Zzzz😴

Rounding the corner, his long legs making no accommodations for your shorter ones, he says, “No. If you wanted better results, you should have put in a better performance. Surely you’re smart enough to work out that that’s how life works.”

Hands grab his arm, yanking back with all your strength only to be dragged along with him and his burly body. Your heels scrape along the floor. People stare. You don’t care. “Don’t be an asshole. You know my essay was good. It was really good. Just give it a read. A proper one, and not the rushed job you do because you’re overworked and underpaid.”

He stops.

Your face bumps into this back, forehead nearly bruised by the hardness. 

His brows rise above his glasses as he fixes you a look. “Kid, your essay was good — decent introduction, clear structure, sufficient evidence — but it’s not good enough for the extra marks to push you into the top band. Your closing argument fell flat ‘cause of your wishy-washy writing style, you didn’t adequately humour the counter arguments and undermine them to strengthen your thesis, and, worst of all, you misspelt ‘complement.’”

A frown graces your features. 

“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”

“No. With an I, it’s to flatter someone. With an E, it’s to enhance, pair well, or complete another thing.” Toji explains rather robotically, eyes still dead and voice monotone. “For example, if I said you’re a pretty girl, that’s a compliment. And if I said, your essay goes well with the trashcan over there, that’s a statement that suggests the two complement each other. See the difference?”

He’s already stalking off again, hands in his pockets, huge stature unwilling to accommodate the people walking down the hallway. 

You break into a jog, panting embarrassingly by the time you reach him. “Dude, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’re basically friends. Can’t you do your best pal a solid?”

Toji glances down at you. He pushes a door open, holding it a second longer than he needed to. You follow behind him. Somewhat amused, he replies, “We know each other because we’re on the same course, not by choice. And I don’t know what you mean by the whole ‘we’ve gone through a lot together’ thing — the most dramatic thing we’ve faced is when the projector didn’t work and we had to go into a different hall. And we’re definitely not friends.”

Well, fuck, you’re running out of rope. 

“Then, let’s officially be friends,” you offer, elbowing him gently. “If you ever need help, buddy, I’ll always have your back.” Then, in an act of complete desperation, you begin shakily singing, “You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. When the road looks tough ahead—”

A heavy hand shoves you away by your head. You stumble into a bulletin board.

“Enough,” he gruffs. “My day’s already fucked because the prof lost his papers and wants to blame me. I don’t need to lose my hearing on top of that.”

Your head flits around. “Did you guys see that?” People give you weird looks. “He just shoved me. The TA just shoved me. We need to protest his violent behaviour by demanding he remarks our papers. Who’s with me?”

Everyone walks past without another look at you.

Toji, on the other hand, lifts his glasses and runs a hand down his face. Muttering something under his breath, he pushes a door open and holds out a hand before you can mindlessly follow. “It’s the men’s bathroom. Tell me you’re not shameless and stupid enough to come in here.”

“I’ll wait outside.”

His eye twitches. 

As though an idea comes to him, he straightens ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take a dump; you’ll be waiting a while.”

“That’s okay — I have no more classes so take your time but make sure you don’t stay sitting down longer than you need to,” you tell him, smiling innocently and standing aside to let a guy walk out, ignoring the freaked out face he makes at you. “You can get hemorrhoids."

He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.” 

That seems to be as much of you he can tolerate because he walks in without another word to you. Opposite the door, you lean against the wall, whistling and coming up with alternative lines you can pull on him. 

God, he’s so stubborn. 

It’s not like giving you the marks docks his pay or lowers the professor’s opinion of him. He’s clearly just being an ass. 

If he wasn’t such a good TA, a genuinely intelligent man, you would have gone above his head and asked for the prof’s personal assessment. But no, he has to be knowledgeable, a helpful source of information when you’re lost, someone who seems to know everything about any topic, who knows the exact pages of a textbook you should read to further your understanding, and who’s never declined a meeting for clarification on something you wrote. 

For years now, you two have had a friendship-like relationship, often sharing snacks and exchanging brief words before or after lectures and classes, despite what he says.

Everyone gets along with him, though you’ve never actually seen him hang out with friends or go to parties. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Word on the street is he works part time in a couple different places. Some say so he can afford drugs, some for tuition. 

The rumours never interested you, apart from any that mused about his love life, which seems to be nonexistent except for the many girls who hit on him. Not that you’re especially interested.

It’s just fun to be in the know.

Who knows how long has passed since he went in there. Your phone says fifteen minutes. Is that a normal amount of time for someone to be taking a dump?

Hesitantly, you push the door open and yell out, “Fushiguro? You doing okay? Is it stuck? For a couple extra marks, I’ll give you a hand.”

No one replies. 

Brows furrowing, you bend down, looking through the stalls. No feet. What the hell?

Ahead, a window is ajar. Big enough for a man to squeeze through. Well isn’t that convenient? The kind of convenient that exists only in fiction.

Aggrieved and feeling bamboozled, you stomp back to your dorm room, slamming the door, jumping face down on the bed and screaming into the pillows. You’d feel better if you knew he had a grudge on you, if you bumped into him the first day and spilled his coffee all over himself and he’d never forgotten it. Instead, he’s just like that: does things by the book, does his job well, and achieves the best grades with ease. 

Naturally, he’d become the professor’s assistant, a coveted position that seemed like it was made for him from the very beginning, and made your life a living hell because he won’t ever make concessions for you.

Sure, you shouldn’t ask him to, but it’s not like you’re asking for much. You’re generally a high performing student — punctual, hard working, ambitious — but you had one bad day which resulted in one bad essay and it lowered your average and now the internship you’d been eyeing could be snatched from your hands in a blink of an eye. 

“It’s just not fair,” you cry out to your teddy bear. “It’s three marks. Three! Would it kill him to reread my essay and find those three marks?”

Mr. Teddy stares back at you and says, “He’s a grumpy man. Don’t take it personally.”

You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.

“Teddy…you’re right. He is a grumpy man, a TA with broad shoulders, yummy arms, and thick thighs with a bubble butt, but a man nonetheless. If he won’t pull favours for me, student to student, maybe he’ll pull favours for me man to woman.”

The plushie falls to the bed as you stand, staring at yourself in the mirror and formulating a plan. 

With that you decide to seek him out the next day, sporting a new outfit and a different attitude.

.

.

.

“Hi.”

“Fuck off.”

The cafeteria’s busy. It always is. It’s loud enough that most people wouldn’t even hear the exchange — chairs banging on tile, trays clattering, someone laughing too loudly at a table nearby. 

Toji’s hunched slightly over a bowl of udon noodles, chopsticks moving lazily as he slurps them down. Some sports clip plays on his phone, propped against his dented metal water bottle. Commentators yell about something you don’t understand. His sleeves are pushed up over his forearms, revealing ropey muscle and the faint silvery line of an old scar running across his wrist.

An old hoodie hangs off his shoulders over a plain white T-shirt. Distressed jeans, worn sneakers. He’s too big for the plastic chair, long legs spread under the table. When he saw you approach, his feet had hooked onto the chair legs, forcing you to fight to remove it from his clutches so you could take a seat.

So damn rude.

His glasses have fogged slightly from the steam of the noodles.

He doesn’t look up. But he knows it’s you. You can tell by the way his mouth tightens for half a second before he goes back to eating.

You snatch his phone away. His green eyes flick up, annoyed. You smile, arms pushing your breasts together so they spill over your tight top. Toji’s gaze doesn’t waver. He continues to stare at you like you’re a pest. 

“You can’t take no for an answer?” he asks though it’s not a question at all. “Might want to retake the consent course.”

Manicured fingers walk up his bare forearm before scratching down from his elbow. His skin is warm. Light dusting of hair tickling your fingertips. “Oh, Toj, have I ever told you how handsome you are? Because you really are. You’re so damn hot I can hardly focus on the lectures.”

He snorts, still eating his noodles and still refusing to look at your cleavage. “That’ll explain why you’re missing marks.”

Jaw dropping, you force yourself to recover quickly. A heeled foot brushes against his calf, sliding his jeans up. You bat your lashes, sultrily saying, “The only thing I’m missing is your cock in me, big boy.”

Toji meets your eyes again. His scarred lips twitch. “I don’t need to tell you that was bad, do I?”

You cringe, foot dropping and whole body slumping back into the chair. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.” Then you sit up, handing him his phone, and asks, “Are the noodles good? I’ve never had them.”

Phone pocketed, he shrugs. “They’re just the cheapest deal on the menu. Growing girl like you should get something more filling.”

The menu’s extensive, and the only thing sticking out to you is the chicken burger and chicken tenders meal deal. It seems to be especially popular today but you’re not sure you can finish the whole thing. 

“Hey, if I get the Meal Super Cluck Blaster, will you share it with me? I’ve got dinner plans later so I don’t want to fill up.”

That finally gets a reaction. Toji leans back a little and gives you a slow once-over. Tight top. Lacy bra peeking up. Glossy lips. More jewellery than usual. His eyebrow lifts. “That why you’re dressed like a hooker?” he asks lazily. “Hot date?”

“Nah,” you reply, waving him off. “Wore this for yo— Wait.” You lean forward, staring at him wide eyed. “Are you jealous? Are you in love with me already? Because for extra marks, I’ll cancel my dinner plans and promise myself to you for all eternity.”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Go get something to eat; you sound insane.”

You hop up. “Okay, but stay there, alright? Take my burger because I only want the tenders. Oh, and will you share a pot of cheesecake with me? I’m lactose-intolerant but I really want cheesecake right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He’s still here when you come back. 

As soon as you hand him the wrapped up burger, he scarfs it down the way big men do, like they haven’t eaten in days. You push him the tenders too. You’d actually gotten a double serving of everything so you have your own portion of tenders and he gets to eat another burger. There’s no way a man his size could survive on udon noodles.

“Also, let’s not act like you didn’t leave me hanging outside the men’s bathroom yesterday,” you bring up after sipping your juice. “Can’t believe you left through the bathroom window just so you could get away from me.”

“I didn’t,” he says, mouth full and adjusting his glasses. 

You frown, dipping a piece of chicken in hot honey. “No, you definitely did. I peeked and there were no feet in any of the stalls. Unless you’re telling me you can grow invisible.”

“Just lifted my legs when I heard you come in, which I knew your crazy ass would do, so I could finally leave in peace. Didn’t think it’d take you fifteen minutes though.”

A laugh escapes you. “You were waiting me out? Does that sound like the mature thing to do? Jeez, you need to act your age.”

Toji’s eyes meet yours. Your smile falters for the briefest second. “I’m not that much older than you,” he reminds you. “Only by two years.”

“And yet you call me kid or kiddo,” you retort, clearing your throat. Have his eyes always been that green and deep? And is his voice usually that husky and masculine? Because you could have sworn guys your age don’t sound like that.

He shrugs again, second burger finished in a blink of an eye. “Never hurts to remind yourself.”

“Remind yourself what?”

The legs of his chair screech as he pushes it back. He stands, picking up his tray, and answers, “Forget about it. Enjoy your dinner plans. And I’m taking the cheesecake — no one wants a gassy date.”

“Wait,” you call out before he can turn away. “My marks?”

A pat on the head ruffles your hair. 

“Still a no, kid.”

.

.

.

“What if I suck your dick?”

Toji lifts his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got a ton of papers to grade for another class; I don’t have time for you.”

The door shuts behind you. His office is bare, not a single decoration littering the place, not a plant nor a picture. 

His office is exactly how you remember it — disappointingly, aggressively empty. The walls are a dull institutional beige that makes the overhead fluorescent light feel even harsher. No posters. No photos. Not even a sad little plant struggling for life in the corner.

Just a desk. A filing cabinet. Two chairs that look like they were stolen from a waiting room. It’s the kind of office someone occupies temporarily, like he expects to leave at any moment and doesn’t see the point in settling in.

Leaning against the desk anyway, your fingers drum lazily along the edge.

You’ve been here before: once to argue about a paper he’d shredded with red ink, once because you’d missed an exam and needed him to sign a form, and once because you’d sworn you heard him swearing loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.

You grip his shoulder, squeezing as you scan the fat stack of papers on his desk — the prof’s particular about handwritten essays. There’s so much to read through; you do not want to be him. 

“God,” you mutter, flipping through a few pages of the stack. “There’s like fifty here.”

“Seventy-two,” Toji corrects without looking up. His handwriting is sharp and aggressive, red ink slashing through entire paragraphs like he’s committing academic murder. You wince in sympathy for whoever wrote the paper currently being dismantled.

“Good thing you can multitask, can’t you? I’ll suck your dick under the desk, you grade papers, and you bump me up a grade. Easy.”

He shrugs you off, hulking body hunched over and pen scratching on the papers, leaving harsh circles and comments like, ‘what the hell does this mean?’ and ‘you can’t just say perchance.’ 

Toji gruffs, “I’m serious. Take your jokes elsewhere.”

Nah, you think to yourself. 

With a massive struggle against his weight, you yank his chair back, wheeling him a distance from the desk and clambering under before he can fill the space again. He makes some noise above you but you pay him no mind. Your hands rest on his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, marvelling at the density, at the strength you find in them. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” His foot nudges your knee. “Get the fuck out. I’ll cropdust you if I have to.”

You call his bluff by clutching his clothed cock. He jolts, grunting. Laughing softly, you muse, “You say all that but you have a semi already — did my proposition get you hard, Toji?”

You’re rubbing his hard on, trying not to get flustered by how big he feels, and how fat the girth is. Of course he’s big. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’s a big man so naturally the proportions will match up. 

“Suck my dick, don’t suck my dick, it doesn’t matter,” he says, sighing and probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting those marks.”

He thinks that’ll stave you off because he knows you’re whoring yourself out for a grade. What he doesn’t know is that your stupid little brain’s already forgotten about all of that the moment you felt his cock. Now all you can think about is how you’ll have to stretch your lips nice and wide to take him in, and even then, even when your throat is lax and loose, you won’t be able to take him to the base. 

Toji grunts again, peering down at you. “You mouthing at my dick? Did’ya not hear what I said?”

Like you’ve been possessed, you press kisses to where his tip is, humming around it. “I heard, but your dick’s saying other things to me, and I know which I prefer to listen to.”

“My dick’s not marking your paper, so get the fuck up,” he growls.

“Don’t wanna.”

“You’re fucking killing me here.”

A heavy hand bundles your hair up, pulling but you fight against it, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints. His boxers have a hole, and yet you only find it endearing. Freeing his cock so it bounces up and smacks your cheek, it leaves a wet mark on your skin. 

Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin. 

Oh fuck, he really is big. 

With nothing between you and his dick, you can see him in all his glory in the partial shadow of under his desk — long, thick, flushed red, already shiny at the slit, veiny as hell, hairs at the base wild and unruly, with weighty balls to match. You’ve never seen anything better. 

Tongue out, you lick him from base to tip, prodding at his frenulum.

“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth. 

You moan wantonly, already addicted to the salt on his kin, to the texture of his veins, to the softness of his cockhead. “Toji, you’re so big. I don’t think this’ll fit inside me.”

The thing throbs, bobbing. A droplet oozes out and you quickly lick it up. The hand that was pulling your hair has grown slack, simply resting on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping the wood. 

Voice hoarse, he mutters, “If anyone can make it fit, it’ll be your stubborn ass.”

Your eyes meet his from under the desk, mischief sparkling in them you’re sure. His cock throbs again. “I thought you had papers to mark, Fushiguro. Maybe you should get on that, no?”

A calloused thumb presses down on your lips, shushing you. It slides down, bringing your bottom lip down with it, before releasing it so it’ll bounce back in place. That same thumb holds your jaw open, hand guiding your mouth to his tip. You know what he wants. You also know that he knows that you both know that you won this time. 

Wide as you can, you take as much of his length as possible. You don’t get much further than a third of the way, full beyond belief and overwhelmed by just how much of him there still is. Your nails dig into his thighs.

“If this is supposed to convince me to give you extra marks, then you’re failing real hard, doll,” he notes, gripping the base. “Can barely fit the head, can you?”

He’s acting like it’s your fault he’s so big. 

Challenged, you loosen your throat to take him an inch deeper. You gag around the length. Toji curses under his breath. “Careful,” he mutters. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

You ignore him in favour of shallowly bobbing, sucking and licking what you can, as though he’s a lollipop. It’s actually kinda fun.

The familiar sound of pen scratching on paper and paper rubbing on paper echoes in the relatively quiet office. Only the wet sounds of your mouth sucking his cockhead pierces the silence. 

Growing more and more used to his size, you flick your tongue around the head, letting your hands wrap around the rest of him, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth. Occasionally, he makes a couple breathy noises — low grunts when your tongue laps up his tip, gravelly groans when you hollow your cheek to suck, and rough exhales through his nose when you grip his balls, massaging them, thumb rubbing the seam. 

It becomes easier to forget why you were here in the first place; you’re just blowing him for your own entertainment now, wanting something to occupy your throat. 

Then, he asks, as though he’s making casual conversation, “How was the date?”

“Hmm?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “The date,” he repeats. “How was it? He pay for the meal? Open doors, see you to your door, kiss you goodnight and shit?”

Your lips stretch into a smile. You release him with a pop! “I didn’t go on a date,” you tell him. “My friends hosted a housewarming party because they moved in together. I had a great time, thanks for asking.”

Is he pleased? Unaffected? Genuinely just making conversation? Hard to tell, except for the pushing of his hand, urging you back to his dick, and taking him further inside your throat, till his tip bumps the back of the gummy walls. 

“Good,” he exhales out, thighs flexing around your body. “That’s real good.”

“My blowjob skills or that I had a great time?” you ask, words muffled and barely understandable.

“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”

A knock on the door has you both stiffening. Toji glares down at you and whispers, “It’s the prof. Do not make a sound.”

He didn’t need to tell you that — you’re well aware that if you get caught, you’ll both face disciplinary action, and will likely be kicked out of the university. That’s worse than not getting the internship. 

The office falls quiet so suddenly you can hear the ticking of the wall clock. Toji’s hand tightens briefly against the desk as the knock comes again. “Come in,” he calls, voice steady.

The door opens before he even finishes the word.

“Ah, Fushiguro, there you are,” the professor says, stepping inside with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d left already.”

From your position under the desk, you can only see shoes. Polished leather. Slow steps across the floor. You don’t slide his cock out of your throat, lest it makes a sloppy noise that’ll give you both away. So you breathe through your nose, being very, very quiet.

“No, I was just finishing up some grading,” Toji replies, cool as a cucumber.

His tone is annoyingly normal. Completely unbothered. He’s really convincing. Has he done this before? Is this a normal occurrence? Do a lot of girls offer to blow him for better marks, and does he take them up on it? Are you the one exception to his generosity? 

“Good, good.” Papers shuffle. A chair creaks as the professor sits across from the desk. “I actually wanted to ask about the research methods essays.”

Of course he did.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Toji shifts slightly above you — just enough that the movement brushes your shoulder — and then he leans back in his chair. “Yeah?” he says.

“I noticed something odd in the submissions this year,” the professor continues. “Half the class seems to misunderstand the section on sampling bias.”

He hums thoughtfully. “You mean where they’re supposed to explain the limitations of convenience sampling?”

“Exactly.”

A sheet of paper slides across the desk.

“You see this one here—”

From below, you hear Toji pick it up.

“—they describe the method correctly, but their conclusion contradicts their own analysis.”

There’s a pause whilst the TA reads. You stare at the underside of the desk and try not to shift your knees. God, this is like torture. Having a cock lodged in your throat and not being able to do anything with it is hell. Above the desk, they’re chatting away, talking about your fellow students, with the professor none the wiser that one such student’s under the desk. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “They’re treating correlation like it proves causation.”

“Precisely!” the professor says, sounding delighted. “It’s surprisingly common.” Another pause. You hear a pen tap the desk twice. “I was thinking next year we might restructure the lecture slightly,” the professor continues. “Maybe introduce a short case study before the assignment.”

“Could work,” Toji replies. “Give them something concrete, tangible, to analyse.”

Your legs are starting to cramp. Your lips tighten around his hot cock. Toji brushes your hair back from your face, a quiet act to show he hasn’t forgotten about you. The professor keeps talking, completely unaware.

“Also,” he says, shuffling more papers, “the literature review sections were stronger this year.”

“Mm.”

“I suspect the workshop helped.”

Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.

“You handled that well, by the way,” the professor adds. “The students seem to respond to your feedback.”

This is way too boring, you decide. In an act you might end up regretting for the rest of your life, your offended tongue prods his tip where he’s still leaking salty precum. 

He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood. 

The professor asks him if he’s alright, and Toji replies, “Fine. Sorry. Just had a cramp.”

A triumphant smile pulls at your lips, which is quickly wiped away by the sudden pinch at your cheek. You wince, unable to smack him in retaliation. 

A sigh fills the room. “I fear you work too hard, Fushiguro. You ought to take a break here and there. Do something fun and wild, or whatever it is people your age do nowadays.”

“I am having fun,” Toji says, hand coming back to rest on your head, growing heavier and heavier until you’re forced to take him inside your mouth, deeper and deeper. “In my own way.”

He’s filling you up more than he was before, now more insistent, no longer so passive. You’re struggling to take him but he’s not letting up. Fuck, you’re soaked between the legs. Who knew you had an oral fixation?

“Well, good,” the professor says. He pushes his chair back. Your heart jumps in joy. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know those papers won’t mark themselves. Boy do I not envy you.” He laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too, Professor.”

Footsteps move toward the door. The handle turns. The door opens. Closes. Silence. Two seconds pass.

Then Toji peers down, licking his scarred lips, and mutters under his breath, “You needy fucking girl. Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t resist not being a pain my fucking ass. If you want cock so badly, then here you go.”

His hips thrust up, hand keeping you in place. Your eyes fly open, throat stretching to take all of him in. Oh, he was as pent up, as frustrated, as you were. The force in which he’s rutting inside your throat displays that nice and clear. 

“You’ll do anything for a good grade, won’t you? Even debase yourself like this. God, you drive me crazy.”

You gag around his cock but he doesn’t pay any mind to that. No, Toji’s just rutting inside your mouth over and over again, grunting louder and louder now. 

Meanwhile, your hand seeks out the heat between your legs. You grind against the heel of your palm, moaning around his length. The vibration has his balls tightening up.

“Fuck!”

Hot cum bursts inside, coating the walls of your throat and your tongue. 

Toji leans back in his chair, which creaks. You pull him out, coughing at the salty burn. Damn, even his loads are big. It’s like a cream puff exploded inside your mouth. 

Hands carry you up, sitting you on his thigh. One rubs your back in circles, the other wipes away the tears at your eyes, licking at the wetness he’s collected on his thumb. “You good, kid?” he asks, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah,” you respond, voice hoarse and not fooling anyone. “I’m good.”

You take a sip of his water from his water bottle, not caring about the fact that you’re drinking from where he had been, and if he cared that your mouth which had been sucking on his dick and cum is on his cup, he didn’t say.

He sighs, tucking himself back in and says, “Come by my place tonight. Hand me your essay again and I’ll reread it. But I’m not making any promises about finding extra marks, alright? It’s just a second chance, and the only one you’ll get.”

Dopily, you smile at him. “Throat game that good, huh?”

His lips twitch. He shoves you away, smacking your ass as you walk away.

“I’ll text you the time and place. Don’t be late.”

Nodding, you head for the door, not leaving however till you ask, “Should I wear matching underwear, or is this a strictly keep your clothes on meeting?”

“Fuck off before I regret it.”

“Lacy thong it is!”

.

.

.

“Should I spread my legs now or do you want me to fluff you first?”

Toji’s deadpan face meets you when he opens the door. He sighs as though he’s regretting this already. Regardless, he lets you in. 

You can tell he showered recently — there’s the scent of cheap soap lingering on his skin and his hair is still a little damp. 

His apartment is nice and clean, which surprises you somewhat. Most guys your age tend to be messy. But you should have known the TA would be neat and organised. 

“I’m serious,” you begin, snuggling up to his side and batting your lashes up at him, “what position do you want me? I’m not the most flexible but I’m not too bad.”

Shaking you off, he pushes you in the direction of the living room where the coffee table is covered with carefully laid out papers he no doubt carried from campus to continue working on. “Go sit down, you horny gremlin. Make some room for your essay and let’s get this over with.”

You do as he says, folding your legs so you can sit by the coffee table on the rug. You take the essay out of your bag, shoving all the others to the side. With a frown, you ask, “So we’re really not fucking?”

He folds himself down too, sitting beside you, knee brushing yours. “I don’t solicit sex in exchange for academic favours. Dunno why you’re so surprised by that — can’t recall having done anything to make you think otherwise.”

“Well, you did give in after I blew you, so…”

“I was gonna offer before you did all that,” he informs you, snorting. “Just never promised to give you the marks.”

Toji adjusts his glasses, taking your papers and starting his reassessment of it. His lips purses, brows furrows, and he stares at the thing like it could tell him the answers to the universe. That or it’s so bad he just can’t fathom what you were thinking. 

“Second paragraph, third line, why the hell is it so convoluted?” he asks, voice returning to that grumpy tone you’re more than familiar with now.

It’s the latter, it would seem. He really meant business. You shaved and everything for nothing. What a shame. 

Leaning over, you rest your head on his big bicep, and, with a pout, reply, “I thought it sounded smart; I was pretty proud of that line actually.”

“No, doll,” Toji says, sighing. “The simpler the better. Don’t purposefully complicate your syntax. Only do what’s necessary to get the point across. If I, an expert in this topic, can barely understand what you mean, how is the ordinary person supposed to?”

“Yeah, okay. Simple is better, I get it.”

He continues reading, red pen in hand and making annotations as he goes. Meanwhile, you’re worming your way into his lap: one hand resting on his thigh at first, then a leg thrown over his. He notices what you’re doing — there’s no way he doesn’t know — but he doesn’t put up a fight. Eventually, you’re sitting in his lap, his chin resting on your head, and his arms caging you in. 

Toji’s warm. He’s comfy to rest on despite all the muscles. Closer now, his soapy scent envelops you. It goes straight to your head. You find yourself squirming. 

“Keep still,” he reprimands, underlining a phrase twice for emphasis. “You can’t just use jargon if you’re not going to explain it. It’s bad practice.”

“Got it.” Fiddling with his spare hand, running your fingers down his and over his palm, you ask, “Are academics supposed to have calluses?”

“They bother you or something?”

“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”

He hums. “I do odd jobs here and there, some more manual than others so yeah I built up some calluses.” Without missing a beat, he pivots the topic. “Tell me again what the difference is between compliment and complement.”

You bring that hand up to your breast, imploring him to grope your tits as you reply, “With an I is to praise someone or something, and with an e is to say something matches well with another.”

A moan escapes your lips when he squeezes in approval. Toji mutters, “Good girl. Guess you do listen to me.” Thumb brushing your hardened nipple through the thin material of your top, you squirm in his lap. His lips move against the top of your head. “No bra?”

“I figured you were going to take it off me anyway so I didn’t bother,” you say, still pressing his hand to your tit, riding the motions of every grope and flick of your nipple. 

Another hum. 

Slowly, you guide that hand down lower. He must know what you’re doing, where you want it to end up, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand or put up any resistance; he’s curious to see how far you’re willing to go. And you’re curious to see how much restraint he has, how long he can hold out before his façade of nonchalance breaks and he’s fucking up inside you.

You tease yourself, and him, first — his fingers, with your guidance, tease your bare thighs, following the hem of your tight skirt. Growing breathless, you ask, “What kind of odd jobs do you do?”

Toji’s calluses tickle the sensitive skin in your inner thighs just right. He’s still marking your paper, occasionally fact-checking your ideas and his theories in a textbook on the table. Amused, he retorts, “You curious about me, doll?”

“Hmm, I want to know exactly whose cock will be stretching me out in a minute.”

He snorts, patting your clothed pussy. You jolt with every impact. “I tutor on the side. Fix up some cars in the garage in town. I’m a physical trainer for three clients at the local gym too. And when I’m low on money, I sell risqué pictures of myself. That disgust you?”

All while he answers, Toji’s blunt nails scrape your slit through your panties. He’s not applying much pressure at all, if any, and yet every skim, every travel up and down has goosebumps rising on your skin.

“N-no,” you answer quickly. “I think that’s really cool. If I had a body like yours, I’d take pictures all the time too.”

His laughter rumbles in his chest. An odd sense of pride warms your own. He says, “Your body’s more than good enough to sell too, you know. Don’t act like you don’t know guys give you double takes all the time, or that your ass could stop traffic.”

Giggling, you lean back, gazing up at him with a smile. “Do you stare at my ass sometimes, Toji?”

God, you’re soaked. You can tell, though you’re not embarrassed whatsoever. If anything, you’re just itching for him to pull your panties to the side and touch you skin to skin, to plunge inside your pussy and make a mess out of you.

“Tell me where you can, and should, insert a semi-colon in paragraph six, and I’ll give you an honest answer.” 

He nudges you with his chin. “Go on. Quit thinking with your pussy and give me the right answer.” A little aggrieved, you sit up straight, holding his wrist to keep his hand between your legs. Your eyes scan the section. Tentatively, you point to a full stop on the second line. Toji shakes his head and smacks your clothed pussy again. “Try again, and don’t guess.”

“Here,” you snarl, feeling way past pent up. “Now give me my reward.”

Toji huffs. “Semi-colons help for varying sentence structures. It’s in the little ways you can convey your points compellingly. Don’t underutilise the right punctuations.”

“Yeah, yeah, smarty pants. Rub my clit and answer my question already.”

Cool air brushes against your swollen, glistening lips. You sigh when his warm hand covers the entire slit barely a second later. His middle fingers are instantly coated in your wetness. He groans. “Fuck, doll, you’re dripping.” Toji doesn’t give you a moment to respond to that; his fingers rub at your throbbing clit in tight circles, drawing it out of his hood. You moan, back arching. 

Finally, he answers, “I stare at your ass all the fucking time after I glare at the losers whose eyes wander from their laptop screens . I’m a big, fucking hypocrite — that what you wanna hear?”

“Fuck yes!”

Rustling of paper reaches your ears. Then two hands are on you: one furiously rubbing the bundle of nerves and the other gripping your throat. He squeezes threateningly. Your vision spots, jaw dropping. “Look at you, all desperate to have my cock inside you. And for what? For a couple marks? You’re not ashamed?”

Your ass is grinding back on his boner, sandwiching the hard thing between your cheeks as your own answer. How could you be ashamed when he wants you so bad too?

“I’m horny! Are you gonna fuck me or not?”

In a split second, you find your world spinning. Your back falls on something hard. You’re staring up at the ceiling, papers scattered beneath you. Rough hands tug you down by your thighs. When you peer down, Toji’s staring up at you from between your lips.

“Yeah, I’m fucking you. You already knew I was gonna. You gonna let me taste your pussy first?” A challenging brow quirks up, like he’s waiting for you to push him away. 

Instead, your legs hook over his shoulders, ankles crossed. You grin at him.

Panties pulled to the side, his fingers spread your pussy for him. Those eyes scan every inch. He releases a shaky breath, cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even your pussy’s pretty. Fucking gorgeous.” Running a hand through his hair, he says, “You’re always such a pain, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help that every part of me’s pretty,” you reply, twirling your hair.

“Shut up and play with your tits — I like a show with my dinner.” Toji spits a fat dollop right on your clit. It slides down your slit but before it can disappear in the crevice of your ass, his tongue is collecting it and shoving it inside your cunt. 

You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”

In spite of his aggressive tone, you pull down your top, letting your tits bounce out. Those eyes follow every jiggle. “Good girl,” he rasps. “Squeeze them for me nice and hard. Good. Real fucking good.”

His glasses are foggy now with your own humidity, rattling with every movement. He’s eating your pussy out like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything better, like he’s going to make sure not a single trace of you can be found in his apartment after he’s done with you. 

Growling, he spread your thighs wider. “Course you’ve got a sweet pussy,” he says, brows furrowing in what appears to be anger. “Course it’s sweeter than that fucking cheesecake. Course I’ll be craving you till I die.”

Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging for purchase. “Ngh, Toji, my clit…suck my clit!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Those scarred lips, the very ones you’ve stared at more times than you can count, wrap around your clit, sucking hard the way you did when you were blowing him under the desk. Electricity sparks inside, sending tremors up from your lower belly to your tits to the very tips of your fingers. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.”

Filthy squelches are being wrung out of you, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, addicted to how responsive your body is to him.

Two fingers worm their way through your pulsing hole, basking in the rough textures of your entrance, stretching your gummy walls on their way to curling against that spot that has you oozing more cum out. 

“You’re fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re gonna struggle taking all of me later.” Then he barks a laugh, spare hand pressing down on your belly where the pressure builds up. Your toes curl. “A better man would take pity on you, go slow or wait another day, but I’ve already had my tongue inside your cunt so I’ll spare you the gentleman act.”

More fingers shove in, ignoring the screech that you let out. You’ve never had more than two and yet all four of his thicker, longer fingers are inside pushing your walls to their very limits. 

Despite that, he remarks, entertained by the shock on your face which he studies through his glasses, “Suck it up, buttercup — my cock’s thicker than this, you know that.”

You do. 

It’s all you’ve been thinking about all day. Hours after, your jaw’s still stretched out, sore and creaking after the workout you put it through. The thought of having something even thicker, longer than his four fingers has you growing dizzy, head handing over the coffee table.

“Yeah, my cock can’t wait to feel you too,” Toji says, not to you but to your pussy which is squelching lewdly and loudly. “Had to resist jerking my dick raw all day so you better make it good for me.”

Is it seconds later, or minutes, maybe hours, when you cum?

How ever long it is no one can deny it’s the strongest orgasm of your life. 

Your entire body trembles, spasming beyond control. Are you screaming or silently moaning? Are your eyes shut or have you gone blind? And is he still pistoning his fingers inside you, damn near pushing all of his hand in? 

“Stop,” you cry out. “No more, please!”

Mercifully, he yanks his hand out. Unfortunately, it leaves you feeling so empty you immediately crave the feeling of his hand gripping you from inside. 

Lips and chin glistening, he kisses both inner thighs, which tremble. 

Toji gathers you with one arm, showing off his strength as he carries you off the table and to the glass door which leads out to the balcony. It’s dark out and all you can see are the lights of people’s rooms in the apartment across. There are families lounging, dogs sleeping, TV’s blaring. 

Behind you, you hear the rustling of his shirt as he throws it off carelessly. Bare skin grazes your own soon after his hands make quick work of the clothes you’re still wearing. In a flash, you’re naked. He bends down to pick up your fallen panties, inhaling the gusset deeply. Your legs cross tightly at the deeply satisfied groan he lets out. 

“Next office hour,” he starts, lazily spreading your pussy lips and smearing your juices around so he can listen to the squelches and keep your squirming, “you better leave your panties with me. Consider it payment.”

You laugh. “Sure.”

Groggily, you try to keep your head up, wondering what you’re doing by the window, still a little out of it. A hand clutches your jaw, aiding you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you against this window,” he announces, leaving no room for arguments. “You want those extra marks? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock like a champ.”

Ass gyrating back against the hot, heavy thing still confined in sweatpants, you wonder, “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”

He lets go of you. You have to catch yourself by pressing your palms to the cold glass. Toji drags your hips back, foot kicking your legs apart. His cock plops onto your ass, scalding. “No, I have a ‘get my time’s worth from shameless women who waste my time with demands for better grades by humiliating them’ kink.”

“Sounds long. We should get that shortened,” you drawl.

His cockhead slides through your pussy, coating itself in your wetness. The fat thing bumps against your clit. You shudder. 

Satisfied with your natural lubrication, he prods your entrance. “Yeah, we should. Let’s call it, Shut The Fuck Up And Take It.”

Then he enters you in one go.

You scream.

The window fogs up with your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

You’re taking so much of his length so quickly that it should be painful. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of pain, not one you didn’t like at least — only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled up is resonating. 

Toji grunts. “Almost had to fist this cunt and you’re -hah fuck- still too tight.”

Pummelling his cock in, his hips don’t pause for a second. You gasp for breath, palms slipping and sliding on the condensation that’s built up on the glass. It’s like you can feel him in your lungs, so impossibly deep, so hot, so intimidating. 

“God, it should be a crime to have a body like this,” he says, hands groping every part of your flesh he can reach. He slaps your ass to watch it jiggle for him. He’s an ass man, that much is clear.

The force of his thrusting has you pushed closer to the glass, so close now that almost your entire front is flush with the surface. The coldness grazes your nipples. You moan. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

He tugs you back to him, body sliding down the glass till your ass is jutted out. Toji carries your hips up so you can reach him, but it means your toes are only brushing the floor. You cling to the glass door as much as you can. Through the glossy haze, you see the marks you left on the glass, from the oils and sweat on your skin. You see the outline of your tits, all round and fat, the handprints you left and the smearing of them all over the place because you couldn’t grapple with one position to have them in. 

Are people watching? Are you flashing a poor old man, are you reigniting a sexual appetite in a pitiful divorcee, making a housewife jealous, creating fantasies for some guy your age? Are people rubbing one out to the flashes of ecstasy on your face, to the swaying of your tits, to the rippling of your ass?

Toji’s fingers creep under you, furiously teasing your clit. You whine. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”

“Go on, gorgeous,” he rasps. “Lemme feel you cum around my cock. Make my dreams come true.”

Two fingers gather the cream that’s formed a ring at his base. He draws three letters on the glass for you to stare at. It spells out c u m.

God, he’s dirty.

Another orgasm ripples through you. Your thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Toji!”

He growls out, hands tightening their grip on your hips, threatening to bruise, “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum early.”

Without waiting for you to come down from your high, he flips you around. Your back thuds against the door. His cock reenters you in a clean, easy slide, cunt beyond soaked and stretched out. Your arms and legs wrap around him. 

Those glasses of him have fogged up so thickly now that they fail to serve their purpose. Toji takes it off with one hand, sliding it onto your head, like a headband keeping your face clear of your hair. “Don’t let them fall,” he orders. “They break and you won’t be getting that internship.”

And his lips?

They smack against yours.

He kisses you, all tongue and teeth and drool dripping down chins, like he’s been waiting weeks, months, perhaps years to do that. And you kiss him back just the same. 

Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches. 

“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”

The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this. 

Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.

Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”

Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”

His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain. 

“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts. 

You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”

“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”

“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”

Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”

He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows. 

Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!

Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you. 

Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button. 

“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”

“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear. 

Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”

His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours. 

When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream. 

“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after. 

Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans. 

He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs. 

Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy. 

Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them. 

“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”

Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”

“Thanks!” you chirp. 

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

.

.

.

“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”

Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.

“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”

That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.

Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.

After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official. 

In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together. 

A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by. 

“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.

Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”

“Mmm.”

“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”

You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”

“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words. 

In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.

“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”

The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.

Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?

“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”

Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”

You go still, this time for a different reason. 

Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”

The bastard’s trying to distract you…

“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”

Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?

Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you. 

“Don’t mention it, Professor.”

The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants. 

He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.” 

Your jaw drops. 

Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.” 

“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.” 

The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again. 

“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.” 

Your heart? 

Drops to the fucking floor.

Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.

Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—

Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”

Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense. 

Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”

“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good. 

Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.  

Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.

“You sneaky piece of shit!”

He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.

Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”

“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”

“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.

“Whore,” he fires back.

Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.

“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.

Toji’s scar brushes your forehead with his kiss. 

“That’s the plan.”

there you were now, legs crossed, scrolling on your phone as you rode the bus home. you could feel some people’s fleeting glances your way, and hell if you didn’t enjoy it each and every time. you’d grown used to acting unbothered, biting back a smile, like you didn’t notice all the attention on you — but you clearly knew what you were doing. if you noticed a particularly pretty girl looking at you from afar, you’d innocently fan yourself, using inexistent heat as an excuse to bunch up the hair hiding your back and nape, exposing more skin for her curious gaze.

of course, you’d always act surprised and flattered when she’d later come up to ask for your number. so easy.

and right now, your next likely prey was the quite attractive woman sitting in front of you. even though you pretended to be busy on your phone, you were hyperaware of her eyes on you. well, more specifically, on your tits.

you didn’t mind— hell, you even slightly leaned forward to accentuate your cleavage. after all, she was hot; buff arms resting behind her head, white tank top snug against her abs, long dark tousled hair, sweatpant-clad legs spread wide enough to bother the men on her sides. a potential fling.

you waited for a good while, but she made no move on you yet. she was just ogling you! ogling so hard that it was pretty difficult to act like you didn’t notice it.

that pissed you off. sure, you liked attention, but this was just a pervert. her eyes were drilling holes into your chest, and she didn’t even bother to glance up at your face once!

you decided to go for another approach, this time looking up at her yourself. maybe if you gave her attention first, she’d get embarrassed and properly hit on you or something.

you gave her one of your sultry smiles, tilting your head to further expose the delicate slope of your shoulder — then your eye twitched. she was still staring at your tits!

you huffed, now flustered, and sat up straight, pulling your top up so she could get the hint and drop it. jesus, did she have no shame?

her gaze lingered, and you felt your blood boil. what the fuck was her problem?

“stop staring, weirdo,” you finally barked, crossing your arms over your chest. that earns absolutely no answer from her, her eyes still stubbornly set on the swell of your breasts. seriously??

you scoffed, “hey, i said stop staring!” your voice raised up a notch, making some heads turn towards you. and even then, she did not budge. oh, that was it.

you got up from your seat, glaring down at her, “i’m talking to you, you fucking pervert. i said, stop staring at me!”

her eyes fluttered into a soft blink, her attention piqued, but she did not address you yet. by now, everybody was watching the scene unfold, and the embarrassment of being the only one speaking had heat creeping up your cheeks.

“stop acting so oblivious, you— you— you weirdo!” you stammered, anger rolling off you in hot waves, stepping closer to crowd the wide open space between her legs.

she looks up at you — well, more like at your chest again. you swore you felt a blood vessel burst in your brain right now. “are you talking to me?” she asks at last, voice low and genuine, casually making conversation with your tits.

“o-of course you! fucking pervert!” you scowled, voice cracked and high-pitched; all eyes were on you now. if there was one thing you hated more than perverts, it was the shameless ones who didn’t even try to hide it.

did she just expect you to be one of those shy scared girls who’ll just take it? wrong fucking person.

“you’re such a pig! i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you can’t just leer at a random girl’s boobs for the whole ride, then act all dumb— ah ah!” you interrupt her when her lips part, seemingly about to protest.

“no! i know what you’re gonna say. you think because i’m dressed like this, so slutty and revealing, it’s fine to look at me however you want?” you scoff, jabbing your finger into her chest harshly. “well that’s not how it works, you fucking sicko. and just because you’re a woman doesn’t make it any less creepy. the way i dress is not an invitation to sexually harass me, no matter how attractive i am.”

she frowns, mouth opening again, “but i—”

“nuh-uh— don’t even try!” you cut her off again, giving her another shove, “now that i exposed you, you’re going to play the confused victim? where was your shame when your eyes were literally stripping me naked a few seconds ago? or do you only remember it when you get caught, huh?”

a heavy silence filled the bus when you finished your loud rant. you were almost panting, heart thudding hard enough to shatter your ribs, hands shaky with nervousness and irritation. you weren’t just going to let this shit slide.

she stayed quiet until she was sure you had nothing left to say, then lazily scratched her head. “… i’m blind.”

…

that was one hell of a slap in the face. you expected many things to leave her mouth, but never could you have possibly predicted this one.

all the passengers immediately started whispering, many throwing you dirty looks and pitying the unbothered woman before you. you clenched your fists, chewing at your bottom lip, digging crescent shapes into your hands. you wished the bus would just crash right now to relieve you from this humiliation. you didn’t even know what to do or say in this situation.

“i—” you started, a guilty frown tugging at your features, still standing between her spread thighs, “i-i didn’t—”

she only cooed, sweetly waving you off, “aw, you didn’t know. that’s okay, no need to apologize. maybe next time, hold your horses and don’t be such a self-centered little bitch right off the bat, hm?”

you blinked. what?

“excuse me?”

“you’re excused.”

your brows furrowed, defensive again, “i’m not any of that. h-how was i supposed to know your intentions? all i saw was that you were ogling me! my reaction was warranted.”

she sighed, shaking her head like you were some disobedient child, “i told you i’m blind, and you still won’t take responsibility for the trouble you caused? just how entitled are you? all this ruckus over your tits. if i actually had sight and wanted to see some that bad, i sure as hell wouldn’t stare at yours. i don’t know why you think you’re such a hot shot.”

“i—!” you felt your cheeks flush at the quiet snickers around you, nails sinking deeper into your palms. “i-i’m not—”

she smiled, smug and taunting, and nudged your leg with her knee, “it’s okay. just save yourself the embarrassment, and go sit back down, yeah? the bus is still moving, you could trip.”

this wasn’t fair, at all. you felt tears pricking at your eyes. this wasn’t your fault! how were you supposed to know that she was blind!? this is how any normal person would react to a pervert! you wanted to argue further, somehow salvage this whole thing, but at the end of the day, you were the one at fault. you made a scene, and these were the consequences.

“i-i know i made a mistake,” you swallowed, trying to steel yourself, “but you don’t have the right to insult me. i didn’t do this on purpose, i didn’t know.”

“aw,” she crooned, her smile widening, “too bad. if you can make assumptions about me, then so can i. oh no, are you going to cry?”

that pulled a muffled sob out of you. you frantically rubbed at your eyes, mortified, “n-no i’m not! i.. i understand i was wrong, i just—”

“then sit.” she spat as she leaned back against her seat, looking bored. “if you know you’re wrong, shut up and get a move on. you’re bothering me.”

the longer this went on, the more of a spectacle you made of yourself. you could even hear phones being pulled out of bags, some discreetly recording the whole ordeal. this was definitely going into the list of embarrassing moments you’ll think of every night for the rest of your life.

“.. sorry,” you mumbled before deciding on sitting back down, refusing to look up from your lap. your fingers curled around the fabric of your skirt, deeply upset, as you tried ignoring the jokes circulating around you.

you counted the agonizingly long seconds left until you got home.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

the second the bus read out your stop, you instantly got up, excusing yourself as you squirmed through the gaps between the leaving passengers, desperate to get away as quickly as possible.

you finally hopped off with a relieved sigh, adjusting your clothes, face still red with shame. ugh, whatever, everybody in that bus will eventually forget about you anyway, and it’s not like you were going to see her again. no use dwelling on it.

you adjusted the heel strap that had been painfully digging into your calf, then started walking to your house.

“well well, if it isn’t jingle bells.” you squealed at the sudden voice pitching up behind you, startled, quickly turning back to face them — too quickly — only to end up tripping over yourself. you forgot you were wearing your seven inch platform heels.

the abrupt movement caused you to plop down right on your butt, as a god awful pain licked up your now probably twisted ankle to your spine, earning a loud wail from you.

“.. what the hell?” this time, you looked up at the source of the low voice. of course, what were the chances? there she was, her hands deep in the pockets of her sweats, her sightless eyes set on some place over your shoulder. “you’re so jumpy.”

you scoffed, rubbing at your ankle, “what do you want? i already said sorry, leave me alone.”

“so, you live around here too?”

a vein bulged through your forehead. why was she acting like nothing happened?

“yeah. wow, that’s great. same stop. i’m so happy.” you grumbled sarcastically, taking off your shoe to properly inspect the bruise.

she stayed quiet as you felt around the throbbing skin, biting back pained whimpers.

“is this entertaining to you?” you asked after a few minutes of her silently looming over you while you tended to your sprain.

she hummed, not moving an inch, “not really.”

“how did you even recognize me? aren’t you blind?”

“please, you sound like a fucking christmas tree when you walk. you’re a blind person’s dream.”

“…shut up.”

you exhaled, almost done. you just needed some sort of cloth to wrap it up nice and tight.. you reached for your ridiculously tiny bag, opening it, but oh who were you kidding— when did you ever carry anything other than lip gloss?

“need something?” she chimed in, picking up on the sound of your irritated rummaging.

“ugh, i just want some cloth or tissue to wrap around my foot, but i don’t have anything on me. all i carry with me are useless, useless things. always. seriously, why do i do that?”

she quietly listened to your continued rambling as you pressed down on your ankle with your own hands, when the sound of fabric ripping reached your ears. the moment you decided to lift your head, a torn white piece of cloth landed right on your face.

“it should do,” she casually put her hands back in her pockets. you grabbed it off your eyes, looking up at her, and noticed the wide tear on her tank top. and her now deliciously exposed abs.

you cleared your throat, and for a moment you were glad she was blind and couldn’t see how distracted you were by her muscles (after that whole fight about her “leering”.. talk about hypocrisy.) “t-thank you, you didn’t have to.”

she shrugged, “you’re miserable. just doing charity work.”

could she not be normal for one minute? you sighed, setting your protests to the side for now, grateful for the help, and wrapped the obtained fabric over your swollen flesh.

“what street are you on?”

“oh,” you looked behind you, pointing at the small alley to your right, “that one.”

she huffed, unamused, “i’m blind.”

“oh, right.” you blushed, “i live next to betty’s bakery.”

she grinned, leaning down, “i’m always at betty’s bakery.”

and just like that, right there in the middle of the street, as if the past hour didn’t happen at all, you bonded over chocolate pastries.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

the cold pavement was starting to freeze your poor butt, especially with how tiny your skirt was, so you shifted on your hands and knees, cautiously getting up.

“son of a bitch!” you cursed when you let your injured foot touch the floor, a hot sting rippling through your limb, causing you to immediately lift it off again. you rested your hand on her shoulder for balance, standing on your one good leg.

her hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, “careful, ankle sprains hurt like hell.” she feels around the ground to find your discarded heel and picks it up as well, “especially with shoes this big. jesus, why do you even need this? has to be height-fishing.”

you scoffed, “that’s not even a word.”

“well, it should be. just for you, actually.”

“shut up. they’re cute platforms and— ah!” you yelped as you felt your entire body get swept up in the air. her right arm hooked under your lower back, picking you up bridal style with ease, using only one hand, while she held your shoe with her free one.

“woah,” she squeezed your bare thigh, a sly smirk tugging at her lips, “you really are wearing nothing. no wonder you thought i was ogling you.”

“y—you—” you felt all your words melt into goo, growing redder as you stammered, feeling her buff, thick forearms curl against your naked flesh. your brain short-circuited.

“hold on tight,” she added, adjusting you in her grasp to slot you perfectly against her chest, then began walking. “watch my steps for me though. i can carry you, but i sure as hell can’t see where i’m going.”

that snapped you out of your stupor with a small chuckle, nervously wrapping your arms around her neck, “alright, thanks.”

you clung to her, a pleasant silence settling between you both, the only sound filling the background being the clinking of your bangles.

“you’re not that much of a bitch, jingle bells.” she finally spoke, a smug smile on her face.

you breathed out a laugh, “and you’re not a pervert, i guess.”

she chuckled, giving your ass an approving squeeze.

you rolled your eyes, “or maybe you are.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

* mm.. the dillema.. make it a series or not.. maybe.. maybe not..

part 2 here!!

“Well,” You roll your eyes over to your left and make contact with Choso’s curious pupils, one of his brows quirking just barely over the reading glasses sitting center at the bridge of his tattooed nose. “We’ve been at it for like two hours with no break.” You explain to the duo.

Gojo slips a notably scarred hand up to the bridge of his glasses and gives them the faintest push upward along his sharp nose. It was such a subtle adjustment and yet even more of your attention was captured anyway. Which is why you look back over to him and nearly flinch at the instant eye contact.

Those cerulean eyes of his are as sharp as ever as they scan over the entirety of your face. Gojo’s got scratches and scars all over his face, trailing down to his neck, and it makes you wonder what the hell he’s doing outside of class…

“We took a break earlier, no?” He asked, tipping his head further to the side to meet eyes with Choso for a hot second.

The brunette shrugs in agreement, “Pretty sure we did.”

Then both of them look at you and you sink back into your chair, crossing your arms over one another and searching the counter ahead for something-, anything else to settle your gaze onto instead of them. You felt like you were being stripped of every flimsy fabric clinging to your person and neither of them had even done anything aside from look at you, expecting some kind of logical explanation to come from you any moment now.

Though, you didn’t exactly have one. What are you supposed to say? ‘Oh, I can’t focus because both of you smell and look ridiculously good.’ As if.

Instead, you reply to them with a shrug of your own and lift your eyes upward in thought, “The break wasn’t long enough,” You explain with an irritated exhale. “All this studying is overworking my brain.”

Poking his lower lip out a bit, Gojo tuts, “Hmph. So, you wanna do something else?”

Your head turns to him and you blink. “Like what?”

A shade of pink instantly coats his cheeks and now he’s the one finding something on the table to focus his eyes on, “W-Well I dunno, I didn’t exactly have anything in mind…”

You let off a scoff and then quickly turn over to your left.

“Don’t look at me, I’m not the one who needed a break or suggested we do anything else.” Choso quickly breathes out before dropping his eyes to the book in front of him.

And this is exactly what you dealt with almost every other day for the past few weeks—both of them getting weirdly shy at the most absurd moments. It never made any sense to you. You didn’t even do anything; why were they the shy ones? Perhaps it was because they were in your apartment this time? Who knows.

With a sassed roll of your eyes, you push to stand up, “Well, you two should go ahead ‘n leave then...”

“What?” Gojo’s heard gasping dramatically as his head lifts to trail your every movement with his cerulean gaze, “But you have four hours with us.” 

Then, before you could even try to get any sort of reply out past your lips, here comes Choso, lightly nudging you on your leg with the end of his pencil as he too looks up at you, “Yeah, you can’t just tap out on us halfway through.” 

His words ring throughout the air for a hot second before you slowly look at him with perked brows, eyes searching his own for a direct clarification regarding the context in which he meant that.

Gulping, a shade of red coats the tips of his ears as he quickly turns his head to the side, “I-I don’t mean it like that, I just…”

While his words fade off, Gojo comes back in and suavely keeps up with whatever vibe had just entered the atmosphere between you three just now. “He could mean it like that if you wanted him to though,” He says with a shrug while leaning back against his rather uncomfortable stool.

Choso chokes and his doe-like brown eyes frantically fawn over to his tutoring partner, “What—” 

“Seriously?” You breathe out, glancing back and forth between the two.

Both of them lock eyes with one another before redirecting their eyes back to you. Gojo’s got a smirk on his face but Choso looks nervous.

A soft exhale leaves Gojo’s nose and he leans up, moving to rest his head against his knuckles as he props his arm up against the countertop—glasses slipping down a bit with his movements, “Why do you look interested?” 

You focus on him for a second and you think your brain begins to lag, “I-I’m not—”

“Oh.” Choso hums, sounding almost disappointed.

You redirect back over to him, “No, I mean-, oh my God,” Your eyes roll and you lift a single hand to wipe over your face, “Can you guys not do this?”

“Do what?” They ask in sync.

With an almost defeated sigh, you simply plop back down into your seat. It’s almost annoying how they can be so hot and yet so clueless at the same time. Or perhaps they were just pretending to be oblivious, who knows.

“Tappin’ back in?” Gojo teases, earning a glare from you. To which his lips curve up into a smirk and his eyes lower a little, “So you really are interested then?” 

Well, it’s not like you ever said you weren’t, right? Honestly, look at the two guys for a second. Who wouldn’t be interested? On one hand, you have Gojo Satoru, a staggering six feet three inches tall, as clumsy as they come, eyes bluer than the Pacific, hair as soft ‘n fluffy as ever, and above all else; as sexy as a man could ever be.

Then… there was Choso. The complete opposite in terms of aesthetics. Long dark hair, chocolatey brown eyes, an inked face, a bit less clumsy but definitely looks shy as hell, and of course, just as handsome as your other tutor.

And of course, they both wore these annoyingly whorish frames—you weren’t sure if they were even prescribed or not but either way, the display of those slutty glasses resting so perfectly on both of their faces did nothing more than intrigue you to no end. Which is why you always leave these sessions feeling oh so distracted. 

Eventually, you sigh and move to pull out your phone, checking the time briefly. “We have two hours left, right?” You ask softly.

“Sure do,” Choso replies, a sudden confidence sparking within his tone.

“Okay, so… let’s say I am interested,” You suggest with a gentle voice, the sound almost careful as you glance between the two guys. Their entire undivided attention was focused solely on you and fuck was it just as nerve-wracking as any other time they stared at you in sync. “...Now what?”

It’s quiet for a few beats, as if both men were trying to process what you just said and wrap their minds around it. The fact that your question came out so genuine took them both by surprise, despite their teasing.

Gojo’s the first to crack the silence since he’s the one who’s been egging this on the most, “Wait, w-what?” He stammers all of a sudden, trying not to flinch out of nervousness when you focus on him, and clearing his throat afterwards.

You lean toward him and crack a smirk. He’s kinda cute when he’s nervous, you could practically read it all over his face that he wasn’t expecting you to agree, “You heard me. I asked what happens now that I am interested?”

“Oh, I was uh,” He averts his eyes elsewhere, “I was just fuckin’ with you…”

Your expression falls flat, and you almost immediately grow irritated by the way he led you on like that. “Really? But, you were just so confident a few seconds ago,” The way you’re still looking directly at him is making this bothersome wave of heat creep up against his neck, blood rushing to his cheeks again as he unknowingly blushes, hard. “What happened, Satoru?”

“Please,” Gojo breathes out, clearing his throat to hide the near-submissive tone he’d just taken, “Don’t… don’t say my name like that.”

You blink. “Like what?”

Grumbling something beneath his breath, Gojo turns his head to look past you and at Choso—as if to silently request his help. Choso meets his gaze instantly and then your head turns back to the brunette, who feels his breath hitching in his throat with the intimidating eye contact you greet him with.

“What?” You breathe out, trying to figure out why both of them keep looking at each other like that. “One second you two are teasing me but then when I wanna go through with it, you both back out. Why?”

Bashfully, Choso moves a calloused hand to scratch at the back of his neck, “It was just some harmless teasing, we didn’t expect you to uhm… Well, I didn’t think you’d actually be interested.”

“Me neither,” Gojo throws in, “I just saw that look on your face and started saying whatever came to mind…”

You turn to him, “What look?”

A lump is suddenly caught in his throat and for whatever reason, talking to you is so hard now that he knows you’re interested in pressing forward with all the teasing. “It’s in your eyes,” He murmurs to you, “You start looking away from us and then your tone softens as if you’re afraid to get the words out—like you’re afraid to let us hear you.”

Batting your lashes at the man, you can’t help but sit there and stare at him all dumbfoundedly. He… pays attention to you that much? This is the same guy who was just blushing like an idiot two seconds ago, right?

“Y-Yeah,” Of course Choso’s throwing his two cents in next, as if he only gains confidence after Gojo says something worth piggybacking off of. “But then you’ll do that thing with your eyes and look at us like you wanna…”

“Wanna what?” You press. You were finally getting somewhere with this. It seemed like acting clueless here would be your best bet.

He rolls his shoulders back a bit in an attempt at maintaining his confidence before just barely meeting your expectant eyes, “You give this, like, seductive look. Like you wanna eat us alive, and not in a cannibalistic way.”

Snorting, you can’t help but break out a smile at that. “You can just say I look at you like I wanna fuck, y’know.”

His head turns away entirely, and you catch just how reddened his ears are.

“...It’s a bit intimidating,” Gojo tells you, “I prefer the other way you look at me.”

You go to turn back to him, but just as you do, you’re met with him standing now, towering over you in a way that makes you feel small—despite the pink still decorating that angelic face of his.

Gojo leans down a little to you and tilts his head, “Like that, I like that expression.”

You simply gape up at him, “Why?”

You can see his confidence faltering a bit once your question hits his ears but, he's trying… “Well,” Gojo lets his eyes trail along your face before shrugging, giving his best attempt at sounding like he knows what he’s doing. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah?” You suddenly purr, making him want to fall to his knees before you all over again. One change in your tone, and he’s ready to adhere to your every wish and desire in the blink of an eye. 

You open your mouth to tease him some more but the sound of your chair moving against the floor behind you makes you angle your head back to see Choso standing and drawing himself closer to the two of you. “That’s not fair,” He pouts a little, leaning in closer to you. “I wanna see the expression Satoru gets to see.”

It can be a bit overwhelming to have two hot guys standing so close to you like this, both gazing at you as if your every faint facial shift was the thread holding together their very lifeline. Slowly, Choso moves a hand around to tip your head back to him fully and his body grazes your backside in the process.

Whispering, “Is this it, Satoru?” Choso asks.

Gojo tilts his head a little more to get a better look at the way you’re holding eyes with Choso and then he nods, “Yeahh, that’s the look.”

You gulp and Choso lets a hum vibrate deep against his throat, “Then you’re right,” His fingers start slipping down your jawline and to your neck as he leans in a little more, “It is hot.”

Gojo lifts a careful hand next and finds his fingers taking your chin into his hold and pulling your attention back to him. “Hey,” He coos, “Don’t forget about me, yeah?”

You swallow thickly. You could feel Choso creeping even closer behind you, the tip of his nose soon grazing the side of your neck while Gojo remained in front of you—staring down at your lips completely unashamed.

“You said you were interested, right?” Gojo asks, closing whatever distance remained between his frame and your own.

You could feel your body heating up already just from finding yourself sandwiched in between the two guys like this. How did you end up here again…?

You nod, just barely. “Yeah, but are the two of you just teasing me again or…” Gojo slips the tip of his thumb up to trace the outline of your lower lip and you almost forget to finish your statement. “Or are you ready to follow through this time?”

“Depends,” Gojo cracks a smirk you’ve never seen on him before and then weighs himself close enough so that his minty breath is tickling the skin of your lips, “Do you want us to follow through?”

Before giving you the chance to reply to that, Choso slithers his touch down to your waist and gives you a featherlight squeeze, “You really wanna know how long you can last with us before tapping out?” He asks shyly, referring to the earlier statement that started this whole thing, “Y’know we’re not gonna let you give up halfway through.”

Gulping, “I think…” Suddenly, your hands start moving, and you place one overtop of Choso’s, and the other slips up a bit to tug on Gojo’s blue cardigan. “Both of you should have a little more faith in me.”

And then you’re pushing your lips against Gojo’s and he’s letting out a whorish moan into your mouth—both caught off guard and relieved at the sensation of finally getting to feel the same lips he shamefully stares at during every study session. You kiss the man like you’re hungry for him and it makes his knees weak in seconds, mind spinning at the reality of finally being able to kiss you.

When you do pull away, it’s only to quickly turn your head back to Choso and crash your lips onto his, readjusting your hands against both of them to tug them closer to you by their shirts.

While your lips work against Choso’s, he’s letting off this whine into your mouth as if he’d never been touched before—especially with the way you were holding onto his shirt to keep him from pulling away. All as Gojo angles his focus to your neck and feels your own little groans vibrating against your throat in the midst of receiving double the attention.

Gojo fights the urge to pull your lips back to his own and you feel his mouth spread over your skin just mere seconds before he bites down. In surprise, you end up gasping in Choso’s mouth and he uses that as an opportunity to slip his tongue in. In that moment you felt like you needed some kind of control here.

Choso was pushing deeper into your mouth and Gojo was leaving marks all over your neck. Naturally, you let your hand reach down and grab the twitching bulge Gojo’s been hiding for far too long now. At that, he snatches his mouth away from your neck with a reddened face and a hitched gasp.

His lashes bat and he lets his eyes fall to your hand that’s trailing the outline of his hard cock. “Fuck,” Gojo breathes, falling right back into your neck and letting his hips rock into your hand while you touch him. 

Your other arm wraps around Choso’s neck and you feel him smile into the kiss for only a split second and then his hand meets your throat to keep you from pulling away this time. Gojo adjusts slightly and presses small kisses into your shoulder before moving as far as to kiss Choso’s fingers.

It’s only because of that as to why you feel Choso’s hand leave you and he finally breaks the kiss. When your eyes open, you find Choso’s eyes focused just past you and your head oh-so-curiously turns just to see Gojo sucking on the tip of his thumb now. You unintentionally squeeze his cock through the layers of his clothing and Gojo’s moans before parting his lips and taking Choso’s thumb into his mouth fully.

“Shit,” Choso whispers, pressing the pad of his thumb against Gojo’s tongue to watch the unbelievably slutty expression the man makes in reaction.

In the midst of that, you let your hand pull away from Gojo’s crotch and try to slide it past his waistband. Just when the faintest bit of your fingers graze his bare skin, he tugs his mouth away from Choso’s hand and turns right into you to distract you with another kiss.

While his lips run over yours, he takes your wrist and instead guides you over toward Choso, who takes your hand and drags it down his body until you reach his erection. “I need your attention too, y’know,” He comments, feeling the way you respond by running your hand over his outline just like you did with Gojo.

Though, it almost seemed like you were trying to feel the difference between the two. Especially with the way you smile into your current kiss.

The moment you do, Gojo tugs away and scoffs. “You’re having too much fun with this,” He whispers.

Choso’s lightly pressing his hips into your palm but he’s nodding, “Way too much fun.” He adds on.

Despite their collective realization, both of the men are panting and blushing a bit more than they even realize. They both look as though this is the most they’ve felt of a woman in forever and the mix of starvation and desperation in their eyes is driving you insane.

You open your mouth to say something against their claims but Gojo speaks before you can, “You can feel how badly we want it but..”

Choso picks up right where Gojo leaves off, “Makes’ us wonder how worked up all this has you.”

You’re swallowing something down before you even realize you are, probably nerves as you feel your face heat up. You think you liked them both a little bit more when they were the nervous ones. Taking a deep breath, “I–”

“Show us,” Gojo cuts off.

To which Choso leans closer, “Please?”

——

It never takes much for you and you weren’t exactly the strongest soldier.

Only a few moments later and you find yourself in your living room with the two men now, in quite the position, as well.

Now sitting in Gojo's lap as he holds your legs open, you watch with heavy batted breath as Choso lowers himself down onto his knees in between your perfectly parted thighs.

Gojo's fingers soothe over the inner parts of your legs, watching the way your cunt twitches cutely against the soddened fabric of your panties and he chuckles. His warm breath tickles your ear and you're already squirming against him, "Looks like you've been cravin' this for a while now, huhh?" He utters behind the shell of your ear.

Your jaw falls open a little and all you can do is gasp at the feeling of Choso hooking his eager fingers around the lace of your panties and giving the fabric a polite tug, soon revealing your gorgeous cunt to both of their greedy eyes.

"She had to have been," Choso hums as his eyes rake over the slick dribbling so prettily out of your pulsing pussy. You just barely catch the way he stuffs your panties into his pockets before leaning in close and taking a strong inhale of your scent.

You shift in Gojo's lap again and he chuckles, "That was kinda hot, wasn't it?" He asks you. The worst thing about the situation you've found yourself in has to be the fact that you felt the wild jump of Gojo's lengthy cock under the curve of your ass.

Turning your head away, you let off another sigh, "Y-Yeah, I guess..." You murmur, earning a scoff from Gojo.

Suddenly a hand is meeting your jaw and he's turning your head back into place, "Don't do that, bring back the confidence you had earlier. C'mon, tell Cho' how pretty he looks down there, won't you?"

Choso gulps at the sound of that and his eyes so gently flick up to you, the natural plea that rests so perfectly in those dark brown pupils of his making your body react with another filthy drip of arousal. Then the brunette has the nerve to give you this innocent lil tilt of his head and you swear you can feel a sense of cockiness oozing off of him all of a sudden.

Your lips spread to try and follow Gojo's instructions but you get a bit distracted by the way Choso turns to kiss your inner thigh, trailing said kisses up until his lips are grazing over your drooling cunt.

And of course, seeing all of this, Gojo only wants to make things all the more difficult for you so he leans into your neck and kisses you too. Then his hands pull your legs up a bit more, forcing you to spread open even further. At that, Choso moves in and quickly latches his lips onto your folds, giving them one firm suck to taste.

Gojo's tongue is felt darting out against the skin of your neck and you swear your entire body is on fire right now. The moan that leaves your throat as Choso begins to drag his tongue lazily between your soaked hole and as Gojo redirects his hands up to your tits is rather pathetic.

You'd forgotten all about the little direction Gojo had given you and all you could focus on was the way Choso's mouth felt clinging onto your pussy as if it were the sweetest taste to ever hit his tongue and the way Gojo rolled and pinched your nipple in between his fingers, pressing hot kisses all into the side of your neck simultaneously.

It was too much attention in too many places all at once. And that was just the foreplay.

Soon, Gojo is messily unbuttoning your shirt and exposing your tits to the confined study room, grabbing a handful of your breasts and fondling them against his palms before his voice meets your ears again.

“I wonder how many of these tutoring sessions you’ve spent imagining this,” He whispers, tipping his head to the side a bit to get a good look at the rather starved Choso in between your legs. “All those times you were in a daze, is this what you were thinking about? Having us like this?”

Choso’s lips pry away from you and he quickly replaces them with a rude thrust of his two fingers into your squelching cunt, your arousal dripping all messily off of his skin as he lifts his head and focuses on your expression.

He watches the way you struggle to get out words instead of moans and it only makes the corner of his lips twitch. 

You let out a bated breath and both men are hanging off every sound and syllable that’s leaving your lips, “N-No, I… fuck, I’ve never-”

Choso curls his thick fingers against your sopping walls and tilts his head innocently at you, “Don’t lie now. Surely you didn’t get this wet from a couple of kisses,” He hums, voice a pitch deeper than you remember. This time when you look at him, you can’t help but notice the bit of fog building up on the bottom edge of his glasses.

Your back arches up from Gojo’s chest a bit and you could practically hear him smiling behind you. “I think she did, Cho.” He chuckles right next to your ear.

Watching Choso’s fingers dive in and out of you, you’re left sitting there forced to listen to the two exchange words as if you’re not even there. Choso merely takes his free hand and pushes his frames higher up onto his tattooed nose bridge before flashing a wet smile, “Yeah? Think’ she’s that sensitive?”

Gojo lets his hands meet your legs and he stretches you out even wider, grinning, “Mhm, look at her. Falling apart over just your fingers.” He teases before turning his head to kiss the side of your face.

Your mouth was busy opening and closing every few seconds but the only sound that actually escaped your throat was one pathetic moan after the other. 

Catching sight of this, Choso pouts as if he were mocking you, “She can’t even speak, aww.” He coos with a hypnotic curl of his fingers inside you, letting them caress spots you swear you could never reach on your own.

This time you let out a groan and your head falls back on one of Gojo’s shoulders, “Don’t… patronize me.. ah-, assholes.” You just barely manage out.

To which Choso scoffs, “She says while moaning.”

“Shut up.” You huff right back at him.

And then of course Gojo comes right back to your ear, whispering, “Shut him up, sweetheart.” Before moving his hand to yours and directing your fingers back into the dark tresses of Choso’s hair.

You feel the man’s digits falter inside you at the touch alone and a small gasp slips past his lips the moment he feels you grasping at his hair and forcing him back down in between your legs. The next thing you feel is his tongue on your clit again, greeting it with a needy lather of drool and one messy flick as if he belonged exactly there.

 “There you go, atta’ girl.” Gojo’s voice is hitting you again and his hand leaves your own, “Doesn’t that feel so much better?”

You’re nodding almost dumbly for a second, mumbling a hardly coherent, “Uhuh.” Before Choso starts spelling something out with his tongue while his fingers are busy drawing out the messiest of squelches from your cunt.

Not that you ever get time to focus on only one thing with these two though, “And what about me?” Gojo starts once more, his hands at your sides now—trailing up, “Will I get the same treatment if I keep talking, hm?”

You scoff, “You’d like that too much.”

He rolls his eyes and then nods his chin at Choso, “And you think he doesn’t?”

“He-,” Just as you’re about to work out some sort of argument to that, though you’re not sure what, Choso drags his fingers out of you and quickly replaces them with the entirety of his mouth. He lets out a heavy groan against you and you lose all train of thought. “Oh fuck, right there..”

Gojo, ever the drama king, starts frowning. His hands are busy fondling your tits now but he’s far too greedy for that to give him any sort of satisfaction in all this, “I’m starting to feel left out, y’know.” He tells you.

You glance at him and with only one look into your eyes, he could tell you were far too wrapped up in pleasure to manage out any sort of solution to that. Even so, you do try to get something out even with your voice wavering with moans, “Satoru, I–”

“Are you now?” Choso’s heaving out all of a sudden.

The man who was just on the verge of locking his jaw trying to get more of your taste down his throat quickly receives the attention of both of you. He’s licking at his lips and you quickly notice how his eyes are trained entirely on Gojo like he was about to be his next object of starvation.

You hear the way Gojo gulps and his voice is almost quieter, “Just a little, yeah.”

Nodding, Choso leans down one more time to sloppily kiss your dewy pussy, “Mh.” He hums before sitting almost all the way up, “C’mere then.”

“W-What?” Gojo stammers, your tits still in his palms.

“I said come here.” The brunette repeats more sternly.

Maybe you imagined this part but you swear you feel Gojo’s cock jump against your ass. And before he can even try to move, the impatient Choso is already leaning up toward the two of you and taking Gojo’s jaw in one hand—the other not failing to make up for the lack of his mouth with two fingers diving right back into you. Brows furrowed and pout ever-so-present on your face, you watch closely as Choso presses his lips into Gojo’s.

Then, Gojo’s hips roll upward to grind into you slightly as Choso shares your taste with him. 

The kiss they share is absolutely nasty and depraved on both ends. Choso’s tongue is sinking into Gojo’s mouth and you hear both of them groaning against one another. You sit there, quite literally in between the two, watching the way Gojo’s drooling into it and the way their lips glide over one another sensationally.

Choso’s fingers trash at your insides with each second his lips remain on the man behind you and you eye the way he swallows up every slutty sound that washes out of Gojo’s throat.

By the time they finally pry away from one another, you think you’ve just about soaked the entirety of Gojo’s lap. 

The brunette lets out a pant and you think this is the most confident you’ve seen him since-, well, ever. “Still feeling left out, pretty boy?” He asks softly. Gojo shakes his head, cheeks as flushed out as ever, and Choso lets out a scoff. Then he glances down at his fingers and slips them out of you just to smile at the sight. “Good because someone here really enjoyed that.”

“Hm?” Gojo hums lightly, letting his eyes follow Choso’s. As he sees the sheer mess you’ve left all over Choso’s hand, he laughs breathlessly. “Ohh, you liked that huh?”

And just like that you were right back where this all started, in between the two of them and unable to focus on anything. This time, instead of studying, it was the raw attention and focus you were receiving from the two of them at the same time that made your brain feel all numb.

All you could do was nod, refusing to open your mouth in fear of whatever sinful noise was destined to pour out of you.

“Of course you did.” Gojo comments. 

Choso lets out a little hum of his own and pulls away from both you and Gojo, “Good thing we’re not done with you yet.” He says before diving his fingers past his lips and licking off the mess you’d left there.

You hear Gojo gulp behind you, “...We’re not?”

To which Choso cocks a brow, “Don’t you wanna taste directly from the source? Bet’ you she’s even sweeter after she cums.”

——

And that’s roughly how you end up where you are now—lying back flat against the couch with Gojo getting his taste of you. One could argue that he’s a far messier eater than Choso is and in a way, that’s almost better.

If you thought Choso had you losing your mind, you think Gojo’s a little bit worse. Especially since he spent all that time waiting and watching. Gojo’s breath mingles hotly into the drooling folds of your cunt and he only uses a single hand to keep you spread open for his tongue to work against you.

Not only is he messier but he’s also nastier, pulling away for only seconds just to let a fat glob of spit trickle down in between your slit. And after each time, you’d watch the way he flashes this drunken smile before diving right back in.

Choso, also not wanting to be forgotten, has been busy holding your legs open and whispering softer praises into your ear. He’d taunt you with murmurs of, “Whose tongue do you like better?” and, “You’re so loud. Does it really feel that good?”

Each question goes pretty much unanswered since you’re too busy moaning and writhing around Gojo’s tongue but at some point Choso gets a bit jealous. You had enough energy to respond to Gojo before when he was talking to you.

Hence why Choso slides a hand down and starts thumbing at your clit in a slight attempt at gaining your attention again. Does it work? Not really since you feel Gojo sliding his mouth up and kissing both Choso’s recently added thumb and your clit at the same time.

The motion seems to catch Choso off guard and he glances down at Gojo, “C-Can’t you focus on one thing at a time?” He unintentionally stammers.

Instead of answering, Gojo takes that greedy mouth of his and angles it further onto Choso’s thumb before it slips past his lips and into his mouth completely. Before you could whine at the abrupt loss of attention where you were currently making a mess of your couch—Gojo’s multitasking and shoving two long fingers inside you.

Both you and Choso have the same flushed reaction as you two watch Gojo put on the sluttiest little show. His other hand meets Choso’s wrist and he starts sucking on his thumb as if he were needy for something more all whilst scissoring his digits against your sappy walls.

Choso opens his mouth to say something but he’s cut off by Gojo pulling away from his thumb all of a sudden, “If you wanted my attention so badly, you should’ve just asked for it.” He calls out, tilting his head a little, “Y’know, instead of getting in the way of my meal.”

You glance up at Choso and watch the way his face reddens as he snatches his hand away from Gojo. “I-I didn’t–”

Choso’s cut off again, this time by watching Gojo lower his mouth to you once again and give your pussy the lewdest slurp as he suckles your taste into his mouth. Gojo looks down and watches the way your body spasms in reaction and he scoffs, “See? Look at what you were interrupting, Cho.”

He grits his teeth in reaction and wants to say something snarky in response but he instead feels something wet drop onto his other hand. Looking down, Choso realizes he was drooling and quickly wipes his mouth off.

Now, whether or not he was drooling because of the way Gojo just sucked his thumb off or because of the way Gojo was now moaning into your cunt was completely unbeknownst to him. Either way, Gojo had something to do with it and it was starting to make Choso feel embarrassed.

Wiping his mouth off all aggressively, he hears a slight chuckle coming from you and his eyes fall onto your face immediately. 

Letting out a small bit of laughter, you end up pointing at his face, “You’re blushing, Cho.”

Said blush only worsens when you point it out and he groans, “You have no room to speak. I just watched you cum on his tongue three times in a row.”

Gasping at a sudden smack against your cunt from Gojo’s hand, your back arches up and the hand you’ve got down in his hair gives his head a mean tug. You hear the way Gojo whines but your focus is still slightly on teasing Choso.

Breathlessly, “A-And you… hah… came untouched,” You point out.

Baffled, Choso’s brows push together and he looks down at himself just to see yet another embarrassing sight. His eyes flick up to you and he opens his mouth but you’re reaching for him and pulling him down before he can try to explain himself.

And then your lips are on his and you’re using the kiss to drown out your whines and whimpers due to Gojo’s persistent lapping. It’s all messy with the way you’re letting yourself melt onto Choso’s lips while Gojo’s thick tongue works you toward yet another orgasm.

At some point you bite on Choso’s bottom lip and he pulls away from your mouth, wincing in surprise. When his eyes open and fall on you, he’s met with the sight of your body trembling a little and you look so blissfully fucked out.

He glances down at Gojo for a moment, who looks like he hasn’t moved an inch within the past few minutes and is currently ignoring the weak push of your hand against his head.

“Choso,” You whisper, earning his eyes on you again.

He raises a brow in faint concern and lets his head weigh to the side a little, “What? Doesn’t that feel good?” He coos.

You’re gaping at the man for only a second longer before he watches your eyes roll back and your body arch off the couch, “I-It’s too much, I-I can’t… mgh, I’m gonna-”

“Again?” Choso grins.

You shake your head, “N-No-, fuck. This is-, hnngh-, d-different.”

“Different?” He repeats, quickly turning to Gojo who’s all but lost in eating you out. 

He’s branding his tongue into your pussy at this point, having seared his name into it multiple times—first and last. When Choso looks at the man again, he’s met with Gojo’s pussydrunken blue eyes. Most of his face is soaked in remnants of you and he’s stuffed his tongue into you enough times to leave all of his jaw and neck soaked.

Pulling away just barely, Gojo mumbles, “She’s gonna squirt.” And then smiles and dives right back in.

You feel his tongue lull around your clit in messy circles and his drenched fingers slip right back into you again—printing his fingertips against your g-spot and grinning through every second of it. 

It’s a messy repetition of tugging his fingers out, sucking every drop off of them, and then sliding them back in for a while and your legs are really trembling now. You could feel yourself clenching and slavering up just about everything in between your legs at the moment.

It’s not until Gojo removes his hand entirely and starts grinding against the couch for friction while only using his mouth again that Choso shakes out of his little daze and clears his throat.

“Shit, Satoru move over.” Without waiting for a response, he’s quickly shifting himself toward Gojo and nearly shoving the guy over just to make some room for himself—your legs flailing further open just to fit both men in between them.

Gojo’s far too drunk in lust to argue with Choso but you see the frustration in his white furrowed brows when Choso angles his head closer and takes your clit into his mouth. Gojo lets off an annoyed groan against the puffy lips of your pussy, and the two are practically fighting over space with their tongues now.

With both of them on you, you don’t have room to say anything or even speak at all since you’re left whimpering and holding onto both of their heads—weakly pushing at them and yet lifting your hips to their faces simultaneously.

Not even a minute with both of their mouths on you passes before you’re finally finally squirting like they both seemed to want you to. It’s only then that they pull their faces away a little—only enough to watch the way you shake and enough for you to quite literally wet up their glasses.

“Fuuck,” Gojo chokes out for the first time in what felt like forever, voice all husky and eyes just watching the filthy mess you’re making just a few inches away from him. 

Choso’s got the same surprised expression on his face and even in your panting and huffing, you manage to catch a glimpse of the way you, quite literally, wet up the entirety of both of their glasses.

By the time you’re done, your body is quivering and your arms have found themself over your face—hiding your expression from your two tutors who were still staring at you in pure awe.

Eventually, you hear one of them chuckling and lift your arm just a little to look. Gojo’s got the biggest smile on his face and his glasses are in his hands now, using the bottom of his shirt to clean them off. “I can finally scratch that off my bucket list.”

You and Choso both blink in innocent unison. The brunette looks at you for a second and then back at Gojo, “Cross… what off of your bucket list?”

Gojo holds his glasses up and his smile seems to widen, “Using these for something other than to see.” He says with a small shrug.

Choso lifts his hand to his frames and takes them off just to look at them. He quickly finds himself admiring the wet mess you’ve made of them and it clicks in his head exactly what Gojo was talking about. 

“Huh. Hey uh,” He looks over to you and squints a little so he can tell whether or not you’re still covering your face, and when he spots you looking at him, he smiles. “After we clean you up, can I take a picture of them like this?”

You don’t think your brain is all the way there yet so you find yourself just staring at him instead of answering—trying to figure out if he actually just asked you that.

“…And after he’s done with that, can I lick them off?” Gojo adds in.

At that, you let your legs fall shut and turn to face the couch instead of them. Letting out a steady reply for the first time in what had felt like forever, “You’re both sluts—do whatever you want.”

Choso smirks, “Hot.”