Chapter Text
“Aren’t I a bit old?” Toji asks with a sleazy scowl, condescending. She knows the answer already, but she asks anyway. Wants to hear her say it.
“Isn’t that the reason I’m here?” Satoru dodges the question innocently, batting her long eyelashes at the older woman. The grip on her thigh tightens and she nearly hisses, looking down. Thick fingers, short nails sloppily painted in black nail polish, spreading out over her porcelain skin as though they belong there. The hand is so large against her lean legs, it makes her dizzy.
“Is it?” Toji growls. It’s a surprise Satoru can hear her over the roar of the club, through the thrumming beat of the bass. “Thought you were here to get picked up. I wasn't under the impression you just wanted to connect to your elders. Do you need someone to fuck you right?”
It’s not like Satoru has been beating around the bush, but the blunt, straight-forward question has knots forming in her throat. She turns her wide-eyed stare on Toji, who looks downright ravenous.
Swallow.
“If I say yes–” when did she get so breathless? She makes sure her lips touch the shell of Toji’s ear as she pants in her ear, “will you take me home now?”
She feels Toji’s body shake with her laughter from where she is perched in her lap. Toji leans her head back, stares down at Satoru. It makes her so wet. “Home? Why wait so long?”
“H-huh?”
Their booth is shrouded in darkness, the main reason Satoru hadn't clocked Toji the second she'd walked into the bar, and instead spent nearly half an hour texting her girlfriend and whining about not finding any hot people. Suguru had called her a slut and told her to come home if she couldn't find anyone within the next hour.
Of course, that made it a challenge. Satoru had grinded against almost every interested woman on the dance floor, tiny skirt riding up and top sliding down to reveal more and more of her perky tits as hands of all sizes felt up her waist, her legs, her neck. She'd gotten wetter the longer it went on, but every time, they all moved onto a new dance partner or got grabbed by an indignant lover.
Psh. Joke's on them. She would never drag Suguru away from feeling up a hot girl.
Either way. It was about ten minutes before Suguru's deadline when she saw her.
Brooding almost, in a lonely booth, eyes trained on Satoru. It made her gulp, the sudden attention even from this distance. The woman was loosely holding a bottle of beer, and for a second Satoru wished it were her neck instead.
Hook, line–
The woman tilted her head, short hair falling over her eyes as scarred lips curled into a disgusting smile. Her droopy eyelids seemed to beckon her over.
And sinker!
To: Suguru<3
[1:02 am] catch~~~~! don't wait up on me
[You have started sharing your location!]
From: Suguru<3
[1:03 am] please get the shitty personality fucked out of you before you get home
So she slides on the leather seat of the booth beside her, snatches the beer. She hates beer, and she can't quite hide her grimace as it slides down her throat. The woman seems to find it amusing, if anything.
"That's not yours," she says.
And fuck, her voice. Deep and scratchy yet somehow audible over the mayhem of the club. Satoru wants to hear it in her ear, calling her a good girl. Calling her a whore.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry. I wish I could make it up to you somehow…"
She arches an eyebrow at her, pouting her lips in a way that Suguru calls annoying, but it always makes her smack Satoru around harder, so– joke's on her.
"Are you even legal," the woman asks instead. Somehow, Satoru gets a feeling that she wouldn't quite care otherwise. She must be fucked in the head, the way her cunt clenched at the thought.
"Yes ma'am," she replies instead, voice chirpy. She pushes her body against hers, long, bare legs sliding against rough jeans. She lets her fingers trail over a huge bicep, sharp nails tapping against the t-shirt blocking her way. "Are you?"
She laughs, a hearty laugh. "What a sweet thing. Here all by yourself?"
"Mhmm. Now. Got a wife at home though," she jokes, and Toji smirks at her and finally fully turns her head towards Satoru. Her eyes slide down from her face to her tits, and Satoru rubs her legs against each other.
"And does the wife know you're here?"
"Which answer would turn you on more?"
"What a brat," she says, smacking her lips. Not a negative observation.
"I guess I need a bit of a guiding hand," Satoru sighs. She's not screaming to cover the music anymore, having leaned close enough to reach her ears. "What should I call you? Or should I go straight to daddy?"
A huge arm lands on her thigh, and Satoru flinches. Her hand is warm, hot even, even against her heated skin. "How about Toji for now. Skip the honorifics."
Satoru bites her lip and pressed her body against hers even harder. "Then call me Satoru."
"Oh, I'll call you whatever I want, sweetheart."
Her tone is so condescending, even over the riot, even as a growl in her ear. Satoru closes her eyes and shifts, her ass sticking to the leather of the seat.
Toji drinks from her beer, drowns it in one go and then flags down a bartender, asking for another. Satoru knows for a fact that there's no on table service, but the bartender does not hesitate to fulfil Toji's request.
Interesting.
Hot.
However. She can't quite manage to hide her distaste for the beer or for the clear intention to stay here longer. Satoru doesn't really mind having to butter up a date for longer, but she's pent up now. She doesn't often drink but the one cocktail she'd indulged in was coursing through her veins, blood pumping, making her sloppy.
Toji thinks she's hilarious, given the smile she gives her as the arm from her thigh shifts to wrap around her waist.
"Anything wrong?"
Satoru thinks about pushing her luck. With pursed lips, she pushes herself up and in her lap, and her legs spread far further than she'd anticipated over Toji's thighs. She yelps, nearly losing balance.
The arm around her waist flexes and before she knows it, she's been manhandled over only one thigh. Her skirt flutters around them, letting her overheated cunt settle against rough denim, and she gasps.
Toji gives her that sleazy smile she's beginning to realise is just her resting face.
"My my…"
Satoru's hands come up to Toji's shoulders and she wraps them around her neck. Like this they're at eye-level, and she gives the older woman an annoying grin, all teeth.
"How forward," Satoru whines.
One hand is back on her thigh, caressing the skin there, not quite touching the edge of her skirt.
"You're so strong," she says instead, leaning in to talk in her ear. "And huge. You're so nice, taking care of me like this."
"Aren't I a bit old?"
So yes. One could even say Satoru has scored.
"You're too desperate to wait that long," Toji tells her, as though she knows, as though Satoru has no idea what she needs. It makes her cheeks heat up.
"But- here?"
"Mm? Where else?" Toji's fingers slide under her skirt and Satoru shifts her legs further apart, her bony knees parting awkwardly, and she jumps when Toji traces the band of her panties.
It causes her to rub against the older woman's thigh and the friction against her throbbing clit makes her moan.
"Oh, how incident," Toji tsks. It shouldn't get her this hot. "Is this not a good spot," she continues even as her other hand slides underneath Satoru's tank, large hand cupping one of her tits, "or do you only want to get groped on the dance floor."
Satoru is shameless, but even recounting her earlier… trysts makes her a little embarrassed. She– she'd been frustrated, alright?
"I-"
"You, yeah," Toji interrupts her as she thumbs her nipple. Satoru gasps, and Toji takes advantage of her open mouth to slide two fingers down her throat. When had she let go of her leg? "You like an audience? Eyes on you, watching you act up? Or was that little show a one off thing?"
Without Toji to hold her in place, Satoru's hips nearly move on their own, canting against a muscular thigh. Pleasure curses through her at the aborted movements, and she can feel her panties getting more and more soaked as she grinds.
Toji's face is delighted as she slides her fingers in and out of her mouth, not really giving her time to suck. She manages to get her tongue against them, but Toji grabs it between her fingers, gives it a tug.
Satoru whines.
"See, I think it wasn't. Satoru, did you say? Well, Satoru, I think you're a little bit of an attention whore."
Letting go of her tongue, her fingers grow more aggressive, moving in her mouth, down her throat, causing her to choke a bit, as though she's trying to map out the inside of her, as though getting a feel for the tight wetness in there.
Satoru is drooling. She is so fucking turned on.
"And I think you need to get fucked like one. Right here, where anyone could see you. You seem to agree,” Toji tells her with a demeaning chuckle, nodding down, where her hips do not cease even once in their movement.
She finally withdraws her fingers, and Satoru gasps for air. A hand quickly grabs her ponytail, and angles her head down. Toji’s fingers are slick with her spit, shining obscenely in the dim coloured lights of the club. Satoru pants, not quite giving a shit about anyone seeing them despite Toji’s words.
She watches Toji’s hand, and her heartbeat picks up at the thought of having those fingers in her. It nearly sends her reeling, the strength of that desire. Her hand inches closer to her cunt, and Toji picks up the edge of her skirt. Satoru’s blood rushes to her face as she lifts her skirt to look at her baby blue panties, probably drenched in her arousal, even though she can’t quite see, getting dizzy with how hot her cheeks feel.
Toji must be satisfied with what she sees, and Satoru can already feel those fingers bullying their way into her tight–
“Go on then,” Toji tells her, an edge to her voice, as though she’s not really offering Satoru a choice here. Her cunt clenches around nothing. “Get yourself off against my thigh, like a good little bitch. Maybe after that I’ll fuck you.”
Satoru whines, a loud, displeased thing and Toji’s head snaps back up, levelling her with dark eyes. The hand in her hair tightens its grip, and she drags Satoru’s face closer to her, not once letting the skirt drop back down, keeping her exposed.
“What, doll? Are you unhappy? Do you need something inside you to cum? What a cockslut you are,” she scolds, and Satoru briefly feels like an unruly child, the way she’s being talked to. “I’m not touching you until you do what I tell you to do. And if I need to smack you to get your obedience, I will. Don’t waste my time.”
With that, she slouches back against the couch, letting go of Satoru’s hair, and tucking the edge of the skirt into the waistband. She moves fast, Satoru barely realises she has until there is a lit cigarette in her mouth, a hand on her hip and an expectant gaze on her body.
Satoru is shaking, almost. She isn’t sure what to do with her hands anymore and her wide eyed stare desperately searches Toji’s face. She is insanely handsome, hot in a way she imagines her Suguru will be in twenty years.
She is also unimaginably wet, and feels it dripping down her thigh. But. She has never been anything if not an overachiever.
So she hangs the remnants of her shame up, grips Toji’s knee behind her and begins grinding down against her thigh.
The music covers her first moan, louder than intended and much more whorish than expected, but it doesn’t stop her. She puts on a little show for her, heaving and whimpering as pleasure spikes through her limbs, her movements choppy. Keeps her eyes on Toji’s, who is not even looking at her face, gaze trained on her pussy.
It makes her even hotter, gets her going more than she’d have ever thought, the casual objectification of it all.
She’s losing friction, too wet to do anything but slide against the cotton of her panties, so she reaches down to move them aside, to really feel those jeans against her cunt.
“Uh uh,” Toji suddenly tuts, cigarette dangling from her lips. The scar stretches and contracts as she speaks. “Keep those on. How shameless, do you want to flash everyone? What a dirty girl, you’re gonna ruin my pants.”
“B-but–” Satoru interrupts herself with a moan. “But I can’t…”
“Eh? Can’t what?”
She purses her lips but her movements do not cease. She’s too wet to feel anything other than flashes of pressure against her clit. She’s not sensitive enough to come just from that. Not yet, at least.
Once more, Toji knows the answer. Once more, Toji wants to hear her say it.
Satoru takes the bait.
“I can’t come like this, I need more. I need you to touch me!”
She makes sure her voice is just whiny enough, just annoying enough to get her what she wants. Toji tilts her head, that slimy grin back on her face. She puts out her cigarette against the cold metal of the table and grabs Satoru by the chin.
“How needy. How worthless, can’t do anything by herself. Are you too stupid?”
Satoru closes her eyes. She’s on edge, she can feel her orgasm, just out of reach, but her body just won’t cooperate. Toji’s breath stinks of tobacco, but Suguru’s does too, sometimes, so she lets it wash over her, and fights the gag back down.
“Open your mouth.”
The music goes a bit quiet as the transitions between songs bring about nothing but nauseating bass, the kind Satoru feels in her chest. There’s a stutter in the rhythmic back and forth of her hips, her cunt pulsing, leaking. Her nipples are hard, making her clench her teeth every time the fabric of her top brushes against them.
She has just met this woman. She is turned on beyond belief. Toji, for once, lets her take her time, but of course.
She opens her mouth.
Lets her tongue lull out, for good measure, pants a little. Makes herself pretty for Toji.
The spit lands half-way in her mouth, half on her cheek. She keeps her mouth open, as the older woman shifts her grip to let her thumb rub her own spit on Satoru’s tongue. She gathers the rest of it from her face, feeds it to her. Tells her to swallow like a good girl.
Satoru does.
She is strung so tight, so close. She needs to come so bad, it hurts but Toji won’t give her her fingers. She doesn’t let go of her jaw either, as her other hand slides back underneath her top to grope at her tits, fondle and play with her nipples as Satoru humps away at her thigh. Her expression doesn’t change much either, somewhere between disinterest and hunger.
Clearly. She has to change tactics.
“Don’t you wanna fuck me?” she whines instead. The pressure on her jaw grows and she squirms, trying her best to speak through Toji’s hold. “I’m so wet, you can just slide in. I’ll be tight for you, don’t you want that? I’ll be your little toy, I’ll–” she swallows the spit gathering in her mouth and decides to see how far she can go. “I’ll let you come inside.”
Toji’s eyes darken even more, if possible. For a moment, nothing happens, and Satoru holds her breath. But then Toji breaks into laughter, something mean, and her palm pats Satoru’s cheek, almost affectionately, before smacking her.
It’s not powerful, less powerful than Suguru’s, but it makes her moan and with a harsh grind against Toji’s thigh she comes, a high-pitched whine sliding out of her throat.
Toji’s eyes are rabid, the grip on her thigh just enough to bruise as her fingers find Satoru’s sensitive clit, rubbing it through her panties. She yelps and groans and tries to move away from the overstimulation, but Toji won’t let her.
“You’re such a fucking brat, so insolent. I should put you over my knee right here, teach you some respect.”
“Y-yes, fuck!”
“Yeah, you want that? You want me to fuck you up, stretch you out, give you what you need?”
“Yes! Give me your strap, I– I need it.”
Her fingers pick up the pace, tight, little circles on her clit, and she pushes her through the pain of overstimulation, building up another peak, making her pant like a dog.
“Of course you need it, sweetheart, you’ve been aching for it all night. Lucky I found you, huh? You’ll beg for it, you’ll beg me to mount you like a bitch in heat, and you’ll just lie there and take it like a good little doll, won’t you.”
Satoru doesn’t beg.
“O-oh, yeah, I’ll–fuck– yeah I’ll take it, whatever you give me, please, I want it so bad, I’m– I’m gonna come again, fuck–”
“Go on, doll, go ahead and come, like the easy slut you are.”
Satoru’s eyes roll back as her second orgasm hits her like a truck. Toji’s fingers leave her clit alone, and she hastily pushes her panties out of the way and slides two thick fingers inside without any warning. Satoru almost shouts, a little cry pushing its way out of her throat as Toji rubs her walls, feeling her clench around her fingers as she swears under her breath.
It takes her a while to come down from her high, but when she finally does, Toji pushes her to stand on shaky legs, her arm coming to hold her upright by the waist. Her skirt has been untucked, but it’s not like it was covering too much in the first place. Her ankles ache on her heels.
“Hope you’ve got more than that in you,” Toji says once they have pushed out into the cold night, leaving the noise of the club behind.
“Oh, I hope you’re not all talk, daddy.”