┃your brother would kill you if he knew how dirty you get with his best friend.
──────────────────────────────
"Shut up. It's like you want to get caught."
his mouth is clamped on your face, trying to contain the moans escaping your mouth but his hand could only do so much. You're straddling his giant quads while he thrusts up into you from below.
It's 2am. You're supposed to be sleeping but instead, you're getting fucked by your brother's best friend. Your brother is sleeping a couple rooms down, completely unaware.
"Get off." he demands.
"Wha— why?"
"You don't know how to shut the fuck up."
He's lifting you off, but you clutch on to his shoulders, gluing yourself to him.
"I-I'm sorry, I'll shut up, please don't stop." you're so close to unraveling but it's just so, so hard to keep quiet. He reaches over to the foot of the bed and grab the panties he ripped off of you moments ago.
"Open."
You open your mouth and feel your own panties being shoved in your mouth. You look at him with wide, clueless eyes that ask him, "why?", but he thrusts up into you harshly, telling you to deal with it.
squelch squelch squelch
is all you hear right now, and the occasional groan from Toji. His hands hold your arms behind your back, leaving you helpless.
He's thrusting inside your warm cunt, fast and hard, chasing his own high. His mouth is slightly open, and his breath hits your shoulder blade, making you shiver.
"You're just gonna' let me use you like this? Huh?"
His hands move down to your ass, spreading you wide open so you can take all of him. You want to tell him it's too much, but you don't dare take the cloth out of your mouth; you know how mean he could be.
You resort to slapping him harshly on his chest, but he only slaps you right across the face. You whine loudly, arching your back in pain.
"Too much? Poor baby. Too bad you can't talk, huh?" he coos.
You love it. You love it so, so much. The way he's so much bigger than you made the sex 10x better, and he's so strong, putting you in whatever position he wanted you in.
"Can I fill you up, baby? Make you all mine?" how can you say no when he's asking so nicely?
You bob your head up and down, pleading him with your watery eyes. He comes so hard inside of you that his body is twitching aggressively in pleasure; his groans turned into soft moans, making you come all over him soon after. You both stay there, still dazed.
You take your panties out of your mouth, "Asshole," but you only earn a sharp slap to your ass.
knock knock knock
"Hey, is everything alright in there? Have you seen Toji?"
I guess the panties weren't as effective as Toji thought.
a toji fushiguro fanfiction where he's trying to teach babygumi how to say 'dada' but he just says mama all the time. [from this ask.]
toji fushiguro x wife!reader ft. babygumi.
ⵌ sorry if there are any grammar errors!! im lowk flopping.. oh and art from @/thatsallitchief !
fatherhood had changed Toji in ways he'd never admit.
not dramatically, no. he's still grumpy, still impatient, and still looked permanently annoyed whenever someone interrupted his peace.
but somewhere along the way, he'd become the kind of man who could spent twenty minutes sitting on the floor with his baby doing absolutely nothing. and he somewhat enjoy it.
the apartment was quiet that afternoon.
sun spilled through the windows, warming the carpet where Megumi sat surrounded by his blocks.
Toji lounged on the couch, one arm draped over it, watching his son knock over a tower he'd the last spent 10 minutes building
Toji snorted at the delighted squeal Megumi let out. "Dumbass."
Megumi looked up, his face brightened instantly. then, he abandoned his blocks without hesitation.
he crawled straight into Toji's lap.
"There he is," Toji muttered, scooping him up and balancing him on
Megumi giggled as Toji pressed an absent kiss to the top of his head. the action was so natural it made you smiled at the sight.
Toji noticed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like i'm acting cute or something."
you pointed. "Can you blame me? My husband and baby are over there being all domestic."
Megumi chose that moment to grab a handful of Toji's t-shirt and used it to pull himself upright. Toji immediately steadied him with one hand.
he rolled his eyes. "Domestic. Right."
your laughter filled the room. "See? He's being clingy with you!"
slowly, realization crossed his face. "... shut up." and you laughed once again.
hearing your voice made Megumi twisted around immediately in Toji's lap. the second he spotted you, he lightened up.
you waved at him, making him squeal. he started bouncing excitedly Toji had to tighten his hold before Megumi launched himself to the floor.
"Relax," he sighed. and Megumi completely ignored him.
tiny hands reached toward you, a string of babble followed.
"Hi, sweetie," you smiled at him.
Toji watched the interaction with narrowed eyes. he looked down at his son, then back at you.
a thought occured to him. "I wanna see if he can say dada," he said suddenly.
"Hm?" you hummed, sitting down next to him. "Oh, try it! I wanna see it too!"
Toji steadied Megumi on his lap before tapping a finger against his own chest.
"This is dada. daaa-da," he repeated, tapping his finger again. "Give it a shot, Megs."
Megumi stared up at him. you, on the other hand, already fighting smile.
he blinked once. twice. then his entire face brightened.
"Mama!"
your hand immediately flew to your mouth, trying to hold in your laugh. Toji's face didn't change, which is making it worse for you.
"No," he said slowly. "Dada,"
"Mama!" Megumi giggled.
"No, Megs—"
"Mamamamamama!" he babbles while kicking his feet excitedly.
you lost the battle and laughed. hard. earning a glare from Toji.
"Don't laugh."
"But he's being cute, 'ji!"
"He's doing this on purpose."
Toji looked back down on him.
"Listen carefully," he said, pointing to himself again. "Dada," then he pointed at you. "Mama."
Megumi followed the movement of his finger, good.
Toji nodded encouragingly. "Now, who is this?" he asked.
Megumi stared, you can see the gears in his head working. Toji waited, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. maybe he will get it right this time?
after a moment, Megumi pointed directly at Toji, a triumphant smile spread across his face.
"Mama."
you buried your face into you husband's shoulder, still laughing, while he looked like he'd just been betrayed.
"No, we're not done."
"We absolutely should be done," you giggled.
"We're making progress," he insisted.
"What progress, honey?"
"He pointed at me!"
"And then he called you mama."
Toji ignored you at that.
Megumi, meanwhile, had become fascinated with his dad's hair.
a tiny fist wrapped around his black locks and immediately pulled, making Toji wince.
"Ow," he winced. "You brat."
the little menace looked far too pleased with himself. Toji carefully pried the tiny finger from his hair.
"He's assaulting me."
Megumi reached for his hair again, but this time, Toji caught the attack before it could happen.
"Absolutely not."
the baby pouted, like actually pouted. just for two seconds though.. because something else caught his attention.
his tiny hands moved to Toji's face instead. you watched as Megumi pressed both palm against his father's cheeks, squishing them slightly.
"What's going on in that little head of yours, hm?" Toji muttered.
Megumi blinked. then, slowly, he reached forward.
a sloppy baby kiss landed on Toji's cheek.
you melted immediately. "Look how cute he is!"
Toji sighed. a long, defeated sigh. one large hand came up to ruffle Megumi's unruly hair.
"Yeah, yeah."
Megumi beamed again. "Mama."
Toji groaned and dropped his head against the couch. "He's unbelievable."
Megumi, completely unaware of the devastation he'd caused, snuggled into Toji's chest and let out a sleepy yawn. within seconds, his eyelids started drooping.
Toji's arm protectively tightened around him.
you leaned against Toji's shoulder, smiling at the sight.
after everything, Megumi had fallen asleep right where he was the happiest. in his dad's embrace.
he clicked his tongue. "I'm still gonna try to make him call me dada."
you laughed quietly. "Yeah, good luck with that."
Toji rolled his eyes. "You're not helping. at all."
but he didn't stop holding Megumi, not even a second.
feat quarterback!toji x camgirl chem partner!reader
summary: Toji Fushiguro considers himself a very generous man, especially after using part of his D1 quarterback paycheck towards his favorite camgirl. If anything, he's a patron of the arts: dedicated, curious, and always ready for the next big thing. So when he finds out his quiet little chem partner has the same bedroom as his idol? Well... color him intrigued.
content: MDNI 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, camgirl!reader, chem partner!reader, quarterback!toji, fratboy!toji fanboy!toji, jjk college au, no use of “y/n”, prn with a ridiculous amount of plot, oral (m!receiving, f!receiving), piv, squírtíng, dumbification, toji has a biiiiig d, dáddy k!nk, size k!nk, brééding, etc.
word count: 10.1k (i don't play abt this man)
author's note: all credits of the above pictures go to their creators. The left-most picture is from thatsallitchief on X or tiktok. If anyone knows the artist of the right-most picture let me know so I can tag them!
toji's pre-game playlist: gemstone - don toliver, homecoming - lil uzi vert, don't kill the party - ty dolla $ign, love me - lil wayne, you - don toliver, nightcrawler - travis scott
These were intense times.
The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed.
There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft.
As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses.
It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk.
Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones.
As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf.
Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field.
His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table.
He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer.
Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls.
She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself.
And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts.
His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded.
“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”.
Part one?!
He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one.
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The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20.
And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name.
“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”
He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty.
But in the lecture hall? Well…
His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II.
He was truly a lost cause.
He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never).
So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago.
At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast.
Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you.
And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter.
It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.
In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.
“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”
It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.
You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.
He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.
He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him.
His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter.
Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”
You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen.
For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.
What the fuck?
He took your phone.
“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”
He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones.
“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”
He hated how his dick twitched at your words.
But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.
He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake!
His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”
You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!
And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.
After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.
He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.
You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday.
The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission.
And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill.
He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.
Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days.
And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days.
“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both.
You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe.
He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…
“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare.
“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power.
You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!
You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache.
The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?”
He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly.
You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips.
“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you.
He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag.
“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”
And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest.
A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand.
“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.”
His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away.
“It’s a small place,” you warned.
He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”
He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them.
You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”
For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world.
All he could do was swallow and nod.
He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door.
The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road.
Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row.
The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen.
Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.
And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.
He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–
He coughed lightly.
What was he thinking?
As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine.
Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.
It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.
“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table.
You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down.
He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room.
And, holy shit.
No.
There was genuinely no way in hell.
He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it.
His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body?
Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.
His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it.
Everything looked familiar.
Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–
“Can I help you?”
You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours.
You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.
And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words.
All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.
“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??”
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He scoured through every single video and rewatched every single clip that night.
The furniture, the decor, the walls, the window placement: everything was the same.
And so, the verdict was in: you–his quiet, guarded, asocial, and steely chem partner–were none other than stargiirl herself.
What. The. Fuck.
It was confusing to wrap his head around, this whole stargiirl-chemgirl business. But would he go as far to say that it wasn’t attractive? That he didn’t pop a boner every time he thought about it?
No. He couldn’t. He’d never.
Was this divine intervention or his own personal hell?
He couldn’t tell.
What does this mean? How should he act? What does he fucking do with this information now?
He rubbed his temples before running a tense hand through his hair. At the same time, a notification popped up on his computer.
“Check out a new post from stargiirl_xx !”
He could feel the blood in his veins thumping against his skin.
“Don’t do it. Please don’t fucking do it-” he mumbled.
He tapped into the link despite himself.
“Lessons In Vibration Pt II”
He wordlessly clicked the play button on the video.
For a moment, he thought his screen was buffering. The camera was set up to look out onto your bed, though you were not in frame yet, presumably twiddling with the settings of your camera.
But when you finally did walk into view, his heart nearly imploded.
The frame only showed you from the mouth down, your identity mainly concealed. You were bottomless, bare legs walking across the floor as you situated yourself on your bed. The only piece of clothing you did have on was an overlarge sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, one that he, in his panicked daze to get out of your apartment earlier, forgot he had left behind.
He didn’t dare breathe, nor could he move. His head was craned so close to his computer, as if he wanted to go through the screen itself just to get a better look.
He noted how his hoodie fell past your ass, large and consuming and honestly? So fuckin’ perfect on you.
You were nearing the end of your normal introduction, and he realized you spoke differently on video, low and confident and sensual and hypnotic.
“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about my content throughout the years,” your hands started to draaag the bottom of his hoodie up, letting it bunch just slightly above the dip of your waist, enunciating your curves. “-And I’ve realized I’ve never had a partner during any of them.”
The comments on the side bar started to flood through, hundreds of viewers already volunteering themselves to be your +1.
His jaw ticked, hard.
“I think,” you leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. Toji gripped onto his computer until a faint pop! could be heard of one of the inner screws coming loose. “I think I would like to change that in the future,” and then you smiled, really smiled, a full, playful grin wiping across your features in a way he had never been able to see in person before.
His dick bobbed in his pants.
This could not be happening to him right now.
You continued, “but for now, welcome back to my Lessons in Vibrations series.”
He watched as you started introducing the toys you would be using today, before you slowly began to touch yourself, teasingly showing glimpses of the purple lace panties you had on underneath his hoodie.
And he couldn’t help it, really.
Because when you started rubbing your vibrator against your clit, your deft fingers plunging skillfully into your cunt, soft whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy started squelching out a fucking melody – all while wearing his fuckin’ sweatshirt – what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
His sweats were already halfway down his thighs, and his meaty hand greedily pumping his own cock in sync to you fucking yourself on your fingers.
He watched hungrily as you pushed his sweatshirt up further along your body, exposing your stomach, teasing the view of your bare tits. He bit back a groan at the thought of your scent lingering in the fabric, and prayed to whatever deity above that you wouldn’t wash it out before he got it back.
Below, your fingers languidly teased the head of your vibrator against your entrance. It was the insertable kind, with a slender tip and curved body, the type that had your hole trying to suck up the device with every rub against your dripping slit.
He could feel the veins in his cock pulsing hotly in anticipation, pushing up thick pearls of precum out onto his flared tip.
He wondered what it would be like to slip his shaft against your drenched pussy lips, to massage the underside of his cockhead against the tight ring of your entrance, to feel you squeezing around him, and to hear the sounds you would make just for him.
He gulped, cool sweat starting to form on his brow. You were beginning to fuck the device into you, pumping the vibrator in and out and in and out. He could see your legs trembling, your juices starting to uncontrollably splash outside of you, and your pussylips fluttering with every bzzz bzz bzzzzzt of the vibrator fucking and swirling and massaging into your g-spot.
He was matching your pace, furiously pumping his dick, thinking about how you looked on all fours earlier, thinking about how you smiled when you called him his name, thinking about how you look when you concentrate and the mole above your brow, thinking about the coffee you made for him and the weird shitposts you sent and the way you could look at him like he was nothing, and everything, all at the same time.
And suddenly, he wasn’t climaxing to the stargiirl he had always seen on screen.
It was his tough, quiet, calm chem partner.
And as he shot hot spurts of thick, ropey cum all the way from his dick to his chin (the most he’s ever released before), he realized only one thing.
He just finished to the thought of you.
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Toji Fushiguro had a problem.
No, scratch that.
He had a fucking crisis.
It was drill day, and his head was absolutely nowhere near the turf. He fumbled balls, missed targets, and was a full thirty-seconds under his usual sprint times.
And that was only how one of his practices went this week.
It had been five whole days since he last saw you.
Five days of being dogshit at his sport.
Five days of holing up in his frat, avoiding campus, avoiding class, avoiding your texts, avoiding you.
It’s not like he wanted to do this, but he didn’t know what to do, how to act, or what to even say.
How could he talk to you casually while knowing he’s given probably a third of his checks to you? How could he be normal in your presence knowing that he’s watched every single one of your streams, and in turn has finished an embarrassing amount of times to each of them?
How could he trust himself when the thought of you alone had his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt? Or how his chest squeezed so tight he almost went to urgent care, just because you texted asking where he’s been and if he was okay?
How could he face you, knowing that he somehow developed the largest, fattest, most egregious fuckin’ crush on you?!
And, for the record, Toji Fushiguro did not do crushes. He hadn’t necessarily “ran through” the entire roster of available chicks on campus, but he did have an occasional fling, nothing serious, nothing long, nothing that would distract him from football and his dreams.
He was known as the campus heartthrob and heartbreaker. He was Mr. Non-Chalant, Mr. Everybody-Wants-A-Piece-of-Him, and Mr. I-Don’t-Get-Attached all wrapped up in one 6’4, 230 lbs body.
A crush? That was new, unexplored territory for him.
He stared down at your last texts to him.
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:03pm): i got us a nice spot!! im sitting on 2nd floor @ clark ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Ba-dump!
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:18pm): knock knock, is mr. toji theree
Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:56pm): hey, is everythin ok? r we still on for today?
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–
⭐️ (Saturday, 10:01am): r u alive
It physically sickened him that he couldn’t get his cowardly fingers to just fucking write back. But every time he opened up your text chain, all he could do was stare.
Which is exactly why he couldn’t see you yet.
He needed time.
He needed space.
He needed to get this shit under control.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, the Kappa Epsilon fraternity was throwing a rager tonight. With the group of men only one week out from the next bracket of playoffs, this would be the last night the football frat would get to drink together for a while if they were to make it to the finals.
It would be the perfect distraction.
About an hour or so into the party and he was buzzed. He absolutely demolished that shithead Ryomen in beer pong, crushed a pack of PBRs, and now was cooling off in the kitchen, his body feeling swimmy and light.
He reached for his phone. Maybe, just maybe, if he looked at your messages again for the umpteenth time today, maybe he would know what to say, maybe he–
“Ah, so you can come out and party but ignore all of my texts?”
His heart did that stupid thing where it pounded so hard against his chest he wondered if his ribs bruised.
Despite the booming of the bass coming from the room over, and the idle chatter of randoms idling in the kitchen, he could hear the dry, unimpressed, and entirely too familiar voice coming directly from behind him.
He turned, his eyes lowering to find you, as if it was muscle memory, as if it was his second nature.
You never showed up to these parties (and trust, he has invited you to them all). Yet here you were, your body leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest, and your hair falling around your frame.
He grinned, the buzz in his head making it easy for a stupidly cheeky and wide and boyish smile to plaster onto his face. (a/n: toji has a hung smile. Okay? Okay.).
“Hey, party animal,” he said, almost dreamily.
The top you wore clung to you like a second skin, accentuating the swells of your breasts and the dip of your waist: features that you usually hid underneath your normal, bulkier campus-attire.
He was indecisive, his eyes bouncing between the unreadable look on your face to the sliver of exposed skin right above your miniskirt.
You looked good, really fuckin’ good.
Your eyes widened, before your cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of red, your manicured fingers tightening around the plastic solo cup you were holding
Did he say that outloud?!
You straightened, steeling yourself, willing the warmth in your cheeks to go away. “You’ve ignored me for five days, Fushiguro-” your voice was firm and cool, cutting sharply through the noise of the party.
Back to the last name basis.
You looked away, before adding, “-and you ditched me on Thursday.” You spoke that last part softly, deliberately, a look of sadness flashing briefly in your pretty, doe-like eyes.
A dull pang rippled through his chest.
He knew the implications of your words – the two of you never missed a meetup since this whole “deal” started.
And, like those days in the libraries or cafes where he found himself sitting before you, following your every word and direction, he now found himself moving towards you, a small pout forming on his scarred lips, as his strong arms caged you in until you were wedged between himself and the counter.
And, you knew he was huge before.
But now, up close, you realized just how large he was - his broad shoulders obscuring your view, his muscular chest rippling under the tight black shirt he wore, and his huge hands riddled with veins that climbed up, up, up his forearms.
He was overwhelming and all-consuming, surrounding your senses with the kind of intensity only he alone could pull off. You breathed in, your chest rising, fighting against the cotton of your ill-fitting top. He smelled of fresh pine and warm leather, clean and raw and manly.
You came here pissed, but now found your resolve completely fogged and muddled.
He leaned forward, dipping his head low, until his shaggy fringe tickled softly against the shell of your ear.
You knew he had been drinking, but the question was, did he know what he was doing right now? Was this purposeful? Was this real? You couldn’t quite tell, but the way his breath stuttered as his nose traced light patterns into your neck, the way he was breathing you in, and the way his hands periodically clenched onto the countertop as if to restrain himself, told you he was at least semi aware of what he was doing.
Your heart was hammering in your chest. The two of you never stood this close before, let alone touched each other.
You turned your head slightly, trying to put at least some ounce of space between your face and his.
But for him? That just would not do.
He slowly pulled away from your neck, his nose lightly mapping a path from the base of your neck, across the soft expanse of your cheek, to the tip of your own. Noses brushing, breaths mingling, chests heaving, and hearts pounding as his scarred lips hovered your glossed ones.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
The air between you was warm and thick, charged with something tender and so deeply intimate.
“Because you scare me,” he mumbled.
“Oh, really?” Your mouth twitched.
“Mm.” He nodded once, nose rubbing softly against yours in an eskimo kiss. You could see how his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips dangerously close to pressing against yours.
“‘Think ya cursed me.” His neck flushed red, his low voice was barely above a whisper.
“I can go-”
“Don’t.”
And then his large hands were latching onto your waist, the heat of his skin searing through the thin material of your skirt.
“Don’t. Don’tDon’tDon’t.” His brows scrunched together, his face becoming serious. “Don’t go. Don’t leave. Not when you’re here, with me, pretty girl.”
You breathed, taking your time to steady your voice after hearing the pet name roll off his tongue. “Then what should I do?”
“Stay.”
It was as simple as that, really.
And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft and commanding. He kissed you like you were sin, drinking you in, savoring you on his tongue, before inevitably, always inevitably, going back for more. He didn’t let you breathe; he wouldn’t. He was greedy and wrong and possessive, claiming your mouth like it was his alone to conquer. Your knees weakened as his tongue massaged against yours addictively, molding against you like you were made for him; like he was made for you.
Your hands moved before you could think, before you could decide if you were angry with him or if you hungered for him. You found purchase on his broad shoulders, before making your way up, up, up to his neck, one hand running through his dark hair while the other held onto the underside of his strong jaw, thumb gently caressing the scar on the side of his mouth, pulling him in.
He pressed into you further, your ass hitting the lower counter. His body was flush against yours, his chest purposefully rubbing against your tits.
He could feel your nipples hardening through the flimsy cotton of your top, and he couldn’t stop the sleazy grin that was forming on his face.
Below, his grip on you was gentle but firm, bringing your body to press and grind against his in an unhurried, languid way, like he had all the time in the world, like all of this was fated from the start.
And his fingers, oh his fingers, which spanned across your hip, slowly found their way to your ass, gripping and cupping and kneading into the soft, jiggly flesh.
You could feel something move against your thigh, something sturdy and heavy and completely fucking monstruous.
“Haah-” you shakily sighed out, breathy and dazed as you looked down to the outline of his bulge. Your eyes widened.
“I like when you use that smart mouth, y’know,” he was talking against your lips, not able to find it in himself to pull away. His hand slid up the side of your waist, until he stopped right underneath your breast, his thumb rubbing against the underside of where it started to swell.
His voice dropped an octave lower, whispering to you like it was a secret. “Talk to me. Break this curse. Tell me it’s not just me that feels like this.”
Please.
His heart was racing. He was stone cold sober. This was it. This was his admission.
ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–
You breathed.
The party raged on in the background, muddled and distant, like his ears were submerged under water–
“It’s not just you, Toji.”
Your voice was quiet, your cheeks tinted rouge, your pretty eyes looking up at him in earnest.
And that was all he needed.
He picked you up like you were nothing (his bench was 350 lbs, squat 600 lbs, and his hip thrusts? don’t even worry ‘bout it), a smug, victorious grin tugging at his scarred lips.
He carried you out of the kitchen, and a steady stream of wolf whistles and howls erupted from his frat brothers and party goers as the two of you made your way across the foyer, up the stairs, and towards a bedroom. His bedroom.
He carried you inside, keeping the lights off, letting the warm glow of the streetlamp beside his window spill softly across the room. Without a word, he set you down on his large king-sized bed.
The air in his room was tender and still. You could hear the faint bass of the stereo downstairs, vibrating against his wooden floors like a heartbeat. The distant cheers of the crowd down below faded to quiet as he pressed his mouth to your own.
He leisurely climbed over you, never breaking the kiss, his muscular arms holding his body above your own.
It didn’t take long for the makeout to turn heated again, teeth clashing against teeth, bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and teasing in a way that had your head spinning.
You put your hands against his chest.
“Toji-”
“Stay,” he breathed, whispering the words against your lips, like he could read your mind. “-Stay with me tonight,” he pressed his body closer into you, rutting his hips, “and lemme show you the things I’ve been wantin’ to say to you all week.”
You could feel his cock twitch ominously against your bare thigh as you swallowed.
His lips were swollen and glistening from your mixed salivas, his eyes glazed over, jade irises almost completely black. His grip on your lower body was unrelenting, holding you in place.
You lightly pushed your hand against his chest, a hesitant look crossing your features.
A beat passed. For a second, he didn’t even realize he stopped breathing.
“You’ve been drinking,” You paused, your voice coming out small. “What if.. what if you don’t mean this in the morning?”
And for all your expertise and genius, oh, how completely wrong you could be.
He let out a humorless chuckle, his sharp canines peaking through his lips in the process.
“Did it sound like I was jokin’, sweetheart?” He shakily exhaled through his nose as he pressed his erection against your clothed cunt, holding himself there, letting you feel the pressure and full weight of what he was packing. “Does it feel like I’m jokin’ ‘bout this?”
You bit your lip, pussy throbbing, a warm slickness starting to soak through your panties, before messily spreading between your clenched thighs.
You shook your head.
“What’d I say about usin’ your words?”
He pulsed his dick, the sensation making your pussy clench.
Fuckin’ tease.
“Nngh- no. No it doesn’t feel like you’re joking,” you almost gasp out.
A satisfied smirk plastered onto his tanned face.
“Good girl.”
And then he’s moving down the bed, his calloused hands spreading your legs as he pressed wet kisses against the hot skin of your thighs. He was methodical and slow, making his way up your inner thigh, savoring the small sounds that you tried to suppress as he reached the bottom hem of your skirt, his face mere inches away from your sopping pussy, and his breath puffing warm air against your dampened panties .
“Ohhh jus’ look at ya,” you could tell he had the most shit-eating grin on his face right now, pride swelling in his voice as he carefully dipped a large, rough finger between the seam of the thin purple fabric you adorned. “This all f’me?”
And - Holy shit.
The videos of you didn’t even do this justice.
Because low and behold, here you were, under his body, and you were so fuckin’ wet. His finger slid against your folds with little resistance, putting just enough pressure that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he rubbed circles against your clit.
And, Toji Fushiguro never claimed to be a patient man. So, it should’ve came as no surprise when he grabbed your hips and used his hulking strength to push your clothed pussy to his scarred lips, his face nuzzled to your cunt, nose pressed firmly to your clit, and his greedy tongue lapping you up through the soiled fabric.
It was obscene and perverse and dirty and wrong.
But oh, how he loved it. Loved the heady taste you left on your panties, and the sweet scent of your gushing pussy, and the excess slick on your thighs that made its way onto his rough cheeks.
He groaned, a low, guttural sound against your skin that made your tummy squeeze into knots.
“T-Toji, please,” you whined, pressing your greedy cunt into his face, “need your tongue. Need you. Need more.” You could hardly string a true sentence together, and he hadn’t even fucked you proper yet.
His heart was thunderous against his chest.
And his dick?
Hardest it’s ever fuckin’ been in his fuckin’ life.
He was grinding his erection against the mattress as he obliged your wishes.
After all, how could he say no to you?
He pushed your panties to the side.
And oh.
His balls tightened below him, the urge to cum almost threateningly near as he stared at your bare, swollen pussy.
Holy. Shit.
Everything was soaked and glistening.
He rubbed one thumb across your puffy skin, his coarse finger getting soaked in the process.
He leaned in, gingerly licking fat stripes along your folds, lapping you up, drinking you in. He worked thoroughly, gathering you onto his tongue, until the lower part of his face was a mixture of your juices and his drool.
It was only after he was satisfied with his work did he make his way to your clit, humming and sucking, the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your cunt filling the air of his room.
The warm pleasure of it all was beginning to pool in your belly, your toes beginning to curl, legs beginning to shake – but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
“Toji, I might-”
He plunged a rough, thick finger inside you, spearing your tight velvet walls apart, all the way up to his knuckle.
You saw fuckin’ stars.
The sound you made was so erotic, so loud and depraved and raw, that his dick lurched in his pants, warm gooey pre-cum beginning to leak out from his throbbing tip and into his briefs.
He wanted to hear you again, and again and again and again.
He wanted videos, home movies, and spotify playlists of the way your pussy was talking to him.
Emboldened, his tongue was unrelenting on your clit, as one finger became two, and then two became three.
You mewled as he crooked them up, massaging against that soft, spongey bundle of nerves that had you panting his name out like it was prayer.
Your ears were ringing, your eyes beginning to get wet with tears.
Soon, he was fucking you on his fingers proper, setting a debilitating pace as he plunged his digits in and out and in and out. Filling you up, stretching you out, hitting your most sensitive areas. Again, and again, and again.
The pressure in your core was reaching its limits now, and the pleasure from the sheer fullness of your pussy and the sinful patterns of his tongue were beginning to send violent tremors down your legs.
You were orgasming before you even realized it.
And yet, he was didn’t stop – didn’t even give you time to breathe as he’s diving into your pussy, slurping you up, his large nose rubbing against your over-sensitive clit as he’s fucking his thick tongue and his fingers past the tight ring of your entrance, fucking you, warm and wet, through each of your peaks.
Your hands held onto his hair like a lifeline, your fleshy thighs locked around his head as if to keep him in place.
“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes glazed over, completely and utterly pussy drunk, as you looked down at him, his mouth still latched onto your cunt.
You could see your slick dripping down his face, mixing with the light trails of perspiration that sprouted from his temples.
Your heart squeezed in your chest.
It was only after the last few waves of your orgasm subsided when you could finally respond.
“I think,” you gently reached down to run your shaky hand through his scalp, tenderly pushing away the sweaty fringe by his eyes. “I think I can think of something that might taste better.”
And then you’re pushing him until he’s moving to the top of the bed, his back resting against the headboard as he pulls his black shirt up and over his head, triceps flexing, exposing his muscular pecs, washboard abs, and the light tufts of hair that sprouted on his chest, and got increasingly darker the further down his abs it went.
You could feel your pussy walls clamp down, warmth pooling in your core again as you reached out instinctively to run your hands along the length of his torso.
You never thought, in all of your wildest dreams, that this would be happening. Nor could your dreams do justice to the perfect build of the man before you.
“Well look at you, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your soft hands slowly sliding up, up, up against his skin, all the way from where the dark tufts of thick hair started to disappear under his pants, and towards his pecs, feeling the way his traitorous heart stuttered as you called his name. “Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”
You held his gaze, the air around you charged with anticipation.
Who would move first?
His breathing was shallow as he stared at you, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Your top was rumpled to hell, exposing the line of your cleavage in a way that had his pants tenting painfully, and your mini skirt was so far scrunched that it looked like a belt around your waist.
“For others, sure…” He grabbed your hands, pressing them deeper into his skin as he slid them up to cup his face. “But for you?” he was whispering now, his ears growing steadily pinker by the second, “I’m afraid you have me beat.”
Oh.
And then you’re leaning in, tenderly pressing your lips to his own, mumbling his name over and over again to stop you from saying those other three little words, before sealing it with your tongue.
And then he’s pulling you into his lap.
You could taste yourself in his mouth and on his lips, your nipples tightening as his large hands grabbed handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before making them clap together again.
A muffled groan escaped from the depths of his chest, vibrating against your mouth, as he felt new gushes of your slick begin to dampen the front of his pants.
“Mmmnh- get comfortable, pretty girl.” He slurred out as he pulled at the waistband of your skirt, before letting go, allowing the material to slap against your skin with a light sting.
“Hmm… only if daddy gets comfortable too.” your eyes were big as you stared at him through your lashes.
And oh fuck.
Toji had to lean his head back, his skull hitting against the wall with a dull thud!
The way the words left your mouth had him breathless, brain short-circuiting, and dick throbbing. He needed to recuperate. Calm down.
Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat.
You smiled slyly, completely aware of how your words affected him, as you pulled your flimsy top off, followed by your bottomwear. Your tits were heavy and full as they were released from the cotton, nipples peaked and stiff.
You were bare before him, your arms on either side of his hips, squeezing your tits together lightly as you bent low to whisper against his ear.
“You like when I call you that?” Your voice was sweet as honey as your hands traced the large outline of his dick through his pants, gripping his shaft through the tight material, and feeling the monstrous size of his girth.
“Careful, sweetheart,” his voice was a mixture of restraint and warning, “don’t start callin’ me that unless y’er tryna see it through.” His neck was visibly tense, and his hands clutched on to the meat of your hips as he stared at you.
Pretty girl.
He squeezed tighter.
His pretty girl.
A moment of silence passed as you considered his words. “And what if I do wanna see it through…?” Your head tilted cutely while your mean hands found their way to his happy trail, running your nails down through the thick tufts of dark hair, dipping juuust below the waistband of his pants, before retreating back up again in slow, agonizing loops. “Show me your worst, daddy.”
And who was he to deny you?
Before you knew it, he had his pants and briefs shoved down his legs, his massive cock heavily thudding against his washboard abs
Your mouth gaped open.
And ohhh how he relished the dumb look on your lil’ cute face.
You didn’t even think anyone could be this large.
Yet here he was, with a dick that looked like it belonged in a porno, pulsing fat and heavy and huge as he leaked pre-cum all over the angry mushroomed head.
He smirked, cocky as ever, as you subconsciously licked your lips, eyes glazed over, cock drunk just off the look alone.
Your pussy gushed warm, new slick between your legs as you carefully leant down, your hands grabbing around his base, slowly bringing his dick closer to your face.
He could feel the warm puffs of air coming from ur plush lips, his dick twitching like crazy at how close you were to finally, finally getting your mouth on him.
You pressed a gentle kiss to his leaking slit, before running your lips over the excess pre-cum, painting your lips with the milky substance.
He swallowed hard. His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged.
He groped your tits, rolling your stiff nipples in his calloused fingers, eliciting the sweetest moan from you that reverberated around his dick.
You gave him small kitten licks at first, teasing the idea, before gradually licking thick fat stripes up and down the length of his huge dick. You traced the pulsing veins that climbed up his hot shaft and licked around the sensitive underside of his throbbing cockhead.
And it was only when his chest was heaving, his impatient hands gripping onto your skull, did you finally, finally begin to throat fuck the shit outta him.
None of the videos he had watched of you before even came close to the sensation of seeing the bulge forming in your throat from where his cock was buried inside of you, or the way your nose tickled against the tufts of dark hair at the base of his cock.
You moaned dreamily around him at the feeling of his heavy dick pounding against the back of your throat, filling your mouth and overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you bobbed him in your mouth, hands jerking off what you couldn’t reach, and your thighs rubbing together greedily, craving any ounce of friction against your throbbing pussy.
But before you knew it, he was lifting you off, a light string of saliva following en suit, connecting the two of you together.
“What’s wrong?” You had a devilish grin on your pretty face. “Scared you're gonna cum too quick?”
A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through his body as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, while the other smacked your ass.
“Nah,” his canines glinted in the lowlight, a predatorial grin etching into his features. “Just tryna make sure nothin’ gets wasted.” And then he's shifting you up, rubbing his thick cock against your gooey cunt, mixing his thick pre with your juices.
Your heart fluttered.
His dick was so warm against your skin – so, so much better (and bigger) than the toys you regularly used to get yourself off.
You’ve had enough. You’ve done your waiting. You needed him inside you.
You lifted yourself up, your hands bracing themselves on either side of Toji’s broad shoulders. Your pussy was dripping down onto his angry dick as you slowly lowered yourself, hips circling, letting his throbbing head trace your sopping lips.
He could have almost passed out from the sight alone.
Instead, he panted out a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to restrain himself from bucking up into your cunt.
You paused your hips, lowering yourself again ever so slightly so that his leaking head was now smooching against your gummy entrance, the heat of his cock stirring something warm and familiar in your belly.
Please, please, please, ple–
And then your pussy is swallowing his head whole.
“Oh, fuuuck you’re tight mama,” his eyes squeezed shut, fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead as Toji gasped out at the sensation of his thiiick cockhead squeezing past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance.
Your gummy walls sucked against him from all angles, squishing into his hardness and rubbing deliciously against the sensitive underside of his mushroomed tip.
And this was just the tip.
He didn’t know if he would make it out of here alive. At least, without getting you pregnant.
You whimpered, actually fuckin’ whimpered his name as you reached down, touching where he was spearing you apart, your lips drawn thin and tight to accommodate for the sheer size of him.
“You’re so big Toji,” a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. “Look at how much more I gotta take.” And he did, he really did look. Because you began to let your finger slowly slide from where the two of you were connected, down, down, down to the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.
“Haah- Ya’ think it’ll fit, sweetheart?” He grunted, his lips involuntarily bucking as you pouted cutely at him.
Something impassable flashed across your feature. “I’ll make it fuckin’ fit.”
And then you’re slamming down onto his dick, and it feels like the literal wind gets knocked out of both of your chests.
He has never felt something so deliciously tight before.
You have never felt so goddamn filled up before.
You’re clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering and smooching around his raw cock as it pulses heavy and thick with animalistic need.
It took you several moments to orient yourself, to gather your scrambled senses back together to remember what you were doing, what your goal was, why you were here.
“I have a secret to tell you.” You stared down at him, an unreadable look passing over your features.
“O-oh really?” you squeezed your walls around him, catching him off guard.
“I know you watch me touch myself,” you whispered it like it was a secret, sly and just a touch proud.
And of all the things you could’ve said, nothing would have prepared him for that.
His dick bobbed from inside of you.
“Fushi-daddy420 isn’t the most subtlest of names, no?” you grinned meanly as you watched his jade eyes turn impossibly black as you began to slowly, teasingly, mercifully bounce on his cock. Up and down and up and down.
“But-?”
He thought you would hate him if you knew.
He agonized for days for this reaction?!!
“And after you ran out on me after seeing my place?” you were panting, riding him as you talked. “Yea, that kinda solidified it.”
And just when he thinks you’ve found your rhythm and set your pace, you slowly begin to circle your hips, hitting new angles deep inside your guts that have his throbbing tip pressing into the spongy part of your pussy.
“You don’t -fuhh- don’t hate me?” his mind was swirling, how could he focus when you felt this good?
“Never.” Your hips rolled, and you pressed your tits together, giving him a show.
And you were doing so well, and felt so good. He pressed a fat thumb against your clit, spelling out his name, as if to claim you, mark you, over and over and over again.
T-O-J-I !
He throws his head back as he feels you creaming around his cock, while your eyes are rolling into the backs of your head as you feel his thick goopy pre frothing at your entrance, dripping down onto his balls. The pace is getting faster, the air getting hot, and thick beads of sweat are rolling down your back. The obscene sounds of sweaty skin slapping against skin filled the hot, sex-scented air.
You lean down to kiss him, tongues messily entangling, drool spilling from the sides of your lips as you ride his cock like a fuckin’ animal, ass jiggling from the force of his hips rocking up to meet you, his heavy balls smacking against your pussy like a promise.
In one swift motion, he’s flipping the two of you over, your back to the bed, his dick never leaving your pussy, as he continues to fuck into you. He has your legs spread wide, your knees to his sides as he buries himself deep within your warmth, the new angle allowing you to feel his fat tip smooching against your cervix.
He’s panting, breath shaky as he slows down, rutting shallowly, not allowing himself to be too far from your gummy insides. “T-tell me where you want it,” his voice came out strained, and you could see where his veins were protruding on his neck.
Oh. His cum.
His balls were pressed against you, tightening with every passing second. You could feel his dick bobbing against your walls as he was direly trying to stop himself from cumming.
You smiled, soft and sweet, as you pressed a hand against your lower tummy, feeling the bulge of where he was nestled inside you.
“Oh, you already know,” and you were batting your pretty lashes up at him, making his heart stutter. “Isn’t that right, daddy?”
And oh, how his broken mind snapped.
The next thing you knew, he’s pressing your knees so far up they’re knocking against your tits, his hulking body leaning over and pressing down into you, chest against chest, until you could feel his warm lips sucking bruises by your ear.
And then he’s draaagging his thick cock through your pussy until only the tip is inside you, before snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock the deepest it could go back inside you, spearing you apart, and setting an absolutely cruel, delicious, depraved pace that has his balls bruising your ass and his cock breeching your womb.
It goes for what feels like seconds, minutes, hours.
Your legs began to shake at all the sensations, your pussy walls convulsing around him and your ears ringing as you started to see white.
And he truly couldn’t keep it in any longer.
Not when you sounded so hot, with your face scrunched up in the prettiest ‘o’ and your nails digging crescents into his back as you called his name, begging for his seed.
And so he bucked up, his hips flush against yours, locking you into the meanest of mating presses, as his dick lurched, balls scrunching, as he pumped copious amounts of his thick, sticky cum straight into your womb.
And he’s still bucking his hips, through each of your peaks, fucking his cum deep inside you, until your belly was bloated and full of him.
“Thattaa girl,” he pressed a warm kiss to your mouth as he fucked you through the last few peaks of your orgasms, gingerly swiping his thumb across your cheek as if you were something precious. “My girl.”
And later on, as you softly drifted to sleep, with a belly full of his cum and his softening dick still inside you, you could feel his scarred lips pressing light kisses across your face, and the mumblings of something that sounded vaguely too close to “iloveyou” whispered into your warm skin.
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Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.
After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.
There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side.
Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).
He still kept his same protein shake recipe.
He still kept his same choice of attire.
But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb.
And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag.
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The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38.
And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend.
cheek kisses . toji x f!reader : toji never gives you kisses on your cheeks
"why do you always kiss my lips?" you asked toji softly. you were fixing your hair when he came in and stole a kiss from your lips.
"hm?" he hummed.
"why do you always kiss my lips?" you asked again, turning to face him.
toji blinked. he was confused. you never brought up any complaints before. did you not like his kisses?
"do you not like when i kiss your lips?" he asked hesitantly. his hands found your hands and he pulled you closer. "i can stop if you don't."
you shook your head. "its not that. its just i kind of want you to kiss my cheek sometimes or my forehead. you always just dive right for my lips."
toji sighed. "are you complaining?" his grip on your waist tightened slightly.
you shook your head quickly. you pulled him closer and looked at him with panic. "no! im not. i love your kisses, dont ever stop, please. forget i said anything."
toji laughed at your panicked state. he brought his hands to your cheeks and squished them together till your lips formed a pout.
he pressed his lips to your pout and then let go of your cheeks.
"and what do i get if i start kissing your cheeks?" he asked with a smirk on his lips.
you glared at him and punched his chest. "why do you always need something in return? can't a girl just want her boyfriend to kiss her cheek?"
toji smiled. "nope. i'll always kiss your lips. cheek kisses are for teenage boys. im a man, doll."
you rolled your eyes and pushed him away. if he wanted to play like that then you would too.
"fine, i'll just ask gojo-"
lips landed on your cheek instantly. toji's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. he pressed kiss after kiss on your cheek before moving to the other one and doing the same thing.
a laugh escaped your lips and you pulled away from him.
"i thought cheek kisses were for teenage boys."
toji looked at you with feigned confusion. "who said that?"
firefighter!toji who wants to start a family with you. corporate!reader. slight belly būlge. brēeding kiñk. married!toji & reader. māting press. mommy/daddy kiñk (slight?). @satoyesha
firefighter!toji fushiguro who really wants to knock you up and start a family with you…
firefighter!toji who sinks into you and releases a guttural moan. you clamp around him, sweet slick coating his dick as he bottoms out, thick and mean tip kissing your cervix. his head is in your shoulders as he further folds you into a mating press; plush legs thrown over his shoulders, and one of his hands placed on the side of your head, the other gripping your hips.
firefighter!toji who leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses across the line of your jaw and down your neck, panting into your ear about how good you suck him in, and how pretty you were under him. he picks up the pace, allowing him to pull all the way out leaving only his tip in, before bottoming back out, basking in the sweet sounds of your moans and your pussy greedily slurping him back in.
"fu-fuck, i wanna— wanna make you mine forever," he moans into your neck, and you can't help but clench around him because of his words and his choice of tone. "wan' you to have my b-babies. make me a daddy," his eyes are rolling to the back of his head from just how good the pleasure is and how good he's hitting it, and your moans don't make it any better. the sound of your sweet nothings makes his dick pulsate inside you, and he fears he may cum way earlier than expected from just that. "y-yeaah? y'wanna make me a daddy?"
firefighter!toji who gets turned on by the concept of making you a mommy. the thought of you swollen, walking around with a ring on your finger and a baby in your stomach only furthered the illustrious desire of making you his. there's nothing better than leaving a mark on you—and toji loves a good one.
"you gonna be a good mommy f'me?" he's pushing your legs to your chest, squishing your tits together as he greedily slams his thick cock into you, delighting in the soft protruding in your stomach. he chuckles breathlessly as he watches you squirm around and mumble a feral and breathy 'yesyesyes,' nodding frantically with glossy eyes as you practically beg him to fill you up. "please— o-oh— l'me fill you up. promise to be the best daddy ever, 'kay?"
firefighter!toji who's so close, and he could feel that you were too. you were more wet than usual, feeling himself slip and slide easier than the beginning, and he smiles to himself. "you close, baby? can feel it." you stare at him with big glossy eyes and slick, kiss-swollen parted lips, too fucked-out to even respond. all you can do is moan and mewl at the way his cock stretches you so good, and promise him that you'll let him fill you up.
"you wan' me t'pull out, i will," both his hands are on your hips now, dragging you back onto his dick? making sure every inch is stuffed inside you. "b-but—haah—you wan' me to cum inside… say it, baby." you weren't even sure his words completely registered in your brain, but you were so far out into space that your mouth and body responded faster than your brain. because the minute you mouth and whimper a 'inside,' you both finally cum.
firefighter!toji who paints your walls white, hot and sticky cum filling you up to the brim, with some excess spitting out the sides. he leaned down to entrap you in a wet kiss, moaning gutturally into your mouth as he feels you spasm around his cock, forming a thicker ring of cream around his base.
"f-fuck…" he pants, still bottomed out in you. he sees your expression, eyes looking down to where you both were connected, seeing the slight bulge in your stomach from how deep he was in you and the sheer amount of cum he's poured into you. yet still, toji still wanted more. his hips began to move softly, jerking slightly when you let out a small mewl.
"don't think t-that was enough, mama… one more, please? jus' one more, and i swear i'll be done, 'kay?"
kissing toji after pretending to swallow ❤︎ ⋮ requested
your throat is still raw and your lips are still wet and you can taste him, the whole mess of it, the cum he shoved down your tongue like he expected you to swallow on command, and you let him think you did, you even swallowed air just to fake the motion because you knew—god, you knew—he’d sit back all smug like yeah, that’s right, good girl, finally learning.
“c’mere,” he mutters, voice thick with the afterglow of getting his dick sucked, and you almost laugh, because he’s so sure. so certain. so fucking cocky.
and you climb into his lap with that secret sitting heavy on your tongue, warm and salty and thick, and he’s already giving you that look, the one that says he thinks he owns the room and your body and your next three breaths.
you kiss him once, soft, pretending to be all dazed and fucked-out, and he smirks into it, totally unaware that you’re hiding his own cum in your mouth like a weapon.
and then you open wider.
and give it back to him.
you spill his cum straight into his mouth, hot and messy, and he goes still—so still—like his brain just blue-screened because he thought he knew what you were capable of and apparently he absolutely fucking did not.
his whole body goes rigid under yours. not disgust, not shock—no, worse, interest. genuine, bone-deep, hungry interest, like you just unlocked a new level he didn’t know you had the guts to reach. his tongue meets it first, then his breath stutters, and then he actually groans into your mouth, this low gravel sound that hits you right between the legs.
“ohhh fuck,” he laughs, low and rough, dragging the sound right against your lips, “so that’s what you were saving.”
and then his hand is on your face—big and warm, taking up half your cheek—tilting your jaw open wider like he wants to check how much of his cum you kept for him, like he wants to see the proof.
“you little liar,” he murmurs, thumb sliding across your chin and catching a drip before pushing it right back into your mouth, “pretendin’ you swallowed. when you were holding all my cum in your cheeks like a greedy little brat.”
your thighs shake, which is humiliating because he notices instantly.
“didn’t know you were into that,” he says, dragging you into another kiss, deeper this time, filthier, like he’s trying to lick the truth out of your mouth. “but fuck, sweetheart… you should’ve told me sooner.”
he kisses you again, deeper, filthier, licking his own cum off your tongue like it’s dessert, like he wants every leftover drop.
you gasp into it; he tightens his grip on your jaw—not painful, just firm enough to make you feel owned and angles your head exactly how he wants you.
and then he taps two fingers under your chin, lifting your face like he’s choosing whether to be nice or mean about it, and spoiler: he’s not choosing nice.
“you better do that again,” he whispers against your lips, voice all wrecked and hungry. “next time you hold my cum in your mouth, you bring it straight back to me. don’t waste a single drop.”
if Toji won’t give you attention…his cock sure will
cw: explicit smut, giving head, Toji giving you the silent treatment.
“Toji. I’m talking to you.”
Nothing.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you say angrily, “We were at a bar. Some guy asked if I wanted another drink while you were in the bathroom for five fucking minutes. I said no. That’s it. You’re acting like I sucked his dick in the alley.”
Still. Nothing. You laugh bitterly, “Wow. Real mature, Toji. That’s cute.” You try again—“Toji, come on. It was nothing. Can you please fucking talk to me.” Fucking nothing. His knuckles bleach white around the steering wheel. Eyes stay fixed on the road like you’re not even there. Fine.
By the time you’re through the front door he’s already shrugging off his jacket, kicking his boots toward the corner with more force than necessary, then heading straight for the couch like you’re invisible. He drops down, legs spread wide, arms crossed, staring at the blank TV screen.
You stand there in the living room doorway, arms folded tight across your chest, watching him sprawl on the couch. Toji doesn’t acknowledge you. Just sits there, legs manspread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his sweats with his arms crossed so hard the veins in his forearms stand out.
He can pretend all he wants, but his body clearly isn’t on board with the silent treatment. “Toji. Look at me.” Nothing.
You step closer. “I said look at me.” His eyes stay locked on the black TV screen. You laugh again, “Okay. So we’re doing this. You’re just gonna sit there like a pissed-off statue while I stand here talking to myself? Classy.” Still nothing. Fuck. This.
You kneel in front of him, pulling his sweats down. His cock springs free, heavy and flushed dark, the tip already slick. A bead of pre-cum slides down the shaft, “Ignoring me all night but still so hard,” you taunt.
His hips jerk forward once, involuntary, before he locks them in place like he’s punishing himself. Your hand wraps around the base and you give one slow, deliberate stroke upward, thumb dragging over the slick head on the way back down. His abs clench so hard the lines carve deeper into his stomach but he still doesn’t speak. Just keeps staring at that fucking blank TV.
You lean in closer, “Still nothing?” you murmur. “That’s fine. Your cock’s doing all the talking for you anyway.” You drag your tongue flat along the underside in one long, wet stripe. You take the head into your mouth and suck hard. Let your tongue swirl slow circles around the slit, tasting the salt of him. The veins in his forearms bulge as his fists tighten on his own biceps, arms still crossed like he’s physically holding himself back from touching you.
You pull off to look up at him doe-eyed. You lick your lips, let a thin string of spit connect you to the glistening head. “Still not gonna talk to me?” you ask sweetly. “Mmkayy, stay mad.” You pop your lips back around him.
Drool runs down your chin, soaking his balls. You’re making the grossest, prettiest sounds as you let him fuck your mouth. His hand shoots to the back of your head, fingers knotting in your hair as he pushes you down. “You think I’m mad because some fucker bought you a drink?”
He leans down until his mouth is a breath from yours. “I’m mad because you smiled at him.” he says thrusting into your mouth, “And I’m madder,” he growls, “because I wanted to break his fucking jaw for it. And I didn’t. Because I was trying to be good. For you.”
His grip tightens in your hair shoving you back down until your nose is pressed flush against his pelvis, throat stretched around him, eyes watering instantly. You gag, but he doesn’t let up. He holds you there letting you feel the full, heavy weight of him, “Make it good,” he mutters, “Show me how sorry you are.”
Oh and you do. You relax your throat as best you can, let him use it as spit drips in thick ropes down your chin. He groans, “Fuck—there. Just like that.” You double down. Letting him hear how wet it is, hands slide up his thighs, then cupping his balls and rolling them gently. He comes hard, flooding your throat until you have to swallow fast to keep up. He groans, hips jerking while you milk him with slow, gentle sucks until he’s twitching from overstimulation. Only then does he finally let you pull off.
You collapse forward, forehead resting against his thigh, panting, lips numb, your chin slick and throat very raw as he exhales roughly. “Get up here.”
You crawl into his lap on shaky legs. He pulls you close as his arms wrapping around you as his mouth finds your ear. “Next time,” he murmurs, “you shut it down before I even have to see it. Or I won’t be this nice about making you make it up to me.”
You nod against his neck, still catching your breath as he kisses the side of your head, “Good girl.”
of all the degenerate kinks you’ve discovered in toji, you had never—not once—imagined a praise kink would be among them.
it only surfaces in missionary. huge, beefy forearms braced on either side of your head, his weight bearing down, forcing you into direct eye contact. an setup that is, by itself, a dangerous provocation for your pretty, expressive face and complete lack of filter have always had a way of pushing him a little feral.
most of the time, he feigns indifference to your rambling accolades of “haah- you feel so good,” “ohmygod, you’re s-so big-”—are nothing he hasn’t heard before. the distinction, of course, is that it’s your voice, not just any previous one-night-stand or sugar mommy. toji can still tolerate it, more or less, provided he turns his face away during these moments.
unfortunately for him, the evidence is blatant: the slow crimson bloom creeping up his ear and neck, the pale scar that bisects his lip twitching… and the telltale twitch of his dick inside you.
but its the “ngahh toji—oh iloveyou i love you!!” that serves as the final nail in his coffin. he spills with humiliating haste, a shuddering groan torn straight from his chest as he comes hard. a thick pulse of cum filling you up. proof of exactly how badly your words fuck him up.
all because you told him you loved him.
afterward he buries his face into the crook of your shoulder like he can hide there, hips still moving with renewed, almost vindictive force. as if he can’t decide whether to fuck you into silence or force you to keep talking.
