl, feeling way past pent up. “Now give me my reward.”
Toji huffs. “Semi-colons help for varying sentence structures. It’s in the little ways you can convey your points compellingly. Don’t underutilise the right punctuations.”
“Yeah, yeah, smarty pants. Rub my clit and answer my question already.”
Cool air brushes against your swollen, glistening lips. You sigh when his warm hand covers the entire slit barely a second later. His middle fingers are instantly coated in your wetness. He groans. “Fuck, doll, you’re dripping.” Toji doesn’t give you a moment to respond to that; his fingers rub at your throbbing clit in tight circles, drawing it out of his hood. You moan, back arching.
Finally, he answers, “I stare at your ass all the fucking time after I glare at the losers whose eyes wander from their laptop screens . I’m a big, fucking hypocrite — that what you wanna hear?”
“Fuck yes!”
Rustling of paper reaches your ears. Then two hands are on you: one furiously rubbing the bundle of nerves and the other gripping your throat. He squeezes threateningly. Your vision spots, jaw dropping. “Look at you, all desperate to have my cock inside you. And for what? For a couple marks? You’re not ashamed?”
Your ass is grinding back on his boner, sandwiching the hard thing between your cheeks as your own answer. How could you be ashamed when he wants you so bad too?
“I’m horny! Are you gonna fuck me or not?”
In a split second, you find your world spinning. Your back falls on something hard. You’re staring up at the ceiling, papers scattered beneath you. Rough hands tug you down by your thighs. When you peer down, Toji’s staring up at you from between your lips.
“Yeah, I’m fucking you. You already knew I was gonna. You gonna let me taste your pussy first?” A challenging brow quirks up, like he’s waiting for you to push him away.
Instead, your legs hook over his shoulders, ankles crossed. You grin at him.
Panties pulled to the side, his fingers spread your pussy for him. Those eyes scan every inch. He releases a shaky breath, cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even your pussy’s pretty. Fucking gorgeous.” Running a hand through his hair, he says, “You’re always such a pain, aren’t you?”
“I can’t help that every part of me’s pretty,” you reply, twirling your hair.
“Shut up and play with your tits — I like a show with my dinner.” Toji spits a fat dollop right on your clit. It slides down your slit but before it can disappear in the crevice of your ass, his tongue is collecting it and shoving it inside your cunt.
You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”
In spite of his aggressive tone, you pull down your top, letting your tits bounce out. Those eyes follow every jiggle. “Good girl,” he rasps. “Squeeze them for me nice and hard. Good. Real fucking good.”
His glasses are foggy now with your own humidity, rattling with every movement. He’s eating your pussy out like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything better, like he’s going to make sure not a single trace of you can be found in his apartment after he’s done with you.
Growling, he spread your thighs wider. “Course you’ve got a sweet pussy,” he says, brows furrowing in what appears to be anger. “Course it’s sweeter than that fucking cheesecake. Course I’ll be craving you till I die.”
Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging for purchase. “Ngh, Toji, my clit…suck my clit!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Those scarred lips, the very ones you’ve stared at more times than you can count, wrap around your clit, sucking hard the way you did when you were blowing him under the desk. Electricity sparks inside, sending tremors up from your lower belly to your tits to the very tips of your fingers. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.”
Filthy squelches are being wrung out of you, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, addicted to how responsive your body is to him.
Two fingers worm their way through your pulsing hole, basking in the rough textures of your entrance, stretching your gummy walls on their way to curling against that spot that has you oozing more cum out.
“You’re fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re gonna struggle taking all of me later.” Then he barks a laugh, spare hand pressing down on your belly where the pressure builds up. Your toes curl. “A better man would take pity on you, go slow or wait another day, but I’ve already had my tongue inside your cunt so I’ll spare you the gentleman act.”
More fingers shove in, ignoring the screech that you let out. You’ve never had more than two and yet all four of his thicker, longer fingers are inside pushing your walls to their very limits.
Despite that, he remarks, entertained by the shock on your face which he studies through his glasses, “Suck it up, buttercup — my cock’s thicker than this, you know that.”
You do.
It’s all you’ve been thinking about all day. Hours after, your jaw’s still stretched out, sore and creaking after the workout you put it through. The thought of having something even thicker, longer than his four fingers has you growing dizzy, head handing over the coffee table.
“Yeah, my cock can’t wait to feel you too,” Toji says, not to you but to your pussy which is squelching lewdly and loudly. “Had to resist jerking my dick raw all day so you better make it good for me.”
Is it seconds later, or minutes, maybe hours, when you cum?
How ever long it is no one can deny it’s the strongest orgasm of your life.
Your entire body trembles, spasming beyond control. Are you screaming or silently moaning? Are your eyes shut or have you gone blind? And is he still pistoning his fingers inside you, damn near pushing all of his hand in?
“Stop,” you cry out. “No more, please!”
Mercifully, he yanks his hand out. Unfortunately, it leaves you feeling so empty you immediately crave the feeling of his hand gripping you from inside.
Lips and chin glistening, he kisses both inner thighs, which tremble.
Toji gathers you with one arm, showing off his strength as he carries you off the table and to the glass door which leads out to the balcony. It’s dark out and all you can see are the lights of people’s rooms in the apartment across. There are families lounging, dogs sleeping, TV’s blaring.
Behind you, you hear the rustling of his shirt as he throws it off carelessly. Bare skin grazes your own soon after his hands make quick work of the clothes you’re still wearing. In a flash, you’re naked. He bends down to pick up your fallen panties, inhaling the gusset deeply. Your legs cross tightly at the deeply satisfied groan he lets out.
“Next office hour,” he starts, lazily spreading your pussy lips and smearing your juices around so he can listen to the squelches and keep your squirming, “you better leave your panties with me. Consider it payment.”
You laugh. “Sure.”
Groggily, you try to keep your head up, wondering what you’re doing by the window, still a little out of it. A hand clutches your jaw, aiding you.
“I’m gonna fuck you against this window,” he announces, leaving no room for arguments. “You want those extra marks? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock like a champ.”
Ass gyrating back against the hot, heavy thing still confined in sweatpants, you wonder, “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”
He lets go of you. You have to catch yourself by pressing your palms to the cold glass. Toji drags your hips back, foot kicking your legs apart. His cock plops onto your ass, scalding. “No, I have a ‘get my time’s worth from shameless women who waste my time with demands for better grades by humiliating them’ kink.”
“Sounds long. We should get that shortened,” you drawl.
His cockhead slides through your pussy, coating itself in your wetness. The fat thing bumps against your clit. You shudder.
Satisfied with your natural lubrication, he prods your entrance. “Yeah, we should. Let’s call it, Shut The Fuck Up And Take It.”
Then he enters you in one go.
You scream.
The window fogs up with your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.
You’re taking so much of his length so quickly that it should be painful. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of pain, not one you didn’t like at least — only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled up is resonating.
Toji grunts. “Almost had to fist this cunt and you’re -hah fuck- still too tight.”
Pummelling his cock in, his hips don’t pause for a second. You gasp for breath, palms slipping and sliding on the condensation that’s built up on the glass. It’s like you can feel him in your lungs, so impossibly deep, so hot, so intimidating.
“God, it should be a crime to have a body like this,” he says, hands groping every part of your flesh he can reach. He slaps your ass to watch it jiggle for him. He’s an ass man, that much is clear.
The force of his thrusting has you pushed closer to the glass, so close now that almost your entire front is flush with the surface. The coldness grazes your nipples. You moan.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
He tugs you back to him, body sliding down the glass till your ass is jutted out. Toji carries your hips up so you can reach him, but it means your toes are only brushing the floor. You cling to the glass door as much as you can. Through the glossy haze, you see the marks you left on the glass, from the oils and sweat on your skin. You see the outline of your tits, all round and fat, the handprints you left and the smearing of them all over the place because you couldn’t grapple with one position to have them in.
Are people watching? Are you flashing a poor old man, are you reigniting a sexual appetite in a pitiful divorcee, making a housewife jealous, creating fantasies for some guy your age? Are people rubbing one out to the flashes of ecstasy on your face, to the swaying of your tits, to the rippling of your ass?
Toji’s fingers creep under you, furiously teasing your clit. You whine. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”
“Go on, gorgeous,” he rasps. “Lemme feel you cum around my cock. Make my dreams come true.”
Two fingers gather the cream that’s formed a ring at his base. He draws three letters on the glass for you to stare at. It spells out c u m.
God, he’s dirty.
Another orgasm ripples through you. Your thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Toji!”
He growls out, hands tightening their grip on your hips, threatening to bruise, “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum early.”
Without waiting for you to come down from your high, he flips you around. Your back thuds against the door. His cock reenters you in a clean, easy slide, cunt beyond soaked and stretched out. Your arms and legs wrap around him.
Those glasses of him have fogged up so thickly now that they fail to serve their purpose. Toji takes it off with one hand, sliding it onto your head, like a headband keeping your face clear of your hair. “Don’t let them fall,” he orders. “They break and you won’t be getting that internship.”
And his lips?
They smack against yours.
He kisses you, all tongue and teeth and drool dripping down chins, like he’s been waiting weeks, months, perhaps years to do that. And you kiss him back just the same.
Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches.
“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”
“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”
The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this.
Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.
Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”
Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”
His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain.
“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts.
You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”
“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”
“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”
Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”
He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows.
Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!
Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you.
Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button.
“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”
“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear.
Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”
His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours.
When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream.
“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after.
Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans.
He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs.
Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy.
Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them.
“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”
Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”
“Thanks!” you chirp.
“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”
.
.
.
“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”
Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.
“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”
That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.
Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.
After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official.
In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together.
A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by.
“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.
Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”
“Mmm.”
“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”
You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”
“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words.
In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.
“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”
The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.
Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?
“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”
Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”
The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”
You go still, this time for a different reason.
Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”
The bastard’s trying to distract you…
“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”
Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?
Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you.
“Don’t mention it, Professor.”
The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants.
He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.”
Your jaw drops.
Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.”
“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.”
The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again.
“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.”
Your heart?
Drops to the fucking floor.
Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.
Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—
Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”
“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”
Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense.
Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”
“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good.
Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.
Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.
“You sneaky piece of shit!”
He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.
Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”
“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”
“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.
“Whore,” he fires back.
Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.
“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.
Synopsis: Toji, the TA, won't bump up your latest essay a couple marks, not with just some begging at least, so you try a different method:
good ol' pussy persuasion
Warnings: toji art by @/youKa.i on insta, smut, porn with a lil plot, nerd!toji, a couple years older than reader but both students, reader harasses him but don't save him he's right where he wants to be, some comedy aspect, college au, non curse au, f!reader, blowjob under the desk, unethical behaviour, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, briefest choking, sex against the window, pússy inspection, belly bulging, overstimulation, spitting, a little fisting I guess or almost, Toji's poor so this is canon compliant jkjk, creampie and unprotected sex, brief pussyjob, size kink/difference, hidden sex, not proofread
Word Count: 10.7k
“For the last time,” he drawls, “I’m not bumping you up a grade.”
You groan, pushing your legs to catch up to him faster.
“Come on, I need this. I’m not asking you to break the rules. All I want is for you to reread my essay and find extra marks, which you will!”
Toji Fushiguro is a tough nut to crack, though he doesn’t look it — one glance at him and one would think he’s a laidback TA. He’s the exact opposite; he takes his job a little too seriously.
For days now, you’d been hounding him, pleading with him and degrading yourself all for him to ‘remark’ your last paper and ‘coincidentally’ find a few extra marks that would push you to the top performing spot you’d been eyeing since forever. Each time you rushed into his office, waited for him after his classes, and followed him to his apartment, he’d shrugged you off with the same ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’ look in his eyes.
Rounding the corner, his long legs making no accommodations for your shorter ones, he says, “No. If you wanted better results, you should have put in a better performance. Surely you’re smart enough to work out that that’s how life works.”
Hands grab his arm, yanking back with all your strength only to be dragged along with him and his burly body. Your heels scrape along the floor. People stare. You don’t care. “Don’t be an asshole. You know my essay was good. It was really good. Just give it a read. A proper one, and not the rushed job you do because you’re overworked and underpaid.”
He stops.
Your face bumps into this back, forehead nearly bruised by the hardness.
His brows rise above his glasses as he fixes you a look. “Kid, your essay was good — decent introduction, clear structure, sufficient evidence — but it’s not good enough for the extra marks to push you into the top band. Your closing argument fell flat ‘cause of your wishy-washy writing style, you didn’t adequately humour the counter arguments and undermine them to strengthen your thesis, and, worst of all, you misspelt ‘complement.’”
A frown graces your features.
“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”
“No. With an I, it’s to flatter someone. With an E, it’s to enhance, pair well, or complete another thing.” Toji explains rather robotically, eyes still dead and voice monotone. “For example, if I said you’re a pretty girl, that’s a compliment. And if I said, your essay goes well with the trashcan over there, that’s a statement that suggests the two complement each other. See the difference?”
He’s already stalking off again, hands in his pockets, huge stature unwilling to accommodate the people walking down the hallway.
You break into a jog, panting embarrassingly by the time you reach him. “Dude, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’re basically friends. Can’t you do your best pal a solid?”
Toji glances down at you. He pushes a door open, holding it a second longer than he needed to. You follow behind him. Somewhat amused, he replies, “We know each other because we’re on the same course, not by choice. And I don’t know what you mean by the whole ‘we’ve gone through a lot together’ thing — the most dramatic thing we’ve faced is when the projector didn’t work and we had to go into a different hall. And we’re definitely not friends.”
Well, fuck, you’re running out of rope.
“Then, let’s officially be friends,” you offer, elbowing him gently. “If you ever need help, buddy, I’ll always have your back.” Then, in an act of complete desperation, you begin shakily singing, “You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. When the road looks tough ahead—”
A heavy hand shoves you away by your head. You stumble into a bulletin board.
“Enough,” he gruffs. “My day’s already fucked because the prof lost his papers and wants to blame me. I don’t need to lose my hearing on top of that.”
Your head flits around. “Did you guys see that?” People give you weird looks. “He just shoved me. The TA just shoved me. We need to protest his violent behaviour by demanding he remarks our papers. Who’s with me?”
Everyone walks past without another look at you.
Toji, on the other hand, lifts his glasses and runs a hand down his face. Muttering something under his breath, he pushes a door open and holds out a hand before you can mindlessly follow. “It’s the men’s bathroom. Tell me you’re not shameless and stupid enough to come in here.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
His eye twitches.
As though an idea comes to him, he straightens ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take a dump; you’ll be waiting a while.”
“That’s okay — I have no more classes so take your time but make sure you don’t stay sitting down longer than you need to,” you tell him, smiling innocently and standing aside to let a guy walk out, ignoring the freaked out face he makes at you. “You can get hemorrhoids."
He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.”
That seems to be as much of you he can tolerate because he walks in without another word to you. Opposite the door, you lean against the wall, whistling and coming up with alternative lines you can pull on him.
God, he’s so stubborn.
It’s not like giving you the marks docks his pay or lowers the professor’s opinion of him. He’s clearly just being an ass.
If he wasn’t such a good TA, a genuinely intelligent man, you would have gone above his head and asked for the prof’s personal assessment. But no, he has to be knowledgeable, a helpful source of information when you’re lost, someone who seems to know everything about any topic, who knows the exact pages of a textbook you should read to further your understanding, and who’s never declined a meeting for clarification on something you wrote.
For years now, you two have had a friendship-like relationship, often sharing snacks and exchanging brief words before or after lectures and classes, despite what he says.
Everyone gets along with him, though you’ve never actually seen him hang out with friends or go to parties. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Word on the street is he works part time in a couple different places. Some say so he can afford drugs, some for tuition.
The rumours never interested you, apart from any that mused about his love life, which seems to be nonexistent except for the many girls who hit on him. Not that you’re especially interested.
It’s just fun to be in the know.
Who knows how long has passed since he went in there. Your phone says fifteen minutes. Is that a normal amount of time for someone to be taking a dump?
Hesitantly, you push the door open and yell out, “Fushiguro? You doing okay? Is it stuck? For a couple extra marks, I’ll give you a hand.”
No one replies.
Brows furrowing, you bend down, looking through the stalls. No feet. What the hell?
Ahead, a window is ajar. Big enough for a man to squeeze through. Well isn’t that convenient? The kind of convenient that exists only in fiction.
Aggrieved and feeling bamboozled, you stomp back to your dorm room, slamming the door, jumping face down on the bed and screaming into the pillows. You’d feel better if you knew he had a grudge on you, if you bumped into him the first day and spilled his coffee all over himself and he’d never forgotten it. Instead, he’s just like that: does things by the book, does his job well, and achieves the best grades with ease.
Naturally, he’d become the professor’s assistant, a coveted position that seemed like it was made for him from the very beginning, and made your life a living hell because he won’t ever make concessions for you.
Sure, you shouldn’t ask him to, but it’s not like you’re asking for much. You’re generally a high performing student — punctual, hard working, ambitious — but you had one bad day which resulted in one bad essay and it lowered your average and now the internship you’d been eyeing could be snatched from your hands in a blink of an eye.
“It’s just not fair,” you cry out to your teddy bear. “It’s three marks. Three! Would it kill him to reread my essay and find those three marks?”
Mr. Teddy stares back at you and says, “He’s a grumpy man. Don’t take it personally.”
You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.
“Teddy…you’re right. He is a grumpy man, a TA with broad shoulders, yummy arms, and thick thighs with a bubble butt, but a man nonetheless. If he won’t pull favours for me, student to student, maybe he’ll pull favours for me man to woman.”
The plushie falls to the bed as you stand, staring at yourself in the mirror and formulating a plan.
With that you decide to seek him out the next day, sporting a new outfit and a different attitude.
.
.
.
“Hi.”
“Fuck off.”
The cafeteria’s busy. It always is. It’s loud enough that most people wouldn’t even hear the exchange — chairs banging on tile, trays clattering, someone laughing too loudly at a table nearby.
Toji’s hunched slightly over a bowl of udon noodles, chopsticks moving lazily as he slurps them down. Some sports clip plays on his phone, propped against his dented metal water bottle. Commentators yell about something you don’t understand. His sleeves are pushed up over his forearms, revealing ropey muscle and the faint silvery line of an old scar running across his wrist.
An old hoodie hangs off his shoulders over a plain white T-shirt. Distressed jeans, worn sneakers. He’s too big for the plastic chair, long legs spread under the table. When he saw you approach, his feet had hooked onto the chair legs, forcing you to fight to remove it from his clutches so you could take a seat.
So damn rude.
His glasses have fogged slightly from the steam of the noodles.
He doesn’t look up. But he knows it’s you. You can tell by the way his mouth tightens for half a second before he goes back to eating.
You snatch his phone away. His green eyes flick up, annoyed. You smile, arms pushing your breasts together so they spill over your tight top. Toji’s gaze doesn’t waver. He continues to stare at you like you’re a pest.
“You can’t take no for an answer?” he asks though it’s not a question at all. “Might want to retake the consent course.”
Manicured fingers walk up his bare forearm before scratching down from his elbow. His skin is warm. Light dusting of hair tickling your fingertips. “Oh, Toj, have I ever told you how handsome you are? Because you really are. You’re so damn hot I can hardly focus on the lectures.”
He snorts, still eating his noodles and still refusing to look at your cleavage. “That’ll explain why you’re missing marks.”
Jaw dropping, you force yourself to recover quickly. A heeled foot brushes against his calf, sliding his jeans up. You bat your lashes, sultrily saying, “The only thing I’m missing is your cock in me, big boy.”
Toji meets your eyes again. His scarred lips twitch. “I don’t need to tell you that was bad, do I?”
You cringe, foot dropping and whole body slumping back into the chair. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.” Then you sit up, handing him his phone, and asks, “Are the noodles good? I’ve never had them.”
Phone pocketed, he shrugs. “They’re just the cheapest deal on the menu. Growing girl like you should get something more filling.”
The menu’s extensive, and the only thing sticking out to you is the chicken burger and chicken tenders meal deal. It seems to be especially popular today but you’re not sure you can finish the whole thing.
“Hey, if I get the Meal Super Cluck Blaster, will you share it with me? I’ve got dinner plans later so I don’t want to fill up.”
That finally gets a reaction. Toji leans back a little and gives you a slow once-over. Tight top. Lacy bra peeking up. Glossy lips. More jewellery than usual. His eyebrow lifts. “That why you’re dressed like a hooker?” he asks lazily. “Hot date?”
“Nah,” you reply, waving him off. “Wore this for yo— Wait.” You lean forward, staring at him wide eyed. “Are you jealous? Are you in love with me already? Because for extra marks, I’ll cancel my dinner plans and promise myself to you for all eternity.”
Toji rolls his eyes. “Go get something to eat; you sound insane.”
You hop up. “Okay, but stay there, alright? Take my burger because I only want the tenders. Oh, and will you share a pot of cheesecake with me? I’m lactose-intolerant but I really want cheesecake right now.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He’s still here when you come back.
As soon as you hand him the wrapped up burger, he scarfs it down the way big men do, like they haven’t eaten in days. You push him the tenders too. You’d actually gotten a double serving of everything so you have your own portion of tenders and he gets to eat another burger. There’s no way a man his size could survive on udon noodles.
“Also, let’s not act like you didn’t leave me hanging outside the men’s bathroom yesterday,” you bring up after sipping your juice. “Can’t believe you left through the bathroom window just so you could get away from me.”
“I didn’t,” he says, mouth full and adjusting his glasses.
You frown, dipping a piece of chicken in hot honey. “No, you definitely did. I peeked and there were no feet in any of the stalls. Unless you’re telling me you can grow invisible.”
“Just lifted my legs when I heard you come in, which I knew your crazy ass would do, so I could finally leave in peace. Didn’t think it’d take you fifteen minutes though.”
A laugh escapes you. “You were waiting me out? Does that sound like the mature thing to do? Jeez, you need to act your age.”
Toji’s eyes meet yours. Your smile falters for the briefest second. “I’m not that much older than you,” he reminds you. “Only by two years.”
“And yet you call me kid or kiddo,” you retort, clearing your throat. Have his eyes always been that green and deep? And is his voice usually that husky and masculine? Because you could have sworn guys your age don’t sound like that.
He shrugs again, second burger finished in a blink of an eye. “Never hurts to remind yourself.”
“Remind yourself what?”
The legs of his chair screech as he pushes it back. He stands, picking up his tray, and answers, “Forget about it. Enjoy your dinner plans. And I’m taking the cheesecake — no one wants a gassy date.”
“Wait,” you call out before he can turn away. “My marks?”
A pat on the head ruffles your hair.
“Still a no, kid.”
.
.
.
“What if I suck your dick?”
Toji lifts his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got a ton of papers to grade for another class; I don’t have time for you.”
The door shuts behind you. His office is bare, not a single decoration littering the place, not a plant nor a picture.
His office is exactly how you remember it — disappointingly, aggressively empty. The walls are a dull institutional beige that makes the overhead fluorescent light feel even harsher. No posters. No photos. Not even a sad little plant struggling for life in the corner.
Just a desk. A filing cabinet. Two chairs that look like they were stolen from a waiting room. It’s the kind of office someone occupies temporarily, like he expects to leave at any moment and doesn’t see the point in settling in.
Leaning against the desk anyway, your fingers drum lazily along the edge.
You’ve been here before: once to argue about a paper he’d shredded with red ink, once because you’d missed an exam and needed him to sign a form, and once because you’d sworn you heard him swearing loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.
You grip his shoulder, squeezing as you scan the fat stack of papers on his desk — the prof’s particular about handwritten essays. There’s so much to read through; you do not want to be him.
“God,” you mutter, flipping through a few pages of the stack. “There’s like fifty here.”
“Seventy-two,” Toji corrects without looking up. His handwriting is sharp and aggressive, red ink slashing through entire paragraphs like he’s committing academic murder. You wince in sympathy for whoever wrote the paper currently being dismantled.
“Good thing you can multitask, can’t you? I’ll suck your dick under the desk, you grade papers, and you bump me up a grade. Easy.”
He shrugs you off, hulking body hunched over and pen scratching on the papers, leaving harsh circles and comments like, ‘what the hell does this mean?’ and ‘you can’t just say perchance.’
Toji gruffs, “I’m serious. Take your jokes elsewhere.”
Nah, you think to yourself.
With a massive struggle against his weight, you yank his chair back, wheeling him a distance from the desk and clambering under before he can fill the space again. He makes some noise above you but you pay him no mind. Your hands rest on his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, marvelling at the density, at the strength you find in them.
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” His foot nudges your knee. “Get the fuck out. I’ll cropdust you if I have to.”
You call his bluff by clutching his clothed cock. He jolts, grunting. Laughing softly, you muse, “You say all that but you have a semi already — did my proposition get you hard, Toji?”
You’re rubbing his hard on, trying not to get flustered by how big he feels, and how fat the girth is. Of course he’s big. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’s a big man so naturally the proportions will match up.
“Suck my dick, don’t suck my dick, it doesn’t matter,” he says, sighing and probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting those marks.”
He thinks that’ll stave you off because he knows you’re whoring yourself out for a grade. What he doesn’t know is that your stupid little brain’s already forgotten about all of that the moment you felt his cock. Now all you can think about is how you’ll have to stretch your lips nice and wide to take him in, and even then, even when your throat is lax and loose, you won’t be able to take him to the base.
Toji grunts again, peering down at you. “You mouthing at my dick? Did’ya not hear what I said?”
Like you’ve been possessed, you press kisses to where his tip is, humming around it. “I heard, but your dick’s saying other things to me, and I know which I prefer to listen to.”
“My dick’s not marking your paper, so get the fuck up,” he growls.
“Don’t wanna.”
“You’re fucking killing me here.”
A heavy hand bundles your hair up, pulling but you fight against it, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints. His boxers have a hole, and yet you only find it endearing. Freeing his cock so it bounces up and smacks your cheek, it leaves a wet mark on your skin.
Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin.
Oh fuck, he really is big.
With nothing between you and his dick, you can see him in all his glory in the partial shadow of under his desk — long, thick, flushed red, already shiny at the slit, veiny as hell, hairs at the base wild and unruly, with weighty balls to match. You’ve never seen anything better.
Tongue out, you lick him from base to tip, prodding at his frenulum.
“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth.
You moan wantonly, already addicted to the salt on his kin, to the texture of his veins, to the softness of his cockhead. “Toji, you’re so big. I don’t think this’ll fit inside me.”
The thing throbs, bobbing. A droplet oozes out and you quickly lick it up. The hand that was pulling your hair has grown slack, simply resting on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping the wood.
Voice hoarse, he mutters, “If anyone can make it fit, it’ll be your stubborn ass.”
Your eyes meet his from under the desk, mischief sparkling in them you’re sure. His cock throbs again. “I thought you had papers to mark, Fushiguro. Maybe you should get on that, no?”
A calloused thumb presses down on your lips, shushing you. It slides down, bringing your bottom lip down with it, before releasing it so it’ll bounce back in place. That same thumb holds your jaw open, hand guiding your mouth to his tip. You know what he wants. You also know that he knows that you both know that you won this time.
Wide as you can, you take as much of his length as possible. You don’t get much further than a third of the way, full beyond belief and overwhelmed by just how much of him there still is. Your nails dig into his thighs.
“If this is supposed to convince me to give you extra marks, then you’re failing real hard, doll,” he notes, gripping the base. “Can barely fit the head, can you?”
He’s acting like it’s your fault he’s so big.
Challenged, you loosen your throat to take him an inch deeper. You gag around the length. Toji curses under his breath. “Careful,” he mutters. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
You ignore him in favour of shallowly bobbing, sucking and licking what you can, as though he’s a lollipop. It’s actually kinda fun.
The familiar sound of pen scratching on paper and paper rubbing on paper echoes in the relatively quiet office. Only the wet sounds of your mouth sucking his cockhead pierces the silence.
Growing more and more used to his size, you flick your tongue around the head, letting your hands wrap around the rest of him, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth. Occasionally, he makes a couple breathy noises — low grunts when your tongue laps up his tip, gravelly groans when you hollow your cheek to suck, and rough exhales through his nose when you grip his balls, massaging them, thumb rubbing the seam.
It becomes easier to forget why you were here in the first place; you’re just blowing him for your own entertainment now, wanting something to occupy your throat.
Then, he asks, as though he’s making casual conversation, “How was the date?”
“Hmm?”
Toji rolls his eyes. “The date,” he repeats. “How was it? He pay for the meal? Open doors, see you to your door, kiss you goodnight and shit?”
Your lips stretch into a smile. You release him with a pop! “I didn’t go on a date,” you tell him. “My friends hosted a housewarming party because they moved in together. I had a great time, thanks for asking.”
Is he pleased? Unaffected? Genuinely just making conversation? Hard to tell, except for the pushing of his hand, urging you back to his dick, and taking him further inside your throat, till his tip bumps the back of the gummy walls.
“Good,” he exhales out, thighs flexing around your body. “That’s real good.”
“My blowjob skills or that I had a great time?” you ask, words muffled and barely understandable.
“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”
A knock on the door has you both stiffening. Toji glares down at you and whispers, “It’s the prof. Do not make a sound.”
He didn’t need to tell you that — you’re well aware that if you get caught, you’ll both face disciplinary action, and will likely be kicked out of the university. That’s worse than not getting the internship.
The office falls quiet so suddenly you can hear the ticking of the wall clock. Toji’s hand tightens briefly against the desk as the knock comes again. “Come in,” he calls, voice steady.
The door opens before he even finishes the word.
“Ah, Fushiguro, there you are,” the professor says, stepping inside with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d left already.”
From your position under the desk, you can only see shoes. Polished leather. Slow steps across the floor. You don’t slide his cock out of your throat, lest it makes a sloppy noise that’ll give you both away. So you breathe through your nose, being very, very quiet.
“No, I was just finishing up some grading,” Toji replies, cool as a cucumber.
His tone is annoyingly normal. Completely unbothered. He’s really convincing. Has he done this before? Is this a normal occurrence? Do a lot of girls offer to blow him for better marks, and does he take them up on it? Are you the one exception to his generosity?
“Good, good.” Papers shuffle. A chair creaks as the professor sits across from the desk. “I actually wanted to ask about the research methods essays.”
Of course he did.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
Toji shifts slightly above you — just enough that the movement brushes your shoulder — and then he leans back in his chair. “Yeah?” he says.
“I noticed something odd in the submissions this year,” the professor continues. “Half the class seems to misunderstand the section on sampling bias.”
He hums thoughtfully. “You mean where they’re supposed to explain the limitations of convenience sampling?”
“Exactly.”
A sheet of paper slides across the desk.
“You see this one here—”
From below, you hear Toji pick it up.
“—they describe the method correctly, but their conclusion contradicts their own analysis.”
There’s a pause whilst the TA reads. You stare at the underside of the desk and try not to shift your knees. God, this is like torture. Having a cock lodged in your throat and not being able to do anything with it is hell. Above the desk, they’re chatting away, talking about your fellow students, with the professor none the wiser that one such student’s under the desk.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “They’re treating correlation like it proves causation.”
“Precisely!” the professor says, sounding delighted. “It’s surprisingly common.” Another pause. You hear a pen tap the desk twice. “I was thinking next year we might restructure the lecture slightly,” the professor continues. “Maybe introduce a short case study before the assignment.”
“Could work,” Toji replies. “Give them something concrete, tangible, to analyse.”
Your legs are starting to cramp. Your lips tighten around his hot cock. Toji brushes your hair back from your face, a quiet act to show he hasn’t forgotten about you. The professor keeps talking, completely unaware.
“Also,” he says, shuffling more papers, “the literature review sections were stronger this year.”
“Mm.”
“I suspect the workshop helped.”
Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.
“You handled that well, by the way,” the professor adds. “The students seem to respond to your feedback.”
This is way too boring, you decide. In an act you might end up regretting for the rest of your life, your offended tongue prods his tip where he’s still leaking salty precum.
He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood.
The professor asks him if he’s alright, and Toji replies, “Fine. Sorry. Just had a cramp.”
A triumphant smile pulls at your lips, which is quickly wiped away by the sudden pinch at your cheek. You wince, unable to smack him in retaliation.
A sigh fills the room. “I fear you work too hard, Fushiguro. You ought to take a break here and there. Do something fun and wild, or whatever it is people your age do nowadays.”
“I am having fun,” Toji says, hand coming back to rest on your head, growing heavier and heavier until you’re forced to take him inside your mouth, deeper and deeper. “In my own way.”
He’s filling you up more than he was before, now more insistent, no longer so passive. You’re struggling to take him but he’s not letting up. Fuck, you’re soaked between the legs. Who knew you had an oral fixation?
“Well, good,” the professor says. He pushes his chair back. Your heart jumps in joy. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know those papers won’t mark themselves. Boy do I not envy you.” He laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too, Professor.”
Footsteps move toward the door. The handle turns. The door opens. Closes. Silence. Two seconds pass.
Then Toji peers down, licking his scarred lips, and mutters under his breath, “You needy fucking girl. Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t resist not being a pain my fucking ass. If you want cock so badly, then here you go.”
His hips thrust up, hand keeping you in place. Your eyes fly open, throat stretching to take all of him in. Oh, he was as pent up, as frustrated, as you were. The force in which he’s rutting inside your throat displays that nice and clear.
“You’ll do anything for a good grade, won’t you? Even debase yourself like this. God, you drive me crazy.”
You gag around his cock but he doesn’t pay any mind to that. No, Toji’s just rutting inside your mouth over and over again, grunting louder and louder now.
Meanwhile, your hand seeks out the heat between your legs. You grind against the heel of your palm, moaning around his length. The vibration has his balls tightening up.
“Fuck!”
Hot cum bursts inside, coating the walls of your throat and your tongue.
Toji leans back in his chair, which creaks. You pull him out, coughing at the salty burn. Damn, even his loads are big. It’s like a cream puff exploded inside your mouth.
Hands carry you up, sitting you on his thigh. One rubs your back in circles, the other wipes away the tears at your eyes, licking at the wetness he’s collected on his thumb. “You good, kid?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“Yeah,” you respond, voice hoarse and not fooling anyone. “I’m good.”
You take a sip of his water from his water bottle, not caring about the fact that you’re drinking from where he had been, and if he cared that your mouth which had been sucking on his dick and cum is on his cup, he didn’t say.
He sighs, tucking himself back in and says, “Come by my place tonight. Hand me your essay again and I’ll reread it. But I’m not making any promises about finding extra marks, alright? It’s just a second chance, and the only one you’ll get.”
Dopily, you smile at him. “Throat game that good, huh?”
His lips twitch. He shoves you away, smacking your ass as you walk away.
“I’ll text you the time and place. Don’t be late.”
Nodding, you head for the door, not leaving however till you ask, “Should I wear matching underwear, or is this a strictly keep your clothes on meeting?”
“Fuck off before I regret it.”
“Lacy thong it is!”
.
.
.
“Should I spread my legs now or do you want me to fluff you first?”
Toji’s deadpan face meets you when he opens the door. He sighs as though he’s regretting this already. Regardless, he lets you in.
You can tell he showered recently — there’s the scent of cheap soap lingering on his skin and his hair is still a little damp.
His apartment is nice and clean, which surprises you somewhat. Most guys your age tend to be messy. But you should have known the TA would be neat and organised.
“I’m serious,” you begin, snuggling up to his side and batting your lashes up at him, “what position do you want me? I’m not the most flexible but I’m not too bad.”
Shaking you off, he pushes you in the direction of the living room where the coffee table is covered with carefully laid out papers he no doubt carried from campus to continue working on. “Go sit down, you horny gremlin. Make some room for your essay and let’s get this over with.”
You do as he says, folding your legs so you can sit by the coffee table on the rug. You take the essay out of your bag, shoving all the others to the side. With a frown, you ask, “So we’re really not fucking?”
He folds himself down too, sitting beside you, knee brushing yours. “I don’t solicit sex in exchange for academic favours. Dunno why you’re so surprised by that — can’t recall having done anything to make you think otherwise.”
“Well, you did give in after I blew you, so…”
“I was gonna offer before you did all that,” he informs you, snorting. “Just never promised to give you the marks.”
Toji adjusts his glasses, taking your papers and starting his reassessment of it. His lips purses, brows furrows, and he stares at the thing like it could tell him the answers to the universe. That or it’s so bad he just can’t fathom what you were thinking.
“Second paragraph, third line, why the hell is it so convoluted?” he asks, voice returning to that grumpy tone you’re more than familiar with now.
It’s the latter, it would seem. He really meant business. You shaved and everything for nothing. What a shame.
Leaning over, you rest your head on his big bicep, and, with a pout, reply, “I thought it sounded smart; I was pretty proud of that line actually.”
“No, doll,” Toji says, sighing. “The simpler the better. Don’t purposefully complicate your syntax. Only do what’s necessary to get the point across. If I, an expert in this topic, can barely understand what you mean, how is the ordinary person supposed to?”
“Yeah, okay. Simple is better, I get it.”
He continues reading, red pen in hand and making annotations as he goes. Meanwhile, you’re worming your way into his lap: one hand resting on his thigh at first, then a leg thrown over his. He notices what you’re doing — there’s no way he doesn’t know — but he doesn’t put up a fight. Eventually, you’re sitting in his lap, his chin resting on your head, and his arms caging you in.
Toji’s warm. He’s comfy to rest on despite all the muscles. Closer now, his soapy scent envelops you. It goes straight to your head. You find yourself squirming.
“Keep still,” he reprimands, underlining a phrase twice for emphasis. “You can’t just use jargon if you’re not going to explain it. It’s bad practice.”
“Got it.” Fiddling with his spare hand, running your fingers down his and over his palm, you ask, “Are academics supposed to have calluses?”
“They bother you or something?”
“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”
He hums. “I do odd jobs here and there, some more manual than others so yeah I built up some calluses.” Without missing a beat, he pivots the topic. “Tell me again what the difference is between compliment and complement.”
You bring that hand up to your breast, imploring him to grope your tits as you reply, “With an I is to praise someone or something, and with an e is to say something matches well with another.”
A moan escapes your lips when he squeezes in approval. Toji mutters, “Good girl. Guess you do listen to me.” Thumb brushing your hardened nipple through the thin material of your top, you squirm in his lap. His lips move against the top of your head. “No bra?”
“I figured you were going to take it off me anyway so I didn’t bother,” you say, still pressing his hand to your tit, riding the motions of every grope and flick of your nipple.
Another hum.
Slowly, you guide that hand down lower. He must know what you’re doing, where you want it to end up, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand or put up any resistance; he’s curious to see how far you’re willing to go. And you’re curious to see how much restraint he has, how long he can hold out before his façade of nonchalance breaks and he’s fucking up inside you.
You tease yourself, and him, first — his fingers, with your guidance, tease your bare thighs, following the hem of your tight skirt. Growing breathless, you ask, “What kind of odd jobs do you do?”
Toji’s calluses tickle the sensitive skin in your inner thighs just right. He’s still marking your paper, occasionally fact-checking your ideas and his theories in a textbook on the table. Amused, he retorts, “You curious about me, doll?”
“Hmm, I want to know exactly whose cock will be stretching me out in a minute.”
He snorts, patting your clothed pussy. You jolt with every impact. “I tutor on the side. Fix up some cars in the garage in town. I’m a physical trainer for three clients at the local gym too. And when I’m low on money, I sell risqué pictures of myself. That disgust you?”
All while he answers, Toji’s blunt nails scrape your slit through your panties. He’s not applying much pressure at all, if any, and yet every skim, every travel up and down has goosebumps rising on your skin.
“N-no,” you answer quickly. “I think that’s really cool. If I had a body like yours, I’d take pictures all the time too.”
His laughter rumbles in his chest. An odd sense of pride warms your own. He says, “Your body’s more than good enough to sell too, you know. Don’t act like you don’t know guys give you double takes all the time, or that your ass could stop traffic.”
Giggling, you lean back, gazing up at him with a smile. “Do you stare at my ass sometimes, Toji?”
God, you’re soaked. You can tell, though you’re not embarrassed whatsoever. If anything, you’re just itching for him to pull your panties to the side and touch you skin to skin, to plunge inside your pussy and make a mess out of you.
“Tell me where you can, and should, insert a semi-colon in paragraph six, and I’ll give you an honest answer.”
He nudges you with his chin. “Go on. Quit thinking with your pussy and give me the right answer.” A little aggrieved, you sit up straight, holding his wrist to keep his hand between your legs. Your eyes scan the section. Tentatively, you point to a full stop on the second line. Toji shakes his head and smacks your clothed pussy again. “Try again, and don’t guess.”
“Here,” you snarl, feeling way past pent up. “Now give me my reward.”
Toji huffs. “Semi-colons help for varying sentence structures. It’s in the little ways you can convey your points compellingly. Don’t underutilise the right punctuations.”
“Yeah, yeah, smarty pants. Rub my clit and answer my question already.”
Cool air brushes against your swollen, glistening lips. You sigh when his warm hand covers the entire slit barely a second later. His middle fingers are instantly coated in your wetness. He groans. “Fuck, doll, you’re dripping.” Toji doesn’t give you a moment to respond to that; his fingers rub at your throbbing clit in tight circles, drawing it out of his hood. You moan, back arching.
Finally, he answers, “I stare at your ass all the fucking time after I glare at the losers whose eyes wander from their laptop screens . I’m a big, fucking hypocrite — that what you wanna hear?”
“Fuck yes!”
Rustling of paper reaches your ears. Then two hands are on you: one furiously rubbing the bundle of nerves and the other gripping your throat. He squeezes threateningly. Your vision spots, jaw dropping. “Look at you, all desperate to have my cock inside you. And for what? For a couple marks? You’re not ashamed?”
Your ass is grinding back on his boner, sandwiching the hard thing between your cheeks as your own answer. How could you be ashamed when he wants you so bad too?
“I’m horny! Are you gonna fuck me or not?”
In a split second, you find your world spinning. Your back falls on something hard. You’re staring up at the ceiling, papers scattered beneath you. Rough hands tug you down by your thighs. When you peer down, Toji’s staring up at you from between your lips.
“Yeah, I’m fucking you. You already knew I was gonna. You gonna let me taste your pussy first?” A challenging brow quirks up, like he’s waiting for you to push him away.
Instead, your legs hook over his shoulders, ankles crossed. You grin at him.
Panties pulled to the side, his fingers spread your pussy for him. Those eyes scan every inch. He releases a shaky breath, cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even your pussy’s pretty. Fucking gorgeous.” Running a hand through his hair, he says, “You’re always such a pain, aren’t you?”
“I can’t help that every part of me’s pretty,” you reply, twirling your hair.
“Shut up and play with your tits — I like a show with my dinner.” Toji spits a fat dollop right on your clit. It slides down your slit but before it can disappear in the crevice of your ass, his tongue is collecting it and shoving it inside your cunt.
You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”
In spite of his aggressive tone, you pull down your top, letting your tits bounce out. Those eyes follow every jiggle. “Good girl,” he rasps. “Squeeze them for me nice and hard. Good. Real fucking good.”
His glasses are foggy now with your own humidity, rattling with every movement. He’s eating your pussy out like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything better, like he’s going to make sure not a single trace of you can be found in his apartment after he’s done with you.
Growling, he spread your thighs wider. “Course you’ve got a sweet pussy,” he says, brows furrowing in what appears to be anger. “Course it’s sweeter than that fucking cheesecake. Course I’ll be craving you till I die.”
Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging for purchase. “Ngh, Toji, my clit…suck my clit!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Those scarred lips, the very ones you’ve stared at more times than you can count, wrap around your clit, sucking hard the way you did when you were blowing him under the desk. Electricity sparks inside, sending tremors up from your lower belly to your tits to the very tips of your fingers. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.”
Filthy squelches are being wrung out of you, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, addicted to how responsive your body is to him.
Two fingers worm their way through your pulsing hole, basking in the rough textures of your entrance, stretching your gummy walls on their way to curling against that spot that has you oozing more cum out.
“You’re fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re gonna struggle taking all of me later.” Then he barks a laugh, spare hand pressing down on your belly where the pressure builds up. Your toes curl. “A better man would take pity on you, go slow or wait another day, but I’ve already had my tongue inside your cunt so I’ll spare you the gentleman act.”
More fingers shove in, ignoring the screech that you let out. You’ve never had more than two and yet all four of his thicker, longer fingers are inside pushing your walls to their very limits.
Despite that, he remarks, entertained by the shock on your face which he studies through his glasses, “Suck it up, buttercup — my cock’s thicker than this, you know that.”
You do.
It’s all you’ve been thinking about all day. Hours after, your jaw’s still stretched out, sore and creaking after the workout you put it through. The thought of having something even thicker, longer than his four fingers has you growing dizzy, head handing over the coffee table.
“Yeah, my cock can’t wait to feel you too,” Toji says, not to you but to your pussy which is squelching lewdly and loudly. “Had to resist jerking my dick raw all day so you better make it good for me.”
Is it seconds later, or minutes, maybe hours, when you cum?
How ever long it is no one can deny it’s the strongest orgasm of your life.
Your entire body trembles, spasming beyond control. Are you screaming or silently moaning? Are your eyes shut or have you gone blind? And is he still pistoning his fingers inside you, damn near pushing all of his hand in?
“Stop,” you cry out. “No more, please!”
Mercifully, he yanks his hand out. Unfortunately, it leaves you feeling so empty you immediately crave the feeling of his hand gripping you from inside.
Lips and chin glistening, he kisses both inner thighs, which tremble.
Toji gathers you with one arm, showing off his strength as he carries you off the table and to the glass door which leads out to the balcony. It’s dark out and all you can see are the lights of people’s rooms in the apartment across. There are families lounging, dogs sleeping, TV’s blaring.
Behind you, you hear the rustling of his shirt as he throws it off carelessly. Bare skin grazes your own soon after his hands make quick work of the clothes you’re still wearing. In a flash, you’re naked. He bends down to pick up your fallen panties, inhaling the gusset deeply. Your legs cross tightly at the deeply satisfied groan he lets out.
“Next office hour,” he starts, lazily spreading your pussy lips and smearing your juices around so he can listen to the squelches and keep your squirming, “you better leave your panties with me. Consider it payment.”
You laugh. “Sure.”
Groggily, you try to keep your head up, wondering what you’re doing by the window, still a little out of it. A hand clutches your jaw, aiding you.
“I’m gonna fuck you against this window,” he announces, leaving no room for arguments. “You want those extra marks? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock like a champ.”
Ass gyrating back against the hot, heavy thing still confined in sweatpants, you wonder, “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”
He lets go of you. You have to catch yourself by pressing your palms to the cold glass. Toji drags your hips back, foot kicking your legs apart. His cock plops onto your ass, scalding. “No, I have a ‘get my time’s worth from shameless women who waste my time with demands for better grades by humiliating them’ kink.”
“Sounds long. We should get that shortened,” you drawl.
His cockhead slides through your pussy, coating itself in your wetness. The fat thing bumps against your clit. You shudder.
Satisfied with your natural lubrication, he prods your entrance. “Yeah, we should. Let’s call it, Shut The Fuck Up And Take It.”
Then he enters you in one go.
You scream.
The window fogs up with your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.
You’re taking so much of his length so quickly that it should be painful. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of pain, not one you didn’t like at least — only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled up is resonating.
Toji grunts. “Almost had to fist this cunt and you’re -hah fuck- still too tight.”
Pummelling his cock in, his hips don’t pause for a second. You gasp for breath, palms slipping and sliding on the condensation that’s built up on the glass. It’s like you can feel him in your lungs, so impossibly deep, so hot, so intimidating.
“God, it should be a crime to have a body like this,” he says, hands groping every part of your flesh he can reach. He slaps your ass to watch it jiggle for him. He’s an ass man, that much is clear.
The force of his thrusting has you pushed closer to the glass, so close now that almost your entire front is flush with the surface. The coldness grazes your nipples. You moan.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
He tugs you back to him, body sliding down the glass till your ass is jutted out. Toji carries your hips up so you can reach him, but it means your toes are only brushing the floor. You cling to the glass door as much as you can. Through the glossy haze, you see the marks you left on the glass, from the oils and sweat on your skin. You see the outline of your tits, all round and fat, the handprints you left and the smearing of them all over the place because you couldn’t grapple with one position to have them in.
Are people watching? Are you flashing a poor old man, are you reigniting a sexual appetite in a pitiful divorcee, making a housewife jealous, creating fantasies for some guy your age? Are people rubbing one out to the flashes of ecstasy on your face, to the swaying of your tits, to the rippling of your ass?
Toji’s fingers creep under you, furiously teasing your clit. You whine. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”
“Go on, gorgeous,” he rasps. “Lemme feel you cum around my cock. Make my dreams come true.”
Two fingers gather the cream that’s formed a ring at his base. He draws three letters on the glass for you to stare at. It spells out c u m.
God, he’s dirty.
Another orgasm ripples through you. Your thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Toji!”
He growls out, hands tightening their grip on your hips, threatening to bruise, “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum early.”
Without waiting for you to come down from your high, he flips you around. Your back thuds against the door. His cock reenters you in a clean, easy slide, cunt beyond soaked and stretched out. Your arms and legs wrap around him.
Those glasses of him have fogged up so thickly now that they fail to serve their purpose. Toji takes it off with one hand, sliding it onto your head, like a headband keeping your face clear of your hair. “Don’t let them fall,” he orders. “They break and you won’t be getting that internship.”
And his lips?
They smack against yours.
He kisses you, all tongue and teeth and drool dripping down chins, like he’s been waiting weeks, months, perhaps years to do that. And you kiss him back just the same.
Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches.
“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”
“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”
The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this.
Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.
Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”
Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”
His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain.
“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts.
You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”
“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”
“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”
Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”
He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows.
Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!
Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you.
Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button.
“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”
“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear.
Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”
His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours.
When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream.
“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after.
Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans.
He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs.
Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy.
Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them.
“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”
Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”
“Thanks!” you chirp.
“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”
.
.
.
“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”
Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.
“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”
That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.
Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.
After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official.
In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together.
A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by.
“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.
Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”
“Mmm.”
“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”
You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”
“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words.
In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.
“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”
The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.
Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?
“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”
Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”
The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”
You go still, this time for a different reason.
Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”
The bastard’s trying to distract you…
“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”
Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?
Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you.
“Don’t mention it, Professor.”
The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants.
He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.”
Your jaw drops.
Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.”
“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.”
The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again.
“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.”
Your heart?
Drops to the fucking floor.
Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.
Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—
Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”
“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”
Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense.
Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”
“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good.
Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.
Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.
“You sneaky piece of shit!”
He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.
Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”
“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”
“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.
“Whore,” he fires back.
Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.
“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.
you have one rule. never get attached. so how come you're torn between five guys you fucked...and the one man who doesn't want you?
synopsis: men are easy. they only ever wanted to get their dick wet anyway. so what's wrong with you beating them at their game? making pretty promises and turning into a phantom the second things looked like they might get serious? it had never been a problem before. until you meet the one guy on campus who doesn't want to play.
pairing: multiple jjk!men x bimbo!reader (choso-centric)
content: mdni, smut + angst, occasional fluff, COLLEGE AU, slower build, lots of piv sex, condoms and creampies (but reader's on birth control), fingering, oral sex, messy relationships, ghosting, reader sleeping around, denying feelings, crushes, pining, reader's roster will include gojo, geto, sukuna, toji + nanami), reader is lowk a villain lol, more tags to be found in individual chaps
a/n: the voices won lol first chap should be out in january btw also the art is by @1amglow + div by
Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh, oh fucking shit. Nell stared in stunned and horrified bewilderment at the dildo suction-cupped to the front of the bathroom sink, jutting out lewdly from the gleaming white porcelain and quite obviously betraying Nell's raunchier tendencies. She didn't even remember putting it there, an understandable hazard for someone who listened to as many hypnosis files as she did, and her best friend was maybe twelve steps down the stairs behind her and was bound to notice it the very second she walked past. Nell had to get rid of it before Tara saw it, she just had to. And she had absolutely no idea how.
She tried tugging on it, hoping to simply pull it free and stash it in a cupboard until she could come back for it later and find a better hiding place, but it refused to budge. Worse, Nell found her eyes faintly glazing over the moment she wrapped her fingers around the silicone shaft--clearly one of the files she'd been listening to was some kind of cock fixation file, and if she didn't want her friend to find her giving a sex toy a handjob she needed to find an alternative solution and fast. Absurdly, the idea occurred to her to just hang a towel over it and pretend it was a clothes hook, but the silicone rubber wasn't quite stiff enough to hold in the face of gravity and the towel simply slid down and off.
Still, it gave Nell an idea. Obviously concealment was the only way to go here, and she knew from experience that her pussy could swallow up every last inch of this dildo right up to the molded rubber balls in pretty much a single thrust. If she just backed up onto the toy, really pushed it deep inside her cunt until she was downright leaning against the sink behind her, she could maybe play it off as a casual pose until Tara walked by and then spend a little more mental effort on finding a way to free the damned thing from its embarrassingly obvious perch. It was probably a plan that had its flaws, but Nell was flustered and Tara couldn't be more than five or six steps away now. She had to act fast.
She was wearing shorts, which made the whole thing more than a little awkward and inconvenient, but once she got naked from the waist down Nell was fully able to sink every last inch of the toy into her pussy as she bent forward at the waist. It occurred to her that her friend might get suspicious if she walked in and found Nell only half-naked, so she quickly wriggled her way out of her shirt and bra to let her heavy tits hang down like dangling cow udders with a sigh of quiet relief. She was going to get away with this, she really was. Tara would never guess what was really happening, she'd just think Nell got naked to use the bathroom and needed to lean against the sink for a moment to, to… to catch her breath! That was it. It all made such perfect sense.
Until she realized that she was having trouble holding her balance bent over like this, and the towel rack on the opposite wall was just far enough away that when she reached out to grab it a couple inches of the dildo slid out of her pussy. Nell stretched her body backwards, trying to hide the sex toy, but it… it was such a hard pose to hold, and her hips kept rocking forward, and then back and forth and back and forth and she, she wasn't, oh fuck it felt so good, she couldn't think, she couldn't fucking th-th-think--Nell's eyes slipped shut, her tits bouncing back and forth as she gave in to the pleasure, and she didn't even notice Tara walking into the room with a knowing smile on her face. "That's a good girl," Tara murmured, in a voice that even Nell's dissociated brain could recognize as deeply hypnotic, and the mesmerized woman smiled in the knowledge that she'd once again fooled her conscious mind into obedience.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
five: crawl out through the fallout | previous chapter | chapter index
don't they know it's the end of the world?
synopsis: the wasteland is a lawless, lonely place. who can blame a girl when a chance encounter leaves you chasing after a man who dreams of more than just scraping by in a shitty settlement? although there might be something more dangerous than deathclaws roaming around out there...
pairings: vault dweller!Geto x settler!Reader x raider!Sukuna
content: mdni, smut + angst, mentions of murder, guns, fallout au, basically apocalypse au, heavy (mutual) pining, MATURE THEMES!!, violence (of all kinds really it IS a fallout au lol), ghoul!nanami is here, protective and possessive men, flashbacks/nostalgia, grumpy soft sukuna, insecurities, messy feelings, cuddling, making out, hickies, plotting
Ryomen Sukuna had only ever known the cold.
He didn't remember his family. If he ever had one.
Just hunger.
Whether he was four or six or eight, it was all the same. He was just a weed that slipped through the cracks.
Hard winters and picked-clean bones of beasts that churned and twisted in the bottom of his stomach. Scavengers glaring at him every time he stumbled through some new settlement. Rummaging through trash cans for scraps. Stealing food from kitchens and run down homes.
His hair and his eyes only ever earned him suspicion, the strange shades of pink and red probably some side effect of radiation, getting treated like a ghoul even when he wasn't one. He started dying it dark when he was old enough to figure out how, scraping together the stuff from old warehouses or smearing paint over it if he wasn't hiding under tattered hats. Wearing dark shades to hide his scrutinizing stare, even when they slipped down the bridge of his nose.
He once heard someone call him lucky for staying alive so long. As if it was anything except his own desperation and determination to survive out of spite that had kept him from dying.
Until one day it wasn't.
Until he stole the wrong thing from the wrong person and a shotgun was being pointed directly at his face.
And the only thing that stopped the asshole from pulling the trigger was a scrawny thing slipping in front of him and holding out a handful of bottle caps. Lying that you were with him, that you would pay for it.
It should've been it.
His head should've been splattered. He guessed the only luck in his life happened to be you.
Sukuna didn't know what to say then, staring blankly at the puny girl covering for him, wondering how the hell he ended up pathetic enough that he needed someone like you to save him.
Your palm was already calloused when it slipped in his bigger hand, fingers interlacing with his as you pulled him away, grumbling about how you hated that vendor, casually introducing yourself as you led him to a farmhouse nearby - your home.
"How old are you?" Your voice squeaked, tilting your head to the side when you turned back to look at him. You probably weren't that much younger than him, a year, maybe two, but you were almost his height. Better fed, he guessed.
"Ten?" He grumbled, even though he didn't know. Couldn't be sure.
"I just turned nine," you grinned, all toothy and cute.
Your family let him sit at their table, filled up a bowl and handed him a spoon. Asked more questions he couldn't answer. Even let a mutt like him crawl into the spare bed to sleep one room over from you.
Good people always seemed like some fantasy before. Fools for thinking there was anything other than misery waiting for them to make a single mistake.
But you weren't foolish. Not even back then - with a gleam in your eyes and a grin that always found him. Sly and sneaky enough to scavenge him clothes that actually fit, even if you'd pester him about taking off his glasses, picking at the dirt that ended up in his dark hair at the end of the day after dragging him around with you.
It wasn't that he was insecure. He wasn't. Stopped giving a shit what anyone thought of him except for when it came to survival. But when your fingers were brushing against his skin, poking and prodding at the hard shell he'd spent so long building, something funny fluttered under the surface.
What would you think if you saw his pink hair? Really got to see his eyes? Would you be scared of him? Shrink away?
You were scared of something. Half the nights he stayed, he woke up to your warmth wrapped around him, creeping onto the tiny twin mattress he and searching for comfort as if he had any to offer. As if he'd ever experienced any himself.
He spent a month there.
Long enough to stave off his own starvation, to stop seeing his bones underneath his skin. But when the snow stopped falling, he snuck out and stole a shotgun on his way out. Left you with a stuffed animal he snagged from another vendor who wasn't looking.
He never knew if you kept it.
Sukuna tried to stay away.
But he always ended up on the edge of the fields outside of that fucking farmhouse.
Catching glimpses of you - sprouting up like one of those crops he stole from the other farms. Not yours though. Never yours. The seasons changed, summers burned and springs faded, but he came back to see the differences in you to mark the years.
Both of you growing up without ever technically crossing paths. He turned to whatever scum would pay him for work at first, eventually getting a gun to guard caravans and graduating up to joining the raiders.
Whatever kept his stomach full. Whatever kept him alive long enough.
Told himself that he was just waiting for a chance to return that favor you'd done him forever ago. Save your life the way you saved his.
So it would be equal. So he could finally stop fucking thinking about that girl that grabbed his hand.
But you still managed to grab his attention in other ways. Draw his stare when he'd stick to the shadows and the trees where you wouldn't see him.
Sukuna didn't know what he was doing. He said it was about living. About not needing anyone else. So why did he keep coming back to you? After you already forgot about him?
He worked his way up - doing whatever he could make sure your little slice of life remained untouchable. You kept it protected anyway, set up guard stations and helped get a couple turrets set up for defenses. Blissfuly unaware that he was making sure no one would try to cross them anyway outside of the few traders that came to your tiny community.
Even in the apocalypse, the only way forward was through force. There were no difference in monsters and men.
And then one day, as the leaves were starting to fall, he got caught creeping around. Not by you, though, no, it was worse.
A fellow raider, whistling next to him when he realized what he was looking at, who. Making some lewd remark about your body.
He gutted him there. Claimed a ghoul got him when he returned back alone to the rest of them the next day - made up a story about a shipment in the south they should go looking for instead to take the attention off of it.
Again, he swore he'd stop there.
A good man would let you go. He wasn't one.
The most he managed was two frustrating years.
Coming back at nineteen to see you picking crops, hair longer, brows knitted together in concentration while you worked, your face sharper than it used to be. Taller now too - but not nearly enough to catch up to him.
He was standing close enough to call out - for you to see him through the thick brush.
What would you do if you saw him? Would you smile? Slip your hand in his like you were little kids again and bring him back to your parents to stay the night?
Or would you be scared of the man he was becoming in the name of keeping you safe?
He almost found out.
And then a blond guy pushed open the front door to the farmhouse, coming down the stairs of your front porch and focused only on you as he jogged over.
And you beamed at him.
All that anxiety melting away, sliding off your shoulders when you called out his name. Nanami. He didn't hold you or touch you. Just nodded his head towards you, picking up the basket off the ground and holding it out for you to deposit crops in.
Anger boiled inside him, undiluted rage flaring up at the idea of this guy breathing your air, occupying your space.
He asked around, threatened some nearby neighbors to find out he was some up-and-coming mercenary, a guy you could pay to take care of problems.
Who could Sukuna pay to take care of him?
Not too long later, he came across the blond prick in the corner of a bar. It didn't end in a brawl - but maybe that would've been better. Things might've ended up a little differently back then.
Sukuna returned six months later.
You were crying. Curled up on the corner of your front porch with some thick blanket wrapped around you. Knees pressed to your chest, your chin resting on top of them as you let out thick sobs.
He crept closer, wishing he could be the one to wrap an arm around you when someone else stepped out to try and calm you down.
Bits and pieces of the conversation floating on the wind.
Radiation poisoning. Nanami. Ghoul.
The only person he was capable of feeling bad for was you. You were shaking, shivering, and when you leaned over the side of the porch to puke - it hit him that you were sick too.
Sukuna still wasn't strong enough. Too low on the totem pull to have enough power to make sure you wouldn't have some target on your back if he took you then.
The most he could do was leave you RadAway.
Go back to the growing band of murderers that he guessed made up what someone else would call a family. The blood and gore and guts, robbing and ruining other people's lives just to make one for himself. One where you wouldn't have to worn down.
Every time he showed up after that, you weren't smiling. The crops weren't growing quite as well. The weather was worse. Your clothes were torn, hands calloused when he caught you tinkering with the turrets or trying to fix up weapons. The other farms nearby were attacked eventually, burned down. You made it though.
You were a survivor too.
Refused to bend or break in this hell.
He had a feeling that even if he wasn't around, you would still be sticking it out.
Life was fucking brutal. Barren and colorless, draining and dull when every day had to be dredged through, clinging to the dreams he'd been having lately of you. They only grew more frequent with time - one or two a month to damn near every night.
You should be nothing.
He couldn't explain why you weren't. He didn't want to be ruled by anyone. But you had power over him. A debt owed. A smile shared. Whatever the fuck it was, his life, hard-earned and horrible, revolved around the temporary peace you gave him.
When he finally murdered the old boss, took his rightful place on the top of the food chain, the one who called the shots and tugged on the reins, he made a decision.
He was coming back for you. His flower.
But this time around, all these years later, so far from the fucking the days where you were both kids, when he snuck past your defenses to go up to your door. Ask where you were - if he could speak to you.
Scavenging, they said.
But there was fear in their eyes, subtle terror at a stranger like him.
So he had to default to other means - forcing one of the idiots underneath him to draw a portrait based on the last time he'd seen you. Used a generator to power up a janky copy machine - plaster every bar and pass them around to couriers to find you himself.
Patrol the area around your home in case you came back soon.
But it was fine.
For the first time since he left so long ago, everything was fine.
He couldn't stop staring at your sleeping face. Brushing the hair back away from the bandages, cupping your face while he etched your soft inhales into his brain. Tracing his fingers over the faint scars on your arms, etched over your torso and carved into your legs in a few places. Sukuna liked them.
They felt like proof you fought to be here as much as he had.
Maybe you didn't remember him - or match the man he had become to the boy you barely knew. Sukuna didn't mind. It bothered him a little, made him grit his teeth when no recognition glittered in your eyes when they locked into his.
But your grit made back up for it. Grabbed him in a mean chokehold that wouldn't let up. Bested by the only brat he was willing to lose to. Nearly slipping away from him twice, willing to claw and bite like some cornered animal. It was cute enough he forgave you for hitting him in the cock - especially when he got to bury it inside you anyway.
It worked out, he supposed. Your warmth, your body held close to his when your lips parted, mumbling something in your dreams he couldn't make out. A name, maybe? It started with an S, at least, and his chest constricted at the idea it was his.
You were here now. With him. Where you should be.
And he was not going to let you go.
"Brat."
Sukuna's favorite thing to call you felt like some brand on your skin, a stake being claimed in your soul when he murmured it into the nape of your neck.
A heavy leg thrown over yours, his muscled forearm wrapped around your waist as he kept you against him. Two more days had passed, and you were pretty sure he hadn't parted from you at all during either.
Careful to keep an eye on you, a hand on your back or shoulder, constantly watching like he was waiting on something. You didn't have sex again - although some fucked up part of you wanted to when he was changing clothes and you caught sight of his muscles underneath. The tattooed skin - probably another courtesy of his friends, maybe a way to make how many people he murdered. Or just because he thought it made him look cool.
It was wrong to be attracted to him.
But you blamed biology. Human nature.
He didn't have to be a good guy to be beautiful. And you guessed you weren't really a good person either.
Although, in this ah, limbo, you'd been living in, he hadn't really seemed like the total asshole you were sure he was. He fed you. Made you real meals. Let you sleep - refused to let you take a single shift.
You were getting your strength back, but his never wavered. Never weakened enough for you to find a single opportunity to slip away. Even now, pretending to sleep while he held you close, waiting for him to doze off into dreams so you could try to sneak out.
Sukuna still wouldn't let you hold your own bag or have your gun. Given that you did attempt to stab him only a few nights ago, you guess it wasn't a total surprise he didn't trust you.
He didn't talk much. Offered almost nothing of himself even when he gruffly asked about you. About what he was going to do with you - whether it was keep you like this or trade you into whoever was above him.
Whoever was behind the posters.
You tried to ask him what came next, what he was going to do about you, but all that got you was him flicking your forehead and telling you not to worry.
It had said they wanted you alive, but still, you couldn't understand this treatment.
He cleaned your wound again before you went to sleep, almost in his lap when he wiped the sweat and blood from it, concentrated enough you could almost mistake it for concern.
"Might scar," he muttered.
You had your share of them, but you felt your own frown as you avoided his eyes. It was stupid and conceited, but you felt a prick of insecurity. Fear that Suguru wouldn't find you attractive any more - if he did at all.
But Sukuna didn't seem to shy away from you, dragging you closer before fixing a fresh bandage he'd scared a trader passing by on the way back to that motel into handing over.
"You scared or somethin'?" He grunted, picking up on some little change in your face.
"No," you awkwardly mumbled, rolling your eyes.
"You're still cute."
He said it like a curse.
It was in the way he looked at you sometimes, how he'd go from hard and sharp to soft around the corners, a little crinkle by his eye or a small twitch of his mouth. Sometimes, he'd scoff, and it would itch the back of your brain, bring back some memory suppressed under the surface.
Or maybe it was just another reminder of Suguru.
Would he think you were a whore for sleeping with someone else?
You were dying to know how he was. If he missed you. If the girls were safe and sleeping in your old bed or the spare.
Nanami would make sure of it. You trusted him. He'd only broken it once in years - and you didn't think he'd ever do it again. It had cost him before. Both of you.
A week from now, two if it took that long, you'd join them. One way or another. You would do what you had to if it mean you would make it back.
Sukuna shifted behind you, slowly pulling his hand away from you, his leg sliding off. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder like you were lovers.
You kept your eyes closed.
Waited for his weight, his warmth, to slip away. Wooden floorboards creaking underneath him as he stood up, clueless to the fact you were feigning sleep and trying not to shiver without him there.
The t-shirt of his you were wearing wasn't thick enough to keep in any body heat, your panties a little damp and sticky between your thighs when your body twitched involuntarily, fighting the urge to shiver.
The ham radio kicked on, staticky as he searched through for a signal. It didn't take him long to find one.
"I've got her," he mumbled, like he was trying not to wake you.
"Did you fuck her?" Another voice snickered, chuckling and crackling through the connection.
"Shut the hell up," he hissed back, his voice dangerously dark and wavering as you felt the weight of his glance back towards you.
"C'mon," the asshole goaded, and your stomach curdled at the chuckle on the other end.
"You won't be laughing when I knock your fuckin' teeth out the next time I see you," Sukuna threatened, or well, promised.
"I-I-" The guy crumbled, cowardice coming through loud and clear.
You didn't know how to feel about Sukuna being so...protective? Or was it possessive?
Did he think just because he put his dick in you that he could claim you like some prize? A pet?
"Three days," Sukuna snapped into the radio. "Get the word out. We'll meet back at that motel."
"Think she's okay?"
"It's her," Nanami remarked, a soft light shining on his face and the dull drone of a generator roaring outside.
You were okay.
There wasn't another option.
They made it back to your farmhouse. Brought the girls right up to the front porch close to sunset - where your family had stepped out the second they saw Nanami. Recognized his cowboy hat from a distance and came out to greet him after they shut off their security systems you set up.
Suguru saw the disappointment on their face. The way their mouths twitched down, the sadness in their eyes when they realized you weren't with them.
That instead of bringing home their daughter, Nanami had came with two more. And a guy who was kind of hoping he'd be their son-in-law one day.
The twins were asleep in the same bed. One that was apparently used to be yours. The blanket was frillier than he expected, pocked with little holes and torn, a soft shade of green pulled over both them. A little stuffed animal jammed in between them both.
Suguru had tucked them in - then came out back to find Nanami at the work bench outside, a cigarette dangling from his lips while he readjusted the radio.
He didn't mind the quiet. The faint sounds of leaves crinkling and insects somewhere past the fields. Making conversation he didn't particularly care about while he worked on something small. Talking about a future was frustratingly uncertain, skirting around the next place he had been planning on going with you. A vault that was supposedly in contact with his old one - something Riko had admitted to him before, well, everything. Sworn that something bigger than he could guess was going on. It scared her enough she didn't want to go back. That she'd rather live on the surface and face her fate than return to whatever she was convinced was waiting for her back in their own vault.
What would you think of all of it? Would you really go with him? And would your blond friend insist on tagging along?
Nanami was using a soldering iron, his lips pinched in a frown as he sighed and finally set it down.
Suguru couldn't really see what he was tinkering with from here, leaning against the wall of your home, glancing around again as he tried to imagine what you looked like running between the weeds.
Nanami exhaled hard, pinching the bridge while Suguru finally tried to crane his neck to see what was going on.
"What are you-"
The familiar sound of radio crackle cut through the quiet, and someone else's voice cut him off when Nanami tuned the frequency.
"I've got her."
Suguru didn't recognize the voice, but Nanami froze immediately. Jumping to the same conclusion he already had, the her the stranger was talking about was the same one they were.
"You don't think," he started, a raw whisper that Nanami immediately held his hand up to hush.
"Did you fuck her?" Someone else fucking laughed, and Suguru was seeing red. Seething at the thought of a filthy raider touching you, trapping you somewhere he wouldn't be able to reach.
His fingernails were digging into his palm, probably cutting deep crescents into his skin he couldn't control, his breath getting stuck in his throat as it closed up.
"Shut the hell up," the first guy snarled back at him.
"Come on-"
Suguru had to take a couple steps away, bile clawing its way up from the deepest parts of his stomach as he struggled to keep the dinner your family fed him down.
They were talking about you like you were a piece of meat. All you were was a slab to sell to them.
How the hell did you get caught? Where were you right now?
He glanced back at Nanami, his pulse too loud in his own ears to hear what they were saying now, but the blond was zeroed in. Staring so intensely at the small radio, he might burn a hole through it with just his hazel eyes. His leg bouncing anxiously underneath the work bench, scarred fingers tapping the table betraying the fact he was scared too.
Suguru used to pride himself on being calm. The collected kind of guy who could handle whatever came to him - that was why he volunteered to leave the vault, wasn't it? So sure he'd come back with Riko in one piece?
Right about now?
He wanted to set fire to this hellhole - slaughter anyone that had to do with stealing you. For whatever they had done or would do to you. No mercy. No regret.
It'd be for a good reason, wouldn't it?
For you?
"Geto," Nanami brought him back, drew his attention to him, the radio off now. His eyes were hard, one cloudy and one clear, but both burning with the same hatred burning inside of him right now.
"We have to get her back," Suguru breathed, hanging onto it like it was his life who depended on it.
"I know," his companion muttered. "We need a plan. They'll be back at the motel in a few days. That might be our only chance."
"What are you suggesting? Shoot them there?" Suguru sounded sarcastic, but he was serious. Hand itching to reach for the gun by his side as if they were here.
"They'd try to kill me on sight," Nanami mused, his own fingers drifting up to drag over the marred half of his face.
"I could sneak in," he offered, a bad idea brewing in the back of his brain. "Dress like one of them."
He might have to break in, stage something to get you alone and snag you then, but he wouldn't fail. Couldn't when it came to you.
"That might not work," Nanami drawled, taking off his cowboy hat and setting it on the workbench with another sigh. Leaning his head back and shutting out the world for a few seconds, desperate to come up with a better idea when anything other than bad was scarce.
"It has to."
Maybe you weren't wearing a collar, but you'd be an idiot not to realize what a leash Sukuna had you on. Trailing after him, treated like a little accessory on his arm when he tossed caps on the desk back at the motel once you finally made it there.
It wasn't right.
You were supposed to be here waiting for your friends in a couple days. For some happy reunion where you would be back in the comfort of people who genuinely cared about you.
What Sukuna felt, well, you could really only chalk that up to lust.
Waiting for another chance to sink his teeth into you, his stare on your skin an ever-present threat - you just couldn't figure out for what. Was it a death sentence you were just waiting for? A promise of more sex?
He booked a surprisingly nice room, one you hadn't even known about. Towards the end of the hall, more spacious than the one you had stayed in with Suguru and the girls, with one big bed rather than two.
You wondered if he was planning on keeping you in here. A new prison - one you could bathe in properly.
But once his men started coming back trying to greet him, he was leaning against the door frame and growling that you'd both meet them in the bar in an hour.
"Can't I just stay in here?" You muttered, hand on the doorknob to the bathroom, briefly considering drowning yourself in the bathtub to avoid meeting the rest of the men who'd probably be holding you hostage if you didn't find a way to escape soon.
You'd have to make a break through the woods - trek towards your family's farm and hope you bumped into Suguru and Nanami on their way here.
"Just get washed up," he grumbled, giving you that same heated glance he always did. "You'll have fun tonight."
Big promises from a guy who also wouldn't let you leave either way.
You did though. Soaked your skin in the tub, scrubbed the dirt from your body and dried yourself with the ratty towel hanging on the wall afterwards. Contemplating all the different choices you had left to take. The roads you could travel if it meant you'd be out from Sukuna's thumb.
Despite the soreness still in your limbs, the ache of the cut across your forehead, it felt nice to be clean. Refreshing to wash yourself of a week with him in the forest, watching him hunt and forced to follow him around when he carved up animals with a knife sharp enough to slice through you too.
When you walked back out into the room, Sukuna was gone. He had condensed both your bags down to one slightly bigger one, but it wasn't there either, but he had laid out clothes on the bed. You grimaced a little at the sight of them.
He gave you options.
A pretty red dress, an old one that had a few sequins missing - and a more practical pair of partially-ripped jeans with a thin black shirt. You hesitated over what to pick. Why he'd bother with something like that.
Maybe it was like his version of a love note.
Am I getting laid tonight?
Wear red for yes or black for no.
You ran your hands over the sequins of the red dress, holding it up against your frame like something foreign.
You didn't have a good justification for putting it on, telling yourself you just wanted to see if it would fit, if you looked pretty when you still had a bandage on your head, struggling to get the last of the zipper up to look in the only mirror in the room.
It was just bad timing that Sukuna walked in and saw.
You tried to take it off, to turn around, already mumbling that you weren't going to wear it, but it was too late. His eyes dragged over you like you were the next meal he wanted to devour.
"That was just a joke, but fuck," he muttered, practically out-of-breath. "You look-"
"Don't," you stopped him from saying it so you didn't have to hear it.
You'd be lying if you said the tension constantly crackling between both of you wasn't as sexual as it was strange.
He walked over, long strides that caught up to you too quick, dropping both the bags he'd taken with him by the bed in the process. His hand trailing over your side, traveling from your hips back up to your side, taking grip of your zipper and tugging it up all the way. You reached back to undo it, but you couldn't reach.
"Sukuna," you exhaled, not sure what you were about to do. It sounded too intimate, as if he was a friend instead of a foe.
"Say my name like that again," he dared you, and you didn't.
Your choice was made for you.
But it worked out a little better than you expected when he was too distracted staring at your ass when you bent over to pretend to fetch a fallen sequin from underneath the bed to notice you slipped your hand in the bag and felt around for a pack of mentats he'd taken from the other trader too - intent on reselling it like you'd done earlier, moving it to a side pocket that would be easy to get to.
You were just going to beat him to it here.
Except instead of caps, you were hoping you'd get a different chem tonight from the man you sold the other ones too earlier. Something that would knock someone out long enough for you to make a run for it.
You might earn yourself a real leash if you failed - but wasn't that were you were headed anyway? You'd rather try than die domesticated.
But you sure fucking felt domesticated a couple hours later, sitting on Sukuna's lap, being paraded around like a shiny new prize, his hands lingering from place to place on your body as he offered to buy you another drink.
The warmth in your chest was making you dizzy, but it didn't drown out the voices in your head ready to point out any opportunity. He brought his bag, put it underneath the table - probably to make sure you didn't make a run back to the room to grab and go.
All the better for you.
It would make this easier.
Sukuna's hand slipped underneath your dress, squeezing your thigh as you squirmed on his lap. One of the men at your table laughed, one of his friends that Sukuna seemed to barely tolerate judging by the annoyed look he shot them.
"Shut up and get out of here," he barked, his free hand waving him away.
"C'mon," the guy complained, taking a shot without wincing. "Aren't we celebrating?"
It felt more like your funeral, but you still forced a smile. Played content with being prisoner.
"We haven't seen you in like, two weeks," another one pouted, and you were starting to realize something you'd never given a second thought to about raiders.
They were mostly morons. Like, literally. You thought they were just wired wrong, or seen enough trouble and trauma to do what they did. But some of them were simply just stupid.
And Sukuna had still managed to wield them like weapons, turn them into something to be scared of here, or at least with his crew of them.
"Last person to leave us alone gets their skull cracked op-" He didn't get to finish before the rest of the table scattered. Going to other tables, up to the bar where the other patrons were. Rejoining some of their friends, one of them actually sitting with the girl from the last time, feeding her whatever snack he ordered from the bartender and flirting.
The room was almost full - cigarette smoke clinging to everyone, laughter filling the background as they talked and chattered between themselves.
"Is this all of your friends?" You muttered under your breath, leaning up to talk in Sukuna's ear. Slurring just enough that he'd think you were being curious or sloppy rather than searching for more information.
"Not quite," he muttered. "You'll meet the rest later."
How many more were there?
You didn't get to press, not when someone was bold enough to approach your table. Bobbed white hair, streaked with red, one of those blank faces you couldn't decipher - but Sukuna didn't threaten to flay them.
"Can I speak to you?"
Sukuna reluctantly nodded, the hand on your side releasing you unexpectedly. "If it's important."
You polished off what was left in your glass, purposely tilting your head back enough one of the pins you put in your hair would fall out and clatter to the floor. You bent down to pick it up, praying he once again stayed oblivious when you maged to palm the mentats from his bag.
"May I get another drink then?" You huffed, hoping it sounded petulant enough he wouldn't second-guess it.
He was distracted enough not to, letting you off of him entirely this time as his subordinate delivered whatever news they had, something about one of their men being missing by the tidbits you managed to make out.
You had more important things to worry about.
Including managing to slide next to one of the only people here not associated with the raiders, although he was probably just as shady.
"Hey," he casually greeted you under his breath, only sparing you a quick glance before surprise flickered on his expression. You forced your head forward, like it would signal him to do the same. "Wait, you're-"
"Pretend you don't recognize me," you mumbled, passing him the mentats when no one was paying attention. "I need something that will knock someone out."
Why bother beating around the bush?
You wanted to at least give him a chance to get the fuck out of here too in case they figured out where the chems came from.
Maybe it was because you'd been a good seller to him before, or perhaps just a recent one, he slipped you something back, a new formula, he said.
It had a syringe, something you'd have to stab Sukuna with if you wanted it to work, but the likelihood of success somehow felt even further away when you realized you'd have to sneak it back into his bag and find a way to use it afterwards.
If it even worked.
You ordered another drink from the bartender, a new kind of discomfort loitering in the deepest parts of your stomach. Debating over just dropping it here. Giving up on this surely stupid plan before you got your own skull bashed in for it.
Sukuna was being nice. Or as close as he could come to it.
It wasn't that bad.
How hard would however many years you had left be if they were in his custody?
You went to glance over your shoulder at him as the bartender slid the drink to you - but your stare got hung up on someone else first.
Towards the back, sitting at a table with a couple other clueless guys playing some drinking game for caps.
You recognized him immediately - even if no one else did.
Suguru was here.
He'd shown up. He almost blended in too, wearing the same sort of clothes they did, his hair tied up in a messy bun as he laughed with them, playing on their drunk daze to make them think he was one of theirs.
Did he hear the radio transmission the other night? Or did he stumble into this and improvise?
His eyes locked onto yours, narrowed as his jaw clenched, nodding just enough to signal what you already knew.
Suguru wanted to save you.
He didn't give up on you. So you refused to give up on him.
You walked back to the table, reclaiming your spot on Sukuna's lap with a little more confidence this time. Keeping the syringe hidden inside a single closed fist, but doing your damn best not to draw notice as you adjusted how you were sitting so he'd feel it.
His white-haired friend left while you moved, saying something to him you couldn't hear.
Bending over, you snuck the syringe where you guessed would be easiest to reach later, but covering it up when you came back up by dragging your hand along the inside of his calf all the way up his spread thighs. Delicate enough to tease with the right amount of pressure for him to want more.
It was humiliating to act like this in front of Suguru. Made the heat under your face burn hotter, stomach churn and curdle when you leaned back against Sukuna like he was the only man you wanted.
Sukuna stiffened, a possessive hand grabbing your waist and pulling your back flush with his chest. His breath on your throat made you shudder, his teeth skimming over your throat as he throbbed underneath you.
"What are you doing?" He asked, all gravelly and deep.
You grabbed the drink in front of you, bringing it up to his lips for a taste too. His mouth parted, letting you pour it in as he stared at you through half-lidded eyes.
It wasn't fair that he was so sexy like this.
Openly watching you like he couldn't wait to fuck you, dripping with desire he didn't even attempt to disguise. You couldn't look away if you wanted to when he swallowed, that pretty lump in his throat bobbing.
You had to force yourself to take the glass from him, steadying your resolve with a long sip of your own, reminding yourself that you couldn't let Suguru down.
"Can we go back to our room?"
For once, he listened to you.
But even then, you faced yet another obstacle when he left the bag at the base of the bed, too busy leaving bite marks across your throat to notice the frustration flitting across your face when it thudded to the ground. You needed it somewhere else, or at least, wherever you'd be able to get the syringe without making him suspicious.
"You wanna see that lingerie?" You offered as his mouth danced over your jaw, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt before you started tugging up to take it off of him.
He chuckled, like he thought you were joking, until he paused enough to see your face and realized you meant it.
"That leopard print one?" He teased, already reaching around to undo your zipper as you slyly nodded.
"I stole it from here," you confessed, and his lips curled up in a cruel smirk.
Like it was confirmation you were like him.
"Get on the bed," you muttered, shrugging your dress off and letting it hit the floor.
You made a show of grabbing the bag and walking over to him with it, rummaging through its contents for the slip you shoved to the bottom. He was watching you carefully, shrewdly assessing for any signs of something being wrong - but you only pulled out what you said you would.
Putting it on and holding your breath, hating the parts of you that liked how hungrily he always looked at you, how he could make you feel. The fact you wanted him too.
Slowly, you reached underneath it and shimmied your panties down your thighs, stepping out of it. He relaxed, shoulders lowering as he leaned against the bed frame, sitting up and holding out his arms for you to climb on top of him.
His defenses were down.
Probably soothed by the thought you wouldn't try anything panty-less.
You straddled his thick thighs, the thin lingerie riding up your own as you felt his cock respond to you already, begging for attention from being confined in his boxers.
"Do you have any idea," he paused, a pretty growl torn from his throat as you grinded down on him, the friction probably killing him. "How fucking long I've been dreaming of this?"
You kissed him so you didn't know.
Deep and hard, teeth and tongue, raking your fingers through his hair, his tongue halfway down your throat while you trailed your other hand down his toned chest. You undid the button of his jeans easily, pulling down the zipper next.
"Are there more condoms in the bag?" You asked, breath hitching when you pulled away for air, leaving more kisses down his sharp features, over his tattoos and down to his throat.
"Yeah," he grunted, grabbing your ass and squeezing as you shifted, making it look like you were leaning over to get one.
He never saw the syringe.
It was just a handful of seconds, a flash of movement, and you were plunging down on the depressor. Whatever the fuck was in it, it worked fast, and you only had a moment of Sukuna's stunned betrayal to haunt you before his eyes were rolling back, his body going limp beneath you.
You froze. Stuck on top of him for a few seconds while you waited for him to wake up and strangle you. Holding your breath while you studied his chest to search for his own.
He was still breathing.
You swallowed hard, physically shaking as you peeled yourself from him, moving him over in slow increments as you propped him up on his side in case he got sick.
Whatever happened from here, regardless of your future, you didn't want to feel responsible for killing him if you didn't have to.
Trembling and keeping an eye on him when you managed to stand back up, throwing his bag over your shoulder as you looked around the room in a haze, all the alcohol from earlier finally catching up and making you feel fucking sick as you stumbled forward.
Where the fuck were the weapons?
Getting on your knees as you looked under the bed, finding both guns there before you reluctantly only grabbed yours and got back up to your feet.
You hesitated again though, pulling the bag down enough to unzip it, rummaging through to separate his stuff out, throwing his clothes and some caps out, freezing again as you questioned if you were stupid for leaving his stuff here before landing on doing it anyway.
Maybe he thought you were the same as him. Matched in some screwed up way.
But you wanted to be better.
Half-hyperventilating as you hurried for the door once you were through, wondering how long you had, how fast you had to be to make it out of here - or where the fuck Suguru would even meet you at.
Opening the door without looking just to run straight into something hard, wincing as your nose what felt like a wall. Flinching backwards, head snapping up to see the man you were scrambling for.
Dreaming of.
Suguru was standing there, dark eyes stormy as they searched yours for something you couldn't name. You forced a smile, but it melted into a real one the second his strong hand cupped your face.
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, reader’s tipsy ( and supposed to be saving herself for marriage ), thigh riding, dry humping. all characters featured are aged 18+
𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3
𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act ten [ thigh riding ]
“Now petit,” Remy drawls. he’s breathless from the barrage of kisses and heavy petting you’d sprung upon him, but that doesn’t stop his lips from still chasing every movement of yours. his breath was hot on your mouth, his stubble tickling your soft cheek. you imagined just how raw it could rub between your legs, scraping against sensitive, vulnerable flesh and you mewl out loud, squirming in his lap. the idea made you wet. “You makin’ Gambit feel all guilty for givin’ you the drink, what with the way yer a’actin’ now.” but even in your inebriated state, you could tell that wasn’t entirely true. Remy was grinning a lazy, satisfied simper, enjoying the way your body rubbed against his, the way your head dipped so that you could nuzzle against his neck, lick and kiss and suck all over. “Rubbin’ all up on me like some kinda kitty cat in heat, purrin’ so pretty like.” with one hand firmly planted on the flare of your hip, the other traipsed across the shape of your jaw, urging your lips back towards his own. “Tell Gambit what it is you wantin’ right now, chére.”
“I want you.” the answer comes out so easily— slips from your swollen lips as simply as if you’d been asked what day it was. “Remy, I want you so much.”
Remy’s grin only widens, showing the tips of his jagged canine on one side. calloused fingers trace over your lips, committing each mountain and valley to memory as deep, ruby eyes flicker across your face, drinking in your expression. glassy eyes, unable to fully focus, in a lustful haze as the alcohol worked away in your system, lowering your inhibitions that you were usually so strict on. if Remy had been more of a scoundrel, he would’ve spared not a second— he would’ve had you on your back on the couch, legs wrapped around his waist and screaming his name as he plowed into you over and over. he knew you would let him in your drunken stupor. hell, you’d probably even beg him for it. however, he pushed that fantasy deep into the recesses of his mind almost as suddenly as it had flared.
damn, he hated having to be the reasonable one.
“I’m achin’,” he responds in a low groan, just barely rocking his hips to adjust your position on his lap, centering you. with the way your skirt was rolled up, the thick tent in his pants prods against the soft, flimsy cotton of your panties, already damp with your own desire. he lets out another sound, an expletive under his breath, as he feels the soak bleeding a damp spot right on his groin. his clothes were going to smell like your core, your arousal, which made it even more difficult for him to resist. “Gambit wants you bad, too, chére.”
“Then take me,” you plead with him, your hands running down over his shoulders, caressing his broad chest before sinking lower down over his abs. “Take me, Remy.” you could feel just how honest his words were, his hard cock rubbing up against your panties in such a delectable way, and you roll your hips to meet that movement, swooning at just how much of his length you could feel while he was still packaged up. your hands, albeit novice level when it came to intimacy, blindly fumbles with his belt, eliciting a soft grunt from him.
“Nuh uh uh, petit.” he insists, both hands fleeing to envelop yours and hold them for a moment. “Gambit ain’t gonna do nothin’ to make his lady hate herself in the mornin’, when her pretty head a’poundin’ and she’s comin’ round back to her senses. You done told me that you not gonna be ready ‘til I put a ring on this pretty, little finger.” pulling your hands with his own gloved ones to his lips, he peppers them in loving, open mouthed kisses. “Ah’ll always look after you, chére. And ah can tell that right now, you need a lookin’ after, but Gambit don’t take advantage a’his woman.” he paused, pondered for a moment, and gives you a charming, toothy grin. one that always made your knees weak so you were grateful to be perched on his lap. “That don’t mean he won’t give her what she needs,” releasing your hands from his own, he shifts you on his lap, his back sliding down further along the cushion of the sofa. you’re jostled into a straddling position across his right thigh, and he lets out a soft sigh— most likely of disappoint as his hard on can no longer rub your wet panties.
“Remy—“ you start to protest, squirming against his thigh. you wanted to get back to that intense sensation of his cock throbbing in his trousers, begging to be released. you wanted to grind on it some more, until you came and soaked his groin in your scent, since he wouldn’t let you get it out.
“Hush now, sugar. Just let Gambit get’chu goin’.”
one svelte finger slipped under your skirt, tracing your panty line before hooking into it. his bare knuckle brushed against your swollen clit, causing you to catch your breath and seize, but he only chuckles, pulling those panties to the side and out of the way. Remy taps his foot against the floor in a slow rhythm, the motion bouncing you up and down on his taut thigh. it wasn’t until you sit flush against it that you elicit a soft moan.
“Attagirl, just rub that sweet, little honeypot on my leg ‘till you’re all satisfied.”
both of your hands immediate search for purchase on his thigh, splaying out to provide leverage as your hips start to move of their own volition, humping your boyfriend’s leg like a needy bitch. it was almost overwhelming how warm his thigh was, how you were able to feel it radiating off of him. his muscles were subtle against the fabric, but tightened, and with each roll of your hips, your bare cunny rode against the dips in his muscle pads and wrinkles in the fabric, providing you with a wide, ribbed expanse to strum yourself silly upon.
before long, you were panting, back arching and hips rutting in fast, eager buck, and Remy can’t help but admire that sight. moaning to himself with one hand holding your waist to help guide your movements, the other palms at his cock, snorting through his nostrils to suppress a rumbling, pleasured sound. “Ah, chére, you drive Gambit crazy without even tryin’.” red eyes completely and utterly entranced by your base display, the smile on his lips still present, he rubs the bulge in his pants in languid circles, only to quell the raging need to be inside you. “Gonna cum on me, aincha?” he taunts, but only because he can see how close you are. he could watch the way you’re gripping his leg with both hands in tight vices, or feel all of the muscles in your legs tensed up, clenching around his own. he could hear it in your voice, the higher pitched gasping yelps that escaped your open mouth as your jaw hangs slack, and the dampness that coated his leg underneath you, marking him as yours. “You go ahead, now.” he encourages, squeezing your waist to ensure you that he still had you. “Let it all out, chére. Let Gambit see you.”
it was too difficult to hold out. your stomach was tied in a thousand knots that pulled and pulled and pulled with each swipe of your cunt over his thigh, until it felt like snapping. your nails dug into the rough denim of his pants, and you were certain you’d torn microscopic threading, because you could feel the warm flesh beneath, but you couldn’t care less about his ruined jeans right now. rubbing back and forth, aided only by the slight tapping of his foot, the bouncing of his leg, you brought yourself to the tipping point.
and when you came undone, you rode out the duration of your orgasm. toes curling, eyes crossing, and mouth hanging open. you cried out Remy’s name as if it were the only word you could remember. your clit throbbed, your core clenched around nothing but air, seeming to demand to be filled for the first time. slowing down once your muscles all loosened, you felt a creeping soreness in your inner thighs, cramping from the position you were in, but you chose to ignore it. your eyes were even more difficult to focus, now, but you managed to see only one of Remy and smile, lackadaisically and satiated at him.
that makes him laugh out loud, his hand gliding up the curve of your side and then to your arm, tracing over your shoulder until his thumb and forefinger capture your chin. “Now, what a pretty sight dat is,” he murmurs. his voice is still husky with unfulfilled desire, but he no longer rubs at himself. he needs that arm to sneak around your lower back and jerk you closer to his body, until you collapse with your chest flush to his. a soft giggle bubbles up from your grinning tiers, holding his shoulders. you can feel the warmth of his breath washing over your lips and cheeks in waves as he speaks again. “Cumdrunk’s cute on ya, chére.”
"S-so, umm, uhh, a-about those new, umm, those new glow-in-the-dark dildos we've been testing, I…." Nora paused, trying to gather her muzzy thoughts despite the constant allure of the images unfolding in her mind. She kept picturing the vivid magenta hue of the radiant fake cock sliding in and out of her pussy, in and out again and again as she squatted on it over and over and stared at herself in the mirror while her cunt swallowed the toy right up to its molded silicone balls. "I think there are some issues," she finished sheepishly, wiping away a trickle of drool from the corner of her mouth with the hand that turned out to be holding the sex toy. It was all she could do not to fellate it.
George gave her a look that wasn't stern, exactly, but definitely contained the kind of skepticism that made Nora eager to fawn on him and apologize to him and tell him that no, of course it must have been her silly little dumb-dumb brain's foolish imagination and the toy was fine. But she forced herself to stand her ground, even as he asked, "Oh really? What kind of issues?" in a tone of dismissive disinterest that suggested he couldn't even be bothered to pretend to take her concerns seriously. Nora almost didn't blame him. If someone wearing a skirt as short as hers and a low-cut top that practically showed her nipples came to her with 'serious concerns', Nora would have trouble taking them seriously, too.
But she also knew she was right. It was the last conviction in her fuzzy, foggy brain and she clung to it like a swimmer hanging on to a life preserver as she stammered, "It's, um, I, I think it's the… the stuff we mixed into the toy to make it glow. I think it's giving off a rad, rad, radiation! A radiation that, um, that seeps into the tissues and, and has an effect on the brain. I… um, I don't think it's safe for use inside the body, and, uh, like, that's what it's for?" The look he gave Nora made her instantly feel foolish for even thinking such a thing. Of course radiation in her pussy couldn't affect the brain. It was… that was another whole part of the body, almost all the way down on the other end. How could it even get there?
But she slowly, sluggishly remembered what her research had showed her, and realized that she had to do something to convince George. "See, um, it's like, uhh… there are a lot of nerves down here, right?" she asked him, clambering up onto his desk and squatting with her pale legs spread wide to give him a good picture of what she was talking about. She was grateful she'd forgotten to wear panties, they would only have gotten in the way. "And, um, I think the nervous system, like, conducts the radiation, so if you push the toy in down here…." She lowered herself onto the glowing dildo, almost losing her train of thought entirely as it penetrated her sopping cunt. "Then, um, then it goes into your brain and makes you dumb and slutty and… and… eager to please, I guess?"
George reached forward, scooping her tits out of her top and groping them with an almost disdainful familiarity. "No, no, I get all that, sweetie," he said, his voice thick with condescension. "I'm just asking why that's an issue." Nora opened her mouth to answer, certain that she could come up with a reason… but her hips just kept rising and falling. She kept filling her juicy cunt with the toy, and the toy kept filling her brain with static. And after a while, Nora forgot that he'd asked her anything at all.
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❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.
❧ Content | language, fluff, tension, lesbo vibes (heh), etc.
❧ Word Count | 5k
❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.
| Chapters mlist |
——Here’s the thing, you can go a decently long time without even laying a finger on Choso. Yet when it comes to the man in question touching you or feeling the need to, things are quite different.
Speaking of different, everything is different after that night you spent with Choso.
For starters, you do everything in your power to avoid Gojo at all costs. It’s not that you didn’t want to see the guy or anything but, every time you ran into him, his hands would be all over you and he’s such an attentive man that when your body is covered with hickeys your best friend left on you– it’s hard to manage properly without being caught and questioned.
As such, things become a bit of a battle between who gets your attention more. At home, you’d run into Choso and he was all over you within seconds, snaking his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him sane, and planting these needy little kisses against your skin.
Then there was Gojo who was basically the same except you had to deal with him whenever you were out. You couldn’t really avoid him on campus because he seemed to be everywhere and whenever he saw you, he’d drag you off to the nearest secluded place, and then his lips were on yours before you even realized. And with Gojo, it’s hard because it almost feels right to kiss and make out with him.
Gojo is truly indescribable for you. Being around him just gives you this entirely different feeling in your chest in comparison to other people you’ve been around. And although deep down you kinda disliked how whenever you were around him things started to always lead to the same thing– his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body, etc… you can’t say you hated it.
It was rather excessive though. Whether it be in that cafe storage room, his car, his apartment, your place (when Choso wasn’t home), or anywhere else, things with Gojo always resulted in him touching and kissing you.
Then, the thing with Choso is that it all felt so wrong in contrast to things feeling ‘right’ with Gojo– and in the weirdest way, it was like a good kinda wrong. You didn’t hate his touches or his kisses either but it made your body burn with guilt. Even so, it’s not like you ever pushed either of the men off of you.
And on top of that, only Choso was aware of the fact that you were basically switching back and forth between him and Gojo but, he didn’t seem to care.
Sure, he said slick shit like, “Think he would be mad if he knew you let me do this?” while having you pinned to the living room couch, grinding his semi-hard cock down against you instead of finishing the movie you two were supposed to be watching but, what can you say? Choso has a weird way of seducing you.
It’s all in the way he teases and taunts you, the way he’ll piss you off just to ‘make up’ for it with a sensual hug and an ‘apologetic’ kiss– all of which always leads to something more. Never sex though.
You took that one morning with Gojo as a warning. Perhaps the universe had been trying to tell you something at the time and whatever it was, you weren’t going to ignore that sign and go and sleep with Choso again. Yeah, you and Choso make out and you let him dry hump you every now and then but you always find some sort of excuse to make him stop (or just tell him to stop and he does).
Choso doesn’t question it either. It’s like he was satisfied with the fact that he could even get you to the point where you had to tell him you couldn’t sleep with him. He seemed content with his privilege of kissing you alone, knowing that every time you go out to hang with Gojo, you’re probably still thinking of him since it all makes you feel guilty.
It’s a bit fucked up, sure, but Choso doesn’t care one bit. Whatever the two of you had going on, he liked it and didn’t want it to end. You could go out and do the same with anyone else but it didn’t matter, Choso knows you’ll still come home to him at the end of the day.
A real problem only came about when the relationship between you and Gojo finally progressed.
· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·
October had rolled around and whatever you had going on between the two guys was still happening. Somedays you let Choso be all over you and other days you let Gojo be the lucky guy. Then there were days where you just didn’t want either of them all over you but still, you were switching from guy to guy and you couldn’t really escape that fact.
Now, the month of October is a particularly important month to this story because that’s the month when you finally decide to start putting your foot down with Choso. No, you didn’t completely stop letting him flirt with you and touch on you but things would only go so far.
To put things in perspective, you hadn’t had sex since that night with Choso. It was almost like you couldn’t. You had opportunities to do so with either of the guys at any point but with Gojo, there was always a hickey on you that you didn’t want him to see, and with Choso, you didn’t want your guilt of it all to consume you even more than it already was.
You juggled all this rather well up until the end of that fall month, or, more specifically, up until the day before Halloween.
It was yet another Friday afternoon and you and Gojo were currently seated inside that lovely cafe he works at. The establishment was rather lively but Gojo was taking his break and in doing so, he decided to sit with you while you study on your laptop for some test you have.
There wasn’t much talking between the two of you at the moment but neither of you minded the lack of speech, it was comforting to simply be in one another’s presence. Given that, Gojo was pretty occupied on his phone since the last time he’d said something to you, tapping away at his screen just as you were on your laptop up until he glanced up at you with that little glint in his eyes.
You barely get the chance to acknowledge his gaze on you before his mouth was opening, “Hey, are you busy tomorrow?” Gojo questions as he clicks his phone off and places it down, leaning in a bit to really gain your attention.
You’re slow to lift your eyes from your laptop and to his face but when you’re finally looking at him, he smiles at you. “Uhm, I don’t think so, no. Why? You wanna do something?” You reply and quiz in return before sitting back in your seat.
The sudden conversation was a perfect distraction from the draining schoolwork in front of you so you were silently thanking Gojo for talking again, even though his rambling does get on your nerves from time to time. “Yeah, actually. There’s this party tomorrow, wanna go with me?” He offers.
Brows lifting in curiosity, you reach for your nearby latte and question the man further, “Isn’t tomorrow Halloween?”
“It is,” Gojo nods as he moves to rest his cheek against his knuckles.
You’re quick to put two and two together, “So, is it a Halloween party?”
“Yeah, a costume party,” A smile spreads across his face and you can tell he’s clearly excited about this.
“Ohh, sounds fun!” You exclaim. Gojo watches the way your eyes light up whilst you begin to ramble on a bit from there, “I can’t really remember the last time I went to a party buuut dressing up and dancing for a few hours with you doesn’t sound so bad.”
Almost in awe, his smile deepens and those dimples of his begin to present themself, “Yeah?”
You nod, “Mhm, what’re you gonna go as?”
“Not sure yet,” Gojo shrugs and his eyes fall on your lips wrapping around your straw as you take a sip of your drink, “I was gonna go shoppin’ tomorrow for somethin’.” He hums casually with little to no attempt to avert his gaze.
Nodding again, you swallow your small sip and swipe your tongue across your lips, “The chances of you finding anything good on Halloween night is really slim, y’know that right?”
He can’t help but smirk before lifting his gaze to your eyes, “Nahh, I have my ways.”
“Uhuh…” You muse skeptically, “Well, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find anything decent so-”
“We can go costume shopping together, silly girl.” He interrupts.
A smirk plays against your lips, “Y’know Satoru, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a thing for spoiling me…”
Gojo is quick to laugh at that, “Huuuh?” He breathes out dramatically, “What on earth makes you say that?”
“When you invited me to that gala, you offered to buy me something to wear then too,” You remind him, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly as you both smile at one another.
“Okay, perhaps I like buyin’ you things,” As he says that, he goes to elaborate a little more– explaining how he likes seeing the way a woman’s eyes light up whenever they’re given the opportunity to having things purchased for them. And when it comes to you specifically, Gojo is more than happy to buy you anything you could ever think of.
You steadily move to shut your laptop and focus yourself on the small talk with Gojo, happily listening to him go on about how much he’d love to watch you try on different outfits for him.
As the conversation carries on, you soon begin to think back to the start of the talk– the Halloween party. “Okay so, who’s party even is this?” You ask once the laughter from whatever Gojo’s last silly comment was dies down.
His brows raise a bit, “Uhhh, that’s a good question actually.”
You scoff, “You don’t even know who’s hosting the party you planned on attending?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal and glances away in thought, “Nono, I know whose party it is, I jus’ forgot her name.” Gojo explains, his eyes steadily landing on something somewhere behind you, “I think it was-”
“Hori!” Some voice shouts not too far behind where you and Gojo are seated, “Please, shut up about the guy for just one second.”
Naturally, given Gojo’s lack of finishing his statement and the way his eyes are locked on something behind you, your first instinct is to turn back to the source of the voice and person in question– Hori.
Once your eyes land on what he’d been looking at, you spot two women walking toward the rather long line at the register, your eyes quickly moving to study the faces of the two individuals.
Blonde hair is the first thing you notice, accompanied by the prettiest doe-brown eyes (second to Choso’s when he’s pleading for something from you) you think you’ve ever seen. You almost couldn’t take your eyes off the woman despite her looks being rather generic. Perhaps it was the amount of pink she was wearing or the picture-perfect smile plastered across her face but either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away just yet.
Next to her was a, noticeably short, woman with deep violet-shaded long hair, bangs, and a large unique scar running across her face. Now she was gorgeous. She had this pretty bow accessorizing the back of her hair, was noticeably stylish, and-, well, despite the frown on her face, she was quite the sight for sore eyes.
Your heart practically thumps out of your chest when you and her meet eyes from across the cafe for a mere moment.
“Utahime please, jus’ hear me out for a second longerrr,” The blonde exclaims in an attempt to gain her friend’s attention once more, “He hasn’t texted me back in like, three days but-, I’m telling you he’s interested in me!”
The darker-haired woman, who you now mentally note as Utahime, shakes her head in disapproval, “Guys are really simple, y’know. If he hasn’t texted you in three days, he’s probably not as interested in you as you think he is.”
“But he is,” Hori whines, “I was even with him the other day trying to get him to come to my party, and he-”
“That’s her,” Gojo suddenly says to you, breaking you away from your eavesdropping and earning a turn of your head. The rest of that bubbly blonde’s sentence goes unheard as your attention is set back on the man in front of you.
You blink, “Which one?”
Gojo’s expression seems dimmer than it was moments before, “The loud blonde one, Hori,” He explains with a nod of his chin toward her.
“Oh,” You hum in response.
Something about that name seemed familiar but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it just yet. Hori. Where had you heard that name before? It feels like you should know who she is but you’ve never even seen the girl ‘til now so-
All at once, it hits you. Hori, the name of the woman who’d texted Choso that one morning. She’s the same person you think Choso’s been hanging out with a couple of times lately.
You spend a moment longer thinking about her and how small of a world you seem to live in with the way everyone’s connected up until the sound of your name slips from someone’s lips. Blinking out of your thoughts, you’re quick to glance back yet again and listen in on the person who’d just uttered your name.
“That’s her name right? That one girl he’s always walking around with??” Hori asks Utahime blindly, having not noticed you sitting not that far away from where they’re standing in line.
Utahime groans, “Could you be any louder,” She huffs before nudging her ignorant friend on the arm.
Hori blinks, “Wha-” She’s cut off by Utahime nodding her head in your direction, “Ohhh!”
“Idiot,” Utahime sighs and then glances at you, meeting your gaze for yet a second time and making you swallow thickly.
Her stare is unwavering, as if making eye contact with you doesn’t bother her in the slightest. Meanwhile, you’re quick to revert your eyes back to Gojo and whatever he’s saying to you.
Despite your eyes on him, your ears can’t help but twitch as you continue listening in on the conversation taking place between Hori and Utahime, “Damnit, she’s even prettier than I thought she was,” Hori mumbles to herself.
Utahime shrugs, “Bit of an understatement but, alright.”
Looking to her friend, Hori tilts her head, “Huh? What do you mean ‘understatement’?”
“I mean,” Utahime clicks her tongue, “She’s kinda h-”
“Oh my God, wait, is that Gojo with her?!” Hori interrupts rather loudly as her feet move seconds later and she begins to approach the two of you.
Left alone, Utahime groans while she keeps her place in line and watches her friend skip over to you and Gojo.
“Gojo! Hi!” Hori greets as she stands to your right and Gojo’s left, smiling brightly at the man.
You move to quietly sip on your latte as your eyes travel back and forth between the two– noticing that the normal sparkle in Gojo’s eyes is gone completely.
“Hey,” He hums, his voice filled with a clear disinterest in wherever the conversation was going.
Hori is so clearly oblivious to his soured mood due to her presence because her smile only widens, “You never answered my text,” She says casually before tilting her head, “Are you coming to my party tomorrow or not?”
“Uh,” Gojo breathes out, glancing at you, “That depends.”
The woman raises a brow and slowly follows his gaze to you, making you stiffen as all the attention lands on you. You gulp, “D-Depends on what?” You ask, confused as to why he’s staring at you like he needs your permission or something.
He doesn’t move his eyes from yours for even a second, “Are you gonna come with me?”
You never really answered him earlier, although it was implied so, you just shrug, “I dunno,” Your eyes flicker over to Hori, “Am I invited?”
Hori just stares at you for a moment, her eyes all over your face and the way you’re staring up at her. You can’t really tell what she’s thinking since she has this airhead look on her face so your brows furrow after a moment of no response.
To which you lean a bit closer and blink a few times, making her snap out of her little daze, “Y-Yeah, of course! Anyone can come-, sorry. I just-,” She smiles and looks down for a moment, “You’re really pretty.”
Your heart warms in your chest at the sudden compliment and you’re quick to return a smile, “Aw, thank you.”
She lifts her gaze from the floor and then brings her hand up a bit to fidget with her nails, “No problem. And uh, are you friends with Choso Kamo?”
You arch a brow at the mention of your best friend, “Yeah, why?”
“Well… I was actually wondering if you could uhh..” She trails off as if she’s nervous to ask her question.
“She wants you to convince Choso to come to her party,” The sound of Utahime’s voice startles you a bit and your eyes are quick to snap over to the woman who now has two drinks in her hand. Even up close, it’s like she only got more attractive, a waft of her floral perfume simmering into your nose as she stands beside her friend, “You’re the one he’s always with, right?” Utahime asks you.
All you can do is hum, “Mhm..”
She openly allows her eyes to trail up and down your seated figure, “I can see why he won’t shut up about you.”
Alarms go off in your head at the sound of that and your brows twist up, your lips parting to say something, only to be cut off by Hori turning to her friend, “Wait what? You talk to him?!”
Utahime shrugs like it’s no big deal and hands the blonde one of the drinks in her hand, “Uhuh, I have like three classes with the guy.”
Dropping her jaw dramatically, Hori gasps, “You never told me that.”
“You never asked,” Utahime chuckles.
“But-”
“Anyway though,” Dark brown eyes focus on you once again and Utahime grins kindly, “Think you can do her a favor and convince him to come?”
You smile, “Mind if I ask why?”
Utahime sighs and her explanation sounds almost as if she were pleading with you, “Cause’ this girl won’t shut up about him ‘nd I’m so tired of hearing her complain.”
At that, you chuckle. In the strangest way, she and Hori remind you of you and Choso. “Then yeah, I’ll try. But, fair warning, he doesn’t like listening to me so…”
She shrugs, “Trying is good enough for me, thanks.”
You nod and the two of you hold eye contact for a moment longer than normal, to which Gojo clears his throat obnoxiously and earns the attention of the three of you, “Ahem, if you two don’t mind,” He huffs, sizing Hori up and down and then glancing to Utahime, “We were in the middle of talking before you guys came over here.”
He’s so clearly bothered by their presence but his distaste toward them goes entirely over Hori’s head as she opens her mouth to say something to keep the conversation going.
Luckily for Gojo, Utahime hooks an arm around her friend and speaks before she gets the chance to, “Sorry for interrupting you two. We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” She dismisses, moving to drag Hori away from you guys.
Hori tries to pull away but it’s no use, “H-Hey! I still wanted to-”
“Read the room,” Utahime huffs as she drags her away and toward the exit of the cafe.
You laugh softly at their dynamic as you watch them walk off, your eyes lingering on the two for way longer than they should’ve been. Up until Gojo groaning catches your attention once more…
“She’s so fucking annoying,” He breathes out, folding his arms over the table and dropping his head down.
You turn your head to him, “Which one?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He mumbles, his voice muffled by his hoodie, “Hori.”
His antics make you giggle, “Then why’re you goin’ to her party?”
Gojo sighs, “”Cause, unfortunately, she throws the best parties.”
“Does she now?”
“Yeah, me ‘nd Suguru have been to a few.”
You nod, “Oh…”
Gojo shifts the way he has his head so that he can look up at you, “Mhm.”
Only his eyes are peeking out from his folded arms and he does nothing more than gaze at you for a while. At the angle he’s looking at you from, it reminds you of when he was in between your legs with his mouth latched to your cunt. Gojo’s so pretty it’s almost unfair. He just stares at you with those diamond-blue eyes of his, the little twinkle in his irises returning as he admires you.
You can’t help but smile after a minute or two, tilting your head and trying to ignore the way his unwavering gaze makes you self-conscious, “What?”
It’s slow but, Gojo lifts his head from his arms and raises a hand up to your face, taking your chin in between his thumb and index and pulling your face a bit closer to his. Then, his eyes slip down to your mouth and he slides his thumb up to trace the outline of your lower lip.
Your eyes wander elsewhere to see if anyone is paying attention to his sudden public display of affection– he doesn’t usually act like this when there’s people around so it was kinda strange for him to-
“I wanna kiss you,” Gojo voices out to you.
Your gaze is quick to return to him and you smile against his thumb, “Something stopping you?”
He lifts your chin slightly and then weighs his thumb on your lower lip, dragging it down and revealing your bottom row of teeth. “Yeah,” He whispers, “If I kiss you now I’ll only want more of you.”
Gojo lets his thumb slide off of your lip completely just to watch the way it falls back into place perfectly.
You then smile, “And what’s wrong with that?”
“I gotta get back to work in a few minutes,” He reminds you as he draws his hand away from your face entirely.
“Riiight-”
“Plus, you’ve been cockblocking me lately so uh,” Gojo shrugs before slumping back into his seat and lifting his arms up into the air to stretch.
You scoff, “I have not.”
He laughs, “You have. Jus’ last week when we were in my room, your excuse was that you had to get home to finish some paper…”
“It was due in an hour!” You exclaim, smiling at the man.
Gojo tilts his head, “Coulda’ finished it while I ate you out or something.”
You roll your eyes, “I wouldn’t have been able to focus, Satoru.”
“Yeah you would’ve,” He argues.
“No, I wouldn’t have,” You refute in return.
“I mean,” His shoulders lift into a casual shrug, “We can always test that theory tonight.”
Your voice falls flat, “No.”
Gojo tosses his head back and groans dramatically, “Seeee? Cockblocking me again.”
“You’re being dramatic, no I’m not.”
“Y’know what, you’re right,” He huffs.
“I know I’m right-”
“I can jus’ go find someone else to satisfy my needs.”
You choke, a cough escaping your throat as your words fall from your lips in a stammer, “W-What?”
Gojo raises a brow and looks at you, “You heard me. I’ll go find someone else to sleep with,” He repeats, biting back a smirk, “There are plenty of women I’ve been rejecting for you.”
Those words give you this weird feeling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel some type of way at the mere thought of Gojo being with someone else. And yes, you are well aware of how hypocritical that is but, in that moment you couldn’t care less.
“I mean, hey, if you go sleep with someone else, I’ll jus’ go fuck Choso,” You blurt out faster than you had time to think.
Tension fills the air in an instant and you probably shouldn't have said that but by the time you realize, the words were already floating in the air and echoing in Gojo’s mind.
The male noticeably freezes, “What?” He asks as his face shifts to a scowl.
You swallow but try to stand your ground, “...I said what I said.”
It’s quiet for a second until Gojo laughs, clearly annoyed, “You won’t.” He hums lowly, eyes darkening as they settle on yours.
Matching his energy completely, you fold your arms, “Are you testing me?”
Gojo glares at you, “No, sweetheart. I dare you to.”
Your lips part to say the words ‘I already did’ but you’re thankfully cut off by someone chiming in.
“You could always sleep with me, sweet thing,” Shoko suddenly chimes in, attempting to lighten the mood and revealing the fact that she’s been listening in on your conversation.
Both you and Gojo look over at her and she smiles innocently at you, “No? Hah, alright then, my bad..”
With a sigh, you shake your head and then move to grab your laptop and bag on the nearby floor. Gojo returns his attention to you and your sudden movements. He eyes your facial expression down, noticing the pinch of your brows and the clear annoyance etched onto your face.
He can’t help but smirk at the realization you’d grown jealous of something he hadn’t even done yet. “You mad?” He hums almost provokingly.
You pause in your movements and send him a blank look, “No.”
Gojo tilts his head, “You look mad.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
You groan, “I’m going to be if you keep saying stupid shit,” You huff as you swipe your bag up and slip your laptop inside, moving to stand to your feet and zip your bag closed.
Then, you’re quick to toss the bag over your shoulder and turn. Gojo stands when you do, quickly stepping to your side of the table and planting himself right in front of you before you even get the chance to walk away.
All you can do is sigh and look past him, “Move.”
“Why’re you upset?” Gojo asks.
“I’m not.”
He rolls his eyes, “You’re a terrible liar, sweets. Talk to me, what’s wrong?”
Slowly, your eyes trail up to his face, “Nothing.”
He puts this little pout on his face and leans closer to you, “I was just jokin’, y’know…” Then, Gojo reaches for one of your hands and brings it up to his face, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “I only want you.”
The combination of his soft-spoken words, the intimate eye contact, and his gestures make your heart throb.
“I’m serious,” Gojo continues, “I know we’re not dating or anything but, I’m not interested in anyone else aside from you. I only said that to mess with ya’.”
“Prove it,” Leaves your lips faster than a thought forms and it makes Gojo halt.
He blinks, “Prove it how?”
You shrug, “I dunno, jus’ prove it.”
At that, he lets out a little hum before dropping your hand. Then, he moves to place his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in close and leaning in to kiss you. Your lashes flutter shut as his lips soon press into yours.
Gojo’s lips are gentle against yours and you slowly realize this is his first time kissing you in public like this. Normally, he pulls you off to the side where barely anyone can see you two but right now he was kissing you in the middle of the cafe he works at like it was nothing.
His lips steadily detach from yours and his voice is quiet in a whisper, “I only want you,” Gojo repeats.
You can’t help but bat your lashes at the man for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his lips having been on yours in public. Oh, you felt like you could dissipate into thin air with the way that just made you feel.
Grinning, you shrug, “I’m sorry about what I said.”
Gojo shakes his head, “Don’t be, I was the one tryin’ to provoke you anyway.”
All at once, you’re reminded why your feelings for the man began to develop in the first place. Everything in the way he touches you, looks at you, understands where and when he’s wrong, every interaction, and literally his entire being gave you butterflies and throbs in your heart you hadn’t felt in a long time.
Gojo leans in to give you one more peck and when he pulls away, he smirks, “Plus, you wouldn’t do that anyway, right?”
You give him a dumbfounded look.
“…Sleep with him, I mean,” Gojo clarifies.
To which you clear your throat, “Oh… No, I’m uh, I’m not interested in Choso so…” You shrug, “And he’s an asshole who gets on my nerves.”
Those blue eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary and you almost feel like he’s studying you closely…
But, after a second he nods and pulls away from you.You really shouldn’t have ever mentioned sleeping with Choso, even if it were only to get back at what he said to you. It only led to you lying to him and that made your chest burn with guilt all over again. You hated lying like that but the truth would’ve only ruined whatever it is you had going for you thus far so… for now, you’ll avoid telling him about it.
❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.
❧ Content | language, rough sex, degrading, praise, overstim, edging, teasing, taunting, Choso's mean because yes, filth, praise, pussydrunk Choso, feral activities, etc.
❧ Word Count | 5.6k
❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.
| Chapters mlist |
——Clothes scattered to the floor, soft pants leaving both of your lips while his two big hands grip the underside of your thighs and spread you nice and wide for him. You always knew your best friend was stupidly attractive but it’s entirely different when you’re about to have sex with him.
His hips were easing back and forth, boxers long discarded and the fat tip of his swollen cock rubbing all in between your slicked folds. And there you are with your hands above your head where he last told you to keep them, watching him with a gaping mouth as he sits there and teases your cunt.
Choso’s body was slightly glistening in that dim lighting of his bedroom, his abs tensing along with his eyebrows every time he pushed his hips forward just to watch his flushed tip slip against your pussy. The messy little sound of your slick wetting up his cock drove both you and him wild.
He was such a damn tease. So mean with the way he’d barely push the tip of his cock inside you, just to draw his hips back and bite his lip at the way his tip slides against your sloppy slit. He was driving you insane.
So much so that you soon brought one hand down to attempt to relieve yourself, Choso’s dark brown eyes flicker up to your face in warning, “What’d I tell you about that, hm?”
You let off a sweet yet desperate whine, “Choso, please?” Your hand goes idle and he smirks.
Nodding his chin at your hand now out of place, “Put your arm back where I had it, princess. M’not gonna tell you again,” Choso says in that deep voice of his. Then he’s easing his hips back again, angling himself so that his cock pressing right against your needy hole, “This is where you want me, right?”
“Mhm,” You hum, pulling your lower lip into your mouth. This was almost embarrassing— your hands above your head, his hands on your thighs, and only his hips being in control of how his cock angles against you. “Cho, hah… you said you’d treat me like a slut so-“
“No,” He interrupts so casually as he glances down to the obscene display of his cock rutting in between your folds, “I said I’d treat her,” Choso spits straight down onto his tip, tilting his head and smirking as he makes even more of a mess below, “Like a slut. Big difference, princess.”
You merely pout at that, your eyes softening in utter desperation as you lift your hips slightly— attempting to feel more of him, “Either way,” You huff softly, “You said you wanted to fuck me so just…”
“Just what?” Choso breathes out, dragging his heavy cock back and forth against you once more.
You swear you’ve been pleading for him for the past thirty minutes or so, “Fuck me-“
Choso smirks, “Beg for it,” He says suddenly as he shifts his angry cockhead away from you for a second just to tap his tip against you moments later, “Since you want it so badly, beg for it-, beg for me.”
You hate the way his lowly spoken words have you complying without thought, “Please?” Such a light little whine was hushed out and there he was biting back a groan.
He couldn’t even bring himself to deny you any further. As much as he enjoys teasing you and rubbing his leaky tip up and down your sloppy folds, feeling you twitch against him every time he speaks, leak with every glance, and whine at the faintest loss of him— Choso doesn’t think there’s anything that compares to the way you sound gasping out his name as he finally angles his cock into you.
And sure, you had plenty of time to admire his cock before he started pushing into you but fuck the last thing you were expecting is this mean curve of his. Pushing in inch by inch, his brows tensing and jaw-dropping, Choso was on the verge of moaning at how you felt around him.
Hell, he practically loses himself completely. His hands move away from your thighs and he leans down to you, feeling your legs wrap around his waist as he keeps pushing in and in and in. You could hear his breath hitching as his cock slides deeper inside you but what really caught you off guard is his struggle to talk.
Choso’s hair is still a complete mess and you notice how breathy his voice is, “Oh fuck,” He gasps with his brows fully tense, “You’re so-, agh… so fuckin’ warm, shit.”
And you’re both adjusting to each other perfectly fine at first. He’s easing himself in and out of you carefully, pulling his hips back and then rolling them back down slowly-, carefully even. That is, until his eyes focus on your face. Maybe it was the way your eyes hazily met his, or the sound of you gasping every time he humped his heavy cock deeper into you but, either way, it makes him groan.
“Fuuck,” Choso drags out, “Look at you,” He coos, tilting his head as his eyes rake up and down your expression, “Y’look so pretty like this,” He suddenly compliments.
Both his tone and oddly kind words make your cunt squeeze around him, earning a hiss from his mouth. “You only think m’pretty when you’re fucking me?” You whisper almost jokingly.
Choso shrugs and your little joke makes him smile, “I’ve called you pretty before, haven’t I?” He murmurs back to you.
As this little chat continues, he’s slowly picking up his pace inside you, “N-Not recently, no,” You stammer.
“Well, I’d keep complimenting you but uh,” Choso clicks his tongue and you feel his hands latch onto your thighs again. Then, in an instant, he’s moving your legs up and pressing them down against your chest, “That’s not how you wanna be treated tonight, now is it?” He finishes.
You would’ve answered him normally but the way his cock plunges deeper inside you, hitting somewhere all too sweet, has you choking on whatever it is you were gonna say. And he notices it too, the slight shift in your breathing, the way a whine gets caught in your throat, and your cunt clenching around him as if you didn’t want him to move.
“You’d much rather be treated like a lil’ whore f’me, right?” Choso huffs out rhetorically. Of course, he expects no real answer from you while he stuffs you full of his cock, ignoring how tightly you’re clamping around him.
The sounds are so filthy too— your cunt was soaked, sopping even, as he thrusts his swollen cock into you. That syrupy squelch had Choso in a goddamn trance, his eyes flickering back, the veins decorating his muscular arms tensing as he fucks himself deeper and deeper inside you. Choso’s lips part at some point and he groans, feeling your legs dangle against his shoulders and the way your pussy narrows around his thick shaft.
The sheets below were already wet from you, followed by that obscene sound of slick coating his curved cock as he angles it into you. Your moans were being drowned out by the melodic sound of your pussy and it had Choso in a chokehold.
Maybe it’s because you’re his best friend and he’s known you for about eight years but, Choso seems to know your body like the back of his hand. Shifting himself right where you need him, feeling your pussy gush as his tip knocks into your sweet spot repeatedly.
“C-Choso,” You gasp, “Fuck, mmgh…”
Choso shakes his head almost in disbelief suddenly, “Comin’ in my room late at night,” He starts off, losing himself in his replay of how the two of you ended up like this in the first place, “Askin’ me for ‘advice’ knowing damn well all you needed was for someone t’fuck you properly,” He grunts out that last word with a heavy thrust, watching your eyes flicker back.
While your eyes lull back, you’re gasping out a teasing little response back to him, “Don’t ah-, a-act like you didn’t want the-, hah… same thing, Cho.”
His lips twitch at the sound of your breathy voice, his hips growing more calculated with you, “Huh?”
“You’ve probably been f-fantasizing about this all d-day…” Your bottom lip slips into a slight pout as you hush those words out to him.
All Choso can do is smile at that. He can’t exactly say he hasn’t thought about this very moment once or twice today, “Think so?” He soon muses.
Waiting for your answer, he watches the number of times your face twists up– studying you, fucking his fat cock into you harder, holding back his noises, and-, hell, he was nearly holding his breath just so he could savor every little sound that leaves those pretty lips of yours.
“Uhuh…” You eventually gasp out.
Choso blinks away from his intense focus to the sounds he can get out of you, “What’s it feel like?”
Your brows twist up and your eyes flicker as you struggle to process his question, “Hm?”
“Does it feel like I’ve been fantasizing ‘bout this all day?” Choso emphasizes with a particularly hard thrust, “Huh?”
And oh how you love teasing your best friend, even when his cock is a hefty seven inches deep inside you, “N-No..” You mumble to the man, watching the immediate way his face twists up.
“No?” Choso practically scowls at you, “So I’m not fuckin’ you hard enough?”
A small little smile spreads across your face as your glossed-up eyes meet his, “Y-You could… mmgh, you could be fuckin’ me harder.”
Choso’s practically speechless for a second, continuing with his same ‘steady’ pace as he cocks his head to the side, “This isn’t enough for ya’, huh?”
“N-No, I just-“
“Greedy girl,” Is the last thing he growls out before pressing his weight down against you.
The underside of your thighs sandwiches against his chest and you swear you feel his cock twitching wildly inside you. Choso’s hips pivot down against you as he positions himself to be a bit more firm with the way he’s fucking you.
Your eyes nearly cross at how he has you folded up and unable to move, forced to take every unforgiving inch of his angry curved cock. Then he has the nerve to stare you dead in your eyes with his low-lidded ones, deep brown eyes dilating the longer he looks at you.
“Oh fuck,” You gasp, feeling him slip his thumb in between the two of you and down to your clit.
Choso smirks again, “Look at you— fuckin’ droolin’ f’me,” He points out as his gaze dances down to the small trail of saliva leaving your lips.
You were almost completely out of it, clenching around him so desperately, moaning so loud that the neighbor would be ready for the noise complaint within twenty-four hours, and making this fucking face that had Choso pounding you down into his bed.
God if you weren’t every bit of sexy at this very moment.
“Choso,” You choke out as he thumbs your clit in small merciless little circles and doesn’t let up on you for even a second.
“Don’t Choso me,” He scoffs, “You wanted me to go harder ‘nd that’s what I’m doin’.”
The two of you are pretty sure his words are going through one ear and out the other because with the way your eyes are lulling to the back of your skull and you’re left under him just gasping and gaping with every thrust— you’re both positive that you’re pretty cockdrunk at this point.
How could you not be? You don’t know if you’d say it aloud but fuck is Choso’s cock huge. He hits all the right places and more, places you didn't even realize you had. And to make matters worse, he knows what he’s doing too. He just eyes the way your lashes flutter, listens for a specifically pitched whine of his name to leave your throat, and feels that soul-sucking grip you have around his dick every time he tries to tug his hips back— all of which lets him know he’s doing something right.
But then again, the sound of you blabbing out things like, “Feels so g-good, hah..” Assures him as well.
To which he lets his little ego present itself to you, “Oh I know it does, princess.” Choso whispers, tipping his head down a bit to lick that earlier slip of drool from off of your chin.
You pay almost no mind to it though, too distracted by that ego of his, “Cocky hgnh, b-bastard.”
“Hm?” Choso hums before softly kissing at the corner of your lips and whispering yet again, “What was that?”
“You heard me.” You grit out.
He can’t help his grin. Maybe your voice turned him on or something because every time you said something, especially if it was something teasing, his cockhead is just dripping inside you and you can feel his veins throbbing against your plush walls.
“Nah, repeat that f’me,” He hums, slowing his pace ever so slightly, “Cocky what?”
“C-Choso-,” You gasp again as the creaking of the bed slows and his thumb rolls upwards against your clit.
He kisses the edge of your mouth again, “Say it again. C’mon, lemme hear you this time.”
You moan softly, feeling his cock curve right into where you needed him most, “Bastard, hah..”
“I’m no bastard, baby. Cause if I was…” He pauses to take a breath before smirking, “I’d do somethin’ like this,” And then his cock slips out of you completely and you nearly spasm.
The mean loss of him so suddenly had you on the verge of tears. Gasping a whiny little, “Put it back in, Cho. Pleease?”
To which he just decides to be an asshole for a bit longer and thrust his bulging cock against your throbbing cunt instead of inside you. “Put it back in, huh? But I thought I was a bastard, princess?”
“Choso, p-please,” You whisper. You were about to lose your damn mind, he was exactly where you needed him and now your cunt’s just clenching around nothing, “I-I’m so close.”
“Yeah?” Choso responds as if he didn’t know that already, “You were ready t’cum f’me?”
You nod desperately, “Uhuh.”
Then he’s leaning up, easing his weight off of you as he sits back on his heels. “So you’re done bein’ a lil’ brat then, right?” He asks with a little huff.
As if not to have him get too far away from you, you ease your legs down from your chest and shift closer to him. “Mhm,” You hum mindlessly with a cute attempt at reaching your hand down for his cock again.
Choso’s eyes follow your hand almost in a daze, mesmerized by how needy you are for him, “Promise?”
“Pinky promise Cho, now please..” You huff.
“Ready to take all of me like the good slut you promised to be f’me?” He asks almost finally. Then, he’s reaching for your hips and repositioning both of you— flipping himself over and pulling you on top of him, “Hm?”
Your lashes bat as you’re repositioned to straddle him so quickly, “Y-Yes Choso.” You stammer with your eyes all over how he looks below you.
With his hair all laid out against the mattress, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he takes, his body slick with sweat, and muscular arms at his sides as he grabs a steady hold of your hips.
Then you’re looking down and spotting his cock— watching how it twitches so aggressively with nothing more than a mere glance from you, eyeing down how cum leaks from the slit of his blushing cockhead, and practically drooling all over again. And not in only one place because you think you just got impossibly wetter from the sight of him underneath you like this.
“Well?” Choso breathes out before moving to put his hands back behind his head, “I was tryin’ to be nice for once, princess. If you want it so bad, stop starin’ ‘nd just t-,” He stammers off with a throaty groan as your fingers wrap around his cock so suddenly, “T-Take it.”
Was this his way of submitting to you? You almost smirk at the thought of that alone, adjusting yourself above him so that your pussy is hovering right over his tip, grazing him with your moisture. Choso’s breathing picks up instantly and he almost starts to regret putting you on top of him, almost.
What saves him from that regret is probably how enamoring you look sinking yourself down on his cock. He thinks he sees your pupils dilate the very second his cock slides back inside you and your lips quiver open as you moan his name so damn deliciously.
Shit. Choso was going to let you do your own thing but simply watching you sink down on him so sensually has his hips lifting to meet yours. A pair of hands are soon placed on his chest as you force him to keep still and Choso’s head tips back against his bed, his cock aching inside you.
There was that warmth again, such slick and wet filthy warmth that just surrounds the entirety of his cock in almost one go.
“Oh, fuuuck me,” Choso groans unintentionally, his hands moving from behind his head and right back to your hips.
His sudden grip is so damn tight too, like he’s literally holding on for dear life. And hey, maybe he was. This was an entirely new angle inside your cunt after all. Choso doesn’t know if he’s imagining it but he thinks you got tighter within those few seconds he wasn’t inside you.
What really throws him off is the first rock of your hips against him. Choso lets out the moan he’s been holding in all this time and his hips are lifting again.
“Choso?” You whisper his name so suddenly that it just rips him from his daze completely.
Panting heavier than he remembers, his eyes flutter before they land on yours, “H-Huh?”
You slowly lift your hips up and his eyes drop down to the sight of your puffy lips pulling up off of his cock, revealing a surprising slick of white before you start sinking back down.
“Oh shit,” Choso gasps, realizing he came prematurely from nothing more than the change of positioning alone.
You’ve got the smug look on your face, “D-Did… Did you just…?”
He nods his head and squeezes his eyes shut, “…I did.”
Despite Choso’s sudden release, you nor him exactly stop at that point. If anything, you kinda laugh it off and move your hips gently against him, “Cho, is that all it takes to make you cum?” You suddenly tease.
He rolls his eyes at you and his hands slide up to hold your waist, “Don’t fuckin’ tease me,” Choso gasps slightly, relishing in the slight aftershock of his abrupt orgasm, “You don’t know how-, fuck, how good you feel.”
You drag your fingernail along his sculpted chest, blindly admiring each cut and crease of his abs while your hips idly rock back and forth at such a torturously slow pace. “So tell me then,” You tease, earning a hiss from him as your fingertip flicks over his flushed nipple.
Choso grits his teeth for a moment, lowly eyeing how confident you seem to have gotten. “I jus’ did,” He huffs, “Now stop bein’ difficult ‘nd just fuck-,” His throat clears as he corrects himself, “Ride me.”
You tilt your head at the man and twirl your finger around his all too perky nipple, only teasing him further, “Say please.”
“I’m not beggin’ you to do shit,” Choso huffs.
Such a damn brat he was, even underneath you and panting heavier and heavier each time you toyed with his chest a bit.
“Asshole,” You frown, leaning down to him a bit and causing your hips to lift up off his cock ever so slightly, “You made me beg.”
His lips twitch into a smirk, “Baby, why would I beg for somethin’ I already have?” Then his hands are slipping back down to your hips and he’s pushing you down on him again, “Remember, I’m the one that put you on top of me.”
The way your brows twist up and your face scrunches are all too cute. Choso imagined this moment with you here and there but his fantasies will never compare to the real thing. Especially not with the way he easily guides your hips against him and you just sit there with that scowl on your face, letting him have his way with you even while he’s under you.
“Fuck you,” You whisper while you sit up properly and frustratedly glance down to where you two are connected. The sight below is so damn lewd.
With a messy white ring of cum already collected around Choso’s thick base, your pussy lips stretched just to take every inch of him, and both of you throbbing for more— it was just purely obscene below.
“That’s all you have t’say? ‘Fuck me?’” Choso mocks, raising a brow, “What happened to all that confidence of yours, huh?”
You groan, “Do you ever stop, mmh-, talking?”
He moves to take his hands off of you and prop himself up on his elbows, shaking his head slightly to move some of his messy hair out of his face before cracking a smile, “Why would I?” He then nods his chin toward your lower half, “She likes when I talk.”
As if to fight back with more than just breathy words, your hips jerk forward and earn a quick tensing of his brows in pleasure, “No, ‘she’ would just love if you shut the hell up for one second,” Your words come out almost all at once as you feel his fat tip prodding against that mushy spot inside you again.
“She can come shut me up herself if that’s the case,” Choso taunts with a teasing lick of his lips, “S’that what you want? Wanna come put that pretty pussy on my mouth ‘nd shut me the hell up?”
A whine leaves your throat at the thought alone, your eyes focusing on his lips and that stupid smirk plastered across them. “N-No,” You stammer before pressing your hands flat against his chest again and pushing him down off of his elbows and flat on the bed.
He’s caught off guard all over again because then you’re lifting your hips and slamming them back down on him— forcing a moan from both of you.
Then he’s chuckling breathily, “Fuck, that’ll do it too.” Choso nods, “That’ll shut me up.”
“Yeah?” You huff as you continue with that aggressive bounce up and down on his cock.
Choso tips his head back again and nods once more, “Uhuh, jus’-, ah… jus’ k-keep doin’ that.”
You don’t have to be told twice. It was clear that something about you being on top of him drove him crazier than before. Something about feeling your cunt squeeze every inch of his cock as you lifted yourself, followed by the messy squelch of you plopping back down seconds later had his breath hitching again.
Choso’s no virgin but damn did you make him feel like one. He can hardly think properly as you ride him in earnest, bouncing yourself on his cock so prettily, simply taking what you want from him— hell, all he can think about is you and how well you’re taking him right now.
The heavenly little gasps of his name you keep letting out aren’t helping his situation either. Every little ‘Choso’ or ‘feels s’good’ that pours out of your mouth has his cock dripping against your inner walls again. The creaking of the bed had returned and you both allowed yourself to be as loud as either of you wished.
Surely there’d be a noise complaint from the neighbors the next morning. Especially as you reach your orgasm and your bouncing comes to a slow. Then you’re leaning down to him and he’s wrapping his arms around your waist as yours go around his neck.
Your breaths are shared and he could tell and feel you make a mess all over his cock. You’re panting and trying to keep moving but you just couldn’t do it yourself, you can’t keep going as your legs start to give out on you.
All that talk from before and now look at you— silently begging him to help you maintain your high. And who was Choso to ever deny you of such a thing?
As such, he’s shifting his legs around and planting his feet flat against the bed before he starts fucking his heavy cock up into you. His sudden movement earned a choked gasp of his name from you and he gapes at how your eyes roll back.
His hands move to your hips and you lean up slowly, your eyes hazily meeting his.
Then, Choso’s whispering to you, “Fuck me back, c’mon,” He encourages.
Your arms are a bit shaky from his thrusts but that doesn’t stop you from placing your hands on the bed and keeping yourself stable as you throw your hips back to meet his.
And god did he start to lose his mind again, thrusting-, no, pounding himself up into you over and over and over again like he was possessed. His jaw hangs open, mirroring yours while you two fuck each other stupidly. Had it become a competition or something? Because it damn sure felt like it.
And hey, you and Choso have always been like that. From the day you met to now, whatever you did with one another always became some kinda competition. Not that you were complaining now though, it was working out in your favor— even though he was winning (in a sense) with the way your body goes limp again and you just fall forward against him.
Then Choso’s whispering in your ear, “That’s all you got?” He chuckles, his hands gripping onto your hips tighter as he moves you himself.
You’re panting and whining against him, feeling the constant and relentless prodding of his thick leaky cockhead into the depths of your cunt. Shit, if he couldn’t think properly earlier, you damn sure couldn’t by this point. All you could process was how fucking full you were of him, how every bruising inch fit into you so perfectly over and over, and that filthy sound of your cum and his mixing to create such a big mess around his cock.
“C-Choso,” You gasp out, “Choso-, fuck..”
He hardly even heard your voice at first, too lost in the syrupy trance your pussy had him in before he’s grunting out a lazy response to you, “Huh?”
Then your breath is stuttering, “S-Slow down-, nngh… please?”
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” Choso groans, “I can’t-, fuuck, I can’t slow down, princess. N-Not yet,” He pants, “Just-, hah, jus’ lemme fuck you full again. Mmgh, please?”
You whimper before turning your head to meet his gaze, “T-Thought you weren’t-, ngh, gonna beg for anything?”
He smiles before dropping his eyes to your lips, “Shut up.” Choso hushes out finally before pressing his lips into yours.
You don’t know how he does it or where the hell he gets his stamina from but he’s just doing all the work for you— hands on your hips pushing and pulling you down to meet his thrusts, his own hips piston his cock into you with not one second to catch a breath, and his lips molding against yours as he swallows up every whine and whimper you let out.
Though, as surprising as his stamina and strength are, even he gets tired or frustrated at some point and just flips you both on your sides. Your leg is hoisted up on his hip and he’s just rutting into you like a damn madman, panting hard against your lips while spewing curse after curse about how good you feel around him.
When Choso fucks, he fucks like he’ll never get the chance to do so again, coaxing orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of you to the point where you’re seeing stars and can barely get his name past your lips properly. Listening for that sexy little ah, ah, ah that leaves your throat with every thrust— Choso was tempted to break you in half.
Hell, maybe he already had because you’re choking on your moans, tears are welling up in your eyes, and one moment he’s fucking you while you’re on your sides and the next he’s on top of you again, blindly beating his cock deeper inside you. You swore he was in your lungs at that point because every little gasp you took was of his name.
Your nails were clawing at his back and you couldn’t fucking think. You lost track of how many times you came, all you could see was him and then white, blissful stary white as he hummed out quiet praises and pleadings of you to give him another one.
One more Choso promised, and then his thumb was at your clit again. One more he whispers, and then he’s marking up your neck and lower. Last one he swears, before you miraculously end up on your stomach, taking him ruthlessly from behind as he pushes your face down into the bed.
He was such a fucking liar. Whispering how sorry he was for not stopping yet, even as he kept going. Fuck, he might’ve been addicted. He doesn’t know how many times he came inside you, nor does he care too much because he swears it’s worth it when he pulls his hips back and sees the disgusting slick of pure white coating his cock.
He couldn’t even stop himself for a while, constantly fucking into you faster and then harder. His bed was no longer just creaking but now it was rocking with every thrust. He’s pretty sure he heard something snap but he was too lost in everything that was you to care.
The sight of your ass bouncing back against him made him grunt. He has a hand sneaking underneath you to toy with your clit once more just to watch the way you squirm before you’re coming undone all over again.
Choso groaned at the sight. He’ll never be able to forget how puffy your cunt was, how you twitched when he finally pulled out of you, and the way his cum looked dripping out of your hole.
“Shit,” He whispers, his breathing ragged while he just stared at how badly your legs were shaking, listening to you trying so hard to catch your breath, and gasping softly when your body goes all limp again.
You let out the softest little groan and Choso moved his sights onto the bit of your face he could see. As he did so, he couldn’t help but stare at the rest of you in awe, trying not to smile at the plethora of hickeys and bite marks he managed to leave all over you.
Damn. He really did ruin you.
Even as you lay there completely still, he catches your lashes fluttering before you try to look back at him. You were so beyond fucked out.
Choso swears he’s got little hearts in his eyes as he leans down to you, meeting your gaze up close before kissing you all too softly like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.
Yet, you kiss him back tenderly with what little energy you have left. When he pulls away, he takes in your expression and how tired you looked— appearing as though you were seconds from passing out.
“M’sorry pretty girl,” Choso whispers. The softness in his voice made your heart churn in more ways than one, “I didn’t mean to get carried away like that-“
The way you grin and murmur back to him makes his whole world pause, “S’okay, Cho,” You assure him. Your tone was so light, almost hardly even there. Then there was the way you were looking at him like you loved every second of what just happened and-
Oh god, he almost thinks he’s in l-
You cut whatever thought or feeling that was off with another kiss and that seems to bring him back to reality. Choso’s lashes bat in slight surprise before he settles his gaze on yours.
Followed by that is you letting out a huff and plopping your head back down against the bed. The two of you are still for a moment and Choso even ends up resting on top of you for a while. You both almost fall asleep like that until Choso gets up and stretches.
You had no idea what time it was or how long you and him had been at it but you were much too fucked out to care. Sleep was steady to overcome your senses and you faintly recall Choso talking to you about cleaning up but, you’re pretty sure you fell asleep at some point.
Which left Choso alone to care for you and the mess of his bedroom. Not that he minded.
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanami’s apprentice!reader, virgin!reader, noncon, anal, body morphing ( tentacles, two dicks + some inflation too ), double anal penetration, size kink, mindbreak, bad end, all characters featured are 18+
𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ commissioned by @beebiesworld!! do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3
“Well, you gave up earlier than I anticipated,” the Curse circled you, eyeing your frame up and down like a hungry animal, a wicked grin pulling his features taut, “Such a shame. I was enjoying chasing you around, the smell of your sweat was so sweet, and you seemed so frightened. Instead of fighting me, you tried to run away; are you sure you’re really a Jujutsu Sorcerer?”
there was a faint sound, the clanging of your daggers hitting the concrete ground at your feet, but it sounded so far away. what was really loud, however, was the beating of your heart. it thumped against your eardrums, it drowned out your panting.
how?
how had he caught up with you so fast?
you hold your hands up above your head in defeat, sheepish at just how he stared at your trembling fingers. you didn’t want him to notice them, but they would’ve been impossible to overlook. “I’m… still in training…”
he gasps with an excited grin and draws closer from behind, until the very shape of his lips forming the words against your ear shifts a tendril out of place, “I see, and does your mentor know you’re here?” you want to cower away from the softness of his voice— it was taunting and cruel, but it sounded so sweet.
you shake your head instead of answering him out loud, the lump growing in your throat making it hard to speak. to say that Nanami Kento didn’t know his pupil had wanted to impress him so badly that she skirted his rules and pursued a curse much too powerful and now she was utterly fucked with no way to call for help was too damning for your lips to bring the words to them.
“No?” both hands snake around to grasp at your arms in the air, and keep them there. your muscles all go taut; your blood freezing in your veins. you remembered what Nanami had said about this curse, and his ability to manipulate the body. would he destroy you this way? you close your eyes tight, and await an excruciating death. “He must be worried about you,” the curse croons against the shell of your ear, before puckering to plant a saccharine kiss on your lobe, his body pressing against yours from behind. “That 7:3 Sorcerer.” the way he spat it, like he was drooling acid into your ear, you knew he meant Nanami. he must still be miffed that your mentor had managed to escape him by pulling a cheap shot. lithe, dangerous digits that were cold to the touch drag along your forearms at a slow pace, and he chuckles. it sends a shiver up your spine. “You must know all about me, then. And our little game we played.”
swallowing hard against the lump blocking your throat, you nod, gathering the courage to speak, even as your voice trembled. “I know… I know how you disfigure innocent people. How you torture them… just by touching them…”
“Does that scare you?” he tilts his head, resting his chin against the crook of your neck, and his hands careen around your shoulders, towards your collarbone, “Knowing that I could pull you apart and put you together again, all wrong. I could disfigure you by force, and it would be so painful your mind just might shatter from the trauma—“ though he was threatening to mutilate you, his voice was lighthearted; playful, even. a new level of malicious that you’d never known before. you knew that he could feel the ferocity of your heartbeat, because his digit tips drummed over your chest in the same, frantic rhythm before they tug at your neckline, gentle and teasing, exposing the tops of your heaving breasts. “If I wanted to.” he pokes out his lower lip in a pensive pout, “But then I wouldn’t get to hear you scream, if I turned your brain to soup right away. I shouldn’t transfigure you, should I? I should keep you together, at least long enough to have my fun…”
don’t be a coward. you wanted to tell yourself this over and over, but it was so much easier said than done. he was considering how to torture you as easily as one might consider their options for dinner. “Why are you toying with me?” your hands clench into fists, falling down at your sides once your arms started to ache, “Stop talking about it, already… if you’re going to kill me, just… do it.”
“Kill?” he sounded genuinely puzzled, and that worried you. “Did I ever say kill? I don’t want to kill you, little sorcerer.” you can feel him moving, even as he’s pressed against you, his feet slipping in between yours, kicking them apart until your legs are spread wide, and something— no, two somethings inching up under your pant legs. they felt like twin serpents, forcing their way through the threading until your bottoms were hanging in tatters against your exposed legs. “I want to ruin you.”
your eyes widen, and your gaze drops to your legs— those tentacles were the same shade of ivory that he was, and they were wrapping themselves around the hem of your panties, like fists ready to jerk them down.
you react, but not fast enough. trying to launch yourself forward, both hands flail to shove at the curse, but he’s coiled two more of those strong, thick cords around your torso, cinching your arms in their constriction. the vice knocks the breath out of you, and you would’ve fallen forward had his many extremities not tangled you up— the very tips of them form fingers, one by one, morphing into stitched hands identical to his original ones, and pull at your clothes, jerking your panties halfway down your thighs. as soon as your sex is met with the cold, damp air of the underground, he inhales deep; smelling you. “Ahhh,” he moans, and the tentacles coiled around your midriff begin to pry at your top, pulling it down, “I can’t wait to destroy you!”
your legs tremor, fighting against the inhuman strength of his organic bondage to try and close, to minimize your exploit, but you’re no match for him, not wrapped up like this. you kick your feet, and scream to be let go. but he giggles, watching you fight for your life, and lose. all the while, those many hands of his grope at you, squeezing and kneading your breasts, long fingers running laps between your folds, coaxing your sex to weep, unwillingly.
“Stop—!” you cry out, writhing hopelessly,
“Why? It seems like you like it, your little cunt is wet!”
but you couldn’t bite back the hapless whining that left your lips fast enough, surprised by the stinging sensation when a middle finger and thumb flick at your sensitive clit. “So swollen already,” he laughs, twisting you around to face him. you see now, as you’re hoisted off the ground, that those tentacles ripped his shirt so severely that it’d slipped from his body completely, leaving his rippled torso bare. he was incredibly muscular, and you hadn’t noticed until now, with his silvery tresses hanging over one shoulder, tickling his navel. the feelers winding up and down your legs spread them further into a wide split, opening you up completely, and you wince. you’d trained plenty, physical feats, but you’d never had your muscles forced this tight. “You must be a virgin, you’re so sensitive.” he hums as he steps closer, his clothed groin pressing flush against your most sensitive portion. you can feel a thick tent, hard and pulsating, just beyond the fabric, attempting to push through and get to your sex, and you mewl, shaking your head, mostly to yourself. “I almost can’t believe that 7:3 Sorcerer didn’t fuck you himself, what with how cute this pussy looks when she’s wet. He hasn’t even seen it, has he? I wonder if he wants to?”
both of his hands reach down, pressing his thumbs against your netherlips, and spreads them apart to expose your maiden entrance, his dual-hued gaze sparkling with wicked delight when you whimper a pathetic, ‘No…’ and shut your eyes tight. it wasn’t an answer to his question ( which seemed to be more of a musing than a true inquiry ), but a protest to his touch. you didn’t have to say out loud that Nanami didn’t see you in that light; he was your teacher. you looked up to him, you saw him as a second father. he wouldn’t think like that. not like this monster.
would he?
you feel pressure, unlike svelte fingers, prodding at your sex. your eyelids snap open and you stare down the sea of slithering tentacles in horror. his hands hadn’t moved, your folds still pulled back, but Mahito has rid himself of his pants and, thus, freed a thick, hard cock from its prison. with just a subtle jut of his hips, he’s able to press the bulbous head against your hole. you clench in response, trying to close completely, but his teasing is just powerful enough to stretch you back open. “Hhhnnnn,” Mahito moans, his tongue darting out to swipe along his lips, “Keep clenching, keep trying to keep me out— it makes me want to hurt you.” one of the hands growing from his many appendages reaches up to caress your cheek, which you promptly turn away from. “You’ll only scream louder when I stuff you full of three, big cocks and make that cute, little hole gape for me.”
three.
you tried not to think about that, but there was no denying the creature before you was demonic enough to conjure and do just what he threatened.
“Nanami… he’ll… come to save me…” you insist, squirming. it was a pathetic attempt to instill fear into the curse— try to scare him with what your mentor might do to him if he follows through with his demented plan.
“I hope so!” Mahito chimes, “I hope he’s on his way right now.” with one hand grasping himself at his base, he drags the engorged tip of his cock between your lips, purposefully bumping your vulnerable clit, and watches you bite your cheek to stifle a breathy sound. “He knows where to find us, and you’ll be broken in long before he makes it here, it’ll be so fun to watch him realize just how helpless I’ve made you. Now, I’ve got a tough decision to make,” thoughtful, Mahito tilts his head to one side, and then the other. you open your eyes, reluctantly, and stare down at his cock, rubbing between your folds. he catches you staring and smiles wickedly, wide, “This tight, little pussy… or…” one more swipe, and this time, his tip pressed against your hole and you braced yourself— were about to be invaded for the first time.
for only a fraction of a second.
before he pushes down on his base, sliding his tool just below your sex; it was slick and shiny with your arousal. the thick head sits flush against your anus, and you haven’t the time to protest, though you suck in a flustered breath to do so, before he plunges inside.
a jolt of pain wracks you, and you cry out, voice breaking, when he forces his way into your canal. he was merciless, instantaneous in falling into a brutal, deep rhythm. you were wincing, one eye closed right whilst the other glared daggers up at him, snorting heavy breaths through your nostrils. sealing your tiers muffled painful whimpers, but your toes still curled, your fists still tightened, in protest.
Mahito swoons, seeing how much you hate having him in your guts, and it only spurs him to fuck you harder— deeper. “Yes! That greedy, wet cunt of yours can wait; it’s much more fun stretching you out this way instead,” he’s purring, lids weighing heavily on his duo-toned eyes, “you look so cute, right now, in so much pain. My cock’s just too big for that virgin asshole of yours, isn’t it?” you nod. you knew he wouldn’t care. hell, maybe he would even find amusement in it and fuck you harder just to inflict more pain, but you answer anyways.
helpless.
pathetic.
both hands clasp against your waist, digging his thumbs against your belly to jerk you back to him each time your body lurched from the power of his thrusts. the intensity, the incessant force behind his cock barreling into your insides was all but maddening. he was right. he was too big for you, he was too rough for you. your body was struggling to keep up with all of the sensation and it overloaded your system. that must’ve been the reason you clenched around air, the reason you felt your stomach bunch up in pleasured knots. right?
you could hear the sound— your sex was dripping down over your ass cheeks, and each time the curse drove himself home, his balls smacked against them, sticking just enough to emit a sickening slap. over and over.
Mahito was panting, but you could tell he wasn’t winded because his velocity never even faltered. he pounded you relentlessly, and squeezed your waist so furious that you could swear he was about to fold you in half at the midriff, his thumbs digging into the squishy flesh. “Still a little vice,” he whined, mostly to himself, “I wanted to get another cock in you, but no matter how hard I drill you to stretch this fuckhole out enough, you still grip like crazy. Heh, let’s see if we can fix that, eh?”
“N—no—!” shaking your head, as fervent as you could muster having been fucked halfway into submission, you mewl out in protest. another cock? your stomach flipped. your body couldn’t even handle this one; surely you would split open if forced to take any more. your opposition fell on utterly deaf ears, because it wasn’t even a full moment later that you felt yourself stretch. “S—stop!” clawing at your own fists, you thrash in the tentacles’ grip; at first, it felt like he was prying you open, your battered ring yielding helplessly to the extraction, but then you could feel it on the inside. your walls were stretching. desperate to accommodate the slow-growing bulge you could see peeking against your belly button. he was inflating himself whilst balls deep in your belly, giving you no choice but to extend around him.
“There we go,” Mahito let out a breathy sigh, but never once let slowed the pistoning of his hips. he was determined to hollow you out completely, “open up, cutie. If you don’t, I might just fuck a hole right through you.”
you’d never felt so full before, and you couldn’t imagine anyone had. your body was stretched, your stomach distended in an unnatural bulge that moved, back and forth, with each merciless hip snap. you could feel every inch, thicker than humanly possible, as they pummeled your rectum. you couldn’t enjoy this. not this pain, not this cruelty.
but your pussy was still wet.
was it the never ending fucking, the constant stabbing at every, intimate nerve inside that was numbing your mind? or had you always been destined to enjoy such depravity?
no, it had to be him.
Mahito was fucking the urge to resist right out of you. with each buck of his hips, each time his balls smashed against you, you were losing a part of your brain. the will to fight back had all but dissipated. as did your hatred of the pain he inflicted.
“N— Naa—nami—“ repeating his name under your breath was the only thing keeping your brain from melting away. forcing yourself to remember that your mentor would come for you. he would save you. if you simply held on to your sanity. “H—help— me—“
“Hmm?” Mahito crooned, his tempo changing drastically for once. he was still incredibly deep, but his thrusts were torturous and slow, coaxing weakened whimpers from your lips each time he pressed his abdomen to yours, as flush to you, as deep in your ass that he could go. “You still remember that 7:3 Sorcerer’s name? Even after I’ve stuffed you to your limit?” he didn’t sound at all disappointed. he sounded… impressed. “Fine, I’ll just have to fuck you until your brain turns to mush.” grinning ear to ear, Mahito releases your stomach, leaving one hand tight on your waist, but the other flees to his groin, gripping the base of a brand new cock growing out from his pelvis. perfectly planted just above his original member, this new appendage is already throbbing and erect when it sprouts, drizzling precum over its twin and your abused hole. “You won’t even remember your own name when I shove this one inside of you. Watch!”
he was so fucking right.
your ring protested taking another, girthy intruder, but he was too strong and, in the end, your body had to give in. worming its way inside, the new cock rubs against the other, coaxing a vulgar moan from your assailant, but you didn’t hear it. this new, impossible feeling had hit a switch in your brain. both dicks bulged in your belly, pressing hard against the sensitive wall protecting your g-spot, scrubbing rough, pulsating veins against the nerves. the two sexes were roughly the same length, jabbing deep in your belly, and when he pulled back, and both withdrew before slamming home, you saw stars behind your eyelids as your head dropped back and you yowled.
Mahito must’ve had an amazing memory, because that very same fierce speed and depth returned to his rocking hips in no time, even as you hang— limp and suspended by those extremities. your mouth was agape, so your moans flowed free, but you couldn’t form any real words. you couldn’t cry for help anymore. your eyes rolled around behind twitching lids.
you didn’t remember Nanami’s name.
you didn’t remember your own.
and you couldn’t care. you couldn’t think.
his cocks seemed to be working in tandem, reaching every sensitive cluster of nerves that you had and punching them over and over, an orchestrated attack to shatter your mind. and it was working.
you felt utterly claimed, decimated. his cocks had invaded you, dominated you, broken you. and deep down you knew that, even if someone did rescue your beaten body from this devil before he crumbled it, your brain was long beyond salvation.
“Poor thing,” Mahito moaned, using his now free hand to press down against the dueling protrusions in your belly, but you only squealed louder when he did so, “you’ll never be the same after this, you know? You’ll never recover from me, and we’re not even close to being finished. This is only your ass, cutie, I’ve still got to conquer that little cunt of yours. I wonder if you’ll even hang on long enough for that, or if your body will simply give out.” but, it didn’t matter to him, not really. you knew that he wouldn’t care if you were mangled beyond repair; he’d said himself, he wanted to break you. “No,” he said, finally, within a whiny, ecstasy filled moan, and grasped your face. squeezing your cheeks together hard, he forced your chin into your chest, and kept your visage angled towards him. he didn’t care if you couldn’t see through your glassy eyes, or that you were drooling all over yourself, he cooed at the sight of your loss against him, “I’ll make sure you stay with me, at least long enough to be the prettiest, sloppiest bait for that 7:3 Sorcerer.”
he could hear you.
Nanami could hear you, panting, crying, but as he called your name, he got no response. he repeated it over and over, stampeding the corridors, following the helpless sounds of his pupil. please be okay. he didn’t say it out loud, and he didn’t have to. he was the only one there to hear it.
should he have asked for back up? of course. but, Nanami couldn’t wait for anyone else to come to the rescue, and he had a gnawing fear in his gut that he was already too late.
if Mahito had already gotten to you, then he was getting closer and closer to discovering that you had been transfigured, and he would have to put you out of your misery, and he wasn’t even sure he could do that.
his heart was racing, but as he turned the corner, he saw a crumpled figure on the ground just a short sprint away— it was you, he could tell, but he couldn’t make out much more. he barked your name, hoping to grasp your attention as he approached, but when the visage of you finally cleared, his blood ran icy in his veins.
you were on your knees, completely nude, and yet you were slumped forward with your face against the ground, cheek smushed and distorting your expression, forcing one eye closed. the other was half opened— you looked drowsy. but your thighs quivered. his gaze was immediately drawn to them, and he drew in a harsh breath.
one of your hands worked diligently between your hips, your middle two fingers thrusting deep inside of yourself. with each probe, sticky white dribbles out of your cunt and over your hand and wrist. it’s the same as the substance that oozes from your butthole as it spasms. it must’ve also matched the cocktail of cum and spit smeared across your features, and splattered on your ass cheeks and thighs. you were a complete mess, and you didn’t even seem to care.
you hardly even noticed Nanami when he approached you, still fingering yourself, gurgling moaning, your eyelids flittering. “What…” Nanami’s brows knit together, his teeth grind. “What happened to you?“ he asked, but he was already relatively certain that you wouldn’t be able to answer him. mortified, he steps closer, kneeling down with his arms extended, sleeves rolled up and ready to scoop you into his arms. “I’m going to get you out of here—“
“C—cock—“ you whimper, tongue hanging out of your mouth, and Nanami freezes. “P—please… give me… cock… fuck me… use me… h—hurt me… fff— fuck me, p—please…” sharp eyes widening ever so slightly behind his spectacles, he sews his jaw shut right when he hears that damned familiar giggling from behind him.
Mahito had appeared there, clasping his hands together with glee. “I hope you won’t be too mad at me, but I borrowed your little toy here.” he exclaims, gesturing towards the mess of what’s left of you.
when you hear his voice, you shake harder, fucking yourself more fervently with both fingers, and whimpering, “Please… please… fuck me… fuck me… fuck…”
“The only problem is,” Mahito smirks, a devious twinkle in his eye when Nanami turns around, “I think I broke her.”
The paparazzi were about to earn another paycheck. Gianna could feel her skirt riding up as she slid across the seat to exit the limo, rolling into a tight curl that exposed to anyone observing that she didn't have anything under her little black cocktail dress. The willowy blonde already knew that photos of her immaculately groomed, elegantly tanned cunt would be all over the Internet by tomorrow, and everyone with a keyboard was going to share their opinions about the wealthy heiress who couldn't keep her legs together for two minutes. The whole world thought Gianna Elder was a slut. They didn't know the truth and of course she couldn't tell them.
Even if she could, who would believe her? Who would even care? Gianna's money gave her a degree of insulation from the scorn of men that most women didn't have, but she knew that the vast majority of the same people who readily consumed her scandalous photos and leaked videos and constantly photoshopped images of her in even more flagrantly pornographic poses than even the press could capture would all celebrate if they found out she'd fallen victim to a suave, sinister 'life coach' who was gradually eroding her resistance to even the most degrading of sexual acts. They'd post on social media that she deserved it for being such a slut to begin with, and spank their dicks to whatever hypothetical confession Gianna managed. Honestly, it was better to at least pretend it was all her idea.
And thankfully Kenneth didn't seem to care about her money. Oh, he certainly wasn't averse to sharing her lifestyle, and his hourly fees would have been outrageous even if his special brand of therapy didn't involve hypnotizing Gianna into still-brained bliss while he plowed her soaking cunt with his stiff prick. But this wasn't some elaborate plan to finagle his way into control of her share of the Elder family fortune, and he never so much as hinted at any interest in taking charge of anything other than her wet pussy. No, he simply loved the idea of turning a wealthy heiress into his own vapid, submissive fucktoy whenever he wanted, and displaying the results of his control to an entire planet. That was its own cold comfort.
Because if he had wanted more… if he'd decided he simply wanted to arrange the smooth, uneventful transfer of every last penny of Gianna's assets to his control before stashing her in a spare bedroom somewhere with her ass in the air and her face in the pillow and a discreet little arrangement that made her a whore to the wealthiest men in the world… Gianna still didn't think she'd be able to stop him. He'd gotten his hooks so deep into her mind, bypassing all her critical faculties and associating his silky smooth voice with pure orgasmic pleasure, that she didn't know if there was anything he could do that would trigger true resistance in her anymore. Better to be grateful that his ownership wasn't too onerous, flash her pussy for the tabloids like a good girl, and obey. Even if Gianna knew on some level that her rationalizations were just another tool he used to control her.
She tugged down her skirt with a wink and a flirtatious smile she didn't quite feel. Her chauffeur closed the door to her limo. And Gianna Elder went inside to a special party Kenneth had planned for her and a few of her friends he'd been just dying to meet.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
Le Trio de Fleur (Din Djarin x F!Reader x Paz Vizla)
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 9.1k
Warnings: Dubious consent due to sex pollen. Vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), cream pie, threesomes, cum eating, double penetration, anal sex, thoughts of violence.
Comments: You are a bounty that the Mandalorians have been sent to capture. They track you to an uninhabited planet where you have crashed your ship. You’ve killed the other bounty hunters that have been sent after you, seemingly including another Mandalorian, but they find you in a much more precarious situation due to the local fauna. Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
Paz sits in the co-pilot’s chair, watching as Din navigates the Razor Crest closer to the planet. “It’s uncharted.” The modulated tone is flat as it comes from the other man’s helmet, his visor turned towards the star chart to the left of him as the planet looms outside the ship’s windscreen. “Looks to be uninhabited.” Din grunts, wondering why a planet that had perfect oxygen levels and vegetation to sustain life would be lifeless. Plenty of other planets had been terraformed to sustain the galaxy’s need for resources. Paz scoffs, his own deeper voice growling out from his helmet. “Of course this bounty would choose the uninhabited planet. At least we shouldn’t have a hard time tracking her down.” You were a bounty that no one else would take, several bounty hunters not coming back at all after Karga had given out the puck with your information. It was bare, not much known about you except for your name and age. Because of the other hunter’s failure to come back, Din had asked Paz to come along, the bounty collected would help fill the coverts coiffures and buy needed supplies.
“I wouldn’t bet on it, Vizla. She’s killed others before us. It might just be me that ends up claiming the credits if I have to leave you behind” Din deadpans, “I wouldn’t mind some peace and quiet on the journey home. You never seem to shut up and that…that can get us killed” Din sighs, flicking a few switches.
Paz chuckles, the sound bouncing around the small cockpit. “You say that like it wouldn’t be you that she took out, Djarin.” He counters, his leather clad hand flexing on his broad, armored covered thigh. “One little girl is no match for two Mandalorians. Even if you are the weaker of the two of us.” Din rolls his eyes under his helmet, tilting his head slightly. While the other man was larger than he was, most sparring matches ended in a draw before true violence erupted. “Di’kut,” He mutters under his breath as he breaks the atmosphere and starts to navigate to the closest open area to the tracking beacon to land the ship.
“Help,” Gloria called out, her last vestiges of resistance giving voice to her need to escape long after her body had succumbed to her conditioning, but the word came out in a breathy sigh that wouldn’t carry more than a few feet over the sound of the fucking machine that was pistoning a dildo relentlessly in and out of her sopping cunt. She tried again, but it was no good; her gasping whimper of, “Please help,” sounded more like a woman who was asking to be fucked harder than one who’d already lost so much of her will to the endless spiral and the constant, inexorable thrusts of the silicone cock.
“H-help me,” she gasped again, each time wondering if this was her literal last gasp of defiance; she’d already ceded so much of her consciousness to the spiral over the last several days of brainwashing, to the point where her captors no longer even needed the restraints to keep her trapped in bed with her legs spread and a dildo pounding her slick cunt. Gloria’s own arms were hooked under her knees, pulling them out and back to give the fucking machine better access to her pussy, and she couldn’t control them despite every instinct warning her that if she didn’t fight back she’d be completely brainwashed by the time her vacation ended. “Help me, please,” was the only remnant of her resistance, and it was a pitiful one at that.
Even if someone did hear her–and Gloria was pretty sure that no one would–one look at her would convince them that she was some dumb horny slut playing a silly game of consensual non-consent. Not only did her cries of, “Help, please, I need… I… help….” sound like the sort of thing some braindead sex kitten would say shortly before explaining that her mouth needed a dick in it, she was actually smiling while she said it. Her mind was so far gone into the spiral that even her facial expressions obeyed her captors and not her tiny, yammering consciousness. Pleading for assistance was a sick joke, and Gloria half-suspected that was why she was being allowed to do it.
Because in the end, their goal was to break her will and leave her utterly defeated, convinced that there was no escape from their power over her. They wanted to return Gloria to her regular life back in the States, able to maintain a facade of normality but knowing deep down that she’d been so completely subjugated that all they needed to do was knock on her door and tell her to kneel and she’d drop to her knees in vacant, obedient bliss. This kind of despair, this sure and certain knowledge that she’d become so pathetically addicted to the cock between her legs that she couldn’t even make herself cry out for help effectively, this was all part of their plan.
And it was working. “…help,” Gloria called out again, but it was little more than a whisper this time and it failed to convince even her that she wanted to be free. The only person it attracted was one of her kidnappers, who came in and looked at her with an expectant expression that fooled Gloria into thinking, if only for a moment, that if she could only tell him she wanted them to stop then they’d actually listen this time. If she made her lips move, if she made herself say that she wanted to be free, then they’d do it because they’d know she couldn’t be broken. All she needed to do was say….
“um, sorry, sir. N-never mind.” The man left. Gloria’s cunt throbbed in climax. And she finally, fully gave in to despair.
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“Meg, could you just–?” Margaret Watts, better known as the superhero Megawatt, smiled and put her hand on either side of the Scarlet Banshee’s head, just over her temples. There was a tiny sound of arcing current, a scent of ozone in the air, and the helpless heroine slumped backwards with her mouth open and eyes staring sightlessly into space. She didn’t even have an instant to recognize her fellow hero’s betrayal; the carefully-sculpted burst of electricity flooded her synapses with a precise pattern of energy that numbed her entire frontal lobe into oblivion and goaded her limbic system into producing an overdose of endorphins and dopamine. And the Bewitcher knew just how to take it from there.
It was the work of only a moment to peel off the helpless woman’s costume–Scarlet Banshee was one of those adorable superheroes who loved to fight crime in a bustier and a bikini, so proud of her powerful physique that she couldn’t resist showing it off a little while she sent criminals off to jail. It took the Bewitcher even less time to get her fingers into exactly the right position to deepen the Banshee’s endorphin-soaked haze, her sorcerous spell wrapping around the defenseless heroine’s mind and pushing into the vulnerable center of her very personality. “It’s time to bewitch you,” she murmured, and Megawatt shuddered in beatific ecstasy as she watched her teammate’s subjugation.
No one would have thought that Margaret could be the keystone of a plan to infiltrate the world’s greatest superteam and suborn its members, one by one, to the Bewitcher’s seductive magics; when they thought of Megawatt, they thought of great big bolts of electricity ripping through the air and smacking into the side of a 200-foot monster. She was the team’s mobile artillery, a destructive force they used against enemies who needed a lot of punishment to go down… but the Bewitcher saw the subtle control the young woman was capable of. She knew that the same energies that had blasted the Necrovore into oblivion could also exert the most delicate control over some megalomaniac’s super-computer–and what was a brain, but a biological computer?
So she waited, and she watched, and she bided her time until Megawatt was all alone with her guard down. And the Bewitcher seduced the pretty young woman into her power before Margaret even realized that she was dealing with a supervillain at all. And now… the Scarlet Banshee was the third to fall before the captivated hero’s precise, potent control of electrical energy. Her will might have been indomitable, at least in the Bewitcher’s experience, but her brain was nothing more than a machine that ran on a complex synaptic network… and between every synapse, there was a tiny gap where electricity flowed. She couldn’t resist when that power was rerouted away from thinking and straight into deep, desperate arousal.
And once the Bewitcher had her hooks into the Scarlet Banshee’s mind… or Galaxie’s, or the Weaponeer’s, or any of the seductive villainess’s future victims… she knew exactly how to keep them blank and blissful and obedient. Just like Megawatt, who was overwhelmed with sheer joy at the notion of helping her sister heroes into slavery. “That’s my good girl,” the Bewitcher purred, and Margaret leaned in to join the other women in sapphic bliss.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
