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You’d been at the Fushiguro residence plenty of times. Enough times that you knew where the bathroom was even with the lights switched off, you knew what drawer to look in when Megumi called out for a pair of scissors or a roll of sticky tape for your latest group project. You knew where his dad kept his liquor stash - a collection of half empty bottles hidden under the sink, cheap enough that he wouldn’t notice you topping them up a little with water every now and then.
You’d all crowd Megumi’s bedroom after lectures, the small space converted to a makeshift study room. His neatly made bed would be splayed with notebooks and empty snack wrappers. Sometimes on warmer days you’d all slip through his back sliding door, backpacks clinking with stolen liquor bottles that you’d take turns swigging from, sat under the big tree in the yard, laughing, young and careless. You'd stay there for hours - talking amongst yourselves, playing board games, shooting the shit. Warmed and happy beneath the sun, sleepy with the heat and the pilfered liquor burning in your bellies as the light dappled the earth through gaps in the rustling leaves.
The very best part of using Megumi’s place as your post lecture hideout was that you didn’t have to worry about anyone catching you. Usually.
Megumi’s single father, Mr Fushiguro, or "just Toji" as he’d once insisted you call him one of the first times you’d met him. The same time that he'd pointedly ignored your flushed face, and the way you were clearly hiding something behind your back, nearly having been caught lighting a half packed blunt in his bathroom.
He was most often absent. Out at work, or what you’d come to assume was work, not that Megumi ever divulged what it was that his father actually did to earn the money he always seemed to be throwing around. Whatever it was it paid well enough to have a nice car tucked in the garage that he drove exclusively on weekends, and to shout you all takeout for your “study sessions” at least twice a week.
You got the feeling the money was a convenient way to fill the void of parenthood for him. You'd brought it up to Megumi once, but from the way he'd gone rigid and quiet, you got the distinct feeling he'd prefer if you just dropped the subject. Plus, daddy's guilt money had funded enough of your group antics, and Megumi’s vinyl collection, to keep him from being too outwardly upset anytime he came home to an empty house and a curled fifty left under the fruit-bowl on the kitchen counter.
Sometimes though, Toji would be home too. In the case that he was, you could usually find him lounging on the couch watching some old action film. Those jade colored eyes glued to the screen, lazily watching Rambo stalk soldiers through the forest in his bandana, bulging muscles slicked with mud. Or Arnie with his sun glazed biceps laying out half-baked traps for The Predator. Always something retro with macho soldiers holding big guns, conquering something, the very pinnacles of on screen masculinity. Other times he’d be hunched over the breakfast table milling over bills, an old pair of frames shoved up his nose, all serious like as he squinted through the hairline fractures in the glass down at the paperwork, as if he were irritated by its mere existence.
Tonight he was doing the former - toned ass firmly planted on the old leather couch in the living room. You stood in the hall watching the light bounce from the screen, painting the warm lit walls of the hallway blue. You’d been standing there for a good five minutes, overcome with the inevitable awkwardness that came with being alone with one of your friend’s parents. That uneasy balance of mild familiarity, and yet the only common factor being that you both happened to be occupying the same space at the same time.
The best way you’d always found to cope with such an issue was to meet it head on, act like the awkwardness didn’t exist at all. I think therefore I am, or whatever bullshit your psych professor had told you last week when you’d rolled in fifteen minutes late, half asleep and still half buzzed from the night before.
“Oh, is this Human Earthworm 2?” You chirped as you peeked in from the hallway, heart thrumming hard in your chest like a trepid rabbits foot.
You watched Toji’s head tilt a little at the TV, as if he hadn’t actually cared enough to figure out what it was that he was watching until you’d asked just now.
“Uh-huh,” came his slow reply. The sound was lazy, like his mouth hadn’t even bothered to shape it into any kind of distinguishable word.
At the same time that he answered, he tilted his head back and eyed you for a silent moment, assessing the abnormality in his home. You swallowed thickly as you held his gaze, and as you did so you swore you saw his eyes flicker downward, trailing down your form. You suddenly felt self conscious, tugging the loose shirt you’d thrown on a little further over your shorts, shielding the curve of your bare thighs as best you could.
As quickly as it had happened, it was gone - those sharp eyes once again fixed on yours. It was just a trick of the light, you thought, the bright flashes cast from the screening time with a dramatic score. In the next blink his head was facing forward once more, lounged back into his seat twirling a half empty bottle of what you assumed was beer between his fingers.
“You’re welcome to come watch,” he offered coolly, “kill some time before the boys get back.”
Standing there in the hallway, toying nervously with the fabric of your shirt - old band merch stolen from Megumi’s closet - between your fingers, you couldn’t think of a good enough reason to say no. Megumi and Yuji had promised they wouldn’t be long - some issue with Yuji’s uncle, go figure - but that had already been an hour ago now. Yuji had smiled at you sheepishly before they’d left, clasped your hands between his own as he paused in the front doorway and promised he’d make it up to you later. But Megumi had given you that familiar look over his curved shoulder that said “don’t wait up”.
That left you with few options on what to do, given that they’d taken the only ride any of you owned, and the next bus stop was more than eight miles away. Not to mention that the sun had already slipped well below the horizon. Your only real option was to kick it at the Fushiguro’s and count down the hours until they got back. Plus, you didn’t mind Toji, not really. Sure he was a little rough around the edges - always smelt a little dangerous, like motor oil and smoke, always came home with a new scar or some bruise tucked beneath the collar of his shirt, and what few stories Megumi had revealed about his childhood weren’t exactly rosy. But there was an odd level of comfort that came along with that. He had an ease to him, a coolness. Like he was confident that he could handle whatever situation came his way.
You liked that. Liked that unwavering sureness. As you watched him take another slow sip, you couldn’t deny that you liked the way he looked too. Broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist when he rolled them to get comfortable, probably a crook in that thick neck from sitting in the same position all afternoon. His profile was made up entirely of sharp angled lines, catching the cool light bouncing from the TV as he tilted his head back to take another slow sip of the mid strength beer he was nursing. Before you could look away again his eyes flicked back to you, and you felt yourself flush hot in embarrassment. You swore his lips twisted, but you couldn’t be sure as he turned his head just as the light picked up again.
Firm in your decision - and left with little choice - you pattered into the room, almost jumping when the light flashed and revealed his outstretched arm blocking your path, something dark and glossy glinting in his grasp.
“Thirsty?”
With the next flicker of light from the TV you realized that it was a beer bottle he was holding, probably fished from a little cooler on the other side of the couch. You’d bet money it was the one with the faded pinup sticker on the side, the same one you’d all stolen last summer when you’d skipped class to head to the beach. It had ended up tipped over after a single game of beach volleyball, half-crushed ice cubes splayed over the sand like a crime scene, evidence of your theft melting in the heat.
The flick of his hand tugged you from your thoughts as he nudged the bottle toward you once more, a little more impatient now. Your eyes traced the open rim, arrested by the sudden nagging thought that you hadn’t seen a bottle opener on the coffee table.
“Don’t tell me you college kids don’t drink anymore,' he poked.
“No, sir,” you replied smoothly, though you could tell by the way his dark eyebrow arched up that he didn’t believe a single word.
“C’mon kiddo, not my first rodeo,” he chuckled in reply, the sound was graveled yet smooth - pleasant.
You found yourself smiling cheekily, face hot. Of course he didn’t believe you, it’s not like he was a complete idiot. You could tell by the innate sharpness in his eyes that he saw plenty more than he let on.
“Go on,” came his rumbling voice over the crashing of the TV. He nudged the bottle out toward you, glass neck looped beneath a thick finger.
You eyed him for a moment, something tiny and a little uncertain swirling in your chest before you shook the feeling away and lifted your hand to accept the bottle.
When you tilted your head back and took a sip, it was oddly sweet, and a tang of bitterness coated your tongue. You must have scrunched your nose a little, because you heard Toji chuckle beside you. Your face blazed hot and you took another swig, more determined this time - suddenly arrested by the need to prove yourself. You managed to swallow without grimacing the second time, refusing to let him think you weren’t grown enough for this.
“Sit,” he said easily, patting the spare couch seat beside him.
You took the next one over, leaving an appropriate square of leather between you both. You curled into the armrest, legs tucked beneath you, and settled in to watch the rest of the old film still rolling.
After a few more sips of your gifted beer your body felt warm, a pleasant familiar buzz washing over you, and you found yourself thinking you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night just like this - curled up on the leather couch watching old movies roll by. That lone thought bounced prettily around inside the cavern of your skull as you watched the silhouettes move. That was until you turned away from the screen for a moment, and with the movement of your head that simmering warmth in your belly rose, suddenly a notch too high, and you found your vision swirling before your eyes, pulsing in thick nauseous throbs.
Toji tilted his chin where it was resting over his knuckles, eyes running silently over you from the other side of the couch as you rubbed at your forehead.
“You good?” Came his flat voice through the haze.
You shook your head a little, and groaned when the world wobbled along with the motion through your bleary eyes. When you blinked your vision was delayed, blurred and sloshing before you like water in a bottle.
“Don’t feel so hot all of a sudden…” You mumbled.
Even your tongue felt slow, fat and heavy as you tried to get it to shape the words.
“Why don’t you lay down for a sec, hm?” He suggested.
Laying down? Yeah, that sounded good…
Before you could really consider it properly, you found yourself collapsing sideways onto the couch. Instead of the cool leather you’d expected, as you fell your cheek instead hit something firm and warm. With a dull little pang of shock you realized the top half of you had landed inadvertently over Toji’s lap. Your legs were splayed - one tucked into the couch cushion, the other dragging on the floor. You could feel one of your slides slipping off, shaggy threads of the carpet licking at your bare foot below.
Thick muscled thighs spread beneath your shoulder, and you felt Toji nudge his hips a little until you were rested relatively comfortably in his lap, your flushed cheekbone pressed against his sweats. You stiffened subconsciously. The part of your brain that wasn’t being accosted by the wave of nausea was blaring out alarm bells - this wasn’t right.
“Jus’ relax, kid,” came Toji’s soothing rumble from above you, and you softened despite yourself without further argument. With the way your head was swimming it was easier just to let the sound of his voice lead you along, into relaxation alongside the leaping waves.
Letting your heavy eyes flutter closed, you listened to the gentle rustle of fabric as he adjusted himself every so often on the worn couch, and the droning mumble of the TV bleeding into the buzz. Your vision still swirled even in the blackness behind your eyelids, so when you felt the first brush of knuckles over your shoulder you chocked it up to a simple figment of your muddled brain. Even if it was a dream, the sensation was undeniably pleasant, comforting.
It was only when you felt the inexcusable press of fingertips begin to trace slow lines from your rib cage down to your waist did your eyes finally shoot open. You tilted your head and your gaze landed on Toji’s face, tracing the sharp shape of his jawline in the dim light. You found his own eyes were narrowed and dark, glistening like shining beads of sea glass as he peered down at you.
“Poor baby, that one little drink really went to your head, huh?” He teased, and your eyes caught on the scarred slip of pink kissing the corner of his lips as they spread into a sly smile.
He looked different now, painted in the cool flashing light of the screen - eyes narrowed and pearly teeth glinting. It was uncanny and undeniably dangerous. The sight shot a bolt of hot fear straight through you, which you swallowed down thickly - settling into a hard ball, a dead weight in your gut.
“Don’t you worry, ‘m here,” he soothed, knuckles still rolling up and down the curve of your waist.
His fingers were warm, distractingly so. Carving winding paths over the valley of your hip, teasing slowly along the hem line of your stolen shirt. The rhythmic pattern made your already heavy eyelids droop a little further, vision turning dreamy like the smears of an oil painting. You couldn’t deny the comfort of his body beneath you - firm and soft in equal measure, present in a way that made your lower belly swirl dangerously hot.
You weren’t sure you’d ever felt so warm. The gentle drunken buzz continued to thrum through your veins, peaking when a hand - just as warm and rough as his teasing fingers - was finally bold enough to cup one of your breasts through your shirt, and it squeezed until you gasped out a breathy sound.
“Shhh," he cooed, tracing the outline of your nipple with his thumbnail where it was poking through the thin fabric, the nub pebbled instantly beneath his touch.
Before you could think better of it, you instinctively tilted your head inward in some blind bid for escape, inadvertently nuzzling into the softened muscle of his thigh as your lips parted around a breathy sigh. You swallowed hard when you felt the responsive kick of his half-hardened length against your temple, and a slow sticky unease bubbled to life in your gut as the weight of the situation you were in finally hit you.
“Easy doll, we’ll get there,” he hummed, the sound melting into a breathy chuckle.
With an ease that made your chest tighten, he rolled you over until you laid flat on your back, then tugged you up by your underarms until you were tucked beneath his shoulder, cheek pressed tightly to his broad chest. You listened to the steady thrum of his heart, ticking against your ear, barely audible above the hum of blood pounding in your skull.
“Why don’t we start with these, hm?”
You watched his hand slide into frame, thick fingers teasing over your belly before they dipped to curl beneath the tattered hem of your shirt. Before you could cry out, or even try to lift a heavy limb to stop him - he’d tugged the fabric up, peeled over your abdomen until your chest lay bare to the crisp air.
You’d forgone a bra, sure that all you would be doing tonight was sitting in Megumi’s bed scrolling mindlessly on social media. Crunching on the stale cookies Yuji would press to your lips while a bootleg copy of some old punk album Megumi had ripped droned in the background.
With a pleased hum, he flicked a finger feather soft over the peak of one bare nipple, his grin widening when you jolted in response, back arching so that your chest inadvertently pressed into the touch. Toji craned his head to press his lips flat over one of your nipples, and you jerked in his lap when you felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin. He suckled lightly and then released you with a muted ‘pop’, blowing a slow stream of cool air just to watch the little bud harden again.
“Perfect f’kin tits…” He mumbled thoughtfully, the big hand splayed over your belly slid up to grope at the swell of one, pinching lightly.
His head dipped once more, this time wrapping his lips around the other neglected nipple. He groaned a little when he suckled the soft skin into his mouth and felt you harden against his tongue. The rhythm continued for a while, him mouthing and pinching at either breast until you were squirming and breathless, nipples hard and raw from the endless graze of his teeth. He made a final satisfied sound before he lifted his head, hand cupped beneath - pinching just to watch the way his spit glistened over the curves in the low light.
Despite the way your limbs felt as though they were made of jelly, when his fingers crept down toward the hem of your shorts, your own hands scrambled to grasp at his forearm in a frantic instinctive defense. He paused for a moment, looking lightly amused, as if he’d been met with a sight as formidable as the hiss of a tiny kitten, before he pushed past your feeble blockade like it was nothing.
“You’re not feeling good, right sweetheart?” He figured. “So just relax and let me take care of it, yeah?”
His voice was low and smooth, and it might have actually been soothing if not for the way his fingers were teasing beneath the waistband of your shorts. He let out a satisfied sound when he finally thumbed the strip of fabric down enough to expose your soft mound, concealed beneath a pair of little lace panties. Your hands collapsed against your bare stomach in defeat, arms limp and heavy where they lay - useless as dead weights.
“Cute,” he mused, eyes dropped to catalog the laced pattern of your underwear. Nothing more than a tease of fabric with a sweet little bow at the center of the waistband.
His finger traced up the clothed dip of your slit in a lazy drag until you felt his nail scratch over your clit, and you went rigid in his grasp.
“Expecting a lil’ something extra tonight were we, huh sweetheart?” He questioned, pointer finger beginning to thrum in a slow pattern over your clothed clit, and you jerked with each sticky tap.
You shook your head limply, groaning at the way your vision shook like an etch-a-sketch at the motion.
“No? Well you must’a wanted one of the boys to see these cute lil panties, right?”
If your mouth had been functioning properly you might have called him delusional, but with the way your face was tingling numb all over and the distinct throbs of pleasure zipping up your limbs from the tapping of his fingers, you were rendered utterly silent. You were hot, so hot that you thought you might actually burst into flames. A case of spontaneous human combustion in the middle of your bestfriend’s living room.
“I didn’t… I didn’t want…” You tried, glassy eyes lowered to watch as his fingers pinched at the fabric, tugged it tight over your pussy just to watch it turn translucent with your arousal, watch the obscene shape of you twitch beneath.
With a sudden burst of strength, you shoved him - shouldering against the flat wall of his abdomen, hands gripping over his thighs as you lurched over the edge of the couch. You may as well have been fighting against an iron gate. With the force of your own rioting, you felt the world suddenly begin to tilt, and before you could stop yourself, fine motor skills worn down to nubs, you had slipped off the couch, and you found yourself hitting the floor with a dull thud.
You groaned, a sharp sting pulsing between your shoulder blades as you writhed along the carpet. Before you could even lift a knee, Toji had eased himself to the floor and crowded over you. His body was a concrete slab laid over-top of you, blocking the dull light like the lid of a tomb sliding into place. It was then, as your shoulder pressed into the soaked carpet, that you realized you'd dropped your drink earlier. The abandoned bottle lay on its side above your head, warm beer glugging out over the carpet each time you squirmed, nudging it further along the floor.
“Let’s try that again, hm?”
This time when his fingers hooked over your waistband, your hands gave no response to your defensive urges, any remaining energy had been depleted in your single escape attempt. Instead your limbs simply stuck lame and limp beside you on the carpet. Having finally freed you from your panties, Toji’s hands slid up to part your thighs. Thick arms looped beneath your ass, and he tugged you flat, one hand hooked beneath your knee to pry your legs open. He took a moment just to stare at the space between for a few indulgent seconds before he leaned over and drooled a long line down onto your pussy, fingers following suit through the trail of spit.
You made a sharp, guttural sort of noise when his fingers eased inside, too hot and too thick as they began to curl, petting at your insides in a sort of massage that had your lips parting around soft little pants.
“So, who’d you fancy then, huh?" Toji pried again, "Pink hair, or Megs?”
It felt wrong to think of them now, your two best friends. Yuji with his cheeky smile and sweet words, carrying your bags for you and slipping you little sweets as repentance for letting him copy your lecture notes. And Megumi, in all his quiet intensity, bringing you cold bottles of milk tea from the vending machine during long study sessions, those steel eyes softening when you murmured out a soft ‘thanks Megs’ and screwed the cap off with your teeth, gaze still stuck on the pages spread on the duvet below you.
No, you shouldn’t think of them. Especially not when one of their fathers had his fingers stuffed so deep inside your cunt that you were blinking away twinkling little stars.
“Not for nothin’, but I don’t think either of ‘em could handle you.”
Your face burned hot, more so by the obscene sounds he was drawing from you - the wet slapping of his fingers as he worked your tight pussy open, and your own half swallowed moans as you tried to hide just how affected you really were by the entire ordeal.
“I mean look at this tight little pussy,” he muttered, and with the motion of his wrist worked another lewd squelch from you, “so freakin’ greedy, suckin’ in my fingers like this.”
You could barely hear his actual words over your own frantic pulse, but the vulgarity of them stung just the same. Stoking the desirous fire burning in your belly alongside the sight of the muscle twitching in his toned forearm with each curl of his fingers.
“Nah, you need a real man, don’tcha baby?” He cooed, “well don’t you worry that pretty little head. Daddy’s here now.”
You felt sick to your stomach. Not just from whatever poison you’d sucked down earlier that had you laying limp and spread over a near strangers lap, any fight left in you dissolving more and more by the second. But also for the way your body was betraying you. Gushing bubbles of slick around his fingers, twitching around him, on the edge of coming your brains out right there on the same fucking rug you’d spread your textbooks over two nights ago, carpet tickling your belly as you'd kicked your feet, nibbling a kilometrico.
When you came it was sudden, pleasure creeping up on you all slow and sweet until you found yourself going rigid beneath him, and with a shuddered groan you were clenching around his fingers, gushing in a frantic pulsing throb. He talked you through it, voice dropped low and gruff, murmured into your ear like a secret.
“Easy now, shhh. That’s it, that’s a good girl. I’ve gotcha, just let go for me.”
You swallowed thickly when your vision began to clear, mouth dry and throat raw as if you’d just run a marathon. The dim room flitted back into focus more and more with each sticky blink, with each residual twitch of pleasure, until you met that sharp jade gaze once more.
“Leaky cunt of yours is makin’ such a mess,” he tutted, though he sounded undeniably pleased as he lifted his fingers from you with a wet sucking sound, turning to show you the pearly webs forming between the digits, “clean it up for me, yeah?”
His fingers traced your lips slowly at first, the tips dragging feather soft like he was painting them with gloss, and you grunted when they dipped inside. He worked his way between your teeth until his fingers pressed against your tongue, and the taste of your own release hit you - sharp and musky. You made a strangled sound around the invasion, and he watched with a satisfied sort of grin as his fingertips petted at your silky tongue.
You began to drool around his knuckles, breath coming hard and shallow through your nose, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your lips around his digits like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your tongue swirled, cheeks hollowed in a mellow suckle. He watched you through half lidded eyes, nudging his wrist forward every so often just to hear you gag, just to watch the drool dribble down your chin.
“Knew you were trouble, kid,” he said, gaze glued on the glittering tears that were beginning to bead on the edges of your lashes. “One little drink and you turn into a grade-a slut, isn’t that right?”
You were nodding before you could think, dumbed by the pleasant residual high of your orgasm and the way his thick fingers crowded your mouth, leaving no room for coherent thought. Seemingly satisfied, he slipped his fingers from you, then lifted them to his own mouth to suck lightly as he lifted his hips to shimmy his sweatpants down. His thick length sprang out to sit sat hard and heavy against your inner thigh, and you could feel the heat of him, the sheer weight burning into your skin.
A feeble whimper escaped your throat as he nudged forward, rutting between your slippery thighs. You watched his reddened head paint a slick line obscenely as he rutted a few times, fucking your thighs in a lazy rhythm, smearing your skin with milky dribbles of pre.
“You want it, don’t you princess?” He questioned, head tilted to gaze down at you, inky hair splayed over those sharp eyes.
This time you shook your head feverishly, shuddering each time he missed your thigh and slid wayward over your leaky slit instead, length catching on your throbbing clit.
“Don’t lie,” he bit with a sudden sharpness, "I see the way you look at me. The way you prance around my house in those old shirts with no fuckin’ pants on like you’re just daring me to bend you over the counter.”
You couldn't deny it, the little crush that had been silently forming over the past few months, hell, maybe even the past few years. You were young, and single, and bored. So sure, you’d found yourself acting out on it a little more recently, not that you ever thought it would amount to anything, certainly nothing this vulgar, this real, this wrong.
The latest incident had been last weekend. You’d snuck into the house after a campus party in a flurry of weed smoke and hushed giggles. Pinky finger’s linked with Megumi you’d tiptoed through the hallway in nothing but bikini bottoms and his leather jacket, hair still wet, dripping salty water onto the hardwood from your impromptu dip into the frat house pool.
You’d crashed into Megumi’s back when he’d suddenly halted in the hallway. In your inebriated state you’d simply giggled and run your hands up his warm back, fingers curling over his shoulders as you peered sideways at whatever had him frozen in place.
Your hazy eyes had met the sharp gaze of Toji, who was standing in the hall before you both, looking a little sleep deprived and lightly irritated in soft grey sweats and - to your delight and horror, in equal measure - no shirt. His eyes had met yours for a brief moment before they flickered down, roaming blatantly over your bare legs where you were dribbling pool water onto his floorboards. Not that you could blame him, you were ogling the firm slopes of his bare chest just the same.
You’d shivered despite the tempered air, feeling a sticky little pool of heat flicker to life deep in your belly. Whether it was the predatory look in his eyes as they'd raked down your bare lower half, or the weed turning your thoughts all sticky and slow - you weren’t sure. All you had been sure of was that you’d needed someone to touch you desperately, and if it happened to be your best friends dad, then so be it.
Toji had said nothing, neither had Megumi. They'd both simply stood in a tense silence, frozen in some kind of unspoken stand off. You’d had half a mind to shove Megumi forward just to get it over with, but before you could gather the courage Toji had simply snorted a sharp puff of air through his nostrils and continued down the hall, shoulder grazing yours as he’d passed.
That contact had plagued you. That tiny caress of skin had felt like touching a live wire, and it played on a loop in your head alongside the searing heat of his gaze - that filthy look in his eyes - as you lay atop the makeshift mattress on Megumi’s bedroom floor later that evening.
Memories of similar run-ins bounced around in your skull like the sweet kiss of poison. The time you’d crept out of Megumi’s room in the wee hours of the morning in search of water and found yourself frozen in the hall, watching the cool blue light creep in through the window and listening to the odd sounds creeping out from beneath Toji's bedroom door - a steady creaking, a dull rhythmic thumping. You’d stood confused, listening for a few silent moments, and blinking slowly, head still clouded with sleep. It was only when a desperate and distinctly feminine moan slipped out from beneath the doorway - quickly muffled by what you could only imagine was a hand, or the hard press of a pillow - did you finally spin around on the balls of your feet and sprint back inside the safety of Megumi’s room. You’d slipped back beneath the covers with your face burning and a dull sticky ache blooming between your thighs, that lewd rhythmic thumping of the headboard playing on repeat as you willed yourself to go back to sleep.
Or the time you’d strolled into the front yard of the Fushiguro residence to pickup Megumi for an early lecture. You’d been halfway up the front steps, one hand clutching a coffee, the other hand lifted to knock at the front door - only to have it swing open and reveal a women you’d never seen before pressing a chaste kiss to Toji’s stubbled cheek, while one of his big hands loosely traced the shape of her ass. He’d met your eyes coolly over her sleep-messed hair, though you’d been much more preoccupied by the pair of lacy red panties scrunched inside her shallow handbag, and the dark sucking marks littering her throat, peeking out above her wrinkled collar.
Your thoughts spiraled, fueling the guilt-ridden pleasure writhing in your stomach as you shoved a hand down your stolen pair of boxer shorts and humped desperately against your palm. Your other hand slapped over your mouth to hide the desperate little sounds slipping out into the darkness, praying Megumi wouldn’t hear you where he was already passed out on the bed.
“Yeah, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Toji purred into your ear, tugging you back to the present, his hand lowered to guide his length to your entrance. “You’re a real menace, sweetheart.”
You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes squeezed closed as you felt him slot himself between your spread thighs. The sting was sharp, searing hot as his fat tip breached your entrance.
“Here you go, here’s what all that teasing gets you.”
He sank inside slowly, intentionally. Letting you feel every thick inch, every ridge, every pulsing vein as he split you open so deep that a ragged little sound escaped you and your tingling fingers twisted in the carpet.
“Oh…” You gasped, finding yourself well and truly pinned beneath the weight of his hips - pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest. When he slipped out an inch only to smack back against you with a sucking slap, your gasp turned to a needy moan. “Oh…”
As if he’d just been waiting to hear that sweet sound from you, those shallow little humps turned to a firm rhythmic stroke. The weight of him atop you was all you could comprehend, any coherent thought knocked clean from your head with each slap of his hips.
‘Plap! Plap! Plap!’
All you could do was allow your legs to collapse either side of him, heels slipping further down the carpet with each firm buck. When your fingers crept up to clutch weakly at his shirt he grunted and eased out an inch just to let you peer down between your bodies, see your own slick lacing you both together, glistening in the blue of the TV light. You groaned at the raw sight, feet arching against the carpet.
“Look at those little toes curlin’. Does that feel good baby?”
Baby. And just like that you’d graduated from ‘kiddo’. When he slipped back inside again, he kissed that spongy little spot so deep that your breath caught in a jagged inhale, a desperate sound that eased into a high pitched whine.
“Yeah, I know it does,” he murmured, voice so low and silky that it sent a prickle of goosebumps over your skin. “Shh, stop fussing now. Just lemme put in the work.”
With that he resumed that delicious pace, leaned back a little, watching you jostle with the force of his thrusts. You blinked up at him, head utterly empty, just watching the blue light bounce over the curve of his pecs, his abs twitching in the low light. His hand slid down to grip at the hem of your shirt, and in a single rough motion he tugged it up over your bare chest until the fabric bunched beneath your chin. With a satisfied hum, his hand came to rest between your breasts, pressing into your sternum just hard enough to feel the way your heart was hammering against his palm.
He gazed down at you, eyes lowered to watch the way your bare tits jiggled either side of his palm. His form was backlit by the TV, looking dark and shapeless, doused in shadow like some ghostly apparition taking you apart piece by broken piece. You felt your lips move, though the words that slipped out were slurred and crackled, and whisper quiet. His brow furrowed, and the dark shape of him expanded like an eclipse as he leaned in, head tilted sideways to hear you better.
“What’s that, doll?” He questioned in a low rumble, “c’mon speak up. Use your big girl words and tell me what you need.”
Somewhere in the clouded sticky sweet workings of your mind those words resonated, sending a blind jolt of desire through you, sizzling all the way down to your numbed toes. Thus came the first real words you’d managed to string together since you’d first sunk down onto the lounge what seemed hours ago now.
“More… -huh-… please…” You croaked, voice tattered and gone, “more, -hn-harder… please,… daddy…”
Your throat burned with the heat of your reply, the implications that came along with it, and you swallowed thickly before you squeezed your eyes closed, fingers tugging limply at his shirt. He groaned then, so low and deep that you felt the rumble where your knuckles were brushing against his chest, sweat sticking you to the fabric.
“Fuck, princess…” He panted, the most affected you’d heard him all evening. “You really got somethin’ knocked loose in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”
Toji leaned in further, forehead pressed to yours, so close that you could feel his breath, hot and humid in the shared air. You blinked up at his face, so close and hazy through your lashes, eyes tracing that pretty pink scar carved at the edge of his lips, bobbing as he spoke.
“Want me to cum inside, yeah?” He grunted into your ear, “fill you up?”
You should have said no, shook your head, tried to shove him off of you, bite, claw, something. But that wouldn’t be right, would it? Because you did want it. You wanted him to take you, to fill you, bruise you, break you, whatever he wanted. So instead of cussing at him - lifting a limb to limply kick or punch at him - you found your head nodding limply, forehead butting against his collarbone as your eyes fluttered closed and rolled to the back of your skull.
“What did I say, huh? Use your words sweetheart,” he tutted, hand sliding from your sternum to instead tuck between your spread thighs, arm shoved tightly between the heat of your bodies, “beg me for it properly.”
The moment his calloused fingertips grazed your clit you were done, that tight little coil in your belly snapped in an instant, and you were cumming harder than you had in what felt like months.
“Inside please daddy, pleasepleaseplease!-…”
You couldn’t manage any more words, you could barely manage the ragged panting breaths you were sucking in as you writhed against him. Hips bucking haphazardly, spine arched into a sinful curve, toes curling desperately into the carpet. You could feel yourself clenching around him in tight milking throbs as fresh tears pooled at the edges of your vision. You thought your senses might have actually cut out for a moment, fading back into focus just in time for you to feel him begin to twitch where he was buried deep, and the sweet burst of sticky heat that came with it.
A string of curses and a low grunt hit your ear, and his hand slipped out from between your thighs to instead smack against the carpet beside your head, leveraging his brutal pace. Toji’s head was down turned, forehead pressing into your temple as his hips stuttered in a few final thrusts. His base repeatedly kissed your overstimulated clit, sending sharp little sizzles of red-hot pleasure up your spine before he pressed down hard and settled deep.
Catching your breath, you blinked up at the ceiling through bleary, tear scattered lashes, watching the cool light from the TV bounce as it replayed the DVD title screen on repeat. Toji’s body dwarfed your own like a great weighted blanket, you could do nothing but try to slow your pulse and revel in the searing stretch of being utterly full as your head finally began to clear.
Toji stirred to life above you, tilting his head until you felt his lips brush the delicate strip of skin beneath your ear. You expected some kind of quip purred into your ear, or for him to lift himself from you, but to your surprise you instead felt his lips part, and he pressed a hot open mouthed kiss to your throat.
“Ngh-! Toji!-“
He cut you off with the sharp nip of his teeth, and then the soothing lave of his tongue. Your jaw was slack by the time you felt him begin to suckle at the site, mouth working tender bruises into your skin. You pictured the woman you’d ran into fleeing his house in the early morning hours, the spatter of hickeys scattering her throat like a brand, tucked beneath the same shirt she’d worn the day before.
His lips parted from your throat with a sucking ‘pop!’, and with a grunt he lifted himself from you and up to his knees, where he took a moment to rake his eyes over your sordid form, taking in the raw sight. Your trembling thighs, still split open and smeared with your arousal. His own cum leaking from your swollen hole, dribbling down between your cheeks to stain the carpet below alongside your abandoned beer bottle. The way you were still panting lightly, gazing over your bare chest and the scrunched fabric of your t-shirt at him, wide-eyed and flushed, as if he’d hung the moon.
He couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a smile as he leaned back down, finger curled over your t-shirt to tug it back down over your chest, as if that could restore any amount of your dignity. His hand smoothed the tattered collar, and he lingered there for a moment, thumb tracing the teeth marks he’d left embedded in your skin in an action that felt strangely territorial.
“Better clean yourself up before the boys get home, huh kiddo?”