Work Text:
Life has been serving you with responsibilities and an unnecessary amount of humbleness. Smile became a little more forced, dark circles barely concealed under expensive makeup products you invest in every couple of months. Finding a sense of peace has became a rare occasion, and living in the storm for what feels like eternity made your shoulders drop overtime. Only recently have you found the time to relax. Work has been your priority— missing out on clubs and gatherings became habitual. Your “friends” barely even bother to inform you anymore, already anticipating your apologies and inability to show up.
When the economy became a shit-fest, the company you work under placed a hand in every employees asses. Digging for any and every way to piss whoever they choose off. Especially yours. You’ve always been a hard worker, promoted more times than you can count, but no one could afford too many days off. If anything, it only made them work you even more to the bone. Useless words of encouragement did nothing but make your days worse. “We need you,” they’d say. A tight lipped smile in response barely prevented you from telling them you don’t give a fuck.
Naturally, constant stress and little hours of sleep led to almost no self-care and more take out than necessary. Order food. Shower. Brush teeth. Wash face. Moisturize. That’s all it was. No time to sing and dance in the kitchen while preparing a hearty meal for you and your imaginary husband. The dent in your diet deepened your want to go back to normal and take care of yourself as you used to, but getting more sleep for work overruled.
Whataburger is good and all, but the same ingredients started becoming harder to stomach. The lifestyle you inhabited at first was nauseating, and every day you sworn you’d sink in your lounge chair with cucumbers stacked on top of your lids. Not too long after, it was practically cobwebs on that fantasy. It pulsated in the back of your mind, a sigh only entertaining the thought before the click of your front door echoed in your flat.
Your love life was even sadder. Shoko told you that a little crush makes the brain escape reality with little bursts of day dreaming or whatever. Taking advice from her was a no brainer— it’s hard to second guess her words with a doctorate in psychology. So, you listened. You tried to go on dates, romanticize your a life a little, but every male has only disappointed you. Split bills. Red pill content. Every time you entered your empty home from a terrible picked out restaurant, the desire to explore died a little. After the fifth date, you had enough. Attracting sounded way better than seeking for whatever it was you’re looking for.
Instead, you decided to pick yourself back up. Ever since cooking became more of a chore inside of the schedule you involuntarily built, eating decently turned to eating terribly. Your goal isn’t to resemble Bella Hadid, but the new desire to sit around all day kicked in some motivation to seek for a gym instructor. There’s no denying that abandoning the life you used to live caused for some pounds to stack on the ass trailing behind you. Skinny is something you never been, and that’s not the issue, neither is confidence. The sluggish feeling fast food has given you is just unsettling, and a gym instructor sounded like a reliable and quick fix.
Finding what looked the most enticing wasn’t hard to find. Mixed reviews repelled you a bit at the beginning, but after about an hour of searching, a message confirming a session wth Toji Fushiguro flied across the top of your macbook. His clients seemed to be satisfied, and their feedback was often backed up with images documenting progress. Hm. Smart. Maybe you should do that too. Toji’s profile didn’t share any pictures of who he was. The anonymity was weird, but the $40 had already gone through, and there doesn’t seem to be any complaints.
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The determination to get back on track died once the doors slid closed. Music attempting to lift spirits hummed out of the speakers placed deliberately around the gym. A couple of active bodies walk around the space, machinery shines as if inviting members to try them out. The clock above the check-in area reads 11:30am. Okay you were insanely early. You signed up for 12pm, but the anticipation was a bigger monster to defeat. The lady at the front kindly assisted in stabilizing your stay, and the freedom made your hands clammy. The activewear hugging your curves suddenly felt too revealing, but the items in peripheral moved about anyway. No backing out now.
Your eyes couldn’t help but to dart around as you felt exposed in the Garland pose. Stretching in public felt obscene in uncharted territory. It was your first time in this gym, and the stone cold faces around did anything but soothe the nerves wracking through your body. Walking to one of the treadmills as a warm up, you bump into a semi-hard chest, too wrapped up in your thoughts. The man hardly flinches as he grips your arm to prevent you from facing humiliation too great for both of you to witness. Stammering, he comes into view and the apology you conjured up dissipates.
Black short hair, sharp lidded eyes, narrow but angular nose, and full lips. A scar adorns the side of his mouth, and the slut in you thinks about trailing it with your tongue. He notices where your gaze drops and can’t help but to smirk.
“Careful, doll. We didn’t even get started yet.”
I’m sorry? There’s no way that he’s Toji Fushiguro.
You sputter, eyes practically bulging out of your skull as you take in the wall of muscle standing in front of you. A sexy wall, at that. Behaving yourself doesn’t even feel like something you can do in his presence. He’s literally a walking sex symbol. Sweating between your thighs, you clear your throat before introducing yourself in a less… vulgar manner even if your thoughts persisted on it.
“Toji.”
As if confirming your thoughts, he gives a brief introduction. God, his voice makes any future exercise seem like light work. Just a couple more sentences and you’ll be ready to seize the day. So what you have a knick for attractive voices? His eyes sweep over your figure, heat radiating off of your cheeks at how unapologetic he is about checking you out. Maybe he’s silently assessing what workouts need to be done based on the built you have? As much as you persist in the dismissal, a part of you finds pleasure in his silent praise. His brief recap about who-gives-a-damn only sends you into a hypnosis, the end of his statement not registering to the cogs paused inside of your head. His eyebrow lifts, amusement dancing in the darkness of his pupils.
”Got that?”
”Yep, mhm.”
Toji knows you didn’t hear a word he just said, but that only makes tormenting you easier. He noticed you heading to the treadmill, quickly deterring you in the opposite direction. As he orders you to sit at the leg pressing machine, the crease in your thighs makes him grunt lowly. Taking in the shape of you has been the highlight of his day. As you weren’t looking, he stole a couple of appreciative glances your way. Didn’t matter if you knew or not— it was hard to avoid the way you practically jiggled with every move. You’re plump in all the right places, and the beauty meshed with the slight exertion you wear from trying to keep up with his stride makes his pants a little tighter.
“-too much weight. I’m not doing that.”
Your voice knocks Toji out of his thoughts as he chuckles. Gobsmacked, you stare, cus what the fuck is funny? The awe you held for his looks immediately flies out of the window as you eye the number of pounds he wants you to execute. 160? He must be out of his mind.
”You think this is about what you want to do?”
The bite in his voice makes your brows touch, indignation wiping out the harbored feelings that began to flourish after your daydreaming. Muscles tensing, Toji braces himself for the attitude rolling off of you in waves. Dealing with a smart-mouthed son is enough, and an added addition of a brat is too much for the amount he’s getting paid. Pinched nose and arms crossed, you stare as he eases his oncoming headache, not a drop of sympathy in those pretty little eyes of yours. Murmuring, you turn towards the machine, knees to chest and arms gripping the handlebars as the machine begins to move and work your quads.
This is what you continue to do for the next half hour. Follow him around the gym, nag about him walking too fast, complain about the workouts. Seriously, if it weren’t for you being such a beautiful woman, he would’ve been walked away from your bullshit. It’s obvious you needed him, why else would you pay for a professional to tell you what to do? Unless this is some type of foreplay for you. That wouldn’t be the worst case scenario. You’re definitely a catch— the perfect example of his type. Denying you would be blasphemy. The thought of roleplaying nips in the back of his mind as he barks out orders your way, careful to not mix business and pleasure. Especially because you’re both strangers. Sure, you both became well acquainted after just an hour of knowing each other. The chemistry is undeniable, but it wouldn’t exactly be the wise thing to have sex with a client after one session together. He’s here to do what’s meant to be done and leave you be for the rest of the day. But fuck, you were tempting. His eyes trail the pattern of you. Wide hips, curvy waist, a small pooch at the low of your belly shading the pussy he can’t help but wonder about. He’s curious. Are your walls as stubborn as you? Or will the second heart of you welcome him with open arms?
He can admit, the more you whine the more something in him drives to tame you. A pout on your lips when you don’t get your way, tits pushing up as you cross your arms across your chest. The sight is impossible to absorb without thinking of other things your glossy, full lips can do. Every feature sits so beautifully on your face, he almost thought about removing your membership and making you his upon first sight. Whatever game you’re playing at, it’s working. And he can’t help but to feel perverted at the way his mind wanders to how you’ll oblige under him. This is far from professional, and the bickering only cultivated some type of tension hard to wave off. Your protests failed to deter him. Toji knows he’s a man with thin patience, yes, but it fuels instead of drains the energy he has to put up with you. Maybe it’s the ass.
Your style of interacting with people isn’t normal. You’ve always balanced teasing, bullying, and difficulty with affection. Being sunshine and rainbows all of the time never fails to put a weird twist in your stomach— always describing it as corny. Too much. Of course you’re grateful for Toji’s help and you trust that everything he recommends is for the greater good. But saying thank you over and over? Redundant. Unneeded. Comfortable is how you’d rather feel, so showing your true colors with fingers crossed instead of starting with formalities and fake attitude was the ideal thing in your opinion. In return, he pushed back instead of pulling away— and that excited you. You gained audacity over the minutes that felt like seconds, pushing your luck by becoming authentic and brattier. Seeking for fun is an old habit that doesn’t seem to be dying any time soon.
Your face contorts as your muscles flare up with pain, the arm lateral raises Toji told you to do making you wish the world will swallow you whole on the spot. What’s the point of these anyway? Aren’t you supposed to do cardio or something? Huffing, you drop the weights after the second set, hands resting on your hips before turning towards the gym devil himself. It’s as if he can taste the retort sitting on the tip of your tongue. He leaves no room for you to kick up a fuss, and turns on his heel in the direction of the next task.
“Hey!”
You stumble behind him, a string of insults dancing on the thin line of competency he walks on. You couldn’t find it in you to care, in fact his ability to keep you company is astonishing. Pressing his buttons put a little thrill in you, despite only meeting the man today. His mouth maintained a straight line, obviously not biting the bait dripping out of your mouth, words hooked in an attempt to make him succumb by responding. The resistance weakens the punches you pulled, words dying out as you ponder what he’s thinking of you in this moment. Probably wringing you out like a towel mentally. Silence followed as you continued to walk, eyes moving from his face to the front of your path, hoping and praying he isn’t about to kick you out. Maybe you took it too far?
You find yourselves in a private stretching room. The temperature is slightly warmer, room enclosed and tucked away from any peering eyes. Sweat almost immediately clings to your back, eyes rolling in exasperation at the sticky feeling. Stability balls, yoga mats, kettlebells, resistance bands, and pull up bars scatter around decoratively, a pop of color bringing a comfortable feeling in the environment. Humming appreciatively, you nod. Plain spaces with nothing standing out feels like being in a padded white room inside of a mental asylum. Toji picks up a mat and tosses it to your feet. The sound of fabric hitting polyvinyl chloride bounces off the cream colored walls. Pointing at the ground, his eyes dart in expectation, lips puckering as he blows a breath from the room only continuing to close in with heat.
“Sit. Spread your legs and lean forward.”
Gulping, you glance up at his face only to be met with a leveled stare. Alright then. The way he speaks now is different. It isn’t his first time ordering you around— much to your (false) dismay— but the more you observe the speck in that pool of hazel you found yourself favoriting, the more unnerved you become. Your cleavage hangs dangerously low as your palms brush over ankle, skin smooth with a thin shine of sweat from Toji driving you to your limits early afternoon. Feeling hands on your back, white hot pain flashes through your hamstrings as he pushes, hips wiggling instinctively to escape from his grasp.
”What the fuck?!”
Yelling did nothing but make him push a tad bit further, a groan pulled from the depths of your vocal cords as the stretch makes your ears ring. When did he even move from in front of you?! Stuck in this position, you can only count down the amount of time he puts you through hell. The heat didn’t make this any better— you felt like slop. Dying is so much easier than this, and in this moment, you couldn’t avoid wishing such a fate upon yourself. Eventually, he lifts and you immediately spring up, hands instinctively lowering to soothe the burn between your thighs.
“I swear to God-“
He cuts you off.
”You swear to God, what?”
He chuckles, the sound strained as he runs a hand through his slightly damp hair.
”Gotta tell you, pretty, you’ve been driving me insane.”
Hearing his words made your lips snap shut, teeth clacking awkwardly from the force. Reality gave you a harder hit, face dropping at his confession. So you were doing too much, great. You made a move to get up and leave, his next sentence making your pulse quicken.
”Got an attitude that needs to be fixed.”
That made you turn. Brain wracking and eyes roaming, you step forward, careful in reading his expression as if it’ll crumble under acknowledgment. You were still uneasy, convinced that you officially pissed him clean the fuck off, but possibly not in the way you assumed. Raising a brow, the words tumble out before you could catch and scramble them.
”So? What are you going to do about it?”
Upon closer inspection, you notice the color in his eyes carrying a darker hue than before. It’s eerie and… strangely attractive. Staring down at you. Posture taut as if waiting for something. The sight is animalistic and a chill runs through you, despite the vent emitting nothing but lava in gas form.
”What will you allow me to do?”
Standing toe to toe now, you can’t help but to take in how massive he is in comparison to you. Broad shoulders, biceps bigger than half of the dumbbells on the outside rooms, pecs rectangular and thick. Sheer muscle stretches across his body, the compression shirt he wears seemingly seconds away from ripping off of his body from the strain. You were drooling now, almost forgetting about his suggestive tone bouncing around in that reckless head of yours.
”Depends. Are you thinking about killing me?”
His features contort into a smile, eyes slightly squinted as his canines seem to glint under the fluorescent lights buzzing in the ceiling. Primal. Unyielding. Insane. Your breath stutters, the energy completely shifting around him into something far more dangerous than you anticipated. You swore you were hallucinating, eyes locked on the way it seems his teeth sharpened, mouth preparing and shifting into an appropriate form to devour you whole.
”You believe cats have nine lives?”
In any other case, the joke would make you double over in laughter. Now, you’re frozen. Interest skyrocketing and brain short circuiting, your mouth opens and closes, silence stretching as you try (and fail) to say something as extricate. Choosing to skip the viability of looking like an idiot, you step closer, hand reaching out to caress the center of his chest. Your finger tips skim over the material of his shirt, stiletto nails resembling little needle pricks as you drag down with intention. He grips your wrist, a gasp escaping from you as he shakes his head, hair falling in front of his eyes as green meets surprised, blown pupils.
”Use your words. The whole point of you being here is to work towards what you want, right?”
Despite circumstances, your irises disappear as they roll back. His smugness makes irritation claw at your throat, but the desire bubbling under your fiery surface is impossible to ignore. Lips pursed, you contemplate putting up a fight, the thought of how good he could make you feel sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. Setting your pettiness aside, you bask in the warmth flooding through you, the annoying—but natural—tendency to knuckle under overshadowing the satisfaction of bantering.
”Fix my attitude, then.”
He can taste the sweetness of your defense crumbling, tongue darting out in a silent demand for more of your submission. The four syllables you utter so seductively hits him square in the chest, heart skipping a beat. Wasting no time, he dives in, hand closing around your throat as he brutally slides his mouth across your molars. Squeaking in surprise, you retaliate, palms immediately presuming what you previously started. Abs is all you feel as your delicate fingers slide under his shirt, his breath hitching in tandem with the slow, ardent filled kiss. You stalk backwards as he walks with a purpose of commanding your existence, steps slow and deliberate, careful to avoid damage once your back hits the wall.
His pink, supple lips travel south, flesh tingling with each peck leaving a wet trail mixing with the thin layer of sweat. You didn’t even notice when his fingers hooked onto the edges of your jumpsuit, skin glistening under the overhead lights as the removal of fabric exposes all that you are. Your hips buck as his hair tickles your abdomen, the grip on your waist tightening in a small warning of being patient. It was hard to pretend as if nerves weren’t gnawing at you. Perspiration has been clinging to you for the last thirty minutes, body no longer as fresh as you would like it to be in these circumstances. All worries ease as he sits on his knees, tongue pressing against your clothed cunt, the thin layer of cotton panties obscuring the ability to feel the moisture clinging onto the wet muscle.
He hums as if completely enamored by the outline of your folds, the sensation appearing to amount to every fantasy he’s thought about up until this moment. Your whines fall on deaf ears as he continues, arousal apparent in the way the colors of your undergarment darken, dampening with slick. His grin is unmistakeable, pride inflating as he enjoys the sight of you falling apart when he hasn’t really done much to rile you up. Rough knuckles meet your bare thighs as he pulls on the fragile material, lines of honey leaving a defenseless trail as if your pussy can’t bare the departure.
”All this for me?”
The flattery comes out husky. Arrogant. Condescending. You can feel the slut shame underneath the bass of his voice as his breath remains inches away from granting you a lick of bliss. He pockets your underwear, choosing to remind himself later that this actually happened. He also can’t get enough of your scent, pheromones working overtime to turn him into a crazed man. With a long, languid lick, his lips smack together to seal the kiss, wetness bubbling into a salacious sound bouncing between your heated bodies. Your legs shook, wall turning into ice as an arch forms into the dip of your back. He’s doing this on purpose. Examining the intricacies of your nectar filled petal, tongue darting out tentatively to test the waters of how high you can get. Once he finds that pruny little button twitching in delight at being discovered, your hands fly to his shoulders, a moan coaxed out of you from the way he feeds on you savagely.
It’s hardly believable on how he dedicates every action into building you up only to break you down. From unrelenting tongue flicks to slow, torturous circles of his tongue, the objects around you blurs as the only thought of cumming swirls through your mind. Violently shaking, your legs doesn’t get the chance to collapse, strong calloused hands holding you perfectly above him and against the wall. You couldn’t go anywhere, body officially under his control, no where to run. His slurps only get louder, stomach convulsing with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs. You didn’t care how much your jumbled sentences bounced off of the walls— the pleasure was more than enough to have you blabbing about for absolutely no one to understand.
Your sounds only became hysterical as he plunges his taste bulb inside of you, the intrusion met with fluttering walls. Toji wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The tugs on his scalp sends him deeper, nose brushing on your clit as he swirls and wiggles around as if searching for something. You’re intoxicating. A minx. Your pussy was brattier than you, squeezing and demanding more of his attention as if she has a mind of her own. He would rather have you like this— incomprehensible and compliant so he wouldn’t have to listen to any more unneeded opinions directed his way. The swollenness of his muscle makes your hips stutter, eyes bulging in surprise, and he laughs against you. The vibrations heightens your impending release, breaths shaky and uncontrolled as you lose yourself in the tight coils snapping down to your abdomen.
“Fuck, Toji, I’m gonna-“
He retracts from your sex, the look on your face reflecting grief at the loss of euphoria. Utterly wrecked, your eyes water, the knot inside of your stomach settling heavily against your pelvis. He didn’t give a fuck— his eyes shine with mirth in the way you pleaded silently, saved from the wobbling lip and little whimpers. Where was all of that bite now? He couldn’t resist reveling at the sight of you disheveled and talking up at him with enough conviction to make anyone else do exactly what you desire. Not him. He’s on his knees and still dominates you— it’s almost pathetic how you stare at him as if he ran over your childhood puppy.
“Get on the mat.”
His tone has you scurrying on shaky legs, body colliding with foam instantly before he travels between your legs. You were so caught up in your own destruction, you failed to notice the huge bulge in his sweats. It’s as if his pants became a couple sizes smaller, the print hard to miss at the way grey fabric carves out the thickness of his cock. Your eyes couldn’t move, mouth parting unbashfully as it twitches under your scrutiny. Saliva coated the curves of your mouth, questions of how he tastes like making it to the front of your mind. Green meets your gaze and so does pride, smirk big and bright as he studies the way you ogle at his third leg. Putting on a show for those begging, hazy pupils, he drags a hand down his now wrinkled shirt, thumb shooing the fabric away to where his happy trail is visible. Practically drooling, your cunt clenches as his boxers and sweats dip tantalizingly low, a gulp gliding down your throat as his cock springs free.
Thick, veiny, and perfect. Beads of pearl glides down the base of his tanned shaft, foreskin holding a ring of diluted sugar at the frenum. He’s no less than nine inches, his size almost comparable to your calves sitting jittery around his quads. So close but yet so far— fireworks ready to be ignited sits on your taste buds, jaws gathering moisture as an attempt to satiate the hunger settled deep in your bones. He takes in your appearance, the glimmer in your eyes bewitching, especially because it’s all for him.
”Come on, mama. Have a taste.”
He purrs, the sound guttural as he bathes in the admiration. You perk up, knees bruising as you become face to face with the monster soon to be inside of you. Spit connects from your top to your bottom lip as your mouth parts, tongue hanging out desperately before a tinge of salt touches the muscle outside of your teeth. You pant, unconfined in the way his hand comes up to stroke the messy hair on your head, completely content with being under his spell. His petting only makes your licks hurried, greed fueling every flick sent to the cock pulsing in your care. You widen the sides of your mouth, lips stretching in preparation of taking him whole, but he places a hand on your chest. A pout instantly forms, head snapping up to meet the lazy smirk settled upon his dark features.
”Tired of waiting.”
You could barely register his mumble before you’re on your back, one leg extended to the ceiling as the other leg lays flat on the stretching mat.
”Consider this the after stretch of your workout, yeah?”
He grips his shaft shining with your spit before pumping into you, eyes drinking in the expansion of your entrance. You mewl, hands flailing in a craze search of something to hold onto. Still easing into your essence, his back bows as he leans forward, mouth latching onto one of your nipples. His teeth rake over the pebbled skin, catching right on the end before tugging until your tit straightens. The reaction comes almost immediately, top half lifting briefly off of the foam yoga mat as his hips moves sultrily against your folds, wetness replicating aloe in the way you pool around his cock. Soothing his previous attack, his tongue swirls around the chestnut before moving onto your other breast. It takes an immense amount of restraint to not completely sink into you. Toji knows he’s cumbersome in length and size— your shaking body was proof of that. But the way your pussy sucks him in so well, he could already assume she was ready for all he can give.
Bottoming out, he waits, observing the way your brows tick and unravel to perfectly arch back into place. Breath still uneven, your lids lift, that same glassy look in your eye from earlier appearing tenfold at the fullness of your uterus. Watching carefully, he pulls out and sinks back in, a crude smile forming at the way your mouth parts in offering of your soul for his to take. Cries and smacks of skin lewdly announces your sin and audacity, the location of you two completely forgotten as you satisfy your flesh. His hips snap feverishly, hands at the sides of your head as he scoots and leans forward. The stretch from his dick and position drives you mad, volume increasing as praises dim to nothing but hails, words dying on your tongue. Your knee digs into the top of your shoulder, the discomfort going unrecognized as the vein on the underside of his cock drags up and down your walls rhythmically.
“F-fuck ‘m so full.”
Smack.
“So good.”
Smack.
“D-don’t stop, please.”
Smack.
Your exclaims come out chopped and screwed, the brute force and speed of his thrusts cutting off syllables and turning demands to whines. This is something you would only fantasize about— no man has made you feel as delighted as this. Each buck of his hips turned you drunk, an addiction clawing up your back as your nails raked his. No longer present, you succumb completely as your body became jelly under him. Just open, vulnerable, and needy with no coherent thoughts. Just Toji Toji Toji.
He groans when you clench around him, broken sobs tumbling deliciously from your lips as you become completely fucked out. He’s ecstatic at the way you lay bare, eyes sweeping graciously over your worn out state. He captures a sliver of your attention through a kiss, loving the way your tongue moves absentmindedly, mind beyond ruined as the kiss became teeth and spit. He looks down, the imprint he’s forming in you evident in the sight of his dick introducing itself to your guts. It was disgusting the way he fucked you— growls tickling your ear as you responded through cracked moans. Laughing disrespectfully at how you quiver when you were just a pompous brat. Tongue licking at your tears, he can hardly stop himself as he abuses your pussy until it moulds for his dick and his dick only. He’s selfish in how he praises and affirms in your ear with your poor, easy subconscious completely accessible for him to manipulate.
”You needed this, huh?”
”Such a slut, your pussy was made for me to use.”
It wasn’t hard to believe him, he was fucking you as if he already owned you. His hand reaches to the fat of your ass, grip vice as he tilts your pelvis so he can poke at that spongy spot he yearns to touch. Soon as you feel it, you screech, g-spot sitting prettily inside of you as if waiting to be tortured by his relentless, primal shoving. He’s digging into your system, senses only full of him as he infiltrates your womb. Face damp with sweat and tears, the color of your irises disappear behind your lids as they roll. You’re close, and the sensation is intemperate. You wanted to warn him. You really did. Blood rushes through your ears as you gush, a foreign sound shredding your vocal chords as you release all on his and your stomach.
Water encases his dick as his strokes fail to falter, your protest anything but effective as you push weakly at his chest. He’s not gonna last— you melted around him after squirting and the squelches became even more pornographic than before. It was music to his ears.
“Wanna have my babies, doll?”
His thrusts die down to a few pumps, the weak nod of your head barely intelligible through your sporadic movement and overstimulated whimpers. He chuckles hoarsely, muscles twitching and burning from exertion as he pumps sloppily before releasing his seed into you with a relieved groan. Warmth blossoms in your austral, his semen already swimming through you and making itself home. Breaths shaky and body sticky, he stills with his cock still inside of your swollen walls, careful to not let any of his cum seep out of you. He wants every inch of you to remember how he feels. He’s sure he left a good impression, but the possessiveness in him was the cherry on top.
Sliding out of you, both of your spines jolt at the lost, the goosebumps forming along both of your arms far from a coincidence. Whatever this was… moved both of you. And you’re 100 percent sure this wouldn’t be the last time. Putting your clothes back on felt filthy, a shower more than a dire need right now. The outfit felt different and suddenly too tight due to sweat and fatigue. It makes you sick. He helps you up, your legs failing to move on their own as he holds you steady at the waist.
“Want me to drive you home?”
He offers, smile in place as you glare at the fact that you’re temporarily disabled from his ferocious actions.
”It’s the least you could do.”
Your voice is hoarse and damaged, the sound making you cringe. He laughs and you hit his arm, eventually yelping once he lifts you and carries you on one arm. Shock runs through you at no sign of struggle. How much does he lift?! Grabbing both of your things, he shoulders the swinging doors at the nearest exit, grin boyish as he is soon to discover what your residence looks like.
You have to tell Shoko about your new crush.