🀧

she’s sitting far too close to him. the air between them isn’t even warm—it’s thick. intended. she’s propped up on one arm, leaned over his thigh just enough to toe the line of inappropriate without technically crossing it. her voice is saccharine. fake clueless. the tone of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.

and toji, your sweet, soft-spoken boyfriend?

he’s none the wiser.

he’s got that tired, shy smile on—the one he gives when someone compliments him and he doesn’t know what to do with it. he’s kneeling on the floor, glasses slipping low on his nose, cardigan sleeves pushed up as he scratches an equation into a spiral-bound notebook. he’s explaining something patiently, slowly, like he’s done a hundred times before, completely unaware of the way her eyes are devouring him.

“you make it sound so easy,” she giggles. “i think i just need one-on-one tutoring every week.”

he chuckles quietly. “you’re getting better, though.”

you don’t even hear the rest.

your spine feels too hot, your molars press too tight.

you turn, step back into the next aisle over, and press your tongue against your cheek.

you don’t doubt him. it’s never about trust. it’s about her.

and if she’s gonna act like your man is fair game, then maybe she needs a reminder.

forty minutes later, the library is closed.

you’re still inside.

technically the door is locked, technically there are signs that say the study spaces shut down by 10:30, and technically you should be halfway across campus by now. but you’re not in the mood to follow rules. not tonight.

you hear him before you see him again.

his voice is low. muttering something to himself.

and then—there he is.

back still pressed to the shelf. glasses on. clipboard in his lap. sleeves rolled up, collar twisted, legs folded long beneath him like he’s settled in for the apocalypse. he doesn’t even notice you at first. just squints down at his notes, muttering numbers under his breath.

you take a step closer.

then another.

he finally glances up. blinking.

“…you’re still here?”

his voice is tired. soft. unaware.

and in a single breath, you decide you’re not letting him go home unclaimed.

you kneel between his legs slowly, deliberately, and his brows furrow with that dumb little concern he always gives you when you act slightly out of pocket.

“baby?” he asks, breath catching. “what’re you—”

you straddle his lap.

his mouth parts just a little.

you lean in and brush your lips along his jaw—soft, slow, like you’re kissing a bruise. his breath catches again.

“you’ve been out here helping girls who already know how to divide matrices,” you murmur, voice featherlight against the shell of his ear. “i figured i’d come remind you who’s actually failing math and needs your attention.”

he freezes. blinks. stutters.

“she really did need help—i wasn’t—i wasn’t trying to—”

you rock your hips.

he goes silent.

his cock is already thick beneath you, pressing up against the soft material of his corduroy pants, and when you grind down again—harder this time—he chokes on a breath and tips his head back into the shelf with a soft thud.

your voice dips lower, curling like steam.

“you’re hard already?”

his glasses fog faintly.

“you—fuck—you’re grinding on me, how could i not—?”

you hum, skirt hiking higher, heat building. every shift of your hips drags your soaked panties over his clothed cock. he’s shaking beneath you already.

“thought you liked when i was quiet,” he breathes, a pitiful attempt at levity—but it comes out too needy, too cracked.

you kiss the corner of his mouth, lips grazing his skin as you whisper:

“you’ve been sweet to everyone but me today. so no, baby, i don’t want you quiet.”

his hands come up like he wants to stop you, but they don’t land anywhere. they hover—lost. he looks up at you with that helpless expression, face flushed, mouth parted. his hair’s falling into his eyes.

you take his glasses off slowly, fold them, set them on a forgotten textbook.

he looks dazed.

you kiss his cheek, then press your thumb to his bottom lip.

he gasps. swallows. obeys immediately.

his mouth opens. you slide your thumb in.

his tongue presses against it. warm. wet. obedient.

“i didn’t mean to make you mad,” he murmurs, voice thick around your thumb.

you tilt your head slightly. “you didn’t make me mad.”

you lean forward, lips brushing his jaw.

“you made me territorial.”

his hips twitch.

your cunt clenches around nothing.

you roll your hips again, slow and deep, pressing his cock right against your slick heat—and he whimpers, chest arching toward you, arms trembling like he’s holding back from tearing you down onto him.

his throat is flushed. adams apple jumping.

“you’re—fuck—” he groans. “i can’t—please slow down, i’m gonna—i can’t hold it—”

you kiss his throat, twice, maybe three times, before you finally reach down and tug your panties to the side.

“don’t wanna slow down,” you whisper. “wanna make you cum so hard she feels it when she tries to talk to you tomorrow.”

his breath breaks.

you sink down on him.

he moans—loud, wrecked—and it echoes through the dead-quiet library like sin.

you keep going anyway and now you’re already fucking him before he can catch his breath.

your panties are still tugged to the side, your skirt rucked up around your waist, and his cock’s buried so deep inside you it feels like it’s been there for hours—like it belongs there. he’s warm and full and pulsing under you, breath shattered into fragments, like he doesn’t know if he should be begging you to slow down or speed up.

but he’s not really speaking anymore. just soft, helpless little moans—like “ah…hahh… please…”—mouth parted, lashes wet, trying to blink up at you through the blur.

you’re sitting flush against him now. riding him slowly, cruelly, grinding your hips down just enough to feel him twitch every time your cunt sucks him in. it’s hot between you—your skin damp, your chest flushed, your thighs clenched around his. the quiet library air turns sticky. you hear your own wetness in the air, slick sounds echoing off the walls.

toji’s cardigan is slipping off his shoulder. his glasses are tossed away, useless. he keeps trying to focus, keeps trying to look at you—but his eyes roll every time you move.

his head tips back into the bookshelf behind him, a quiet thud lost in the heat between you.

you lean in—close, chest brushing his—and reach up to touch his jaw with one hand. he leans into it like it soothes him. you trace his bottom lip with your thumb. just once. slow.

and he moans.

his mouth parts, barely even a second of hesitation, and then—he pulls your thumb in with his lips, tongue wrapping around it immediately like he’s starved for something only you can give.

you feel it all. the warmth. the texture. the tremble in his breath as he sucks, slow and instinctive, his eyes fluttering half-closed as he lets the sensation anchor him.

his hips jerk again under you.

“baby,” he breathes around your finger, voice low and ruined. “you’re—i’m gonna—fuck—”

he tries to hold still.

he tries. but his cock twitches again, and your pussy tightens around him like a reflex, and that’s when you see it—the way his whole face starts to break open, all flushed and vulnerable and raw.

you keep your thumb in his mouth.

and keep moving.

not faster. just deeper. every grind is a threat, a promise, a pressure point. your walls clamp down around him with a wet, obscene sound and his breath shatters completely.

“too much,” he whispers, barely able to say it. “s’t-too much—feels too good—fuck, fuck, please—”

his thighs tremble underneath you. his fingers dig into the back of your sweater like he needs to cling to something, anything, or else he’ll come apart.

you shift just slightly, angle your hips a little higher so his cock hits deeper—and he gasps around your thumb. doesn’t stop sucking. doesn’t even think to.

you lean down, forehead to his, lips brushing his flushed cheek.

“you close?” you whisper.

he nods. barely. eyes unfocused.

“don’t hold it back.”

he comes like his body can’t help it.

trembles. cries. lips still wrapped around your finger, mouth dripping. his whole body jolts forward like you’ve shocked him, and you feel his cock throb inside you—once, twice, three times—hot cum spilling deep as his hands slip down to your thighs, clutching like he’s drowning.

and still—you don’t stop.

you grind down again, soft and slow. drawing out every shiver. every breath.

his whine catches in his throat. his thumb twitches against your ribs. he nuzzles your neck like he’s trying to ground himself, but his mouth is still open, still latched around your thumb like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart all over again.

your other hand slides into his hair.

you kiss his temple.

you ride the high with him.

and when he finally looks at you—eyes red-rimmed, lips parted, spit shining on your thumb—he looks like someone who doesn’t just love you.

he belongs to you.

you whimper. he shoves his thigh between yours and makes you ride it.

“c’mon,” he growls. “grind on it. show me how bad you need it.”

you do. you have to. thighs shaking from the friction of your ruined panties against his jeans, dripping slick that’s already soaking through both layers. he lets one of your arms go so he can snake his hand up your throat from behind, thick fingers wrapping tight around your neck—just enough pressure to make your head swim.

his gloved hand squeezes your cheeks next, tilting your face back toward his mask. he licks his lips behind it. you can’t see it, but you hear it. his tongue dragging across the plastic as he breathes heavy. nasty. obsessed.

“open your mouth.”

you do. no hesitation.

he spits. right past the holes in the mask, straight onto your tongue.

“swallow.”

you gulp it down, throat bobbing against his palm. he laughs.

“good girl.”

and then it shifts.

he bends you over the couch without warning. shoves your face into the cushions like you’re nothing but a fucktoy he gets to use. panties get yanked down. not even off, just pulled to the side, all soaked and stuck to your folds. he doesn’t finger you, doesn’t prep you—just lines himself up, thick, veiny, and angry-red, and sinks in slow enough to make you feel the stretch in every breathless inch.

“god damn,” he groans, dragging his cock out halfway before slamming back in. “tight as fuck. greedy little pussy.”

he fucks you nasty. rough, deep strokes that slap skin to skin, loud and raw, like he wants the neighbors to hear. like he wants your body to bruise and ache with his shape inside you.

you’re crying by the third minute. clawing at the cushion, mouth open, drool on the fabric. but it feels too good to stop.

“look at you,” he huffs. “fucked dumb by a man in a mask. didn’t even take you outta your shirt.”

his gloved hand wraps around your throat again and pulls you up, arching your back as he pistons into you.

“breathe,” he whispers.

then he squeezes.

your vision goes white around the edges. pussy clenching hard around him. he doesn’t let go until your knees buckle.

“that’s it, baby. come on my cock.”

you cum shaking, wetness pouring down your thighs. he keeps going. keeps using you, cock swelling.

“gonna fill you up now,” he groans. “fuck it in deep, make it stay.”

he buries himself to the hilt and lets go with a deep, broken grunt. thick cum filling you so full it leaks out as he keeps rutting through it. won’t stop. won’t let you go. not until he’s sure you’re stuffed full.

and when he finally pulls out, mess dripping down your thighs, he slaps your ass once, admiring the wreckage.

“answer the door like that again,” he mutters, “and i’ll fuck you on the porch next time.”

and now here he is. kneeling like it is the only will he came here to fulfill. holding your cunt open with both thumbs, just watching— no, observing you naked. for a second you think he’s teasing you but your wrong thought is cut short when his tongue is dragging up the mess like it’s syrup off a spoon. slow, heavy, filthy.

then he goes mean.

mouth clamping down like he’s starving. lips sucking your clit in tight while his tongue swirls rough circles around it—sloppy and deep like he’s fucking it with the tip of his tongue. and then both thumbs dig in. spreading you further, holding your pussy taut and pretty and open like he’s putting it on display just for himself.

“you hear how wet you are?” he says right into your cunt, lips brushing your clit when he talks. “you did this. just from me putting my mouth on you, you nasty fuckin’ thing.”

you moan—loud. too loud. that kind of noise you don’t even mean to make. it’s just what comes out when he does that flutter thing with his tongue and your thighs lock up, toes curling like your whole body’s trying to grab onto something. anything.

he doesn’t let up. not even when you’re trembling. not even when your hips start to buck.

“baby, stay still.” he pinches your thigh softly. “let me eat.” he spits a globe of spit again. lets it dribble right down the middle and then licks it back up like a pervert. like he’s obsessed which he definitely is. jaw tight, lips shiny, nose pressed in while his tongue drags every single moan out of you. he wants you dripping down his chin, messy, sobbing, twitching from how good it is.

“gonna suck on this tight cunt ‘till you cry,” he groans into it. “then i’m gonna fuck your hole so deep you won’t remember your name, get it?” you’re almost wasted.

his tongue slows—not out of mercy, just to watch you squirm.

he leans back slightly, lips shiny from your juice, chin slick with spit and arousal and everything he’s worked out of you already. breath heavy. hungry eyes fixed on your twitching cunt like it just pissed him off.

“part your lips,” he demands, voice low but fierce like it’s a fucking order. “spread it open for me. i wanna see it.”

your shaky fingers move on instinct, reaching down to obey. you hook your fingers under your folds, pulling yourself wide, and he groans low in his chest like it hurts to see you like this. so wet. so raw. clit swollen and twitching from the attention he’s given it—and now, exposed like this, it’s almost too much. it should be too much.

but then he leans in again, and your whole spine arches like it’s bracing for impact. he doesn’t start with his tongue this time.

no. he starts with his nose.

just brushes it up the slit slow, deliberately letting it nudge your clit—bump, bump, bump—like he’s testing your reaction. like he’s marking time with the softest part of him while your legs flinch and your stomach pulls tight from the overstimulation.

“look at this greedy little thing,” he murmurs, voice warm and dark against your cunt. “swollen like she’s beggin’ me to hurt her.”

then he flicks his tongue out—sideways, not up. not gentle. your thighs clamp down again.

“don’t fuckin’ close up now,” he growls, annoyed slap getting delivered to the inside of your thigh hard enough to sting. “i said open.”

you do. because you have to and this shit feels so good.

your boyfriend sucks your clit back into his mouth again, lips plush and tight around it, and just holds it there. tongue flicking back and forth underneath like a motor, side to side, building that high-pitched pressure that makes your whole lower body feel electric. and just as you’re about to go—

he slides one finger in, “fuuuuck.” he mouths, watching you stretch then adds another.

then—fuck—a third.

all in one go. deep. curling them inside you like a ‘c’mere’ sign. he knows exactly where to press and he does. his fingers are thick, deliberate, merciless. your walls clamp down, a slippery squeeze that makes his groan vibrate through your clit.

“tight as fuck,” he growls into you, barely able to talk through the wet suction of his mouth. “look at you. all stretched open and still tryna suck me in like you’re starving.”

his wrist moves faster. three fingers fucking in and out of you with obscene speed, knuckles wet, palm slapping against your cunt. he’s feeding your pussy the sound of it—squelch, squelch, squelch—and every time he presses up into that spot, every time he sucks on your clit at the same time, you swear your vision whites out.

“you feel that?” he pants. “that’s me fucking you with my hand. stuffing you like you’re made to take it. this hole’s so good i’m about to lose my fucking mind.”

you moan something incoherent—can’t even tell if it’s his name or just sound—and your hips try to run from it, but he just growls low and hooks one arm under your thigh, dragging you right back down to the base of his wrist.

“don’t fuckin’ run,” he says, licking a wide stripe up your pussy like a punishment. “take it.”

and like a good girlfriend, you will. you have to.

your legs are shaking.

trembling like you’re being exorcised, like something holy and terrifying is ripping through your core and trying to claw its way out. you’re babbling—words, moans, curses, all mangled into one long, wrecked sound while his mouth stays latched onto your clit like he’s feeding from it.

and his fingers— god, his fingers.

three thick digits fucking into you like he’s digging for something deeper, pumping in and curling like they’re sculpting you from the inside out. it’s fast. rough. deliberate. every drag of his palm over your soaked entrance sends another wave of heat crashing up your spine.

“you’re close,” he says into your cunt, voice tight and wet and vibrating directly into your clit. “tightening on me and shit, so proud of you.”

your thighs are twitching.

your belly’s clenching.

your whole body’s bucking off the bed like you’re being shocked. and he just laughs, this low, mean sound that makes your stomach drop—because he knows. knows what’s coming. knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“yeah, baby, that’s it,” he groans, sucking your clit hard while his fingers slam into you. “give it to me. i want it.”

your vision goes white.

your hips lift off the bed.

and then it happens.

your cunt grip down like a vice—and your whole body seizes up, thighs locking around his head as you squirt all over his face. gushes. hot and fast, soaking him down to the jaw, running in messy rivulets down his neck and chin.

he doesn’t flinch.

doesn’t pull away.

doesn’t even slow down.

“fuck, there it is,” he grunts, filthy and proud, lapping it up like he’s dying of thirst. “so sweet when you let go like that. look at this mess you made on my face. you fuckin’ animal.” you would’ve playfully slapped him if you were in the right state of mind.

“so good for me.” your thighs are still twitching when he finally looks up at you, lips slick, eyes dark and hooded—but soft. not hungry anymore, just… proud. reverent.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice all low and ruined. “still shaking.”

you try to speak, but nothing really comes out. your lips part, but all you can do is breathe, jaw slack, chest rising too fast.

he leans in anyway. kisses the inside of your knee. then your hip. then drags his hands up your sides, slow and grounding, like he’s trying to put you back together.

“you okay?” he asks, pressing his forehead to your stomach. “talk to me.”

you nod, but he doesn’t move just yet. just holds you, skin to skin, letting your body calm in his hands. his fingers trace lazy circles over your ribs, over your waist, like he’s memorizing every inch all over again.

“you were perfect,” he whispers. “every fuckin’ second.”

and even when your breath steadies, he stays right there. quiet. close. just making sure you’re still here with him.

best friend’s dad!toji who teases your entrance with his tip for so long it hurts, holding your thighs apart like he’s got all the time in the world. “you want it? say it. beg me like a little whore.” and he doesn’t move until your voice cracks.

best friend’s dad!toji who mutters filth nonstop—“tight little cunt, fuck,”, “made to be filled up,”—but presses soft kisses between your shoulder blades like he’s trying to comfort you through every cruel, perfect stroke.

best friend’s dad!toji who grinds his hips down so hard you swear you feel him in your ribs. he palms your lower belly and rubs it slow like he’s worshiping the way you stretch around him. “see that? that’s me, sweetheart. all the way inside.”

best friend’s dad!toji who pins your wrists above your head and uses the heel of his hand to rub your clit hard and fast, grinding it down until you’re gasping, twitching, overstimmed—and he just smirks like “what? too much already?”

best friend’s dad!toji who forces eye contact the second you start shaking from an orgasm. grabs your face, holds your jaw in his hand and mutters “that’s it. fuckin’ look at me when you cum. want you to remember who makes you feel like this.”

best friend’s dad!toji who says “good girl” like it’s a reward and a threat. like “that’s my perfect little slut, takin’ every inch like you were built for me.” the kind of praise that makes you soak his cock even more.

best friend’s dad!toji who presses the pads of his fingers against your clit and rubs it in slow, evil circles while still thrusting—watching you twitch and beg with that lazy grin, saying “c’mon, baby. don’t run. i know your body better than you do now.”

best friend’s dad!toji who fucks you hard but still brushes your hair out of your face when you cry. kisses your cheek, calls you “pretty girl” in the softest voice even while his hips snap into you like he’s trying to break you.

best friend’s dad!toji who picks you up while still inside you, carries you to the bathroom and sits down with you in his lap in the warm tub. “relax, sweetheart. lemme clean you up. you took all of me so good.”

best friend’s dad!toji who turns you to the mirror after, still dripping, his cum sliding down your thigh, your makeup ruined. palms your waist and mutters “look at that. you should see how pretty you look when i wreck you.”

best friend’s dad!toji who leaves a deep, grinding bruise on your inner thigh with his mouth. doesn’t bite—but sucks hard and slow enough to make you whimper, just so he can pull back and say “mine. no one else gets this fuckin’ close.”

you glance down at your robe. it’s untied, skin glowing, legs curled under you on the bed like a scene out of a dream he’s had a thousand times and you smile like he can see it.

“you always call when i am.”

he chuckles softly, like he’s indulging you, but the edge in his voice is unmistakable. “damn right. last thing i want is me disturbing you.”

you bite your lip, shifting your weight just a little, letting the fabric part further, your chest rising with the slow ache already blooming inside you.

“rough night?”

there’s silence for a beat, then the soft creak of him sitting back somewhere far away—maybe a cheap motel room, maybe the inside of a dark car, dark silver briefcase on the seat beside him, his shirt still sticking to his back with sweat and adrenaline.

“long day,” he says, voice steady, like it’s just a statement, not a complaint. “field’s quiet now, but my head’s not y’know so i figured i’d call the only one who knows how to take care of me right.”

your breath stutters.

he always says things like that; calm, intentional, like every word is placed exactly where he wants it. toji doesn’t chase the moment. he builds it.

“you miss me?” you murmur, dragging a hand over your thigh, fingertips leaving streaks of moisture from where the lotion hasn’t fully sunk in.

“not the way you’re thinking.” his answer is low. unhurried and you? you almost get embarrassed, your cheeks heating up with shame but he’s fast enough to conceal that feeling.

“but yes, i miss you.” he states. “i miss your skin. the way you look when you’re under me, flushed and soft and tryin’ to keep quiet. i miss the way you breathe when i’m three fingers deep and still not satisfied. i miss your body, baby. the rest?”

he pauses, letting that silence sit just long enough to sting. “you’re a sweet girl, but it’s that mouth and that pussy that keep me up.”

you exhale like you’ve been slapped. thighs clenching. heat flooding straight to your core.

“you’re disgusting,” you whisper, but it’s breathy and useless, and you both know you love it.

“mm, and yet here you are,” he says, soft and smug, “probably drippin’ all over your sheets just from my voice.”

shit, he knows you well.

you whimper, legs twitching. your fingers trail down your belly, hesitant only because you know how fast he can unravel you. “what are you wearin’, pretty girl?”

his voice is warmer now, smoother, like he’s easing you open just by talking.

“bet you’ve got that robe i’ve bought you on, the pink one. the one that barely hides anything.”

“yeah,” you breath heavy. “it’s open too,” you say without thinking, already gone, already feeling that weight settle over you like a command.

“good.” he grunts, low and satisfied.

“camera on.” you hesitate.

“toji—” you’re cut fast.

“c’mon don’t make me ask twice, baby.” he’s still calm. still firm, it’s like he’s not even tired no more.

“lemme see what’s mine.”

you reach for the camera, angle it down, let him see your thighs part slowly, skin still damp, chest rising and falling under the soft folds of silk. you’re already glistening where your fingers brushed earlier, and you know he sees it—knows because he doesn’t speak for a long moment.

“goddamn,” he mutters. “look at you. my girl’s always so ready for me. so fuckin’ pretty when she’s needy.”

your fingers move back between your legs like it’s instinct, like his voice is the only permission you need.

“go slow, yeah?” he says. “i wanna watch you take your time.”

you start to circle your clit, lazy and soft, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation spreads. it’s not fast but it is deliberate. drawn out. like you’re savoring it just for him.

“that’s it, baby. make it nice for me. keep your legs open. i wanna see all of it.”

your breath comes quicker now, thighs shaking just a little as the heat grows sharp.

“toji—feels so good—”

“mm. i know it does.”

his voice is velvet now, heavy and rich, each word slower than the last.

“wish i was there to slide my fingers in, curl ‘em just right. you remember how i do it, yeah?”

you nod before you remember to speak.

“yes—yes, i remember—”

“go ahead then. two fingers. i know you can handle it.”

you obey instantly, the stretch dizzying, your body so wound up from just his voice that the ache feels almost too good to hold.

“fuck—” you cry out, head dropping back. “toji, i—i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he says, tone deepening, voice sharp enough to slice through your whimpering.

“you’re my girl. you take what i give you, even when i’m not there to give it.”

your orgasm creeps closer, your fingers moving faster, slick sounds filling the room as the pleasure builds thick and fast and hot, overwhelming in that way only he ever manages to pull from you.

“cum for me,” he growls, “don’t hold back. wanna hear you fall apart, pretty girl.”

and you do.

you’re loud, trembling, thighs shaking as your orgasm crashes over you, and you can’t even pretend to stay quiet. what toji hears? it’s all gasps and moans and his name tumbling off your lips like it’s the only one you know.

on the other end, he groans deep, like your sounds are all it takes to push him there, his breath catching in his throat, his rhythm speeding up as you pant and tremble through the comedown, and then he lets out a rough, broken growl, thick and low and satisfied as he finishes with your name under his breath like it belongs there—like it’s a prayer

“shit, baby… just like that…” his voice breaks off, uneven, and you know his head tilted back, hand sticky, muscles tight, his eyes probably squeezed shut from how hard you made him cum just from your voice and your body on a screen

the line goes quiet after that, only soft breathing filling the space between you. both of you catching your breath, your body limp across your sheets, his silence a little stunned, a little reverent

you stretch slowly, robe falling further open, fingers gliding gently over your thigh as the haze settles into your bones and all you can do is smile at your screen; lazy, content, a little sore from how hard you came

“feel better?” you murmur, your voice warm, teasing, like you already know the answer

“mm.” he breathes, slower now, calmer. “you always know how to fix me right.”

a pause.

then he sighs, deep and real and honest, and it’s so quiet you almost miss it when he says: “get some sleep. you earned it.”

you hum in reply, cheek pressing into the pillow, lids heavy as you start to drift, warmth still pulsing gently between your thighs, body slack with that deep, private kind of satisfaction

“night, toji.”

“night, baby.”

he doesn’t hang up right away.

you both just lie there, the soft sound of your breath crackling through the line, not saying anything, not needing to—just staying connected for one more minute while the world fades away, quiet and full.

then finally, when the silence is heavy enough to hold, the call ends.

no goodbyes, did what you just done, exactly the way you both like it.

he grunts, slow and low, lips dragging down your cheek.

“you’re shaking, baby,” he murmurs. “you gonna cry for me again?”

your hands are clutching his arms — his biceps flex every time he rocks into you, slow and deep and deliberate, like he’s etching himself into the walls of your pussy.

you can’t speak. you’re sobbing too hard. your legs won’t stop trembling, overstimulation pulling tight across your belly as you clamp down around him.

his voice is calm. like he’s discussing a fucking chess move.

“there it is. she’s pulsing.”

he kisses your jaw. “you’re gonna come again, aren’t you?”

you nod helplessly.

he hums, almost affectionate. “how many’s that now? four?”

you don’t answer. you’re drooling a little. tears running from the corners of your eyes. your thighs are soaked, your pussy so wet it’s making slick, obscene sounds every time he thrusts.

toji pauses.

and pulls out just enough to see the mess you’ve made.

your cunt clenches around nothing, fluttering like you’re begging him back in — and he groans like it’s physically painful to not be inside you.

“fuck… look at that.”

his voice cracks a little.

he reaches down with one big hand and spreads your folds with his thumb, watching your pussy drip. it clenches around nothing, twitching, so overstimulated that your hips jerk away on instinct.

“nuh-uh,” he grabs your thighs and drags you back onto the edge of the cot, so your ass is barely hanging on. “you’re takin’ this dick, sweetheart.”

then he lines himself back up and pushes in — slow, thick, stretching you wide again like it’s the first time.

you scream into your own wrist.

his voice turns rough, but it’s still quiet. still focused.

“there she is,” he mutters, eyes locked on your face. “my sweet little cop. takin’ it like she was made for it.”

his hips roll into you again. deeper. harder.

and it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“t-this is too much—” you sob, voice cracked and slurred.

he leans down, nose brushing yours.

“then why’s your pussy grippin’ me like it don’t wanna let go?”

you cry out again. his cock fills you perfectly — too much but just right, fat and long and dragging against your deepest, rawest nerves.

he starts fucking you harder.

still rhythmic, still controlled — but rougher now, each thrust punching gasps out of your lungs.

your hands fly to his chest and he grabs your wrists, pins them above your head with one big palm.

“stay open for me,” he growls. “don’t fuckin’ run.”

you can’t even move.

his hand snakes under your throat, thumb at your jaw, other fingers resting right below your pulse.

“you don’t get to hide this from me. you hear me?”

he leans in — voice breathless now. hoarse.

“you don’t get to pretend you don’t love the way i split this pretty little cunt open. the way i ruin it.”

and then his tone softens. terrifyingly so.

“you’re mine now,” he whispers. “look at you. my perfect girl. my ruby.”

you’re crying again. broken little gasps, every nerve in your body pulled tight as your orgasm builds fast and violent, boiling in your belly like a fucking explosion.

“t-toji—!”

he doesn’t stop. just fucks you through it.

“come for me,” he says, deep and dark and reverent. “come on my cock and give me everything.”

you come so hard you forget what air is.

your body convulses under him, thighs quaking, mouth slack — a soundless, endless moan while your pussy clenches around him like you’re trying to drag him in deeper.

he watches you break.

and he moans — long and low — finally losing the last of his control as your cunt milks him, slick and desperate, walls trembling around his cock.

“fuck, baby—gonna come—inside you, shit—”

his thrusts stutter. jerk.

“take it. fuckin’ take it—”

and then he presses his hips in deep, buried to the hilt, cock twitching as he fills you up, thick, hot, so much cum that you feel it spill out around the edges.

he stays there.

cock softening inside you. face in your neck. breathing hard.

you’re still shaking. still twitching. your body’s soaked in sweat.

your chest rises and falls like you ran a marathon. your cunt pulses around him in slow aftershocks.

his voice finally breaks the silence.

“…what’s your name again, sweetheart?”

you blink up at him. blank. empty.

he laughs.

“yeah. that’s what i thought.”

you hum lowly in response, lips sealing tighter around his tip, letting your tongue trace the sensitive slit as he exhales through his nose. he tastes clean and faintly salty, like sweat and sin, and you swear you feel him twitch every time you so much as look up at him with those wide, innocent eyes.

“teasin’ me like that…” he huffs. “i oughta fuck your throat raw.”

you moan at that, and he grits his teeth, glancing at the door like it might swing open at any second—because it could. you’ve been down here long enough that it’s not just dangerous now, it’s stupid.

“don’t suck too hard, baby, i got a meeting—”

and then there’s a knock.

sharp. decisive. professional.

toji freezes. so do you.

he clears his throat fast, wipes his palm down his jaw, tries to sit up like he wasn’t just getting deepthroated by his own employee. “come in.”

you do not move.

not off your knees. not off his dick.

you just hold the tip on your tongue, eyes fluttering shut, fingers massaging his balls beneath the desk as the door opens and—

“sir?” his assistant, mayu, peeks in, tablet in her arms. “you’ve got the client call in five. just making sure you didn’t forget.”

you can feel toji tense. the way his thighs shift under your palms, the subtle twitch of the cock in your mouth. he doesn’t even look at you but his hand presses against your scalp, firm, reminding you: don’t move.

“mm.” he clears his throat again, voice a bit deeper than usual. “yeah. got it.”

mayu lingers. shit, toji thinks he’s fucked.

“…everything alright, sir? you look a little flushed.”

you nearly laugh around him. the power you’re holding right now, it’s delicious.

toji just grunts, glancing briefly down—he doesn’t look at you, but he’s definitely thinking about you, lips stretched tight over his teeth while you start to suck again. light pressure. just enough to feel the veins throb against your tongue.

“air vent’s busted again,” he lies flatly. “it’s hot as hell in here.”

mayu nods, stepping back slowly, though she still seems unsure. “i’ll have maintenance look at it.”

you swirl your tongue again. he sucks in a breath through his nose.

“good. thanks.”

as the door shuts, you moan around his cock, and finally—finally—toji slams his fist against the armrest.

“you fucking brat,” he growls, shoving the chair back just a few inches, enough to look down at you properly now, teeth clenched. “you really get off on this shit, huh? suckin’ me off while my assistant’s in the room?”

you pull off just slightly, stroking him now with one hand, licking the tip like a popsicle. “you love it.”

he glares at you, breath uneven. “yeah. i fuckin’ do.”

then you sink back down.

no more teasing. no more soft licks.

you take him deep, letting your throat open around his length as both hands cup his balls, stroking them in slow, firm motions that have his hips jerking off the seat. spit leaks from your lips. your mascara’s smudging. and toji is a mess—cursing under his breath, fighting every muscle in his body not to start fucking your face into the back of your throat.

you don’t stop until he cums. hot and heavy, shooting down your throat while he hisses your name and pulls your head down, holding you there while you swallow every drop.

“fuck, baby…”

when he finally lets go, you sit back, wiping your chin, catching your breath as you look up at him through ruined lashes.

“…you’ve got three minutes before your meeting,” you say softly, lips slick and red.

toji grins, watching your flushed face.

“plenty of time to bend you over this desk and return the favor.”