Toji invites you over with a simple text of:
You busy tonight, doll?
To which you respond with:
I don't think so... Not that I know of. Why?
He laughs through his nose when he reads your message. Even the way you text him has your timidness imbued into it. It's precious.
Come spend the night at my place. You told me you're off tomorrow, right?
I am, but are you sure? Driving home is not a problem for me. I can hang out and go home after.
You're staying. I wanna try something with you and it requires you to stay the night. You can't go home.
Oh okay! I'll be there in 10.
Drive safe.
Toji likes that you're very precise about the time you'll be arriving somewhere, and if you're ever late when it comes to spending time with him, you apologize profusely, nonstop. You won't stop blubbering about why you're late and how sorry you are for making him wait, even after Toji's expressed that he's more than understanding. He's the king of showing up late to plans, so he can't be a hypocrite and scold you when you don't do it often at all.
You're so sorry, though, and you don't shut up about it until he makes you shut up with a kiss. You're helpless, and you can't for the life of you figure out where to put your hands when you're so focused on the grip he had on your waist to pull you up against him.
He releases your lips, cracking a grin at the look of wonder on your face. He can't deny the pride that swells in his chest at his ability to disarm you and prevent you from having a total meltdown over a three minute delay.
Toji has gotten so much better at handling situations like these with you. It's only fair for him to gain satisfaction out of making you feel better. After all, you are a first for him. You're emotionally fragile, you're a nervous wreck, and your voice competes with the wind just to be heard. Toji doesn't set aside the fact that you're also beautiful, warmhearted, and you try for him. He sees your attempts to be affectionate. You'll slowly reach your hand out to hold his and then bail the second he catches you. He ends up having to interlock his fingers with yours because your embarrassment doesn't allow you to try again. He still appreciates that you leave your comfort zone for him and allow him to guide you towards new experiences.
"Stop with the guilty feelings, ma. We have all night and all day tomorrow. What's a couple minutes to ensure you get to me in one piece?" He says, comforting your droopy self. You look like a sad, abandoned puppy, now sporting rosy cheeks from his surprising gesture.
"Okay," you say, feeling a little more at ease. "What did you have in mind for tonight?"
"Follow me," he says, leading you through his living room to his kitchen. He pulls out a stool for you and points at it. "Sit." You want to laugh at the way he says it like he's teaching commands to a dog, but you know he doesn't mean it that way, so you obediently sit down like one anyway.
"Have you eaten anything?" He asks, silently hoping you have because he doesn't have anything to make you dinner. He would have to order in or pick something up.
"I ate a couple hours ago. Still pretty full," you respond, watching him reach up for something in his cabinets. There's now a tall glass bottle with a red label and matching cap sitting on the counter.
"How 'bout it?" He says, a large hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "We could go to the couch and watch a movie or something."
He's never seen you under the influence of anything, but based on your reaction, maybe he'll get a show tonight. He's always wanted to know what you would be like if you were more extroverted and outspoken. There's nothing wrong with the way you are, but if things keep going the way they're going between you and Toji, he's bound to meet your chatty alter ego at some point in the future. What better way to have this experience than in a secure place with someone who can handle their alcohol and take care of you if it turns out that you can't.
"Okay, sure." You giggle, excitedly.
You're a lightweight. Even the fruitiest, sweetest alcoholic beverage will quickly take a toll on you while you're sipping on it. Wine is a step up, so you'll have to try your best to keep it together for the sake of not looking sloppy in front of Toji.
Toji brings down two glasses, and pours out the deep red liquid into them. One for you, one for him. He hands the glass to you, and nods at your quiet "thank you".
Toji watches as you immediately take a sip. He sees the way your nose scrunches at what you consider to be a funny taste, but the second you put the glass down, you smile like nothing. You don't like it at all. You hate the bitterness, and the fact that it's made with fermented grapes lives in the back of your head.
"How is it?" He asks, holding back a chuckle. You're too sweet for your own good, pretending to enjoy this for him.
"I like it," you say, pressing your lips together.
"Yeah? I think it's kinda gross. Guess I was expecting more from a fancy ass bottle, but brands are gonna brand, huh?"
You giggle, almost involuntarily. You're one gulp in, and already you're starting to feel the effects.
One of your worst habits includes chugging drinks that don't taste good, just so you can get them over with. You even do this when your drink is messed up at coffee shop. You're too nice to ask the barista to remake it, so you suck it up and drink the incorrect beverage solely for the caffeine you hope it has in it. This time is no different. You hate the taste of alcohol. You don't do plain shots, you can't stand hard ciders, and wine is no exception, but you're doing this for Toji. He cracked open the bottle to share with you, so you're going to drink every ounce of the liquid in the glass, whether you like the taste or not.
You bring the glass to your lips again, taking a much larger sip. The glass is a little less than halfway now, and your eyelids are starting to feel a little heavy. Not in a sleepy manner, but you can't seem to hold your eyes open as wide anymore.
You exhale through your nose, shut your eyes, and then blink them back open to take note of your altered state.
"That was a lot. How are you feeling?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in your demeanor. You seem a little more sluggish now. You turn your attention to him, your eyes rolling when they turn to meet his.
"I'm good, how are you?" You ask, like it was the start of a conversation rather than an ongoing one. Your eyes almost shut completely when you smile at him.
"You're tipsy already, aren't you?" He asks, with a grin on his face.
"Pshh, what? No, i'm not," you say, contradicting yourself with a giggle. "Answer the question, baby. How are you?"
"Fine," he responds, lingering on the pet name. You've got loose lips, now. In any other circumstance, you would address him by his name. Most of the time Toji is the one giving you pet names, for the sake of flustering you. He loves the way you look at him when he calls you doll or sweetheart, somewhat shocked every time the words leave his mouth.
"Yeah? That's good." You pick up the glass one more time, sighing before you mutter, "'scuse me. Gotta finish this."
With that last sip, the glass was now empty. Even Toji thinks you drank that too fast, but he still has the courtesy to ask you if you want more.
"Mhm, I'll have a little bit more. Just a tiny bit." Toji pours as much as he did the first time, chuckling when you nod in approval of the quantity. "That's perfect. Absolutely, perfect. You're a genius, my love." You flash him a smile before starting on the next glass.
Toji was considering having another glass, but that was before you called him "my love" in a tone so warm that he felt like he just had a bowl of hot soup that was now settling in his stomach. That was before you smiled at him in such a free spirited manner. It was too late for him to see you in this state while completely sober, but he sure as hell wouldn't be adding anymore alcohol to his system. He can't miss something like this, so instead he leans forward on the counter, and intently watches your every move.
"I got something on my face?" You ask, dragging your sleeves all over your face. You examine your sleeves and they're clean. "You liar. You're looking at me like that for nothing." You squint at him, a slight scrunch in your nose to define your defensiveness.
Toji laughs, his focus now on the small pinch in your brows. "Don't go picking fights over nothing. It's not a crime to look at my pretty baby."
Your faux tough exterior immediately crumbles, the irked expression on your face dropping to the ground, at the sugary words he uses on you. Your face feels very warm, and now there's an indefinite blush on it. You can't stop smiling at the look on Toji's face. He's so focused that he's gone speechless, and you eventually break into a laughing fit because of it.
"Hey... i'm usually the quiet one. Why aren't you talking, pretty boy? Need me to shut up?"
The pet name has Toji glancing at your glass, noticing that it was full for less than five minutes. This was new— you being flirtatious towards him. He didn't have any complaints about it whatsoever.
Once again, the quantity of the wine in your glass was below the halfway mark. "Nah, baby. Talk to me. You must really like the wine, huh?"
"Mmm..." you lean forward towards him, with your elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm. "What makes you say that?"
He actually snickers this time, earning a sly grin from you. "You're chugging it like it's water. It's either you love it or it tastes like ass and you're dying to spit it out."
You pick up the glass again, one last time. "Let's find out if I like it," you say as if you're not on your second serving. You let the liquid hit your tongue, and you are instantly repulsed by the flavor. The glass is tilted all the way up, signaling that you've finished two cups of wine in less than fifteen minutes. Your cheeks are filled with the drink, blown up like a puffer fish, which makes Toji smile softly with anticipation for your reaction. Your tongue stays on the roof of your mouth, keeping the wine in your cheeks separate, to give you a break for a few seconds. You release the bubbles of your cheeks and your mouth is flooded with the bittersweet liquid. You swallow the burgundy mouthful and smile with your lips pressed together once it's all gone. The mouth drying effect of wine is your least favorite thing about it.
"So?" Toji prompts.
"It's-" you gag, clasping a hand over your mouth with wide, slightly teary eyes.
Toji's chest and shoulders shake as he contains his laughter, his lips pressed together tightly to stifle the smile threatening to show itself, but his eyes tell you everything.
"Wooo, sorry about that," you say, chuckling through the embarrassment. "It's good," you repeat, still muffled by your palm.
"Yeah? Want more?" Toji asks, holding up the bottle with a teasing grin on his face.
You almost gag again but manage to control yourself. "No, thank you. Any more and I'll doze off, and we both know that's not what i'm here for." There was a hint of sultriness in your tone, something Toji was not sufficiently familiar with. It was a completely welcome shift from your normally tentative way of speaking to him.
"I know why you're here, but I wanna know what you think you're here for."
You stand from your stool and lean more of your body onto the counter. Your hand reaches for his, and for the first time, you don't pull back before making contact with his skin. "To love on you, of course," you say, with those pretty rosy cheeks. Your eyes remained glossy and your nose was still red from trying not to bring the wine back up earlier, but Toji thought you looked so cute.
"Is that right?" His thumb brushes over your knuckles, feeling the softness against his rough fingertip.
"Let's go watch that movie you were talking about and you'll see what I mean."
Toji was loving this. Your confidence, your lack of holding back anything you had to say, it was truly baffling how you could be someone else entirely with just a couple glasses of wine.
You keep his hand in yours, and as if it were your house, you say, "come on," and drag him along to the living room.
This time you say "sit" and point at the couch. This time he's the obedient dog and does as you say, sitting on the exact cushion you were pointing at with a smirk on his face. He moves the couch pillow aside to make room for you, but you had another seat in mind. You take two steps towards him before slowly dropping yourself into his lap, straddling him.
"I see you're finally taking your seat on the throne, hm?" He grins, resting his hands on your waist. This is the closest Toji's been allowed to watch you giggle without you burying your face into his neck and it's a trip. He can see the details of the creases around your eyes and the lift in your cheeks as you smile. He feels fuzzy, and he didn't even finish his glass of wine, so he knows it's not that.
"Stop making me laugh and pick a movie, will you? I'm here for that, too."
He picks up the remote for the TV and turns it on. "How are you gonna watch the movie while facing me?"
"Actually,.. can I tell you a secret, baby?" You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the hair that reaches towards the nape of his neck, combing through it gently.
"What's that, princess?" Toji asks, vert eyes flitting between your eyes and that sweet smile of yours.
"I don't wanna watch a movie. I... wanna look at you... and that's it." Your nails gently scratch the back of his head, eliciting a tingly sensation that makes chills run down his spine.
"That's cool, too," Toji says, turning the TV off again, not caring that it was on for less than a minute before you changed your mind. He sighs, adjusting his position beneath you. Your thighs are secured around his hips, your knees touching the backrest of the couch.
"You're so handsome, my baby. God, look at those eyes," you whisper in awe, before giggling and bringing your hands to his face. You trace the bags under his eyes with your thumbs while admiring the haunting shade of green that scopes on you. Toji's hand comes up to loosely wrap around your wrist. He's not there to stop you, he just wants to move along with you as you observe his face.
"I know I don't say this to you enough, but I find you..." you sigh, blinking slowly, "enchanting..." You lean in and kiss the left corner of his lips—his right, and feel the smooth, tattered skin beneath your warm lips. "and I love you," you mumble into the cicatrix. "So fucking much, baby. And i'm sorry that you'll never know exactly how much because you aren't me." You're looking at him with so much adoration and touching him with a delicacy that can't be put into words. It's a deadly combination, one that has Toji in a chokehold and forces him to soften up even more for you.
He tightens the hold he has on your waist, pulling you closer until your stomach is pressed to his, as a result. You being so affectionate towards him is making him feel really good, and you have no idea because you're too focused on appreciating him. He's subconsciously leaning into your touch, his softened gaze meeting your lovestruck one.
"Fuck. I love you, too, princess," he murmurs, squeezing your wrist in his hand. He pulls your hand down to his chest. "Want you to aim for my lips, this time."
"Okay," you say, smiling before closing the distance between your lips and Toji's. He can still taste the remnants of the wine you inhaled minutes ago, but it tastes much better and a lot sweeter on you. Toji can hear your high pitched little hums as you kiss him, happiness pouring into your kisses. You're trying so hard not to laugh in his face, and trying is the best you can do, right now. You never were good at hiding your smile from Toji. He can't see it, but he can feel the way your lips widen, and he's occasionally kissing your teeth when your sluggishness keeps you from matching his pace. With little pants leaving you, you drag your lips away.
He sighs, frustrated by the loss of your softness against him. "Baby..." he groans, the sound almost whine-like to your ears. He wants more, so much more of you, and you're ignoring him. You're too busy kissing his chin, and his cheeks, and the tip of his nose.
You drag your other hand down to his chest and keep your hands splayed out on it as you let your lips trail his jaw, lightly sucking on the skin. Toji can't help but think about how this version of you will be gone in the morning. You won't be as outwardly affectionate, you'll go back to second guessing every move you make with him and shrinking every time he steals kisses from you, instead of confidently kissing him back like you did a minute ago.
You make your way down his neck, pressing kiss after kiss on him before you move towards his ear. "I love you, Toji," you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear after. "Love you, love you, love you soooo much," you barrage, before throwing him off with a bite to his earlobe. You giggle like a menace into his ear, the warmth of your breath luring goosebumps out onto his skin.
He chuckles, repeatedly squeezing the soft skin of your waist between his hands. "Yeah? Tell me again," he murmurs snaking his hands beneath the back of your shirt. Your skin is very warm, and there's nothing to blame but Toji and that shitty wine for making your body react this way.
With uninterrupted hands, you course your fingers through his hair and lean in to bite him again, this time on his neck. Toji chuckles at how you instantly rush to soothe him with your tongue and a warm kiss, even when you inflicted zero pain on him.
"I love you, Toji," you repeat into the wet indentations you left behind. "My love... my handsome man... I cherish you, you know?"
Toji is practically purring at all the affection you're showering him with. The slurring of your words is blocked out and they remain clear as day to him. He manages to hum a deep little "mhm" to your last statement.
"It's just so hard to talk to you sometimes. You... you're so intimidating, sometimes. I don't expect you to understand..." you divert your gaze to his shoulder, not able to look him in the eyes as vulnerability takes sudden control of your emotions. "It seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes—all the time, but I do, Toji. I do appreciate you, and I can't ever say I love you enough to show it. Words aren't always enough."
Toji catches the waver in your voice and his eyes dart to yours. You're tearing up, and you're trying to still your quivering lips by pressing them together.
"Shit," Toji mutters under his breath. You have the saddest expression he's ever seen and it's messing with his heart. He pulls his hands out of your shirt so that he can swiftly pull you into his warm embrace. "Hey," he coos. You're shaking against him, holding your breath to avoid sobbing. Your lungs burn, but you'd rather feel that than make a scene of your tears. "Don't be sad, mama. What's with the tears, hm?" he murmurs. He can feel your tears dampening his shoulder, but the fact that you haven't made a sound is concerning. "Breathe or you'll die," he says, only half joking. He rubs a soothing palm against your back, his other arm around your waist.
You let out what sounds like a mixture between a choked laugh and a sob, slowly but surely regulating your breathing. You don't even feel like saying anything anymore because you know your voice will give way to even more pity.
"You're more than enough for me," Toji says, his chin resting on your head. "I know how you feel, you know how I feel. We're complete." He can feel the way you scrunch his shirt up into your fists. As if he would go anywhere without you. "I get you and you're stuck with me. Got it?" You silently nod against his shoulder in response. "Sit up and let me look at you."
You really don't want him to see you this way. Your eyes feel swollen and you don't feel presentable.
"I can't..." you say, barely audible. You release his shirt and let your hands go limp behind him.
"Why not?"
"I'm not pretty right now. Don't look at me."
"I'm gonna look at you," he challenges with a teasing grin.
"Toji, don't look at me."
"Too late, it's happening. Plan's already in motion," he says, sliding his arms onto your shoulders.
"Toji, don't-" He effortlessly pushes you off his shoulder and gives you a once over. You look defeated and you're unable to look him in the eyes, but at least he can see you now.
"Don't know what you were so worried about. You look the same but more blush-y." You finally give him your slightly reddened eyes, a soft smile appearing on your face. You look like your sober self. "Yeah, you look the same."
"Are you lying?" You ask, still not regaining the full strength of your voice yet.
"I wouldn't tell you if I was, but no, i'm not lying. You're so pretty." Toji wiped away tears that were stuck beneath your eyes, and you giggled. He washed away your sadness within a couple minutes. Toji always did this for you in exchange for your love and affection. He lifted your spirits when you didn't feel deserving of him, and with time, he got much better at recognizing the signs that came with this ridiculous idea you planted in your head.
"You're done loving on me? Already?" He asks in playful disbelief.
"You're not done with me? Do you actually want more?" You ask, hesitantly.
"Don't want more, I need more," he corrects, returning his hands to their rightful place on your waist. "Get all up on me, princess."
You giggle, leaning closer towards him to peck a kiss onto his cheek.
"Mhm, like that," he says, contently, when you pick up the pace and start smothering him. "Yeah, baby, there you go." His forearms go beneath your shirt, encircling around your bare waist and pulling you close to him like before. "Who's getting spoiled like me?" He says through a grin. You're holding back laughs as he continues to praise you for your affection.
"S-Stop," you say through a wheeze, not able to contain the sound any longer when you looked at him.
"What are you laughing at, huh?" He chases you this time, pressing his nose into your cheek before planting a light kiss into your jaw.
"You're so unserious," you say, turning your head as he keeps going with the kisses.
"Mmm... I'm serious about you," he says, feeling the vibration of your laughter against his grin. "So serious."
Your cheeks feel incredibly hot from how much you've been smiling. In this little drunken haze, things are so good. You're so happy, you're so affectionate, and you talk so much. This isn't like you at all, but it's not hurting anyone, especially not Toji. There was one minor slip, but you moved past it so quickly like the words never left your head to begin with. You're just so simple... so easy to take care of.
Toji notices the way your eyes are starting to lid with tiredness, and while he would love for you to doze off in his arms right then and there, you'd probably prefer waking up in a bed.
"Let's go to bed, yeah?" He suggests.
"What? No! I just got here... We can still talk, and kiss and- I'm not even tired."
Toji grins at the way you fight him on this, and he has half a mind to indulge you when you look so adorable, but he has to stand his ground. He's right.
"But, you are. You can't even hold your eyes open, anymore."
You feel sad again because the rest of the night would be going to waste if you both go to sleep early. You're there to spend time with Toji, and yet you feel like it's your fault your time is being cut short. You're thinking you shouldn't have drank the wine so quickly, if at all.
"Listen, doll," Toji says. He doesn't like the sadness that resurfaces on your pretty face. He doesn't think you should look that way because of him. "We're just gonna go lay in bed. We don't have to go to sleep. We can stay up as long as you want. Light on or light off, whatever you wanna do, let's just move it to the room."
You sigh, still not completely convinced that the night isn't over, but Toji managed to persuade you. "Will you carry me, please? My legs feel like jelly."
"Of course. What kind of person would I be if I let you stumble into the room on your own?"
You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, your face buried into the crook of his neck. "You'd still be my favorite person, but i'd be a little upset..."
Toji stands from the couch, humming in response to your quiet mumbles.
"...but not really upset. Just a little bummed. Not for too long, though, 'cause I love you, but I would expect an apology from you if I fell down," you draw out.
Toji cracks at your little ramblings. It's a ten second walk from the couch to the bedroom, and the whole time you were working through a hypothetical conflict.
"Yeah? You'd want me to say sorry?" He asks, setting you down on the bed.
"Mhm, and then I wouldn't be upset or bummed anymore," you mutter to yourself as you roll onto your back.
"That's fair. Want the light on or off?"
"Off," you blurt. "Let's tell scary stories," you trill, enthusiastically. You pull the blanket over your lower body until it reaches just below your chest.
Toji makes his way to the bed after turning off the light. He takes his shirt off, and out of habit lets it fall to the floor. "We're not telling scary stories this late at night," he says, joining you beneath the blanket.
"But, they're funny," you say, turning to face him. "I don't get scared, either."
"Depends on who's telling the story. I'm sure as hell not gonna feed you a nightmare, doll."
"Boo," you say, lowly. "Whatever, i'm over it already," you mutter, rolling your eyes.
Toji watches you grow more and more tired as you throw random, nonsensical topics at him. You're taking longer to respond by the minute, and you're dozing off while humming in thought. You shake awake each time it happens and try to keep the conversation going, but Toji just shushes you and tells you to go back to sleep.
"I can see the moon through the window," you mumble, looking past him.
"I know, shh..." he hushes you, again.
"There's only like... one star," you whisper, in awe.
"Baby, come here," Toji says, like he's about to lecture you about the rules of sleep, but really he's just thinking that if his body heat doesn't put you down, he's gonna have to stay up with you until you fall asleep on your own.
You scoot closer towards Toji, tucking your arms into your chest when he reaches out to pull you into him the rest of the way. His body exudes so much warmth, you feel like you don't need the blanket at all.
There was nothing left for you to say when you couldn't see or feel anything but him. It was as if you were gone the second he enveloped you in his arms. You were small to the brink of nonexistence, no longer there to tell him what your surroundings were, or to ask him thoughtless, silly questions. You were no longer there to fight off the sleep he only seemed to bring closer towards you. Feeling his warm skin against you made you change your mind about this invisible fiend that was pulling your eyelids down. You now welcomed the calls to rest from your steady heartbeats.
Your silence gave him the answer he needed, but for good measure, he poked at you with a whisper of, "Ma?" and waited a few seconds for your response. Nothing. He sighed and coiled around you tighter. Thoughts of the night ran through his head. Your soft, yet, occasionally bruising kisses and the imprints of your teeth on his skin, your unapologetic laughter, your certainty in using the pet names that claimed him as yours. He was weak for the amount of times you openly told him you loved him. It was a psychedelic dream, to say the least. One he hoped would continue once he followed you into slumber.
You woke up hours later, completely smothered by your bear of a man. All you could do was stare up at the ceiling, while you waited for Toji to wake up because he was literally breathing down your neck. His arm rested over your chest, his legs were tangled with yours, and his face was right beside your face. You weren't feeling the effects of the wine anymore, and luckily, you didn't have a headache or any signs of a hangover. You were back, which meant...
"What are you staring at?" A deep, raspy voice jolts you out of your thoughts.
You look at the handsome face next to you, and as if your heart can hear and see, it wakes up. "Nothing. Just woke up," you lie.
"Mm... you were staring hard at the roof. I thought it came to life or something," Toji chuckles. You smile, briefly, before looking at the ceiling again.
Toji releases you and flips onto his back, wanting to know what's so fascinating about the space you're looking at. "What are you thinking?" He asks, when he discovers nothing but blank space.
You take your time, not wanting to stumble over your words. Your heart skips a beat when he turns his head to look at you. In the time it takes for you to respond, you both could have gone back to sleep again.
"A penny for your thoughts?" he finally says, following the idiom with a question. "Did I even use that correctly?"
You can't help but laugh, nodding your head to answer his question. "I'm thinking about last night. Sorry if I said anything stupid."
Toji turns his body towards you again, thinking the only thing that's stupid is that he's still staring at the roof instead of staring at you. "You didn't. You were calm, from what I got to see, at least."
"So... boring."
"Not boring," he instantly catches. "You were perfect. You didn't have me running around chasing you, you weren't a brat—it couldn't have gone better, ma." He purposely missed something in his less than brief recount of the night to you. He can think back to the emotions that seeped through your little daze, and your insecurity about outwardly showing him love, all he wants, but there's no way in hell he's bringing that up to you, now. "You ramble a lot," he adds, a soft smile emerging on his face.
You can feel your cheeks warming up. "Oh god," you groan in embarrassment. "That's not- Sorry, that sounds... not so fun. Annoying of me, actually."
"Stop, it was cute," he assures, adding more fury to the blush creeping on your face. "Then you wouldn't go to sleep 'cause you kept seeing stuff outside the window."
You wanted to drown yourself in the blanket. Shame and embarrassment were winning their battle against you, as always.
"That was also cute," he says, watching the way your lips twitch as you bite back a smile. "You know my favorite part, though?" He says, grinning as he leans towards your ear.
"N-No, what?" You ask, trying so hard not to giggle.
"When you kissed me and told me you loved me," he murmurs into your ear like it's a dirty secret.
You snicker, the short sound of amusement evolving into laughter within seconds. You throw the blanket over your face and partially over Toji's face. The sight of your veiled body shaking with laughter lured out a couple chuckles of his own.
"That's funny?" He asks, pulling the blanket down, allowing you to see the sly grin he's sporting.
"A little bit," you respond, smiling— a remainder of your laughter.
"Silly girl. Come here," he says, dragging you back into his arms. "There's no reason you should be awake at six in the morning on your day off. Let's go back to sleep," he murmurs into the crown of your head. "We can go out for breakfast, later."
"Okay," you mumble, eyes shut already as you embrace the natural warmth of his body.
"One more thing," he murmurs. You don't raise your gaze, but your ears are open and you're listening closely. "Tell me you love me."
You didn't expect that, but you weren't going to deny him of such a simple thing. The words were easy to recite because you meant them with every fiber of your being. "I love you, Toji," you comply, immediately.
He sighs, contently, almost like hearing those words revitalized him. "Love you, too, mama."
That went out to every version of you.
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THREE'S A CROWD - SATORU GOJO AND SUGURU GETO
✴︎ summary: professors satoru gojo and suguru geto rarely wanted the same thing at the same time -- that was until you.
✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, professor au, gojo is a physics prof and geto is a ethics prof, competition style smut, so much smut, handjobs (f!+m! receiving), oral (f!+m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dom! + sub!gojo, dom!geto, degradation (whore), praise kink (gojo + reader), semi public sex, office sex, double penetration, pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby, pretty)
✴︎ wc: 12,596 (again what's wrong with me)
There was little Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto did actually compete over — growing up as best friends, most would have expected a little healthy competition, and there were disagreements, arguments, and even a few fist-fights here and there, but there weren’t many things both desired at the same time.
Until you.
A new professor at Jujutsu Tech University, you were fairly green, but your reputation as an academic had preceded you, and landed you a position at this prestigious university. And right in the crosshairs of these two best friends who also happened to hold positions there — ones who were surely some of the most coveted on campus amongst faculty and students alike. There were little times where you would find one professor without the other outside of the classroom — Professor Gojo had even somehow annoyed Chancellor Yaga into having his office next door to Geto’s.
Professor Gojo taught Intro to Physics as well as a few other related courses, including one about the infinite nature of the universe, while Professor Geto busied himself with teaching Introduction to Ethics, and other related courses, including one that was solely based around the trolley problem.
“The trolley problem?” you asked, sitting in Geto’’s classroom, hanging around his desk, as he was beginning to clean the board of his notes from the class you had sat in on — a part of the mentoring program at the university for newly burgeoning professors — giving a sense of camaraderie and community. Right now, all it was giving you was an understanding of why there was an influx of women interested in ethics. Geto had his jet black locks tied into a neat bun, a lock hanging loose that framed his face — one that you had both the urge tuck back into his bun, but also twirl it between your fingers. His crisp white button up was unbuttoned a few buttons down after class, a deep ivy sweater vest thrown over it, “how can you teach an entire class on that single problem?”
“Almost any problem in ethics could be the subject of a semester-long debate, especially the trolley problem,” he chuckles, as he turns to you, placing the eraser down a moment, as he rolls up his sleeves to prevent residue from staining his shirt. His fingers expertly unbuttoned the cuffs, before carefully rolling them up, “the trolley problem has many iterations, it dissects the concept of a moral quandary to a science, creating the idea of an impossible choice with no right answer,”
“Many things in life have no right answer, but there’s always a choice to be made,” you hum, “what would be your solution to the trolley problem?”
“The fact is that there is no right answer, but there are right questions to ask and things to consider,” he shrugs, “most people don’t know truly what their answer would be in that situation — some think it would be better to sit helpless, letting fate decide, others think that they would choose the answer that saved their loved ones, and some think they would choose the answer that benefited the most people — but the way the problem can be formulated has so many iterations that almost any answer could be swayed,”
“And are you so easily swayed?” and he shrugs, pursing his lips.
“I’d like to think not,” he smiled — and you knew why so many people had crushes on him and Gojo — not only their looks, but their intelligence.
You hum at his words, still utterly more enthralled by the way his forearms looked, and judging by his raised eyebrow, he noticed, “But why an entire course about it?”
And he shrugged, as he crossed his arms, smirking as your eyes flicker back from his arms to his gaze, “It’s one of my favorite ethical dilemmas, wouldn’t you want to teach a course on your favorite subject?”
“I would simply like to learn my way around the university without having to come an hour early to account for getting lost on campus,” and he laughs, a noise that makes your heart squeeze, his lips curled in a smile — and you hide your own, happy you were the one who made him make that incredible noise, “It’s 50-50 whether or not I’ll find my car after this,”
“Well, I could help with that,” he steps forward, hands in his pockets now, thumbs visible on either side, “show you around? Show you the spots to see, what to avoid, maybe even how to stare without being obvious?” and you flush at his words, knitting your brow together to feign innocence, “nice innocent act, maybe it’d work on someone else — not on me, sweetheart,”
And you can’t stop the next question from tumbling out of your mouth, “What would work on you then?”
This was a bad idea — you had just started here two weeks ago, and here you were flirting with not only a professor, but the professor assigned to be your mentor here, one of the two professors everyone had their eyes on—you needed to stop.
Then he smirked, a wicked grin that only left you wanting more — more of that smirk, more of his words, more of him, “That’s for you to find out,” he offered you a hand, “so shall we find out?”
And find out you did—
—Find out just how skilled he was with that sharp tongue of his.
It wasn’t supposed to end up this way — the tour was innocent enough. He helped you get down a route from your parking spot to your office to your classroom, he showed you the good spots to escape for the day, the best spots around campus to eat or get a coffee or tea, and then you ended up in his office. He had offered you a drink — an expensive sake bottle that he had gotten from the chancellor for his good work.
“Satoru doesn’t drink so usually, I end up drinking alone, so this is a nice change of pace,” and you snort slightly, as he raises an eyebrow, as he pours the shots, “and what’s funny about that?” he asks, offering you a small shot glass filled with the sake that you swirled before downing. And he did the same, eyes still glued to you, a small trickle of the sake slipping out of your corner of your lips.
“Just the idea of you drinking in the office alone, it’s a little sad,” you chuckle, “do you not have many friends aside from Satoru?” as you pour yourself and him another shot, not noticing how he walks over nor how close he is.
“I’m very selective about who I spend my time with?” and your cheeks warm, and it's not from the alcohol, as his voice is low when he speaks, “and well, I’m not alone now, am I?” he looms over you, his hand resting on the arm of your chair, caging you in, his other hand reaching to rest fingers against your chin, “you’re here,”
“Geto—”
“Suguru,” he corrected, his eyes sliding over your body, “you’re not one of my students, Professor,” and heat trickles down your body at his words, as he leans down, tongue darting out to lick the trail of sake from the corner of your lips, “but it seems like I have a lot to teach you, regardless,”
You shiver at his actions, “We shouldn’t—”
“Lesson one, nothing in the code of ethics prevents any consensual relationship amongst staff members,” his lengthy fingers trace your jawline, before he kisses along it, “lesson two, there’s nothing unethical about our relationship — our mentor/mentee relationship period is ending now, and we are simply colleagues—“ his thumb drags down your plush lips, pulling at your bottom one, “for now,”
“Suguru,” and he’s leaning even closer.
“And lesson three, that I only can teach you if you return my feelings,” his lips are a centimeter away, breath warming your lips, his bangs brushing against your skin, “so the question remains, Professor, do you?”
You nod wordlessly, breath caught as your fingers brush his cheek now, “I do, please—“
And his lips curl, “Good girl,” he leans down, kissing you softly, lips parting only after a moment, and then you lean up again. He’s smiling against your lips, as his hand slides to the back of your neck, more insistent this time as you taste the sake on his mouth — and somehow it’s more sweet on his lips that it was on your tongue.
Your lips part again, a breath away, foreheads brushing, as your fingers grasp onto the soft front of his sweater to ground yourself on something, before it slides against the toned surface of his chest under all the academic wear.
“Like what you feel, Princess?” And you flush, cheeks burning as you give an almost undetectable nod, and he chuckles, “good, because so do I,”
And his head is leaning down for another kiss when there’s a knock at the door, “Yo Suguru!” And Suguru moves back, just as the door swings open, as you struggle to grasp onto any semblance of decorum, as Satoru Gojo enters.
“Don’t you know it’s good manners to wait to hear a person say ‘come in’ after you knock, Satoru?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed — his composure impressive for a man who had kissed you breathless not a minute ago.
“Huh?” Gojo glares at Suguru, lips twisted in a frown, “Haven’t I made enough progress for you? At least I started knocking,” Gojo huffs, smirk on his lips, as he glances at you now, “oh it’s the newbie,” and your gaze slides up to his, a polite smile on your lips, and you almost feel like his cerulean gaze lingers on your lips a moment too long, his gaze sliding back to his best friend, “am I interrupting?”
Satoru Gojo stood framed in the doorway, and he was picturesque — an academic’s wet dream in his blue button up with navy suit coat slung over his shoulders.
“Only a celebratory welcome and end to our mentoring period,” Suguru shrugs, sliding a smile behind Gojo’s back when Gojo turns back to you, “would you like to join us? We were just having some sake,”
He grimaces, “Doesn’t sound like much of a celebration,” he looks to you, sly grin playing on his lips, “she looks like she’d much prefer something sweet, isn’t that right?”
You blink, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind,” and Gojo winks, offering you his hand, your view of Suguru’s scowl obscured.
“Sounds like the lady has spoken — there’s a great place that sells kikufuku not far from campus—“
“We actually have plans for dinner, Satoru,” Suguru cuts in, as you furrow your brow — since when? “And I think a discussion of her future and trajectory at the university is more important than enjoying sweets,”
Gojo only grins, his body grazing the side of your chair as he steps away, hands in his pockets, “Well all work and no play doesn’t sound very fun to me, does it, Professor?”
You crack a smile, “Sounds like you have the opposite philosophy, Gojo,”
“Satoru,” he corrects, his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.
“Satoru,” you say and his lips curl into a grin before Suguru clasps a hand on Satoru’s shoulder.
“Don’t you have papers to grade?” And Suguru’s tone left little to be argued with, and Satoru only sighs dramatically, crossing his arms.
“Fine, fine,” he slides a last look at you, as you rise to your feet, “pleasure meeting you, we’ll have to have dessert some other time,” and he leans forward to whisper this last part in your ear, “though I think I’ll have trouble finding something as sweet as you,”
Your cheeks flush, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Suguru as Satoru leaves, and Suguru only smiles at you, “Shall we go?”
You don’t notice the slight edge to his voice, or the way his eyes slide to glare at the door, as you busy yourself gathering your things, “Since when did we have dinner plans?” You ask, your last word coming out as a squeak, as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you much too close.
“Since I wanted to spend more time with you, is that a problem?” he murmurs against the same ear whispered into, teeth grazing the soft flesh of your earlobe, and you bite your lip, sighing as his lips slide to your jaw, “well, is it?”
And you shake your head, “Never,” and he’s leading you out of his office, and you don’t notice the way his eyes narrow when his eyes narrow as he glances at Satoru’s office right next door.
~~~
“Don’t work too hard,” and your gaze snaps up to find Gojo at your office door, leaning against the door frame, “your face could freeze like that,”
“And would that be a bad thing?” you rolled your eyes, as you pulled yourself away from the stack of exams you were stuck grading since the university hadn’t bothered to assign you a T.A. yet.
He takes your reply as an invitation to come in, swinging the office door shut behind him, “No, not at all, but I’d prefer to see those pretty lips in a smile,” and your lips curl, as he adds, “plus you’ll end up looking like Suguru — a perpetual stick up his ass,”
You snort, “You two have nothing but lovely things to say about the other,” you say sarcastically, “but i guess that’s best friends for you,”
“Nah, Suguru really does have a stick up his ass — pretty sure its a requirement for all ethics professors,” he shrugs, as he opts to lean against your desk rather than sit in either of the chairs, “now, can I take you to have that dessert I mentioned before? Looks like you could use a break,” his eyes glance over the stack of exams piled upon your desk, “let me be your solace, sweetheart — the world of academia is a harsh place,”
You offer a small smile, “I’m stuck grading these exams — I have to have the grades in by tomorrow, and I still have about thirty-two to get through,”
“Don’t you have a T.A. to pass this off on?” and you shake your head, and he hums, taking out his phone, “I’ll reach out to the Chancellor for you — let him see what the hold up is. The old geezer owes me one anyway,”
“You don’t have to—”
He only continues to type, without looking up, “I want to,” and before sending off his email, “should be able to get a student assigned to you soon, and I asked him to give you an extension as well, so now you have no excuse,” he grins, plucking the pen from your fingers, his fingers brushing your own, before offering his hand, “shall we?”
But there was one excuse you hadn’t exhausted yet — “Satoru—”
“You’re really making me work for it, beauty,” he rubs the back of his head, smile on his lips, “not that I don’t mind playing hard to get, but you know, I do always get what I want—”
“What about Suguru?” and his smile fades, expression unreadable.
“And what about him?” you sigh, leaning back.
“I assume you know—”
“About the fact you two have been hooking up?” he shrugs, as you flush at his bluntness, “yeah, and what about it?”
You stare at Satoru, thoroughly confused by his nonchalance, “Wouldn’t that—”
“I’ve already spoken to Suguru, he’s fine if I pursue you as well,” he smiles, as he rounds the corner of your desk to stand closer, “and that’s what this is, sweetheart — me pursuing you,”
And your cheeks grow hot, stomach flipping at his words, as your heart struggles to keep up with your mind, “So you both are okay with me seeing the other?”
His lips curl into a grin, “Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, sweetheart — me and Suguru don’t have any intention of backing off,” he tilts his head, “you’ll have to choose eventually, and I know you’ll make the right choice,”
“But—”
And he sighs, slipping his hands into his pockets, “For now, this is just a colleague welcoming another colleague to our very prestigious institution, just a friendly outing,” and you nod, rising from your seat, but he draws close, lips a breath away, “but next time, it will be a date, angel, and kikufuku won’t be the dessert I’ll want at the end of the night.”
~~~
“Suguru, should we really—” and his lips cut you off, a bruising kiss that steals the logic from your brain, and only leaves lust in its wake, your fingers moving to grasp the front of his now very creased button up. You needed to ask him about your conversation with Satoru — but all you could think about is how you could get him closer, closer, closer.
“Always taste so sweet for me,” he murmurs, his tongue slipping into your parted lips, as his fingers card through your hair, “what is that cream?” he hums, and you almost freeze — the kikufuku you had for lunch left over from your impromptu time with Satoru.
“Suguru, I need to talk to you about something,” and he’s impatient, as always, as he leads you to his lecture hall desk, pressing you against the edge of it, his legs pressed between your spread thighs.
“Talking isn’t exactly high on my priority list right now, princess,” he hums as his lips slide over your jaw, leaving wet kisses along it, before his teeth nibble and suck a mark right under your jaw, making you hiss.
“Not there, people will see—”
“People, or Satoru?” he murmurs, as you freeze as you pull back, his dark gaze lidded, but his expression inscrutable, “he told me he asked you out,”
You purse your lips, “I wanted to talk to you first to see how you felt—uhmph—” his lips smash against yours, swallowing your words and your noises eagerly, as his hands slide down your sides.
“You can see Satoru if you want, baby,” he mutters against your lips, “see him, date him, fuck him — go have your fun,” and he’s sinking to his knees in front of you, as you look down at him with red kiss ruined lips, “but don’t forget who’s the one making you feel this good,”
And he’s pushing up your skirt, pressing sweet kisses to your thighs, making them shake under his touch, as his finger presses against the wet patch on your panties, “Has he seen this yet?” and you’re too busy gasping to answer, so he only presses down meaner, rubbing you in tight circles, “answer me,”
“No, no, we haven’t even kissed—” and he’s pulling aside the crotch of your panties, air hitting your already wet pussy, “Suguru—” you’re whining already, and he only smiles in response, as his finger teases your opening, gathering your pre-cum on his fingertip.
“Should’ve known, you look fuckin’ tight, baby, gotta stretch you out, don’t I?” and a lithe finger is teasing your outer lips, before it sinks in slowly, dragging against your walls as it does, bullying your insides until it’s knuckle deep. And your fingers find their way into Suguru’s hair as he begins to fuck you in earnest, the lewd sounds of your cunt nearly echoing in the lecture hall as he thrusts his finger in and out, “hear that, baby? Your pretty pussy is practically sucking me it, won’t let me go, but I think it needs more, don’t you think?” and another finger is sinking into you, joining the other, curling and stretching against you as they piston in and out, your slick slipping down his fingers and onto his palm.
“Fuuuck, so fuckin’ wet for me, princess,” Suguru looked so gorgeous, his jet black locks pulled from their normally neat bun, strands hanging in his face, as your fingers grasped at his head, buried between your thighs on his knees, his hands splaying your thighs open on the edge of his desk, the cuffs of his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up, as two fingers sink into your dripping cunt, “so perfect, such a good girl, wonder if you taste as good as you feel,” and he’s leaning forward, his lips latching to your clit, making you cry out as he sucks harshly, “don’t be so loud, baby, want someone to see you spreading your legs for me — how’d that look?” and you gaze down at him with lust glazed over eyes, his chin glossy with your release, “all messy f’me, how could I resist?” and you’re keening against his touch, making his lips curl, “I’m starting to think you want to get caught, want people to see you cumming around my fingers, don’t you?”
You only whimper, walls traitorously clenching around him, making him let out a low groan, his hand drifting to palm at his bulge, straining against the fabric of his slacks, “g’nna feel so good around my cock, sweetheart, you’re practically throbbing,”
“Fuck,” you whimper, your thighs straining against his grip, hips nearly starting to fuck his face, as his tongue licks a strip right up your sopping cunt, “i‘m s’close, Sugu, I—” and your nails dig into his scalp, he fucks you open with his fingers and tongue, the squelch of your pussy and his fingers ringing in your ears, as you grind into his touch, just as he curls his fingers, hitting that spot that has you cumming, making a mess just as he buries his face in you, letting you ride his face as he pulls his fingers away. His fingers find your mouth making you taste your own release, stifling the moans and pants leaving your mouth, sucking and licking as he eases himself from you. Your fingers finding stability on the edge of the desk, still panting and fucked out, as he chuckles, rising to his feet, as he looms over you, looking at the cum still dripping out of you and onto the edge of his desk,
“So pretty,” he hums, before kissing you, as he helps you make yourself presentable, adjusting your underwear back into place, as your eyes drifting down between his legs, “I don’t need to ask if you like what you see because I know you do, but—”
You roll your eyes, your fingers pulling him by his belt loops between your thighs, “Don’t you want some help with that?”
And he only smiles, as he presses another sweet kiss to your lips, “We’ll save that for next time, I wanted this time to be about you,” his arm snaking around your waist, as he presses himself against you, rubbing his bulge against your sensitive cunt, making you hiss, “when’s your date with Satoru?”
You bite your lip, “Tonight, for dinner,” you admit, and he nods, a hint of jealousy that disappears as soon as it appears, before kissing you again, stealing your breath as your fingers find the back of his neck, knees nearly buckling — which doesn’t go unnoticed by him — a smile on his lips.
“Come see me after.”
~~~
“Why did you want to go out with me anyway?” you ask as Satoru walks you to your doorstep of your apartment right off campus, his hand intertwined with yours, fingers engulfing yours, thumb rubbing across the back of your hand.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he replies back with a hum, “beautiful, brilliant, funny, and you keep up — what’s there not to like?”
“You know I’m not such a sucker for sweet words that I can’t see through them,” and his lips curl into a smile, as you both stop right outside your apartment building’s door, fluorescent light buzzing above you above, the cicadas’ symphony drowning out the light chatter from people walking by, “did you only ask me out to piss off Suguru?”
“That was part of the reason,” he admits, and you tilt your head, rolling your eyes, “what?”
“Such a brilliant physics professor can be so childish — what hope is there for any of the other men?” and he laughs, cerulean eyes flashing with amusement, “then what was the rest of the reason?”
And his teeth graze over his bottom lip, as he steps closer to you, his fingers cupping your chin, “I want you, is that straightforward enough for you?” And you shiver, and he doesn’t miss your thighs squeezing together, as he leans even closer, “c’mon sweetheart, this is more than just a game, because if it was, I would have stopped after the first time seeing you,” his thumb rubs over the mark Suguru left right below your jaw and his lips curl into a grin, “that was already enough to piss Suguru off,”
“And now?”
He’s leaning even closer, breath catching in your throat, “Now I just wanna know every inch of you, sweetheart, that okay by you?”
And you’re leaning up first, lips grazing his, barely for a moment, before Satoru finds your lips again. Where Suguru’s lips were impatient and passionate — Satoru was softer and playful, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, his tongue teasing your lips apart, and a smile as he swallowed your moan eagerly. “So responsive,” he’s pulling away to stare at your swollen lips, parted beautifully for him, as he pulls on your bottom lip with his thumb, before his lips press kisses to your ear, latching onto your earlobe, teeth grazing as he sucked, “bet your other lips taste as sweet, don’t they, angel?” hot words sending heat directly to your core, as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder, “I can see why Suguru wanted to keep you for himself — such a pretty little thing, but you’re mine right now, aren’t you?”
His hands slide down down your curves, squeezing your hips teasingly, “Satoru—” and you’re glancing around at the barren streets, the quiet chatter of people could still be heard in the distance, “someone could see—”
“So?” and his lips find the mark Suguru had left, his lips closing around it and sucking, a gasp pulled from your throat, as you keen against his touch, “want them to see you all pliant for me, need them to hear you moaning my name, need you baby, need you so much that it hurts,” as the corner of his lips quirk upwards when you whimper when he sucks an even bigger mark against your collarbone, “and I think you need me too.”
Or maybe, as you pulled him inside of your apartment building, he wanted you to want him as much as he did right now.
~~~
The campus had become a battlefield, and you were the prize they were waging war for — unwittingly so, but by your own hand, as you just couldn’t choose.
But how could you?
“Suguru—” his lips found yours right outside his office, and you could taste the soba noodles he had for lunch, as his fingers threaded through your hair, his other sneaky hand slipping lower around your waist, tugging you even closer against him, “I have a class to teach,”
“Well, there’s something I wanna teach you before you go,” he rasps, as his tongue parts your lips again, tasting your own, “you can afford to keep your students waiting a minute, can’t you? You already denied me your company last night,” he grumbles, and you know he’s jealous that you didn’t stop by after your dinner with Satoru last night, but you’re having trouble finding the words to reassure him as his hand gropes your ass now, squeezing and teasing each cheek, And you don’t have enough time to react, as he’s tugging the turtle neck you had opted for, only for his eyes to narrow at the many blooming red hickies that Satoru had littered your skin with the night before, “were you hiding these?”
Your tongue ties itself into a knot, “I just—” you didn’t want Suguru to get upset — you were hoping to avoid a problem, “I didn’t want you—” And he’s pulling you back into his office, right against the door, as he’s sinking to his knees, as he’s tugging down your dress pants to your ankles, “Suguru—”
“What?” his eyes flicker up, irises dark pools of anger, “he can leave his mark, and so can I,” and his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, making you gasp, his hands holding you in place even as you lurch forward, his teeth meanly digging into your thigh, as his tongue flicks over it to soothe the ache, “taste so good, princess — I can see why Satoru couldn’t resist marking you up — maybe I should make a habit of it,” and you whimper, and his fingers press against the crotch of your underwear, teasing the wet patch, “don’t act you don’t like, sweetheart,” and he’s nosing your underwear, pressing a kiss against your aching cunt through your underwear, “I think you’re going to more than a little late to your next class, baby, better send an email, ok?”
~~~
“Where’s that mouth of yours now, Toru?” you tease, looking up at him, your knees were definitely going to have carpet burn after this, as you palmed his tented erection, before going to undo his belt and tugging his slacks down, “been wanting this haven’t you?” and he moans a little too loudly when you tug his boxers down, his leaking cock slapping against his shirt, “don’t be so loud, it’s a library after all,”
This was Satoru’s idea — because of course it was — he had grown tired of your offices and empty classrooms, and wanted a change of scenery — because apparently waiting an entire day to spend some time at home was simply out of the question. And that’s how you ended up on your knees in one of the very back of the library where very few if any ventured, in between one of the stacks that was only visible from one side. But even so, you could hear the distant page flips of textbooks and the whispers from across tables, and anyone could find you both in such compromising position — but the risk was exactly what Satoru wanted.
“Ca-can’t help it, sweetheart, been thinking about how pretty you’d look on your knees f’me all day,” and he’s rambling now, pressing a fist to his lips, as the other clutches at the shelf behind him, his lust glazed crystalline gaze watching you as your fingers graze his cock, thumbing at the pearly bead of precum, “been so hard all day — wanting your pretty little lips around my cock,”
And you giggle, as you lick his precum from your fingers, before spitting in your hand, beginning to rub his his cock, fingers teasingly tracing each and every lovely vein and ridge, making him buck his hips against your touch, “g’nna have to try to be quieter than that when I wrap my lips around you, baby,” and your lips kiss the tip, kitten licking the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum from the source, pulling out a choked gasp from his throat, “must have been aching in all your classes, Toru — I wonder if your students noticed — wonder if they thought about having this cock down their throat,” and he’s swallowing thickly, “too bad this cock is mine,”
And you’re pumping him in earnest now, precum and spit as makeshift lube as the lewd noises of your hand glides over his dick, as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, glazed over with pure lust, “Fuck, Toru, your cock is so fucking gorgeous,” and you groan, before you guide him to your lips, letting the precum gather on them, until you let him sink into your mouth.
He’s already so close — you can tell by the way his cock is twitching in your mouth, as you swallow around him, tongue wrapping around him, “I’m g’nna cum down your throat too soon, baby,” and his words come out strangled, your fingers squeezing what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, “fuuuck, baby, I’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth,” and his hips are rolling as he clutches against the stack behind him, the other weaving into your hair, fingernails digging into your scalp, “gonna make you feel so good, gotta reward you for being such a good girl, taking my dick so well,”
You gag lightly on his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, and the only thing you can hear is the way your mouth slurping around his dick, the wet squelches as he fucks your throat, “I’m—” and that’s the only warning you get, before his hot cum slides down your throat, his hands grasping at your hair to hold you in place, “swallow every drop, baby, so nasty,” he’s whispering now, legs unsteady, as he watches you pull away, a string of cum and spit connecting you to his cock, and he’s almost hypnotized by the sight of you, utterly fucked out, your tongue darting out to lick the cum that dripped from your mouth, wiping the rest on the back of your hand.
And he’s groaning, “Sweetheart, I gotta fuck you so bad,” and he’s helping you to your feet, pressing an insistent kiss to your lips, his tongue sliding into your mouth, groaning as he tastes his release in your mouth. But you’re tugging up his boxers and slacks, adjusting them into place, and he whines, “babyyyy,”
“Not right now, Toru,” you glance around, “someone could see us, we’re lucky no one heard us with how loud you were being,” you kiss his neck, as he pouts, “such a good boy for me, I expect a reward tonight,” and he’s grinning, raising his eyebrows — and so fucking eager.
“Oh, I’ll reward you all night for this, baby,” and he’s pulling you into another kiss, before you hear someone clearing their throat.
And you pull away to find Suguru standing, looking thoroughly unimpressed, “I was wondering why you were late for our lunch, and here you are,” his tone is even, but his eyes are like daggers digging into Satoru’s skin.
But it only seems to bounce off Satoru, his lips curled in a devious grin, as he only wraps an arm around your waist, “Sorry Suguru for keeping her, she would’ve called, but she had her mouth full,” and your cheeks flush, as your eyes snap to Satoru, mouth agape — this motherfucker— “it won’t happen again, or it might,” and he squeezes your ass, as he slips away, “by the way,” Satoru plucks a book out of the stack on the top shelf, “here’s that book you were looking for that you mentioned before,” pushing it into Suguru’s hands, and he’s gone in a moment, leaving you both alone.
Suguru’s expression flashes with irritation for a moment, before his lips curl into a smile, “Shall we go?”
And you only knew that you would catch hell for this in Suguru’s office now — the ache between your legs only growing — not that you really minded.
~~~
The game between Suguru and Satoru only continued to escalate — fucking you and fucking with each other while they were at it. Suguru had retaliated by marking you up in his office after bending you over his desk. He had spanked you, hand bearing down “Such a needy one, aren’t you, princess? Sucking another man’s dick when you were supposed to be enjoying a nice lunch with me,” he scoffs, slapping another mean spank, but this time to your aching pussy,
“Such. A. Greedy. Girl,” he says between slaps, making you cry out, nails digging into the wood of his desk, “don’t think bad girls deserve lunch — you’re probably still full off his cum, anyway,” you can hear the click of his belt, as he’s undoing his pants, “no, I think I should fill something else,” and his thick cockhead is rubbing against your dripping folds making you whimper, “don’t you think, baby?”
And he had spent the rest of lunch fucking you, even doing it again after you had finished teaching, waiting at the back door of your classroom for your students to file out, before he had you in his arms again, spread for him as he makes you ride him on the desk. Deep long strokes that have you whining and writhing in his lap, before he’s fucking his cum into you again. And after he’s setting you down on shaky legs, helping you fix your clothes, before dragging your ruined underwear down your ankles, before snatching them up, and pocketing them, as you stare at him, only a smile on his lips, “for later use,”
He lets you wash up, but insists on dropping you off at Satoru’s doorstep with a grin and a wave. And Satoru nearly has you pressed against the door when you enter, hand already sliding down your pants, raising his eyebrows with a grin, when he finds nothing there, “Teaching without panties, Professor?” and he’s sinking to his knees for you, taking your dress pants with them, looking up with a shiteating grin (though surely it would be pussyeating later), “didn’t know you were such a naughty girl,”
“I didn’t,” the defensive reply leaves your mouth without a thought, as Satoru tilts his head, “I mean, I—” you lick your lips, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment — you were so stupid — “I had them on before,”
And the pieces are clicking in his head, as his hands press your thighs open, seeing the scattered marks left by Suguru — and then he’s pressing a kiss to the marks that Suguru made, murmuring, “do I get to keep something too? That’s not really fair Princess — gonna hurt my feelings if you play favorites,”
“What do you want?” And he’s grinning, and you know he has something specific in mind.
~~~~
“You could’ve chosen anything, and you wanted this,” you settle on Satoru’s lap, making his hips roll helplessly against you — you bite your lip as you look at him, his hands were tied behind the back of the chair, your underwear stuffed in his mouth, “you wanted these right?” You tease, tugging at the back of his head, “how’d your colleagues think of you now?” Your fingers palm the base of his leaking cock, it was so pretty, just as he was, “the great Satoru Gojo tied up and dick out for his junior, huh? Maybe I should take a picture, show them how pliant you are?” You’d never do that, but you knew the idea turned him on — his groan evidence enough, his traitorous dick twitching at your words.
A muffled groan against your panties, his pretty blue eyes staring up at you pleadingly, “want something, baby boy?”
And a whine leaves his throat, and you’re smiling, fingers squeezing harder, and his hips jerk again, “My hand?” And he shakes his head, “my mouth?” And he’s shaking his head, and your lips curl, “you think I’m that easy?” And he gives a nod, making you raise an eyebrow, about to reply when there’s a knock at the door.
Your eyes both snap over, the door thankfully locked, but a slow grin grows on your lips, as you ease off his lap,as he’s staring at you with wide eyes, “Gotta see who it is, can’t be rude, baby,” and you’re adjusting your clothes, opening the door just a crack.
“Oh, Professor,” Satoru hears a female voice - it was a student from one of his classes — Rei? Ren? — “do you know where Professor Gojo is?” Her surprise was evident, but you only seemed to take it in stride. This was the student who always loved to flirt with him, taking any opportunity even outside of office hours.
“Oh he’s all tied up in a meeting right now, I’m waiting for him to get back to discuss school related matters,” you sigh, opening the door slightly more, making him squirm — if you opened it a little more… he’s nearly moaning at the thought, “you know him, he can never shut up when it comes to Physics,” and the student chuckles, and now you’re prolonging the conversation on purpose, asking her about the semester and how classes are going - he’s straining against his own tie you had used bind him, a small whine that he swallows when he sees you give him the middle finger behind your back — a warning, “I’ll let him know you stopped by and he’ll email you to set up a meeting,”
And you shut the door, locking it , before turning, your eyes falling to his cock — even redder than before, pretty bead of precum at the end — “I see you enjoyed that, did you want your students to see you like this? Spread out and tied up for me?” You’re unbuttoning your blouse, as you slowly walk over, before settling on his lap. Your fingers tug at his hair on the back of his head, pulling your panties from his mouth, and stuffing it in his shirt pocket, “I wanna hear you talk now,” and you’re grasping his leaking cock, pressing it against your aching cunt, “beg for me,”
And he whimpers, “Fuuuuck, please, sweetheart, I need you to fuck me, use me as your toy, just—“ he’s biting his lip, leaning up, blue eyes watery, “I need you, I need you so bad,” and you’re dragging your thumb down his erect nipples, before you’re leaning down to bite one, nibbling and sucking, “shit—fu—“ and he’s keening against you, desperate for more, snapping his hips against you making his top part your folds, drawing a moan from your lips.
“So needy, you couldn’t even wait for me to fuck you,” you sink onto him, meanly grinding on him, his thick cock parting his folds all too fast — your walls squeezing the cum out of him. And he’s choking out a gasp as you cover his mouth, his spit wetting your fingers, “do you want other people to hear your pornographic moans? Those are just for me,” and you start to ride him, hips slapping against his, as you moan softly into his ear, “always make me feel so good, Toru, s’full,” and he’s twitching inside you, a moan vibrating against your fingers, “should have known you love praise — it’s your favorite drinking game,” you teased, as his hips begin to snap to meet yours, driving himself in deeper.
“Oh, fuck, you feel so perfect, baby, so fuckin’ wet f’me, so warm,” he’s meeting every snap of your hips, and you’re only moaning now, messily covering his mouth with your lips, so he can eagerly swallow your sounds for you, tongues tied together, the groan and squeaks of the chair only growing louder.
Until you pull your lips from him, “Toru, I’m close,” and he’s nodding, his head lolling back as your walls clench around him. He doesn’t last much longer, toes curling as his hips continuing to fuck you through your orgasm, until he’s notching himself in you deep. Two more thrusts and he’s spilling inside you, fucking his load deeper, as you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. Boneless, as he kisses your shoulder sweetly, as you untie his hands, freeing them, so he can hold you.
And you pull back to look at him, pale cheeks flushed, lips bitten red, and sheen of sweat on his forehead — he’s so fucking pretty—
And he’s only grinning— “can we do it again?
—and a fucking menace.
~~~
“Relax,” Suguru whispers, fingers pressing his glass of wine to his lips, his hand on the small of your back to guide you, “you’re so tense,” he chides gently, as your eyes flit to glare at him.
He knew exactly why you were tense.
The two of you stroll into the university gala, hosted to draw in wealthy alumni and investors in hopes of donations and to show off the prestige of the university. And as a new professor, you were required to attend — as was Suguru, as one of the most reputable.
“Suguru, I know I agreed to this, but is it a good idea for us to be going to an event like this together? People could talk,” and he’s only shrugging, a smirk on his lips.
“People are already talking, so why not give them something to talk about, Professor?” he whispers in your ear, hot breath against your ear making you flush.
“Any publicity is not always good publicity, Suguru,” you sigh, hearing whispers as the two you walked the length of the hall, “don’t think the university would take kindly to gossip and rumors about affairs amongst their employees,”
“Two, no sorry, three single professors engaging in healthy relations isn’t something that should be shamed,” he’s looking at you with mock outrage, mouth agape, “are you not for healthy expression of sexuality, Professor?”
You snort, whispering, “Y’know I’m all about that, Sugu—or should I bring up how many times you came last night? You had to wash your cum off my back,” and you delight in the slight red tint in his cheeks, before he shamelessly grins.
“Remind me? I still have the pictures,” he snorts, and something he says sticks in the back of your mind.
“Are we? Single, that is,” you ask, chewing on your lip — the worst time to ask the “what are we” question was in a banquet hall full of people who didn’t know about your relations — or your ones with his best friend.
“Well, I’m only seeing you, if that’s what you mean,” and your anxiety ease a bit, “but the same can’t be said for you,” and his words are half-teasing, but half serious — his gaze growing a bit more serious, “How long are you going to make us wait until you choose, sweetheart?”
“Until I choose?” and he’s turning to look at you, fingers cupping your chin.
“Do you expect us to share you forever?” he’s glances to see if anyone is watching before his thumb drags over your lips, “because I’m not too good at sharing, and I don’t think Satoru is either,”
And then your conversation is cut short just as two investors approach Suguru to engage in some discussion of ethics. Your mind wanders as soon as you’re done with the formal platitudes, putting your hand on Suguru’s arm to tell him you’re going to get a drink, before excusing yourself for a moment. You wander to the bar, ordering yourself a drink, before pulling your phone out discreetly — notifications only from Satoru staring back at you.
“Can’t believe you got conned into attending the gala,” and you sigh, honestly you couldn’t believe it either — you sneak a look at Suguru in his suit — a deep burgundy suit with a black shirt that complemented his black hair tied into a neat bun, aside from the few strands framing one side of his face. No tie around his neck, because of course, he couldn’t be too proper — although, when that was your view, you suppose you could.
“I can’t exactly say no, I’m a new professor.” and Satoru’s reply is almost instant.
“I could’ve gotten you out of it, but you agreed to crucify yourself with Suguru. Too bad, we could’ve had our own fun :P” and Satoru as always had a one track mind.
You roll your eyes, “Mind only on one thing, Satoru?”
“Only when it comes to you, baby, ;)” and you snort, lips curling at his remark, another text coming through right after—
“Who are you texting?” Suguru’s voice makes you jump, as you tuck your phone away, missing Satoru’s last text as you do, raising an eyebrow, “let me guess, trying to convince you to skip out?”
“Well—” and his arm is around your waist, making your breath catch in your throat.
“Then let’s go,” and he’s striding through the throng of people gathered at tables and floating through the banquet hall, finding his way through the double doors, veering into a hallway right off of the hall that only led to the electrical closet and other maintenance rooms, “we can have a quick respite,” and he’s unbuttoning the button on his jacket, as he turns his gaze to you.
“Where—” and he’s pressing you against the wall of the hallway, a pillar positioned nearby that blocked the view of passersby, but completely exposed otherwise, “Sugu—” you squeal, as you try to urge his hands off your body, but he’s only squeezing your hips harder.
“Like I said, let’s give them something to talk about,” and his hands slide down the curves of your body, and he’s kissing you, stealing any protests from you from your lips, just as he does your breath, “you think I can resist you this whole night when you look like this, princess?” his hand slides up the slit of your dress, thick fingers against your bare thigh, “you’re temptation incarnate—” and two fingers are dragging your underwear to your ankles, “and the best cunt I’ve ever had,”
And his knee pressed against your bare, aching pussy sends a ripple of logic through you, “We shouldn’t—someone could see—” and his knee only presses harder against you, as you gasp, biting your lip, and he’s smiling wickedly as you grow even wetter, cunt fluttering at the thought.
“Be more honest, sweetheart, you love this — your lips are saying one thing and your princess cunt is saying another,” and he’s pressing his knee into you, grunting as he feels your slick collect on his dress pants, “c’mon pretty, I can’t be doing all the work. Fuck yourself on my thigh like a good girl,”
“Sugu—” and he’s meanly gripping your chin, his dark eyes blown out with lust.
“You gonna be good f’me, or do I have to make you?” And his fingers find the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing, ripping a moan from your lips. And you snap, beginning to chase your high, grinding on his thigh, as he flexed in time with it. Your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, tongues tasting each other, as the rest of the party melts away, your fingers reaching down to palm his erection through his slacks, “fuck, such a filthy girl — g’nna make me cum in my pants — you gonna clean up your mess after?”
And you’re nodding, moaning as his knee hits the right friction against your clit, “I’m close, Sugu—“
And he’s reaching down to grab your ass to find the perfect angle, his thigh flexing, and you’re cumming, burying your face in his neck as you ride your orgasm out, slick squelching all too loud against his now ruined pants.
And you’re panting, chest rising and falling, as you lean back before kissing Suguru hard, “sweetheart—“ and he’s lowering you on wobbly legs, as your hands slip off his jacket to drape in front of him as a weak attempt to hide the large stain of your cum.
“Let’s go,” and he’s not protesting, grinning as you drag him out, eyes still on him as you walk backwards out of the hall.
And neither of you notice, the figure behind the pillar, watching, as he slowly tucked himself back into his gray suit pants, pale skin flushed, as his crystalline blue eyes watched you both walk off. He’s panting, teeth grazing over his lip as he composes himself.
Fuck, he had never cum so hard, except with you. The way your face contorted in pleasure, how Suguru had made you moan, how he took control of you — it was fucking hot. He almost scoffs at himself, rubbing a hand down his face, he never thought of himself as a voyeur but maybe he was. And his lips curl, as his mind unraveled an idea — one where all three of you could enjoy.
Maybe he could learn to share.
It would just take the right amount of precision, and luckily, Satoru smiled at your text chain, his last text still unread — he was all about precision.
And who can resist you in that dress?
~~~~
“This is a fucking terrible idea,” you murmur against Satoru’s lips, as he presses you into the desk, “he could come back any minute,” and he’s pressing you into the edge of Suguru’s desk, crumpling papers, shaking books and picture frames on Suguru’s desk, “Toru—”
One minute, you were having a nice lunch with Satoru, and the next, he’s gotten you stumbling into his office with his hands under your shirt — or what you thought was his office.
“Don’t act like you didn’t want this, sweetheart,” his fingers are toying with the hem of your dress pants, his lips pressing wet kisses along your jaw, “so needy f’me two seconds ago, didn’t even notice we went into the wrong office, and now you want me to make the lengthy journey back to my own?”
Your scoff grows into a gasp as his teeth grazes your pulse, teeth digging into your soft flesh before running his tongue over the blooming bruise, “It’s right next door,” and he clicks his tongue against your skin.
“And imagine how long that’d take, might end up taking you right in the hall, and imagine the rumors that’d spread then,” he’s chuckling as his hands slide under your shirt, teasing your tits through your bra, “what then? Gonna let them see how much of a needy girl you are for me?”
He’s plucking moans and whines out of you with ease, all too familiar with tearing down your inhibitions with precise ease, “fuck, what if he sees us—he could walk in any minute—”
“Aww, baby I just wanted to fuck you in the same place we first met, wouldn’t that be romantic?” and he’s tugging your pants down all the same, fingers unbuttoning your blouse as he pouts, “eat you out in the very chair I first saw you in, suck my cock while I sit in Suguru’s chair — doesn’t that sound like a good way to declare our undying love for one another?”
“Toru—” you sigh, and he’s catching your lips in a kiss, lips curled as you melt into his touch, as he sheds you of your clothes.
He’s sinking to his knees, spreading your thighs for him, kissing the wet patch of precum collected on your underwear. He’s inhaling, before warm breath settles against your skin, “such a perfect pussy,” and his tongue drags against the wet fabric, sucking at your clit through it, making you lurch against him, his large palms keeping you spread.
“Don’t know how Suguru doesn’t like sweets since he loves eating you out—” and your gaze is snapping down to him, a knowing grin on his lips, “still the sweetest thing I’ve tasted, pretty girl,”
“How do you—”
He chuckles, as he presses sweet kisses to your inner thigh, the vibration making you shiver, “With the amount of marks he leaves, I’d be surprised he didn’t — I may be a pretty face, sweetheart, but I’m not an idiot,” and you gasp as he uses his teeth to drag down your underwear, “can i keep these?”
“If you both keep stealing my underwear, I’m not going to have any left—”
“Even better,” he says cheekily, as he pockets them, “you’re not helping your case, baby,” and you glare down at him, but your mouth falls open as he presses a kiss to your weeping cunt, nose bumping against your swollen clit teasingly, “neither is this pussy of yours — you’re making a mess all over Suguru’s desk, think he’d enjoy that?” and he’s running his tongue over your folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips, “such a nasty girl, aren’t you?” and he’s teasing your outer lips with his wicked tongue, before he’s back to kissing and sucking marks onto your thighs.
“Toru,” you whine, “please,” and Satoru finally relents, wasting no time to bury his face in your cunt. He’s licking and sucking tight circles around your puffy clit before his tongue begins to part your folds, his fingers assisting in pulling your clenching walls apart, “fuuuck, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock, gonna suck me dry with this perfect pussy,” your fingers find purchase in his snowy locks, hips grinding against his face shamelessly, His tongue was warm and hot inside your cunt, flicking against places you couldn’t reach with your fingers, his thumb teasing your clit in tight circles, making you see stars before your eyes.
“Satoru, please, s’close,” and he’s moaning against your sweet cunt, eyes flickering down to see him groping his erection through his slacks, the sensation of his moans enough to make you squirt all over his face, his tongue and mouth eagerly eating you out through your release. Moaning his name as your chest heaves, your thighs try to close around his head, burying him deeper between them, as your toes curl.
And neither of you had noticed that the door had swung open, as Suguru stood in the doorway, his eyes flitting over the scene in front of him, your leaking cunt spread out in front of him, as Satoru turns at the door shuttinh, lips and chin still glossy with your release and his sweat, as he only grins up at his best friend.
“And what did you say about my problem with knocking?” and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, chest still heaving from your orgasm, juices spilling from your needy cunt, “at least I knocked last time,”
“I don't think knocking applies to when it comes to your own office, Satoru,” he sighs, casually removing his suit coat and unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt as he rolls them up, lidded eyes still raking over you, you squirming under his gaze as Satoru still holds your thighs wide open so they both can see your pretty pussy spread out and leaking, your release dripping down the hardwood of Suguru’s desk and onto his carpet, “come on, Satoru, you could’ve done this more subtly?” Suguru sits on the couch, manspreading his thick thighs, as his eyes met yours, dark lidded gaze that only makes your cunt twitch.
“Oh you know how I feel about subtlety,” and he’s lapping lightly at your leaking cunt, making your walls flutter, “I don’t like to waste time,” and he’s licking his lips clean, before wiping the rest on the back his hand, before turning to you, “saw you fucking our pretty princess at the gala — felt a little different than I thought it would,” and Satoru guides your gaze with his thumb on your chin to Suguru so your eyes spot the tenting bulge between his legs, “seems like you feel the same, Suguru,”
“And if I do?” He’s raising an eyebrow finally tearing his eyes away from you to glance at his best friend, “then what?”
And Satoru is kissing your neck sweetly, “Think someone could use your attention, got this sweet cunt all ready for you,” and Suguru’s cock twitches in his pants, “or if you prefer, her mouth is more than willing, isn’t it, sweetheart?”
“What would you be doing? Watching?”and Satoru scoffs, as he’s pulling you into a kiss, lips sliding against yours, as his tongue parts them, letting you taste yourself on his lips.
And he’s pulling away, wiping a little saliva that drips from your lips, “oh I’d be doing more than just watching,” and Suguru sighs, as your gaze flicks over to him, his lips surprisingly curled in a smile.
“Wonder how tight our princess will get with both of us in her,” Suguru hums, and your mouth falls open at his words, “wonder who’s name she’ll scream first,”
“If you have to wonder, then you’ll know it’s mine,” and Satoru is forcing your gaze back to him, “what do you say, sweetheart? Are you ready to handle us both?”
And you can’t believe your ears, as you glance between them, “but what about choosing?” And Suguru chuckles, two fingers unbuttoning his pants, dragging them down to pool around his ankles, his cock straining against the fabric of his briefs, a wet patch where the head rested.
“Right now, the only thing I want you to choose between is whether you want my cock in your cunt first or in your mouth,” and Satoru only grins, his large palms sliding down your back, and under your ass and thighs.
“Want some help getting there, baby?” and you’re biting your lip and nodding, and he’s lifting you with ease, pressing wet kisses down your neck, before placing you on your knees in front of Suguru.
Suguru looks down at you, lips twitching upward into a grin, “Have you made your decision, princess?” and you nod wordlessly, as you settle on your knees between his thighs, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the damp fabric of his briefs, making him hiss.
“Wanna taste you before you fuck me, Sugu,” your fingers sliding into the elastic of his briefs and tugging them down, his pretty cock nearly slapping both your face and his shirt as you free it from its confines. He’s a little thicker than Satoru, you can barely get your lips around him, but Satoru had a easier time hitting the back of your throat, “need your cum down my throat,” and he’s grunting, your lips kissing the tip of his cock, tongue darting out to collect the precum leaking from the slit. Your tongue then drags along his vein, making him hiss, as Satoru only grins, adjusting himself in his slacks.
“Don’t know why I haven’t fucked this perfect mouth sooner,” Suguru groans, the weight of his cock was so nice in your warm and wet mouth. Your fingers stroked what you couldn’t fit, as Satoru sits back and watches, his gaze boring into your back, as you hear the click of his belt, and you know Satoru is undressing behind you, “now you’re going to know what it’s really like to have your mouth full, princess,”
And Satoru scoffs, his footsteps growing closer to you, as you hear the dull slump of his clothes against the carpet, “Jealous that I fucked it first and fucked it better, Suguru?”
Suguru’s fingers weave into your hair, tugging at it lightly, making you moan around his aching cock, making him grunt, “We’ll see about that,” and then you feel a pair of lips pressing a constellation of kisses along your back, as Satoru presses himself against you, his cock sliding between your thighs, teasing your aching cunt, “don’t wanna just enjoy the show this time, wanna be a part of it, ain’t that right, baby?”
Your cunt is fluttering around nothing as he rubs his cock against your outer lips and thighs, drawing more moans out of you, your fingers stuttering with their touch, until a sharp pull at your hair, draws your gaze upwards.
“Don’t forget whose cock you’re sucking, princess,” and his hips shallowly thrust against you, tip brushing against your throat, making you gasp, fingers digging into his thighs, “or I’ll remind you,”
“Oh, so scary, Suguru,” Satoru snorts from behind, as he steadies you from behind, his tongue dragging up your back, “now c’mon baby, squeeze your thighs for me like a good girl,”
You re-double your efforts with Suguru, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as he slowly began to snap his hips and fuck your throat, all the while moaning around his cock as Satoru fucked your thighs. You squeezed your thighs, his cock slipping against your dripping cunt, making your walls flutter around nothing.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re dripping aren’t you? Making my cock all messy before I’m even inside you,” Satoru is leaning down, grazing his teeth against the soft flesh of your back, before his own thighs on either side of you, force your legs closed tighter, making him groan, “don’t think I can wait much longer to fuck this little princess cunt,”
“You’re going to have to, I’m first, after all the stunts you’ve pulled, Satoru,” and Suguru is close, his words coming out as pants, rutting against your mouth, his lidded eyes meeting your teary eyed ones, “that pussy is mine first,”
And Satoru lets out a breathy chuckle as your pussy twitches at his words, as he continues to roll his hips into you, driving your mouth deeper onto Suguru’s cock, “if you’re that eager, don’t think our princess would mind having us both at the same time, now would she?” Satoru drags his tip against your clit, making you whine against Suguru. And you’re whimpering, unable to nod, but Suguru moans, hips stuttering, as you swallow around his dick.
“That’s it, my greedy girl — g’nna cum down your throat, swallow every drop,” Suguru groans, his hips rut into your mouth, his warm load painting your throat, as you swallow his cum eagerly. He fucks himself into your mouth, your name leaving his lips as he pants, working himself through his orgasm, “that’s it, good fucking girl,”
“I’ve trained her well,” Satoru grunts, “can take cock like a pro, can’t you baby?” And you’re pulling yourself off Suguru’s cock, a mix of saliva and cum connecting you to his dick, tongue licking your lips clean, watching Suguru’s chest heave.
You moan as Satoru fucks his cock between your thighs, the tip dragging against your dripping pussy, “Look at the fucking mess you’re making of my office, Princess,” Suguru coos, his fingers cupping your chin, and thumb brushing against your bottom lip, as he palms himself lazily, “think she’s ready for both of us, Satoru?”
Satoru is close, squeezing your thighs tighter around his cock, “not yet, think this cunt needs your fingers stretching her out first,” and his cock twitches again, “fuuuck I’m close, sweetheart,” and he’s turning you over onto your back, lifting your legs up against his chest, fucking his cock between your thighs. And it’s too much for you, as you moan, clenching around nothing, your slick slipping down, as Satoru groans, before he’s painting your face white with his cum.
And Satoru is panting, as he’s pulling you into his arms, collecting his cum with his fingers from your flushed face. His fingers drag down your lips, urging you to suck on them, “Fuck, Princess, so fucking hot,” and he’s leaning down to lick the length of your cheek, chuckling, “you taste like me, baby,”
“Don’t hog her, Satoru,” Suguru chides, as he takes off his button up, and Satoru is shooting him a glare, before handing you over.
And Suguru is grabbing you up, pulling you into his lap, pressing your back against his chest, letting your legs spread, pussy leaking your release all over him. He hissed as his cock rubs against you, “you’re fucking drenching me, you already ruined my carpet and desk, gonna ruin my couch too now, sweetheart,”
His fingers part your folds, thumb bearing down on your aching clit, making you gasp, “So sensitive, haven’t even had our cocks yet, wonder if you’ll cry,” he hums, all too pleased, “gotta stretch you out first,”
And his lithe finger begins to circle your lips, before sinking into your cunt and making you gasp, “So tight even after Satoru ate you out — what do you think, Satoru, three fingers or four?” And he’s already sinking another finger in, beginning to bully your walls, scissoring and stretching, as he pumps his fingers into you steadily.
Satoru hums as he comes over, rolling your pebbled nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, drawing another moan from your lips, “Four, got to be sure she’ll fit us both,” and he leans down and takes your other in his lips, sucking before his teeth grazes your nipple.
“Fuck, she got tighter when you started playing with her tits,” Suguru smiles, as you huff in embarrassment, fading into another moan as he slips a third finger in, and it’s almost too much — you’re seeing stars nearly, as his fingers find that spot that makes you squirm and squeal.
“Sugu, fuck, it’s too much—“ and Suguru is only grinning, redoubling his efforts to find that spot again, pistoning his fingers in and out — the squelch of his fingers in your cunt ringing in your ears, as you give a broken whine, “I can’t—”
“Sure you can, baby,” Satoru coos, his teeth grazing the soft flesh of your breast, sucking and licking, making you nearly sob, “feels so good, look at you, taking his fingers so well—almost there,”
And Suguru finally sinks the fourth finger into you, and you’re so fucking stretched out, it feels so good — too good, “Gonna soak my whole hand at this rate, Princess,” and you’re only gasping and whining, grinding your hips against his fingers, wantonly chasing your high, and Satoru has the best view of it all — your swollen lovely lips parted, your eyes fluttering, and your pretty pussy fluttering around his best friend’s fingers. And Satoru can’t wait to see it all again, when they sink into you.
You can’t hold back, your voice raw and broken, “I’m g’nna—” and Suguru is grabbing your chin, pulling into a sloppy kiss, his lips gliding against yours, saliva running down the corners of both of your lips, swallowing your moans eagerly. And finally your back is arching against his chest, his fingers relentless even as you do orgasm, fucking your walls through it, thrusting your release back into you.
“That’s it, pretty,” Suguru murmurs, as he’s pulling his lips from you, dragging his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “think you’re ready for us now, aren’t you?”
“More than,” Satoru hums, as his fingers spread your pussy lips making you moan, before spanking your abused cunt, pulling a gasp from your lips, “who’s first?”
And Suguru is manhandling you so that you’re settled in his lap, facing him, “You got to watch her pretty face when she cums, now it’s my turn,” and the tip of leaking erection brushing against your sensitive cunt, making you lurch against him, “so responsive as always,”
“Hurry up, Suguru,” he’s grumbling, as he presses himself behind you, dragging his cock between your ass, making you whine, “wanna feel this pretty princess cunt milk me already,”
Suguru chuckles, leaning forward to kiss along your jaw, “Baby, think Satoru is more desperate than you are,” and you’re smiling against his lips.
“He always is,” you turn to smile at a pouting Satoru, but Suguru takes the opportunity to sink his cock into you, pushing past your walls, making your head snap back, mouth parted in an ‘o’ as his large palms settle on your hips, “Fuuuck, Sugu—”
“I told you to pay attention to who’s fucking you, princess,” he grins, grunting as he bottoms out, his cock twitching inside your walls, “you’re fucking soakin’ my cock, still so fuckin’ tight after I stretched you out,” his hips slowly thrust into you, teasing you, lazily edging your sensitive pussy, “so pretty, so perfect,” and your walls flutter around him, “fuck, you like that, huh?”
“Such a whore for our praise, huh?” Satoru pressing messy kisses to your neck, as he lines up himself in your cunt, “tell me you want this,”
“Fuckin’ hurry up, Satoru, or I’m gonna burst before you even fuck her,” Suguru growls, his hips snapping a little too roughly that has you crying out, as Satoru makes you look at him, thumb cupping your chin.
“Tell me, pretty, tell me how much you want both our dicks inside you,” Satoru croons, and his lips are pressing chaste butterfly kisses to you in contrast to the dirty words he says, with the slick sounds of Suguru fucking your needy cunt.
“P-please, I need you, need both of you to fuck me,” your words fall from your lips without hesitation, “shit, I swear to god, Toru, just—”
Your mouth falls open when Satoru pushes past your entrance, impaling you further, joining Suguru in your sweet cunt, and your mind is blanking — the fullness of them makes you nearly fall apart right then, the two of them groaning in beautiful synchrony.
“Fuck, didn’t think you could get any tighter or wetter, but you keep proving me wrong,” Suguru moans, squeezing your hips sweetly.
“So fuckin’ good, sweetheart, so, so good for us,” Satoru is mumbling into your shoulder as his hips begin to move against you, his balls slapping against your ass.
They move at different paces — Satoru faster and harder while Suguru was slower and deeper — their dicks driving into you, pressed between their bodies, sticky with sweat. Their hips strike their own rhythms, your orgasm quickly building like a flood, a wave ready to rip through you, as they fuck you again and again.
“Fuck, perfect little princess cunt gonna break our dicks in half,” Satoru groans, as he’s pressing kisses to your neck, “not gonna last much longer, Suguru,”
“Neither is she, judging from how her pussy is squeezing already,” Suguru grunts, as he’s pulling you into a sweet kiss, “now don’t forget, you gotta moan one of our names — moan the name that makes you cum,” and you’re fuckin’ close, so fucking close, you let out a pathetic whine that makes you flush at the sound of it, until they both begin to stutter inside you, hitting deeper, both brushing against that spot again.
“I’m g’nna—” and that’s all you manage before your walls clamp down on them, drawing out pornographic groans from both of them in your ears, as their cocks bottom out, as they cum, emptying their loads into you, fucking their cum inside as you three come down from your highs.
Pants fill Suguru’s office, the squelch of their hips slowing, as they twitch inside your desperately clingy cunt, stilling, as the three of you rest, boneless against one another. Suguru’s lips find yours softly, while Satoru is burying his face in the nape of your neck.
“You know Satoru, this has to be one of your better ideas,” Suguru hums, as he slowly eases out of your pussy, eyes darkening as he watches all of three of your mixed releases leak out of you, “although I’m going to have to get my carpet cleaned now,”
“Worth it,” Satoru sighs, pulling himself out as well, to collapse on the couch beside Suguru, before grabbing at you and pulling you to sit between them both, one of your thighs on either’s leg. His fingers drift to your all too full cunt, before using two fingers to collect some of the cum and stuff it back in, making you yelp, “sorry, baby, can’t have you wasting our cum, can we?” he winks.
“Fuck off,” you mumble, all too exhausted, as your head leans back against the couch, “so where does this leave us?”
And the two best friends share a look, seemingly having the same thought, “Well, at an impasse really,” Suguru sighs, lips curling into a grin.
“You never moaned one of our names, did you?” Satoru hums, pressing needy kisses along your shoulder, “so guess we’ll have to do it all over again.”
“Guess we will, only fair way to decide, isn’t it, Princess?” Suguru cups your cheek, leaning in for another kiss, as Satoru nibbles at your pulse, “again and again and again.”
And again, there was very little that Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto competed for — but you were one thing that they wouldn’t mind competing over for the rest of their lives.
✴︎ a/n: this is @bucky-of-the-opera's fault. all their idea. i simply was possessed while writing this. thank you to them, @laneysmusings, and @lemonpoppy-seed for beta reading and encouraging me to stick through this monster of a fic. its also my first time writing a threesome fsjndkj
✴︎ tag list: @penny18271, @getowhxre, @doodlingpizza, @pandoraium, @gojoslittlecrybaby, @wavychelle, @n3cromancyy, @invisible-mori, @shujiforever, @vorschlaghannah, @karazorel7, @arquiiva, @samisubi, @gumisgirl, @moranguitosz, @pasta-warlord, @thejeezyweezys, @4ri3n, @goldeneclipsedragon, @kaerean, @vitaminjee, @grooveandshit, @californiadreaming20, @ilovetwodmen, @bontensbabygirl, @crazynocturnalkiki, @gojosatorumyoneandonly, @bloodmoon25, @jaszzsy, @strxwberrysmoothii, @naruucore, @puffaloxx, @starlightstream, @purplegalaxynight, @sinnerstardoll, @eliz-lovesgojo, @hopplessdreamer, @sociedadvinperfecta, @jamleon, @ichikanu, @negroperson, @anakinskywalkersloverr, @dohwaesu, @rosesxviness, @goldeneclipsedragon, @forest4bee,
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i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)
pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count: 4.5k
summary:
As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.
But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?
author's note:
my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!
content warnings/tags:
explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!
Translations you may need:
Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York
Sí - Yes
Dios mío - My god
El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics
Mierda - Shit
Te lo prometo - I promise you
Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god
Arañita - little spider
Cállate - be quiet
Mirame - look at me
te sientes tan bien - you feel so good
Perfecto - perfect
________
You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes.
“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York.
A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”
“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly.
“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.
“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”
Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.
“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”
Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”
“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?”
“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”
A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.
“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order.
“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.
“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you.
Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.
Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.
You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you.
“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”
________
Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.
You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output.
He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years.
Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming.
He just doesn’t know what.
________
Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—
No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor.
He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom.
You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on.
“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.
“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room.
“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer.
“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space.
There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.
“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him.
“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”
“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips?
“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”
“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.
You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.
________
Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.
“You can tell me to do anything.”
Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail.
“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks.
“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.
“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”
“You knew there was a risk of that.”
You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”
Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”
You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis.
“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks.
“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”
You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.
After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.
“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.
You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.
“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”
“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”
“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.
“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.
But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.
“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.
“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”
“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”
“Are you sure you want—“
Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”
“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”
As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.
_______
Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins.
“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.
“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”
He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”
“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box.
“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”
You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”
Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm.
“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you.
He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.
You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom.
You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”
“It did,” he replies.
“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”
Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.
“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“
His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.
“Dr. O’Hara—“
“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”
“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp.
“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”
Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.
His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.
“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.
“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.
“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.
“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”
You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”
“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.
As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.
“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”
The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel.
He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.
“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”
“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body.
“I can’t!”
“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”
Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.
“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”
You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.
“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.
“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.
“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.
“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”
You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.
“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”
“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast.
Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.
His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.
Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.
“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls.
“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”
“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.”
“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.
He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”
“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.
His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.
“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”
You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.
He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.
“That was—“
“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“
“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”
He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.
“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.
“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded.
You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”
You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”
The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:
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