JINX - T.F.
Synopsis. Toji Fushiguro: MMA light heavyweight champion, tyrant in the ring, the strongest man in the world. But after a sudden losing streak leaves him without his title, Toji realizes that he suffers from a certain…jinx. The cure: you, his new physical therapist - and what’s between those pretty legs of yours!
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!physical therapist!reader, MMA fighter!Toji, Jinx (the manhwa) AU, he’s mean, matches, slight vioIence (to his opponents), Shiu cameo, jinxes, pússydrunk Toji, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, fíngering, spítting, p sIapping, SO MUCH manhandling, HEADLOCKS, slight chokíng, rough s, cervíx kíssing, folding you, p talking, he’s rude, creampíes, cúmplay, tasting it, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.2k
A/N. PHEW-
“Ouch! Huge overhand right—Toji Fushiguro is on his last leg, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in-between. I repeat-”
Toji scowls as the commentator’s voice bellows in his ears, like lightning flashes of derision through the thunder of the crowd. Those bastards, he seethes, they sure were singing his praises last season…
He sways ever-so-slightly, and throws a punch- misses- then gets hit with an uppercut that he really should’ve dodged.
Should’ve.
“That is some damage- wow! A shocking turn of events for the once-champion, it seems like Toji is already down for the count tonight.”
The hell are they talking about? He tries to glare down at the table of commentators (which would’ve been easier if said table wasn’t so…tilted).
Why was the world spinning?
Before he knows it, Toji’s on the mat. He feels the referee rush to his side, slamming the ground in countdown. He feels the crowd roar as he’s announced his defeat, yet again. And in that moment, he knows.
It’s a jinx.
.
.
.
“—devastating loss for the man that once ruled the octagon.”
“The latest in his recent losing streak, fans are left wondering when their light heavyweight champion will make his comeback. And what changes have to be made in order to—”
“—almost as if he’s been jinxed, hah!”
You hasten to turn down the volume on your phone. Despite having your earphones connected, all those screams n’ cries n’ protests still melded together into a powerful whirlwind, blaring out from the cheap speakers.
Tinny. The disappointment of the vast audience on-screen was far too much for your device to contain.
And not wishing to draw any more dirty looks from the other passengers on your bus, you muted the video and paused it on a still of Toji Fushiguro.
It was right after his defeat in the preliminaries; his skin glistening in fervent sweat, a cut bleeding from his brow, face scrunched as he rejected the help of someone from his own team. Instead, choosing to get up by himself.
Still silenced, you let the video play on a little longer - and you take in the glump slump of his shoulders. Oh-so-toned. You take in the way he stalks grimly off of the octagon-shaped battleground that the MMA was most famous for.
From here, you could tell that Toji towered above all of the crew- hell, he even towered above his opponent.
So why did he lose?
Alright, so you weren’t an expert in all things mixed-martial arts - but as a physical therapist you think you had some sort of say in the matter!
From here, you determine that this should’ve been an easy win for him. Terribly easy. Practically handed to him: for Toji was built considerably larger, stronger, about 6’3 with a ripped physique that made you understand exactly why the fighter had graced every single sports magazine in existence last season. Every TV show. Every sports exclusive. He’d taken the fighting world by storm at his debut, and he’d held that title ever since.
Infamous.
A wonder to watch on the screen.
A deep v-line. Arms the size of your head.
Those sage, half-lidded eyes of his were intense - especially now, as they blazed with injustice. You could remember feeling them follow your every move, prowling, from the athletics section on every magazine aisle. You think you’d picked up those exact magazines a few times, just to make sure that they weren’t somehow actually following you.
One time, you even remember the shop employee nodding approvingly at your choice.
Everyone knew Toji Fushiguro.
If not from his legendary MMA reputation, then from his irresistible looks. If not from his irresistible looks, then from his reputation as a tyrant in the ring.
If from neither then from his recent streak of losses that shook the fighting world.
It’d come out of nowhere. And no athlete quite expects to lose, but this seemed to have come as a surprise especially to Toji and his team, crew to an athlete that should’ve been at the top of his game.
You ponder - perhaps it was some wear on the joints, or maybe he hasn’t been getting enough electrolytes this season…
You’re pulled out of your little reverie by a cough from the kind ol’ lady seated beside you; the type that was less a necessity of the body, and more a pointed intonation of ‘I don’t know what you’re doing and it seems like neither do you’.
And, suddenly, you realize that you hadn’t just been staring into space as you’d thought- no, you’d been staring (quite passionately) at a paused frame of Toji Fushiguro in all his shirtless, sweaty glory. A close-up of his built figure. A close-up of the tattoo on the side of his toned hip.
Which, you had to admit was quite…attractive- pull yourself together! You turn off the phone that you’d pulled out in the first place for research, lest anyone else on the bus start thinking that you were some kind of pervert (it might already be too late for that, the elderly woman was tittering to herself). Ducking your head in shame, you sigh out in relief as you notice that your stop is near.
“The next stop is Sendagaya Station, Shibuya.” The lilting voice of the conductor rings out, “Please prepare your fares.”
You were glad to finally get off this bus, after a long ride spent toiling to yourself. In no time, you’d paid your fare and was stepping out into the bustling city.
Conveniently, right in front of the gymnasium you were supposed to arrive at: TEAM BLACK, TOKYO MMA GYM. 5F.
To work for Toji Fushiguro.
You check your watch—five minutes early. Dressed in your crisp scrubs, you adjust the glinting golden badge engraved with your name and your position as physical therapist.
And then you step in.
The sound of gloves connecting with flesh, of groaning punching bags, and shouts greet you immediately as you enter. There were a multitude of fights that were ongoing in the expansive gym, but there was only one that you couldn’t take your eyes off of - right in the middle, pummeling his bloodied opponent, was Toji Fushiguro.
From around the ring, teammates and coaches were yelling at the dark-haired man to stop. But he doesn’t.
His stone-cold face specks with blood, and he still doesn’t stop. His opponent taps at the mat to halt the match, and he still doesn’t stop. One of the other fighters in the gym runs up to grab him, and he still doesn’t stop.
Ultimately, you watch as it takes about five men to even match Toji’s strength- forget about overpowering.
“What’s wrong with you?!” One of the men cried out, “‘Free sparring’ doesn’t mean you should actually take the guy apart- someone could have gotten injured!”
“You okay? You seemed lost there, man…”
“Is this about the loss from a few weeks ago- eek!” Several of them stumble backwards as Toji glares at them for that particular comment, and suddenly you’re reminded of the match you’d just watched on the way here. That devastating loss.
You look over and can’t help but notice that the man inside the ring right now is much bigger than the one he’d fought during that match. Much stronger, it seems.
And again, you’re wondering - why the hell couldn’t he win?
“The punk wanted to spar, s’not my fuckin’ problem he couldn’t handle it.” Toji grunts, and it’s the first time you’re hearing his low baritone. Slightly husky.
He rolls his eyes as he shoves off the other fighters, and pulls aside the colored ropes ring to step out. Which is when, slowly, magnetically, his eyes meet yours.
“Who’s this?”
Toji’s in front of you in a split-second, his broad shape looming. His twinkling irises staring down. His black t-shirt skin-tight. His scarred lips slightly quirking upwards—
And before you can even think of responding, you hear a call of your name.
From the other side of the gym, a clean-cut man with a slight spattering of scruff was pacing his way over. He was well-built, like the other fighters here, though with an air of authority with which he wielded a clipboard.
In front of you, Toji repeats your name. Like he was tasting it.
“Ah, you must be the new physical therapist!” The man announces once he’s close enough, and you bow politely to which he does the same. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. The name’s Shiu Kong, m’the manager of these animals- so if there’s anything you need to ask, you ask me.”
“Thank you for having me, and for the opportunity.” You smile, seeing Toji’s stunned expression from the edge of your peripheral vision.
He scoffs, “And what do we need a physical therapist for?”
Shiu instantly smacks him with his clipboard, “Have you had one too many blows to the head?” He barks out, in a tone that was the complete opposite of the gentle way he’d spoken to you. “Huh? Have you? Have you forgotten the fact that you’ve done more losing than winning this season-”
“Alright alright-” Toji waves off, “The fuck? They should put you in the ring next.”
And then he turns to you and sweeps his eyes up and down. Deciding to take a chance, you thrust your hand out in the attempt of a handshake- only for him to take it in his much-larger, roughened one. And instead he flips your palm over and bends- almost like he’s bowing, almost like you’re royalty - and grins. “Pleasure.”
He doesn’t introduce himself, he knows he doesn’t have to.
And with only a slight smirk thrown your way, Toji turns on his heel and heads in the direction of one of the clinical-looking rooms in the gymnasium. Away from all the fighting, you assumed that this will be your office going forward.
Toji’s already there when you enter, and he’s-
…shirtless?
His broad back was all on display for you, every curve n’ divot, every one of his eight washboard abs, every flex of his muscles. He was glimmering with a sheen of sweat that brought out just how toned he was- and you think you could see, closer than ever, the inky spirals of a snake on his hip.
“My clothes are soaked in sweat-” Toji turns to look at you, and you feel your heart race at being caught staring. “I can do this in my boxers, right?”
“Ah, yes!” You try to keep your tone even, and help your client - your client - lay down on the examination table. But oh- he really was attractive. Painfully so.
Not even those smokin’ hot magazines and edits on social media (all part of your…research, of course) had done him justice.
But you had a job to do, and you’re getting started right away. “Do you have any specific concerns?” You ask, pulling a thin towel over Toji’s crotch area as he reclines. And he only sighs and rests his head upon his palms, muscles rippling as he does so.
“Just do your thing.”
“Yes, sir.” You nod, “Then, I’ll give you the full body sports oil massage.”
“Mn.”
You start from his broad shoulders, and then down to his pecs.
And he really wasn’t like any of the clients you’d had prior - no one came even close. You could feel the power in his body, the firmness, the training. Any time you glissade your lotionized hands across Toji’s muscles, he grunts- and, oh, you have to squeeze your thighs together to stop from thinking anything stupid.
You kneaded your way down from his bulging biceps, and onto the side of his hips - where you got a really good look at the snake tattoo. You notice that it also had flowers inked around it.
And then onto his thighs…you’re raising them in external rotations. All the while looking up at his ridiculously handsome face to check whether it hurt, you didn’t register the way your hands somewhat struggled to get a proper grasp on his meaty thighs, especially with the sweat.
You didn’t register the way your fingertips slightly scoured downwards-
“Oh, shit!” You hiss, jumping your hand back. In the few seconds that you’d been distracted by his looks, you’d somehow traced the crown head of something long…and hard.
Looking down, you realize that Toji’s erection was throbbing against the thin layer of his boxers. Barely even hidden by the cover of the towel, the lengthy cylindrical outline was there for your eyes to see - and for your hand to accidentally touch.
Your eyes widen.
How was he so big?
“My- my apologies, sir!” You sputter out, resting your treasonous hands against your sides. “It’s a very common physiological response to get hard- ah- an erection during a massage, and it’s completely my mistake for not noticing. Again, my apologies, I completely understand if you wish to-”
“Whaddaya doing just standing there?” Toji cuts you off gruffly, and you look up at his face in surprise. He raises a dark brow, “Aren’t you gonna finish what you started?”
You blink, “Finish what I…”
“The massage.” He cocks his head, though there’s a knowing smile on his lips - how devilish he looked this way. “That damn Shiu’s gonna give me hell if I don’t get it- so hurry it up, will ya?”
That was close. Hastily nodding, you reach over to massage his thigh once more. “Right at once, sir.”
Looking down, you chose not to make eye-contact with him for the rest of the session. Instead, focusing your entire attention on perfectly executing the massage, step by step - you wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened before!
Toji, however, stared at you through his partially-lidded eyes the entire time.
.
.
.
“That wraps up your treatment for today. Thank you for your patience, Mr. Fushiguro.” You step to the side, giving the athlete the space to stretch out his long limbs and feel the effects of your massage- which, you had to admit yourself, was amongst some of the best in the academy.
He takes his time rolling his shoulders, feeling the way the blood vessels on his muscles flow smoothly. Energized.
“Hm, not bad.” Toji muses, more to himself. “Most of the punks here call me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Fushiguro’-” He nods at you, “You can just call me Toji.”
“Oh- I’m honored, sir- I mean-” Your veins blister with heat, and you think that the slight quirk of his lips might have something to do with it. “—Toji.” It felt so wrong on your tongue, and yet so right.
And before you can let anything further slip (because, really, you’d never been close enough to a client to address them by their first name, let alone be told to do so after the very first session), you turn away from the handsome man to grab your bag of supplies, your coat, and step to fumble with the door handle. “And now- if that’s all, then I’ll be going now. Have a nice day, sir- I mean-”
As you make your very evident escape, Toji can only watch. Can only stare.
He feels his massive erection still throb furiously between his legs, still ravenous. Like never before. And one of his hands snakes down to squeeze—“How…interesting.”
Before the door swings open once more and in comes Shiu, prattling away something about how you ‘left in such a hurry’ and what a ‘sweet lil’ thing’ you were- Toji casually throws a second hand towel over his lap as his best friend (and manager) comes to slap him on the shoulder. “Feeling refreshed, eh? I can see it in your eyes- with her, we might just have hope about winning that next match.”
“Yeah.” He rasps out, throat dry. Toji watches where you left, he can still feel your soft hands tingling on his skin. “Yeah, we might just.”
.
.
.
“Fuck-” The champion spits between his clenched canines- well, future champion. But it didn’t hurt to be a lil’ optimistic, did it? “Oh, fuck- I’ve never been fuckin’ harder.”
He didn’t fucking care. Not right now, not when he had his strong hand rested against the glistening tile of the stall. His head bent forwards, his back wet with the pouring shower, his right hand slipped below his v-line and furiously pumping his cock.
Up and down. Up and down.
Fuck, he was jerking himself off like he never had before. Until the friction of his roughened palm left his long, hot length all red n’ raw- and yet, he still wasn’t stopping. Still couldn’t.
He remembers the feeling of your soft hands on his thighs and Toji bucks-
“F-fuck-” The fighter gnaws down on his scarred bottom lip, trying desperately not to make a sound that will echo out in the gym’s empty locker room. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- s’not supposed to feel this good.” Sure, they had stalls - but right now even the slightest flick of his thumb, right underneath his mushroomy tip, felt so good that he might as well moan out loud.
And the worst part was that he’s sure his very first moan would be your name.
“Fuck, mama, s’not supposed to feel this good.” He snarls, entire body wracking with shivers. The bulging biceps on his arms ripple as he glides his hand down to his base. And all the way back up.
Abs tensing. Veins on his pelvis popping.
With a few more vulgar strokes, he’s hoverin’ his thumb right over the divot on the middle of his cockhead. It was all pink n’ needy, dribbling out in syrupy white cum in absolutely no time- “Look what you’ve done to me.” Toji watches himself through his shaggy black bangs, wet with water and perspiration, cumming all over his hands. “I don’t know what blessing- what c-curse you’ve put on me, but…” Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?
He rides out his high on his right hand, fucking his fist like he imagines you might tease him through it- just like the way you’d teasingly grazed his tip. Just grazed.
You’d probably take it like such a good girl. Let him paint his gluey white cum all over your face, and just across your lips - it would probably match your scrubs, heh. Biting back a groan, those lecherous thoughts of his only make him finish even faster.
And once the sparks of his high have finally bated - the fountain of his ivory sap stopping - Toji washes off the remnants of his lewd act. Spurting out some cool body wash and cleaning himself off, he slicks back his hair with clean hands now.
Head throwing back, he knew he had to get his mind in focus for the upcoming match - just in a few hours, actually. The car was supposed to be waiting for him outside the gym by now. It was some sort of rebound match of Legends vs. Rookies that Shiu had managed to scrounge together, and it should be displeased at the fact that he was supposed to fight some no-good, hotshot punk- but, honestly he had a good feeling about this one.
Toji’s thoughts stray back to you, and he finds himself cracking a snicker- “You’ve fuckin’ cursed me, woman. You plague me. But…” A thrill zaps through his strong body, “…I like it.”
.
.
.
Toji Fushiguro won the Legends vs. Rookies event.
A wipe-out so clean that everyone was sure it’d go down in history. A comeback so strong that it had already gone down in history.
After that, it was a streak of absolute demolition: the preliminaries, the co-main events, the PPV matches, each and every single fight that was thrown his way- Toji Fushiguro was sure to win without even breaking a sweat (metaphorically).
Hell, at one point even some of his past contenders from his losing streak had demanded rematches, perhaps thinking that they could put the legend in his place once more.
He’d won those, too.
After a season-long losing streak, it was months of winning. And you were giving him his massages on the days before every match.
And Toji was back on the magazine covers, the interviews, the brand deals. Right now you couldn’t even step outside your humble apartment building without being met with at least four different billboards and several commercials featuring him. It was quite strange - seeing the rugged persona in those mediums, and then his still-rugged demeanour in real life.
Though, slightly less so.
There was a faint gentleness to the way that Toji was (when you’d brought this up with some of the other fighters you’d grown close to, they’d fervently denied and showed off their bruises from the pummelings that Toji gave them in the ring).
But you were sure it was there: in the way that he’d always be first in the office, in the way he’d lightly murmur greetings to you and only you, in the way he’d hold open doors and look away as if he wasn’t, in the way that there was a drink of your favorite preference on your desk every morning. And you’d asked around, wondering if it was perhaps Shiu or any of the rookies that was doing so- but they all denied it.
All but one of them.
Toji.
Even Shiu seemed to have noticed that something had shifted in his best fighter. Hell, he was on a winning streak after so long, so of course there had to have been a change.
The other man couldn’t quite pinpoint it, though he gave most of the credit to you and your massages. ‘They must be some sort of magic work!’ He’d exclaimed to you one day, after a particularly tough opponent that Toji had easily beat.
And you yourself couldn’t quite be sure, though you didn’t want to give yourself all the credit. You were only glad that your favorite fighter (yes, after being around MMA fighters for long enough now, you’d determined that Toji was your favorite) was back to winning again.
Only glad you could help.
Which is why, in the ghost entrails of the early morning, at exactly 2:36AM, when Toji texted you - you answered.
2:36AM - Toji (MMA fighter): I need you.
2:38AM - Toji (MMA fighter): For another one of those full body massages.
2:42AM - Toji (MMA fighter): Please.
2:42AM - You: On my way!
As you jumped out of your bed to get dressed, you noticed that you had several missed calls from Shiu, as well. After calling him right back, he informed you that just last week, Toji had come up on a draw during his last match, which was yet another co-main event for the #1 Contender spot.
Of course, you knew of this, you’d watched the match on the gymnasium television. And though it wasn’t the worst of outcomes (especially considering that this was world-class fighting, at a light heavyweight level), considering his winning streak, you were somewhat surprised. And slightly afraid that he’d go back into his rut of losing, just as Shiu was.
Which was why he, too, wanted to reach out to inquire whether you could do one of your ‘magical’ full-body massages on Toji on the night before one of his biggest matches yet. A rematch for the #1 Contender spot - the audiences loved him.
Shiu told you he’d seen Toji moping around after that devastating draw, and knew that the only one who just might have the ability to brighten his mood would be you. So please, if you could go at 2:45AM to the penthouse apartment of a celebrity MMA fighter to give him a massage?
Of course, you said yes.
It seems that Toji’s team had arranged for everything already, and a flashy black car was already waiting outside your apartment building to whisk you off to your destination. You twiddled your thumbs, slightly nervous (for what? You weren’t quite sure) as the car parked in front of a set of gleaming skyscrapers. Apartment buildings of a calibre that you’d only seen in architectural magazines.
Escorted upwards by a few of Toji’s own personal bodyguards past an entrance larger than your entire apartment, and a lobby that practically screamed luxury.
You didn’t even know that Tokyo had such a place.
Massive. Concierges that bowed as soon as they saw you. An orchestra that still played in the dead of night. Chandeliers like miniature suns that lined the ceiling.
Damn, maybe you should’ve become a famous fighter, you whistled. It made sense, though, he is one of the highest-paid athletes in the country. Even the elevators were gilded, shining so brightly that you could make out every inch of your face on its reflection. And the bodyguard’s, too- you quickly straightened up and tried to look as casual as possible as he led you to the very top floor.
A large glowing button simply labelled with a ‘P’.
The penthouse floor had a wide carpeted corridor leading up to it, all golds and reds like the rest of the apartment. You walked up to the expensive-looking door at the end of it, and buzzed the doorbell on its touchpad.
Bzzzz—!
The door swings open.
And there stands Toji Fushiguro, in all his sweaty, shirtless glory.
It almost reminded you of the first time you gave him a massage. Chest heaving. Vision bleary. A glittering bead of sweat lines the curve of his jawline, ending at his chin and dripping downwards. Down, down, down the valley of his pecs.
There was a lewd little flush that overtook his tannish skin.
Like he was…sex-flushed.
Spreading out across his tense shoulders, and all the way down his chest. The back of his neck. You don’t think it even ends as it follows the line of his dark happy trail, those curly lil’ hairs at the bottom of his navel, and then even further down—
Toji’s grey sweatpants hung low on his hips.
Dangerously low.
And you have to force yourself to look away. You swallow as he raises one big, beefy arm and rests it on the top of the door frame. Looking at you through the gaps in his damp bangs, “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, mama.”
“O-oh.” You immediately close your mouth, realizing that you’d been gawking at him for far too long now (how unprofessional!) Sheepishly, you raise your bag of supplies and shake it ever-so-slightly. “I uh- got your text! And Shiu also called to tell me that you wanted an extra round of physical therapy before your match, sir-”
“Toji.”
“Toji-” You amend. Before taking on a stern tone, “And it looks to me like you’d already been up working out before your match. Overstressing your joints will wear them out, you know!”
He scratches the back of his head, a sleazy smile overtaking his face. “Working out- right.”
Tutting, “What you need now is a nice massage and some relaxation. I’ll do your usual with some added therapy for your blood pressure, how about that?”
“Perfect.” Toji grins, and he cracks the doorway open. Just slightly open. So that you have to squeeze yourself between the doorway and his chiselled body - not that you were complaining. “Come on in and give me a- hah, real workout then, how about it?”
“Relaxation, Toji.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
Ignoring his teasing, you step inside. It’s a luxurious apartment - one of those stylishly modern types, black and white, with flares of Toji’s MMA career. Boxing gloves on the sprawling couch. A TV that takes up an entire wall, paused on highlights from his last match. A cabinet overspilling with trophies and belts.
Led by him, you stumble past towering artworks that likely cost about five of these penthouses - and that’s about ten thousand of your own apartment.
He walks you through winding hallways, and ultimately into what you guess is the master bedroom.
His bedroom.
The first thing you notice as you step in isn’t the rich furniture, or the king-sized bed, or the draping curtains that were cracked ever-so-slightly to let a sliver of the city seep through. No- it’s the mountain of tissues scattered on the wine-red carpet, the bottle of lotion on his bedside table, the way the dark bedsheets looked like he’d just been thrashing on it.
Toji casually lays back down on his wrinkled bed, and rests his clammy head on two hands. Stretching out.
You hasten to set out your work, coating your palms in lotion, and beginning your massage. As you start off warming up his obliques, you can’t help but blurt out- “M-my apologies for assuming it was a workout-”
Fuck.
Why would you say that?
You gasp, “I mean-”
“Why?” Toji croons, tilting his head to look at you. Trying to avoid his gaze, you quickly shift to extending his legs instead. “It was a workout, heh.”
Your veins bubble, “Oh…”
“And it’s a workout I need before every match, y’know?” Looking at you closely, still, you’re too aware of the fact that you’re massaging his thigh. “The fact that m’fuckin’ my fist like some lecher before every match, you don’t think that’s strange?”
“I see. I don’t really…” Your throat is drier than the Sahara, you have no idea what to say - though, you admit, a part of you wants to hear more. So that’s what he’d been doing, in this very room, on this very bed, just before you’d arrived.
Another part of you is thrilled. Another part of you is confused why you’re thrilled- which quickly morphs into understanding once your brain conjures up a sizzling image of Toji Fushiguro alone with his sweatpants at his ankles, hands fisting his rock-hard cock.
Shaking your head free of those lecherous visions, you attempt to lighten the mood- “Is that why you’ve been winning all these matches lately, hah?”
“Exactly.” And Toji sounded dead-fucking-serious. Rising, he looks you squarely in the eyes with his slightly murky ones. “See, the thing is, I have this jinx.”
Your eyes widen.
“That’s why I was on a losing streak- no matter what happens, it turns out I needa have a real good high the night before a match.” Your hands have stopped their movements, yet he shifts to edge them up higher. Closer. “N’ it needs to be truly satisfying for me to win.”
“So- so these past few matches?”
“Mhm, you’re a smart one, mama.” He shifts on the bed, sitting up. Even closer. “You could say it’s my routine, and it’s very important to me.” His verdant gaze shifts from your right eye, to your left, to your lips. A triangle. “And…I’d found my fix. Just fucking my fist to the thought of her was enough- but lately…lately, I dunno if that’s all I want.”
Your breath catches—he was talking about…“I see- th-that must be quite challenging.”
“Heh, it looks like you still don’t get it.”
Before you know it, his hand grasps yours. And he’s bringing it up- to press an innocent peck on the back of your hand, though the burning look in his eyes was anything but.
Scarred lips murmuring against your skin, “Why’d ya think that on the crucial night before a match, I’d go through all the trouble of calling my manager, informing security, and having you come over?” He chuckles, “And if you still don’t get it-”
And that sweet, sweet kiss he was pressing to your hand?
Well, Toji’s canines slip outwards to lightly bite down - just teasingly. He looks at you through his long, Stygian lashes. “I know the way you look at me, ya aren’t slick- hah! If you want - only if you want - you should know.” Sighing out. A confession. “It’s always been you, doll. Always.”
So he really was talking about you earlier.
Your heart stutters, and the only thing you can think to do - let your hand slip up, just the way it had on the first day you’d given him a massage.
And sure as day, there it was, the massive fucking erection that raged beneath his sweatpants. Just as large - if not even larger - than how you’d remembered him.
Just as needy - if not needier.
You gulp, “Well, I am your physical therapist intended to help you…” You stare at him dead-on in the eyes: they were drunk with lust. Looking as if he was on the very urge of shattering if you just say the word. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of him in that way, either. “-win.”
.
.
.
“Oh fuck, you taste so good, mama. Just a lil’ wider now—just a little wider.” At Toji’s throaty beckons, you’re stretchin’ your thighs further apart with a whimper.
Feeling the scorchin’ hot gust of his breath against your core, you arch your back with a yelp once you feel him swat his calloused fingertips against your folds.
Teasingly, he runs his fat thumb right past your pussylips- snagging down on your clit to make you even wetter above him. “Wiiider now- lemme see her properly, mama.” He huffs out, demanding. “No need to be shy with me.”
“M’already stretching.” You’re rebutting, grabbing onto a few tufts of his raven bangs to balance yourself. You knew you didn’t need to be gentle with him- in fact, Toji groans at the feeling of you pulling on his hair, using it as leverage.
After all, he’d been the one to insist on making out with your cunt this way: your thighs straddling either side of his face, your cunt hovering above his mouth.
A beaded droplet of slick dribbles into his mouth and he has his tongue out n’ ready to catch it. Pryin’ your swollen folds even further apart with his thumb, “Atta girl-” As you leak out at his words- “Atta girl, s’exactly how wet I want you.”
“Hmpf- and you haven’t even kissed me yet.” You point out, stubbornly.
To which Toji only grins - oh, how cute you were. “You wan’ me to kiss you? There-” And before you know it, you’re feeling something cold and wet cling onto your pussy. Only later are you realizing that he’d just spat on your cunt, letting the lewd slurp-slurp-sluuuurp ring out for both your ears to hear. “Those lips happy now, or do you want tongue?”
“You’re just so mean- ngh-”
Another probing press of his crowned thumb, once more rolling over your clit perfectly. “Oh, so you do want tongue.”
And Toji says it so casually, as if he’d just stumbled across an epiphany. As if he normally did communicate through the squelching slurps your pussy was giving out-
Because then he’s delving his tongue into you like an animal.
Barely even prepping you, barely even warning you- not before the scourin’ tip of his tongue then enters past your folds. Striking directly against some tender inner part of your walls, before he’s darting it back out and fucking you with his long muscle.
Rutting.
Again and again and again.
You feel your thighs shiver hopelessly at the sheer length of Toji’s tongue - so fucking long that you could feel his ridged tastebuds aim for your very cervix. As if he could reach. “O-oh my god. How are you so big, Toji?”
“Mmm, and I haven’t even put my cock in yet, doll.” He smiles priggishly, his tongue slurping up every wadded ounce of slick that leaves you. “How are you gonna take that then, huh?”
“I don’t know- ngh.” He’s mazing another inch of his tongue in, thoroughly. And it’s enough to leave your body all loose n’ wobbly with pleasure- stupidly, you attempt to hold onto the towering headboard on his bed, but Toji can’t have that, now, can he?
Not when he was the one pounding your pretty pussy with all his tastebuds.
Glued to the slick-filled orifices of your cunt, he’s unhooking your hands from the headboard and bringing it back down to hold onto his scalp. To pull. To rough him up a little. “Don’t even think about it-” He can’t even speak through the rough, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on your puckered hole. Wetly. Gasping for air- for more tastes of your candied cunt. “In fact…”
Your hips flinch ever-so-slightly once Toji raises his head up - which, with his powerful body, was absolutely nothing even with your weight on top of him. And through his long bangs he takes a gooood, long look at you.
At your cunt.
At the way you were still hovering your hips, and then he’s spanking his familiar hand down on the tip-top of your clit. Making you gasp- “Did you just-”
“Whoops.” Faux-innocently, Toji acts all nice then - pinpointing the top of his tongue into each of those tender spots you loved so much. He unhinges his jaw even further to make sure that he isn’t leaving a single spot unkissed. Long and hard.
Smack!
And again, you’re finding the most tender outer part of your pussy slapped. “Aww, not again.” Toji has the audacity to pout on your behalf. Meanly, his free hand slides over to grip your ass and pull you down. “Anyways…why don’tcha properly fuckin’ sit, mama. Maybe then my hands will stop- heh, slipping.”
And as if to prove his point, his prolonged tongue skids all the way from your glossy hole to your clit. “I mean…”
“Like- fuck!” Still urging you to sit properly with his hands, on the verge of manhandling you. “Who the fuck do ya think you are, honey?”
You shyly try to listen to what he says, grindin’ your treacly cunt all over his open mouth. And oh- oh, it was like heaven for him. He has his greedy maw unfastened and his tongue slurping all over, stickin’ into every orifice even deeper than he had before. “I worry- hngh! I just worry that I might-” But he still wanted more. Still had his neck craning up n’ down to take in everything you gave him. “-suffocate you if you go on like this.”
And it was a realistic concern- fuck, you were hovering your waist right now and still Toji wasn’t stopping to take a breath. Wasn’t even slowing down.
He’s burying himself nose-deep between your pussylips and letting his mouth do more stirrin’ than talking. And it’s only after a few more vulgar fucking strokes of his tongue, a few more swabs inside your pussy that he can even wrench himself away to answer you. “Ohhhh, I get it.” Tugging on your trembling thighs, “You think I can’t handle it, huh?”
“I didn’t say- oh, fuck-”
Without hesitation, Toji plants a rude slap on your pussy once more. Letting those glittering beads of slick splatter all over, “You think m’fucking weak?” He seethes, half-joking. But half-wanting. “Let me get one thing fuckin’ clear, doll.”
And you’re listening intently - because if he sensed you were becoming too far one on the way his tongue lavishly licks, then Toji would once again swat your cunt. Drawing your attention once more.
The fighter stares deeply into your hazed peripherals as he lets his lengthy tongue flop out. Slitherin’ that honed tip right in- “No matter what you weigh, I can bench press more than five of you.” And he gives your pussylips yet another sinful spank! “Now- fucking- sit.”
You’re being seated with an unceremoniously loud sluuuuurp.
Of his tongue stickin’ deep inside you, his upper lip practically glued to your clit. With you riding his face, Toji fills out every tiny geysering nook and cranny. Grazing every velvety bundle of nerves that makes you see stars.
“Oh- please-” He was just ruthless. As if you didn’t know whether to fuck back or run forwards, you’re jolting your hips sloppily up and down. Slick, needy drags to match his lapping tongue.
Again and again.
Slurp after squelch.
Before you know it, Toji wants more - needs more. Even having you on top of him like this, his mouth was ravenous. Licking. Leaning up from the pillows to let you ride his face; all the way from the curve of his chin n’ up to the tip of his straight nosebridge.
As you come back down from one of these particular gyrations, Toji holds you still and - before you know it - you’re feeling the sensation of something elongated and thick entering your cunt.
“Sh-shit, that’s not your tongue…” You blink away the tears in your eyes and look downwards, where the protruding edges of his joints were stretching you intensely.
Two of them- even though it felt like four, with how big his fingers were.
As you wail n’ wobble on top of him, Toji crushes you to his mouth ferociously. And you marvel at the stretch that keeps you hostage - you can’t do anything but take it. But let your mouth fall ajar, and your head throw back, at the feeling of his probing thrusts.
Sultry tastebuds flickering over your clit- “Mmm, s’not my tongue- good catch, doll.” He snickers, “Thought that such a goooood pussy deserved a little something m-more-”
You catch the way that his dark brows furrow, a slight flush tinting what little you could see of his ears. “Wait- Toji, did you just stutter-”
“No the fuck I didn’t-” He’s snapping back.
And in response, you’re having your gummy walls pummeled with some of the rudest jackhammers you’ve ever felt in your entire life. Oh, he’s just swabbing his fingerpads in so deep, mouth pursing to spit against your entrance once more n’ lick it all up.
Letting himself salivate.
Toji drools down a waterfall of your slick, his fingers tuggin’ apart your tight hole to squeeze-squeeze-squeeze in a third finger. “Don’t make me lose focus now.” Grumbling from underneath you, the fighter pins you down with a big, beefy arm wrapped ‘round your waist. Tight. You’re in awe of his sheer inhuman strength. “Don’tcha remember? I’ve gotta- ngh- win tomorrow, n’ this pretty pussy is the key to it, mama. So let me focus alllll my attention on h-her…”
You gasp, “So you did stutter-” And soon enough, you feel yourself growing even wetter at the implication that the strong, cocky Toji Fushiguro was so pussydrunk right now that he was slurring his words.
Gone on your cunt. The way you clenched ‘round his rovering fingers- oh.
And, of course, Toji wasn’t complaining about the fact that you were soaking yourself even more. Only gaping his maw further open, “Mmm, tch-” His fingers pull out with a squelch to spank the front of your core, “-these lips are much nicer t’me.”
“Hey—” You huff, “Just because I got you all ngh- pussydrunk doesn’t mean- oh fuck!”
“What were you saying—?” And then he’d bullied in four fingers - four. Four entire, long digits- he ends off by hitting his mountainous knuckles against your folds with a smack! Smack after smack. Until the skin on his hands were rubbed all raw, Toji probes his fingers inside your cunt. “Oh yes, I think someone was talkin’ all big w’me. Do you know who that, mmm, might be?”
You shake on top of him, his cushy fingertips were glissading oh-so-close to your g-spot. With every rapid thrust, they inched in—“I-I don’t-”
“I see.” And then he’s rolling his tongue ruthlessly against your clit with a few wettened noises. “Do you know then?”
“What do you-”
“Shhh, not you.” Toji rolls his half-lidded eyes. And his vibratin’ words zap through your entire body - he always did make sure to lean in reeeeal close whenever he spoke, but right now, he was tracing his canines over your swollen clit and lightly gnawing. “M’talking to her- aren’t I?”
“F-fuuuck–!” Just then, he’s striking your g-spot. Thunderously. Just then, he’s realizing he did- and repeating the motion in quick, frenzied half-thrusts.
Barely even pulling properly to tease your elastic hole, barely even letting you register the way he bashes your bundle of nerves before he repeats the act. Toji was just vicious with how he batters in your poor cunt, “Yeah? Yeah yeah yeah- ya like that?” He spits, “Who’s stuttering now, mama? Got anythin’ else to say?”
You whimper, “Mm-mm-”
“Mhm, I knew she was chattier anyway.”
Talking to your pussy, Toji nods along like he’s part of the conversation. All those pretty, pretty sounds that he almost wishes he could record and listen to on loop.
So it was only a matter of time before he’s feeling the way your clampin’ walls reach a feverpitch, the way your damp noises only seem to get damper.
And the fighter looks up at you with a glint of excitement in his partially-lidded eyes, “Oh, she’s close, doll.”
“How did you-” Your breath catches- fuck, he’s only accelerating his thorough pushes. The only thing you could register at this point was the perfect way he knew how to work your pussy, all those deepest, most fragile spots.
Quickly enough, those twinges of pleasure at the pit of your stomach are turning into waves.
And you can feel your thighs tremor on top of him, struggling to support your body when your orgasm quakes. “Toji, m’close-” You tug on his sweaty hair, “I think m’gonna c-cum soon.”
“So cum on my face, then?” He answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Determined, you don’t even need to hold up your own self anymore - he’s doing so with one hand glued to the side of your hips, the other pressing and probin’ until you’re being fucked by both his mouth n’ his fingers- straight into your high.
Crash-landing into your orgasm, it takes you entirely by surprise.
You jerk your cunt against his mouth, and Toji groans with delight. Back arching. Toes curling. You close your eyes and see entirely white as the surge of euphoria takes over your body.
“Oh my- ngh, fuck. M’cumming, m’cumming m’cumming and it feels so good-” He’s just digging his veiny fingers against every sensitive ridge on your walls, just the way you liked. “Right there, keep going just like that, Toji.”
And usually this would be the point where he says something to tease you. The point where he says something to make you whine n’ try to shut him up with your bloated pussylips.
But he was fucking you so thoroughly through your high that he doesn’t even have the time for that anymore, doesn’t have the patience.
With his scarred lips smoochin’ away at your clit, Toji lets his plump fingertips hit your g-spot. Constantly. With those keen senses of his (honestly you blame the reflexes from MMA), he pinpoints the exact tempo of your high.
Every peak- he bashes in with a swat! at your bundle of nerves. Letting his mouth salivate all down your runny slit, drinking up every sip of your sweet, sweet juices. Like honey. “And you called me p-pussydrunk, heh.” Toji titters away, noticing the glazed look in your eyes. “As if you’re not the one gone on my tongue, doll. As if you’re not the one salivating all like that. As if you’re not the one with the pussy that’s fuckin’ ruined me- fuck.”
Both of you register what he’s said at the same time.
Toji with a sudden gasp, and you with a smug smirk. The strongest of your high has bated by now to nothing more than a few tingles, and you have half the mind to look down at him and ask. “So…ruined you, huh?”
“Sh-shut up.”
That pussydrunkness - oh, Toji Fushiguro was fighting against it. Trying not to cave in. But alas, he couldn’t be in denial any longer after your orgasm has ended, and you’re trying to pull off of his mouth- only for Toji to hold onto your thighs and chase after your cunt.
You whimper from overstimulation as he licks at your teary crevice a few more times, before you the pleasure is too much and you really have to push his sweaty crown away.
“Toji- ngh, m’sensitive.” You squeal, to which he grunts in nonchalance. Still addicted to tastin’ you. Realizing this, you finally huff, “If you let me go now, then maybe I wanna take a shot at- hah, paying you back…”
And that finally makes him pull off. With a raised brow, “Cheh, go easy on yerself- you can’t take me that easily.”
“Oh? Scared?”
“You wish.”
In fact, there was a hint of challenge in Toji’s dazed eyes. In no time, you’re plopped off of his mouth with the most lecherous noise. Seated on the edge of the bed, he got off and tugged down on the flimsy fabric of his sweatpants.
Resting his fist on the dark curls at his base, you’re being introduced to Toji’s proud length.
Tanned. Rock-hard.
Even larger than you’d imagined from all his…accidental erections during your sessions. Long. And he wasn’t lacking in the girth department, either - the plumpest tip, all covered in a layer of creamy pre. It dripped down the nozzle of his cockhead, n’ allllll the way down his shaft.
Body moving before your mind, you’re reaching out to grab at his tannish cock. The flatness of your thumb easily smears the lines of precum he was leaking out, letting them glide along the veins that decorated either side of his shaft.
So textured, you wondered how it would feel inside-
“So?” Toji grunts out from above you, peering down. You notice that he still has the remnants of your slick plastered all across his chin, mouth, all the way up to his cheekbones. Worn like some medallion. He sinks his fangs into his lower lip to stop from making too many needy noises as you inspected his sheer size, “Not too late to back out now, doll- heh- oh.”
You’re making him swallow that cocky laughter of his back.
Because in a few sultry split-seconds, you have your mouth pointed right above the divot on his shaft. Spitting. You let the dollop of spittle ooze down his shaft for a bit, before immediately taking his tip into your mouth.
Oh, he’s reaching for the roof of your mouth instantly.
So thick. So plump. You shut your eyes and groan at the salty-sweet taste that greets you, it’s surprisingly not unpleasant.
And Toji lets off a low whistle at the slobbered display, “Oho?” Looking at you through his lashes, you stare up with doey, teary eyes and he feels himself throb at near the back of your throat. “Sh-shit- dooon’t fucking look at me like that. Oh, you know what you’re doing, woman.”
“Mmmpf-” You moan, your lips ‘round his sensitive slit. They send sinful vibrations that makes the larger man hiss.
“Fuck yeah, you do.” With a mean hand, the fighter grips onto the back of your scalp. Manhandling you slightly, “C’mon, doll. C’mon- let’s see if that slutty mouth o’ yours is just talk.”
And then he’s rutting slightly upwards - gently.
At least, for him. But for you, you’re clawing down the lines of his toned pelvis, struggling to catch your breath-
“Oh? Some claws on ya, girl. Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already? I haven’t even fucked ya dumb yet.” And he has the audacity to make that mocking pout again, “Y’know I’ve been fuckin’ my cock to the, mm, thought of you for months now. And- oh, fuck- keep doing that with your tongue—ngh.”
Your jaw aches, and yet you unhinge it even deeper to let the tip of your tastebuds trace patterns all across the line of his slit. All pinkish and slicked with precum.
He continues, “You wanna know a secret?” It was such a heavenly sight, watching you try to nod with Toji’s fat cock stuffed between your lips. Hell, you hadn’t even taken him all yet. “Right before you came here-” Leaning in, whispering. “-I was jerking my cock- oh-”
“Mhmm—?”
“-to your text, doll.”
Oh, fuck.
You’re plucking yourself off of Toji’s thick crown to gasp- but he doesn’t let you get too far before grabbing you with one hand at your throat. Lightly putting pressure at your sides, he’s crashing his lips onto yours.
“Mmm—” He groans against your lips, tasting you, tasting himself, tasting you. “Get on the middle of the bed, all fours. Wanna see if those other lips of yours are just talk, too.”
“They’re not.” You huff, but do as he says anyway.
Those overworked bedsprings creak as you both reposition yourselves: you on your hands and knees, your face pushed into one of the pillows, and Toji right behind you.
His rough hands bend your spine into a cute lil’ curvature, and then proceeds to bang the ends of his fingertips against your weepy pussy. “Easy there, mama.” Toji coos once you buck with a whimper, “Toji’s here n’ you just have to be my good girl and take it, alright?”
You’re nodding, “Just shut up and fuh-fuck me already.”
“Tut tut, greedy girl.”
But he’s doing as you say anyway - oh, he’d do anything you say, to be quite honest. You’re inching your needy cunt closer to where his erection was upright, and Toji holds onto the base of his cock to just slightly eeeeease his way in.
His plump, puckered tip pries apart your folds.
From his honed end, all the way down to where his cockhead swells, you’re feeling him stretch you wiiide open as he enters. “Oh my- fuck! You feel even bigger than you looked-”
“Why, thank you…heh.” And you swear you can feel his red-hot girth throb even bigger. Wider. Since Toji was rock-fucking-hard, you could sense any and every change in his size. “Now don’t run, alright?”
“Why would I-” You’re cutting your own self off, feeling him give the slightest half-thrust from behind. And it’s enough to make you lurch your hand out and grab onto one of the spindles of his headboard. “-oh- oh, I get it now.”
“Mhm—knew you’d wanna run, all talk.” Shaking his head and his shaggy strands, Toji had to have some extra, extra precaution, you see.
Just a warning wasn’t enough. So without further ado, his beefy forearm reaches out to hold tightly onto your neck. Squeezing either side of it, he feels the way your pulse thunders underneath his touch.
Throat strangled with spittle and whines. “Oh my god-” Even more so when he starts rutting his hips like an animal.
“Easy there, eeeeasy there.” He’s reassuring you from behind, as if his achingly hard cock wasn’t splitting you open incredibly. “S’just the tip, doll. You can take it- shhh, you can take it.”
“Whaddaya mean this is just the tip?” You gasp, feeling your body being pulled into his like a ragdoll. He manhandles you as if you’re nothing, constantly grinding your hips back against that scruffy happy trail of his.
“Well, just the tip aaaaand…” You’re quickly learning that whenever Toji elongates his words, he’s dragging out his thrusts, too.
Letting the thick, vein-covered length of his shaft gliiiide all across your walls and then right back. Baaaack and forth. Baaaack and forth. With a sensual pace, he’s inching his way in- the fat, bulbous end of his shaft acting like the headlight. Spearing. He snickers, “-an inch more. Two.”
Tears stream down your cheeks, and Toji’s lavish tongue careens out to lick at them deliciously. “A-and- oh, how much more is there?”
He casually leans his weight back to check, and the fighter’s greedy gaze gets stuck on the sight of your pussy suckin’ him up. Slurping him.
It’s like your pussylips were stretched apart so widely and struggling to take his merciless pace- yet still clamping down, still glistening with wetness after each one of his rugged strikes. “Oh, just about two inches…three…four-” Toji whispers hotly against your ear, “Y’know what- how about I just tell you after you’ve taken all, mm, nine inches, doll?”
Nine inches?
Oh, you were done for.
You weren’t walking out of this very penthouse.
“Yeah, you’re not.” He confirms your thought- shit, you’d said that out loud. Just so dickmatized by the way his flared ridges were swervin’ all around your tight walls.
The curvaceous line of his cockhead nudges apart your channel, and you feel his hold tighten even further. “But the good news- you’re gonna take- ngh, my entire cock, won’t you?” Breathy. He was speeding up his cadence now. Long, thorough strokes. “Gonna take e-every single inch?”
“Yes-” You claw at the headboard, “Yes yes yes yes-”
And then rings the loudest squeeeelch ever as he’s fitting in a few more inches, “Mhmmm, and you’re gonna- ngh- love it.”
Both you and your sloppy pussy do - and he can tell.
All that arousal. All those cute noises you were making. You’re feeling the exact way the zig-zagged pattern of his veins massages your cunt, just perfectly scratching every carnal inch. And he’s almost bottoming-out, almost feeling his reddened tip hit the back of your pussy-
Before you clench around his rude cock—
And you hear the exact, shattered moment that Toji’s breath catches. “Oh fuck-” He stills, “Oh fuck, this won’t work-”
Blinking over your shoulder, “Toji?”
“Fuck.”
His bass cracks at the tail end of that profanity.
And in a mere instant - so fast that you don’t even have enough time to compute - you’re finding your head trapped in one of Toji’s infamous headlocks.
Sure, he’d often used it in a much less attractive way with his opponents.
But never had he used it like this. And you’re choking at the restraint of his flexing muscles, all bulged and big. His biceps digs perfectly against the front of your throat, and you feel your saliva come out in heaps- “Toji- Toji Toji Toji- oh, I can feel you hit my c-cervix.”
Sure enough, he’d dragged you back to bottom out.
The curvy tip of his shaft cutely bumpin’ your cervix, you feel a sticky layer of his precum drip out at the fact. Pulling back, back, baaaaack - right until his plump crown kisses your hole, and then all the way back in again.
In and out. In and out.
So thoroughly, he’s fucking his rock-hard cock into you. Leaving absolutely no hidden spot unturned, leaving your fuzzy brain in absolute shambles.
“You said- hah, you said I didn’t kiss you, right?” Toji rasps against the shell of your ear, his heated proximity making goosebumps run down your spine. And, honestly, at this point you can barely even remember the conversation that’d led up to him saying this. “Well, here I am now-”
“What you do…oh.”
His cock was hitting your cervix- smooching it. Hard, wettened kisses.
Over and over. Toji smashes you back against his pistoning hips, and with his other hand he’s sliding slithering a hand down to your pussy - spanking. “See? M’kissing her, too, now.” He’s tittering, so thoroughly proud of the way your mouth waters.
“That doesn’t cou-”
Smack!
“What was that—?”
The force of it is so pleasurable that your body automatically holds onto the headboard and tries to heave yourself upwards. Thrashing. To which Toji turns his beady eyes down at the futile escape route-
And immediately slams his hand down on the flat top of the headboard.
“Speak t’me, mama- what was, ngh, that?”
Splitting it straight down in two.
You gape stupidly at the way the bed frame easily cracks underneath his strength, and Toji’s taking the slight distraction as an opportunity to lean back onto his haunches.
And he’s taking you right with him.
Toji’s sitting back on his heels, his buttocks resting on the balls of his feet. And you’re somewhat seated on his lap, still having him fuck upwards into you- with this position, he’s reaching his globular tip so deeply.
Even further than he ever had before, he wetly glissades his tip to pierce your womb. “Ngh- fuck.” Grunting in your ear, “You can’t tell me that doesn’t count, doll.” So he did know what you were about to say.
Stirrin’ up your goopy insides, he feels like velvet inside. And you think he’s slowly molding your cunt to his exact size, every line of his vein, every inch. “See? One kiss.” Toji counts out, and immediately you’re feeling his cocktip swipe your cervix. Thudding. “Two kisses.” Another one. “Three kisses-”
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven- it’s on this one that his glistening wet tip manages to locate your g-spot. Since his shaft was more right-leaning, it was oh-so-easy for him to constantly glide down that one spot.
“E-eight-” You count out, by yourself.
And if you could see him right now, you’d have noticed the way that Toji’s predatory eyes widened with pleasant surprise. Oh, you were cockdrunk. He holds you down to him, “Oho? You can count it by yourself now, huh? Then- haaaah, how about- this?”
“Nine-” You blurt out, saliva sploshin’ down the entire front of your chin. “Ten- ngh, eleven.”
“That was actually twelve, but close enough.” He rolls his eyes - he couldn’t punish you too much for that, just a few sodden spanks at the forefront of your cunt. And that was it, really. He’d decided to go easy on you this time, really. Now for him to smoothly shovel his shaft into you, until you were idly reaching your second orgasm of the night.
Hah- as if.
After two slaps to your clit, the fighter edges himself close to your ear and mutters out. “If you can’t do that- could you at least, mm, fuck back into me.”
You whine, “Do I have to? But you do it so good…”
“Spoiled brat.” Yet another swat down on your slit, he caresses your clit as if making up for it. And before long, you’re feeling the spearheading tempo of his cock slow down. “C’mon now- up! There we go- get to work, doll.”
“Mmpf- you’re gonna pay for this.” You growl, doing your very best to try and get your legs to work. They’d been taking it for so long, limp at the pressure, that your hamstrings were positively screaming now. “Shit- but I wanna go faster, oh.”
Toji rolls his eyes with a scoff, “So go faster, girl. What’s the hold up?”
“It just feels so- so- oh.” It just felt so good is what you wanted to say - but you don’t sputter out the words right at that moment (you didn’t want to feed his ego too much).
“So so oh?” He mocks, “Didn’t I say this pretty pussy of yours was- oh, chattier? Think she might just be more articulate, too- heh.”
“Sh-shut up.”
And as if to prove a point, your sloppy drags only made your cunt echo out even louder. The skin on your ass cheeks burned after each slam against his hips, and Toji was just so ripped that every rut left the indentations of his v-line stinging.
“Ngh- fuck.” You arch your back and attempt to slide down his thick cock easier, rubbin’ that part of your g-spot against where his veins were most prominent.
You hated to admit it, but your limbs were growing all weary. And Toji lets out a huff of breathy laughter as he noticed the way your cadence seemed to be slowing down, “Mmm, feelin’ tired, are we? You’re not tapping out any time soon, m’kay?”
“But- but I’m so-” You whine, your fingers fisting in the silk bedsheets. They seemed to be the expensive type, yet ruined with a damp layer of sweat n’ slick. Soon enough, you’re dropping to the bed with a weary mewl. “-shit, I don’t know if I can go any longer-”
You don’t even get to finish your sentence.
You don’t even get to finish the lone, sloppy thrust that you were stumblin’ across
Not before Toji’s then taking over. He gets up off his haunches, pushing you rudely onto all fours again.
And this time? He wasn’t holding back.
“Allll that talk- cheh.” Toji’s spitting down at your pussy, lubricating it once again despite you not even needing it. Before long, you’re being pounded by his long, heavy cock- feeling every single inch in your throat. “But your Toji just has to finish this pretty pussy off, hm?”
“Yes- yes-” You don’t even feel slightly embarrassed in admitting, “Jus’ wanna cum, Toji- ngh, I’m so close.”
“Oh, mama, I know.” Two rugged pads of his fingers come down to slap your clit, smoothing it over with a few gentle rolls. But you’re so far gone at this point that even that makes you see stars- “And you’re gonna cum allll over my- hah, cock, alright? All over.”
Nodding pathetically, you were just drippin’ in spit and sweat. Body shaking with the pangs of pleasure already- “All over b-but you then you have to cum right in here, okay?”
His breath catches, “Wh-where?” Toji stutters.
Blissfully ignorant, you point down the front of your stomach. Drawing a line right where you could feel his rotund tip bottoming out after every thrust, “I don’t think m’gonna last that long.”
“Oh.”
There was something broken in his voice as he registers what you were just telling him with your actions - that you wanted him to finish inside. To pump you so full of cum that it’ll drip out of you. To make sure you feel him from the outside and the inside.
He’s fucking you so hard that the skin ‘round his pelvis had begun to rub raw, slightly overstimulating his tip against the softness of your cunt. Toji pushes down on your body, pinning you down with his weight.
Manhandling you.
So much manhandling.
In this mean doggy position, he leans down and pinches your clit. “Oh, doll, you can’t even imagine what m’gonna do to ya-” Ruined. Shattered baritone. “-don’t even know how far m’gonna fill you up with my cum. You’re gonna be- ngh, overspilling.”
“Yes yes yes- I want it.” And now you’re gyrating your hips back into his- hah, he could almost tease you for it. So you had the desperation now? “Please- give it t’me-”
“Nuh uh, you have to cum first.”
“But- ngh.” A pinch at your clit, a puckering kiss. And Toji hits your g-spot so hard that you swear you see the pearly gates of heaven: you’re cumming.
Wave after wave of your white-hot high.
The pleasure thrums in your veins, and you’re crying out as Toji hits every precious spot with his globular tip. Pinpointed precisely. Your knees weaken- you were mistaken earlier, this was the best orgasm you’ve ever had.
He’s not too far behind.
With a grunt, Toji cums. And after every riveting peak of your high, he’s pourin’ out in sticky wads of cum. It’s like an ivory sap that takes over every inch of your insides, hot and wet.
You squeal as you feel the gluey layer of it stuff you to the brim, ultimately ending up formulating a ring of white around the girth of his hilt. “Cumming-” You blabber tearily, your brain foggy with the feeling of him cumming inside you. Turning around to face him, “I’m c-cumming, Toji.”
“Mmm, you are. So pretty takin’ my- ngh, cum.” Toji’s rough lips kiss down the line of your spine, and his fingers dip from your clit to tease your creamy slit. “I love this view.”
The more he’s swiping away the droplets of cum that pour out of your pussy, the more that keeps sprinkling out - and he honestly doesn’t know whether that’s his fault or yours.
Letting the treacly glaze drip down to his wrist, Toji brings his sticky hand up to your mouth. “Spread those lips f’me, doll- yeahhh, like that.” He murmurs, thickly. And you whimper as he sticks his adhesive-like fingertips into your mouth, making you suck on the salty sap.
Cleaning it off.
It feels like years - almost like eons - until Toji’s finally finished riding out his high, just as strong as yours. He hunches over as he cums-
“Oh, we’re not done y-yet, doll.” Too soon, you’re being dragged back into his hulking body. And since he was finally done with webbing up your insides, now came the fun part where he was fucking it in. Each n’ every gooey wad seeped into your innards. Those earlier specks that’d leaked out from before? Well he’s using his fingers to push those in, too. “You didn’t think that a world-class fighter had a stamina that low, did ya?”
Gasping, you don’t think you can trust your very eardrums right now. “So you mean to say…”
“Mhm.” Toji’s fucking you into utter stupidity- easily flipping you over, you’re being folded into the sloppiest mating press in existence. He mutters to you as he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending you down. “Y’know…MMA championships have five rounds.”
“Oh- and?”
Toji just grins, drilling out a heavy thrust. “One down, four to go, mama.”
.
.
.
“Wow! That was a mean right hook, I definitely wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that strength.” You bite back a grin at the commentator’s voice—oh, how you knew. “Toji Fushiguro sends Naoya Zenin flying–”
You can’t bring yourself to wince as the two-tone-haired man lands on the other side of the octagon with a shuddering thud.
Too excited from your seat in the cageside area - the closest you could be to the fighters - as part of the team. It was your first time officially accompanying Toji to one of his big fights, as his physical therapist.
And his lover.
Though, that part was a secret (more or less, you swear you’d seen most of the gym giving you knowing looks whenever you clocked into work walking a little funny, or whenever Toji had sauntered into the locker room; hickies, nail marks, and all). But for now you settled into your role as the alert physical therapist, watching out for any points in which Toji showed signs of discomfort or soreness.
“Can you hear the crowd- they’re in uproar!”
“Well, it’s no wonder. Toji Fushiguro’s comeback has been long-awaited- ouch, that’s a nice uppercut from Toji.” Another voice bellows.
And the others hum in agreement. “And after his unfortunate streak last year, the champion found his footing once more. With a winning streak that’s one of the longest recorded in recent years, the man is unstoppable!”
“I guess the million dollar question of the night is - can he win the finals tonight?”
Though your efforts were likely for naught, because your boyfriend was at the top of his game.
Without letting Naoya even get up (some rookie hotshot, according to Toji, who had to be put in his place), the older man is pummeling him with a right hook, left hook, right hook, left hook. Until that cocky face of his looked mangled.
And the referee is rushing to his side- about to crouch on the floor for the countdown. The commentators have their announcement of his win on the tip of their tongue. The crows is already reaching a fever point-
It’s in that moment that Toji looks at you.
Towering, the lone fighter standing in the middle of the cage, he stares.
He smiles.
He points.
“Aaaaand the countdown is over—Naoya Zenin down! Toji Fushiguro has won the title of world light heavyweight champion once more! It’s a historical win for Toji!”
You’re all on your feet. The team claps each other on the back, the commentators are shaking hands. Shiu catches the way that Toji immediately heads for you - barely waiting till the heavy golden belt was draped across his body, barely letting the referee raise his hand in the air. Victory.
And he chuckles, “I already knew.” Taking a celebratory drag of his cigarette, “Guess I’m winning the bet.”
Your eyes bulge, “You guys bet on us?”
“Ever since the first day you walked in, sugar.” He chuffs, and lightly nudges your shoulder with his. “No go to him- before he tears down the cage, that is.”
Shiu was right to be worried. By the time you’re reaching the edge of the octagon, Toji has already jumped down from it- and you’re barely registering his brilliant grin before you’re in his arms. His face crushed into the nook of your neck. Arms looped around your waist.
In the distance, it seems, you can hear reporters and fans alike scream questions about you and your relationship. Something you’re sure will end up on every headline and front page of those sports gossip magazines that you now read. Hell, you can even hear the members of your team catcall and howl from the sidelines.
But right now, it’s as if Toji’s voice is the only sound in your ears. “We won.”
You smile, “You won.”
He shakes his head, “Come off it, silly girl. We won.” And even in front of everyone else, even in front of the cameras, he nods down at the very obvious bite marks on your neck. The way your knees were slightly weak. Your core was slightly sore. Evidence of last night. “And m’gonna win a whole lot more tonight-”
“Five rounds just like this championship, then?” You tease, squirming in his strong arms. And he only pulls you even tighter to him-
“Actually, I hear the IMMAF is trying to make it six rounds…”
A/N. Listen I don’t condone J*o J*ekyung but Toji?? Gimme.
Plagiarism not authorized.
