𓈒𓏸 synopsis: a disgrace born without cursed energy becomes the other zenin disgrace's servant, and is seen, known, and loved.
𓈒𓏸 tags: MDNI!!, 18+, non-canon compliant, zenin!toji, servant!reader, porn w so much plot, childhood ??s to lovers, heavy mentions/themes of misogyny, toji and reader r lonely, reader is kinda submissive most of the time, toji cries, use of titles (master), use of pet-names, a couple mentions of y/n, so much kissing, romantic ahh smut, toji is a lover, size kink if u close one eye, smut warnings under the tag!!
𓈒𓏸 authors note: ok so idk why this took me so damn long to write but i did it!!! started this in early feb when i took that poll and then literally couldn't finish it until today, soooo yay! i hope u guys enjoy, this is definitely my most plot heavy fic (which isn't really saying much, i just struggle writing plot sometimes), so i hope u guys enjoy. ugh i love toji so much i feel ridiculous. also didn't know how to end this so ig it's open ended. maybe i do a part 2?? idk what about but if y'all want one i'll do one! anywho enjoy and as always please tell me your thoughts :))
𓈒𓏸 word count: 10.4k
𓈒𓏸 tag list: @stoopah
smut warnings: so much kissing, nipple play, fingering, good ol'fashioned romantic missionary, big fat dick!toji, creampie (obvi lmfao), idk the smut is very plot oriented!
The day you were born, it stormed. The end of December, yet it was only the rain that shook the building–instead of the blizzard that the elders had predicted. You often wondered if that was where your cursed energy had gone in the end. If it had unetched itself from your soul in hopes of curling around tree leaves. Perhaps, it’d flown out between your lips as you wailed, gasping for air for the first time, desperate to escape your lungs, fleeing the chimneys and manipulating the wind so it howled alongside your mother as she writhed in pain. Cursing you. Cursing your father. Cursing the wind.
It was over before you’d taken a second breath. Future decided. A disgrace, devoid of cursed energy. Spat on as you grew. Mocked, manhandled, and so desperately alone, that you never caught the whispers of another Zenin. Another disgrace. Born that same night. Toji.
Your mother spoke little to you–Your father even less so. God, you wondered what another life would’ve felt like. Born raw in another clan, would they have forgiven you for the burden of living without cursed energy? Or outcasted you just as harshly? If you were born a boy, what would that have changed? Anything?
You were only ten years old the first time you met Toji. Your answer. He was young, you thought he could’ve been around your age: Dark hair and pointy features that he just couldn’t manage to grow into. An angular stare that seemed pasted over what should’ve been a youthful face. Skin rough, as if his cheeks had been dragged against the concrete and dirt that you knew so well, jaw tense and set, waiting to devour the wrong person who looked at him like the stain he’d been taught he was.
You’d found him sitting silent in a dying garden filled with wilting roses and thorns that hid behind brittle petals. You peaked around the stone wall after hearing quiet muttering and the cold thunk of pebble on stone as he tossed pieces of gravel at the wall. And there he was. Toji’s head shot up, that vicious glare striking across your face like a slap.
“Who are you?” Toji mumbled, wiping the sleeve of his kimono across his snotty nose. He eyed your fingers as they gripped the corner of the wall, knuckles white. Watched as your nervous quiet pounded in his ears. Your eyes widened, gasping like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Toji rolled his eyes, looking down at the stone he held between his fingers, but he didn’t pry.
You were probably just some stupid girl who’d heard the stories: A male Zenin born without cursed energy. The freak no one allowed near their children. He’d have expected as much if he hadn’t glanced up to see you still standing there, head tilted sweetly as you watched him think.
“Cat got your tongue?” Toji murmured softly, eyes half-lidded and tired.
You pulled back an inch, “I– What?”
Toji shook his hair out of his eyes. “You just gonna stand there?”
“Sorry… I just…” You bit the inside of your cheek, fingers wrapping around your forearm nervously as you trailed off. “Just never seen you before…”
Toji’s fierce eyebrows pushed low, his lips scrunching to one side. “Never seen me– Huh?”
“Mmhmm. Who are you? Wh-What’s your name?”
“... Toji.” He said it short, slurring the ‘j’ and letting his tongue trip over it. You watched his fingers curl into the dull fabric of his haori.
“Y/N–” The gravel crunched underneath your feet for just a moment before you were yanked back against an adult’s chest.
“What are you doing near him? Stupid child.”
Toji looked down at your feet as you stumbled backwards and let yourself be dragged away, refusing to watch your face contort and cannibalize itself when you realized who he was–Although, you never did let your expression warp; you were a disgraceful freak, just as Toji was.
They’d told you under their breath who Toji was as you were pushed forward by the nape of your neck. Stumbling into the cursed pit blindly, now knowing you were not the first to be cut by spirits you couldn’t see. Knowing the blood you saw on the ground belonged to a brooding boy that threw pebbles at walls in a garden that wanted to cut him too: Toji.
–
By age thirteen, you were made a servant in one of the Zenin households, governed by muted fingers pointing in one direction or the other, refusing to speak to a lowly servant with not an ounce of cursed energy to prove. The elders pushed sweaty feet in your face, gazing just above your head, waiting for you to wrap their tired arches. To tie the strings of their waraji sandals.
On dark evenings, when the light was low, you’d catch the rich children peeking at you from behind curtains, pointing at the scars you’d racked up over the years. Their snickers would drift through walls, weighing you down. You knew better than to look for their cold eyes that seemed to glow behind their decadent smiles. Knew better than to speak up for yourself. To declare your worth, despite the parts of you that had no merit. And you’d find your bed just a little bit earlier, curling up underneath a thin blanket, and willing yourself to just… sleep. Not dream. Just black out until it began again.
Although, each day would simply bring a new nightmare to life. On one of the early days, your mother had sneered at your defiled face as you were let out of the clutches of the spirits in that damned pit. The elders never allowed the curses to do more than bruise–usually–but, you’d dared to speak back to a higher up that morning when you brought him his breakfast. And now your nose bled, your ankle barely held your weight, and a gash hung parallel to your hairline that you knew no one would care to stitch back together. You’d winced when your mother gripped your chin between her fingers, tilting your head so you were caught right inside her fiercely bitter glare. She’d whispered, voice breaking, “You will keep that maw shut, lest you want more scars. More reasons for a man to discard you like the trash you are. To be quiet is to be a shield that you make.” She’d swallowed, letting go of your chin roughly, and turning away. “Do this family this one favor: Make it so our only curse is a silent disgrace, instead of a servant with a mouth on her, and nothing to show for it.”
If you had wanted to respond, you didn’t. You stood there in the dark, barely breathing. Promising yourself you’d be just that: A silent disgrace. Grasping at the thought of easing the burden of your own self for your mother. And from then on, you were quiet. Stepped softly. Knocked with your fingertips, and slid wooden trays onto tables as if infinity lived between the two surfaces.
And that was how you made yourself known the next time you saw Toji. Your newest job now that Naobito’s disgraced nephew was thirteen: Bringing his midday meal. Gently touching the sliding door to announce your entry into his quarters, before squeezing through the tiny gap Toji’d left for you to enter through.
“What?” He’d muttered, turning his back to you as soon as you’d entered. Figures. It wasn’t as if anyone in this damned clan didn’t make a conceited effort to not meet your eyes..
The tray of food steamed in your hands, aroma melting into the tatami mats and circling Toji.
“Where would you like your meal, Master Toji.” You asked softly, gazing at his heels as they slowed to a stop.
Toji scoffed, “M’not your master.”
You didn’t respond. Because this was your answer. Had you been born a boy, you’d have outranked someone. You’d have been allowed an attitude. Given the chance to feel disdain and show it in your eyes. Your fingertips squeaked against the clean wooden tray, body filling with a frozen ice fire of fear the longer you let the silence linger.
Toji sighed, still facing away because every other pair of eyes squinted in resentment when they drifted over his frame, shoulders dropped and back round from years of carrying a clan’s worth of shame and guilt on young bones; he wouldn’t watch another gaze scrutinize him if he could help it. He was just barely a teenager, but Toji had spent enough time in the cursed pit to make him feel older. The scars across his torso certainly aged him, but it was only him and his cracked mirror that knew where each line lay. Only him and his skin that pulled taut around the soft pink scar tissue that remembered each cut, and from what part of that god forsaken dungeon the pain had come from.
The only scar the rest of the world got to see was the very first one that ever bled. The only scar Toji had ever allowed tears to spill over. At one point, never giving the tightness of his skin around his lips any thought, until suddenly he was. Until suddenly a fearsome line of angry pain had ripped right through the corner of his mouth, and then it was all he could think about. Skin split. Breeze between flesh that hadn’t been there before. How could he never have realized before what it felt like to be untouched? Toji’s hands had shaken desperately as he touched the vicious split, panic filling his body when his fingertips had come back covered in inhumanly bright red blood. That was the day he left his hope in the claws of a curse that for all intents and purposes, didn’t even exist. But, the searing pain that reached far beyond the edges of the tear was proof enough that Toji was an enemy to the rest of the only world he knew, and he left that dark hell hole with a bubbling gurgle of resentment that burned hot beneath his ribs.
Two silent disgraces in a room, and only the subtle whisper of steam from a quickly cooling bowl of miso filled the lingering quiet.
Toji broke it first, loosely gesturing to a table to his left. It was littered with rags that had been unstained a long time ago, but were now tinted an unmistakable pink from years of cleaning his own wounds. The rags lay haphazardly over lazily stacked papers, some filled halfway with messy scribbles. Feelings he’d try to put into words, then give up and pretend he never wrote anything at all. Channeling his anger into his pen as he pressed down onto the pages and blacked it all out. “Whatever. Jus’... Leave it there.”
You exhaled an inch of breath, nodding once as you padded across the floor. The tray slipped against the table with a croak, the edge of it pushing the rags over. The bowl of miso jolted as the tray collided with the dense pile of rags, and you choked back a gasp as the broth splashed out and rained onto the papers strewn around the table.
You stepped towards the table, quickly reaching for one of the stained cloths. Your fingers had barely closed around the rag when Toji’s hand wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand suspended in mid air.
“S’just paper.” Even this young, Toji's voice was gravelly, raspy. “Leave it.”
You looked up at Toji now, and he gazed down at you. You floated along the lines of his face that he was finally starting to grow into: Still too angular and angry for a boy his age, but his simmering green eyes didn’t look out of place anymore. No, they fit underneath his furrowed brow well. All Toji had needed was to let the anger push his frown until it was permanent. You wondered if that piercing stare of his was like an omen. Wondered if the universe gave him those eyes as a prophecy. Forcing anger and pain on him like a promise. Wondered if that look meant he was born to suffer. Or if–in another life–he’d have been born into another clan, with the same eyes… Without the pressure of being a Zenin, or the fear of curses he couldn’t see. Maybe Toji would’ve been given a life where his biggest problem was folks thinking he was angry when he wasn’t. A life where the scar on his lip came from tumbling off of monkey bars. Rambunctious until he was crying as his mother gently dabbed at the cut, shushing him sweetly.
You didn’t frown as you looked at him. Only observed the line on the corner of his lips, and knew–without having to ask–exactly what had happened. Recognized the way Toji’s lips parted when he followed your gaze to the scar.
Toji pulled the cloth from your hand, and let your wrist go, flexing his hand anxiously, and pressing his lips into a flat line. “Cursed spirit from the pit.”
You nodded softly, lips apart and eyes wide. What could you say? He’d looked away the moment he dropped your wrist, and now stood tense–like a statue–with his hand gripping the back of a chair.
“You… Can go.” Toji swallowed thickly, and gestured towards the door.
“Is there anything else you need, Master Toji–”
“No.”
“Understood. If you need anything–”
“And I’m not your master.” Toji sneered at the title, still not bothering to glance your way.
You left as quietly as you’d entered, head bowed as you replayed the way the sunlight had filtered through the open window, spilling across Toji’s skin. He didn’t hear your footsteps, but he heard the sliding door lightly tap shut, and only then did he take a deep breath. You were familiar, only a hint of the you from three years prior left: The way you’d gazed at him and looked. Just looked. A faint memory of a child peeking around a corner before being dragged away plagued his thoughts that evening: You.
–
The rest of the world grew around the two of you, and in turn, so did the two silent disgraces of the Zenin clan. Your silence became unquestionable. Instinctive. So much so, that the elders had to reach for justifications when little things set them off. Like a glance in the wrong direction. A step too close. A smile just a moment late. But, you didn’t spill miso anymore. You cleared tables before placing trays down, and took your shoes off before sweeping. You planned ahead.
Toji planned ahead too. Waking at dawn and disappearing to the training yard, only coming back for his lunch, just in time to see you. He pretended not to care when you were late. Pretended not to care when he was late. When he rushed in, only to see his tray of food already sitting on that same table as the first time you’d brought him lunch. On those days, Toji would exhale slowly as he sat, picking at rice with his chopsticks. He’d close his eyes, swearing the scent of your perfume still wafted in the steam. Maybe it did. Maybe he imagined you. But, you’d always be there the next day: An apparition floating across his room right in front of his eyes.
You still called him ‘Master,’ much to Toji’s chagrin, and a year after that first lunch, you’d knocked on the sliding door later and louder than usual.
He opened the door, looking down at you softly. “Y’alright?”
“M’sorry, Master Toji,” You’d scurried to place the tray on the table, tripping over your feet as you neared the surface, and subsequently falling to the floor. Scrambling to your knees, you sniffed back tears, pinching grains of rice from the ground, and choked back the fear and panic that always lingered but a step away from you.
Toji watched from the doorway, quietly closing the sliding door. You didn’t notice him walk over until he was standing over you, towering like a giant. He was seventeen now, and big. God, and he scared you.
“Shi– I– I’m sorry, Master Toji.” You stopped short of an expletive, the freezing panic filling your head like cement.
Toji squatted, shaking his head with a tired stare, “I told you: M’not your master.”
You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You tried to will your hands to stop their incessant trembling as you poked and picked at a stubborn piece of rice. “Shi– I mean, m’sorry, Master Toji… I–”
Toji’s hands were big–like him–and wrapped around your wrists firmly. “Stop.”
Your eyes shot up, finally meeting his eyes. The whites of your eyes were red from crying, dried blood crusting against your browbone. You watched as Toji’s eyes shot from place to place. It wasn’t just your eyes, or the rusty blood on your brow: It was the swollen gash across your hairline that dripped bright red.
“What the hell happened?” Toji left one of your wrists in your lap in favor of gently lifting your chin, turning your face one way, then the other.
You pulled back, looking down and dabbing at the harsh cut with your sleeve. “Nothing. It’s okay.”
“Bullshit. Don’t dirty yer’ sleeve.” Toji pulled your hand away, and grabbed a cloth, dipping it into a cup of water he’d left on the table. “Let me see.”
He didn’t let you agree, just gently grasped your wrists again, and leaned in to begin cleaning the area. “Tell me what happened.”
“I–Ow! I told you, Master Toji.”
“I’m not stupid,” Toji muttered, tilting his head just an inch, and brushing a piece of hair back to get a better look at the wound. “Just…Did someone do this to you?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, inhaling sharply as the wet cloth brushed against the reddened skin. “Not someone.”
Toji stilled, catching your gaze. “Spit it out.”
You’d spent your whole life trying to keep your lack of cursed energy from people. Although it was impossible when others could simply look at you and know what you didn’t have, you’d been successful keeping it from one person: Toji. Because, yes, he was a ‘disgrace’ like you. And, yes, you were lonely. But, it was nice to know that one person didn’t see you the way every other Zenin did. Because, Toji didn’t see you as a disgrace: He saw you as the exception compared to the rest of the world. A Zenin who didn’t look down on him. The only one.
“A curse.” You mumbled, trying desperately to quiet the building anxiety that had begun to bubble in your throat once more. “Tripped over Master Ogi’s feet when I dropped his lunch off, and he threw me into… into the pit.”
“...You?” Toji’s brows furrowed, and he sat back on his heels. “Huh. Well I’ll be damned. Another disgrace.”
The word hurt, but you knew he didn’t mean it to.
“Didn’t have time t-to clean myself up.”
He shook his head with a smirk, shaggy black hair falling just above his long eyelashes. “Nah. S’okay. Ya look badass.”
You pinched your lips together, looking down as an embarrassed blush fluttered across your cheeks.
“Can I help ya clean up?” Toji’s eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, and as you held his stare, you wondered if they’d ever looked like that.
You nodded, letting him hold your face as he wiped the blood away. Toji looked younger when he focused: His tongue poking between his teeth as he avoided the worst of the wound for your sake, scrunching his lips to one side as he wiped the dried blood from your brow. His eyes were wide and unwittingly innocent as he gently caressed your swollen skin. Even when you were rid of the blood, Toji held your face in his calloused hand as if letting go meant your confession would be null. That when he lost contact, you’d suddenly gain all the cursed energy you’d gone without your entire life. But, then his eyes met yours, and you closed your fingers against his wrist softly.
“Thank you.” You whispered, swallowing as you watched his rationale catch up, and felt him pull away sharply.
“Get outta here.” Toji said, lightheartedly, but there was a tremor to his words. “I’ll clean the rice.”
“I’ll bring you another serving–”
“No.” He said, shortly. “I… I need to be alone.”
So you left him alone, and never mentioned the shaking breath you heard from the hall once the sliding door had closed. Not the next day, not the one after that.
–
Sometime after both of you turned nineteen, one of your morning strolls took you to the training yard. You avoided the area–usually–but, the sunrise had taken you, the corals and pinks swirling in your eyes like a hypnotist’s pocket watch. The footsteps that pattered in the gravel of the yard stopped you in your tracks, and you glanced past the railing of the overpass.
The training yard was all grey and stone, cold and unfeeling. But, the sunrise poked its light over the roofs like a demure wife, shedding a kaleidoscope of dawn across Toji. You inhaled sharply, gaze following his frame as his bare muscles flexed and tightened with each hit. He was quiet, the only hint of him being his inhumanly fast footsteps. God, when had he gotten so fast?
You leaned against the wooden bannister, watching as his wild black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Watching as his breathless pants pushed his sculpted chest up and down. Something had shifted in him. The higher ups noticed. The clan members noticed. Even you noticed. He was sharper. Faster. Stronger. And they were scared of him. You could see it in their eyes when he’d walk past. How their gazes would follow behind his heels, making certain he was on his way out, but still never quite looking at him. Perhaps it was bitterness, or maybe jealousy. But, the more Toji became more like the Zenin his clan had hoped he’d be, the less Zenin he became. A freak. Monster. Unnatural.
You looked away—only for a moment—to let someone pass, and when you glanced back, Toji’s back was up against the stone, wiping sweat off of his fists as he stared up at you.
“How’s the show?” Over the years, his voice had become rough, sly, deep, melting into this unwitting, quiet growl that hid behind each sound. One that echoed behind your ears as soon as you left his quarters. Followed you down the hall, and crept around your head when you crawled into bed. He was always there. Toji.
And now he was here, leaning over the railing, thick fingers gripping the tired bannister. Those hazy eyes, half-lidded and wickedly sharp staring you down as you opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. Um-ing your way to an adequate response, before landing on, “Uh… G-good…”
“Yeah?” The corner of Toji’s lip lifted slightly, smug and teasing. “You don’t sound too sure.”
Your eyes glided up his sweating body, and with every breath you could almost taste the salt and musk that dripped off of his glistening skin. Your gaze landed on his eyes, finally, biting the inside of your cheek to quell the heat gathering underneath your skin, just as a languid drop of sweat fell from his brow. Your heavy stare followed it as it plopped like rain onto his bottom lip. Toji’s tongue crept out from between his lips, like a snake, dragging itself against the curve of his mouth, then pressed his lips together and rubbed. When he released them, his lips were flushed, slightly swollen, and it took everything in you to drag your eyes back up to his.
“I’m sure.” You said, feeling your throat close.
Toji’s eyes remained fixed on you for a moment longer, then another. You swore you could hear the wood splintering between his inhumanly strong grip. Then he sniffed, tilted his head, and smirked. “Good. I like when you watch.”
He didn’t wait for a reaction from you, instead, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and turning to leave.
Toji’s footsteps echoed on the gravel now, like he wanted you to hear him. Like he wanted your senses blown out with nothing but the sound of him, the sight of him, the smell of him.
“I’ll watch you more often, then!” You called after him, eyes wide and almost begging.
That made Toji laugh. He turned back to flash a dark, veiled grin at you. “Hah. You better. Be good now, ‘kay?”
You nodded, and watched him return to the training ground, just as it started to storm.
–
Toji had mentioned a heavenly restriction one day after he’d trained. He hadn’t been sure about anything until then, you noticed. And since then, Toji had become unequivocally bold. If he was hated before, he was now feared. As were you by proxy. He spoke of leaving the clan more now when you were there. Even asked you to sit and eat with him when you brought him his lunch.
The first time he asked, you’d stuttered, “Wh– I… Master Toji, I’m not sure…”
“What’re they gonna do?” Toji rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting into a sly little smirk. “Throw me into the pit? Hah.”
He laughed to himself frequently now, as well. Like the cruelty he endured didn’t rule his life. Even when the mischievous smirk Toji had adopted stayed plastered across his face, the laughs never made it to his eyes. Never made it past the corners of his lips. Not past that scar. You noticed–of course you did—but he pretended you didn’t. Pretended you were just a servant that brought him lunch. Well, he tried. You were a servant who brought him lunch, and you held no cursed energy. You were his servant who brought him lunch, and you didn’t sneer on sight. You were his, and you weren’t scared of him. Not really.
But the higher ups were. And the irony of constant degradation his whole life that had suddenly warped into terror and cowering behind members of the Hei…It was the closest he ever got to revenge. That, and you.
You’d paused, eyes flitting across his lazy frame, then nodded. “Where should I sit, Master Toji?”
“Yer’ something else. M’not your master.” He rolled his eyes. “Been telling you for years.”
“Yeah, but–” You began, but Toji waved you off.
“C’mere.” He smirked with a twinkle in his eye, nodding you to where he was kneeling on a cushion. “Sit next t’me.”
The smaller cushion sat directly next to his, almost touching Toji’s pillow, and when you carefully moved it over, Toji tutted and moved it right back. “What, ya scared of me now?”
“Mm, no…” You knelt down, annoyingly aware of the way his haori felt against your kimono. He waited patiently as you smoothed out your skirt–although Toji's version of ‘waiting patiently’ was following your every movement with the intensity of a hunter. You ignored him. “Just didn’t want to…impose.”
Toji scoffed with a smile, looking out the window in front of you. “My favorite little disgrace? Hah. My lady, you could never impose.”
“My lady?” You repeated, leaning back ever so slightly.
Toji’s chin bobbed, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a calm smile as he took a sip of tea. “Yep.”
“I’m not–”
He glanced at you, barely turning his head. “Don’t ya call me master?”
You shook your head, “Y-yes… But—”
“Right. You know they only made you a servant cuz yer’ a woman.” Toji shrugged, reaching down to split his serving of rice into two. “And–I guess–because I’m part of the royal family.”
The sound of chopsticks against ceramic filled a short silence before Toji passed the bowl to you. “Thank you, Master–”
“Call me that again, and yer’ gonna wish you were in the pit.” Toji didn’t even look up as he said it, but a shiver flew down your spine.
“But, you… you just said…You’re a member of the royal family, so to speak.”
Now, Toji turned to look at you. “Can’t I just be ‘Toji’ with you?”
His eyes were softening now as the cicadas outside began to sing, and you caught his rarely gentle gaze in your own stare.
You heard him swallow, then whisper, “Please.”
His shuddering breath broke the word in two. His eyes flicked from spot to spot on your face, taking you in. You wondered if he was saying goodbye, in his head. Wondered how long he had been waiting to really ask. A genuine request from a lonely, tired boy, rather than the usually playful scolds that you brushed off. You hadn’t seen it before Toji allowed it, but you did now. Because he was letting you in now. His eyebrows turned up, biting the inside of his cheek. The way his inhales were shaky and coarse, like he had been holding back vomit. The magical sparkle of emerald in his eye reflected it all, if you looked hard enough. And you always did.
“I…” You swallowed thickly, curling your fingers into the skirt of your kimono. “Okay. Toji.”
He snorted through his nose—partly in relief, you thought—and the corners of his lips peaked into your periphery. “There ya go. Was it so hard?”
You were quiet for a moment. “Yes.”
“You love to whisper.” Toji mumbled, beginning to shovel rice through his scarred lips.
A nod. A quiet wooden clack of your chopsticks as you picked at the bowl of rice.
“Heh.”
“What?”
“Yer’ just funny.” He shook his head, turning towards you and propping his foot up. “Known you our whole life an’ you still act like the submissive little girl they dragged away back in that garden.”
You turned to look at him sharply, “you still remember that?”
“Course I do.” Toji’s cold eyes dug into your skin like the crushed ice you’d dig out from the freezer when it was mid day, hot summer, sweltering. The boiling sun would melt the jagged ice against your skin and it would burn like hot steam. His gaze burnt cold, just like that. “Ya didn’t look at me like the rest of ‘em did.”
He paused, looking past you briefly, then continued. “I appreciated that.”
You took another bite, and nodded, before swallowing quietly. “You looked… Sad.”
“Hah.” Toji threw his head back with a soft smile that oozed bitter nostalgia. “I was.”
“Mm.” You averted your eyes, then felt a rush of meek courage trickle into your chest. “M’sorry they dragged me away that day.”
“Pshh,” Toji elbowed you softly. “Don’t be. You wouldn’t’ve wanted to hang with me anyway.”
“Why’s that?” You looked up at him, angling yourself just inches closer, so your knees pressed together.
His Adam's apple bobbed as his gaze shifted downwards, but you missed it in your own bleary state of nervousness. He licked his lips, then glanced back up. “I was a little ass.”
Toji’s gaze held you strong, almost unblinking.
“You… Still are.” You said shyly, a hesitant smirk creeping against your cheeks for the first time. Toji let the silence slip around the two of you. Wanted to let the quiet linger just in case your heartbeat was loud enough to pound in his ears. It was.
Heart beat pounding, and yet it wasn’t the thumping drum beneath your ribs that exposed you. He could smell your fear. Did you go too far? Did you overstep? It melted off you the way it melted off a sorcerer when they realized they’d made a fatal mistake. Dripping and pooling around them, flooding Toji’s senses. They’d catch Toji’s eyes, frozen, just like you were looking at him at this moment.
Poor baby. Toji thought. Although, less in a piteous way, and more in a way in which you plagued his days. An incessant idea that bugged him every day, spinning around his brain. When he went to sleep, you were there. What did you look like sleeping? Which side of your body did you curl up on? Toji wanted to know. God, he wanted to know. Wanted to let his fingertips skim the expanse of your skin, tuck strands of hair behind your ear when they inevitably draped across your cheek. Would the morning light trickle across your features—leaving you with a painting of golden sunrise and shadow—or would it illuminate you like the angel you were? Would your hair glow? Would the light reflect like warm honey?
“I—I’m sorry—“
“Don’t be.” Toji bit the inside of his cheek, then glanced back at you with a small smile. “I am an ass.”
You laughed, and, oh. Toji could’ve sung an aria. Heart floating into his throat. He had to physically stop himself from grinning wide and unabashed.
“But,” Toji held your eyes with a smile, and focused a kind of seriousness that left your lips parted in breathless wonder. Right into your soul. “I’m only an ass to the monkeys that look at you and me like we’re the dog shit they wipe off their shoes.”
“Toji…” A whisper.
His palm gently landed just above your knee, eyes still on your face. Watching you as each muscle in your face flinched into different shapes. Surprise, a touch of fear. Let his own eyes soften when yours did. Because god forbid Toji let you feel alone in a feeling he caused. He felt it too. Needed you to know. At least through his eyes.
Toji squeezed your knee gently, tensing as you shakily put your hand on his. His thumb slipped out from beneath your palm, only to brush the side of your finger. The wind brushed through the window, whistling the aria Toji could’ve sung. And then it was gone. Toji slipped his hand out from your trembling touch with a grunt. “It’s nothin’.”
Your hand floated in the air where he’d slipped away, then slowly replaced the space that Toji had taken up. “Well… Thank you.”
He glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “For…?”
You sighed, looking at the maple tree whose leaves tickled the windowframe. “Forgive me—in advance—for my forwardness… But, you, Toji, have… Well, you’ve changed everything.”
“Ah?”
“Master Ogi no longer treats me as he used to. He’s scared of you.”
Toji could only look at you with a clenched jaw.
So you continued, breath stuttering. “You’ve made your… care… for me… public knowledge. You… You openly accept me in a clan where I am anything but acknowledged. I’m sorry, I’m not good with words, and you… are a man I never expected to know.”
And there went the wind again. Rushing around wherever yours and Toji’s breath didn’t reach. Carrying the sound of cicadas and their throat song.
“Can’t help it.” He looked up at the ceiling. “I like ya.”
“I like you too, Toji.” You said, keeping a special eye on the way his eyes fluttered closed as his name left your lips.
A brief moment of cicada’s aria, and then Toji spoke again.
“Come back tonight.” He didn’t look at you, heart beating too fast in the midst of his reckless invitation. “Will ya—“
It was your turn to rest your palm on his knee. Gently leaning forward, suddenly so much closer than you’d expected. “I will.”
Had he moved? Had he felt your touch and leaned in, instinctively? You were face to face, just close enough that his breath lightly touched your nose.
Without a word, Toji reached for your face, carefully holding either side of your jaw in his giant hand. His calloused thumb brushed your skin ever so slightly—the closest he’d ever been. How could he even be any closer? Everything but the ‘now’ felt impossible. Fiction. Just a song someone might sing, written in the dead of night. A harmony that hasn’t been written.
“Y/N!” A call came from behind Toji’s sliding door, and then Toji’s hand was gone. Gone as quick as you had risen from your seat, bowed and slipped out of his room. Like a ghost.
—
That evening, Toji threw himself into his training. Slashing dummy after dummy. Imagining Ogi’s face. Naoya’s smug little grin. Wiping it with his blade and imagining the blood dripping down the silver with lust in his bright green stare.
Toji felt your own gaze before you even noticed you were staring. Leaned over a waist-level stone wall, eyes licking across his bare torso. Sweat glistening gold as the sunset draped across him. Your eyes trained on his furrowed brow, and scarred sneer. He swung his sword with deft accuracy, knowing you were there. Tore the dummy to pieces in ways you’d never seen him do, knowing you were there. It was all for you, this sunset sweat was for you. Every swing. Every growl a thought of the craving for you. All for you.
By the time Toji allowed a glance in your direction—the show he’d put on for you finally over as he panted against a wooden beam—you were lost in the hypnotizing twilight that had descended on his figure, now leaving him cascaded, draped in a haunting blue glow. His eyes found yours, smirking to himself as the vision of you finally looked back at him.
“How was the show?” He called, slipping his linen top over his frame.
Your lips parted, the corners of your mouth poking up. “Impressive, as always.”
Toji smiled, walking over slowly. “You spyin’ on me?”
“Just…” You swallowed with a gentle expression, then a deep breath. “…Watching the show.”
That earned a raise of his eyebrows, and a slow rake up your leaning figure as he approached you. “Yeah?”
“Mm… Yeah.” You whispered quietly, breathless now that Toji was close enough to notice all the ways you couldn’t hide your nerves.
His scarred lip pulled to the side in a devious little grin. “Ya still gonna come an’ eat with me later?”
“If you’ll have me…” A flush bloomed across your cheeks slowly. “Will the elders approve of me skipping dinner duty?”
Toji rolled his green eyes, brushing his messy black hair out of his face. “They can kiss my sorry ass.”
The periwinkle twilight had sunk into a dark navy now, and it glittered in his gaze as he paused, then winked. “C’mon. I’ll walk ya back to the main building.”
The walk was quiet, the muffled sound of gravel under anxious footsteps echoing around you. The sound only changed when you stepped inside the building and you parted ways hesitantly and with a lingering gaze.
—
The evening spun by, and then you were at his door again, holding a wooden tray in softly shaky hands, two dinners. For two lonely disgraces.
You barely had to knock before Toji was letting you through, his knuckles white as he gripped the doorway. It all felt tense and tight as he walked you to the short table.
“How was your evening?” Toji said, voice low, but light. The sound of his pitch just the same as it always had been: Raspy, lilting, floating above his words like wind throwing rocks.
“Good.” You sat, kneeling as you placed the trays down. “Looking forward to eating…Toji.”
“Yeah.” Toji towered over you, watching you fidget with a fond gaze. “Me too.”
After a moment of wordlessness, with only the rustling of the trees outside his window whispering the words neither of you were speaking aloud, you looked up at Toji, voice earnest. “Please…sit with me.”
Toji’s lips parted slightly, then allowed himself a silent nod. He sat with a grunt, the tension in his body melting off of him the closer he got to you. He could smell you. Of course, he could smell you. You were just inches away from him, and looking at him so sweetly. So kindly. Somehow, the whispering, shaking of the leaves outside, and the languid feeling of your eyes on him had rendered him silent. Nervous. Distrustful of his own voice, as one wrong word might scare off the beautiful bird in front of him. Hesitant to move an inch, lest he send you flying to the branches that shook against the window.
You broke the silence, brows pinched together into a gentle frown. “You’re quiet… Are you alright?”
“Ah…” Toji nodded quickly, handing you a pair of chopsticks and shoveling a mouthful of rice into his mouth. “Mmphyes.”
You met his unabashedly nervous gaze for a moment, before shaking your head, and picking up your own chopsticks. You raised a bite to your lips, then paused. “Thank you, for inviting me to eat again.”
Toji glanced at you sharply, mischief and a suddenly unsettling glow of his own shyness shuddering in his eyes. “Well, I… Uh… I figured if I had ya to myself…”
“To yourself?” You repeated, feeling the breath leave your body with every word. “Don’t you have me to yourself… everyday?”
“Not like this, I don't.” He let his head fall back slightly, squeezing his eyes shut to will his nerves to fall away–if not completely, then just enough that he could breathe without wondering if you were listening. “Nah. Tonight, I…I just get you. Not the version of you that’s scared of curses ya can’t see–”
“Toji…”
“Let me finish,” Instead of falling away, it seemed as if Toji’s nerves had twisted themselves into a wild amalgamate of fear and desperate, biting need. He caught your knee as you turned away slightly, chin sinking low against your neck, as if you were running from his stare. “I just… want to know you.”
You tensed under his touch, the scent of his soap lingering from his bath. A whisper, “I want to know you, Toji.”
He was silent, then the corners of his mouth lifted softly. “So… know me.”
“How?”
A pause. Then Toji swallowed hard, as if to shove his urges back down to his stomach where they slept. “However you want.”
You glared at him, a smile poking desperately against your cheeks as they flushed nervously. “I’ve never… known… someone before. Any… Um… Ideas?”
“...Heh.” Toji chuckled, then turned his head to face front once more, picking up his chopsticks and picking at the food. “Lots.”
“Oh?” You picked at your own food, stomach consumed with Toji, Toji, Toji rather than a lick of hunger. It wasn’t rice you craved. Or protein. You couldn’t look at him, else you knew he’d see the starving spark of need that flickered in your eyes, the same spark Toji never hid from you.
“Mmhmm.” Toji spoke with his mouth full, smirking quietly. Sometimes it felt as if he could hear your thoughts when you were quiet. Intuition, or context clues, or soulmates. Whatever it was, Toji loved you, and you loved him. Quietly.
After another moment filled with the scrape of Toji’s wooden chopsticks on clay bowls, and yours barely skirting the quickly cooling bowl of rice, Toji put his chopsticks down and turned to face you. “Not hungry?”
You met his lidded gaze with parted lips. “Ah… I… How did you kn-know?”
Your heart beat heavy behind your ribcage as the ridiculous excuse of a response hung in the air. You followed Toji’s eyes to look at the food left in your bowl, then back at you.
“Well, forgetting the fact that you’ve barely touched yer food…” Toji breathed you in deeply, before smiling a half-smirk, half-grin. With a tilt of his head, Toji’s long, shaggy dark hair sprawled across his eyes, framing the darkening, glassy jade of his stare, and it was only the feeling of his large palm gently pressed against your sternum that shocked you back to reality. “The fact that I can hear yer’ heart beating like a monkey in a cage from all the way over here… Yer’ body is so… loud.”
His long, thick fingers draped across your collarbone, his mouth inevitably sneaking closer in order to feel your hot skin, the rhythm of your heart beating vibrations through his palm… It was deafening, and overwhelming, and heavy, and louder than the rustling of the trees, and quieter than the tiniest breath, all at the same time.
“Toji…” Your heart beat quicker, heavier.
“Ya know… You’ve always been so sweet to me–my whole life–and you think, hah.” He paused, shaking his head with a smile that crept like vines up his cheeks. “Do you think I don’t look at you when you leave? Watch… god, watch the way you look at me like you wanna climb me?”
“I—“ Your eyes grew round with a sharp gasp.
“Nah, don’t hide it.” Now, Toji looked over, eyes flitting down the outline of your face, following your neck, mapping where your body began to curve and angle itself towards him. His gaze was grueling, dark, memorizing you so when he blinked, he could imagine you without even trying. You’d already be there, in his mind's eye, smiling. He smirked, “Wouldn’t mind if ya did.”
You swallowed so hard it just about echoed in Toji’s ears. “If I did…?”
“Climb me.” His voice was a special kind of low. One you hadn’t heard before. It was scratchy like stubble against smooth skin. Like grass on a sundress in the heat of summer. The room felt hot as if it were midday. Skin crawling, pushing you centimeter by centimeter. Closer and closer, til his palm was forced to slip up your collarbone. You inhaled a trembling sip of air as his hand gently held the column of your neck, then continued to cradle your jaw. “I’d let ya.”
“You’d let me.” You repeated, faces close enough now that every word left a puff of air on Toji’s lips. You watched, pulse creeping up your neck, as he closed his eyes and nodded.
“I’d let ya.” Toji’s eyes blazed green when he opened them, meeting your eyes with barely withheld, crippling fire.
You wanted to turn away, to tuck your chin and hide your face before the blush turned you red, but Toji held your jaw fast. You swallowed with a hesitant gulp, and a tiny inhale that was filled with nothing but him. “You’re observant.” You said, softly, almost to yourself.
“Mm.” He pressed his lips together, nodding, and let his thumb brush across the corner of your lip. The heated flush of your cheeks simmered underneath his touch, sending the same flush across his. “You ever observed how I look at you?”
A pause. “I… I’m not sure…”
“You’d be pretty blind.” Toji muttered, exhaling shortly. A silence slipped between the two of you once more. Silence was so common between you, and it was never truly quiet when it was left behind by your words, or his. The silences between you and Toji were simply the melody to the cicadas singing in the hot, humid air, or the whispers in between rustling maple leaves. This silence, though, was quiet. Tension so thick in the air, that it blinded the senses. You breathed, you were sure you were breathing, and you could make out the feeling of his own breath on yours, but you couldn’t be sure. You were scared to be sure of any of it at all. Of course you’d seen how hot his gaze was when you entered a room. It was impossible not to feel that dark, pressing stare at sunrise, when you’d stop to watch him train. But, now, in front of Toji–or, rather, inches from Toji… He asked for certainty, begged, even, and the words to assure didn’t come. Tangling together in your head like links in an iron chain that bound you where you were.
“You can’t see the way I look at you?” Toji’s brows pinched into a soft frown. “Do I have to be more obvious?”
Your lips parted, but Toji continued before you could speak, his voice trembling now. “Shit, I can be more obvious. Do I need to kiss ya? Tell ya how much I look forward to yer’ smell… jus’ floatin’ down the hallway?”
His other hand lifted to cradle the other side of your face, squishing your cheeks just enough to make you gasp. “I will. I’ll do it. God. I’d do anythin’ just to make it so you never have to know the feeling of blood on yer’ brow ever again. You’d never… fuck… Never know the pit again. I’d make ‘em pay for it… for it all.”
Toji was rambling now, but it barely registered, as tears began to stumble down his cheeks like rain on a dusty hill. You reached up with both palms, cradling his face in your hands, catching each tear with your thumb.
“If I asked you to kiss me… Would you?” You met his glassy, emerald stare, an earnest sort of determination spilling from your gaze in a way he’d never seen before.
Toji’s lips parted, then twitched slightly as a tear fell onto his bottom lip. No longer did Toji smell of salt and musk, like the last time. No, Toji smelled of soap, and cologne applied hastily and in the wrong way. He smelled like the roses that should’ve been blooming the day you met him in the garden. He smelled like him. Without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips exactly where the tear had fallen, and kissed him.
A broken sound echoed in the back of Toji’s throat as your lips met, then swiftly broke away, panting. Toji’s arms fell away, as did your’s, and you were left staring. He considered allowing a silence to fall again. To relish in the knowledge that he made you feel this wild, uncontrolled, unabashed, and unequivocally loved. But, as he gazed upon your soft, nervous expression, it took everything in him not to wrap his arms around you and kiss you until you were pushing him away to breathe. Before he could decide one way or the other, though, you spoke. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t right… I–”
“Oh, fuck you.” Toji shook his head, encircling your waist with his arms and lifting you like it was nothing. He stood–you, clasped to his chest–and walked you over to the midsized bed, tucked against the wall. With your legs dangling, Toji slipped one hand to the back of your head, and kissed you with an unexpected tenderness. Kissed you with soft lips, unbitten and smooth, save for the fleshy scar on the corner of his mouth. Your hands slipped up his neck in response, threading through his still-damp hair, and kissing him so soft that you sighed a blissful sound into his mouth.
Then the bed was underneath you, his blanket bunching up against your skin as Toji laid you down and clambered over you. He pulled back once you were settled, gazing down at you. His beautiful bird. Your hair fell over your face haphazardly, cheeks flushed, and your lips looked as if you’d just dipped them in pepper juice. You were smiling, too. That smile. Toji smiled back, soft. Gentle. As if he didn’t tower over you. As if he couldn’t kill you. He’d never smile like that with anyone else. He reserved it for you.
“Toji…” You whispered, reaching up to find purchase on his muscled shoulders.
He leaned down, placing his elbows on either side of your head, effectively caging you in like the magnificent bird he saw in you. But, you didn’t feel like a bird. You felt hot, and desperate, like a flame spreading in a bush, dancing from branch to branch, begging to consume–or be consumed.
“Yeah…?” Toji teased, voice lilting and rough. “And what could you possibly want?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, then let your head fall back, eyes squeezing shut with a whine. “You know. Please.”
“And what if I don’t?” Toji smirked, looking down past his nose at your pouting face. “Wouldn’t wanna cross a line… pretty thing.”
“I… fuck…” You mumbled under your breath, lessons in etiquette from your mother crumbling with every move Toji made. By now his strong, thick thigh had slotted riiiight between your knees, you could feel each muscle when he flexed them. “Cross it. I-I don’t care!”
Toji raised an eyebrow, smiling wildly. “Oh…?”
You pressed your lips together, a creeping, whining groan rumbling quietly underneath your breath. “I want you. I…”
“...You…?” Toji repeated, smile falling into an earnest expression that begged you to say something unspoken.
“...I love you.” You turned your face away from him, skin crawling with nerves that crunched and emptied out your chest to sink into.
“Yeah.” Toji spoke low, rough. “Thought so.”
He angled your face back to the center, then lowered himself down slightly. Toji’s words were tangled too. Wrapped around his brain so tightly, it was all he could do not to devour you. So pliant, so darling beneath him. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Although, he wasn’t so hesitant in fear that you’d startle and run. No. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth, lest he tell you how badly he wanted to fuck you until you cried, lest he tell you how he had to fist his cock like a madman after every. Single. Visit. Just to put the image of you, filled with him, out of his mind.
So instead, with one long finger, he brushed the hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. He handled you with such care, that when he did close the distance between you, you hadn’t expected the hungry, desperate, biting kiss that Toji began ravaging you with. But, you mirrored him. You moved with him. Lips on lips. Crashing in and out like angry waves that missed the shore. Tongue licking tongue, catching teeth, nipping and sucking like the other would pull away, or disappear. Lewd moans spilled from both of you, mixing like the cicada songs you’d gotten to know so well. Your hands eventually dragged from his shoulders, to his chest, then down, and down again until they wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and closer. His under-the-breath fucks and growls as you moved against him guided you closer, angling your hip against his. Feeling him. Two voices. One song.
Breathless, he pulled back with a desperate groan, pulling his shirt up over his head. Toji’s muscles rippled in the cool moonlight that cascaded through the window. His plush, glistening lips caught the soft moonlight as he spoke. “I love you, s’hard to put into words.”
“I know.” You whispered, eyes languidly pulling across his breathtaking silhouette. He looked like an angel, softly surrounded by the quiet glow of the moon’s diffused reflections. His moon-angel silhouette then lowered closer to you again, and kissed you slow. Agonizingly slow. Slow enough that his hands could creep up from your hip, slide across your waist, and slip just underneath the hem of your top.
Tentatively, his fingertips grazed a nipple. Once, then, after feeling your back arch into his touch, another time, but with just that much more pressure. You moaned into his mouth, your brows knitted together in a pleasure you didn’t know much of. That was all it took for Toji to pull away, then rip your top right down the middle.
“I’ll get you another one.” Toji muttered just before leaning down and capturing your sensitive chest in his mouth. His tongue was soft against your skin, sucking you softly between his lips, just until he heard a broken, choked moan spill from your lips. “Atta girl.”
Your vision blurred, squirming underneath him, even as he pulled away slightly, Toji left suckling, purple bruises in a haphazard line across your chest as he moved to the other side. He wrapped his lips around you once more, and your hands flew to his shaggy hair, burying your fingers in its depths.
“Sh-Shit…I… Nmnmph…!” You whimpered, gasping as Toji slipped one hand down your stomach, underneath the waistband of your bottoms, and tentatively let his fingertips brush across your hot, needing cunt.
“Yer’… So wet… Hah.” Toji smirked against your skin, looking up at you through his lashes. “All for me?”
“Mm!” You nodded, brows pulled together as his fingers began to touch. Gliding down between your cunt like he’d been there before, gently grazing your clit between two knuckles, and smirking when you inhaled a shuddering gulp of air. Every touch felt white hot, every lick of tongue against your sensitive nipple, all of him. All of him suddenly everywhere, as his finger ventured farther down, slipping into your canal with barely any resistance. Every nerve stood on end, singing warm and loud with each firm, but gentle, stroke of his fingers.
As he felt your cunt stretch around your fingers, he slipped another finger in, and you swore you felt the corner of his mouth lifting into a sly smirk at the sound of the shocked moan that was thrown from your throat.
“Mmph, yer louder than I imagined.” Toji peaked up above your chest, fondly gazing at your face, which had contorted itself in pleasure. “C’mere.”
You let out a half-grunt, half-moan as you craned your neck closer to his mouth, finding yourself captured in a heavy, whimpering kiss. Whether the whimper was yours or his was unclear, as each sound made became the same in between the two of you. He swallowed your sweet whimpers with every caressing push and pull of his fingers. In and out of your sweating cunt. In and out. And in and out. Until all that frigid, white heat from before began to tumble around, beneath your stomach, building like snow in a blizzard, culminating into this unknowing, unwitting fire that grew and grew until it released around his thick fingers, your body trembling so uncontrolled in his hold, your brain went fuzzy and blank. Toji kissed you through it, shuddering with each tremor that brushed against his clothed bulge.
“That’s it. Good, that’s it, my girl. My pretty girl. So good. F-Fuck…” Toji rambled against your lips, generous praises that sent ripples of fresh fire through your veins. As the tremors subsided, he slowly pulled his fingers from your cunt, parting from your lips, and presenting them between the two of you with a parted, breathless expression. With your eyes wide, pupils blown out, you met his shining fingers, dripping with you, and suckled the glistening skin, taking his fingers fully between your lips. He held your gaze with shaking breath, taking in the lewd sight of his servant licking his hands clean of her own cum.
“I…I need t’fuck you.” Toji’s eyes took you in like he’d die without you. “Can I fuck you?”
You could barely speak, mouth full of his fingers, but you nodded. “Mmph… Mmhmm… Mm!”
You gasped as he removed his fingers, pulling back on his knees to push his pants down to his pool below him, then leaned forward to help you pull your bottoms off. You lay naked and glowing underneath him, almost eclipsed by his tower-like shadow.
“T-Toji…” You mumbled up at him, staring like he was an angel come to save you. His cock hung heavy underneath his abdomen, leaking precum like a dripping faucet.
“I’ll go slow, ‘kay?” Toji leaned down, approaching to kiss you, but your fingers threaded through his hair, causing him to pause.
“Okay… I just…” You swallowed, inhaling deeply. Your brows were knitted together in a loveborn pout. “I love you.”
Toji. Moon-angel Toji. You’d never seen him smile so soft. Like a caress upon the air. Eyes so gentle. Like the brush of wind upon long grass. His voice broke as he spoke. “I love you.”
He kissed you so deep, then pulled away to arrange himself at your still sopping cunt. As Toji pushed in, ever-so-slightly, he glanced up to catch your blissed out expression, corners of your lips reaching towards your ears, eyes half-lidded and rolled back. He grinned, smug, and pushed farther, and farther. The stretch felt like every pain you’d felt had a purpose. Like the blood on your brow the day he touched your face so delicately was the same touching Toji followed as he finger fucked you to unimaginable bliss.
As you felt him finally bottom out, tip pressed up against your cervix, you gasped. So full. Of Toji. Of love. Of the knowledge that Toji saw you. That he loved you. You swore his eyes didn’t leave your face, other than when he leaned in to kiss you, fiercely.
“F-Fuck. So t-tight…I…God damn.” Toji muttered, pulling away from your lips, and moaning pathetically as he began moving inside of you.
Each thrust of his cock knocked the breath from your chest, and Toji caught each one. All the moaning, the muffled whimpers, covered by pressed-together lips and messy kisses… You’d both exhausted them now, left only with the silent pants from both of your parted lips, the lewd sound of skin slapping against sweating skin, and the occasional groan, or whine, from either of you. You didn’t need to say anything, only to look at the other with a wildly desperate expression, and Toji knew. Knew you. And you knew him. That cicada song that you both sung in silence and breath, it echoed between each pap, pap, pap. Filled you both with the hot summer sun, flame creeping down your abdomen, twirling like a firework, then with a breathless, almost silent moan, breaking free and bursting wildly around his slick length, thick and throbbing in you as Toji fucked you through another orgasm.
“So-So pretty…Shit…M’gonna…” The sound of his low, raspy voice cracked as his pace grew messy, hurried, and inconsistent, until finally, he spilled deep inside of you. Toji stilled, and you moved your hips along his length, relishing in every desperate throb of his cock as he continued to cum. “H-holy shit… Hah. Never c-cum this much in my– God damn. In my life.”
You laughed softly. An aria. And Toji grinned down at you. “I like knowing you.”
Gaze softening, you smiled gently, and spoke with a whisper. “I love you.”
Toji let his fingers trace the outline of your face softly, then, as he reached your chin, met your gaze again. “My beautiful bird. I love you.”
cheek kisses . toji x f!reader : toji never gives you kisses on your cheeks
"why do you always kiss my lips?" you asked toji softly. you were fixing your hair when he came in and stole a kiss from your lips.
"hm?" he hummed.
"why do you always kiss my lips?" you asked again, turning to face him.
toji blinked. he was confused. you never brought up any complaints before. did you not like his kisses?
"do you not like when i kiss your lips?" he asked hesitantly. his hands found your hands and he pulled you closer. "i can stop if you don't."
you shook your head. "its not that. its just i kind of want you to kiss my cheek sometimes or my forehead. you always just dive right for my lips."
toji sighed. "are you complaining?" his grip on your waist tightened slightly.
you shook your head quickly. you pulled him closer and looked at him with panic. "no! im not. i love your kisses, dont ever stop, please. forget i said anything."
toji laughed at your panicked state. he brought his hands to your cheeks and squished them together till your lips formed a pout.
he pressed his lips to your pout and then let go of your cheeks.
"and what do i get if i start kissing your cheeks?" he asked with a smirk on his lips.
you glared at him and punched his chest. "why do you always need something in return? can't a girl just want her boyfriend to kiss her cheek?"
toji smiled. "nope. i'll always kiss your lips. cheek kisses are for teenage boys. im a man, doll."
you rolled your eyes and pushed him away. if he wanted to play like that then you would too.
"fine, i'll just ask gojo-"
lips landed on your cheek instantly. toji's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. he pressed kiss after kiss on your cheek before moving to the other one and doing the same thing.
a laugh escaped your lips and you pulled away from him.
"i thought cheek kisses were for teenage boys."
toji looked at you with feigned confusion. "who said that?"
The bathwater steamed around you, curling up toward the ceiling in ghostly spirals. You sank lower until the water in the basin reached just below your collarbones, heat wrapping around your body like a second skin. You could feel the dull ache deep in your belly — not sharp, just heavy, like a stone resting where it shouldn’t be. Familiar, annoying, and grounding in a way you hated.
Your period had started overnight. You knew the moment you woke — the telltale soreness in your hips, the sluggish weight behind your navel, the subtle throb that tugged at the edge of everything you felt. It wasn’t a bad day, not by your usual standards, but it was enough to make you retreat.
The bath helped. At least here, you could pretend you were something softer. That your body wasn’t fighting itself. That you weren’t this vulnerable thing made of blood and tenderness and fraying nerves.
You added lavender oil and just a few drops of something citrusy you found under the sink. The scent was calming — rich, floral, a little bitter. You liked it. It made you feel like you could finally breathe.
The water was tinted the faintest pink between your thighs. Not much. Barely anything. But you saw it.
You always saw it.
You shifted slightly, the heat soothing the soreness along your spine, your thighs parting just enough to let the water slip between. You let one hand rest on your stomach, fingers brushing over the subtle curve of it. There was something about this — the quiet, the heat, the press of your own touch — that made you ache in a different way. Not just the cramping. Not just discomfort.
Loneliness. Restlessness. Desire.
You didn’t always feel like this when you bled. Sometimes you just wanted to hide, wear thick sweaters and avoid mirrors. But today… today you craved softness. Warmth. You craved being wanted, even if only by yourself.
Your fingers drifted lower — just exploring at first, no real goal. Just skin against skin, heat against heat. Your breathing slowed. You brushed gently over your inner thigh, let your palm press flat just above the sore spot in your abdomen. The ache there was so deep it almost felt hollow. But below it… there was something else. A low, humming tension. Alive.
You slipped one hand lower, slowly, lazily, barely grazing the place that had begun to throb with a different kind of need. You sighed. Your hips shifted, knees sliding apart a little more beneath the water. You felt the start of something. A pulse. A promise.
And then—
Knock knock.
You froze.
„Y/N?”
Higuruma.
Your body went stiff under the water, caught somewhere between arousal and panic. Not panic, exactly — just the sharp embarrassment of being known too intimately.
He sounded close. You could picture him standing just outside the door in that damn jumper, barefoot, probably holding something on a tray. Probably smiling.
„I made you breakfast,” he said gently. „Thought maybe you’d want something warm.”
God, he was too good. Too sweet. It almost made it worse.
„I’m just… still in the bath,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady, natural. You shifted again, covering yourself instinctively even though he couldn’t see.
„You okay?” he asked.
That question. Always that question. He said it like it mattered. Like the answer wasn’t just small talk.
„Yeah,” you said, quieter. „Just… crampy. Trying to soak it away.”
There was a pause. You could hear the faint creak of him leaning against the doorframe.
„Do you want company?”
Your stomach twisted.
Company.
Did you?
The image rose in your mind unbidden — him walking in, seeing the faint pink hue in the water, the flushed look on your face, the way your body ached with two kinds of need at once. You suddenly felt shy. Not modest — he’d seen you naked more times than you could count — but raw.
„I’m not exactly at my most… elegant,” you murmured.
He chuckled, and you could hear the smile in it. „You think I care about elegance?”
You bit the inside of your cheek. God, he had no idea how that disarmed you. How the way he said those things — like you were already enough, always — made you want to cry a little.
„I’m serious,” he said, voice softening. „I’ll only come in if you want me to.”
There was a silence. You felt it stretch between you two like a held breath. You could say no. You could stay here, let this ache stay yours alone. But you didn’t want that.
Not really.
„Yes,” you said quietly, before you could change your mind. „But… gently.”
The door creaked open a moment later.
Higuruma stepped inside the washrooms with bare feet and sleepy eyes, a tray in his hands with tea and what looked like a folded napkin hiding something warm. He placed it on the counter carefully, then turned to you.
And he didn’t flinch.
He didn’t hesitate.
He looked at you like you were beautiful, even with your hair damp and messy, even with the faint rosiness in the water, even with the tiredness around your eyes. That look alone made something twist inside you — not sharp, not shameful. Just intense.
„You look…” he began, then stopped — just smiled in that way he always did when he didn’t want to overwhelm you.
You felt yourself blush under the water, which was ridiculous, considering how often he’d seen you naked. But this was different. You weren’t at your best. Not glowing or playful or in control. You were tired and cramping and bleeding.
And still, his eyes softened as he looked at you — not flinching, not awkward. Just… present.
„Don’t,” I whispered. „Don’t say something sweet unless you really mean it.”
„I always mean it.”
He reached for the hem of his shirt and began pulling it up over his head.
Your breath caught.
He wasn’t getting in like that — not in jeans, not half-clothed. He was undressing. For you.
And gods, you loved the way he looked when he did it without hesitation. Slow, calm, confident — like there was nowhere else he wanted to be but here, with you. He peeled off the last of his clothes, folding them neatly before stepping closer to the basin.
You watched him through half-lidded eyes, trying not to flinch, trying not to hide. He didn’t look at the water like it bothered him. Didn’t glance down to see if it was pink. He just stepped in, one foot at a time, the water rippling outward, and settled behind you.
You sank forward a little instinctively, your spine brushing his chest as his legs bracketed yours. Your heart beat faster — not from nerves, exactly, but from the sudden intensity of it. The intimacy. His skin on yours. The way he held still for a second, just letting you adjust to the feeling of him wrapped around you.
„You okay?” he murmured, mouth close to your ear.
You nodded, but you couldn’t quite find your voice. You were warm all over — not just from the bath.
„I can feel how tense you are,” he whispered. „Let me take care of you.”
„I’m bleeding,” you said before you could stop yourself. The words came out too fast, too exposed. „It’s not exactly—”
„Y/N.” His voice was soft, but firm. He nuzzled just behind your ear, his hands sliding slowly, soothingly over your arms. „You think I care about that?”
You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes over your shoulder.
„They say it’s messy,” you said, barely above a whisper.
„So’s love,” he murmured back.
That did something to you.
Before you could respond, his hand slid down your belly under the water, gentle but intentional, stopping just above your navel. The heat of his palm was steady. Calming. You felt like you could melt into it.
„You’ve been holding tension here all day, haven’t you?” he asked.
„Mhm.”
„Let me feel you.”
He moved lower — slowly, reverently — until his fingers slipped between your legs. You inhaled sharply, not from pain, not even embarrassment anymore, but sheer overwhelmed want. He was touching you like you weren’t fragile, like you weren’t broken by this bleeding body, like you were still desirable — not in spite of it, but as you were.
„Still want this?” he asked softly, his voice a vibration against your back.
„Yes,” you breathed.
His fingers traced over your folds — gentle, unhurried, learning how you responded. The heat pulsed there now, alive, building in quiet waves. Your thighs parted slightly in the water, welcoming him in. Your head dropped back against his shoulder.
You whimpered as he found the place that ached for pressure, for rhythm. And he gave it — so delicately at first, just circling, coaxing you into opening up for him. His free hand came to your breast, cupping it under the water, his thumb brushing over your nipple. Your back arched.
„Hiro…”
„I’ve got you,” he whispered. „You feel so good like this. So soft, so warm.”
His words made you tremble. The shame that had clung to you earlier — the discomfort, the doubt — was dissolving with every stroke of his hand, every kiss he pressed to the curve of your shoulder.
You could feel the slickness between your legs growing slicker — water mixing with you, with him — and you didn’t care anymore. You didn’t want distance. You wanted him closer.
You twisted slightly in his arms, turning so you could see his face. Your lips found his, eager and searching, and he kissed you back with quiet hunger. His tongue swept into your mouth, deep and slow, and the hand between your legs didn’t stop — just moved faster, firmer now, matching the rhythm of your hips as you rocked against him.
„You’re close,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours.
You nodded, gasping. „Please don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
Your thighs tensed. Your body trembled. And then you were coming — quietly, completely — your moan lost in his mouth, your fingers digging into his forearm where it held you steady. You felt the pulse of it everywhere: deep in your belly, behind your knees, in your fingertips. Like warmth was blooming outward from the center of you.
You collapsed against him, panting, dazed.
He just held you. Kissed the side of your face. Whispered something soft you couldn’t even make out.
After a moment, you felt him shift behind you — his arousal pressing against your lower back.
And even though your body was still sensitive, still trembling, you turned in the water, straddling his lap, the heat of him pressed against your core.
„I want to make you feel good too,” you said, and the look he gave you in that moment — reverent, desperate — made your chest ache.
„You already do,” he breathed.
But he let you guide him anyway.
And as you sank onto him, water lapping between your bodies, the only thing you could feel anymore was connection — raw, real, grounding.
Even bleeding. Even messy.
He wanted you.
All of you.
And gods, you wanted him back.
He was warm and solid beneath you, his breath already coming faster as you settled into his lap. The water swirled around both of you, catching the rhythm of your bodies before you’d even moved. His hands came to your hips instinctively, gripping them like he needed grounding too.
You could feel how hard he was, pressing right where you needed him, and gods — even after everything, your body was ready. Open. Eager.
Still sensitive from his touch, you moved slowly, letting yourself slide down until you took him in fully.
You both gasped.
The stretch, the heat, the fullness — it was so much. Not painful, not even overwhelming — just right. Except…
A soft hiss escaped your lips — involuntary, sharp. The kind of sound you couldn’t hold back.
Higuruma froze instantly. „Did I hurt you?”
You shook my head against his neck, though your voice was quieter now. „No, just… a little sensitive. I’ve got my period, and…”
He let out a breath, one hand coming up to brush the wet hair from your cheek. „Okay. Then slow. Nice and slow, yeah?”
You nodded, grateful. His hands steadied you gently, and you took another breath, grounding yourself in him.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck for a long moment, just breathing him in. That scent — warm skin, bathwater, something uniquely him — made you dizzy.
He whispered your name like a prayer. His hands were trembling a little as they ran up and down your back, like he couldn’t believe this was real.
„You feel…” he started, but the words caught.
You knew what he meant.
You rolled your hips experimentally — slowly, carefully — and the sound that left his mouth was hungry. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut, and you did it again, this time with a little more confidence.
The water rocked around you two with every movement, soft and rhythmic. You were still bleeding — you knew that — but it didn’t seem to matter. Not to him. Not to you. His hands found your breasts under the water, thumbs brushing over your nipples again, and the jolt of sensation sent a ripple down your spine.
„You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered. „So fucking beautiful.”
You whimpered against his lips as you began to move in earnest now, slow and fluid, letting your body take control. The friction was softer underwater but no less intense. Every thrust, every grind of your hips made you more aware of him, of how deep he was, how fully you were joined.
Your name fell from his lips again and again — like it was the only word he remembered — and it made something tighten in your chest. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to live in this moment forever.
You cupped his face in both hands, kissed him slow and deep, and whispered, „Do you feel how much I want you?”
„Yes,” he groaned. „Every inch of you. I want everything.”
You started to tremble again — not from orgasm yet, but from the sheer intensity of it all. His love. His body. His voice, murmuring filth and praise in your ear as you rode him, thighs flexing, his hands guiding you exactly where you needed.
„You’re doing so well,” he panted. „Let go for me, darling. Just feel.”
And you did.
You let go.
Your head fell back, mouth open, the cry leaving your throat completely unfiltered as you came again — harder this time. Your walls fluttered around him, and you felt the thick, perfect drag of him inside you as he thrust up once, twice, losing control.
He came with a hoarse sound that wasn’t quite a moan, wasn’t quite a growl — just raw need as he spilled inside you, pulling you down hard against him, holding you there as if to keep you fused.
You both stayed like that for a long moment — still joined, barely breathing, your bodies wet and tangled and spent.
You didn’t care about the water.
All you cared about was the way he was looking at you now — like you were soft and powerful and his, all at once.
„Still gross?” he asked, a lazy grin pulling at his lips.
You laughed — breathless, amazed. „No. Just a little in love.”
He kissed your cheek, then your collarbone, then the corner of your mouth.
„Me too,” he said. „All the time.”
And as the water began to cool and the world outside that tiny, steamy bathroom returned, your stayed in his arms.
Exactly as you were.
Exactly as he wanted you.
You two stepped out of the basin, wrapped in warmth — water, towels, and each other.
Higuruma handed you a towel without a word, but his eyes said everything. Tenderness. Wonder. Attention. Like he truly saw you — not just naked, not just desirable, but the whole of you: tired, softened, a little fragile.
You stood there for a moment in silence, the towel wrapped tightly around your body like it could shield you from something invisible. Higuruma was saying something — about tea, about making a fresh cup, about the bed being ready — but suddenly you couldn’t listen.
Not because you didn’t want to.
But because something caught in your throat.
And then it came.
Tears.
Quiet at first, almost unnoticed. One, then another. When you felt them sliding down your cheeks, you covered my face with your hands. You cried silently, your heart pounding like crazy, like shame was trying to rip you out of your own skin.
Higuruma was immediately at your side. He didn’t say anything for a moment — just placed his hands gently on your shoulders, then brushed a wet strand of hair off your forehead.
„Hey, hey, love…” he whispered. „What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, still hiding your face. „I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know. Hormones, probably. And you’re just so… so good to me that it hurts.” You paused because the tears came stronger again. You couldn’t stop them. „You always take care of me like this. Even when I’m… broken, sore, cranky. And I just cry like an idiot.”
Higuruma gently wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, steady and sure.
„Hey, don’t say that about yourself,” he whispered in your ear. „You have every right to feel everything. To break down. And when you cry, it just means you’re human, not some damn statue. And I love all of that.”
You clenched your fingers in his shirt, buried into him like a child.
„I don’t know what I’d do if you ever left me,” you murmured.
Higuruma pulled back slightly to look at you. There was no teasing in his eyes — just full focus and… something else. Something warm, deep, soft.
„Don’t even say that,” he said. „I’m not going anywhere. Even if you cry once a day and yell at me for making bad eggs.”
You laughed through your tears, awkwardly, with a loud sniff.
„The eggs were actually amazing,” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his chest.
He kissed your wet hair. „Come on. Lie down. I’ll bring you something warm.”
Before you knew it, he’d wrapped you in his big sweater and helped you sit on the bed. Covered you with the duvet like it was armor, then slid in beside you, holding you like a cocoon.
You lay there with your cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
You felt… safe.
Embarrassed, broken, rattled by a storm of hormones — but calm.
for the king of curses, time is a cruel thing to him.
sukuna ryomen believed time is a construct, like everything in this world. such constructs don't matter to monsters like sukuna ryomen.
if you could even call him that. he had always tip-toed in the line between what is considered humans. that weird grayish area where the whites, blacks and many greys of the world mix together into nothing but a singular mess indescribable to the human eye. whether he was a human or monster didn't matter to him.
but it mattered for this.
sukuna had always known that human life was fickle and ephemeral. like flowers blooming in the spring only for them to be buried in the snow once again a few months later.
to him, time is limitless. he's seen a hundrend springs, and will live to see hundreds more.
but that wasn't the case with you.
you were a pretty little thing he had swooped from a village he crushed. that day, he didn't know what compelled him to pick you up. but he did.
a young sukuna threw your trembling form over his shoulders and took you with him back to his shrine.
he didn't know it then, but soon you would be the curse to haunt him. you were the salvation he used to pray for, yet the one dragged him down and made him unbearably soft. truly, what curse is worse then the curse of love?
sukuna believed himself to be a monster, and he believed that it made him above everything human. tears, sadness, anger, humor, anything tangibly human. yet, you never saw him as a monster.
to you, he was just a human, capable of being loved, deserved even.
so, sukuna began to truly believe he was a human too, acted like one. he slept next to you as if you were truly husband and wife. you shared tea together, you held his many hands, and chatted his ear off despite his grumbles. however, he never showed it outright. the only time he'd ever let a crack of humanity slip through that rough exterior was in the dead of night, when he was sure you'd never wake up.
he'd slowly stroke your hair, like you were delicate flower he had managed to pluck without harming, because deep down he knew that at the end of the day no matter how much he'd tell himself otherwise? he'd still never be human, not one like you.
good things never last long to an immortal residing in a temporary world.
sukuna ryomen noticed the first cracks in your fortieth summer.
it was nothing usual at first. you were a human, and humans were frail beings.
sometimes you paused when you shouldn't have had to. you preferred to lean against his while you and him sauntered around the sprawling gardens around the shrine. you claimed to cling to his warmth, and he wanted to believe you. he wanted to believe that smile of yours, but.. the corners of your eyes crinkled deeper then before.
sukuna ryomen was no stranger to death and rot. he has watched corpses crumble to nothing and return back to the earth like that person never even existed before.
he knew what was coming. but foolishly, he pretended otherwise. maybe, just maybe if he believed hard enough, he too, could make time bend to his will, like he had with every other force on this temporary world.
the cracks spread father then he could anticipate.
your steps grew more unsteady, and he could feel the slight tremble in his form. you no longer ran out to the gardens to smell the morning dew, and bring fresh flowers into the estate just because.
on quiet evenings the two of you used to share in the gardens where you curled in his lap and talked his ear off about things insignificant to him, you began to fall asleep. gone were the days you would chat animatedly to him, the gestures, and that infuriating smile on your face that always seemed to fool him.
you were calmer, like you no longer had the energy to spare on something as trivial as talking loudly.
one of his large hands stroked the top of your head, the familiar gesture you had grown accustomed to over the years. he had now even begun doing it when you weren't asleep, which for sukuna ryomen, meant a lot.
"you've grown weak." he ruffles your hair particularly hard when the sun had finally dipped beneath the horizon, leaving only small strokes of pink and orange in an otherwise dark sky.
if he wasn't a coward, he would've said that it looked like your fleeting life, or what remained of it.
your hand, now wrinkled and heavy from a lifetime of use, went to one of his free hands.
"that's what happens when you get older, not that you would know." you sighed, smiling while you said it. that same smile that always made the corner of your eyes crinkle, but the crinkles just kept growing larger. despite the years, that same smile still made him feel something in his chest.
"you're not allowed to die." he grumbled under his breath, but sukuna never showed his face while he said it.
"everyone does, sukuna. that's how life works… and it's exactly what makes it precious." all you did was squeeze his a bit tighter, because what do you say to a man who refuses to entertain the thought of your end?
"i'll never forgive you if you do. i'll curse your spirit so you'll haunt me forever." his voice was rougher now, filled with some unspoken emotion bubbling up sukuna has no business in feeling or indulging.
his hand gripped yours tighter, the claws grazing your skin slightly, but it didn't hurt. even now, with your end nearing, he still treated you like that same delicate flower like decades ago.
"you know, not everything needs to be fought. the flowers don't fight the winter... they just accept, and bloom again the next year." your free hand rubbed his arm soothingly, as if that could lessen the blow.
this is where you were wrong, because a foolish human could never understand. everything was meant to be fought. anything could be torn apart or remolded into something he could overcome, something he could conquer.
and for the first time in sukuna ryomen's life, he finally came to learn that there is one thing that you cannot fight— time.
the last night came slowly, as more and more seasons passed, he slowly watched you wilt. from a bright and blooming flower you became... smaller.
you had more energy today then you had in years, and he finally knew your time was running out, and it was running out fast.
you turned to face him in the futon that you had shared for decades, now worn with use like everything in this estate.
"do you remember the day you first met me?" you hummed, fixing his long locks of pink hair that cascaded down his face.
"tch.. yes, of course i do." he remarked, but it lacked the usual mocking or poetic tone. he pulled you close, crushing you in his arms while his hand rubbed the top of your head.
you were different, yet all the same. you still looked at him with that same smile, the same one he fell in love with, you were still the woman he fell in love with. just now, you were more frail.
"i'm glad i loved you, sukuna." you mumbled into his chest, smiling against him. old habits die hard, even now.
for a long time, sukuna did not move. he held you in his arms, as if that was enough to keep you here, next to him, even for a while longer.
you didn't move anymore, and that warmth of yours was gone. he knew it was over.
he couldn't lie to himself anymore, that he was a human, that you would grow old with him, and he too, would eventually leave this life with you.
but monsters do not have the luxury of observing time like humans.
the realization was suffocating. it wormed its way up his throat, and his arms tightened around your lifeless body.
"even if you die..." sukuna paused, feeling something wet prick the skin on his face.
"even if you die, i'll forgive you... woman." he words came out strained. more strained then they ever had in his many years of living.
for the first time in his long, and limitless life, sukuna ryomen realized that he didn't need to be, a monster. he didn't need to be human. he just wanted to be yours, just for a season longer. he'd like to watch the flowers bloom after winter with you, just one more time.
and when spring came once again for what seemed to be one of the many he'd see time and time again?
Not the first. But the first where you truly felt there was nothing left to hide. No shame, no should I, no lingering doubts. There was only you two — sweaty, starved for each other, your hearts beating in one frantic rhythm.
Nanami lay beneath you, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, lips parted. He looked at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. That you were the one above him — hair a mess, breasts rising and falling, breath hot and heavy against his throat.
You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, leaning down to catch his lower lip between your teeth.
He shivered.
You kissed him deeper, more confidently. You felt his hands tighten your my hips like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hold you still or pull you further into him. Your body moved deliberately, sliding against him, feeling him grow even harder beneath the thin fabric. He was hot. Solid. Ready.
„Fuck… Y/N,” he groaned, as if your name was a spell he was destined to repeat in ecstasy.
Your fingers slid down his stomach, feeling the tension in every muscle under his skin. He was beautiful. Every inch of him reacted to you like music under a violinist’s touch. Your hand moved lower, over the fabric of his boxers, until you felt him — heavy, throbbing beneath you. Nanami let out a ragged breath, his hips lifting toward your touch unconsciously.
You smiled. And then you slid your hand beneath the fabric.
He was hard, hot, and impossibly smooth. Nanami cursed softly — incoherently — his eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slowly at first, then with a little more certainty. You watched his breathing quicken, his eyes flutter closed, his whole body responding to your rhythm.
„I want you…” he murmured. „I want you so damn much.”
„Just a little longer,” you whispered, and slid down his body.
You kissed your way down his chest, then his stomach. When you reached his hips, you caught the waistband with your teeth. His hands twisted in the sheets. You tugged his boxers down slowly, savoring every second, until he was exposed — beautiful, hard, entirely yours.
You took him in your hand again, then your mouth, slow and intentional. Nanami let out a strangled growl, his head falling back, hips twitching, though he held himself still for you. You licked, kissed, teased him with your tongue from base to tip, until he trembled with every movement. You loved it. The way you could give him pleasure. The way, in that moment, he was only yours.
„Stop Y/N fuck, or I’ll—” he rasped. „If you keep going…”
You smiled with him still in your mouth, then climbed back up his body, feeling him rub against your thighs — wet, hot, ready. You were soaked already. Your whole body pulsed. You ached for him.
„I want you inside me,” you whispered in his ear.
„Fuck… yes.”
You sank down on him slowly, guiding him into you. You felt him stretch you open, inch by inch, muscles tightening around him — but there was no pain. Only tension. Blissful, electric tension. You took him in, completely, until he was buried deep.
You both froze like that, him inside you, you above him.
His hands cupped your breasts, harshly squeezing, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they stiffened. You moved my hips. Slowly. Again. And again. Until rhythm took over. Your bodies met with soft, wet sounds, your name tangled with his breath, your moans echoing in your ears like distant thunder.
You were close.
Every part of you tightened. His hands slid to your ass, helping you move faster, harder. You melted into one hot, endless wave. You felt everything twist into a single, perfect point.
„Kento…” you breathed. „Don’t stop…”
With every movement, it became harder to catch your breath. Nanami was thrusting up to meet you, deeper, harder. Your bodies collided with wet, rhythmic sounds, and you were so close. So damn close.
His fingers found your clit and began to circle it in time with the motion of your hips. Your nails dug into his shoulders.
„Don’t stop… don’t—” you moaned, feeling the wave building fast, unstoppable.
Nanami growled deeply, but then his hands gripped your hips firmly, and he propped himself up on his elbows.
„Wait, love… just for a second,” he said through gritted teeth, like every second without moving was a battle against instinct.
You blinked, surprised, panting. „What is it?”
„I want to see you. All of you. And… make sure you’re okay. That it’s not hurting…” His gaze held more than just lust — it was laced with tenderness, concern, like he was touching something sacred.
You smiled despite the trembling in your thighs. You leaned down and kissed him softly.
„I’m okay. It’s perfect. But… if you want to—”
You didn’t need to finish. Kento shifted carefully, helping you slide off his lap, and gently turned you onto your back. He settled between your thighs, bracing himself on his forearms. His hands found your face again — his thumb tracing over your cheek as if making sure you were really there, really his.
„Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he whispered.
You could only nod, breathless. „Yes.”
Then he pushed back inside you — deeply, with one smooth, fluid thrust. Your whole body responded — your arms tightened around him, your hips lifted toward him. He was in you, over you, completely — his hair brushing your cheek, his breath mingling with yours.
„Gosh…” he breathed, moving slowly, reverently. „You’re so beautiful…”
With every thrust, you got closer. You could feel yourself tightening around him, your body recognizing only one name, one shape, one rhythm — his.
Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist. Your nails bit into his back again, but he didn’t stop. He kissed you — your lips, your neck, your collarbone — between movements, as if he wanted to mark you from the inside out.
„Now… Kento… I—”
„I know. Together.” His forehead pressed to yours. „I want to with you…”
And then it hit. The wave crashing from somewhere deep inside. Your body broke open beneath him — you screamed his name, trembling, pulsing around him, and he thrust once more, deeply, hanging there on the edge.
His moan was low, rough, broken. His whole body went taut, then shook with mine. You felt him release inside you — giving me everything.
„I love you,” he said then. So simply. So naturally. As if it was the last truth that needed to be spoken.
And you knew that whatever was between you two… Was only just beginning.
Sugar daddy!Nanami who spoils you like crazy. Buys you anything you want despite the price. He doesn’t give a fuck if it cost milion, he just wants to see that pretty smile of yours.
Sugar daddy!Nanami who owns a huge company and often takes you to his office to "spend" time with you.
„F-fuck,” you gasped for air as his balls were hitting against your ass. His cock buried deep inside your creamy pussy.
Nanami had you bend over his desk. One hand on your mouth the other gripping your waist so tight you were sure there’ll be bruises.
„You— fuck , like that, huh?” He chuckled. „When I fuck you like this.”
You nodded. You couldn’t speak.
„Use your voice or I’ll make you,” he rasped firmly, voice deep while gripping your hair.
„Yes! Fuck, I love when daddy fucks me l-like a slut!”
„Thats what I thought,” he replied shortly, slapping your ass leaving a hand print on your skin.
Sugar daddy!Nanami who is still a respectful gentleman and always gives the best aftercare to his baby. Cleans you up, helps you dress and gives you the softest kiss on your cheeks and forehead while caressing your hair with one hand.
„You did so good for daddy,” he murmured tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. „You always do.”
Sugar daddy!Nanami who loves to take you on vacation to his house in Malaysia. He always takes you to the beach, buys you expensive drinks and ends your day in bed.
Sugar daddy!Nanami who is very smart. Whenever you need something or you have a question you comes to him — he’s like your walking encyclopedia.
„Something you want to know?” He asked once when he saw you frowning while reading something on your phone.
„How can I tell if a diamond is real or not? Is there a way to recognize it?” You asked, curious.
„Come here, I’ll show you.”
Sugar daddy!Nanami who owns three huge mansions, and one penthouse. You always get lost there because of how huge the place is.
Sugar daddy!Nanami who has jacuzzi in one of his mansions. He loves to relax there with you after a stressful day at work.
„They make me so fucking mad. They can’t do anything on their own,” he grunted while closing his eyes. „They keep calling me and calling, I cannot have a single day off.”
„Fire them,” you purred massaging his muscles.
He chuckled. „I wish I could, sweetheart. But someone needs to work for your new pair of shoes, huh?”
You rolled you eyes at him. „Isn’t your work enough?” You asked sitting on his lap under the water.
„You know my money is yours, right?”
You nodded.
He placed his hands on your waits and sucked on your left boob making you whimper. Your legs instinctively closed.
„…but others work for you too.”
His fingers found your wet folds under the water.
„Kento—" you gasped.
„Shh, keep quiet for me.”
He found your clit and circled his fingers just right. Made you but your lip so hard you thought it’ll bleed.
You started moving your hips, so desperate for him — for his cock.
„Tell me what you want?” He whispered into your ear.
„Fuck me, daddy. Please.”
„Thats what I thought. Good girl,” he slapped your bare ass and pushed his cock painfully slowly inside of you.
No matter how many times you two had sex you could never get used to his length and thickness. His tip kissed your cervix perfectly each time.
Sugar daddy!Nanami who takes you to his company parties, showing you off to others and enjoying how men get jealous of you.
Sugar daddy!Nanami who always buys you silk night gowns with matching pair of lingerie. He loves seeing you all dressed up for him each night. But mostly he enjoys ripping the lingerie off with his teeth, always apologizing that he’ll buy you new pair.
„I’ll buy you new pair tomorrow darling, but now spread your legs for me.”
Dilf!Toji who wasn’t interested in you at first. He couldn’t care less about someone who was much younger than him
Dilf!Toji who started to see you in random places. Near his work, during a walk, in the supermarket, even after he walked his son to the kindergarten and you were there with your baby brother
Dilf!Toji who talked to you for the first time when one of the dads was bothering you when you were taking your brother back home.
„She’s too young for you dude,” Toji snorted towards the man while putting beanie on Megumis head.
„Mind your own business,” the guy replied clearly getting mad.
„Oh it is my business when you’re bothering underage girls while having a damn kid and a wife. Wouldn’t you want her to know?”
„I-it’s really fine,” you said quickly blushing slightly.
Toji gave you one look that shut you up. The weird guy walked away with his daughter muttering something to himself.
Dilf!Toji who gave you his number after that "just in case" something happens.
Dilf!Toji who texted you the same night asking if you want to take your brother sometimes to hang out with Megumi on the playground.
Dilf!Toji who wore his favorite cologne and new leather jacket trying to impress you despite his age (he wasn’t even that old — mid 40s — but he always says he’s so old that he has some grey hair already)
Dilf!Toji who smirked to himself when he saw you in that cute little dress you wore trying to hold himself back not to get bricked up
Dilf!Toji who couldn’t stop staring at you as you both sat on the bench watching the kids play
Dilf!Toji who was asking many questions just to see you smile
„So, you like icecream?” He asked and you nodded shyly.
„Do you study?”
„You like to work out sometimes?”
„What’s your middle name?”
„Do you have any other siblings?”
„You like candies?”
„Dogs or cats?”
Dilf!toji who called you 'sweetheart' and almost made you wet
Dilf!Toji who drove you and your baby brother home after the boys were done playing
Dilf!Toji who kissed your cheek and asked if he’ll see you again
„See you next time? But maybe without your brother?”
Dilf!Toji who had to drive home fast because the bulge in his pants was hurting him
Dilf!Toji who after put Megumi to sleep jerked himself off on the couch to the image of you in his head
Dilf!Toji who never came so hard in his life
Dilf!Toji who had a wet dream like a damn teenager about fucking you raw and woke up bricked up again
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