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sutorus · 6 months

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OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist.

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response.

he had told you to dress up today.

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs.

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time.

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him.

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough.

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him?

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now.

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely.

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most.

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands.

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong.

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that.

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people.

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four.

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it.

the heat inside you spreads further.

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there.

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds.

your shut your eyes tightly.

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are.

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses.

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win.

a one in eight change.

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day.

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort.

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger.

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you.

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least.

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over.

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy.

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are.

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know.

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt.

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all.

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere.

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy.

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit.

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers.

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock.

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race.

but his fingers don’t leave you.

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles.

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you.

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of.

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse.

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him.

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for.

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more.

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well.

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder.

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another.

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place.

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you.

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you.

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease.

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair.

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch.

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place.

how fitting.

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.”

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense.

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face.

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it.

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all.

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger.

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement.

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout.

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks.

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

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