sometimes I’m reminded that there are still people who don’t know ao3 was literally created by incest shippers — and the site’s sole purpose is to 1. be completely against censorship and 2. host all kinds of dark, taboo fics that are banned on other platforms — and the first ever fic that was posted on ao3 was a fic about an incest ship from supernatural.
you are in the house that was created by freaks. for freaks (affectionate). every disgusting thing you can think of is rightfully allowed and welcomed on ao3, because they are exactly the reasons why ao3 was created in the first place.
ao3 was created because its creators got tired of censorship, they got tired of dark and taboo fics getting banned on pro-censorship platforms, and they wanted a place that was safe for ALL FICS THAT WERE DARK AND TABOO.
ao3’s main principle is being against censorship and being proship / profic.
there are some things in fiction that make me uncomfortable, but instead of shaming people who are just minding their own business and not harming anyone in real life, I choose to curate my own internet experience by blocking/muting what I don’t want to see. ao3 has excellent tagging system, so instead of being a bitch, use their tagging system properly and you won’t see the things you don’t want to see.
it’s your job to curate what you see. it’s not other people’s jobs or responsibilities to censor themselves for your personal comfort. the world does not revolve around you.
also you cannot censor “only the things you personally hate” without expecting everything else, that isn’t of conservative beliefs, to be censored too. because censorship is a slippery slope and a fascist tool. I promise you there are people who think “why do tags for queer love even exist on ao3? they’re grooming children”.
if you allow the things that you hate to be censored — because someone with enough power gets to control what other people can and cannot create/consume, it will not stop at the things that you hate.
✴︎ synopsis: In which hot DILF Toji wants to hire a babysitter for Megumi before getting out of town.
✴︎ warnings: dilf!toji x babysitter!reader, modern AU, dilf, huge ass age gap, jerking off, fingering, oral sex, spitting.
✴︎ word count: 4k
It was a rare twist of fate, but Toji had actually landed a legitimate work opportunity outside of town. Well..the only problem, it meant to leave Megumi behind. Even though Toji wasn't exactly up for a "Father of the year" award, he knew better than to leave his 6 year-old kid compeletely to his own.
So, Toji had resorted to searching for a babysitter, which proved to be absolute failure. Dozens of interviews later, the father was thoroughly unsatisfied. The people who showed up at his door were either entirely unqualified, easily intimidated, or just not to his liking.
But just as he was about to lose hope, you were in your car, typing his address into your car's GPS, ready to head over to his neighborhood where the interview was supposed to take place, knowing nothing about the high standards waiting for you on the other side of his door.
Truthfully, you had never baby sat a child in your entire life. But as a broke, recently graduated college student who really needed money, you were fully prepared to lie through your teeth about your qualifications. Whatever it took to get the babysitter job, you would say it.
You had actually put a decent amount of effort into your outfit, making sure to wear something that looked presentable but defenitely caught the eye. After parking, you stepped into the residence elevator, smoothing down your clothes in its glistening mirror while taking a deep breath.
Stepping out into the hallway, you walked over to his heavy brown apartment door, with a large golden metal '126' bolted to the center. You took one last breath, raised your hand and knocked.
Knock-Knock-Knock.
A loud, heavy rumbling echoed from inside the apartment, followed by the sharp click of a lock turning. The door swung inward, and the hallway light was instantly cut off. Standing in the frame was a towering, overwhelmingly muscular figure wearing a tight black shirt. A man so wide he practically blocked out the apartment's entire interior light, casting a massive shadow right over you.
Your eyes slowly traveled up, involuntarily taking in the details of his body, then his face. Black fabric tightly stretched around his massive biceps, gaze tapering to his grey sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips. A sharp scar sliced clearly through the right corner of his mouth, adding a dangerous edge to his features. His dark hair was messy, clinging to his forehead damply as if he'd just thrown himself out of bed.
“Uhm...Good morning, Mr. Fushiguro, right ?”, you asked, voice wavering slightly as your heart started to hammer violently against your ribs. Toji didn't answer immediately, his dark blue eyes raked over you, looking you up and down. “Yeah, and you are ?” he asked back, his eyebrows showing his genuine confusion.
You quickly stumbled through your name, clearing your throat to do you most perfect "babysitter" tone and explained the reason that left you standing outside his door.
A look of realization crossed his face, “Oh right, yeah...I forgot”, he muttered, scratching the back of his head as he stepped to the side. “Get in”
You stepped past him, close enough that your shoulder brushed his lightly. Up close, he smelled like clean sweat, cheap cologne, and cold tobacco. A mix that made your head spin for a split second.
The apartment was surprisingly sparse. It wasn't dirty, but obvious that a single dad lived here. A few takeout containers on the counter, a pair of tiny shoes placed near the door, and a bunch of toys under the couch.
“Take a seat”, he said, gesturing toward his worn leather sofa. Instead of sitting across from you, he leaned his heavy frame against the edge of the coffee table in front of you. His position forced him to look down at you, but it also placed his muscular thighs and low hung sweat pants directly in your line of sight, making you gulp.
“So..”, Toji started, with a low voice. “You want to watch Megumi ?”
“Yes. I have a lot of experience with children of your son’s age. I’m very patient, responsible..”
He cuts you off with a breathy laugh, as he leaned in letting the shadow of his large body enveloping yours again.
“Is that so ?”, he murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before locking back into yours. “Because you look a little too nervous to me for someones who handles screaming kids for a living”
“Well, I just graduated college so not for a living maybe ?”, you spit back. A grin spread across Toji’s face making the scar on his lip flex, he leaned in an inch closer. “Or maybe I’m the one making you nervous ?”
“Mr. Fushiguro, please”, you replied, making sure he heard the annoyance in your voice, knowing damn well you were so far from annoyed, you core throbbing a little at his proximity.
He let out a low chuckle, finally stepping back to call down the hallway. “Megumi, get out here.”
A moment later, a little kid with wildly spiky black hair shuffled into the room. He looked between you and his dad with pure, unbothered annoyance. “Megumi, this is your sitter for the next month,” Toji muttered, gesturing toward you.
Megumi let out a tiny, heavy sigh, looking at you like you were the one that needed to be baby sat. You could swear that you heard him mumble a low “Nice to meet you”, before immediately turning on his heel and heading back to his room, shutting the door.
Your eyes widened as the realization hit you. “Wait... Mr. Fushiguro, does this mean I got the job?”
“Yeah,” Toji said, walking over to the kitchen counter and picking up , between all of the items scattered there, a crumpled piece of notebook paper. “And call me Toji.”
He slid the paper across the counter toward you. “Here’s his school’s address and the apartment's passcode. On Thursday afternoons, he plays at the park down the block. You’ll be watching him for a month straight, so you’ll need to pack your bags and live here. My flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
You blinked, looking from the paper back up to him. “Wait, so I’m staying here alone with him ?”Toji smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah. The place is all yours the second I walk out that door tomorrow. Is there a problem ?”
“No, no ! I don’t mind !” you rushed out, a wave of pure relief washing over you. You actually had a job. Even if it was temporary, the money was yours. “Thank you so much, Toji.”
With a final polite nod, you turned and left, heading straight back to your studio apartment to start packing your bags. Completely oblivious to the consequences of your exit.
The man who had been acting so tough and unbothered moments earlier, was left standing in his living room, all flustered. His eyes tracking the rhythmic sway of your hips the entire way through the door, leaving him with a bulge straining against the thin fabric of his grey sweatpants.
Time passed, but the thick strain against Toji's thigh was still rock hard and throbbing. No matter what he tried to do to discract himself, expecting time to do its thing and let him soften up — well, he was wrong.
After packing his bags and making sure he had everything in that blue huge backpack, he slowly cracked open Megumi's bedroom door, peeking his head in to make sure his son was actually sleeping.
The kid was out cold. Toji quietly closed it without a sound and tiptoed straight to his bathroom as he slipped inside and clicked the door shut. He could no longer contain himself.
Leaning his heavy frame flat against the wood, he let out a ragged exhale, jaw tightening. His palm dragged down slowly clenching against his bulge, squeezing one, twice. A wordless plea for friction.
A guttural sound caught in his throat. His fingers slipped past his waistband slowly, then without hesitation, swept down in one bold motion.
Toji was completely flushed, when heat crept up his neck and into his cheeks. His gaze dropped down to his red , angry tip that had been smearing pre all this time, creating a wet mess inside his underwear. A breathy “Fu- Fuck..” left the barrier of his lips.
He wrapped his large hand around the thick thaft that had been aching in his pants. The second Toji swiped his thumb up to collect the slick moisture from his flushed mushroomed tip, he grunted heavily. “That's all because of you..Fuck-”
The man couldn't think straight the second he started pumping up and down his steel-hard length. He breathed slowly, his mouth forming a soft oh as the memory of earlier made him go absolutely wild, causing his balls to twitch tight against his thighs.
“Shit-”, he hissed. His eyelids squeezed together as he felt the pleasure growing bigger as he fucked his fist. “That ass...You did that on purpose huh ? Coming here in that fucking tight skirt-”
Toji couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore. But since his son is sleeping not too far down the hall, he yanked the ham of his shirt and stuffed the dark fabric in his mouth, biting down hard to strangle any whimper or groan that tried to escape.
He could feel his balls tightening so much it was almost painful, forcing him to slow his frantic pumps down to a torturously slow pace. He thumbed the wet line of his leaking slit, spreading the slick over his cherry red tip, and then he pumped once, twice, thrice.
A violent jolt ran through him from head to toe. Toji's hips bucked forward into his fist as he spillied his hot seed, the thick fluid shooting out a whole white mess all over his hand and his toned abs.
Oh, he was fucked.
The next morning arrived far too quickly, you arrived at the apartment just as the morning sun was starting to rise, your suitcase rolling behind you, its wheels rattling against the pavement. Any nerves from yesterday had completely vanished, replaced by pure excitement.
Pulling out the piece of paper Toji had given you the previous day, you tapped the apartment's passcode number by number. The lock clicked open with a quiet ping, in the deafening silence. Toji had left an hour prior, leaving his child peacefully sleeping.
Just like instructed in the brief text message Toji sent you this morning before heading to the airport, you went straight to the guest room to unpack. It was surprisingly nice, and the massive bed sitting right in the center of the room instantly put a smile on your face.
Once your clothes were neatly arranged in the storage of the small closet, and your electronics were set up on the white wooden desk in the corner of the room, it was time to get to work.
You stormed right into Megumi's dull and quiet room, waking him up like he was drafted into war.
---
At that point, waking Megumi to "war" became your daily routine, over the last three weeks the apartment that looked so dull before completely transformed.
At first, that kid was in a tough shell, all blank stares, crossed arms, and pouty answers. Yet, three weeks of late-night movies sessions, and navigating his chaotic routine meant the professional boundaries vanished little by little.
You learned exactly how he liked his breakfast, which video games he played, and knew his bestfriends, Yuji and Nobara, like they were your own.
Which was exactly where you let him go have a sleepover, ironically acting like a burdened mom that desperately needed a break, even though Megumi was the calmest kid you'd ever met.
Plus, with only one week before Toji's return, you wanted to take maximum advantage of the place you were currently residing in.
Well, to be honest, curiosity had gotten the best of you this time, so you decided to try and explore the apartment— the one thing you hadn't touched being Toji's bedroom. Actually, you hadn't even gone in his room once.
God, the thought of that man was living rent-free in your head ! You lost the count of how many times you came, creating a mess on that massive guest bed, riding your fingers raw to the memory of his voice.
Every time he called to check on Megumi, he'd let that raspy voice of his throw subtle signs. You always played it perfectly dumb, acting like the babysitter who missed every single hint.
But if only he knew. If he had any idea that you caught every single dirty implication, and that his voice was the exact thing helping you scream into your pillow late at night, it would drive him insane.
You opened his door and stepped in slowly. You walked over to the cluster of clothes over his desk chair, picking up one of his black shirts and pulling the heavy fabric up to your nose, deeply inhaling the scent of him.
As a rush of warmth spread throughout your body, you didn't even try to fight that craving. Dropping the shirt against your chest, you immediately leaned back against the edge of his bed, spreading your legs wide.
You choked on a breath as you started rubbing your aching wetness directly over your clothes, desperately seeking out your clit through the barrier of your covered folds.
Without hesitation, you yanked down your shorts in one swift. Freeing yourself from the fabric, your hand moved instantly, your ring and middle finger heading straight to your stinging, swollen nub.
The contact is immediate and overwhelming, especially with his scent still clinging to the shirt in your hand.
You were so completely lost in friction, whimpering softly against the fabric of his shirt as your fingers worked your throbbing bud, that the quiet ping of the door passcode barely registered.
You were so entirely consumed by your own pleasure, eyes closed shut and face buried deep in that black cotton while you chased the edge of your release, that you completely missed the shadow falling across the hardwood floor.
You didn't notice Toji standing completely flabbergasted at his bedroom door.
Oh, how the tables have turned. The man who thought he was playing a subtle game is now frozen at his own threshold. Toji was getting an absolute eyeful of what he actually does to you.
“Am I disturbing ?” he murmured.
The sound of his voice almost made your jaw detach of your face. What on earth was he doing here ? He wasn't supposed to be back in another week. As reality violently crashed down on, you felt yoursef drowning in pure embarassment.
You scrambled backwards on that mattress, fumbling frantically as you tried to yank your shorts back up over your hips. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-”
The panic is so intense that it's almost tangible. You're breathing hard, you've been caught in a vulnerable or embarrassing situation, and you're literally holding his shirt, which makes it obvious you've been doing something you probably didn't want him to see.
“Didn't mean to what ?” he asked, in that same husky tone that had been driving you crazy over the phone for the last three weeks. He took one slow, deliberate step into the room, tossing his keys onto the desk.
“Didn't mean to play with yourself on my fucking bed, with my fucking shirt between your hands ?”
You sucked in a sharp breath, your hands freezing on the waistband of your shorts. The embarrassment was hot enough to burn, but the sheer weight of his gaze was making your core sting all over again.
Getting caught ? Well, it kinda turned you on.
“You been playin' dumb on the phone this whole time,” he muttered. Toji's hand moved to the hem of the his own shirt, pulling it up and over his chest, exposing every inch of his built torso.
“Looks like you understood exactly what I was saying. So put the shorts back down and let's finish what you started.”
︎You awkawrdly giggled at his joke..until ou realized it wasn't one. “Wait what ?” “You heard me, doll”
But instead of doing what he asked you to, you disappeared from his sight when he heard a loud,heavy thud! on the floor. Your knees kissed the hardwood right in front of him, you looked up at him through your eyelashes, abandoning any remaining pride as you sought his validation.
Toji froze for a split second, entirely caught off guard by your sudden action. Then, a deeply satisfied hum rumbled from his chest. Toji looked down at you, his large hand coming up to lazily cup the back of your neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the sensitive skin right under your jaw to force your head back just a little more.
His eyes darkened, a wicked, razor-sharp smirk spreading across his face as he unbuckled his belt.
“Are you sure you can get all of me in that pretty little mouth of yours?”
“Believe me, I've done way worse.”
That's what you thought, right up until he actually pulled both of his pants and boxers down. Your eyes widened like they never had before in your entire life. Damn, you genuinely felt like your eyeballs were about to pop up right out of your skull and fall !
He was just..so big.
But you were so confident ! You couldn't just back out now !
Summoning your courage, you wrapped your fingers around his rock-hard length. You immediately struggled to even close your hand into a proper "O" shape, his overwhelming thickness stretching your grip to its absolute limit.
Toji looked down at you from above, a cocky grin spreading across his face as wide as it could possibly go. Still, he tried his best to keep a cool, unbothered expression, desperately acting like you didn't have that much of an effect on him.
I mean..that stubborn composure seemed to work at first. But that was right before you leaned in closer, pressing your lips flat against his cherry-red blushing tip. You gave it a sweet but filthy peck, and before he could even register that action, you darted your tongue straight up, licking along the slick, dripping line of his slit.
Witnessing the change of expression on his face made you slick yourself completely,the warmth trickling against the fabric between your thighs.
You parted your lips, full intended to tease him — to voice some wicked comment about the raw need surfacing in his eyes. But Toji didn't even give you the chance to inhale.
With a sudden tilt of his hips, he bucked forward, shoving the thick crown of his cock straight into your warm mouth.
“Not so talkative anymore, huh ?” he rumbled. His eyes closed tight, shoulders tensing, when you immediately adapted, sucking down on him and swirling your tongue with a rhythmic heat that had him groaning aloud.
Toji was just so massive, there was no way your mouth could accomodate all of him at once. Realizing you hit your limit, you locked your lips tight around his shaft. One of your hands slid down to clamp around his base, your fingers working in tandem to work the neglected length that your mouth couldn't reach.
“Shit- 'ts so warm..”
A low, broken curse left his lips as his composure finally shattered. Driven entirely by friction, Toji started bucking his hips, his instinct taking ovet as he tried to ruthlessly fuck your mouth. Though the desperate urge to make him cum right down your throat was screaming in your ears, you weren't ready to let him dictate the pace. You wanted total control.
Without a single warning, you pulled out. your mouth left the slick of his cock with a wet, loud pop!
“The fuck are you doin-” You didn't even let him finish his thought.
It was pretty insane when you actually thought about the sheer audacity of what you were doing. but the adrenaline running throught your veins made you shameless. You used your weight to push the heavy, muscular frame of the man you’d been babysitting for back onto the mattress.
In a second, you shifted, pinning his arms as you sat directly on his iron-hard abs, facing his lower half upside down.
You thought that was a brilliant idea. A masterclass in taking control. But reality was you had just parked the ass he'd been violentely fantasizing about for the past weeks directely in his fucking face. How is a man like Toji Fushiguro supposed to keep composure after that ?!
Well, he fucking couldn't !
In a blink of an eye, his calloused hands shot up, hooking deep into the waistband of your shorts and jerked them down your hips in one brutal swipe. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as the sudden chill of the bedroom air hit your bare lower lips, exposing your swollen heat to the dim light.
Toji stared up, his chest heaving under your weight, his eyes fixed on the glistening view hovering just inches from his mouth.
“Holy shit-” he breathed, his words were vibrating against your inner thigh. “You're fucking dripping !”
You spat into your palm, mixing your own saliva with the precum coating his shaft and didn’t waste a single second before plunging back down.
Your lips parted, wrapping tight around his velvet slick dick, taking him in until you were gagging against the back of your throat. You fell into a rhythm, your tongue darting out to worship the sensitive underside.
Your cheeks were hollowing with every deep, greedy suck. And you swallowed rhythmically, a desperate whimper escaping you that seemed to drive him entirely out of his mind.
You were so consumed, chocking lightly on the size of him, when two large hands clamped into your hips from each side. With an effortless shove, he spread your cheeks wide, exposing you to him.
Before you could even process the position you were in, his tongue was there, a wet intrusion tracing the path of your slick slit. The sensation was explosive, your body bucked, a strangled moan escaping your lips even if your mouth was filled by him.
The sychronization was too intense, the double friction of your mouth on his length and his rough tongue tracing the line of your slit as he used his fingers to spread your lips.
Every time your cheeks hollowed when you sucked on him, Toji’s hips bucked upward in a mindless reflexe, his heavy hands digging into the flesh of your thighs to pin you against his mouth.
Toji was breathing like a wild animal, ruthlessly flicking his tongue against your stinging nub.
“Wait- I’m gonna cum!” you screamed as you pulled out for a second, right before taking his thick, dirpping cock back in. The heat building in your lower belly was blinding. An electric tension that made your entire lower half tremble violentely.
You couldn’t even breathe properly anymore, your throat contracting around his massive thickness as the first waves of your climax started to ripple through your folds, making you lose your vision as your eyes rolled back into your skull.
“Tojiiii–” the moan was nothing more than a choked, muffled vibration against his throbbing dick, but he felt it through his entire body.
That was his breaking point.
His fingers clenched so hard into your hips they would leave marks, his tongue giving one final, agonizingly hard drag right over your swollen center. Your walls clamped down in a violent, soaking orgasm, your head tossing back as a strangled cry was trapped inside your throat.
“Fuck fuck fuck-” The tight, rhythmic spasms of your mouth contracting around his cock instantly ruined him. Toji let out a low, shattered groan that vibrated right against your bare thighs.
His body went rigid as iron, his chest heaving under you as he came, a hot torrent of precum and release bursting right into the back of your throat. He bucked his hips one last, desperate time, pouring himself into you as you swallowed down every single drop.
You shifted your weight, twisting around on his chest until you were finally facing him. Leaning down, you sank your mouth over his, sealing your lips together in a deep, hot kiss. The taste was intoxicating.
A slick blend of your own heat and his deep release shared completely between you, the friction of your tongues blurring the lines of who belonged to who.
When you finally broke apart for air, you collapsed onto the mattress right next to his massive frame. Both of your chests were heaving, your breathing uneven, and completely unsteady in the quiet of the bedroom.
As the minutes ticked by, the static in the air began to settle. The frantic beat of your heart gradually slowed, and the room finally stopped spinning as you both fully blinked your vision back into focus.
The heavy silence was warm, thick with the lingering scent of what you’d just done.
Toji slowly turned his head on the pillow, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a heavy-lidded intensity.
He reached out, his hand moving up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently tracing your jawline as a smirk crept back onto his face.
Summary. A kind man helps and takes you in for the night, as you're stranded because it's raining cats and dogs, whilst your car needed some fixing.
contents. gentle toji, dad!toji, age gap(toji is 30, reader is 23) light fluff, masturbating(both), toji taunting, dominant toji, oral sex(both), spitting, couch sex, teasing, praising, degrading, aftercare <3
wc. 4.3k
art creds : @moonlightengel
It's summer break at last. One more year then you'll be freed from hell (college). You're driving on the way home from your dormitory. You had to run some errands earlier, so here you are... driving at 8pm.
You absolutely love summer. Going to the beach, having picnics at the park, wearing bikinis and sundresses, but most especially, the summer break. Although, summer is not all fun and sunshine. It also means that if it rains... oh boy. It's gonna rain pretty fucking heavy.
Your favorite song is blasting on the aux. There were no signs of thunderstorms or heavy rain when you left the dorms. You didn't even check the weather app.
Fast forward... the brutal drops of rain hit your car. Your music earlier? Turned off. You're just trying so hard to focus on driving. The dim roads didn't help either. Yet, you still have to drive for another two hours before you reach home.
Thud.
The car suddenly stopped, "what the fucking fuckkkk?!!" you jumped from your seat. You turned the engine on and off, in hopes that it'll run again. "No no noooo" you slammed your forehead on the steering wheel. Then you remembered that your roommate had told you to change your goddamn tire. You do have a spare tire, but not the tools.
You screamed in frustration. "How can I be so dumb arghhhh." You grabbed your phone and tried calling your parents, siblings, friends, basically everyone at this point. But to no fucking luck, yet again, it kept saying "no signal"
You looked around the place to see if you have any idea where you might be. It looked like a suburb. Your eyes squinted hard, vision unclear because of the rain. Then you spotted a house with lights on, on the porch.
It's either you sleep in the car, and wait till morning cus this shitass rain won't be stopping anytime soon, that you can tell. Or you go to the house and ask to borrow some tools. You'll just have to figure out how to change a tire later on. You bit your fingernail, thinking hard. Then, you finally decided.
"Ask for some help it is." you opened your compartment and scrambled through, hoping to find your umbrella. But right now, you might just be the unluckiest person in the world. "Of fucking course I left my umbrella" you sighed in annoyance.
You got out of the car, body shivering from the cold water. You ran towards the house.
Ding— no response.
Ding— no response.
Your index finger was about to press that button again, when— "What is itttt??!" a little boy, probably 6 years old, greeted you. His face scrunched and is holding a big ass ipad with both of his hands. He looked up, "Ohhh a pretty lady!" he suddenly shrieked once he got a proper view of you. You smiled awkwardly.
"Umm hi.. Is your mommy home?"
"I have no mommy," the boy said, sounding unbothered.
"How about your daddy? Is he home?" you ask, as you look around the house.
"Yep, my papa's here. Are you one of his pretty ladies? It's been a while since a pretty lady came to our house." he said, tilting his head.
"Uhh no, I don't think I know your papa. Can you call him for me? I need some help" you said, then introduced yourself.
"Papa!!! Someone's here!!!" he shouted with all his might. Then his head turned towards you. "My name is Megumi," he said, still unbothered, tapping away on his ipad.
You wrapped your arms around your shaking body, your lips slightly quivering. You turned around to look at your car.
"Gumi, what did I tell you about opening the door on strangers?" A deep voice entered the scene. You quickly turned around and were faced with a tall, jaw-dropping, one hell of a man, scratching his head. Making his shirt ride up, revealing his toned abs underneath. His sweat pants rest dangerously low on his hip. You're starstruck. You blink a few times before proper words come out of your mouth.
"Oh I'm so sorry for disturbing you. It wasn't his fault! I kept on ringing the doorbell. I really really need some help" you rambled, pressing your hands together, showing an apologetic look.
"But it's a pretty lady, papa. You love pretty ladie—" the boy's words got cut off when his dad shut him up with his big hand, covering the poor Megumi's whole face. After struggling from the big man's hold, Megumi ran away. You couldn't help but giggle.
The man shifts his attention to you. "You're soaking wet. What 'ya need help for?" he asked.
"I was on my way home, but my tire got busted. Do you have some tools I can borrow?" you say shyly, forcing a smile.
"Do I have some tools? Sweetheart, I am the tool." He said, chuckling. The scar on his lip moving as he speaks, "I'm a mechanic. Toji." his hand reaches out. You took it and shook each other's hands, while introducing yourself.
"Where's your car?"
You pointed out outside, just a few walks away from their house. "There". He hummed in response.
"Do you even know how to change your wheel?" Toji questioned, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Nope" you pursed your lips together forming a line. He nodded his head as a response.
"Okay then, I'll help you fix it. You should dry up first. Hold on." he walked away. Then came back with a fluffy towel, handing it to you.
"Thank you, Mr. Toji" you say, beaming a smile.
"Come in." he tilts his head to the side once, gesturing you to come inside.
After wrapping your body with the provided towel, and removing your slippers, you finally stepped inside. Your eyes scan the surroundings. It looks clean and tidy. Almost everything is in muted colors, mostly black. Decorated with minimalist furniture and a bunch of Megumi's picture frames on the wall, displayed on the foyer. You stare in awe.
You stopped in front of a big picture frame of both Toji and Megumi. "You have a lovely home, Mr. Toji"
"Thanks. The kid really does his part in making it a home. Despite his unusual personality, sometimes. And drop the mister. Do I look that old? Just call me Toji" he said, scratching the back of his head.
"Of course not! You look whatever your age is, probably even younger" your words flattered him.
"How old are you?"
"23, what about you?" you replied, still looking at the pictures.
He clicked his tongue. "30. Anyway, you hungry? We still have some leftovers from dinner." he asks, you look at him.
"Oh not at all. I ate some snacks in the car haha. No worries, thanks for asking anyway" you wave your hands. Remember the bad luck from earlier? Yeah... it came back. Because your stomach grumbled louder than the thunderstorm. Your eyes widen.
Toji laughed at you. "Come on, I'll fix you up a plate" he gestures you into the kitchen.
He sat you on the table as he heats up the food. After a while, you are now presented with mouth-watering food. You looked up to the man from your seat. "Thank you so much, it looks really good!"
"Eat up. I'll go find you some clothes to change into. Might catch a cold" Before turning his heel to walk away, Megumi popped out of nowhere and sat beside you. "Hey Gumi, don't give the pretty lady a hard time now, would 'ya" he teases.
"I won't. I'm not annoying like you, papa" You can feel Toji fume with rage right now, as you try your best not to laugh. But he takes a deep breath and walks away.
Now, you're left alone with Megumi. "How old are you, Gumi?" you ask, whilst cutting the meat on your plate.
"I'm 5 years old" he bluntly answered, while playing with his wolf stuffed toy.
"You're a smart 5-year-old"
"Really??" his eyes glowed at your remark.
You smiled at him. "Yes! Like really really smart!" you couldn't help but pinch his chubby cheeks.
"Am I handsome? Papa says I look like a sea urchin because of my hair" his lips pout and he crosses his arms. You giggled at him.
"Well of course you're a handsome little lad" you playfully elbow him. "You look exactly like your papa"
"Oh so you think my papa's handsome??" Your smile faded at his words.
"That's not what I meant, I just think you're handsome and you look like your papa" you say, trying to convince him to think otherwise. Toji came back holding a pair of shorts and a shirt.
Then Megumi opens his mouth, "Papa, she thinks you're handsome" he says to the man as he places the clothes on the table. You tried to cover his mouth but he talked too fast.
"Does she, now" Toji coos
"Hey! That's not what I said! I said, you're the handsome one, Gumi" you face Megumi, giving him a playful glare.
"So you think I'm ugly, then?" Toji crosses his arms over his chest. The muscles on his forearm flex, you stare for a good five seconds. "Eyes up here" he said, pointing to his eyes.
You gulped. "W-well that's not what I meant either. It's just that Gumi was asking if he's handsome and then he said that you said that— fine. You're both handsome" you sighed in defeat.
"See, papa. The pretty lady likes you!" Megumi adds another fuel to the fire. Toji cackled at his son's once-in-a-while playfulness.
"It's late, Gumi. Bed time" he directs the kid to his room. Megumi didn't fight his dad and obliged.
Then Toji sits on your opposite side of the table, facing you. "Sorry for that. I just played along 'cus he's rarely like that" he said, shaking his head, still laughing.
"It's okay, he's such a cutie. And he's really smart for his age. What're you feeding him, my goodness" you replied, as you finished up your plate.
"Hmmm well I only feed him real food. No junk food shit. I guess that helps" you nodded, agreeing with his words.
"The food's absolutely amazing, did you cook this?"
"Yeah. I'm a great cook, even greater at eating." You nearly died choking on the water you were drinking. "God damn. Slow down" he approaches you and pats your back. After a few coughs you wave your hand at him.
"I'm okay" you say, giving him a thumbs up.
"I don't think I'll be able to fix your car while it's raining this hard. You can just stay here for the night. We have a guest room, you're more than welcome to spend the night" Toji said, now leaning on the kitchen counter. You were taken back at his words, "what a kind gentleman" you thought.
"Thank you so so much. You're being so kind, I don't know how to make it up to you. But if you need any help with Megumi's assignments or a babysitter, I'll be here!" you stood up from your seat, giving him a salute. He snorted at your action.
"C'mon now. It's nothing, just trying to keep 'ya safe. Can't have you sleeping outside. The guest room has a bathroom as well. You can freshen up before changing" you nodded at him. Then, you went to the sink in an attempt to wash the plate. But he was quick to get it from your hands.
His massive figure hovered yours. "No guest of mine washes the dishes" he said, looking down at you. You took a step back and laughed nervously.
"Ohh my bad. I'll go ahead and take a shower then. Thanks again, Toji" you say, trying to avert the tension into a light one.
You set the water to the perfect temperature before going in the shower. As the warm water runs down your body, you can't help but think of the man who ever so kindly took you in for the night.
You squeezed your legs together, feeling more heated remembering the way he looked at you. That smitten look even when you were outside his door. Your hand moved on its own.
"Mmh— aah" a breathy moan escapes your lips, as your middle finger rubs your clit. Toji's face kept flashing in your mind. His big arms, those juicy pecs, his toned abs, that goddamn sexy face. Your finger rubs your nub faster. You leaned on the shower wall, trying to get your high.
"O-ohh fuckk, ahhh Toji" you moaned, imagining him finger you. You grinded against your hand, the other grabbing one of your breasts. You squeezed your tit, then a few more circles on your clit, and you orgasmed. "S-shittt Toji— ahh don't stop" you pant.
Once you calm down, "What the fuck am I doing" you shook your head at your actions. Then proceed to wash yourself up. After a good 15-minute scrubbing, and a whole ton of songs, you stepped out and grabbed a clean towel.
You dried yourself up, as you're about to change— "Fuck, I left the clothes on the table" you face palmed yourself.
Towel wrapped around your damp body, you sneakily go out to go to the kitchen. As you're about to walk past the living room, you heard something.
No, someone.
Along with the faint sound of the tv, there's heavy breathing, grunts, and... wet squelches?
You peaked on the wall, your eyes almost popped out of your eye sockets. Behold, the most erotic thing you've ever witnessed your whole life. Toji was seated, legs spread wide, his head resting on the back of the couch, as his right hand went up and down his gigantic cock. The light on the tv flickering on him. When a bright color popped on the tv, his cock was basically begging to be looked at.
Long and girthy. It even looks heavy, his mushroom tip stands out as his hand goes down to pump himself. Veins wrapping around, almost popping from the looks of it. He went faster, and you can see how he tightened his fist around his dick. He bit his lip, trying to suppress his moans.
"Fuckkk" he moaned as he oozed his cum on his stomach. Then you hear him clearly breath out your name. "You like the show, pretty?" he said, turning to look at you, lurking on the wall. His eyes hooded, still feeling his post-orgasm bliss.
Your eyes widen, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just gonna get the clothes" you retorted, shifting your body to reveal yourself from stupidly trying to hide.
"Hmmm I was gonna put it in your room, but you were busy doing other things than showering. Thought you'd just have to get it yourself" his hand, still stroking his cock.
"You heard me??" you ask, finally looking up at him.
He snickered. "Oh I definitely didn't. I absolutely didn't hear you moaning my name in my shower— Ahh Toji" he said, taunting you. Mocking your shameless moans from earlier.
You nibbled on your lower lip from embarrassment. "I apologize for doing that, after being so kind to me—"
"C'mere" his voice came out deep. You don't know what possessed you, but your feet are moving your body towards him. Once you stand in front of him, "Kneel" Your eyes are glued on the floor.
You looked at him with confusion, still processing the current events. "Fix what you started. On your knees" he points his finger to the space between his legs.
And you fucking did.
"Now that's a good girl. You want my cock, huh?" you bit your lip. Doe eyes staring at him, you nodded your head. Eagerly. "Then take it. Suck me good and proper. Would 'ya now, sweetheart?"
Your hand slowly reaches for his cock. You gulp as you feel him twitch at your touch. He hissed when your thumb ran along the slit of his wet tip. Toji grabbed your hair, "Don't fucking tease me. Get that slutty mouth of yours to work" he said, forcing you to look at him, making you whimper.
You stick your tongue out and licked his precum, then sucked his tip. "Mmmhh" Toji's grasp on your hair loosened as his head tilted back, eyes closed.
Your hand tries to wrap around his dick, but it's just too fucking thick. You bring your other hand and wrap around the rest. You let go of his tip with a sounding—pop. Then, he looks down at you. "Spit on it" you spit on his cock, he chuckles at your obedience.
After coating him, you begin to mouth him— inch by inch. Until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag a little. The remaining length of his cock being taken care of by your hands. Your jaw almost locks by how big he is.
You're bobbing your head up and down, you looked at him. His eyes are already devouring yours. He grins at you, his hand putting away your still-wet hair from your face. Suddenly, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him good. He let out a guttural moan. "A-ahhh fuuu-uckk" His hip jolted upwards. You continue to work your mouth, your eyes filling with tears by how his tip brushes the back of your throat.
"S-shiiit babyy. Keep going—hahh" he desperately reaches for his orgasm. You give him what he wants. You bobbed your head faster and wrapped around him tighter. He grabs your head and helps you move up and down. You feel him shiver and his cock twitches— Toji shoots his cum in your mouth. "Mnghh fuckk" he rolled your name in his tongue so sweetly. The tears in your eyes, finally roll down your cheeks. He's warm, thick and salty.
You lick the remnants of his cum that dripped out of your mouth, as he catches his breath. Toji cups your face and brings you closer to him. He crashes his lips into yours, tasting his own fluid still in your mouth. "Mhhhmp" you moan in his mouth.
He let go and reclined his position on the couch. He stared you down, while licking his lips. Then, he yanked your towel. You felt goosebumps, being exposed to the cold air— and him. "Oh fuck" he admires your bare body.
Then, he slides down to sit on the ground. His head laid on the seat of the couch. You stare in utter confusion. "Sit on my face, baby" he says, smirking. His hands rubbing on your bare thighs. He guided you, your thighs on the sides of his face, you used the back of the couch for support.
Toji holds the plush of your hips. "You're already so wet. Be a good girl and fill me up good, hmm?" he mumbles to your pussy. He then forces you down to his face.
"A-ahhh y-yess feels so— mmnghh" you blabber as he plays with your pussy with his tongue. You grind your hips on his face, making him grunt. The vibration sends shivers down your spine. His tongue continues to bully your pussy as he eats you so good and messy.
The flat of his tongue melting perfectly at your cunt. Then— he inserts it inside you. Your head snapped to your back, eyes rolling and mouth wide open. You shake on top of his face. The lewd sounds of him licking and sucking you overpowering the ones from the neglected tv, and the sound of the rain hitting the windows. You grab his hair and look between your legs. His eyes are closed and brows are knitted together.
He's eating you out as if he hasn't been fed for years. You feel your tummy twist when he pushes his mouth harder on your clit. "T-tojiii 'm gonna c-cuummm" you moan, grinding and matching his rhythm.
Your legs squeezed his head and your juices gushed out into his mouth. He slurps and licks every drop you give him. Your legs start to shake from the pleasure. He then held your thigh and prompted you to let go of his face.
Toji sits back on the couch, a satisfied grin displayed on his face, the lower glistening from your juices. "You taste so fucking sweet" you straddle him this time.
You both moan when your dripping pussy brushes past his painfully-hard cock. You leaned in and kissed him, tasting yourself. "Clean my face up. Lick yourself away from my face" your mouth moved to his jaw and licked away your traces.
Once you're done, his right holds onto your nape. You tilt your head back a little. "Your car's not the only thing that needs my help, huh?" he says, as his left hand smacks your ass, making you yelp and arch your back.
"Nghh— Y-yess. Need you so bad"
"What do you need, baby? Tell me properly" his left hand shifts to your pussy. He inserts two fingers in. You gasp, holding onto his shoulders.
"N-need your cock— ahhh in m-me" He curls his digits faster into you.
"I can't understand when you stutter like that. C'mon, speak properly" he taunts you.
You bit your lip and tried your best to speak, despite the way his fingers bully your insides. "Mmmhh I want— cockkk. Toji, please fuck me" he snickers.
"Good fucking girl. Shall I give 'ya what you deserve now, hmm?" you quickly nodded.
He lifts you up, positioning his length to your pussy. Then you start to take him, you moan with just his tip. "Fuck. nice and easy, baby" he says as he caresses your back.
You mustered all your courage and smack all the way down. The both of you moaned. Then you moved up and down. You feel every vein on his dick cling to your walls as it goes in and out. Your pussy taking him soooo easy cus of how wet you are.
Your tits bounce along at your pace. Toji hungrily dives into your boobs. Moving his face side to side, giving them equal treatment. "Ahhh- Fuck! T-toji" you mumble as he sucks on one of your nipples. You pump your pussy faster on his dick.
"Good fucking god. You do know how to ride properly— hah y-yeah just like that, baby" he closes his eyes in pure bliss, grunting, while you're a moaning mess on top of him.
Your pace becomes sloppy as you feel your tummy twisting again. Unsatisfied, his hips thrusts upward to meet your hips as you go down. "A-ahh!" you writhe. He continues to fuck you from below, his hands on your hips. You stare at each other. Both of your faces forming a silent o, brows furrowed, and beads of sweat forming on your foreheads.
You catch his lips and he moans in your mouth. After a while, you feel him twitch inside you, again. You pull away from the kiss.
"S-shit. 'M gonna cum, baby. you close?" He asks you, breathing uneven.
"Y-yes just k-keep going like—ohhhh Tojii!" you cry out as you orgasm. Not longer, he became undone as well. He grunts and moans your name as he fills you up with his warm cum.
His head rests on your shoulder. "God damn. That's the best pussy I've ever felt. You're so perfect f'me" he mumbles, breathing heavily. You just hum in return, brain scrambled. He rubs circles on your thighs.
"Toji, 'm tired" you blurt out, head dropping on the crook of his neck. Then, you feel him lift you and pull his dick out, making you whimper a little. He stands up and walks to his room. You're basically half-passed out at this point. But, you're well aware of how gentle he's being. He laid you down and you gave in to your sleepiness.
________________________________________
Your eyes open as you hear birds chirping. You look out the window and the sunshine's finally come to bless you after that storm yesterday. "Fuck" you quickly remembered what happened last night...
You look down on the blanket and you're wearing the shirt and shorts Toji had offered you. You also don't feel sticky or gross. You smile at the thought of him cleaning you up and dressing you.
You headed to his bathroom, washed your face, and grabbed a new toothbrush from his drawer. Then, as you walked down the stairs, your nose was engulfed by the smell of pancakes.
"Papa, I want wolf pancakes!" Gumi's voice filled the kitchen. You smile as you watch the two. Megumi turns his head upon noticing you. "Good morning!!" he squealed
"Wowww. Someone's in a good mood— Morning, gumi!" you return the excitement to the cut boy as you walk towards him to pinch his cheeks.
Toni turns off the stove and faces you. Your heart dropped to your stomach. You gulped. "Morning, Toji" you say, your cheeks burning red. He puts the pancake on Megumi's plate and drizzles syrup.
"Hmm morning. How's sleep? You rest well?" a smirk slowly crept on his gorgeous sexy face. He steps and closes the distance. "Do ‘ya feel sore or anything?" Toji whispers in your ear, being mindful of his son. Although, he's currently busy, not giving a single care to the world as he digs into his pancake.
"A little. But I'm fine" you say, nibbling on your lip. He hums in response.
"Want some tea to relax your senses?" he teases you, moving away. You glare at him. He cackles a laugh.
"Oh. By the way, your car's all fixed. Hate to say this, but I need to collect service fee"
"Oh really? Thanks! How much??"
"Hmm let's see.. It did take me a while. So... How about a date?"
want more?
>𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
________________________________________
I should do some fluff cleanse after this. Love me some mechanic!toji😩
thanks for reading! hope you liked it <3
also, don't forget to support ur writers! likes and reblogs are much appreciated :)
feat quarterback!toji x camgirl chem partner!reader
summary: Toji Fushiguro considers himself a very generous man, especially after using part of his D1 quarterback paycheck towards his favorite camgirl. If anything, he's a patron of the arts: dedicated, curious, and always ready for the next big thing. So when he finds out his quiet little chem partner has the same bedroom as his idol? Well... color him intrigued.
content: MDNI 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, camgirl!reader, chem partner!reader, quarterback!toji, fratboy!toji fanboy!toji, jjk college au, no use of “y/n”, prn with a ridiculous amount of plot, oral (m!receiving, f!receiving), piv, squírtíng, dumbification, toji has a biiiiig d, dáddy k!nk, size k!nk, brééding, etc.
word count: 10.1k (i don't play abt this man)
author's note: all credits of the above pictures go to their creators. The left-most picture is from thatsallitchief on X or tiktok. If anyone knows the artist of the right-most picture let me know so I can tag them!
toji's pre-game playlist: gemstone - don toliver, homecoming - lil uzi vert, don't kill the party - ty dolla $ign, love me - lil wayne, you - don toliver, nightcrawler - travis scott
These were intense times.
The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed.
There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft.
As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses.
It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk.
Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones.
As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf.
Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field.
His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table.
He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer.
Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls.
She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself.
And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts.
His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded.
“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”.
Part one?!
He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20.
And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name.
“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”
He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty.
But in the lecture hall? Well…
His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II.
He was truly a lost cause.
He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never).
So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago.
At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast.
Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you.
And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter.
It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.
In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.
“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”
It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.
You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.
He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.
He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him.
His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter.
Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”
You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen.
For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.
What the fuck?
He took your phone.
“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”
He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones.
“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”
He hated how his dick twitched at your words.
But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.
He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake!
His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”
You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!
And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.
After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.
He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.
You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday.
The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission.
And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill.
He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.
Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days.
And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days.
“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both.
You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe.
He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…
“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare.
“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power.
You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!
You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache.
The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?”
He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly.
You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips.
“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you.
He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag.
“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”
And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest.
A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand.
“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.”
His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away.
“It’s a small place,” you warned.
He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”
He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them.
You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”
For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world.
All he could do was swallow and nod.
He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door.
The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road.
Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row.
The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen.
Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.
And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.
He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–
He coughed lightly.
What was he thinking?
As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine.
Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.
It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.
“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table.
You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down.
He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room.
And, holy shit.
No.
There was genuinely no way in hell.
He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it.
His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body?
Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.
His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it.
Everything looked familiar.
Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–
“Can I help you?”
You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours.
You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.
And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words.
All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.
“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??”
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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.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.
After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.
There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side.
Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).
He still kept his same protein shake recipe.
He still kept his same choice of attire.
But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb.
And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38.
And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend.
you hated suguru geto. a brilliant college student who didn't have to lift a finger to get nearly perfect scores on every exam he took, didn't have to fix the lighting of his photos or adjust the angles, they just came out perfect. and then, you’re forced to work on a project with him.
PAIRING: spider-man geto suguru x bio major! fem reader.
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. no curses/modern au. inspired by the amazing spider-man. smut. a little bit of banter. mentions of blood and injury. fem masturbation. voyeurism. male masturbation (suguru’s jerking off next to your window :p). edging. dry humping. cunnilingus (suguru eats the puh upside down). unprotected p in v. doggy. some aftercare. angst. main character death (clock tower scene from tasm 2).
NOTE: added some more to this, i hope you enjoy the read :3 and thank you to @suguruss1ut and @widowrelic for reading through my baby (and to alyssa for helping me out on the brain stuff, you’re a real one 🤞) spider-man geto art credits to: @/aransmind
part one of into the getoverse
you had big dreams in the world.
your mother claimed you’d come out the womb with a white coat on and a stethoscope in hand while your father would show off your awards, your medals, your trophies to whoever would listen about how brilliant his little girl was. teachers would vie against each other in hopes it’d be their classroom you’d step in, in their classroom that you’d excel and shine in.
you’d only just turned seven when you knew what you wanted to do with the rest of your life.
it was a simple career fair of all things, a way to show what kind of jobs kids could pursue in the future. firefighters, office workers, vets, and more showed up to talk about their experiences and answer all kinds of absurd questions about their profession.
like how dalmatians weren’t a complimentary perk of fire fighting. huh.
that wasn’t even the most interesting part. what really caught your attention had been the doctor that showed up. her display wasn’t nearly as showy as the other people that stood at the front of the classroom prior—there had been no flashy powerpoints with a transition on every slide to keep kids with an attention span on .3 seconds interested, no promise of a lollipop or a gift for listening in.
just a realistic figure of a brain and a dream.
“hello, everyone.” her voice enveloped the room in a warm, gentle embrace with each word she spoke. she wasn’t talking down to you, though. not like every adult tended to do. you already had a strong liking towards her. “i’m here to talk about my job as a doctor. i specialized as a neurologist at tokyo tech hospital and i’ve just started as an attending.”
most of the kids next to you stopped pretending to pay attention long ago—doodling some stick figure on the margin of their notebook or refining their version of an eye, or simply putting their head down in hopes that your teacher wouldn’t ask any questions afterward.
you, though, you leaned forward as far as your plastic seat would allow, back straight as a pin as you watched intently. “this part of the brain’s the cerebellum.” she points to the back of the brain, underneath the big walnut-looking thing you’ve now learned is the cerebrum. “it acts sort of as a little brain and it’s responsible for controlling your movements. most of the cases that i receive are actually either from trauma or a tumor, my most complicated one was actually five years ago…”
since then, you’d been determined in what you’ve wanted to pursue. there wasn’t any sense of self doubt, of waking up one day and realizing you’ve been chasing after a dream you no longer want to do. it started off quite simple—cutting up your stuffed animals and pretending to do surgery on them, stitching them back to health (and stabbing your fingers 3000 times in the process). all from simple surface sutures to re-stuffing nail-biting procedures.
throughout middle school, you started as many preparatory ap courses you could take, piling up more and more work onto your load until you’re eventually buried in books. pre-ap algebra, pre-ap history, pre-ap english, you were doing it all.
that workload only intensified during high school. while many of your classmates were enjoying their last couple teenage years, having the occasional party when someone’s parents were out of town— you were buried in sat prep books and collegeboard textbooks that weighed your backpack down by twenty pounds. reading through paragraph after paragraph of information until you could recite the passage in your sleep.
when you weren’t at school, you were either at the library or going out to volunteer with cleaning up a beach or helping out at a soup kitchen. getting more than the necessary hours to fulfill your requirements, padding your resume into making you the ideal candidate. signing up for whatever club still had openings available, making sure to run every fundraiser like the navy. you built yourself into a candidate colleges just simply couldn’t refuse.
as if that wasn’t enough, you did sports you never would’ve entertained under normal circumstances, joining groups you had a semblance of interest for to have something to list on your college application. stretching yourself out to fit into every slot you’ve signed up—to make it to every team meeting, every volunteering session, every tutoring session. exhaustion weighed heavily in your bones, dark circles practically engraved underneath your eyes.
tokyo tech’s prestigious, hard to get into if you weren’t legacy or had enough money to pad the university’s board. their university was essentially a feeder school into some of the best medical schools in the country, though. but you managed to get in, with a 4.5 gpa, a list of extracurriculars trailing almost a mile long, and a hefty stack of recommendations (after begging for months).
there was nothing in your way to getting into medical school. if you were determined in high school, you were much more determined now. practically living in and out of your school’s café, fueled by caffeine and spite to go through whatever mcat prep book you could find and still get your assignments done at least three weeks prior to the due date. reading through teacher introductions and sucking up as much as you needed to, as much as was required to get you recognized in a sea of over 300+ students.
and yet, all of the work you’ve done seems to be naught when your intro to neuro professor’s keen on destroying that goal. you’re certain of it.
—
“good afternoon class.” the class falls silent upon dr. yaga’s arrival, a couple students managing to trickle in as inconspicuously as possible before he shut and locked the door. there was no room for tardiness, no room for any bullshit in his class. many had dropped out before he’d even finished going through the syllabus first day of class.
“have you ever wanted to meet hellen keller? because if so, take this class and meet her for yourself. you will not be heard, seen, nor will your professor communicate with you. he does not answer questions well, and when he does it's with sass and annoyance. tough grader and doesn't help at all with exams or finals, you are on your own,” said one student on rateonmyprofessor.
another one left a stellar one star review, “i never wore my seatbelt while driving to school because i wanted to die before making it to his class.”
his footsteps echoed through the auditorium, each one purposeful and determined. the promethium sparks to life, this week’s powerpoint up on the screen. “we will be working on a group project—” a chorus of groans erupts from the back, though a stern glare from dr. yaga has them quickly shutting up.
you’re not much of a fan either. people usually take too long to organize, to figure out what they want to do, just to end up doing a half assed attempt of what’s supposed to be their part of the project. or they usually make you feel like you’re intruding when you do go to ask to be a part the rare time you feel a surge of confidence.
needless to say, you’re already dreading it.
“i will be selecting your partners for this assignment and it involves studying injuries to the brain and how it affects each function. for example, concussions, contusions, strokes, inflammation, each one of your groups will be responsible for choosing one and what part you want to focus on.
“you have a month to work on this assignment before you have to present. i don’t care how you divide the work amongst yourselves, i need everyone to work equally on the project though.” hands shot up immediately after he was done speaking, an exasperated sigh leaving your professor’s lips.
most of the questions are repeats of what he’s already stated, his annoyance clear with each one he has to answer. “alright, if that’s all, i will now be assigning you to your groups. there will be no changes done to this, so don’t bother asking.” the last line’s towards you, a pointed look shot in your direction. you merely shrug.
he starts off listing off names, the people in question already starting to move to their designed partner. chairs scrape against the floor, conversations are whispered while everyone’s slowly starting to get their space set up. your ears perk up at the mention of your name, leaned over against your desk to hear him clearly. there’s not many options left, but you hope it’s a decent one at the very least.
anyone but naoya zen’in at this rate. you’re not certain you’ll get to get summa cum laude at graduation inside of a prison cell.
“suguru geto.”
the pencil in your grasp snaps between your fingers, pieces of splintered wood splattering across your once pristine workspace.
—
you don’t have a reason to hate suguru geto.
not really.
he hasn’t done anything to personally offend you or your bloodline, hasn’t done anything but meet your competitive streak with a simple, calm smile. with an easiness you could only wish to achieve in this lifetime.
it was infuriating, nonetheless.
the way suguru geto never had to bury his face into a book, never had to study, never had to show up to class with anything other than a mechanical pencil and a pink eraser to achieve the same things you did.
everything came naturally to him.
photography? the rule of thirds was practically encoded into his dna, lighting and background perfect around his subject each and every time. breaking the rule came just as easily, the man capable of creating perfect symmetry without focusing too deeply on the subject.
biology? suguru geto didn’t need to show up to class unless he needed to do a quiz, mastering the function of each organ without needing to open up a textbook. finishing up two hour quizzes in twenty minutes, labeling the humerus, femur, radius, and ulna without a bit of hesitation.
making friends? he didn’t even have to try to engage in conversation, people just naturally gravitated towards him like planets to the sun. wanting to talk with him, wanting to listen to him, they all just wanted a chance to be able to be around his proximity. it was almost a cult-like following.
everything you needed to work on, that you needed to pour energy and effort into, he excelled in.
“okay, now go on and meet up with your group partner. exchange contact info, talk to one another, figure out what you want to do, all that.” professor yaga retreats from the podium over to his desk, taking a seat in front of his computer. the projector shuts off, leaving everyone to whisper amongst themselves.
you don’t stand up, slowly putting your stuff away. opening your backpack up at a snail’s pace, putting your laptop inside. suguru stands up from his spot at the top, quickly descending to the front. “hey.” he approaches your desk, taking a seat next to you.
geto inches closer to you, placing his laptop and notebook in front of him. in a sea of overwhelming axe body spray and dior sauvage, he’s calming. a velvety, warm aroma of sandalwood and bergamot makes itself known as he leans in, the scent lingering long after he’s pulled away. you hate yourself for how much you like it.
you clear your throat, forcing yourself to focus. there’s no need for introductions, no need to act friendly, “so i was thinking we could do the effects of stroke on the motor cortex and how it affects muscle movements,” you don’t hesitate in speaking up, watching as suguru already starts to type it up in a word document. at least he’s efficient.
“sounds good, you wanna meet up today?” geto looks up from his laptop, amethyst eyes meeting your own, “i know you’re busy and all. don’t want to intrude on your schedule.”
you were busy. you had to finish up studying for a stats quiz and finish up another project for orgo before this afternoon. but you suppose you could spare a few hours, if only for your grade. “we’ll meet up at the library at four pm. don’t be late.” you don’t give him a chance to respond, leaving right after the clock hit 12:30. he’s left scrambling to pick up his stuff while everyone else follows suit.
—
you’re already at the library by the time suguru geto steps in through the doors. sitting at the second floor on a table near the window, not enough for the sun to scorch your body, but just close enough where the space feels warm, that it feels like a blanket’s engulfed around your body. there’s a textbook in your hands, a notebook decorated in pink and blue highlighter next to you.
you almost look approachable from this distance, completely at ease in your element. lazily flipping through the pages, skimming through each paragraph before you’re annotating a couple notes down. suguru doesn’t go up just yet, taking the time to admire you from afar. how the sun he knows that as soon as he steps up, you’ll have your guard back up again.
the smell of caffeine makes you raise your head, looking over to see suguru placed a cup in front of you. “didn’t know which one you preferred so i settled for vanilla with three sugars,” he explains, taking a seat right in front of you. he's quick to take out his stuff, setting down his cup of tea next to him.
“thank… you.” your lips twist awkwardly as you force the words to come out, feeling a physical pain in your chest, even if they’re nothing more than a whisper. suguru seems to hear them all the same, giving you a curt nod. it’s disgusting, it’s humiliating, and it’s really fucking good??
bringing the cup to your lips, your taste buds are engulfed by the sweet taste of vanilla and creamer. it’s better than the coffee you’re used to from the watered down excuse from the student lounge.
suguru pretends not to notice the little pleased smile on your face, choosing instead to bask in it for as long as you’d allow him to. it’s the only time you’ve looked like you tolerated being here.
“are you capable enough of explaining the motor cortex while i take care of the research or do i have to do everything?” and just like that, your attitude returns. like you’ve suddenly remembered you’re supposed to hate him.
his eyes narrow as he meets your sudden glare, “i’m capable of doing the bare minimum, yes.” pulling out his notebook, you’re instantly drawn to the very detailed illustrations on his journal, his handwriting neat and precise. suguru skims through his notes on the primary motor cortex, long, slim fingers trailing behind the page with each word he reads.
nothing about him is sloppy, you’ve come to notice. his hair’s carefully tucked away from his face, his clothes are without creases, even his converse are miraculously clean. you force yourself to look away before he notices your lingering gaze, staring at your computer.
silence clung onto your quiet space of the library, only the sound of your taps against your keyboard echoing around the space. you’ve been scanning through abstracts for what seems to be an eternity, trying to find articles worth using in your project. the words start to mesh into one big times new roman blob.
the sun’s set by the time you’ve finished your session for the day, students trickling out the doors one by one. a few still linger on the tables, the sharp fluorescent from their computer screen only highlighting each and every one of their exhausted features.
rubbing a hand over your eyes, you’re forcing yourself to stay focused. to keep reading the paragraph in front of you—hemiparesis, studies show recovery after stroke is most effective in the first three to six months, neuroplasticity… “you want something to eat?” the question breaks you out of your stupor, looking up to see geto starting to pack up already.
he expects a protest at first, a why the hell would i endure more than necessary with you? and you’d thought about it—the idea of having to spend more time than necessary almost just as appealing as going through studying free-radical reactions again. but then again, you’d be stupid not to bank in on a chance to get free food, especially when you can hear your stomach growling in the silent halls of the library.
so to his surprise, you merely shrugged, “sure. i get to pick the place, though.”
—
suguru wholeheartedly expects you to drain his pockets, expects you to pick an expensive restaurant where reservations are a three month wait, where the menus don’t have the prices next to them, and chandeliers glisten overhead in dizzying glamour.
but you settle for a small ramen shop not to far off campus, tucked away in a corner. it’d be hard to miss if you weren’t looking for it. a bell chimes overhead upon your arrival, the rich scent of broth and vegetables permeating through the air with each step you took inside.
one of the shop owners stepped out from the back, approaching you with a tight embrace. “we’ve missed you around here. you don’t show your face too much anymore,” she jests with a small, wistful sigh. you’ve been neglecting coming over, often finding yourself too tired to make the walk over, resigned to cooking yourself cheap ramen.
she doesn’t seem to linger on it for too long—turning to look over at geto, a bright smile immediately taking over her features. she doesn’t hesitate in embracing him in the same tight hug, “ooh, you finally got yourself a boyfriend. he’s real handsome.”
the idea nearly makes you recoil in your spot. “he’s not my bo-”
“thank you onēsan,” geto’s quick to interrupt your previous protest, a shit eating grin on his face when you turn to look at him. if looks could kill, he’s certain he’d be six feet under right now. but, alas, you’re not that powerful (yet), so you simply follow behind the two over to a small booth in the back.
the lights are dimmed down, the shadows playing over each crevice of his face. it’s too warm, too intimate. “what would you like to order?” you don’t need to flip through the menu brochure, “i’ll get your tsukumi soba, please.”
geto spends a few seconds scanning through the menu, reading over one side before flipping it around. “your beef yakisoba, please.” she takes away your menus, retreating into the back to get the noodles started up. ambient music plays in the background, your fingers tapping against the table. it’s still for a minute, quiet.
he breaks the silence first, gesturing to the space around you, “so can i ask why you picked this place?”
you purse your lips, pretending to be deep in thought before uttering, “no, you cannot.”
“alright then.” geto’s not sure why he expected another response to you, why he expected that one dinner would be enough to change your mind about him.
you merely raise a brow, unimpressed. “do you give up so easily on your endeavors?”
“no,” he’s quick to defend, “i just don’t want to risk making you uncomfortable.”
you can’t believe you’re letting suguru know you on a more intimate level, already regretting the words before you’re even speaking. “i chose this place because the owner’s been kind to me—” he perks up like a puppy at the information, so much for being nonchalant (he couldn’t be even if he tried), “—i came here when i didn’t have anything other than five bucks to my name. and even though the business isn’t doing so well, she covered the rest for me that day.
“i haven’t been here in a while. but i like to come whenever i have a little extra money and i have the time to.” you don’t add your father had been nearly laid off from his position at the time of the incident, leaving you scrambling to figure out how to pay rent on time, much less worry about an actual meal. the old woman had extended a hand of kindness where you weren’t expecting any.
geto clears his throat, “thank you for letting me know this little slice of you. it’s nice knowing you as something other than the valedictorian with a grudge.” you let out a noncommittal hum in response, watching as the old woman walked over with your food. you were welcomed by the earthy scent of the noodles, the aroma wafting throughout the table.
you could feel your mouth start to water before she even finished putting the plates down. “enjoy,” she tells you both, once again leaving you completely alone. there’s no rush when it comes to eating for either of you, no sense of urgency to get out. you blow on your noodles, twisting them around your chopsticks before taking a bite.
“so, are they up to your palate?” why you were making conversation with geto, you didn’t know. but nevertheless, you couldn’t exactly take the words back once they’d left your lips.
“they are. better than what i’m used to.” you savor each drop that lands on your tongue, each bite of the egg yolk that you take. it’s just the right amount of runny, the taste melding in perfectly with the broth. geto makes a few comments here in between about how good the beef is, how the noodles taste, and for once, you don’t find yourself wanting to smash a keyboard over his head.
you even make a few remarks yourself, about the different kinds of noodles that the shop offered. like you were already planning out to come here with him again. the thought should’ve been unsettling, should’ve been straight of your worst nightmares, but it wasn’t all too bad.
geto doesn’t hesitate in leaving a hefty tip behind when the check comes, earning a bright smile from the old lady. it seems she approves of him.
“do you want me to walk you back home?” he speaks up once you make it out of the shop, lingering on the street. it’s dark outside and you still had a long way to walk back home—but it’s just what you need. being in close proximity with geto has messed with your head enough, made him seem tolerable for one afternoon.
“i’d rather take my chances getting kidnapped,” you retort, already starting to walk away. he doesn’t linger for too long, walking away in the opposite direction. the walk back home is brisk, only a few cars passing by on the street, a nice chill in the air. it doesn’t take long for you to reach your building,
you’re certain you see a figure swinging away from the same direction geto had just headed in. you amount it to exhaustion, to your mind playing tricks on you. stepping inside your apartment, you’re welcomed to complete darkness—both of your parents already off to bed.
following suit, you drop your backpack off on the floor and get changed into your pair of pajamas as quietly as you can. you’ve barely managed to get into bed, to snuggle underneath your warm blanket, when your phone buzzes.
a message from geto.
geto: i hope you didn’t get kidnapped on your way home.
you: i’m sure that you’d be delighted to hear that, less competition for valedictorian after all.
geto: fair point. but then i’d have to do this project all by myself :(
you: i’m sure you’d be able to figure out if you rubbed your last two brain cells together
geto: i’m sure. good night.
—
you don’t see much of geto throughout the week—not that you’ve had much time to give it any thought (is what you keep trying to convince yourself of). in between trying to study for quizzes, getting assignments done, and searching for internships in the summer, you haven’t had much time to breathe much less pay attention to your group member.
“good afternoon class. today we’ll be going over neural coding and the perception of sound, we’re on page 456.” the sound of fingers tapping against keys rings throughout the classroom—yours included, as you start typing out your notes for dr. yaga’s lecture. he starts talking about neuron frequency and parameters, studying an orientation tuning curve—the sound of his voice fading into the background once you take a look around the classroom.
suguru didn’t show up for today’s lecture, his seat taken up by a guy who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed five minutes ago. you should be glad—you don’t have to talk to him in the odd case yaga ends the class early. instead…you find yourself wondering just what exactly prompted his absence. wondering if he’s okay. your fingers inch towards your phone across the table, about to take hold before you remember—
you hate this guy. he’s probably fine and you don’t need him anyways—you could complete the project on your own accord. right? right. instead of thinking about geto any further than you had to, you picked back up on writing the lecture notes yaga was giving on mt tuning curves, on visual motion in different directions and rose plots.
your day ends in a blur of different powerpoint presentations, note taking, and about twenty different assignments due on friday at 11:59 with no exceptions. there’s still some time before you have to head back home, so you decide to head to the library. it’s quiet upon entering, the few students inside burrowed deep within a book or a last minute paper they don’t even have articles for yet. padding against the carpet, you take your seat at your usual place. second floor, table near the window.
suguru shows up at the library five minutes later, a grey hoodie pulled over his head. he looks rough, a splotchy purple bruise marking his right eye—roughly a day or two old if you had to guess, along with a nasty cut running across his cheek. he looks like he hasn’t slept in days—hair tousled up into a half-assed attempt at a bun and rings circling underneath his eyes. you almost wince at the sight.
“you look like you’ve been hit by a train.” suguru didn’t want to admit that he had, in fact, had to hold a train back on a shattered track. he pulled a seat across the table, a pained expression on his face and a hand clasped around his (very broken) ribs upon taking a seat. his backpack dropped to the floor in one ungraceful sweep, pins clattering against each other upon impact.
still, he tried to pretend like he wasn’t actively in pain. pulling his laptop out from his backpack, tapping quickly to open up the shared presentation you’d set up. you didn’t mention anything, neither did he. it wasn’t your place to. a quiet settled upon the table, each of you getting to work on your designated slides.
it only lasts for about ten minutes when,“what’d he go over during the lecture today?” he questioned, looking up from his laptop to meet your gaze.
“i’ll send the doc over once we’re done here, maybe you’ll even do better on the test with my notes in hand.” on another occasion, maybe he would’ve met your retort with another one of his own, would’ve tried to tease you back. but all he could manage was a weak laugh, “yeah, maybe.”
the next two hours are relatively quiet, if only for a few questions about formatting, about including an article shared in between whispers. suguru doesn’t look much better than when he first stepped foot into the door—hand still clutched around his ribs as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. “i don’t know what happened to you,” you start off, his attention diverted from packing up for the night, “but come over next time you’re hurt. i don’t have much but i can at least stitch you up. don’t really wanna get stuck doing your portion of the work when you’re half dead.”
suguru pushes his laptop inside his backpack before speaking, “right. you’ll be my nurse for the sake of your grade?”
“absolutely for the sake of my grade.” you hand him over a ripped piece of notebook paper with your address scribbled onto it, watching as he carefully tucks it away in the back of his phone.
“i’ll take you up on that, then.”
“good.” a breath you didn’t realize you were holding leaves your lips upon exiting the library, a relief filling your body. you convince yourself it’s the assurance of your gpa staying intact—it’s not. you couldn’t stand to see geto sit around in pain, hear his meek attempts to keep up with your banter and each strained breath he let out when he stood still for too long.
you worried about him. for the first time, you admitted to yourself feeling something other than petty hate towards him.
you: i hope you feel better. doesn’t feel the same being mean to you.
suguru: i’ll try. get home safe.
—
as begrudging as it becomes to admit, you slowly start to get comfortable to having suguru around. to having your designed meet up at the library every monday and wednesday at four, being greeted with a warm cup of coffee and a kind of patience a saint would be jealous of.
it’s ridiculous. suguru doesn’t stoop as low as to meet your biting remarks with one of his own. he simply treats it with a calm smile, with a, “yeah, i’ll get that done.” when you bite out an order to do something.
“you’re more capable than i gave you credit for,” you remark, opening up the powerpoint to find that he’d settled on picking a nice theme. he’d picked up on where you left off last night with ease—sorting out your scrambled mess of notes into something feasible.
it was weird having someone you didn’t have to constantly be explaining yourself to. weird, but nice.
“well, you set a high bar. i, at least, have to make the effort to be worthy of working with you,” he retorts, reaching over. a quiet laugh escapes you, a sound he wants to bottle up just so he knows he’s not imaging it.
“your efforts are greatly appreciated.” you’re not sure when’s the last time you’ve been such at ease working on a group project. maybe never. you’re usually too stressed out trying to pick up where everyone else is lacking. plugging your earbuds on, you get back to reading through an article on motor functions.
“you should send me that playlist. for motivational purposes, of course,” suguru speaks up when you’re finished for the night. amongst corny science memes (from his part) and photos of cats he’s found on the street, you send him your playlist. showing him a glimpse of your soul—or at least what you like to listen to.
of course, it’s in alphabetical order. he finds himself playing each song, carefully listening to each of the lyrics. wondering what your thoughts were when listening, how you related to each one. your mind was a complex cavern, one that he intended to explore fully.
and across the city, you find yourself thinking about every interaction you’ve been having with him lately. about how he’s changed his brand of pencils to pentel 0.5mm in case you’d ever ask for one, the way his touch makes you feel like your body’s been electrocuted, how he’s memorized your coffee order by now.
you’re thinking too much about it, aren’t you? definitely. no way in hell you’re starting to develop feelings for suguru geto. you hate him. you hate him. you hate him.
and yet, why can’t you convince yourself of the fact?
“you’re acting weird. you okay?” suguru doesn’t hesitate to call you out, noticing you’ve been all too quiet during your session today. no biting remarks, no jokes, just silence. at first, it was comforting. now it just seems unsettling.
you nearly jump out of your seat, having been staring at the same word—and—for the past five minutes. you clear your throat, nodding. “i’m alright.” he’s not convinced but he lets it go. maybe you’re just having a bad day. you’re grateful he doesn’t try to ask any more questions, but… you miss the conversation.
fuck, you’re screwed.
—
suguru: can’t show up to our library session tonight, try not to miss me too much ;)
you’re not sure why you almost feel…disappointed at the news, wondering if he’s off getting beat up like he did two weeks ago. but it’s not like you wanted him to see that you’d put in more effort into dressing up today—that you’d ditched your (very comfortable) hoodie and sweats for a pair of jeans and a nice blouse you’d gotten on a discount rack. that you’d put on a dab of mascara and tinted gloss.
absolutely not. you didn’t care.
with nothing else to do around campus, you decide to head back home. flipping the tv on, you quickly come to find out each news channel’s covering the same segment—a giant lizard terrorizing the city while spider-man swings from building to building before jumping into action.
the hero picks up a decent looking buick, the expensive car practically weightless in his arms, tossing it over. it pierces through the air like a bullet, cameramen at the scene quickly panning their cameras to the zooming vehicle going at what seems to be a hundred miles per hour. it lands.
and spider-man misses. tossing it a mile past the point where the lizard’s crawling up a building, the car crashing into nothing but a mess of glass and debris. police sirens speed closer to the scene of the crime, thick clouds of grey smoke from the impact clouding up the atmosphere.
that’d be your last straw, you think. coming out of a late shift only to find your car completely totaled into smithereens. without so much as having some kind of insurance it’d be covered under.
luckily, it’s not you.
with that thought, you shut your tv off. choosing instead to work on some assignments, to work on converting radon mass into mols, to filling out equations that had more symbols than numbers on it. the hours pour over slowly, sun fading away into the shadows as night takes over.
there’s a knock on your window. you live on the third floor, that’s enough to unsettle you as it is. no one could get up here without using the fire escape, and that seemed like too much of a hassle just to rob you. right? another knock followed after the first, forcing you to get up from your spot.
shoving the curtains to the side, you’re met with the sight of spider-man outside your window. his suit’s ripped and tattered, exposing slivers of a blood streaked gash running down his chest. his chest heaves with each ragged and hoarse breath that leaves his lungs, a sharp pain digging through his ribs.
he leans against your windowsill, clutching a hand tightly against his stomach. his other hand reaches up, swiping at the constricting mask concealing his identity. black hair falls in long waves once its freed from its confines, a face you’re too familiar with meeting your gaze.
suguru. he leans his head back, a smear of blood marking his cheek. he’s never looked as hot as he did now—bleeding out and groaning at your windowsill. “hey, nice to see you again,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, “room looks cozy.”
there’s about a million questions bubbling in your head. how’d he manage to go to school and be the city’s hero? how’d he deal with the burden placed on his shoulders? still, there’s no time for you to be surprised. you have to act quick before he loses any more blood.
easing him into your bed, you get out your suturing kit with 140 pieces inside. pulling on a pair of gloves, you’re quick to get out what you need. a nylon needle, a silk piece of thread, some alcohol pads, and an advil just in case. “why’d you come to me?” you bring yourself to ask, pulling away at the sopping latex fabric.
it falls to your bedroom floor with an unceremonious plop, blood smearing onto your hardwood floors. you’d clean it up later. for now, you focus on evaluating the wound. the slash cut deep enough where stitches were necessary, but it seemed straight forward for the most part.
“you’re the only one in our program i trust not to drive a needle through a vein and stab me half to death,” he responds after a bit, his breathing labored as your hands squish the wound together. trying to make some sense of the ragged edges you’re trying to line up, of where you needed to poke the needle through.
“high praise,” you murmur, blood seeping and dripping from the rag you were delicately rubbing against his skin. cleaning him up as gently as possible, trying to avoid hurting the gash any more than necessary. any more than you needed to before the next step.
silence settles over your room as you draw the needle through his skin, piercing just deep enough to ensure it’d be sealed properly. forcing your trembling hands to steady, you get to work. sliding the needle through his skin, tightening the thread against each edge of the gash with each knot you do. it’s not perfect—you know that much, but it’s enough for right now.
“are you okay?” you’re the first one to break the silence tonight, gently wiping away at the streaks of crimson marring his scarred skin. blood dribbles and pours from the gash, quiet winces leaving his lips when you happen to press too hard.
a disgruntled, frustrated sigh leaves his lips, “no. the lizard escaped from me at last minute and i have no idea how to start looking for him.” taking your gloves off, you’re now faced with an incredibly hard decision. figuring out what suguru was going to wear.
you’re sure he’s bound to get questions if he walks out in a spider-man costume, digging through your cabinets to find something. an old pair of sweats that’s been too big and an oversized shirt. that’s good enough. “thanks.” suguru takes the clothes from you, quickly sliding them on.
“i’m sure you’ll find him. you’re nothing if not persistent,” you reassure, swiping away at a hair that covered his face. lightly, you dragged a clean rag through his cheeks, wiping away ruby colored streaks in three swipes. his gaze goes to your lips, your breath catches in your throat.
you’re too close. you should pull away, should tell him to leave and go back to studying. instead, you lean into the kiss. slowly and tentatively pressing your lips against his own, one of your hands coming to rest on his shoulder.
bruised hands settle on your waist, tugging you closer against his body. his lips brush against yours with all the patience in the world, the taste of him intoxicating up close. nothing else—not the city of new york, not the lizard—mattered. his lips locked against yours like a missing puzzle piece, slotting against yours perfectly.
“is this why you’ve been acting weird towards me?” suguru breathes out when he pulls away, forehead resting against your own. the proximity, of being mere inches apart, has heat rising up your neck, up to your face. everywhere you turned, he was there.
“yes,” your response comes out as a breathless whisper, his fingers drawing small lines against your arms. there’s no rush to the moment, no rush into pulling yourselves apart. a shiver runs down your spine as his touch ghosts even higher, leaving you wanting more.
hinges creak against themselves as soon as your bedroom door’s swung open, your father standing in the doorway. his eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of suguru plopped down on your bed, the two of you too close for comfort. you quickly scooted away, putting on a few inches of distance.
it wasn’t enough to erase his intrigue. with an exasperated huff, he rubbed a hand over his temples, “do you want to tell me why there’s a guy over this late? and with your door closed?” not particularly, but you figured it wasn’t as much as a question as an accusation.
“he…uh…” oh no, you hesitated. your father’s brows merely furrowed while you scrambled to find any reasonable excuse to have suguru geto in your bed at 10 pm. c’mon think think think. he’s getting suspicious.
suguru can practically see the wheels turning in your head, his teeth biting down on his lip to keep himself from snickering. your eyes dart from one corner of your room to the next, to your bed, to your nightstand before you take hold of the shut laptop next to you, blurting out, “he came to work on our project!”
“out!” your father exclaims just as soon as you’ve finished trying to find an excuse, “project my ass, we use the front door in this house for those.” he storms off into the living room, presumably to continue to continue watching his late night soccer game.
suguru let out a quiet laugh, leaning over to press a small kiss on your forehead. it doesn’t feel like enough after your admission, feels too small. but, it’s what you’ll have to make do for now. “for someone so smart, you sure are a bad liar, pretty girl.”
you’re left alone again.
you can’t focus on your project. the blank screen on your monitor burnt into your retinas, blinking cursor on the screen taunting you with each second that passes.
you can’t sleep either. you’ve tried. tossed and turned from one side to the next, throwing your leg over one of your prized plushies to no avail. you try counting sheep, you try listening to calming asmr in attempts it’d still your racing mind. nothing works. frustration boils deep in your gut, your thighs rubbing against one another.
you don’t think about suguru as just the guy you once hated and are now starting to develop a crush on, but you see him as spider-man too. see the responsibility that he takes on to protect the city, to ensure that people feel just a little bit safer walking down the streets while keeping up with school. while still managing to get you your coffee every day without so much as a protest.
the more that you get to know about him, the more that you realize that you’ve already fallen for him. tonight—that kiss—had just cemented the fact, your mind lingering on how soft he’d been. how gentle and reverent he’d treated you, being patient without treating you like you couldn’t handle it.
with a resigned sigh, you slowly began to trail your fingers down your navel. dragging your fingertips against the sensitive flesh, picturing geto’s long, digits as your eyes flutter shut. imagining his soft, plush lips making their way down your body the same you are, with an amount of reverence and tenderness.
you don’t dip your fingers inside your cunt just yet, rubbing yourself through the thin material of your panties, sliding your fingertips against your clothed slit, slowly starting to drip through the thin material. your fingers move up, rubbing at your neglected clit in small little circles.
deep in the back of his mind, suguru knows he’s not supposed to intrude on such a private moment. and yet, he can’t bring himself to leave.
he can hear footsteps up to five miles away, can hear every whispered conversation, and yet all he can focus on is the way your breath picks up, the sound of your cunt squelching around the fingers. on your rapid heartbeat thumping against your chest, on the whisper of his name that you thought left your lips into the dead of night.
wait, what?
“oh, fuck, suguru.” a breathless whisper leaves your lips, his ears perking up underneath the mask. he can practically taste you on his tongue with how intense the scent penetrates through your bedroom walls. his cock throbs in the latex, precum smearing onto the costume. that’s enough to get him sliding the costume down to his mid thighs, leaving him nearly exposed.
anybody could look up and see the city’s hero jerking himself off on the side of a building. that should’ve been enough to stop him, to make him wait until he was in his room. but no, instead, he wraps his hand around his shaft, thumb smearing precum alllll the way down to the base.
you are all that consumes his thoughts, his very being.
pushing your panties to the side, you dip two fingers inside your cunt with a wet little shlickk. all the while picturing suguru’s thick fingers instead of your own, picturing how’d he finger you. he’d start slow—just to tease you. so you decide to slowly start pumping your fingers in and out, slick dripping down to your knuckles.
suguru starts off at the same pace you’re going, timing his own orgasm to your own. soul ties and the such. his fingers wrap tightly around his cock, fist slowly dragging uppp and downn the shaft. he rubs at his swollen cockhead, smearing precum over his fist and his dick.
“o-oh fuck,” a hushed moan leaves your lips, your fingers curling about a inch in. you’re hitting your g-spot with each thrust of your fingertips, back bowed into an arch. would he let you cum? maybe if he was feeling kind enough. you rub at your clit, pushing yourself to reach your peak only to let it slip through your fingers right at the precipice.
when you do let yourself cum to the thought of it being on suguru’s fingers, of imagining him bringing them up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them and tasting you fully, you soak your fingers and sheets underneath with a shuddered little moan.
suguru isn’t faring well outside of your window either.
sweat dribbles down from his forehead, heavy load of cum covering his hand and stomach. he leans his head back, listening to your racing heartbeat slowly return back to normal. he wipes his hand off on the side of his costume, zipping it back up before reluctantly heading back home.
so much for hating him.
—
you avoid suguru geto completely after that.
it wasn’t that hard in the grand scheme of things. sure, you were both confined to the same building for most of the day, but you avoided taking any main hallways you were certain to find him in. avoided lingering in the lounge for too long, hiding away in the back stairwell and doing some assignments. it’s quite nice the few times you get lucky and there’s no one making out underneath.
and sure, you had a few classes together, but you avoid being in your usual spots. go up to sit in the back instead of the front, in one of the far right wings of the auditorium where even the professor’s surprised when they take attendance. you don’t linger too much after class either, immediately leaving upon dismissal with your head down.
but even then, you supposed you should’ve accounted for how to avoid him at your own home.
“do i have to keep showing up to your house all bruised and battered for you to spare your friendly neighborhood spider-man five minutes?” suguru pops his head in through your window, sliding his mask off once he was inside.
you raise a brow, leaning in closer to take a look at the ‘wound’ he’s whining and pouting about. it’s a simple cut across his cheek, already starting to heal from his enhanced abilities. “you came over for this?”
“yes. i’m dying, doc,” he deadpans much to your dismay. you gesture for him to take a seat on your bed, watching as he makes himself at home amongst your plushies. taking a hold of your kit, you stand in between his legs to clean up the cut.
that’s not good enough for suguru.
“what the—” his hands take hold of your waist, easing you down onto his lap. your thighs rest upon either side of his own, your ass pressed directly on top of his lap. moving forward slightly, you grind yourself against him, a quiet moan leaving your lips upon feeling the tip against your clit.
how very unprofessional of you.
you force yourself to stay focused, taking his face in your hand. purple eyes glimmer underneath the pale moonlight, meeting your gaze as your fingers brush against the ‘bruise.’ slowly, you dab on a little bit of antibiotic onto the cut before plastering on a hello kitty bandaid on his cheek. “perfect.”
neither one of you moves. suguru’s hands stay splayed against your waist, holding you tightly against his body. trying to keep you there as long as possible. you let him, your fingers ghosting across his face before you reluctantly pull your hand away.
this time, his hand cradles your cheek, “i haven’t been able to stop thinking about your lips since the last time i’ve seen you. thinking about kissing you again.” he didn’t kiss you like he had last time, gentle and patient, no, he kissed you like he was desperate (which he, admittedly, was).
your hips swivel as you grind yourself down on his hardening cock, feeling each ridge against your dripping cunt. heavy breaths leave your lips the faster you start moving against him, the more you feel his tip prodding into your clothed pussy. “this feel good?” he questions, his hands moving up your nightshirt. cupping your breasts in between his hands, rubbing his thumb around your nipples.
“y-yeah, feels good,” you nod, head thrown back and back arched. your nails dig into his shoulders, using that as leverage as you move yourself against him. his lips move down to your neck, leaving kiss after kiss as he trails his way down. he slides your shirt off, tossing it to one corner of your room.
“can i taste you, please?” you nod, expecting him to get down on his knees and get in between your legs. to start slowly kissing his way up your legs before making his way to your cunt. but no, you watch as he crawls up to your ceiling, sticking it it before hanging upside down.
a thin, white string’s clutched between his fingers, keeping him in position. suguru hangs off your roof with relative ease, onyx strands cascading onto your silk sheets. he leans forward, his free hand swiping at the slick dribbling from your puffy folds.
syrupy strings cling onto his gloved fingertips, tongue enveloping around the latex to taste every last drop. “need to taste all of you, spread out for me,” suguru uses his free hand to spread your legs apart, your ass up in the air as you settle into an arch, “there we go. just like that, princess.”
he delves in like a man starving, his tongue swiping across your slit, lapping up every drop of your essence. your fingers tightly wrap around your sheets, hips moving back to meet his eager mouth. he’s unabashed with each swipe, with each lick to your sopping pussy.
suguru takes one of your folds in his mouth, spit slobbering over the sensitive skin to mix with the syrupy slick dripping onto his tongue, starting to make out with your lower pair of lips. “fuck, you’re so good to me, wanna stay here,” he’s already pussydrunk, each babble leaving his lips like water.
while nothing about him is sloppy, the way that he’s making out with your pussy certainly is. he takes note of what makes your heart run faster, what makes you react to adjust what he does. no reaction you make goes unnoticed.
you gushed around his mouth and chin like a running faucet, your essence smeared all over his face. suguru slid his tongue in and outt of your cunt, his nose nudging against your sensitive clit with each push. “so, so good sugu,” you whined against him, eyes rolling back. each swipe of his tongue, the desperate way he ate you out, had you inching closer and closer to your orgasm.
“mm, i know, i know,” he coos, jaw falling slack as he buries his face in between your legs. he alternates between making out with your folds, tracing his tongue across each one, and thrusting his tongue in and out of your hole. suguru licks up a broad stripe up your cunt to your clit, the tip of his tongue drawing a small circle onto the nub.
blood rushes down to his head, almost making him feel high off the taste of your cunt. his lips latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the nub. “fuck, fuck, sugu, just like that!” your praise only serves to spur him on, your orgasm the only thing on his mind.
two of his fingers dip inside your cunt, filling you even better than you’d imagined just a few days ago. suguru curls his fingers perfectly, drawing out desperate moans from your lips with each prod against your g-spot. he continues sucking around your clit, pleasure building up deep in your gut.
his fingers spread you open, pearlescent slick dribbling down his gloved fingers. your hips move on their own accord, pushing them even deeper as you chase your orgasm. “gonna cum, gonna cum,” you babble, smearing yourself across his face and fingers. your own couldn’t compare to this, not by a long mile.
“that’s it, come for me, take what you want from me,” suguru’s words unraveled you like a birthday present, your orgasm hitting your body in waves. shudders rack through your body, your legs shaking as your release spurted out of you, coating his mouth, chin, and nose. he’s quick to lap up at the drops lingering on his lips, wrapping his mouth around his fingers. sucking them off completely, a moan leaving his lips at the taste.
suguru made quick work of sliding down the rest of his costume, letting it fall on your floor. his cock slapped against his stomach once released, tan at the base with a couple veins running up the thick shaft, tip a reddish pink and dripping drops of precum. a slight eight inches if you had to go off on estimate.
he moves to his spot behind you, wrapping a hand around his shaft. slowly starting to swipe it up and down your folds, tip nudging against your sensitive clit. “i thought it was fuck me, c’mon sweetheart, tell sugu how much you hate him
“fuck y—” his cock sinks in completely, lips parting into a moan while your walls clench around him, tightly wrapped around his shaft like a vice. suguru doesn’t move just yet, even as you push your hips back for some kind of friction, “come on, finish your sentence. don’t be rude.”
you’re too desperate to form a cohesive thought—blurting out the first thing on your mind, “oh fuck me, please!”
“with pleasure, sweetheart.” he pulls back in one swift motion, hips snapping against your own when he thrusts back in, curve of his cock dizzying as it hit every single spot that had your toes curl. "ah ah ah, fuck, don't stop!" suguru doesn’t start off fast, but he starts off deep—letting you feel every inch he was stuffing inside. your cunt dripped around his shaft, squelching as your slick mixed in with the drops of precum dribbling down.
“like this?” he has the audacity to ask, his hands gripping onto your waist as he fucks into you. your ass jiggles back against him with each shove of his cock, balls smacking against the back of your thighs. he starts to move faster, pounding into your cunt like he wanted to imprint the shape of him into your walls.
“j-just like that!” you respond, head buried into the sheets in front of you. the grip you had on your sheets tightens tenfold, body jerking back and forth. that just won’t do. he raises your head up from its hiding spot, turning your head to kiss you. it’s sloppy, it’s desperate, and it’s more teeth and tongue than anything.
it’s perfect.
“keep your head up, wanna hear every little moan,” he babbles behind you, reveling in every little ah! ah! ah! that left your lips, moans mixing in with the sound of skin slapping against skin. your eyes roll back, drool leaking from your lips with every inch he drags across your cunt.
suguru plants one of his feet up on the bed, the position allowing for him to thrust even deeper. his tip kissed your cervix with each punishing thrust of his hips, each vein and ridge rubbing against your walls deliciously. one of his hands moves down in between your legs, rubbing desperate little circles around your clit.
you clamp down around his shaft, your release quickly building up. suguru feels his own approaching, balls tightening up, but he’s determined. determined to make you gush around his cock before he spills his load. your legs tremble and quake, orgasm hitting you much more intense than last time.
your release dribbles and spurts around his shaft, a creamy ring at the base as he pulls back. his hips stutter while he tries to maintain his pace, abs clenching the longer he tries to prolong his orgasm. “come for me, suguru, fill me up.” that’s enough to drag a strangled moan from his lips, a thick load of cum painting your walls white.
suguru remains still for a second before gently pulling his softening cock out, watching as you all but collapse face down onto your bed. “where do you keep your rags?” he moves across your bedroom, heading over to the bathroom.
“second cabinet on the right.” he grabs a few, making sure to get one wet enough to clean up between your legs. he takes the opportunity that your parents aren’t home to leave your bedroom, going over to grab a water bottle.
“here, take a sip.” he holds it up against your mouth, your hands reaching out to take hold of it. a moment of stillness, calm settles over your bedroom as he lightly rubs the rag against your skin, wiping away the milky trails of cum dribbling down your cunt and thighs. you close off the bottle, setting it aside on your nightstand.
“my photography class is making me submit my portfolio for my final, wanted to know if you’d be my model for tomorrow,” he speaks up, settling next to you. he wipes the sweat away from your forehead with a clean rag, just as gently as he’d done before. your body feels sluggish and limp, melting into his embrace as he wraps a hand around your stomach.
“that sounds nice. i’ll show up around three,” you whisper before succumbing to sleep, one of your own arms wrapped around his chest. even if suguru wanted to move (which he didn’t), he couldn’t move with how tightly you were holding onto him. it was the nicest sleep you’ve had thus far, the most relaxed you’ve allowed yourself to be.
the walk over to his apartment was quiet, the city still with each step you took. the trees rustled with each light breeze that passed, birds chirped a melody in the distance. for once, there weren’t any police sirens or honking cars out on the street.
maybe that should’ve been your first sign something was wrong.
—
the quiet before the storm never seems to last for very long, does it?
you never made it to his apartment. never sent a text message saying you couldn’t make it, no kind of explanation. suguru had been waiting for hours now, unwilling to accept the fact he’d simply been ghosted out of the blue. sure, you’d done that before, but his gut told him otherwise.
turning his tv on, he was greeted by the sight of the lizard. he’d regenerated faster than expected, all the effort that suguru put into fighting him the first time diminished into nothing but cheap headlines. but that’s not all that he sees. when the camera pans in, focusing on the lizard’s scaly hand, his heart drops to his ass.
“come out, come out if you want to see your girlfriend again, spider.” each taunt only makes his blood boil, watching helplessly as the lizard dangled your limp body from side to side. dropping you, gasps erupting from the public watching, before his tail wrapped around your body. “you know where to find me.”
pulling the mask on to defend the city had always felt like an obligation, some kind of punishment for sneaking out during a field trip and getting himself bit by a radioactive spider. but this time, it felt more like necessity. adrenaline pumped through his veins, pushing him through each building he swung and pulled himself off of.
of course, the lizard couldn’t have made things easy enough for him. sneaking through the clock tower, he came across a machine set to go off in thirty minutes, containing a vial full of lizard dna. if the average person would so much as inhale even a speck of air when it went off, they’d immediately face the effects.
effects that their body wasn’t suited to take, effects that their body would reject until their untimely demise. the countdown ticked, 30… 29… 28… and right at the same time spider-man made his appearance, the lizard decided to give him a choice. the city of new york or you.
spider-man was a hero revered for his ability to think fast on his feet, for his ability to swing into action with the best possible solution.
but suguru was fucking scared.
he could hear his heart thumping in his ears, his breaths coming out in short little wisps. even one little second was too much to waste, a second that could’ve to save you. to save the city of new york. the machine doesn’t take long to deactivate, only needing the vial to be removed. green smoke evaporated into nothingness, the machine’s countdown coming to a halt.
he couldn’t afford to hesitate now. suguru tossed himself off the clocktower’s peak, diving straight towards where you were helplessly flailing around. your hands clawed at pure air, reaching out for a final salvation to no avail. his wrist flicked forward, a silken web extending out to your chest.
four strings extended from the original web, a hand reaching out towards your body. you flailed helplessly in mid air, hearing people gasp and scream right behind you. you couldn’t focus on them, couldn’t focus on anything but suguru. the air feels cold, too loud in your ears, your vision blurry. the ground seems so close, and yet so far away. like you’re falling in slow motion.
suguru was so close, he was nearly there. his fingertips grazed against your skin, reaching out to take hold of your hand. just as soon as he thought he’d assured a tight grip over your body, you slipped away from his fingers. the web connected to your body, a second too late.
the memories behind your eyelids weren’t ones about your academic achievements, about a party you skipped to get your pre-sat score higher. no, you got painful reminders of everything you didn’t get to do. that you didn’t get to go out on a date with suguru, that you didn’t get the chance to get to know him better, that you’d die and no one would know you as anything other than the girl with a tight stick up her ass. you’d never be able to do those things, either.
never get to feel the warmth of the sun against your face again, never get to feel the softness and tenderness from suguru’s touch. that one, you think, hurts the most.
CRACK.
he felt it before he heard it. felt the moment your heart went silent, the moment that spider-man failed you. still, he persisted. there must be something he could still do, anything at all.
he can’t afford to lose you, he just can’t.
his hands hooked underneath your legs when he got close enough, cradling you close to his chest. “hey,” his voice cracks, tears welling underneath his mask. “open your eyes, please. talk to me. say you hate me, say you love me, say anything.
just… come back to me. please.” guilt seeps in through the open wound with a vengeance, a reminder you wouldn’t have been in this predicament if he wasn’t so careless. if spider-man hadn’t allowed himself to feel a smidge of happiness, you’d still be alive.
you had many dreams in the world. and that’s all they would be, just dreams.
the world moves on without you, just the same as it had while you were in it. there’s quiet whispers in the halls, your seat in each class available almost out of respect? out of fear of a ghost? whatever the case may be—parties are still thrown, tests are still being held, and yet… suguru remains stagnant. haunted by the memory of you, your touch burning into his hand. he could’ve reached you, should’ve tried to catch you instead of throwing a web aimlessly.
you don’t leave his mind. every waking moment, he’s reminded of you in everything he does. how you’d be pissed off he’s letting his gpa fall to the gutter because he can’t bring himself to open up stupid canvas. how he’d never get to have anything with you that wasn’t banter or a night of sex. maybe it would’ve been better if he never approached you at all. if he didn’t ruin your life as spider-man.
internships he’d signed up for the sole purpose of getting on your last nerve are given to him on a silver platter, achievements that you’ve worked hard to earn given to him as if nothing happened in the first place. as if he could ever come close to being as deserving as you were. he hits decline on each and every single offer, not even bothering to give a polite email in response. the project’s only finished because it felt wrong to leave it as it was, and even then, suguru knows it’s not the best it could’ve been.
crime still runs rampant through the streets of new york—stolen bicycles, snatched purses, robberies gone awry, and yet, suguru doesn’t put on the suit. knows that he wouldn’t be able to hold his punches otherwise. and as much as he tries to keep moving forward, forcing himself to show up to classes he’d paid half a fortune for, you weren’t the only one who died that day.
—
WHERE IS SPIDER-MAN?!
article published by the daily bugle, 2026
spider-man. the man we seek out to solve most of our problems throughout the city whether it be the simplest of bank robberies or a giant lizard wrecking havoc amongst the city.
he has shown up time and time again in our time of need, in times where everything was once thought of as a lost cause. but one has to wonder, how good is this dependence?
the webbed vigilante has left us to our own devices, having gone missing for months now. we are completely helpless, doubting our finest officers that put their lives on the line to keep us safe. this sick hero’s been working on his own merit, on his own accord without any policing, to ‘protect’ the city.
but recently, there haven’t been any reports. any sightings of the masked hero since the fight against the lizard three months ago. nothing against the villains that he, himself, is responsible for bringing into our city. one has to wonder just where is spider-man?
Valko really is just your buff, nerdy and clingy college boyfriend that everyone thinks is a mean jock but really he’s just a big softie who likes carrying his lady (yes he calls you that- word for word) everywhere🤤😩😩
That one corny-ass campus couple who literally don’t get off each other and make you feel even more single every time they are around💀💀
the most popular frat boy of tokyo university, satoru gojo, is soon to find out that the ‘nerdy’ girl he’s been crushing on is highkey a yandere.
the signs weren’t there at first.
you were quiet, respectful, and shy. it’s what made you stick out like a sore thumb to begin with. all the girls he knew were loud and desperate. you were a change of scenery, and he loved that about you.
with you were such an easy person to talk to, secrets blurting out with full trust in you. he’d tell you about his insecurities all while the weight of his body hovered over yours, sobbing quietly as you pecked his face. “it’s okay toru.. i’m here for you.” you’d never share anything he told you. all you did was write them down in your notebook, keeping track of when they were said and how he looked when saying it.
when he would invite you over to his parties, you wouldn’t leave his side for even a second. even when he needed to go to the bathroom or greet someone, you stand beside him with that warm smile on your face.
he found it cute how ‘awkward’ you were, being too scared to depart for him for just a bit.
but awkwardness wasn’t the case. you stayed close because you would lose it if your satoru was approached to by any of the sorority girls that were looking over at his direction for more seconds than necessary. you hated them. so fucking much. they thought that if they stuck out their tits enough, he would give them the time of day. you bit the inside of your cheek, feeling yourself grow upset just thinking about them.
“you want to go back home?” his voice snapped you out of it. you nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. “yes please..”
he walked you over to your side of his car, hand in hand. you had his license plate memorized by heart. and not to mention the tracker you had stuck to the bottom of the vehicle, just to make sure he wasn’t going around with other girls.
you’d keep note of which places he visited the most, a way of learning more about him. thanks to the little tracker, you found out he loved going to cafe’s & parks. when you had suggested your next date be at his favorite cafe, it still didn’t click in his head. “how’d you know i loved going there?”
“lucky guess.”
yeah, right.
“uhhh this is it right pretty?” he rolled down the window to see clearer if he had arrived at your place. “mhm!”
“great.” he smiled, fighting the urge to lean over and kiss you. “i’m gonna go back to the frat, my friends wanna keep playing pool.” you internally screamed. if he headed back, those other girls would try and make a move. “oh.. i was gonna ask if you could maybe stay the night?”
his face brightened. “really?”
you cleaned your room earlier, making sure to hide away the small shrine you had of him. all the pictures you’ve printed out — including text messages — the pencil he had let you borrow months ago, his hair strands, etc. “yeah.. um..” you looked away ‘nervously’ acting like a girl too afraid to ask for sex.
“oh..” satoru coo’ed. “i get it. you need me hm?”
you whimpered when his lips traced your jaw, fighting back a smirk at how easily he gave in, already discarding the idea of going back to that stupid party. “let’s go inside then.”
all the times you’ve stayed over at his, your hand so desperately wanted to reach into your panties to relief the aching of it while he slept next to you. his soft snores filling in the room and you disgustingly got off on it.
“fuck you’re so sweet tonight.” he pushed his tongue into your mouth, dragging you onto his lap when you reached your bedroom. the mattress sunk beneath the weight of you two, bed slightly creaking. “thought i told you to change the bed frame? it’s too fucking loud.” he groaned.
“i like it.. reminds me how loud it gets when you’re being rough.”
“shit you’re bold hm? where’s that shy little girl?”
you kissed him back as passionate as he was, moaning into his mouth when his hands gripped your ass. it was hot, until he yelped, pulling away. your eyes widened in faux sympathy, following the little amount of blood that came out of his bottom lip you had bitten into. “toru m’sorry-“
“no no, it’s fine sweetheart. really, it was hot. just be easy on me.” satoru hugged you close, feeling his heart break at the look on your face. “no need to be sorry, i promise.”
you hid away at his neck, darting out your tongue to taste the blood that had managed to stay on your lips. “let’s go back to what we were doing..”
he tasted better than you had imagined. you wanted more of him, much more. you gently placed your lips on his again, leaving multiple pecks.
“i’m sorry.” you pouted.
“baby, i already said it was okay. fuck look, it made me hard, see?”
sure enough, his cock was already straining against his pants, begging to be released. satoru swiftly took off your top, tossing it off the bed. “wanna do it raw?” you offered, moving your fingers on his pants zipper.
satoru froze for a brief moment. were you for real?
he let out a nervous chuckle, almost in disbelief. “did you decide not to be shy today? what’s going on with you.”
“i just need you.. a lot.” your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, warming fingertips skimming up his tip before traveling back down. “o-okay.” he moaned, bucking his hips upwards. truth was, you were gonna milk him dry until all of it was inside you. that way, he had no reason to leave you.
Just watched Gacha Goblin's vid on today's events and I am floored to find out a large portion of CN players don't realize how deep and intense the lore is? That they may not engage with any game content that isn't related to their main?? What do you mean you didn't realize how all of the LI's lore is intricately tied together??
hi again everyone. i know emotions are still running high, and everyone is working to get Valko back, but a few reminders:
sleep. eat. drink water. do NOT stare at your phone all day. go get some sun. read. watch your favorite show. players all around the world are working towards the same goal. breathe. it’ll be okay.
It's hard to get time away from your kids - just you and Satoru alone together.
Very hard in fact - yet sometimes you can leave them just for a bit with their grandparents long enough for you and your husband Satoru to run to the store. Or run to grab food, do errands - that sort of thing.
However these little moments were precious- so precious in fact, that Satoru made sure to let you know how much he loved them.
Every thrust of his cock in your tight throat as you bent over while he was driving, every grip of his steering wheel with one hand, your hair with the other - the husky little moans
From his lips just urging you on.
Satoru made sure his pretty wife knew how good her mouth feels, fucking up into it with messy strokes, whining out your name as nine inches pummels your throat. Sliding past your uvula as he cries out your name on the way to the damn Home Depot.
Yes, thats your date in your thirties with three kids - home fucking depot. But God if you dont love it as much as you did in college with him, if you don't slurp that cock even messier.
"Sh-shit..." he whispers out, his tip so fucking sensitive when you swirl your tongue around it. "That's it, sucking me like you wanna milk me, huh? Slutty lil throat- ah! Perfect wife I...".
Satoru is loud.
Satoru babbles.
You fucking love that - how this man can't shut up when you swirl your tongue against his frenum, when your suction gets stronger, and your spit drools. When you can be as slutty as he wants when he pulls into the back of the parking lot, finally able to tug you up, spitting in your mouth and tasting his precum off your tongue.
"Fuck I love our dates," you giggle at that - you all are literally buying paint, but he already is tugging you against him, having you straddle him right in the minivan you take the kids to soccer in. "Wanna have another fuckin' baby, god look at you."
"Toru," you whine out when he shoves your shorts to the side, the stretchy comfy ones you wear out, fuck if he doesn't find those and your cute lil cotton panties as sexy as lingerie. He tugs them aside, eyeing your messy cunt as your nails press into his shoulders.
"Gonna ride me in the car like when we were in college, hmm? My pretty soccer mom is still slutty for me?"
"Soccer dad is slutty," you tease back, whining out when he spits right on his cock, sliding it right between your puffy lips. "Ah!"
"Need to be inside you. Fuck..." he lifts you by your hips, gliding that tip over and over, until you gush and squirt, making a mess of him. "Sweetheart... still so messy?"
Satoru slams you right down on his cock, buried to the fucking hilt - tip grinding your puffy cervix as you cry out. Still so goddamn tight, wrapping his cock just as good as you did ten years ago. Every time he fucks you he wonders just how lucky he got, with your spit getting fucked into your needy hole.
"Pretty girl," he whispers, feeling your cunt gripping him so goddamn good, glad his windows are tinted so he can fuck his pretty wife anywhere he can. "Milking me already? Ngh..."
Satoru makes sure you cum before him, thumbing your clit in pretty patterns as your ass hits the steering wheel, as your thighs press his hips and he uses you, lifting you up and down until he pumps you full. He stays in there too, fucking that milky cum deep, kissing you until the two of you are breathless, dripping, a mess.
"I love home depot," you say all sleepy and cute, Satoru laughs softly, kissing you.
