Work Text:
your first day at the gym felt a little like the first day of school — except instead of a backpack full of supplies, you had a duffel bag stuffed with coordinated athleisure and just a tiny bit of misplaced confidence.
toji fushiguro . the name echoed in your head like a mantra, which was completely coincidental and not at all the result of a quick late-night “ gym instructor thirst trap ” google search. nope, not at all.
as you walked in, the gym smelled of disinfectant and... testosterone ? was that what testosterone smelled like? you weren’t sure, but it had a distinct, musky gym-bro-y vibe. before you could question your life choices, a deep, gravelly voice boomed over the general clatter of weights and treadmills.
“alright, rookies! welcome to hot girl summer bootcamp. i’m your instructor, toji. keep up, and you’ll love me. fall behind...and you’ll still love me, just a little less. maybe. let’s go!”
oh.
my.
god.
this man wasn’t just hot. he was illegal . broad shoulders that could probably carry a family of four, a scar on his lips that somehow made him hotter, and those arms — did the gym air conditioning suddenly malfunction, or were you overheating just looking at him?
play it cool, you thought, adjusting your cropped tank top and hoping you looked effortlessly sporty rather than like someone who stayed up all night watching his gym tutorials on youtube.
“you, newbie,” toji pointed in your direction, his sharp green eyes locking onto yours. “what’s your goal for the program?”
your brain short-circuited. goal? what goal?
“uh, uh...i want to — uh… ” you stammered, your mouth suddenly drier than a protein shake with no milk. “be able to...carry all my groceries in one trip?” nailed it.
he raised an eyebrow, smirking as if you were the funniest thing he’d heard all morning. “realistic. i respect that.”
as he moved on to interrogate another poor soul about their fitness dreams, you caught yourself staring at the way his tank top clung to his chest. focus! focus! groceries!
the first warm-up nearly killed you.
it wasn’t even anything extreme — just high knees and jumping jacks — but you were convinced your spirit left your body halfway through. toji, however, didn’t seem to notice your imminent demise.
“c’mon, grocery girl ,” he teased, jogging over to you during a plank hold. “don’t tap out on me already. what’s that, two minutes?”
two minutes felt like two hours.
“easy for you to say,” you panted, glaring at him. “you look like you eat kettlebells for breakfast.”
toji crouched beside you, his smirk growing wider. “nah, i eat waffles. protein ones. maybe i’ll make you some when you hit your first milestone.”
oh, so you’re a malewife too? just take me now.
you managed to survive the rest of the class, though it involved more wheezing than you’d like to admit. as you grabbed your water bottle, toji sauntered past, giving you a casual, devastating grin.
“good hustle, grocery girl,” he said. “see you tomorrow?”
you nodded, cheeks flaming. “yeah, tomorrow,” you replied, already dreading the soreness that was about to hit you in waves.
walking out of the gym, you made a mental note:
- stop chanting his name during your nightly activities, because that would definitely get weird if you slipped up in class.
- figure out how to be normal around the human equivalent of a greek god.
spoiler alert : you wouldn’t succeed.
— ☆
toji leaned against the front desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he eyed satoru, who was fiddling with his phone instead of paying attention to literally anything else. typical.
"seriously, satoru," toji grumbled, his voice a low growl. "five grand for this program? five? you think these rookies deserve me for that price? do you know how many squats i had to watch today? squats, done wrong. "
"aw, c’mon, toji," satoru drawled, not even looking up. "think of it as community service. you're making the world hotter one newbie at a time." he flicked his snow-white bangs out of his annoyingly perfect face.
"besides, you love attention. what are you complaining about?"
toji's scowl deepened. "attention doesn't pay my rent , dipshit. if i wanted praise, i'd do push-ups on the street. and don't call this ‘ community service .’ i ain't some saint."
satoru grinned, finally setting his phone down. "you're just mad because you can't charge extra for... specialized instruction." his grin turned wicked. "you know, one-on-one, intense focus...maybe a hand here, a hand there."
"you're disgusting," toji deadpanned, though he didn’t bother denying the accusation.
"but i'm not wrong," satoru shot back, leaning on his elbows. " soooo? any student caught your eye yet? some sweaty rookie got your heart racing?"
toji huffed, his lip curling into a smirk. "isn’t it obvious?"
satoru blinked, genuinely curious. "wait, for real? who? the one in the neon pink outfit? or the guy with the weight belt who clearly didn’t need it?"
toji ignored the question, grabbing his water bottle from the counter. "none of your business, dipshit. but let’s just say someone’s got a long way to go before they’re carrying groceries in one trip."
“ groceries? ” satoru cackled, almost doubling over. “oh, man. you really know how to pick ‘em, huh? let me guess, rookie can’t plank for more than thirty seconds without praying for salvation?”
toji’s smirk widened just a fraction, and he turned toward the gym floor. "thirty seconds? generous. more like twenty. but... they've got potential."
“potential or a cute face?” satoru called after him, earning himself the bird as toji disappeared into the weight room.
satoru shook his head, still chuckling. “toji, you greedy bastard. just don’t make it weird, yeah?”
as if that was possible.
— ☆
day three, and your thighs felt like they’d been personally cursed by the devil himself. you were convinced that even sitting down was a workout at this point.
but toji? toji looked fresher than a damn protein shake commercial — biceps bulging, sweat glistening, and his sharp green eyes scanning the room like a predator hunting his next meal.
and maybe, just maybe, you were on the menu.
you caught him staring again. or maybe that was just wishful thinking? nah. those weren’t just glances — they were slow, deliberate, and paired with that cocky little smirk that said he knew. knew you were stealing glances at him every time he turned his back. knew you were biting your lip and adjusting your shorts every time he got too close.
“grocery girl!” his voice cut through your haze, and you nearly tripped over your own feet.
“ y-yeah? ” you stammered, clutching your water bottle like it was a lifeline.
“plank position,” he ordered, stalking toward you with a towel slung over his shoulder. “let’s see if you’ve improved since day one.”
improved? babe, i can’t even look at my floor without flashbacks to this torture.
still, you dropped down, doing your best to hold the position without trembling too much. but then he crouched next to you — close enough that you could smell the clean, heady scent of his sweat — and suddenly, holding anything became a challenge.
“hips down,” he murmured, his voice low, and your brain went static.
before you could process it, his hand was on your lower back, pressing gently to correct your form. “like this. don’t cheat yourself.”
cheat myself? i’m about to cheat on my sanity if you don’t move that hand.
“you good?” he asked, his tone dipping into something almost teasing.
“ uh-huh ,” you croaked, feeling the tremble in your arms spread to every inch of your body.
“ya sure?” he leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear. “y’er shakin’ like a leaf.”
if you weren’t so oxygen-deprived, you might’ve said something snarky. instead, you clenched your jaw, determined not to crumble under his gaze — or the weight of his stupidly attractive hand.
“good girl,” he finally said, pulling back.
your entire body locked up.
did. he. just.
“keep it up,” he added casually, walking off like he hadn’t just detonated a dirty bomb in your brain.
you managed to hold the plank for another ten seconds before collapsing into a heap, thighs burning and mind spinning.
grocery girl? more like gone girl.
but as you left the gym that night, legs wobbling and sanity in tatters, you couldn’t stop replaying his words.
maybe next time, you wouldn’t just be locking in groceries. maybe you’d be swinging something a little more... muscular .
— ☆
you burst into the gym like a bat out of hell, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, cheeks flushed, and already out of breath — and you hadn’t even started the workout yet.
the weeknd’s smooth, sultry vocals blared from the speakers, which only made the scene more ridiculous. this wasn’t exactly the kind of music that screamed “fitness bootcamp.” but then again, satoru — ever the chaotic piece of shit — was in charge of the playlist. because why not let the white-haired menace control everything?
“late again,” toji’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and low, cutting right into your frazzled panic.
you froze mid-sprint, your brain short-circuiting as you turned toward him. he was standing at the front of the gym, arms crossed, one brow raised in a perfect arch of judgment.
“got caught up,” you said, lamely holding up your water bottle like it explained anything.
toji didn’t budge. he didn’t even blink. instead, his eyes dragged over you slowly, assessing. it wasn’t the fun kind of eyeing-up you hoped for; it was the “how much time are you about to waste ” look.
“class started fifteen minutes ago,” he said, his tone laced with that signature mix of annoyance and condescension that had you wanting to melt into the floor.
“yeah, well, blame the playlist,” you blurted, motioning toward the speakers. “you ever try running on time to ‘earned it?’ ”
the corner of toji’s mouth twitched, but he quickly covered it by rubbing the back of his neck. “don’t try blaming satoru for your inability to read a clock.”
you swallowed, your cheeks heating up even more. “i’ll make it up, promise!”
toji snorted, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “oh, you’ll make it up alright.”
you blinked. “huh?”
“stay after class,” he said simply, his gaze locking onto yours. “you can finish the session one-on-one. wouldn’t want you wasting that bargain-bin fee you paid for this ‘ hot girl summer ’ thing.”
your jaw nearly hit the floor. stay back? alone? with toji?
your brain immediately jumped into overdrive, filling in all the blanks with...decidedly non-fitness-related scenarios .
“uh, sure ,” you managed to squeak, your voice somehow two octaves higher than normal.
“good,” he said, already turning away. “get moving, grocery girl. we’re doing circuits today.”
as you stumbled to the nearest mat, still reeling from the interaction, satoru leaned out from behind the front desk, earbuds dangling.
“one-on-one, huh?” he sing-songed, loud enough for you to hear over the weeknd’s crooning. “careful, rookie. toji’s not great with boundaries. ”
toji flipped him the bird without even looking back, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing — or screaming .
you didn’t know whether to be mortified or excited, but one thing was certain: this program was about to get a whole lot more interesting.
toji leaned against the squat rack, arms folded over his chest, watching you with a smirk that had trouble written all over it. sure, he didn’t care who rolled into class late — hell, he didn’t even care if they showed up. paycheck was a paycheck. but you? oh, you were special.
watching you stumble in all flustered and breathless, making excuses about playlists and time management? priceless .
now, you were sprawled out on the bench, your brows furrowed in determination as you pushed up a whole ten kilograms like it was the weight of the world. your form was... passable , at best.
“careful there, champ,” toji drawled, stepping closer. “don’t wanna overdo it. wouldn’t want you pulling a muscle with that massive load . ”
you shot him a glare, though the pink creeping up your neck betrayed your attempt at nonchalance. “’s fine. i’ve got this.”
toji crouched down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees as he tilted his head, studying your face. “uh-huh. ya sure? y’er arms shakin’ like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm.”
“they’re not !” you protested, though your voice wobbled a little.
“ mhmm ,” he hummed, leaning in just enough to make your pulse spike. “y’er breathin’ all wrong too. gotta pace yourself. in through your nose, out through your mouth. like this .”
before you could argue, he demonstrated, exhaling slow and deliberate, his lips quirking into a smirk when your eyes flicked to them.
“got it?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
you nodded quickly, your grip on the bar tightening as you tried to focus.
“good,” he said, standing up and moving behind the bench. “because i’m upping the weight.”
“what — wait! ” you yelped, nearly dropping the bar as he added an extra plate to each side.
“ relaaxx , grocery girl,” toji said, his smirk widening. “y’er stronger than ya think. or is it all talk?”
your jaw dropped. “i’m not all talk!”
“ prove it .”
you gritted your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of backing down. with a deep breath, you pushed up the bar again, your muscles screaming in protest.
“ there you go,” toji said, his voice annoyingly calm. “ juusst like that. keep goin’. you wanna make it to after-class, don’t you?”
you nearly dropped the bar. “ excuse me?!”
toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you heard me. gotta be in top shape for... extra training . wouldn’t wanna disappoint, would you?”
you sat up, face burning, and watched him walk away, his broad shoulders and infuriating smirk seared into your brain.
what the hell had you signed up for?
— ☆
toji cursed under his breath, leaning on the counter at the front desk where satoru was spinning a pen between his fingers like he had nothing better to do.
“the hell are you even doing here?” toji grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’re not even working today.”
“who says ‘m not working?” satoru chirped, not bothering to look up. “i’m in charge of morale. and you look like you could use some.”
toji rolled his eyes. “whatever. just... ya got a condom or what?”
that got satoru’s attention. the pen stilled, and his blue eyes flicked up, wide with mock surprise. “ toji fushiguro asking me for protection? man, didn’t think i’d live to see the day!”
“ shut the hell up ,” toji growled, looking around like the floor might swallow him whole.
“relax, big guy,” satoru teased, standing up and fishing through his gym bag. “why do you need one anyway? didn’t know you were into ‘safe sets.’”
toji’s eye twitched. “just hand it over.”
“ohhh,” satoru grinned, pulling out a foil packet and dangling it between two fingers. “don’t tell me this is for grocery girl? you finally gonna ask her if she’s dtf? ”
toji swiped the condom out of his hand, shoving it in his pocket. “shut up, and dtf doesn’t mean what you think it does.”
“doesn’t it?” satoru grinned, leaning on the counter. “down to flexibility? full-body workout? man, she’s been killing those planks lately. bet she could handle it.”
toji muttered something incomprehensible, walking away before he could throttle the smug bastard.
back in the gym, you were finishing your last set, your face flushed and sweat dripping down your temple. despite the tremble in your arms, you racked the weights with a triumphant sigh.
“better late than never,” toji said, his voice low and smug as he appeared beside you.
“jesus, do you ever not sneak up on people?” you snapped, though your smile betrayed the irritation.
“you survived,” he said, ignoring your jab and eyeing you with a mix of approval and something darker. “good. now you ready for your after-class session?”
you blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “after-class? i thought we were done.”
toji smirked, leaning in just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “oh, we’re just getting started.”
his eyes flicked over you, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.
“now let’s see how flexible you really are,” he murmured, straightening up and motioning for you to follow him.
your heart pounded as you trailed behind him, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips.
maybe satoru wasn’t entirely wrong about the full-body workout after all.
— ☆
you may have looked like the epitome of gym-girl confidence on the outside, with your matching hot pink spandex set, a perfectly executed high ponytail, and that “accidental” giggle whenever toji smirked your way, but inside? absolute chaos. a full-blown mental spiral.
did you stink? like...bad enough to ruin the vibe? gym sweat wasn’t exactly the kind that screamed sexy glisten . and no, BO unfortunately didn’t stand for bend over — though give it a few minutes and maybe that could change. if you played your cards right.
was your hair still in place? you couldn’t even check without making it obvious. sure, it felt secure, but your elastic had seen things today, and who’s to say it wasn’t moments away from snapping like your sanity?
and your lips — oh god , your lips. you’d spent twenty minutes on that routine before leaving the house, crafting the kind of pout that was supposed to say “effortlessly kissable.” the process itself had been more intensive than a skincare regime, involving a lineup of:
- a honey sugar scrub (scrub, rinse, repeat),
- a hydrating lip mask (because you weren’t about to let crust ruin the vibe),
- a peach-toned lip liner to enhance the shape (read: fake plumpness),
- a glossy pink-tinted balm for the natural flush, and
- a strategically placed clear gloss dab right at the center for that “i’m dewy and so is my life” illusion.
now? that careful work had probably melted into oblivion, and you were too chicken to check in case it looked like you’d been eating barbecue wings during your bench presses.
but there was no time to worry about any of that now. because toji — yes, your gym instructor toji — had waved you into the locker room with one of those stupidly smug smirks, the kind that promised trouble.
and now here you were, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty space, his broad frame taking up way too much room as he leaned against the lockers, arms crossed.
“ so ,” he drawled, his deep voice practically dripping with amusement, “you gonna stand there all day, or did you actually wanna get to the...extra training?”
you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry despite your meticulous hydration schedule all day. “oh, um , yeah. totally. i’m ready.”
toji arched a brow, taking a slow step toward you. “you sure? because you look a little... distracted .”
“i’m not distracted!” you blurted, louder than intended. “i’m just... focused .”
he chuckled, low and gravelly, closing the space between you in two strides. “focused, huh?” his gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your knees wobble.
“then prove it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “show me just how much you’ve been paying attention.”
your breath hitched as he leaned in, his hand coming to rest on the locker beside your head.
mental checklist? forgotten . lip gloss? nonexistent . your name? who even knows .
but whatever was about to happen, you were damn sure it was about to be worth it.
— ☆
toji had this all planned out — or so he thought.
he was supposed to be the cool, non-chalant one here, the collected gym instructor with the alpha energy. though just thinking that phrase made him grimace. alpha energy ?
yikes. he’d rather drop his dumbbells on his own feet than lean into that nonsense.
but still, he had a role to play, didn’t he? lead the charge, keep it professional until it wasn’t. you know, manly things. hot-gym-instructor-guy things.
except now, as he leaned casually (or so he hoped) against the locker, one arm propped above your head, his brain was running through a thousand different scenarios, none of which involved him being the one to lose his cool first.
toji couldn’t help it though — he was sweating . not just the faint gym sheen kind of sweat, but the sweating bullets kind, the kind that made him worried he’d be the one stinking up the confined space of the locker room. which, really, was the last thing he needed when he was trying to exude effortless charm.
he opened his mouth, ready to play it smooth. “so, you —”
and then your lips were on his, crashing into him with so much urgency it almost made him stumble.
oh. okay then.
toji froze for half a second — half a heartbeat — before the message clicked loud and clear in his brain. whatever he thought he was going to say, whatever stupid quip he had lined up, melted into nothing as he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer like the damn door to the locker room was about to disappear and leave you stranded.
you tasted faintly like strawberries, probably from whatever overpriced lip product you’d slathered on before this, and toji had to suppress the urge to groan. the kind of groan that might make you think he was more desperate than he wanted to admit. but the way your hands fisted in his tank top, tugging him even closer, made him reconsider — maybe desperation wasn’t so bad.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, your lips flushed and eyes wide, and gave a low chuckle that felt more confident than he actually was in the moment. “ well ,” he drawled, his voice rougher than he intended, “guess we’re skipping the warm-up.”
you rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched as his hand slid down to your waist. “don’t act like you weren’t waiting for it.”
toji smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “message received, loud and clear , sweetheart.”
he might’ve thought he was supposed to be in charge, but hell , he wasn’t complaining about this turn of events.
“now let’s see if you’ve been keeping up with your endurance training,” he murmured, his voice teasing, but his grip on your hips told you he was already taking this challenge seriously.
training? oh , the session was just getting started.
— ☆
you thought you had an idea. you’d done your research, watched enough videos of the kind of stuff that should’ve prepped you for moments like this. but this ? this was an entirely new level of freaky, toe-curling , brain-melting insanity.
toji had a system, a stupidly cruel system that you were 90% sure he cooked up just to mess with you. it was simple: he’d trace a muscle on your body, one agonizingly slow swipe of his rough fingertips at a time, and if you guessed the name of it right? well, you’d cum that many times.
easy, right? wrong. so wrong.
especially because right now, this cocky little shit had your gym spandex yanked down to your thighs, your ass perched high in the air, and was treating this whole situation like it was a damn trivia segment on who wants to be a millionaire. except the prize wasn’t cash — it was a full-blown ride to pound-town .
“alright, genius ,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed over the curve of your shoulder, down to your upper arm. “name this muscle.”
you froze, your breath hitching as the cool air brushed against your heated skin. “ uh — uh , the...deltoid?” you stammered, hoping the few snippets of your high school bio class would come in clutch.
toji snorted, clearly unimpressed. “correct. guess you do pay attention sometimes.”
the next second, he was gripping your hip, his free hand sliding between your thighs in a way that made your brain short-circuit.
oh.
“‘s one,” he muttered against your ear, low and teasing. “don’t get cocky yet, though. we’ve barely started.”
you barely had time to catch your breath before his hand trailed lower, stopping just above your thigh. “now,” he continued, his tone infuriatingly calm for a man currently wrecking your ability to think straight, “what’s this one called?”
you blinked, frantically rummaging through the dark corners of your mind for an answer. shit, what was it? quad? hamstring? quad-something?
“uh... quadricep ?” you ventured, your voice shaking.
toji hummed, the sound vibrating against your skin. “good girl. maybe there’s hope for you after all.”
then he moved. his hand, his lips, the sheer weight of him — every part of him was suddenly everywhere at once, dragging you so close you could barely breathe.
and just when you thought you might lose it, he leaned back, smirking like the devil himself.
“next question,” he said, his fingers brushing over the curve of your back. “get it wrong, and we start all over again. think you can handle that, doll?”
you groaned, face buried in your arms. “‘s isn’t fair,” you muttered.
toji chuckled, dark and low. “oh, sweetheart , life isn’t fair. but this?” his grip tightened, his breath warm against your ear. “this is me being generous.”
generous? you’d show him generous. if you didn’t pass out first.
— ☆
“well, well,” toji murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he trailed his lips down your spine, his rough palms kneading the soft curve of your hips. “looks like someone paid attention in class after all. didn’t think you’d actually pass my lil’ quiz, but here we are.”
you should’ve felt victorious, proud even. but all you could focus on was the heat pooling between your thighs and the way his voice dipped into that gravelly tone, each word laced with promise.
“so here’s the reward,” he drawled, sliding a hand beneath you to spread your thighs just a little wider. “two orgasms. back to back. think you can keep up, sweetheart?”
you shuddered, biting down hard on your lip to stop the whimper threatening to spill out.
toji smirked, watching you squirm under him. “oh no, no . don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his fingers dragging along your slick folds, collecting the evidence of just how desperate you were. “your little cunt’s doin’ all the talkin’ for ya anyway. she’s real chatty tonight, huh?”
you buried your face in your arms, heat blooming across your cheeks as the filthy squelch echoed in the confined space of the locker room.
“ awww , embarrassed?” he chuckled darkly, pressing two fingers into you without warning. “don’t be. she’s got a lot to say, and trust me, ‘m alll ears.”
you gasped, clamping a hand over your mouth as he started a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling his fingers just right.
“ ah-ah ,” toji chided, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the locker above your head. “none of that. i said quiet, but not that quiet. lemme hear you, baby.”
you whimpered, hips bucking against his hand as his pace quickened, his free hand gripping your ass to keep you in place.
“ fucckkk ,” he muttered, glancing down at the ruined fabric of your hot pink pants. “look at that. already makin’ a mess, huh?”
your head shot up, panic flashing across your face. “ toji! these are new —”
“not my problem,” he interrupted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “you shoulda thought about that before you wore somethin’ so tight . can’t even blame me. ya lil’ cunt’s the one makin’ all the mess .”
you groaned, half from frustration and half from the sheer overwhelming sensation as he added another finger, stretching you just right.
“tell ya what,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned closer, lips brushing against your ear. “if you make it through both without ruinin’ those pants completely... maybe , just maybe, i’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”
“but if ya don’t?” toji chuckled, biting gently at your earlobe. “ well... guess you’ll just have to wear ‘em messy next time.”
— ☆
“ fucckk , you’re s’tight,” toji grunted, his fingers dragging slick trails over your thighs as he teased his tip against your entrance. “first with those tiny-ass weights, now this? guess i gotta stretch you out for the real deal, huh?”
you whimpered into your forearm, legs trembling from the aftershocks of the first orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you with his damn fingers alone. your head was a haze of pleasure and overstimulation, too lost in it to even realize how thoroughly you’d ruined your cute pink pants.
“ hey ,” he rasped, smacking your ass lightly to snap you back. “don’t go floatin’ off on me just yet, sweetheart. we’re just gettin’ started.”
his voice dropped lower, the sound rolling through the locker room like a growl as he pressed the fat head of his cock to your slick entrance, giving just the slightest nudge. “ shit , you’re fuckin’ drippin’ already. you want it that bad, huh? bet you couldn’t even tell me when your pants hit the floor.”
“ toji ,” you whimpered, trying to form a coherent thought, but it all shattered the moment he pushed just the tip inside.
“ ohh fuucckkk yeah ,” he groaned, his head tilting back, a shudder running through his massive frame. “ya feel that, baby? nice and slow… fuckin’ perfec t fit.”
he sank in another inch, his girth forcing you to stretch around him. the burn was sweet, electric, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched cry that escaped your lips.
“ shi , don’t go cryin’ on me now,” he muttered, though his voice was laced with a smirk. “or is it just ‘cause s’too big , huh? couldn’t handle me even if you tried.”
your walls fluttered around him at his words, and he hissed through his teeth, gripping your hips to steady you. “oh, ya like that? filthy lil’ girl . already squeezin’ me like you don’t want me to pull out.”
you tried to push back, eager to take more of him, but toji’s hand slammed down on the curve of your back, holding you in place. “ nuh-uh , not s’fast. you’re gonna take me slow, jussst like this,” he grunted, rocking his hips forward and shoving another few inches inside.
“ fucccck ,” he hissed, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his voice all gravel and heat in your ear. “you’re gonna break under me, baby, but you’ll fuckin’ thank me for it later.”
you moaned, gripping the locker for dear life as he finally bottomed out, his cock buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
“there we go,” he growled, pulling back slightly before slamming back in, the force jolting you forward. “ shit , look at you, takin’ it so good. bet you’ll be thinking ‘bout this every time you put those tight little gym pants on again, huh?”
he thrust again, harder this time, his cock dragging against every nerve ending as he set a brutal pace.
“fuckin’ mess,” he groaned, looking down at the slick mess coating your thighs and dripping onto the floor. “but don’t worry, baby. promise i’ll make it worth ya while.”
toji’s pace was merciless, each snap of his hips pushing you further into the lockers as your trembling hands scrambled for something — anything — to hold on to. the metal surface was cold under your palms, a sharp contrast to the fiery heat pooling low in your belly.
“ fuck , look at you,” he grunted behind you, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “all that attitude earlier, now ya can’t even keep your knees steady.”
you whimpered, trying to push back against him, but your legs were too weak to cooperate. toji didn’t seem to mind, one arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him as his other hand dipped between your legs. the first stroke of his fingers over your clit had your head lolling back against his chest.
“ shit ,” you gasped, barely able to form the word as he worked tight, relentless circles against the swollen bud.
“what was that, baby?” toji’s voice was a rough purr in your ear, laced with amusement. “can’t hear you over all that babblin’. ya sayin’ somethin’ real important, huh?”
you weren’t, not really. every attempt to speak came out as a mix of incoherent cries and choked moans, your brain too fogged up to string together a single coherent thought.
toji chuckled, leaning back just enough to grab your tit through the snug fabric of your gym top. “ shiit , look at these,” he murmured, giving it a firm squeeze that had you arching into his touch. “what’s this one called, huh? c’mon, grocery girl , don’t tell me you’ve been skipping anatomy class.”
you blinked rapidly, trying to summon any semblance of a logical response, but the only thing that tumbled out of your mouth was a breathy, “ b-boobs .”
toji froze. for a moment, the locker room was silent except for the wet, obscene sounds of your slick and his choked laugh. “ boobs? ” he repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.
“ uh-huh ,” you nodded dumbly, too far gone to register the trap you’d just walked into.
toji groaned, but not the kind that promised satisfaction. he pulled back just slightly, the absence of his cock stretching you leaving you whining in frustration. “wrong answer, sweetheart.”
“ w-what? ” you stammered, your brain slowly catching up.
he pulled his hand away from your clit, ignoring your desperate whine. “told you, you gotta earn it. and what ya just said? ain’t even a muscle .”
“ but — ”
“ nah ,” he interrupted, gripping your hips to keep you from squirming against him. “you don’t even get the extra credit for effort .”
you felt him shift behind you, his cock brushing against your inner thigh, just out of reach.
“ toojiiii! ” you practically wailed, your voice pitching in desperation.
“ naaahh , don’t ‘toji’ me now,” he drawled, smirking even though you couldn’t see him. “guess you’ll just have to wait for round two to get it right.”
the realization hit you like a truck: no correct answer, no dick.
“it’s the pectoralis major!” you blurted out, your voice cracking with panic.
toji chuckled low in his throat. “shit, there’s my smart girl,” he murmured, thrusting back inside you with one sharp, fluid motion that knocked the air out of your lungs.
“ fuck , baby,” he grunted, picking up his punishing pace once again. “next time, don’t make me work so hard for it, yeah?”
you’re not sure who to thank first — god, your ancestors, or that one stray eyelash wish you made last week — because the way toji’s pounding into you feels like some divine intervention. maybe all of them had a hand in it. you’re sobbing — like, genuinely sobbing — and not just because of the hair-pulling or the fact that toji’s filthy mouth has been spewing the most degrading things you’ve ever heard.
“shit, cryin’ already?” his voice is rough, tinged with smug amusement as he fists your hair tighter. “can’t handle it, baby? nah , you’re tougher than that. gotta be — still lettin’ me wreck this tight little pussy like it’s mine.”
you hiccup a broken moan, legs trembling so violently you’re barely upright, and the lockers are the only thing keeping you from collapsing. your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through your body so hard you swear you lose all sense of time and space.
“ therrre she goes,” toji groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he drives into you harder, chasing his own high. “look at this mess. got you so fucked out you don’t even know where you are, huh?”
you can’t respond — not with how your body’s spasming, clamping down on him like a vice, dragging him closer to his edge.
“fuck, gonna cum with me, yeah?” he growls, voice strained, his hips stuttering as he holds you so close it feels like you’re merging into one.
him cumming is the final nail in the coffin, sending you careening into an aftershock so intense you’re genuinely concerned you might pass out. both of you stay locked in place, panting heavily, sweat dripping off your bodies as the reality of your very messy situation sets in.
toji’s the first to break the silence, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. “guess you’re gonna need a new gym set, huh? no savin’ this one.”
you groan, burying your face against the locker as if it could somehow swallow you whole. “yeah, no shit .”
he chuckles, pulling back just enough to smack your ass lightly, earning a half-hearted glare from you. “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, baby. besides… ” he shrugs, flexing a little in his tank top as he adjusts it. “i still look good in this, so we both won here.”
“we truly live in a society,” you mutter under your breath, earning another laugh from him.
he leans down to kiss the side of your neck, smirking against your skin. “damn right we do. now, c’mon, let’s clean up before satoru comes snoopin’. dude’s nosier than a fuckin’ bloodhound.”
— ☆
toji, ever the professional, seems to flip a switch the moment your sweaty, blissed-out bodies part. he’s tugging his tank top back into place and wiping his face like he’s about to lead another class. the audacity .
his voice takes on this infuriatingly instructional tone, his hand on your lower back steadying you as he rattles off something about muscle recovery or post-workout hydration.
“you’re gonna wanna stretch that hamstring later,” he mutters, glancing down at your wobbly legs that threaten to betray you with every second. “looks like you overworked it — shouldn’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart.”
you blink at him, utterly dumbfounded. this man — this man — is casually chatting about hamstrings while his cum is literally dripping down your thighs and your legs are trembling so hard you could probably register on the richter scale.
“you’re seriously talking about muscles right now?” you deadpan, crossing your arms even though they feel like noodles. “toji, ’m boutta faceplant , and you’re out here giving me a biology lecture.”
he grins, a little too pleased with himself, and leans down to plant his hands on his knees, face so close you can practically feel the warmth of his breath. “what, want me to kiss it better or somethin’?”
“kiss me , idiot,” you huff, tugging him forward by the neckline of that stupidly tight tank top until your lips meet his.
and just like that, the gym instructor act shatters. his shoulders relax, his hand curling around your waist with a gentleness that feels so at odds with how he’d been handling you not five minutes ago.
he hums against your lips, pulling back just enough to mutter, “damn, baby, you’re somethin’ else.”
“ soooo , does this mean you’re carrying my groceries now?” you tease, brushing some of your messed-up hair out of your face.
“depends,” he smirks, straightening up and patting your ass with zero shame. “can you walk without lookin’ like a baby deer? if not, ’m keepin’ my hands free to catch ya when you inevitably fall on your cute little face.”
you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “big talk for someone who can’t keep his hands to himself.”
“can’t help it,” he shrugs, leaning in close again with that wolfish grin of his. “you make it too damn easy, princess.”
if he keeps this up, your next gym session might be less about training and more about dodging toji’s wandering hands in the frozen food aisle.