Work Text:
The last little beam of goldening sunlight fills the room as the sun sets. The movie—which you’ve long since stopped paying attention to—has turned to credits. Toji lays with his head in your lap, hands folded on his chest. The scarred corner of his mouth twitches as you card your fingers through his hair.
He’s not sure why he keeps coming back. But he keeps doing so. Toji doesn't quite know how to put it in words. It's not love—or so he’d say—because there's only two things he loves in life; gambling, and killing. If there was a third, it would be you, so you take this with a grain of salt. He looks forward to coming around, even if he groans and complains when you call him over. He sees something in you, even if he can't put it into words. In the beginning you were just a quick fling. A warm mouth, and a wet cunt. Sometimes you’d cook too. Which was nice. He’d kill someone just for the gyoza you make.
When he fell for you, he fell hard.
It was obvious to seemingly everyone but him. His gaze lingered a little longer than normal, he found his thoughts turning to you more often, he’d mention you even without provocation. He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes spending time with you. You know that, even if it would be nice to have him say it. The man is a mess, there’s only so much shit you can give him for it.
You let out a squeak as he hauls you into his arms, letting your body hover just over his chest. His gaze drifts down your figure, studying every dip and curve of your barely-clothed body.
“Stop! Wait!” You playfully claw at his chest, but there's some sense of urgency behind it. “I'm too heavy!”
He notices you trying to scramble away and sits up, pulling you into his lap. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands; they ghost up your sides, coming to rest on your hips.
“What do you mean you’re too heavy?” He asks. “ Sweetheart , I could lift you with one arm.”
He’s not lying. He can—and has—thrown you around. There's nothing he loves more than seeing the way your tits and ass jiggle as he fucks into you. Not to mention the way his cock twitches when he feels the squish of your thighs. The handprints he leaves on your ass always make him hard. You’re so many things to him: strong, sturdy, beautiful.
He’s not the best with words, but it’s oddly comforting. Being open with his affection is a foreign feeling to him. Love in a traditional sense is a bit new to him. Toji deserves more credit than he’s given.
He tilts your chin up, your gaze meeting his. There’s a look in his eyes that you can't quite read.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks.
You don't.
You shake your head.
His fingers ghost across your skin; there but barely. You’d be lying if you said you hadn't tried to recreate the way he touches you; the way his long, skilled fingers make you writhe. Every past lover of yours pales in comparison to him. Your hands don't feel the same. It almost makes up for his fleeting nature. Almost .
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, the scarred side of his mouth twitching. His calloused hands cup your face. The warmth of his skin is inviting, and makes you lean in even closer. You feel yourself slowly giving in to him.
He leans back. You wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the evil sounding chuckle that leaves him. He watches as your eyes widen. Your brows knit in frustration.
“You stopped breathing there,” he says, “did you want me to kiss you?”
“No teasing,” you say, your voice weak.
Toji presses a quick peck to your forehead. Then your nose. Then the curve of your jaw.
“It’s my job to tease you,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze, “I like watching you writhe .”
Toji smooths a hand over your hair, brushing it back from your eyes. The gentle touch makes goosebumps raise along your shoulders. You visibly sulk when he pulls his hand away.
“ Please ,” you say.
The kiss he pulls you into is rough and needy. Toji nibbles at your bottom lip until you allow his tongue to explore the wet cavern of your mouth. He tastes faintly of alcohol. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. They wander up your sides, kneading the soft flesh of your hips and breasts, tugging your skirt up your hips to reveal your already wet pussy.
When he pulls away, an audible smack echoes through the room.
One of his hands slips between your legs, his large, calloused fingers tracing circles around your clit. You practically melt against his touch. You fit so perfectly against him, your chest pressed against his, your knees planted on either side of his thighs. Each moan and gasp that threatens to spill past your lips, choked by his tongue, spurs him on further. Your face buries in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. He doesn't smell like much of anything; laundry soap and shampoo he stole from you.
You whine as he pulls his hand away, aching for his touch. So close yet so far from your own release. He offers his hand to you. Obediently, you take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits.
“Strip.” He orders. You comply.
Your—his—shirt comes off first. Slowly you pull it over your head, tossing it aside. The corner of his lip twitches when he realizes you have no bra on underneath. His hands come up to palm at your breasts, gently tugging and pinching at the sensitive flesh of your nipples. Calloused hands squeeze eagerly at them, admiring their roundness.
Next goes your skirt. Momentarily you have to shift off his lap to slide it down your legs. One of his hands gropes appreciatively at your ass. He lands a quick slap, admiring the way your ass jiggles, chuckling at the soft gasp that leaves you. It stings, but you wouldn't consider it painful. His hand smooths over the red mark he’s left.
"Look at you," he says, "my good girl.” His laugh comes from low in his chest. The heat that rises to your face is undeniable. Out of embarrassment your hands raise to cover your face. Instinctively your arms cross over your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen you like this before.
“Don't hide yourself,” he gently tugs your arms down, admiring the way the moonlight reflects off your skin, “I want to see you.”
You straddle his thigh. The way you grind down against him is far from subtle. He notices the way your face contorts with need- and the small wet patch your cunt leaves on his thigh.
He’s ready to show his affections with his tongue. Rather unceremoniously he lays back, guiding your hips to settle over his chest. His dark hair pools around his head.
“Be a good girl and ride my face,” he says.
There's no hiding the way you blush. From chest to forehead you’re bright red. Even the tips of your ears take on a pink color. His hands trail down your sides, squeezing your ass and hips. You settle over his face, thighs on either side of his head. The warmth of your skin spreads to him.
His tongue dips in your folds, swirling around your clit. He presses kitten licks to your clit. Toji’s touches are always achingly close to where you need them, but not quite. His touch is fleeting in nature; just like him. Your fingers bury in his hair, guiding him to where you want him most.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t tease!” You whine.
His grip on your thighs tightens, pulling you down against his face. Your needy clit is lavished with affections from a hot tongue. His skilled tongue traces circles around your clit, gently sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud. Aside from your own moans are the sounds of a man very content with what he’s doing. He could die happy with his head between your thighs.
You grind down against his face, content to chase your own release. Heat pools low in your stomach, building with each skilled flick of his tongue. You’re reduced to a moaning, babbling mess, crying out his name like it’s a prayer.
The knot in your stomach snaps.
Toji lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, holding your hips down. It takes a moment for the overstimulation to register in your lust-addled mind. His tongue still works eager circles around your clit, seemingly unaware of your writhing form. The lower half of Toji’s face glints in the dim light. His hair is a mess, sticking out in all sorts of directions from your desperate grip. A sleepy, mischievous grin spreads across his face. It's not often you see him so relaxed.
Your post-orgasm haze leaves you sensitive, and shaky. His hands run over your flushed skin, his eyes hungrily taking in your form. Though he’s not the most verbal with his affections, his eyes can’t hide what goes on in his head. He takes you in all at once, yet piece by piece too. His eyes say what his mouth won't.
“Did you think you could get away that easily?” He asks.
You swallow hard.
He guides you to sit in his lap. You straddle one of his large thighs, palming his growing erection. With the change of position, his bulge grinds right against your leg. Toji’s eyes darken in warning. He lifts his hips just enough to shove his pants down. His cock springs free from his boxers, the tip glistening with precum. It's built like the rest of him, long and thick, the hairs towards the base are dark and a bit unruly. The head takes on an angry red color. His size is a bit intimidating, but he always makes sure you’re prepared enough to take him.
You lower yourself onto him slowly. You fit around him like a glove; the warm, velvety walls of your cunt clenching around him. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, though you show none.
“You can take more than that, can't you?” He asks.
You nod.
He still gives you a moment to get used to his size. His hands find your hips, giving them a tender squeeze. Your arms wrap around his neck, your breath hot against his skin. The intimacy of the situation doesn't go over his head. He leans to nip at your earlobe, cooing in your ear how good you’re doing, how well you fit around him. Toji trails wet, open mouth kisses down your neck. The gasps and moans that leave you as you shift to get more comfortable makes his cock twitch.
“My good girl,” he coos, “taking all of me like this.”
He guides your hips as you bounce on his cock, his nails digging into your plush thighs. Toji can't pry his eyes away from the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. Greedy, calloused hands palm at your breasts, working your nipples into stiff peaks. Sweat beads in his hairline. You don't think you’ve ever seen him so focused.
One of his hands moves down to toy with your clit, working circles against the bundle of nerves. He notices how your breath hitches, how your lips have been bitten pink, how your pupils have shrunk down to pinpricks. You don't.
His hands find your hips, momentarily lifting you off his lap, laying you down on your back. He fucks into you with rough, unforgiving thrusts. His pace is brutal.
Toji grunts as your nails rake across his back, leaving angry red marks. His lips latch onto the fleshy part of your neck, sucking and nipping in a way that makes you whimper. A collar of dark marks nearly circles your neck. It brings him an odd joy seeing you marked up in such a way. People know you’re his.
There’s not one specific thing that sends you over the edge, but a mixture of everything. From the way his skilled fingers toy with your clit to the way his cock leaves none of your sweet spots unstroked.
Your legs clamp around his waist as you cum, crying out his name. With the way you clench around him, pulling him back in, he isn't far behind.
His thrusts grow sloppier as he nears his own release. Toji’s praise turns to broken sentence fragments about how good you’re doing, and how beautiful your body is underneath him. For just this moment his stoic nature fails, and he lets his affections pour fourth.
“You’re gonna take all of it.” He says. “You’re gonna take all of my cum.”
And you do.
Hot, thick ropes of his cum spill into your unprotected womb, spilling out and running down your thighs in streams. To stifle his grunt, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. A small, pained whimper escapes you.
As he pulls out, he’s hit with a pang of regret for not using a condom. Aside from the mess, he doesn't want to knock you up. That doesn't stop him from shamelessly leaning back and admiring the mess he’s made. Any bit of worry he has is quickly forgotten.The sight of your fucked-out form leaking his cum lights a whole new need within him.
He pulls you to lay on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to him. Your bed would probably be more comfortable, but he doesn't want to risk moving you. A sleepy, content smile spreads across your face. His quiet heartbeat acts as a lullaby. You find yourself nuzzling into his chest,
“You better stop that, sweetheart ,” he says, “unless you want a round two.”