hi everyone who still follows me, it’s utterlyzouiam (or 1derland, if youve followed me since 2011)
i havent been on this page in many years, i decided to come back to this site but under the conditions of posting solely anime related things! so feel free to unfollow me as your feeds will now be different.
Summary: Reader settles in for a quiet night of people watching, deals with some unwanted advances, and has an encounter with a very handsome and very dangerous man.
Notes: Toji fucks reader with a gun, don't say I didn't warn you.
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Gunplay/Gun Kink, Porn With Plot, Bad Flirting, Some OCs, Violence, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, One Night Stands, People Watching
MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY
As you enter your local haunt, the crowd is a predictable mix of familiar faces, familiar faces plus one, and a decent helping of newbies either on their own or in intimate gatherings. It’s a nice place to spend a weeknight, somewhere to unwind and at least be around other people, even if you have no intention of speaking to any of them. Besides, it feels a little less lonely to drink in a room of strangers versus on your own. A more acceptable way to put an end to a stressful day - in your mind at least.
Just like many evenings before this one, you order a drink, pay, and gesture to a table once the bartender starts on your drink. It's a nice spot near enough to the bar but far enough from the entrance that the cool night air won’t reach you as people come and go, and you’re grateful it’s still available for you despite the prime location. Once seated and waiting, your evening ritual starts as it always does: you open your book, tucking the receipt you’d used as a bookmark somewhere into the back pages, and make a start at the chapter you’d left off at.
It’s a formality, really, a display of productivity even in the face of the inevitable. Soon enough the inevitable meets you head on as you find yourself scanning the same paragraphs over and over, not quite processing them, before you give in to people watching as you always do. The thought flutters through your distracted mind of if the other regulars noticed how long you seemed to be stuck on the same book, but you didn’t really mind them making the same kinds of judgements about you that you did about them. It was only fair that you might entertain them as others had entertained you.
Your small but harmless voyeuristic streak puts you in good company in a place like this, there were always a few people dotted around here going in and out of their own little worlds - readers, writers, first dates, late night workers softening the sting of excessive overtime with a drink to nurse through the hours. Perfectly anonymous but perfectly friendly. So you lower the book to rest on the table, still holding it open for the sake of pretence, and take in tonight’s crowd in closer detail.
Vodka Cran, the university student who usually came in earlier in the night to finish up work, and ended her session with a vodka cran as a post-work pregame. She was originally Rainbow Glasses to you because of her habit of coordinating her rotating pairs of oversized glasses to her colourful outfits, but in the end Vodka Cran just sounded cuter.
First Date Andy, the guy who brought all of his first dates here. You were rooting for him, you really were, especially for the dates that he was extra fidgety for. Unfortunately the lack of confidence was always palpable, even from across the bar.
The Debbies, a group of older women who met weekly for a quiet chat and a few G&Ts. Their namesake was more their actual names as at least two of them would be greeted with a cheery “hiya Deb!”
Then you moved onto the less familiar faces, looking for someone who might be somewhat interesting: another student looking bleary-eyed and typing away on his laptop, a businessman with his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair scrolling through his full-brightness phone, an older woman with a glass of barely-touched wine staring out at the streetlights through the front of the establishment.
Then, your eyes settle on a man perched atop one of the stools at the tall tables in the back of the bar. His appearance is striking enough that your glances become much less covert. He isn’t doing anything inherently more interesting than anyone else there, just sitting alone with a drink in his hand and reading through something on his phone. Still, you find yourself immediately captivated.
People watching very rarely turned into ogling for you but this time you just can’t help yourself, only moving your eyes away when the bartender sets your drink down in front of you, on top of a small black cocktail napkin. You thank them, shutting your book and forgetting to move your makeshift bookmark back in place as you do, sliding the drink in front of you to cradle your hands round as you peek back at the man. You counted yourself lucky that you already happened to be sitting facing him or you’d have embarrassed yourself with how your eyes looked him up and down, you were even more lucky that he was sitting so you were only seeing him from the side, head on and he surely could have noticed the intensity of your gaze.
Even in profile he’s eye-catching: tall, dressed casually in all black, dark hair only kept out of his eyes by his long lashes, but most of all you notice just how strong he looks. His shirt isn’t even that tight, hanging loosely over what you just know would be a trim waist, but his shoulders and arms are absolutely making themselves a spectacle, pulling the fabric taut over their girth. Unwilling to fully give in to being a creep, you force your attention back onto his face and you can just make out a small scar across his lips. You wonder how he got it, mind ready to build little stories around him as it did with most strangers.
Had he gotten into a fight? Maybe the scar was proof they weren’t just glamour muscles and that he knew just how to use them. Surely he was strong enough to beat most anyone? Or maybe he fell out of a tall tree as a kid, was he the adventurous type? Your thoughts are halted as he glances over in your direction and you quickly avert your gaze, looking towards the entrance as you take a sip of your drink.
While you busy yourself looking elsewhere, your heart beats a little faster: both from how attractive the newcomer is and from the embarrassment of nearly being caught watching him. Even as you glance around the room in the general direction of others, your mind is on him. You’d have liked to have seen what the man ordered to drink, to maybe use that to make a slightly different judgement on his character and redeem yourself for objectifying a complete stranger, but his hands were large enough that they’d been obscuring the liquid in the glass he had in front of him. At the end of the day though, people watching was very much a superficial sport, so the man’s incredible physique remains the basis of his nickname tonight (and possibly future nights, should you be lucky enough to ogle him again). Gunshow.
Just as you start to risk glancing back in Gunshow’s direction, the door to the bar opens and in walks a man already making a spectacle of himself. He’s small, red-faced, dressed in what you assume is his finest night out attire, and smiling as though he’d already been cackling at whatever internal monologue was driving his actions - all things you objectively have no problem with. You understand just how many possibly unfair judgments you could sit there making of people and try to generally keep any nicknames positive, but you have a hunch the man isn’t deserving of such grace as he makes his way to the bar, smacks his hand against it impatiently, and asks for “something expensive.”
Everything about him seems to telegraph that he had not picked up on the vibe of the place he was walking into.
It happens occasionally, this is a place that serves alcohol and is open fairly late into the night. People stumble in mid bar crawl, having wandered a block or so away from where the real nightlife is around here. Or someone gets a little far into their pregame before moving onto a more lively location. Eventually though, they leave. It’s a fine place for quiet nights and introverts, not so much for someone looking to party. You can only hope he’ll get the picture sooner rather than later so you can return to your more pleasant daydreams.
As he waits for his drink, he turns his attention to the nearest pair of girls, sending a double brow raise and a small greeting of a head tilt in their direction. He doesn’t seem to notice that the attention is not returned as he receives his drink and throws a few bills on the bar instead of placing it in the barkeep’s waiting hand. He finishes half the drink in the few steps it takes for him to insert himself into the group, and your nickname is solidified. Dickhead.
Even halfway across the room you can hear him asking how they’re doing, directing compliments on their bodies at no specific person, casting a wide net. Though much younger than him, the girls waste no time entertaining his antics. One girl moves herself to stand slightly in front of the other, and whatever she says has him frowning, lower lip poked out as he gives his best puppy dog eyes. He seems to start bargaining as the other girl shakes her head, rolling her eyes and waving him away. Finally, the first girl puts her hand in his face, loudly and firmly dismissing him.
Fortunately the direct approach works as he backs away, tossing out a retraction to his earlier unwanted compliments as the girls ignore him. Unfortunately for every other female-presenting person in the bar his confidence doesn’t quite seem to be knocked as he then approaches another patron. This time it’s a girl who is alone and seems to have been actually reading, unlike you. He seats himself in front of her, waving his hand between her face and her book and beginning a second attempt.
Even with how much of a show Dickhead is making of himself, you find it easy to look away from him when you feel your twinge of annoyance at the antics start to add an unpleasant edge to the relaxing you’d come out to do. Scanning across the crowd you see those in the room who weren’t locked in conversation sneaking furtive glances at him too, probably also hoping the man would leave sooner rather than later. Resting your eyes on the spot you’d given a bit too much focus on earlier you’re slightly disappointed to find the seat empty, but the smallest bit of excitement simmers in your stomach when you see the drink was basically full. Maybe Gunshow would come back? Had he gone to the bathroom? Or dipped out for a cigarette? Would the smell of smoke put you off approaching him?
You smile to yourself for entertaining the thought, as though you might have eventually built up the motivation to go speak to him. Not here, not tonight (not any night). There were already enough unwanted advances being thrown around.
The squeak of a chair dragging across the floor pulls you from your thoughts and you see the woman Dickhead was speaking to stand and begin tucking her book back into her bag. He’s still talking even as she prepares to leave until she takes a page out of the earlier girl’s book, putting her hand up in his face and loudly asserting that she had a boyfriend. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but at least it seemed to get the man to give her another sad look and leave her be as she walks out in a huff. You avert your gaze, as do most women near you, turning their attention back to their books, phones, or friends, as you all are briefly connected with an unspoken wish that the guy would leave you all the fuck alone.
His eyes lock with yours for just a second as you take a gravely miscalculated risk trying to see what his next move was and you groan as you look down, already caught as he begins approaching you. You didn’t appreciate a spot on this guy’s hit list any more than you’d appreciated him completely wrecking the usual soothing hum of low chatter that had come to be your favourite way to unwind for months now.
“Heyyyy.”
With just that one greeting it’s as if he’s speaking to you like he knows you. He certainly doesn’t know you, and won’t be getting to know you tonight as you’re quick to show him you aren’t willing to entertain him. You give him a once over fast enough to show he wasn’t worth looking at much longer than that before rolling your eyes as you fix them in a general direction clearly away from him. As with the others before you, he doesn’t get the memo (or more likely chooses to ignore it) and sets the remains of his drink down at your table before seating himself across from you.
“Want a drink?” The previous handful of rejections have somehow made him bolder as he waves his hand towards the bar before you even have a chance to reply.
“I have a drink.” You shake your head at the approaching bartender, who shrugs and goes back to leaning against the bar.
“Aw, too bad. I got money to burn tonight.” It was said with a happy lilt that made it clear he thought the mention of money would certainly win you over. It did not.
“Go burn it somewhere else.”
He laughs like you made some kind of joke, or like he wasn’t even listening, then tries to rest his hand on yours. He doesn’t get the chance to make contact before you’re snatching your hand away and putting it in his face, effectively serving him a hattrick of similar rejections. “I’m trying to have a quiet night, so you can leave me alone now.”
“All alone? In a bar? C’mon now.”
You serve him yet another eyeroll, accompanied by a scoff for good measure. “I’m not interested. I’m not going to be interested. So let me finish my drink. Alone.”
“You got a boyfriend or something?”
“No, and I don’t want one.”
“How about just a friend?”
You’ve had enough, so you say your mental goodbyes as you collect your things - goodbye to the calm evening intended to clear your head, goodbye to the other half of your drink, goodbye Gunshow, and definitely goodbye to Dickhead. Unfortunately Dickhead decides he won’t take a third rejection and stands too, starting to follow you as you walk out - unashamed of basically begging his way right through the bar even as you approach the door.
“I just wanna talk.”
You’re so focused on getting out (and hopefully not having to take the long and loud route home to avoid this asshole following you) that you don’t even notice the man heading you both off at the pass, making himself known once your hand touches the handle of the door.
“I don’t think they want to talk to you.”
The voice has both you and Dickhead snapping your heads to look at who had decided to join your conversation, and Dickhead is a fraction enough quicker that you see the terror on his face before you turn to see Gunshow had indeed returned. And returned to save you an even bigger hassle than you were already dealing with, it seemed.
“How about the two of us talk instead?” Gunshow puts his hand on Dickhead’s shoulder, just shy of his neck. It’s as if he’s grabbing him by the scruff as the smaller man is immediately overcome with a barely perceptible tremor.
“I- I-“ he’s suddenly much less wordy, apparently not so brave when dealing with other men.
“Let’s go.” Gunshow guides the man out the door, and you’re left standing in the bar just as shocked and confused as Dickhead looks as he’s pushed out the door. As the door slowly shuts behind them, Gunshow shoots you a smile that has the blood rushing to your face as he gives his parting words, “You have a good night.”
The door closes, and with them walking away it’s as if the half of the bar breathes a collective sigh of relief and returns to their evening, something you’re now free to do as well thanks to the mysterious man.
You stand there, stuck between two minds. What would happen to Dickhead? Would he just get walked down the block and told to fuck off? Or herded to a bar much more likely to match his energy for the evening? Somehow there was something more to that interaction than met the eye, like it wasn’t just Gunshow being a Good Samaritan. You know you should just sit back down and continue your evening as planned, content with wondering over the event until it becomes a footnote. Then again, you’d never been one to mind your business, so you make your mind up to satisfy your curiosity of at least seeing where they were going and walk out into the night.
As you look down the empty street, wondering if they’d already turned down one of the many side roads, a million thoughts rush through your head. What would you say if you did catch up to them? ‘Thank you’ to Gunshow and ‘Fuck you’ to Dickhead? Were you just going to ruin the mystique of the man? Had he really come to save you? Of the thoughts you’d toyed with surrounding the man’s character, should knight in shining armour have been one of them?
Then, you hear a loud clang and a man yelping, followed by what you could already recognize as Gunshow.
“You’re really out here spending my money?”
Oh.
That makes the interaction seem less heroic and more frightening, as the logical side of your brain tries to will you to turn around and take the long way home. Instead, you take unsteady steps towards where the sound came from, the side alley next to the bar, until you freeze as you peek round the corner and the two men come into view.
Dickhead was lying against a dumpster, dented from what was presumably the impact you’d just heard before. Gunshow was standing over him, letting out a sigh not dissimilar to each of the women he’d already wasted the time of this evening. He backhands him - a move so small that still manages to leave the man bleeding. How much money had this man taken that he was getting his ass beat about 4 feet from a public street?
“What the fuck, what the fuck-“ he’s frantic, taking the pause in violence as a chance to speak, “Were you following me?!”
Gunshow is only amused, “Actually, no. I hadn’t gotten around to that yet.” He crouches down slowly, and Dickhead puts his hands out as if that alone would stop him. “But here you are.”
“Look I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you, I just knew I was supposed to meet someone to give them the rest of the money and-“
“And ran off instead?”
Gunshow laughs, amused by his audacity. Dickhead laughs too, as if silently forced, but his eyes remain steady on the larger man in front of him, terrified.
“Toji I mean it, I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it was-“
Gunshow, or Toji as you’d now learned, backhands Dickhead again and it occurs to you that with this information it was probably time to back away slowly. Instead, you pause a moment more as Toji takes out his annoyance on the man in front of him. You’d seen your share of violence before, drunken brawls especially, but this was different. The man was calm, almost too calm, but then again it seemed just that easy as he left the man beneath him bloodied with just a few open-handed slaps.
Worryingly, you can’t quite find the will to walk away. Even more worryingly, as Gunshow’s muscles tense and flex with each hit, forearms freed from the sleeves he must’ve rolled up while dragging Dickhead around the corner, you find the previous wave of fear draining away for something very much not in line with self preservation. It isn’t the time for people-watching, and it absolutely isn’t the time for being so unbelievably thirsty but your feet aren’t becoming any less glued to their spot.
Dickhead seems to not have the same hesitation as he gathers the strength within the barrage of hits he was taking to try and run, only to be grabbed by his shirt and hauled up to meet Toji’s eyes.
Any sense of satisfaction you might have gotten out of Dickhead being put in his place is drowned in fear that you would be a potential witness to the onslaught as Toji reaches behind himself, pushing his shirt up to pull a gun from his waistband.
It’s as if you’re not in your body, unable to fathom what’s happening in front of you anymore than you can fathom you still sticking around to watch despite very much not wanting to watch a man die.
“You don’t pay people what you owe them, you don’t answer your phone, you harass random women, is there anything about you that isn’t annoying?”
“I can pay you tomorrow, I just have to-“
He moves so fast you only see a flash of metal before the smaller man is sent reeling by the blow, whimpering and putting his hands out to keep his already bloodied face from meeting the pavement. It doesn’t have an opportunity to as he’s caught by the collar of his shirt before he hits the ground. Another pathetic noise is let loose as he’s slammed against the dumpster again.
“You can pay me now. If I have to track you down again, I won’t be this gentle with you.”
He called this gentle?
“You call this gentle!?”
A flash of annoyance briefly overcomes your state of shock as you’re met with a strong distaste for even having a fleeting thought in common with the guy, but the laugh his attacker lets out has you breathless yet again, licking your lips as if you could taste the sound on the air.
“Do you want to find out how rough I can be?” He hits the man again with the gun, not giving him time to recover as the blows continue until he’s screaming out for mercy.
“My coat! It’s in my coat! Please! It’s all in here!” The ‘please’ is unnecessary as Toji is already rifling through his pockets before the sentence is even finished. He takes a few steps back to count the bills he’d collected, surprisingly adept considering he was doing it with a gun still in hand.
He raises a brow as he finishes flipping through the small folded bills and the smaller man is immediately emptying his pants pockets, shaking as he begins uncrumpling the money and attempting to flatten it as much as possible before Toji rips it from his hands and adds it to his handful. “Hm, lucky you.”
He makes a neat stack and folds it before pocketing it, waving the gun in the general direction of the street to dismiss the bleeding man in front of him, who wastes no time in fleeing the alleyway. You back up and try to flatten yourself against the brick facade of the bar as Dickhead exits the alley and trips over his own feet a few times on the way down the road. You’re grateful he hadn’t noticed you as he ran the opposite direction of the corner you were hiding against, and as you take quiet steps back to try to finally leave the scene you realise you were celebrating a bit too soon.
“Did you enjoy the show?”
You freeze, and jump as you look back and see Toji was already rounding the corner, closing the distance between the two of you. There’s a small sense of relief that the gun is nowhere to be seen as he approaches you, but you were only slightly less concerned about what his bare hands could do.
Then, with him now only a few steps away from you, you notice he didn’t look quite as calm as he had from several feet away in the darkened alley. In an instant your mind is hurled back in the direction it was stuck in earlier. With how fit he is you suspect he’s not panting from the exertion. Beating that man was surely no more effort for him than slapping away a gnat would be for you. No, it was all from the excitement. Your eyes were all over him even more intently than they’d been inside, but this time taking in all of the signs that this was nothing but a thrill for him. His dilated pupils, lips curled into a smile, you could swear you could have measured his heart rate from the bulging veins along his arms and - what the fuck? Was he hard?
You can’t believe what you’re seeing, even worse you can’t believe what you’re doing as you don’t even try to stop your eyes from lingering long enough to draw a laugh from the man. The sound is breathy, low, and rumbling - much more relaxed than he now looked.
“Adrenaline will do that.”
“Oh.” You’re not sure what else to say, surely not what was on your mind.
“You scared?”
There was fear intertwined with all of the feelings coursing through your body, but the real thing clouding your judgement was much more potent than that. You shake your head and finally bring your eyes back up to meet his.
“You sure?” He wasn’t convinced, neither were you. But you stand by your words.
“Yeah.”
The hungry smile he flashes has your pussy clenching and you swear he knows it from the way his eyes sparkle at the sight of whatever unknown tells you must have. He takes a deep breath, letting it out with a sense of finality, putting a period on what you’ve just witnessed as he tilts his head towards the door to the bar.
“You can go,” he rests his hand on the waistband of his pants, “if you want.”
He knows you don’t, it’s a formality. A way out, should you want it. The way he loops his thumb into his belt and lets his fingertips hang below, just brushing against the bulge in his pants, feels like an invitation. Though as reckless as you had been so far during this encounter you want a little more assurance you were right to move all caution to the back burner.
“What if I don’t want to go?”
The steps he’d taken earlier were completely silent, but now he lets the full weight of his shoes hitting pavement be heard, ringing in your ears along with all the other thoughts you were ignoring in favour of making bad decisions. “I thought you said you wanted to spend your night alone?”
He’d heard that? “Maybe not.”
Another smile from him, and you must show whatever tell you had again as his smile widens. “What do you want to do then?”
“Come to my place?”
Toji’s brows raise high. “Didn’t take you for the type to bring dangerous men home.”
Something about him being so taken aback has you feeling like you’d won something other than the chance to have a strange man in your home that is as likely to rob or kill you as he was to fuck you. It has you feeling bold, maybe even stupid.
“What type did you take me for?”
“The type to run off once you got your share of watching me. Guess peepin’ in the bar and watching me handle my business wasn’t enough, huh?”
You feel the blood rushing to your face, not expecting to be exposed for your nosiness, but then you hadn’t expected any of the things happening so far tonight. The blood rushes straight back between your legs as Toji puts a hand onto the back of your neck, leaning down til his nose touches yours.
“But if you want to be reckless tonight, who am I to stop you?” His lips brush yours and he stops to let you set the pace. It’s another chance to hesitate, to run, but you’re not interested in that.
Parted lips and a shaky sigh are all he needs from you before he’s pressing himself against you, tongue moving past your lips and into your mouth. There’s a fleeting sense of relief that he doesn’t taste like cigarettes, though the musings you’d had inside the bar were soon miles away as his other hand finds yours and guides you to feel his cock through his pants - big, hard, intimidating, and all you wanted right now. Just like him.
He pulls away and the last of your sense keeps you from whining at your need to have him touching you again before he pulls your mind back on track.
“Your place, right?”
Right.
-
The large hand on your waist as you walk through the darkened streets keeps your mind buzzing with the high of what had happened and what was about to happen. You were grateful for it because you were too excited to risk logic kicking in and reminding you that this was a terrible idea. When you walk past a few people you think of how normal you must look to them if they cared to glance your way - just a couple on a nighttime walk. Maybe heading home from a date night. It makes it that much more thrilling that only the two of you know the true nature of the evening’s events.
So thrilling that as you reach your apartment your last chance to stop yourself from doing something stupid doesn’t even cross your mind. Getting the key in the lock without visibly trembling with anticipation is the closest to a concern that you have.
Once you’re inside and your door is shut and locked he’s on you like he’s as desperate for it as you are. His hands grip your ass hard, pulling you flush against him, mouth on yours, biting at your lips and grinding against you until you’re panting into his mouth. You’re brazen, running your hands over his abs, squeezing at his pecs. His hips are glued to yours so in lieu of getting your hands back on his bulge you wrap them round his hips. You let out a frantic giggle as you grab his ass and find the barest hint of softness before your fingers squeeze and meet the firm muscle beneath, then when you start to move your hands upwards towards his lower back he’s stopping you by the wrists in an instant.
“Ah-“ he chides, letting your wrists go and breaking your frenzied string of kisses. He pulls the gun out from where it had been tucked in the waistband of his trousers, “careful now.”
You hadn’t noticed when he’d put it away earlier, but you certainly hadn’t forgotten about it. The way you practically drool at the sight of it doesn’t go unnoticed and Toji slowly turns it, watching your lashes flutter as the soft glow of the street lights coming in through your windows glimmers along the smooth metal.
“You like guns?”
Apparently tonight you do, with a man like him wielding one. You like it enough that when he brings it towards you and strokes the barrel against your cheek you instinctively turn to press your lips against it, parting them and lightly trailing the tip of your tongue along it. His groans at the sight before him spur you on, and your eyes stay locked onto his as you open wide and lick from hammer to muzzle.
When you take it into your mouth, he sucks air in through his teeth. “It’s loaded…”
The fact that it doesn’t stop you from sucking the cold metal gently, bobbing further down onto it, has Toji baring his teeth, cock twitching against you. His free hand moves to cradle your jaw, backing you further into your apartment until you’re pressed against a wall. He grips you firmly enough to keep the gun from sliding too far towards the back of your throat, but gently enough that once you’re pressed between him and the wall you’re free to bob up and down slowly.
“Tastes good?”
You nod and he pulls the gun from your mouth, replacing it with his tongue. His kisses border on too wet, too rough, but with how worked up you already were you weren’t sure there was really such a thing. The sound of the gun thudding heavily against the wall next to you has your thighs trembling, as he braces himself and roughly tugs at your pants with one hand. You rush to get your shoes off as you help him remove everything, along with your underwear, kicking them off and to the side to give him full access to do whatever he wants with you. When he brings the gun back down and brushes the now warmed barrel against your thigh you’re sure to encourage it with a soft hiss and your hands gripping at his shoulders.
The muzzle stays pointed to the ground as he trails it up and down your skin, smiling as you angle yourself towards it. He licks his lips, swallowing hard as he looks down at you. “I bet you taste good too.”
He strokes the slide of the gun through your folds, and you gasp when the rear sight taps against your swollen clit, well past sensitive and ready.
“You’re kinda fucking crazy, huh?” Maybe you are.
Toji taps the top of the barrel against your pussy and you try not to jump at how heavy it feels against you, even with such controlled strength. When he pulls it back he surveys the wetness you’ve left along it before taking it into his own mouth, deep as he can, sucking your taste off of it. When he pulls it back out he licks his lips, savouring you, and leans in close.
“Me too.”
An attempt to lock lips again is missed as Toji gets down onto his knees in front of you, guiding your legs open wide and sliding the gun against you again. You put your full weight against the wall, already needing the support, and he assists you further by hiking a leg up and over his shoulder. As his tongue presses against your clit his eyes leave yours for what feels like the first time since you’d shut the door behind the two of you. His tongue works in slow circles as he swirls the muzzle against your entrance, squeezing at your thigh. Your hands tangle into his dark hair, gripping at it hard as you rock your hips against him in silent encouragement for him to give you what you needed.
It borders on painful as it enters, but the way he angles it as you clench against the hard metal has your toes curling. That’s all it is, really - something to clench round as he works you over with his tongue, but the thought of it is enough to have you gasping with delight. What it was inside you, what it could do, what the man between your legs could do to you if he felt like it. He didn’t feel like it though. The way he groans into you and laps up your mess makes it clear that of all the wicked little things he could, would, and probably has done in his life what he feels like doing right now is making you cum like you never had before.
You try to take in the sight below you, his lashes oddly pretty against his cheeks as his eyes are shut in bliss, the rest of his handsome face obscured by being so thoroughly buried and busy between your legs. When your eyes do close, head hitting the wall behind you as he speeds up his pace, you think back to the look he gave you when you took the gun into your mouth. Absolutely out of his mind with need, and a need for only you. The fact that you’d made a man like him look like that has your stomach clenching just as much as him giving your clit a hard suck, making you squeal as you look back down at him.
He’s watching you now, small foray into overstimulation having gotten your full attention on his eyes, green irises obscured by just how blown his pupils were with desire at the very sight of you. His low rumble of a groan sends vibrations through you that have you gasping his name, something that seems to please him as the sensation continues with a happy hum.
The sounds your pussy makes as he fucks you with his gun fill the room right alongside your unashamed moans and he has to move a hand from your thigh to his pants, keeping his pace with both weapon and tongue as he frees his cock from it’s uncomfortable confinement. He pumps it roughly, matching the speed of his gun inside of you and growling into your pussy as the heat inside you builds and you start clenching hard enough to hamper his movements. Then, he pulls the gun from inside you, setting it aside, and releases his suction on your clit with a pop as he stands and lifts you from the ground, sliding you onto his awaiting cock.
The movement is swift enough that you barely realise he’s done it until you’re filled to the brim with him, scratching at his back and moaning into his mouth as he bounces you up and down his length. Though you’d well warmed the metal that had been inside you, Toji's heat is something else entirely, soothing the sting with a slight soft give well suited to stretch you out perfectly and stirring you up at the same time.
His big hands grip your ass hard, as though spreading you a little wider would help to accommodate his girth better. Discomfort doesn't matter now though as he gives you strokes that leave the thick head of his cock tugging at your insides, thighs trembling around his waist, senses shattering as your pussy sends waves of static straight down to your toes with each rapid movement.
His deep moans border on growls, they're so frenzied, and the first wave of cum gushing heavy inside sends you the rest of the way over the edge alongside him. You can only hold on tight as he pulls you down in time with his upward thrusts, and if he weren’t fucking you so hard through your orgasm you might have heard the cum he was pumping you full of being forced right back out and falling heavy onto your hardwood floors below. You bury your face in his neck, breathing hard as you try to keep hold of him despite feeling spent from the events of the night.
He’s sensible enough not to step in your combined mess below as he moves down your hall, staying deep inside you while he carries you as if you were light as air.
“Where’s your room?”
You gesture lazily and grip him tighter as he lets go of you with one hand, but you’re held securely as he opens your bedroom door and walks in, setting you onto your bed. He pulls out slowly, rubbing at your hip as you shiver slightly, and sits back, watching more of his cum dripping out of you and onto your covers.
“Should’ve asked before I did that.”
All you can do is shrug, it was the last thing on your mind right now after what had happened, and would remain on the back burner as Toji lies down next to you, staring up at your ceiling and letting the afterglow wash over you both.
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