Living In A Fatasy

Mr. Fushiguro—Toji—doesn’t even notice you at first, not even when you’re perched on the golf cart in your pink little pleated skirt. He’s too busy wiping the sweat on his brow with the hem of his shirt, the fabric riding up enough to reveal the hard lines of his abs with a dark trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his shorts.

Your father waves you over. “Sweetheart, come say hi!” he calls, and Toji finally turns his head.

The moment his eyes land on you, it’s like time slowed down. His gaze drags down, taking in the way your skirt rides up just a little too high when you slide off the cart, the way the sunlight catches the gold charm dangling from your neck. There’s a flicker of something dark and unreadable and his eyes.

“This is my lovely daughter,” your father says, clapping a hand on Toji’s shoulder like they’re old way buddies and not just two guys who met at a country club. “Thought I’d bring her along today. I hope you don’t mind the distraction?”

Toji smirks, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “Oh, I definitely don’t mind.” His voice is rough, the kind that makes your thighs press together instinctively.

Your father laughs, clueless, already adjusting his cap. “She’s a handful, this one. My spoiled rotten.” He ruffles your hair and you pout.

The match starts. You’re supposed to be watching your father, like he had told you to, but you can’t help it. Your attention keeps slipping. It’s impossible not to stare when Toji bends over to line up his shot, the fabric of his shorts straining across his thighs.

You bite your lip at the sight and immediately pretends to fiddle with the hem of your skirt when he glances back, the corner of his mouth quirks up anyway.

During the break, your father wanders off to grab drinks, leaving you alone with Toji under the shade of the clubhouse’s entrance.

He leans against the pillar with his arms crossed. You can’t help but notice how his biceps flex under the tight sleeves of his polo shirt.

“So,” he drawls, tilting his head. “You always dress like this for your daddy’s games?”

“Like what?” You blink, feigning innocence. 

His grin quirks up slowly. “Like you’re tryin’ to give someone a heart attack.”

The way he says it sends an immediate heat down your stomach. You tilt your head. You pretend to adjust your shoelaces just to send him a better view of your thighs.

“I dunno what you mean, Mr. Fushiguro.”

The way you emphasize his name makes his jaw tighten, just a little.

“Toji,” he corrects you before pushing off the pillar to step closer. “Call me Toji.”

You bite back a smirk. “Wouldn’t that be disrespectful? You’re a little older than me and… you’re my daddy’s friend.”

He lets out a rough chuckle, eyes flicking down to where your fingers toy with the charm around your neck. “Pretty sure disrespect’s the last thing on your mind right now.”

You don’t get the chance to respond because your father’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Got us some lemonades!” He jogs back over, oblivious. He hands you a glass with the said drink. “You two getting along?”

Your father’s timing couldn’t be worse. Toji steps back just enough to seem casual. You sip your lemonade, the tartness sharp on your tongue, but it doesn’t distract you the way Toji’s watching you over the rim of the glass.

“She’s sure got a mouth on her,” Toji remarks, and your father laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Tell me about it!” Your father echoes, shaking his head like he’s reminiscing about something. “Alright, back to the game. You still watching, sweetheart?”

You nod, batting your lashes at him. “Of course, Daddy.”

The lie tastes sticky on your lips. Of course, I’d watch.

Your friend and his sexy ass.

As soon as your father turns away, Toji leans in, his breath warm and minty against your ear.

“That’s reaaal cute.” His voice is low, rough—the kind that makes your stomach clench. “Bet you’re good at lying to him.”

By the time their match play ends, the sun’s dipping low, casting long shadows across the green. Your father slings an arm around Toji’s shoulders, grinning.

“Dinner at my place tonight?”

Toji rubs the back of his neck like he’s conflicted. “Rain check? I got some work waiting for me.” His eyes flick over you.

Your father frowns. “Oh, come on! You’ve been dodging my invites lately.”

“Next time,” Toji pats your father on the shoulder then he heads to the parking lot.

Before he gets in his sleek black car, Toji pauses just for a second to take one final look at you. Your fingers toy with the charm of your necklace as you both stare at each other. Then, without breaking eye contact, he winks at you.

Your breath hitches, fingers tightening around the charm until the metal bites into your skin. Your oblivious father nudges you when his personal driver pulls up in the clubhouse’s entrance.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Your father’s voice snaps you out of whatever spell Toji just cast over you.

“Y-Yeah,” you murmur. “Just zoned out for a sec.”

He pinches your cheek slightly. “Fine, fine. Let’s get home, your mother’s waiting for us.”

The ride home is unbearable. You’re restless, thighs pressed together under the pleated fabric of your skirt while the ghost of Toji’s smirk is burned into your brain.

Dinner passes in a blur—your mother chattering about her garden club, your father recounting every damn stroke from his golf matches like it’s the most thrilling thing in the world. You push food around your plate, nodding when you’re supposed to, laughing when it’s expected. All you can think about is the way Toji’s fingers had flexed around his club, the veins in his forearms standing out under his skin.

You excuse yourself early, claiming a headache. Your father kisses your forehead, none the wiser.

Upstairs, you lock the bathroom door and turn the shower on full blast. The mirror fogs up almost instantly, but not before you catch your own reflection. You peel off your clothes slowly, imagining it’s Toji’s hands doing it. The water’s scalding when you step under it but you barely feel it.

Your fingers trail down your stomach, and lower. The water sluices down your back, hot enough to redden your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat pooling between your thighs.

You lean against the tiled wall, one hand pressed on the tiled wall, the other slipping between your legs. Your fingers are tentative at first, just grazing over your clit, but the second you apply pressure, your breath hitches.

“Nngh-“ you bite back a moan.

You bite your lip hard enough to almost taste copper, imagining it’s Toji’s teeth instead—his mouth on your neck, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. The image of him bending over before swinging his golf club, the way his shorts clung to his thighs, the sweat glistening on his skin.

A particular sharp twist of your fingers has your knees buckling. You gasp, forehead pressed to the cool tile now. You can almost hear his rough and mocking voice, telling you how pretty you look like this, all desperate and dripping for him. You push two fingers inside, fucking yourself with shallow, frantic thrusts.

But it’s not enough.

You whined frustratedly while adding a third. The stretch burns just right, and you imagine that it’s Toji’s cock splitting you open instead.

Your free hand grips the showerhead, turning it so the spray hits your clit directly. The sensation is overwhelming, and your back arches.

“F-Fuck, oh! Ohhh my goood,” you whimper. “Toji—mmhhhm—yes, more… More!”

You twist your wrist to fuck yourself deeper, the slick sound of your fingers pushing in and out of your aching pussy is obscene despite the blast from the shower spray. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, toes curling against the shower floor.

“I’m close—shit—I’m so so close-”

You bite down on your lip to muffle the moan, but it’s useless. The orgasm crashes into you like a wave. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, leaving you gasping against the shower tiles as your fingers stutter inside your aching pussy. Your thighs tremble violently as the pleasure crests and then shatters. You barely register the warm rush between your legs that splashes on the shower floor.

You just squirted. At the realization, your face burns hotter than the water still pelting your skin.

The next weekend rolls around with the kind of slow, aching drag that makes you want to scream into your pillow. Your father’s already whistling by the front door, adjusting his cap like he hasn’t noticed how you’ve been practically vibrating with restless energy all morning.

“Are you wearing the new set we bought?” he calls out, patting the strap of his golf bag.

You glance down at your outfit—baby blue polo shirt tucked into a white pleated skirt that barely grazes mid-thigh.

“Yes! It’s so pretty!”

The second you step into the clubhouse, your eyes dart across the greens, searching for Toji. You've been turning your head here and there but you don’t seem to see him. Your eyes move to the bar and your stomach drops.

There he is, Toji, leaning on the counter. His massive frame shadows the woman perched on the stool next to him. She looks older, but in that polished, expensive way—manicured nails wrapped around her martini glass, her legs crossed just enough to show off toned calves in designer heels.

Toji’s saying something to her, with that same smug smirk playing on his lips. She throws her head back laughing at what he had said. Your fingers tighten around the strap of your purse.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” Your father furrows his brows when you don’t follow him toward the usual table.

You force a smile. “Just feeling a little dizzy, Daddy.”

The lie tastes sour, but your father buys it immediately, squeezing your shoulder. “Want me to call the driver?”

Your mind tells you to say yes, but your heart refuses to back down especially when you catch Toji’s eyes flickering over you. His eyebrow quirks up as if challenging you before he turns back to the woman, whispering something in her ear. You clench your jaw hard.

“Actually,” you say sweetly to your father. “I think I’ll stay.”

Your father beams and drags you toward the tables.

The next hour is torture. You’re picking at your salad, stabbing cherry tomatoes with unnecessary aggression. Toji’s still there in the bar, laughing and drinking. When the woman finally stands, she smoothes her skirt and presses a kiss to his cheek.

You snap your fork in half.

“Jesus Christ!” Your father jerks back at the sound sharp.

“Sorry, Daddy.”

You drop the remaining half of the fork down to the table. You don’t have the appetite anymore.

Your father frowns. He reaches over to tilt your chin up with his fingers.

“You look really pale.” He lays the back of his hand flat on your forehead. “I’ll call the driver now.”

The second the car pulls into the driveway, you bolt out of the car, into your house, and upstairs. Your bedroom door slams behind you hard enough to rattle the framed photos on the wall. With shaky hands, you yank the buttons of your polo followed by the tug down of your skirt.

You collapse onto your bed with enough force to make the mattress bounce. You spread your legs shamelessly wide as you sink into the pillows.

The image of Toji whispering into that woman’s ears is burned behind your eyelids—her manicured fingers brushing his arm, the way his smirk curled. Your fingers are already slipping under the waistband of your panties, the fabric damp against your skin.

You hiss through your teeth as you circle your clit with rough, impatient strokes.

“Fucking—asshole—” you grit, your other hand gripping your thigh.

Your fingertips slip inside and you feel how embarrassingly wet you are—the slick heat clinging on your folds, betraying how worked up Toji made you just by existing in the same room. You press deeper with a sharp inhale, the pads of your fingers catching on your sensitive inner walls.

It’s pathetic, really, how easily your body reacts to him.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you curl your finger, imagining it’s Toji’s instead. 

Until a knock at the door makes you freeze.

“Baby?” Your mother’s soft voice is muffled through the wood. “Are you okay?”

Your fingers slip out of you so fast you nearly whimper at the loss.

“M’fine!” you call back, voice cracking. “Just—just don’t feel well!”

Your mother sighs. “Okay, just let the maids know if you need anything.”

Her footsteps fade down the hall, and you collapse back onto the pillows with a groan.

The moment’s ruined, but the ache in your throbbing pussy isn’t going anywhere. You roll onto your stomach, arching off your hips as you grab a pillow to place between your thighs. You start grinding, hips moving in slow circles against the fabric, chasing the friction. The pressure builds—too slow, too teasing—until you’re rutting against it shamelessly. Your breath hitches every time the seam of your panties brushes your clit.

The orgasm hits you like a truck as your hips stutter against the pillow. A choked-out moan escapes your lips and you claw at the sheets. For a second, all you see is white-hot static behind your eyelids when you roll your eyes. Your body strung tight like a bowstring before finally collapsing back onto the mattress.

You peel yourself off the pillow with a grimace, the damp patch on the fabric is glaringly obvious. Your panties are soaked through, sticking uncomfortably to your thighs when you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

For a split second, you feel disgusted. So much for a man who was practically eye-fucking you last week.

“What? Daddy, no,” you whine into the phone, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. The late afternoon sun beats down on your shoulders, making your navy-blue uniform stick uncomfortably to your skin. “You promised you’d pick me up today!”

Your father sighs on the other end, the sound muffled like he’s holding the phone between his shoulder and ear.

“Sweetheart, I’m stuck in a meeting—you know how these investors are. And your mother brought the driver with her to the mall.” He chuckles after, but your grip only tightens around the phone.

You press your lips together, glaring at the empty spot where the family Mercedes was supposed to be parked.

“I hate waiting,” you hiss while kicking some loose pebbles with the toe of your Mary Janes.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “Tell you what—I’ll send someone to get you, okay? Just stay put.”

The call ends before you can argue further. You slump against the brick wall, scowling at the chirpy girls piling into their friends’ cars. Thirty minutes crawl by, each second making your skin itch worse.

You’re halfway through typing a furious text when the low growl of an engine cuts through the chatter around you.

A sleek black car that’s too familiar rolls up beside the curb. The tinted window slides down with a quiet hum, and suddenly, the heat in your cheeks has nothing to do with the sun.

Toji’s forearm rests lazily on the steering wheel while his fingers are tapping an absent rhythm. He doesn’t look at you, just tilts his head toward the passenger seat.

“Get in.”

You let out a scoff. I’d rather walk home, you speak into your mind.

Your eyes drag down. He’s not wearing his usual polo shirt—just a tight black t-shirt that clings to every ridge of his torso, the sleeves straining around his biceps. The scar at the corner of his mouth twitches when you don’t move.

“Problem?” he finally asks, turning those dark eyes on you.

You swallow hard, the handbag suddenly heavy in your grip. “Daddy sent you?”

Toji nods, then smirks. “Guess he trusts me with his precious baby girl.” The way he says it curls something hot in your stomach.

You hesitate for a second before yanking the car door open and sliding into the leather seat with more force than necessary. The scent of cologne and cigarette hits you immediately.

Before you can even settle, Toji leans over, his body heat radiating against your side. Your breath stutters, fingers clutching the edge of the seat as his face comes dangerously close to yours.

“Chill,” he says, lips quirking up when you freeze. His arm brushes your shoulder as he reaches past you for the seatbelt strap.

“I-I got it,” you blurt out, snatching the belt from his fingers.

Toji leans back into his seat with a low chuckle. His fingers flex around the gearshift and he pulls away from the curb. You stare resolutely out the window, watching the school disappear behind the tinted glass.

The car hums beneath you, the vibration of the engine matching the erratic beat in your chest. You keep your knees pressed together, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. Toji’s gaze flicks to your legs for a fraction of a second before returning to the road.

“That your uniform?”

You glance down at yourself—the crisp white blouse tucked into your navy-blue pleated skirt. “Yeah,” you answer plainly before smoothing a hand over the fabric.

Toji nods, one thumb tapping absently against the wheel. “You look good in it.”

The compliment hits you like a live wire, it was effortless but entirely too effective.

“Thanks,” you mutter, aiming for nonchalance.

The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken tension, broken only by the low hum of the engine. You flick your gaze toward him—his jawline is sharp, his profile unreadable.

“Not comin’ to your daddy’s matches lately,” he says suddenly.

You stiffen, fingers fumbling for your phone. “Just busy with school. I’m graduating, just so you know.”

Toji hums, a sound that vibrates low in his chest. You turn your attention back to your phone, scrolling mindlessly through your feed. The silence feels heavier now and it’s pressing against your ribs.

“How about you?” you ask, forcing casualness. “How’s golfing weekends?”

Toji smiles, shunning you with his pearl white teeth. “All’s fine. Still the best one out there.”

Your eyes slightly roll. “Best flirt around ladies, too.” You mutter under your breath.

The car slows to a stop at a red light, engine idling with a low purr that vibrates through your thighs. You’re hyperaware of every shift—the way Toji’s fingers drum against the gearshift, the flex of his thigh when he presses on the brake. Then his hand moves, brushing against the side of your knee as he switches gears.

The light turns green. Toji accelerates smoothly and you press your knees tighter.

“I’m kinda hungry,” he says abruptly. His eyes flick to you, then back to the road. “Mind if we stop somewhere first?”

Your pulse jumps. “Sure,” you say, too quickly.

Toji doesn’t reply, just takes a sharp turn off the main road, tires crunching over gravel as he navigates toward a secluded park tucked behind a thicket of trees.

The car rolls to a stop in a shaded clearing, the engine cutting off with a quiet click. Silence stretches thick and heavy.

One second you’re gripping the edge of the seat, the next you’re lunging across the console to straddle him. Your fingers tangle in his shirt as you crash your mouth against his. Toji doesn’t hesitate. His hand fists in your hair to yank you closer as his tongue slides past your lips. The kiss is messy and teeth clacking.

Toji’s grip on your hair tightens, tilting your head back just enough for his tongue to slide deeper, there’s the taste of something bitter and minty spreading all over your mouth. You hastily shrug out of your blazer, landing it somewhere with a muffled thump, his hands immediately work on the buttons of your blouse.

His mouth leaves yours with a wet sound, trailing hot kisses along your jaw down to your neck until you whine.

“So fuckin’ impatient,” he mutters against your skin.

You arch into him with a gasp when his fingers finally pop the last button open, the fabric of your blouse falls slack around your shoulder. Toji doesn’t waste a second—his calloused hands drag down the cups of your bra, tugging them roughly beneath your tits until they’re bare and exposed in front of him. His breath is hot against your skin before his mouth closes over your nipple, sucking hard enough to make your hips jerk against his.

“Ahh—!”

The noise rips from your throat before you can swallow it, high and needy. Toji’s warm tongue swirls around your stiffening nipples, his teeth grazing the peak quickly.

His other hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher until the fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers trace the lace edge of your panties, dipping beneath just to tease the wetness soaking in the middle. You buck against his touch, and he chuckles darkly.

“You’re so fuckin’ soaked,” he murmurs. He slides his hand inside your panties, dragging two thick fingers through your slick folds before pressing them against your clit with torturous slowness. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout me?”

You gasp, thighs trembling as his fingers work you in slow circles. “N-No,” you lie, breath hitching when he pinches your clit between his fingers.

Toji’s laugh is low and rough. “Liar.” His fingers press harder, rubbing tight little circles that make your hips jerk up. “Bet you’ve been touchin’ yourself after meeting me.”

You feel your cheeks burn. His touch slides down right on the center and he pushes in his index and middle finger, dipping inside your slick pussy with ease.

“Mmhhmmm, fuck-”

“Oh, yeah?” He curls his fingers inside you. “You saying something?”

You clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

“I-I thought about you,” you slowly rock your hips. “Every night.”

His eyes darken, fingers slowly pumping. “How?”

“With my—my fingers,” you pant. “Sometimes with a pillow.”

Toji groans and you feel his cock twitch underneath his pants. His fingers curl deeper inside you and he adds another digit, rough pads dragging against your walls in a way that makes your thighs shake.

“That’s nasty, babe,” he mutters. “Bet you came all over your poor little fingers, didn’t you?”

You whine and nod shamelessly as your hips chase his pumps. Just as you reach your high, Toji suddenly pulls his fingers out with a wet squelch that makes you groan.

“Backseat.”

You scramble getting off of his lap real quick, stumbling as you climb over the center console and land awkwardly in the backseat. The leather is cool against your bare thighs. You hastily tear off all of your clothes, leaving you completely naked in front of Toji. He follows, his large frame and weight making the car shake slightly.

His hands find your knees to grip, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Shit, look at you,” he murmurs, dragging a finger through the mess between your thighs. “All worked up just from my fingers.”

You bite your lip hard, watching as he brings his slick fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean with a low hum. The sight alone makes your stomach tighten—his dark eyes locked onto yours while he savors your sweetness.

Then he unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants down. The sight punches the air from your lungs when his cock springs free, thick and flushed, already dripping against his stomach. You whimper at the sight, thighs trembling when he strokes himself lazily, smearing precum down his length.

Toji doesn’t give you any more time to stare. He grabs your hips in one rough motion and drags you to the edge of the seat.

“Tell me,” he growls, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds, teasing. “You ever been fucked by a man like me?”

Your breath hitches, shaking your head.

Toji’s smirk is all teeth. “Good.”

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles while he teases your entrance with just the head. You whine, hips bucking, but he holds you down with bruising force.

“Nah-uh. You will wait.”

Toji’s voice is rough, the command sending a shiver down your spine. He presses harder on your clit to tease you more. You keep whimpering, fingers clawing at the leather seat beneath you.

“Please-” You squirm in his grasp, pathetic and desperate.

Toji’s smirk widens, his eyes darkening as he leans over you. “Please what?” He drags the head of his cock through your slick one more time. “You gotta use your words, y’know?”

You swallow hard, feeling your throat tight. “Please fuck me.”

The laugh that rumbles out of him is low, almost cruel.

“That’s my girl.”

With one brutal thrust, he sheathes himself inside you to the hilt. The stretch burns—too much and too fast—and a sharp cry tears from your throat as your back arches off the seat. Toji doesn’t move instantly, almost as if he’s still relishing the sensation of your spongy walls around his thick, veiny cock.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he starts moving, hips slowly bucking up back and forth until he sets a punishing pace. The wet slap of skin against skin echoing inside the car.

“Fuuuuck—you’re so tight,” he growls, his fingers digging bruises into your hips. “Holy shit. Look, you’re sucking me in.”

You can’t form words at this point, just choked-off gasps and moans as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. The leather squeaks as he moves, none of you caring that the entire car is now rocking with the force of his movements.

Toji’s hand slides from your hip to your throat. He squeezes it slightly.

“Look at me.”

Your eyelids flutter open, meeting his darkened gaze. There’s something feral in it, something that makes your stomach clench.

The sharp, shrill ringtone—your father’s custom tone, some stupid jazz riff he insisted on—cuts through the haze of pleasure. Your body locks up instantly, thighs clamping around Toji’s waist, your breath catching in your throat.

Toji doesn’t stop moving. He doesn’t even slow down. His hips keep driving into you, deep and relentless. His eyes flick toward the sound—your phone vibrates on the passenger seat, screen lighting up with your father’s name and contact photo.

“Oh, shit-” You scramble, hands pushing at Toji’s chest. “Pull out, pull out!”

Toji’s grin is pure sin. He reaches over to grab your phone. He then holds it out to you, the screen still flashing.

“Answer it.”

Your eyes widened at him, horrified. “Are you insane?!”

“Naaah.” His hips snap forward, forcing a gasp out of you. “You’re gonna answer it just like this.”

The phone keeps ringing and your pulse thunders in your ears, now louder than the wet sounds of Toji moving inside you. You shake your head wildly, but he just thumbs the answer button and presses the phone to your ear.

“H-Hi, Daddy!”

Your father’s cheerful tone fills your ear. “Sweetheart! It’s dark out now, where are you? Did Toji fetch you?”

Toji’s fingers dig into your hip, his thrusts slowing to a tortuous grind. You bite your lip hard, but a whimper escapes anyway.

“Y-Yeah,” you choke out, fingers clawing at Toji’s forearm as he drives into you deeper. “He—nnggh—he did!”

Your father hums on the other end. “Great! So where are you guys? Traffic?”

Toji’s smirk is evil as he drags his cock out agonizingly slow before slamming right back in. The sudden force punches the air from your lungs, and you barely stifle a moan. You bite down on your knuckle hard enough to leave teeth marks.

“Oh- uh, y-yes!” you gasp, voice trembling. “Just a little delay!”

The lie burns hotter than the stretch of him inside you. Toji’s grip on your hip tightens, his other hand sliding up to squeeze one of your tits roughly, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple. You arch into his touch and your thighs shake as he fucks you with deliberate thrusts.

“Well, hurry home,” your father says. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Toji’s breath is hot against your ear as he leans in, lips grazing your skin. “Tell him you’ll be late,” he mumbles, voice thick with amusement.

You shake your head frantically, but he only thrusts harder, the tip of his cock hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

“Actually,” you blurt, voice pitching higher as Toji’s pace quickens, “I-I think we’re gonna grab dinner now.”

Your father sighs, the sound crackling through the speaker. “Fine, but don’t stay out too late.”

Toji chooses that moment to thrust hard, knocking the air from your lungs. A broken moan slips past your lips before you can smother it against your own wrist.

“Daddy, gotta go—bad signal!” you squeak, slapping at Toji's shoulder. He pulls the phone away with a smirk, ending the call before tossing it onto the floor.

“Fuckin' perfect,” he growls, gripping your thighs and flipping you onto your stomach in one brutal motion.

The leather seats squeak under your weight as he yanks your hips back, driving into you again without hesitation.

You cry out, face pressed into the seat, fingers scrambling for purchase as his pace turns ruthless. Every snap of his hips punches a ragged sound from your throat, his name tangled in the mess of your moans.

“Louder, baby,” Toji demands, one hand fisting in your hair to wrench your head back. “Wanna hear you.”

You sob his name as his other hand slides around your hip, thumb finding your clit and rubbing rough circles. The pleasure coils tight and unbearable.

“M’gonna cum,” you gasp, back arching. “T-Toji!”

His laugh is dark, breath hot against your ear. “Mhm. Do it.”

Your body locks around him as you shudder through the waves of your own climax. Toji doesn't stop, fucking you through it until you're whimpering from oversensitivity, his grip on your hip bruising. At some point, you think your brain has melted.

“One more,” he growls, and you barely have time to protest before his fingers are back on your clit, his thrusts angling deeper. “C'mon, baby. Give it to me.”

The orgasm hits you like a wrecking ball, your vision whiting out as your body clenches around him. Toji follows with a groan, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick.

The car reeks of sex, the windows fogged beyond recognition. Toji pulls out slowly, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as his thick cum oozes out of your swollen pussy.

You collapse against the leather seat, your body shuddering and breath shaking. Toji’s fingers trail lazily on your thigh and squeezes it, the touch almost gentle compared to the brutality of his fucking moments ago. The car is silent except for your uneven breathing and the occasional squeak of leather as he shifts beside you. The scent of sweat and sex hangs thick in the air.

“Fuck,” Toji mumbles, voice rough. “That’s gonna stain.”

You turn your head just enough to glare at him, still trying to catch your breath. “We just fucked and you’re worried about stains?”

He smirks, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your hair. “Nah. Just messin’ with you.” His thumb brushes your lower lip. “You good?”

The question catches you off guard. You blink, feeling the aftershocks still pulsing between your thighs.

You nod weakly, legs still spread, too fucked-out to move.

Toji chuckles, reaching over to drag a finger through the mess between your thighs. You flinch, oversensitive, but he doesn’t stop, pushing his thick cum back into your pussy with a possessive little smirk.