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cr4yolaas · 2 days

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the first time they say “i love you” — various jjk men

tags: fluff, angst, cursing, descriptions of injury (gojo), guilt, not proofread

𝜗𝜚 nanami kento

the soft lights of his kitchen fell onto your faces, each string of golden light illuminating every muscle, vein, and bone. there was a comfortable silence floating about. for once, you are both at peace — save for the bits of dried blood littered on your flesh and the distraught uniforms you’ve both discarded into some random corner.

you had finished your mission with him far too late, thus leading to his insistence that you stay the night. you could not decline, not when he bore a tincture of a smile on his lips and a warm radiance that whispered your name in delicate tones. you found yourself clad in his sleep shirt that was much too large for your frame. he pretended to not be enamored by the sight.

“kento,” you spoke. “can you put in the potatoes?”

curry was the meal of choice for tonight. very rarely did a man as strict as him indulge himself in such a meal, but he could only surrender to your persistence.

“of course,” he murmured absentmindedly while dumping the potatoes into the pot one by one as you continued to stir.

a small word of appreciation left your lips as you maintained your attention on the meal. the sight was overwhelmingly domestic, nanami noticed. he felt it in the way you wore his clothes with such familiarity, and in the way you wore his house slippers. it was evident in the way you used his kitchen utensils as if they were yours, and in the way you focused so intently on the contents of your creation.

nanami kento was overwhelmed by the warmth you exuded.

with his voice ghosting through the air and onto your skin, he whispered a soft “i love you,” the words foreign on his tongue yet natural all the same.

your stirring came to a halt. nanami feared he had done something wrong, until you beamed at him with a gentle phrase of reciprocation, each syllable making his lips curl up into a smile he had not worn for a handful of moments.

𝜗𝜚 gojo satoru

satoru felt a little too strongly at times. his emotions crashed and burned and fueled disasters in his chest that ruptured into much, much larger catastrophes, leaving him no longer the strongest, but instead the most vulnerable.

you sat on the table as shoko inspected your body. shallow, intermittent breaths escaped from the cracks between your teeth, the most immediate evidence of your struggle (as if the gaping tear in your arm and the gash along your side weren’t enough).

satoru observed quietly, bearing a patience that was foreign on his tongue. long lost promises of protection and safety seemed to be gone with the tides. acknowledging that much left him neutered.

he watched as shoko left the room without as much as a whisper. you placed your weight against your unharmed arm, allowing your legs to dangle off the edge of the metal. he loathed the sight — not because of you, but because of what happened to you. he approached you slowly, his footsteps in limbo as he neared the table.

with a touch that was slightly too rough, he placed his hands on your thighs, his calloused fingertips rubbing against the marred flesh. “i’m sorry,” he murmured. “i should’ve been there. fuck, i’m so sorry.”

you shook your head at him, to which he displayed disapproval of. “it was out of your control,” you whispered. he was grateful to hear your voice intact, at the very least.

“still,” he argued. “i told you i was going to help you. and now, because of some reckless mistake, i’ve landed you on this table while i’m unscratched. it isn’t fair.”

“it’s not your fault, satoru. i’m still here, aren’t i?”

gojo satoru was weak to your words. he buried his head into the space between your shoulder and neck, his haggard breaths fanning against your exposed skin. “i love you,” he uttered into your flesh, as if hoping his display of devotion would embed itself into each fiber of muscle and bone. “don’t leave me.”

𝜗𝜚 toji fushiguro

toji wasn’t quite watching carefully (like you told him to) when you wrapped up his wounds. he knew he was supposed to. but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when the dim lights of his bathroom painted you graciously, akin to the songs of heaven falling upon the most heralded angel.

his angel — a double meaning, defined both by your persistence to tend to his injuries and your gentle nature, relative to him, at least.

he wasn’t sure if the way you pulled harshly on the wrappings or the way you cursed at him incessantly would be considered very gentle by most. but to him, it was the strongest wave of tenderness he had encountered.

“stop getting into stupid shit,” you berated, your voice reverberating against the cramped walls. “i can’t keep doing this, you big child.”

the quiver in your lip sold your anxiety, the sight leaving toji with much bemusement. without much hesitation, his voice tumbled out of his mouth, a strong profession of love leaving his lips and falling onto your ears.

you paused in your actions, the medical wrap halfway around his hand. “… say that again?”

“i said i love you. what, are you mean and deaf now?”

you tore of the remainder of the tape with a newfound ferocity at his accusation, feigning ignorance to the heat rushing to your face and the stutters in your breath. “no, i just can’t fathom the idea of you saying something like that.”

toji fushiguro found himself smiling down at you. a gentle warmth encapsulated his very being and drenched him with a vulnerability he had not uncovered in years.

“believe me anyways.”

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44st4rs · 2 days

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ON THE SCENE!

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ synopsis: the life of a pornstar like toji full of bliss, prestige, and the freedom to do whatever he wants...until you break out on the scene!

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ pairings: pornstar!fem!reader x pornstar!toji fushiguro

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ cw: 4.4k, oral(f.receiving), facesitting, toji's mushy, exhibitionism, consensual filming, unprotected sėx, crèmepie

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ words from chris: just a repost but i hope you still enjoy!

“Toji!” you squealed, pulling him into a tender embrace. The strength of his forearms had to offer alone clung around you, his lips busying themselves with wayward pecks along your flexed cheeks. “Hey Angelface, what’s got you all happy? Don’t say it’s me now,” he jested, parting from your cheek.

You met the blazoned green hues of his eyes, jubilance dotting Toji’s pupils with their subtlety. He gave you the exact glance each and every time you had been in his presence, filling your belly with the bliss of butterflies.

“Ready for this shoot?” You inquired, rustling the thick locks of Toji’s hair. He nodded compliantly, bringing his accursed grin to light.

“You already know how much I love making you cum, Beautiful.”

Just the smitten words from the Toji Fushiguro.

At the age of 35, he managed to capture all the hearts of women and even men all around the world–one film at a time. For an adult film star like himself, it wasn’t unusual for him to rally quite the following he acquired, each one vying for his attention, but his touch all the more.

It was in the manner that Toji could fold a woman in half and have her begging for more that drove his fan base insane. He always delivered an intoxicating watch, his skill to produce faux connections with his partner was unmatched.

Of course, through such skill of deception, no one really did expect for the salacious man to fall for anyone. At least that was the cause… until you broke onto the scene.

Since entering the film industry three years after Toji’s debut, the attention came flocking to you. Basking in similar talents that he possessed, any man could fall for you with how you’d claw at the expanse of his back, cry out their name, and use such tantalizing stares–it was a done deal.

The request for you and Toji to finally work together had flooded in, drowning out anything else deemed unsuitable for both your causes.

The day that you and Toji met was like nothing before, the fondnesses for each other blossoming at first sight. Toji knew he’d been enamored when you first flashed him a giddy smile, coaxing for his cheeks to prickle with embarrassment.

As time went on, every time you and Toji worked together, the lines between fantasy and reality grew increasingly blurred. The revelation weighed upon both shoulders, unspoken feelings that were casted away from mind. It became apparent in the way Toji held you, his hands rubbing along every inch of your body.

He had grown attached to your every curve, never wanting to part once the cameras completed its task. Whenever you worked with someone who wasn’t him, Toji was swift with his punishments, discreetly bullying your cervix beneath the harsh glare from the lens.

Eventually, it took to him making advances. Beginning with suggesting that you should come to visit his humble abode, all for it to end with you leaving the next day. His attraction to you was crippling, hindering his once-hailed versatility.

In truth, Toji Fushiguro only wanted you at his side.

Now here he stood, an arm around the waist of your robe and admiring you through the mirror. With just moments before the start of the shoot, Toji began to set his plan into motion, hoping he’d gain his desired results.

“What are you doing after this?” Toji hummed, pressing yet another stream of pecks along your temple. You shrugged your shoulders, “Nothing, unless you have something in mind.” He directed his lustful gaze towards your own, a delighted chuckle seeping from his throat.

“I have a couple of things we can do, but first things first–we’ve got a job to do,” he declared, bracing his arms around your hips for extra security. Ripping you from the mirror, Toji lifted you into the air with a smile curling onto his lips.

Without a lick of retaliation, you allowed him to carry you away, bringing the both of you into the brightly lit room. Toji rested you atop the edge of the bed, his hulking figure standing before you.

Instinctively, you tugged at the loose knot of Toji’s robe, only for his broad digits to lace around your wrist. “And what’s my pretty baby up to? You know you might hurt yourself,” Toji teased, biting down into the plush of his bottom lip.

“Your what? Toji, I don’t recall you asking me to be anything remotely near that,” you caught swiftly, earning a snicker to ring from the sculpted hull of Toji’s chest. “Then do you—”

“Alright, looks like you guys are ready. Scene starting in…” the director began, only for you and Toji to drown out the voice alike. Without delay, Toji brought a kiss onto your lips, the crashing fervor rousing the very depths of the man. As your eyes came to a fluttering shut, Toji’s tongue began to grace the caverns of your mouth lazily.

Toji kept himself perched above you, the tips of your fingers running along the exposed skin of his thigh, leading up to his hardened erection behind the robe.

Your fingers wrapped around the thick girth of his shaft, using loose strides to stir Toji awake. He unleashed a sudden whimper against your lips, prying himself from the kiss. Toji hung his head beside your ear, wincing along the shell.

“Fuck–I love when you touch me like that,” Toji groaned, just enough for you to hear. You struggled to control the gasp that desperately sought to escape from you. Toji was typically a vocal man, spewing all kinds of bits about you.

Yet, he was never so vulnerable to confess his own direct pleasures. It was prominent in how the supple pad of your thumb swiped at the swollen tip, flushed in hues of an innocent pink. Toji bucked into your fists, his erratic response bringing concerns to mind.

“You’re sensitive, Toji. Tell me what’s going on,” you voiced nervously, slowing your pace gradually. He only shook his head as he drew his arms back, allowing for the silk robe to fall from his bare body. With his chest smoldering against your breasts, Toji gained a bit of control over the situation again, pinning you to the soft duvet of the bed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Toji taunted, his lips settling against yours once again. The tips of his fingers grew curious, tugging at the knot of your robe gently. His eyes panned over your body, revealing itself as the silky material set beneath you.

“I can never get enough of you, Y/N. You always keep me wanting more,” Toji cooed as he pulled away, guiding his promiscuous hand to ghost the band of your panties. “I can tell, but that’s the way I like it,” you replied, lifting your hips to aid him.

Once he discarded you of the obstructing cloth, the rough pads of his digits drifted between your legs, parting the puffy lips of your cunt. He teased your clit with pulsing taps, slipping his middle finger between the viscid mess tucked behind your folds. You whined at his touch, pressing your forehead against his own.

“Tojiii,” you dragged out, “I hate when you play with me like this!” He chuckled softly at your argument, a mere kiss of his finding solace along the tip of your nose. “And what are you doing to me right now? You’re taking advantage of me being just a lil’ sensitive. So who’s the mean one?”

You rolled your eyes, disregarding the truth within Toji’s words. “Which you still won’t–holy shit!” You gasped as Toji slipped his digits through your slit, your back arching in response. He grinned at how your body reacted to his touch, curling his fingers to nudge at your sweet spot.

The hold around Toji’s cock had withdrawn itself, your hand latching onto his tensed forearm. “It’s too soon, I don’t wanna come yet!” You confessed to him through shuddering breaths. Toji shook his head as he slowly drew his digits from within, admiring how glossy they appeared in the short time.

“Of course not, I just wanted to get you ready,” Toji informed as he rose from you, dropping his burly figure atop of the bed. You didn’t need an explanation from him to know exactly what Toji was thinking, it was just the unspoken language between you both. Completely shedding the robe from you, you laggardly crawled over Toji, resting your thighs beside his head.

From his post beneath you, Toji placed his hands along your arms, guiding the limbs to rest along the wooden headboard. “You look on top of me, y’know that?” Toji joked, placing a kiss into your inner thigh. Whipping your head to the side, you mumbled softly into your arm, “Shut up, Toji.” He caught on to your coy nature, his hands navigating your hips to hover above his smug grin.

“Why don’t you make me…Princess.”

Before you could reply, the broad of Toji’s tongue had already sunk past the lips of your cunt, indulging in your precious essence. Your hands resting atop the headboard began to clench, baring the wooden to ground you.

Toji had such a graceful way of spurring your body into an orgasm, all when he saw fit. It was a task he held with the highest degree, devoting all his energy to the moment. He lived to witness your body fall at his touch, working his tongue to glide across the exposed nerves.

The whimsical spews of rambles outpoured from your mouth, only bringing amusement to Toji’s ears. He dragged the slicked muscle through the thin sheets of your folds, only to draw himself back to place a sloppy kiss against the plump lips of your cunt. Every so often, Toji would send a passing glance over your trembling physique, his everlasting gratification written with every moan to pass through your mouth.

The palms of Toji’s hands pressed into your pelvis, his tongue swiping at your clit with its heightened pace. He hummed at your request, sealing the tender bud within his mouth, only to release his hold with a lewd ‘pop’ of his lips.

There was no need for instruction or even words of praise to fall from your gaping jaw. With the number of times you’ve been with Toji, he had become accustomed to all the in’s and out’s of you. He knew how every curve would sit perfectly in his hand, or how much time it took for you to reach a proper high.

You peered down at the lewd scene unfolding, whimpering in Toji’s care. The hazy gaze of his eyes intimidated you to the core of your being. It was the same gaze he had whenever he’d have you all to himself, either during shoots or at the convenience of his own pleasures. You never could comprehend what it was Toji loved about you, why he’d become so insistent on only ever wanting to work with you.

Then again, such thoughts as the “why’s” had to be reserved for a much later date, the building pressure of your release pooling within the pits of your belly. Your hips began to rut against Toji’s tongue, even using the rounded end of his nose to your advantage.

All he could do was grin at the explicit display, his folded arms supporting your frantic swipes. “That’s a good girl, use my tongue just like that!” Toji encouraged, grinding his back into the mattress beneath. Your ears hadn’t picked up on Toji’s assurance, being drowned out by the heft of your high.

Your legs came to a slamming shut, your body collapsing beside Toji. He took to pulling you into his chest, the warmth of his skin radiating surrounding you. He pressed comforting kisses into your smothered cheek.

“You always look so pretty coming down,” he purred, cupping your jaw softly. When you finally met his gaze, a sweet smile was inclined to take onto your lips towards the man beside you.

Toji lugged himself to his knees, resting back upon his haunches. He was careful to pry your legs apart, leaving gentle pecks along the curve of your knee. He filled the space between your thighs, pulling your frame closer to his reach.

“Think you’re ready? I have no problem taking my time with you if need be,” he joked, the pad of his thumb grazing along your bottom lip, You shook your head, ensuring that it was clear for him to proceed.

Toji directed his attention down between his legs, his free hand forming a firm fist along his tanned shaft. The swollen head of his cock nudged at your clit, your body flinching beneath the weight of it.

The curves of your nails grazed along the contoured ridges of Toji’s abdomen, etching crescent marks into his skin. “Look at you, being greedier than ever,” he snickered, inching his aching cock between your folds. “No, you just get off by being mean to me,” you chided, pushing out a pestered pout on your lips.

Toji darted his sights, shifting from your narrowed glare to the thumping crown of his cock. Even he couldn’t keep himself waiting any longer, giving in to your merciful whims just this once.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’ll be nice and give you exactly what you’re asking for,” he returned, aligning his hips with your own. In foul push, he snapped his hips against yours, your gummy walls struggling to envelop the entirety Toji’s cock.

An inaudible gasp filled your lungs, the glossy stream of drool spilling from your mouth. No matter how many times you were with Toji, you couldn’t ever properly adjust to the mind-numbing girth he offered, the stretch sending your thoughts into a state of absence.

“Shhh, I’ve got you. That’s what happens when you rush perfection, Baby,” he cooed, rubbing at the plush of your flexed tummy. As your eyes began to loll to the back of your skull, a frown spread across Toji’s face, finding displeasure with your lack of eye contact.

“Hey, stay with me, Gorgeous, if you do I’ll give you a surprise,” Toji wagered, grinding his pelvis against you. Gradually, the whites of your eyes were replaced by your own dazed hues, barely grappling with the moment. Toji knew he had to work fast, using the only method he knew best with you.

Cupping your jaw, Toji brought his lips to yours, humming a soft tune as he allowed for his hips to draw back from inside you. “Keep that pretty mouth of yours open for me,” he whispered, eyes trained to the glimmering spool of spit leaving from his mouth, dripping along the grooves of your tongue.

“Swallow it, finish the job,” Toji added, his ears piqued for the harsh gulp traveling down your throat. With his satisfactions met, Toji planted his palms into the plushy mass of cotton beneath your head, his hips gathering more force with every passing second.

Curses flew from his mouth, nonsensical babbles about how good you felt around him. As much as Toji wanted to bask in your warmth, he still had a goal in mind, gritting back the pool of arousal building at his core.

Bringing his features above your own, Toji began to speak once more, using a kindred tone to lull you to his long-strayed rhythm. “Y/N, I thought you would’ve caught on by on,” Toji mumbled, his hands gripping at the plush surrounding your waist.

“On to what?” You replied, confining the hitching breaths to your lungs. Toji released a pitiful huff into the air, realizing that an answer was due. He sank his head within the crook of your neck, his breath warming the shell of your ear.

“All those dates we went on, the times I’ve asked you to stay over. I mean, just add a few more of your dresses and you’ll basically be living with me. Not to mention how much I hate whenever you’re on a job with someone else, it breaks my heart honestly,” he confessed, earring your whimpers as a form of response.

“Point is, Y/N…I want us to be..together, officially, not just behind the scenes–”

Your brows knitted in the wake of Toji’s confession, unsure of how to reply during the current situation. “You can’t be asking this now, Toji. You are shit with your timing,” you winced woefully, thrashing your head against the pillow.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, I don’t care if I have to keep this up ‘til I pass out. I’m leaving today with you as my girlfriend,” he announced pridefully, adjusting himself on top of you. Just as you processed Toji’s words, his hips began to drive into you, plunging his cock deeper than before.

Each stroke was more relentless than the last, his flushed tip bullying your cervix into the inevitable submission. After your first orgasm, the sensitivity lining your cunt made its presence vividly clear, the overstimulation taking its heavy toll upon you.

Toji hadn’t let even the slightest jolt of your body gone unnoticed, relying on his words to soon push yout over the edge. “Y/NN,” he called out innocently, a complacent smirk dressing his visage. You darted your patchy gaze from his face to the hand he pressed below your navel.

“Can’t you feel just how deep I am? It feels so fucking good, doesn’t it,” he taunted, blowing faux kisses of apathy to your direction. You could only squirm beneath his hulking frame. Toji’s sly comments only fed the heft of your pending orgasm.

“You’re creaming, Angel! You must be closer than I thought,” Toji sang, adding to his lewd spews to fluster you. You struggled to reply to him, only short-winded gasps and moans feeding Toji’s ears.

“M’ so close, fuck, it’s right-“ A shrilling squeal interrupted your words, the overwhelming pressure within your stomach giving way. The pricklings tings of your orgasm brought along more than expected, a sudden gush of your release painting Toji’s pelvis with glistening droplets.

Combined with your fluttering walls and wayward writhing into the bed, Toji succumbed to the amorous atmosphere, spilling the sinful hues of white into your womb. His head tossed back in tandem with his high, hot pants warming the air.

Glancing down at the mess adoring his abdomen, Toji chuckled at the sight, finding his balance between your legs once again.

“You came already? And with no answer..guess I’ll just have to keep going, right Baby?” Toji sneered, drawing his hips back once again.

Your arms laced around the nape of his neck, dragging down Toji flushed against your chest. Between shuddering breaths you entertained Toji’s skillful scheme at last, bursting into a fit of giggles.

“You’re a damn idiot, honestly. Of course, I wanna be with you!” you beamed, carding your fingers through his slicked hair. Amidst the mess riddled along Toji’s skin and the mixes of release spilling from your slit, the pair of you basking in what was the abnormal birth of a newly found relationship.

Resting his head within the valley of your breast, Toji’s fingers tweaked around the heartened peak, rattling off about his thoughts.

“Just saying, we’ve been at this for a year now, I think it’s safe to say I love you, don’t you?” Toji hinted, his hazy sights settling in line with your lidded ones.

Just as you began to utter the three words of affirmation, the loud crash of the clapperboard broke you from Toji’s sights, the piercing lights ahead burning your eyes.

“Alright guys, great job today! It felt so real to watch,” the director called from his seat, pulling both you and Toji from the somewhat intimate moment.

The director’s words resonated in your mind, coaxing for a another best of laughter to ring from your chest, Toji following suit. He held you beneath him, peering back at the director with an annoyed stare.

“That’s cause it was real!"

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textmel8r · 19 hours

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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eighth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugarmommy! reader , sugarbaby! toji , smut , submissive toji , finger sucking , masturbation , oral sex (f!receiving) , profanity

୨୧˚ an; so not happy with my writing in this one, probs will rewrite it one day but here, have a couple thousand words of smut🗣️ this is lowkey another filler but lowkey not at the same time? i wanted to fit in another intimate moment before shit goes south awooooooo

You were not fibbing when you said you knew your way around the kitchen. “Holy fuck,” Toji all but moans, tearing into another piece of tender meat with his canines. It was juicy and seasoned almost too much, just the way he likes it. He squints across the table, where you eat in tandem with much better manners than he could ever hope to have. “Who taught you how to cook like this?”

You shrug bashfully under his gawking, wiping your mouth with a dainty stroke of the napkin you had placed in your lap. “I traveled a lot in between semesters at college. Italy, France, Denmark…” You list a few more places that Toji wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. “Those European countries do food so good, I guess it inspired me to give my best shot at it as well.” Self taught, huh? Yeah, you seem like the type to succeed in everything you try.

The man nods, ultimately wishing he had more to add. He wishes he had just an ounce in common with you, a smidgen of relatability to offer. But he doesn’t. Toji didn’t finish school. He’s never left Japan. He’s never cooked a damn thing from scratch in his life. You must’ve caught on to his struggle and decided to show mercy by adding, “actually, right now we’re eating steak au poivre.”

“Steak au po–” He cut himself off before inevitably butchering the name. “What is that? French?”

You’re nodding enthusiastically. “That’s right. I happened upon this dish when I was staying in Bordeaux with a few college mates.” There’s a sweet smile tugging sheepishly at your lips as you recall the memory. “I fell in love with it the second I tried it, and asked the manager right then and there for the recipe.”

Toji shakes his head with disbelief, talking with his mouth full of food. “You’re just full of stories, aren’t you?”

“Some would call me experienced, yes.”

His brow raises. Experienced? Was that a come on? Toji gives way to his own quaint smile, jutting his chin toward you. “Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Steak au whatever.”

You oblige his request, repeating the name back slowly so he could attempt to grasp it. “Steak au poivre. Now you give it a go.”

Toji finishes chewing the mouthful of peppercorn-laced meat, swallowing it down with a swig of the Château Cheval Blanc you’d poured at the start of the meal. Some fancy French imported wine is what he gathered from the long winded description you waxed as you topped off an extravagant glass for him. Wine never really appealed to the man—he usually went for the harder shit. The type that you knock back from lowball glasses. The type to get you piss drunk after three rounds—but it was all you ever drank. It was safe to say he was becoming accustomed to your tastes. Maybe the sweetness wasn’t so terrible. He clears his throat, putting embarrassingly too much effort into his “steak au poivre.” It doesn’t sound pretty the way it did leaving your mouth, and he grimaces. “Can’t fucking do it.”

“I thought you sounded good.” He scoffs at that, but you click your tongue. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just leave the French speaking to you.” The plate before him sits scraped clean. You’re still working on your dinner. Fuck, you’re a slow eater. “You know any more?”

“Any more French, you mean?”

He nods along with a gruff hum, swishing his tongue around his teeth, collecting anything left over of that smokiness from the peppered steak.

“Hm. Tu m'as manqué, Toji.” You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass.

Thick forearms crossed over chest, he croons a deep, barely-there chuckle. “I heard my name. Tell me what you said.”

“No way,” you chortle.

“Ah, c’mon. You’re all blushy.” He licks over the chappedness of his lower lip, knowing gaze latched onto your lips. It was hypnotic, your smile. “You say somethin’ dirty about me, ma’am?”

The way in which your eyes widened coquettishly at the accusation had Toji’s heart beating just a bit more erratically. Like a fawn, he thinks. All that was missing on you was a white, cottony tail.

“If I said something dirty, It would have been in a language you could understand.” Finally, you take the last bite off your dish as well. Hopefully that means dinner is officially over; Toji has been craving dessert since he stepped foot in your house and got showered in ‘welcome back’ gifts. “I’m not the type of woman easily embarrassed by my sexuality. I thought you would have picked that up by now.”

He persists. “What are you embarrassed by?”

“Toji.” His name is spoken sharply, a verbal warning that he was tiptoeing the line. Threatening to shatter that layer of thin ice he stood upon. This is what he’s been needing. This is what he’s been fucking needing.

“I’ve been thinking about you, ma’am.” Any semblance of a filter is long gone, melted by the sheer heat of his desire. His limbs feel heavy, hands tumbling into his lap. They rest on the wide surface area of sweatpant-clad thighs, just sitting there. Feeling himself. “This entire week, I’ve been thinking.”

You seem to get the implications of his confession. “In a sexual way?”

“Yeah.” That’s a white lie. To be truthful was to admit that the sexual thoughts Toji let himself think about you were the minority. Objectifying you in the depths of his mind wasn't enough. He thought about your breasts, sure. He thought about your curves, and your ass, and your mouth, and every other body part that would grant him pleasure. But that wasn’t enough for Toji. Fixations of his tended to lead him astray from fantasies, instead breaching carefully saved memories stored within his brain catalog. When he touched himself, it was more or less to remembrances of mundane tasks you’d dealt him in the past. All the times you had bestowed little gifts and knick knacks on a whim just because they reminded you of him. Or when you drag him to the outlets with you for a shopping spree and he’ll act miserable the entire time, but you both knew it was a horribly crafted facade. Or even, like now, when you’d treat him to dinner because you worry over him and his eating schedule. The little things really counted; a revelation that scared Toji shitless, so he opted to ignore those budding, foreign feelings and replace it with familiarity: lust.

“Toji, honey, are you alright?”

What? His breathing pattern was off kilter, and the muscles of his jaw flexed unconsciously. When had he started palming himself? His right hand had grown a mind of its own apparently, because when Toji stole a glance downward, there it was; kneading roughly at the bulge between his meaty thighs. How desperate was he? To go dormant like that, so consumed with the thought of you that he began to instinctually masturbate himself not even five feet away from where you sit. And why… Why wasn’t he stopping?

“Can we fuck now?”

“Oh.” You barely look shocked. Not the slightest bit appalled like he expected you to be. Instead, slide off a ring that took purchase wrapped around your middle finger. A sigh escapes you as you place the band on the table. “I still have more to ask you. I wanted to know how your work trip went.”

Toji shakes his head, something akin to a toddler trying to get fed vegetables. “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t wanna talk about work.”

“Why not?” You frown, leaning forward against the tabletop. “Was it bad?”

He knows what you’re doing. Trying to make him spill any details about his job. Well, he won’t give in.

A heavy sigh slithers out hoarsely from the deepest part of his lungs, and Toji presses his palms to the table, pushing himself up. He stands tall, much like the tent at his crotch, and slinks along the roundness of the dinner table, walking his fingertips across the top all the while. “I don’t want to talk,” he reiterates, breathy and abrasive.

Finally, Toji stands before you. Still, you are seated, unbothered by the towering man’s presence. No, you’re swirling your wine glass sophisticatedly, lips pursed into a narrow line. Like you’re the slightest bit irritated with his persistent defiance.

God, you won't even look at him.

Or maybe, you were never irritated at all. Toji cops a second glance to your lips, finding the faintest ghost of a frown. “You’ve been acting so… so removed. Ever since you left.” Now you’re looking at him; Toji shudders under the intense fire that billows behind your eyes, wide and wetted with worry. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. I want your trust, Toji.”

You have his trust. Every last crumb of it resides in the palm of your soft hand.

“... And I know that it’s stupid—I’m stupid for wanting that from you. I know what this relationship is, and I know that there are these unspoken boundaries, but I—I can’t—”

It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak with such a volatile expression. There was a tremble of uncertainty in your vocal chords, carrying into the skittish dialogue that tumbled out in rambles. Something about such a show of pity from you, his Y/n, made his guts churn like butter. He can’t listen to this any more. With swiftness, Toji dives down to press his mouth against yours, swallowing the words that die on your tongue. One hand grips the back of your chair, the other holds the roundness of your cheek. He feels your gasp, feels the way your shoulders jolt in surprise, but he doesn’t release you.

This was really only his second instance of kissing you. The first had been in his bed, with his groin pressed to yours, tongue fighting its way to the back of your throat with greedy fervor. This second kiss was anything but greedy, though. Despite the ache that roiled at the base of his stomach, Toji didn’t serve you a kiss that reflected his desire. Tongues never met and spit was never swapped; just lips on glossed lips.

At last, Toji reluctantly peels away. Lipstick residue feels heavy on his mouth, and he knows he probably looks foolish donning remnants of your dark lip lacquer, but he doesn’t move to wipe his skin. The circular bottom of the wine glass clinks as you clumsily set it down, freeing your hands. They branch upwards, finding his face. A pair of thumbs rub the sensitive pads of flesh beneath his eyes, massaging out those ugly, darkened bags that have accumulated as a result of many sleepless nights. It feels orgasmic, the way you handle him.

“I trust you.” The words are out in the air before he has time to think.

You brighten, sunshine hiding in the crevices of your smile. “You mean that?” You ask him, hands petting down the sides of his neck.

He meant it wholeheartedly. The amount of trust left within Toji was scarce. Too many bad people fucked him for life; showed him the meaning of the phrase ‘trust is earned.’ So it really fucking freaked him out how quickly you came to earn it. A little over a year-–that’s how long he’s known you—you’ve have plenty of time to fuck him over. To batter him. And yet, you haven’t. All you’ve ever shown him was kindness and consideration and warmth and everything else Toji never knew how bad he was thirsty for.

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“I trust you, too, Toji.”

He wonders if he deserves that. Because really, what has given you besides his annoyingly closed-off dickhead attitude? He provides fuck all, but you still stick around.

Toji doesn’t say anything. He swoops once more, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss than before. All the playful innocence is tossed aside, forgotten in lieu of Toji’s devastatingly furious need to consume you. Tongues finally greet each other in a spittle-slicked tango; he dominates yours with ease, worming behind your teeth just to collect your sweet flavor. Wine, he thinks. You taste like your goddamn expensive ass wine.

He feels feverish. One-track minded, hyper fixated on you. On your crossed legs underneath the table. “Fuck,” Toji breathes into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.

Your hand clashes against the hard wall of his chest, patting it softly. A wordless signal that you need some air, so he retracts. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

The plea goes in one ear and falls right out the other. Toji leeches against your neck, dragging the flat of his wet tongue over that little throbbing pulse point. His teeth grate against your flawless skin, completely none the wiser that you’re even talking to him. You thwack the back of his head, and he lurches into the crook of your shoulder, muffling a groan.

“No marks, I’ve got work.”

His eyes roll, face still burrowed against you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your job right now.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.” “Gimme a sec.” He’s still licking below your jaw, making his way down. This stupidly lavish house had been cursed with three levels, your bedroom holed up at the very top floor. Like hell Toji was going to part ways with your glorious body so you two could safely make it up the two ridiculous staircases. Fuck that.

“Toji, I’m… serious…” Your raucous pants of anticipation suggest otherwise. Toji has sunken to his knees, crawling beneath the table and finding a home on the floor before your seat. His kneecaps scream in discomfort as they pin heavily to the wooden floorboards, but Toji bears the pain well ( he’d always been somewhat of a masochist ). Your legs are still crossed, one knee hinging over the other.

“Open these.” Two calloused hands cuff around the thinnest parts of either ankle. Your legs were conspicuously smooth; did you shave for him? There is an attempt at delicacy when Toji pries your legs apart, and it makes you giggle.

“Here?” You laugh more. Toji suspects you’re patronizing him in a way. “I haven’t even cleared the table. Are you really so impatient?”

And here Toji thought he exercised his patience well. He didn’t jump your bones the second of his arrival. No, he waited like a good boy until after dinner. “I’ve waited for this the whole week.” Restless hands walk up those porcelain calves, strong and lean from working in high heels. They wander up, hooking beneath the junctures of your knees; Toji uses his celestial strength to his advantage, maneuvering both legs with ease until he’s got them resting comfortably over his broad shoulders. Toji turns, cocks his head to give a serpentine lick to the inside of your thigh. Then a bite. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll fucking die.”

You peer down at him. “Don’t talk like that.” You feel yourself. Small hands groping your chest, sliding lower and lower. “You’re not going to die.”

His mouth feels sticky, like there’s a spoonful of honey under his tongue. “I might.”

Your heel drives into his upper back, an impish little warning that makes him throb all over. “Don’t talk like that, I said.” Those manicured hands have garnered Toji’s full attention. They descend all the way to the hem of your luxurious dress, wrenching into its hem. It’s the sexiest sight Toji had ever seen: you pulling your dress up with the quickness of a sloth, inching the fabric up until it scrunches around the dip of your waistline.

“These are hot,” he murmurs, thumbing the waistband of the scarlet panties. They were tight, sinking into the ample pudge of your hips and soft tummy. So fucking beautiful, he thinks, the contrast between deep red lace and the flesh of which it lays upon. The perfect, little present gift wrapped in a low-rise lace thong. “Bet they cost a pretty penny.”

You spare a breathy exhale through your nostrils. “I don’t look at price tags when I buy things for you.”

You bought these just for him? “You spoil me.”

“You deserve to get spoiled, baby.”

He is so mind numbingly turned on. Sickening tendrils of appetence bleed into his vision, his lust coils around his limbs and guide his movements like a marionette. Toji thumbs your—his—panties to the side, soaking in the sight of that pretty pussy he’s longed to be back inside of since the moment he pulled out. His face is close, so fucking close that he can feel warmth radiate off your core and deepen his flush.

Perhaps this is how he begins his journey of repayment. Ever indebted to you, despite your odd relationship being a mutually agreed upon situation, Toji fears you’ve truly altered him. For the better or worse he isn’t sure yet; all he knows is that you make him feel good. Better than he’s felt in fucking ages. You said he deserves to get spoiled? Well so do you, too.

Toji eats you with erotic vigor, delving into the deepest parts of your cunt with his lascivious tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t possess many skills. He isn’t terribly smart, nor is he gifted with great conversational skills like you. He isn't good at holding a real job. Isn’t very good at expressing himself. Not good at abiding by the law, or staying sober, either. But if ever there was an artistry in which Toji had full confidence he had mastered, it was oral sex.

“Oh, Toji,” you gasped, forcing his face deeper with a hand on the back of his skull. “Right there.”

Toji dug you out, excavating your hole with expertise. One hand slipped up beneath your dress, under your bra, pawing at your breast whilst the other busied itself in his pants. He stroked himself to the heady taste of pussy, fanning your clit with hot puffs of breath. You writhe against his open mouth, hips dancing, hands grabbing.

It’s more enjoyable like this, Toji thinks briefly. To not expect a wad of bills afterward in exchange for his velvet tongue. He eats you for leisure, because he wants to, and because you want him, and no other reason. It’s enough that you both need each other.

Toji groans loosely when you yank his hair, getting off on the way you move his head to your liking. “Suck my clit,” you instruct quietly, and he obliges with upmost obedience, nose nuzzling against the tuft of hair at your pubic bone.

Toji opens his eyes for the first time in a while, then thanks God he did. You look something like a goddess, celestial and righteous in the way your body works against his face. Using him to cure an insatiable desperation, with your lids screwed shut and head tossed back on your shoulders. “Are you gonna cum?” He sits up on his haunches a little taller, a little more alert now to fully experience your orgasm. “Cum in my mouth.”

He begs for it. Begs like a little bitch. Over and over again, mumbling the mantra between rough suctions to your swollen clit. Begging wasn’t like him. His father beat the beggar out of him many years ago, said it was weak to yearn for things so badly. The old man was right, Toji has never felt weaker than he does right now, knelt under the table with his head between your thighs.

“Oh my God.” Your voice is strained thin, each syllable pulled taught. The vice grip on his roots start to sting, follicles ripping from the scalp, but doesn’t tell you to stop. “Toji, fuck you’re so good.”

He’s good.

“You’re so good.”

“Mmn.” He squeezes himself, chokes his dick hard. Toji feels it when you cum. Warmth floods the cavern of his slack mouth, gushing and creamy. You fall silent, stunned by the force of your orgasm he presumes. Toji licks you through your high, guzzling down every drop of wetness that seeps from your spasming slit. It’s hot and gushy and messy; cum dribbles past his lips, collecting in beads that roll down his tensing neck.

Only when you blindly push at his face does Toji part ways with your center, leaning past your trembling hand to nuzzle into your stomach. It’s concave with an ongoing exhale; he nips at your navel. “Breathe.”

“Toji,” you whisper. On the come down, you’re a lot nicer; those needy, grabbing hands of yours now stroked down the tangled mess of his damp shag. He presses a handful of sloppy smooches above your belly button.

The erection trapped in the confines of his pants twitch at the dreadfully angelic drawl of his name. “Good?” His question is gruff and pointless as ever; anyone with eyes could tell you just had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life.

Your head lolls forward, rolling down to face him. Fingertips brush his chin, collecting the sticky residuals that dampened his stubble. You take your lower lip in between teeth when you bring those same soaked digits to Toji’s open mouth. He doesn’t resist you. Fingers are welcomed; he unhinges his jaw, baring the same holy tongue that just drove you to Heaven. You wipe cum-ridden fingers against the muscle, and Toji clamps around them in a vacuum-esque suction, looking up at you through dark lashes all the while. Your thumb traces the raised flesh on his upper lip. That ugly, jagged scar.

He catches your wrist when you move to flee his mouth, holding you in place. Sucking on you, touching himself along the way. Lapping between fingers, tonguing the thin web of skin there.

“So good, baby boy.” There’s the praise he craved, the praise he played oblivious to get. You claw deeper, jutting towards the back of his throat, pulling a scratchy gag from the man. What kind of fetish was this? You made everything sexy, even whatever this humiliation ritual was; watching him choke down slippery fingers with fat tears bleeding at his waterline. “You are so beautiful, Toji.”

“—oh en nah,” or no I’m not had there not been a barrier blocking his teeth from touching. Toji knows he’s an aged man, one riddled with scars and wounds and bruises and gauges and what have you. His skin is nowhere near perfect, baring disgusting reminders of what he does—who he is. Beautiful is what he’d call someone like you. Someone calm and serene, humble and kind. You’re a beautiful sight, and you’re also the complete and utter opposite of him.

“You are.” He wanted to be inside you for this. Toji had been daydreaming this scenario over and out in his head over the long haul of the week, going through the motions of his plan to fuck you. He’d give you everything tenfold, a barbaric fucking unlike your first time together. He imagined finally showing you his version of things, bending you over the couch first thing and blowing his load deep into your cunt.

Toji choked again, and a single thick tear fell from his lashes. You whispered sweet prayers, holding his face, wiping his eyes, fucking his mouth with fingers that tasted of your cum. It was a damn mystery how you rendered him so fucking pitiful, to be nutting on his knees into his boxers like this. A damn mystery.

His breaths are ragged when he explodes, hand and cock obscured by the sweatpants that sat low around his hips. Toji doesn’t stop pumping, tugging the shaft with long, hard strokes, wringing himself dry. Dark eyes weld shut, and he collapses against your thigh with a quake of exhaustion. Toji doesn’t know when you withdrew your fingers; the only tell that gave it away was the string of saliva that slapped coldly against his chin in the wake of your removal. He mewls, a graveling sound that sounds as if his voice box had been dragged through a sea of razor blades.

“You alright?”

A flowery hand slithers beneath his damp cheek, and suddenly his heavy head is being lifted. Toji is forced to meet your soft gaze; adoration brims in your eyes, as though you’re proud of him for creaming in his briefs like some flimsy virgin.

“Answer me, please.”

Toji smacks his mouth, preparing for his voice to project broken and fragmented. “I’m fine.” He could do without the pity; you were cautious to a fault. He wasn’t made of glass.

“You’re filthy.”

He grumbles, feigning grumpiness and averting his eyes off to the side. “I just had your pussy in my mouth.”

You bend at the waist, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. Toji melts against you, cradling your face with his semen-stained hand. You don’t seem to mind the wetness. He’s pouting against your mouth, childlike. “I wanted to cum inside you.”

You latch onto his nose, nibbling the point. “Let’s go clean up.” There’s a telling smile etched onto your lips, and your mouth finds his ear. Whispering ever so sensually, “I have a big shower in my bedroom.”

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