I was a pawn of God, lost in a world of Lies @wonderfuls-worlds - Tumblr Blog

Customer Service (Toji Fushiguro x Reader)

Hi there ! It's been ages I haven't been here !!! I pop up to post a smut oneshot I wrote about Toji Fushiguro and us <3

Summary : Toji is a gigolo. You're his wealthist customer.

Warning : +18 only !!!

Also I translated it to english, I'm sorry if some mistakes remain </3 And I added a cutline because it was too longggg

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You had needs your husband could not satisfy.

Your marriage was a political arrangement meant to help your father's company, and you had never stopped being reminded that the purpose of your existence was to produce a male heir. You needed nothing more. It was your punishment for being born a woman into a traditional family.

In five years of marriage, you had never managed to give your husband or your parents what they expected of you. Your loveless relationship with your spouse was a burden on your shoulders that exhausted you day after day. He was much older than you, and sex was what you dreaded most every time you looked at your menstrual calendar. The only advantage you got out of it was that he was rich.

As a result, he was often absent from the penthouse you shared, and you had access to a black credit card without him asking any questions. In any case, no matter how much you spent, he didn't care what you did. He was like your father. As long as you couldn't get pregnant, you were as useless as a leaking basket.

Your life changed one Tuesday afternoon. You were having brunch with your friends, other wealthy girls you had met when you were younger, back when your father hosted business dinners. As usual, you did what you did best: smiling, laughing at jokes, encouraging others, without stealing the show. Visible enough to be noticed. Invisible enough to be dispensable.

You weren't particularly close to them and had always felt disconnected from that world. You could not care less about what kind of oil was used to dress the salad, and even less about what qualifications the waitress needed to have dared to swap the dessert fork and the entree fork. But this time, the confidences of Ashley, a blonde American whose parents had emigrated to Japan, brought you out of your reverie.

“...his body... my god... his body... he was muscular all the way up to his neck, and when he grabbed my waist to lift me up and pin me against the wall...”

She let out a little squeal, which she stifled with her handkerchief, and you couldn't help but bite your lip. You all shared something in common around that table. Your wealthy husbands were old, dried up by age, and couldn't care less about your desires. You were all, without exception, pawns of your parents placed on the chessboard of ambition and greed, in other words, the product of old, backward families clinging to tradition.

For your pleasure, you had all hired people more than once to satisfy your needs, so the subject was no longer taboo between you. Money had to be useful for something.

“It's the best sex I've ever had,” Ashley continued, rolling her eyes back at the memory of her night.

“Give us his number!” one of the girls exclaimed.

You were skeptical. Ashley always tended to exaggerate. But you definitely needed a little... boost before your husband returned from his business trip and planted his vile seed inside you. So when Ashley shared his number, you gladly took it.

You sent him a message, and two days later, you were waiting for him in the penthouse. Showered, hair styled, makeup on, scented with vanilla and rose, dressed in a pure black silk negligee that hugged your entire body, you were nervous. You didn't know what he looked like. You only knew his name.

Toji.

Ashley didn't know his last name, which was unusual for her, considering she normally conducted background checks even on one-night stands. But you trusted her. And if your husband could have fun on the other side of the world whenever he wanted, you weren't going to wait patiently for him to come back.

The doorbell rang, and when you opened it, your heart skipped a beat.

He was tall. Very tall. Nearly six foot three. You had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and a cold shiver twisted through your stomach. He was nothing like you had imagined. His black hair was unkempt, with uneven strands falling over his cold eyes. His features were firm and pronounced, and you guessed he was somewhere between his thirties and forties. The luxury gigolos you were used to were usually well dressed. At least an ironed shirt. A tuxedo at best. Not just a plain black T-shirt and baggy sweatpants meant for the gym.

You were also used to escorts who treated you like a princess. But him...? Oh no. He wouldn't treat you like a princess. No. More like a bitch who had dared to call him.

His hard, disinterested, distant eyes undressed you from head to toe, as if to confirm that he was at the right address. Then a nonchalant smile stretched the corner of his lip. The other corner had a short scar running across it. Escorts didn't have scars. This guy was dangerous, your instincts did not lie.

“Where do you want to do it?” he asked, skipping the preamble, and you noticed he was wearing sandals when one of his feet scratched his other ankle.

“Y-yes, come in. Toji, right?” you said with a tentative smile, ignoring the question. You were not used to such abrupt introduction.

You didn't care that he might be a criminal. It was the least of your worries when you already had your entire family and your husband as enemies.

As he walked past you, you caught the familiar scent of men's shower gel. At least he had showered first. He might look like a bad guy, but he was still a professional.

You let him survey the apartment while you went to the kitchen to fetch some refreshments. You took out one of the countless bottles of wine, grabbed two glasses, and placed them on a tray. You grabbed some appetizers that your cook had prepared, and when you returned to the living room, Toji stood with his hands in his pockets, admiring the vast night view stretching beyond the penthouse windows.

He let out an amused whistle before making himself comfortable on one of the large black corner sofas. You heard the leather creak under his heavy weight. He spread his legs and your gaze couldn't help but fall on his crotch, which looked quite thick through his baggy pants. This man was huge. And incredibly muscular. His T-shirt hugged his imposing pectorals and traced the curve of his large biceps and abs. His broad chest contrasted with his slim waist, and you found yourself wondering how hard his muscles would feel beneath your fingers.

He leaned forward to grab a smoked salmon bite while you poured yourself a generous glass of wine. It was your ritual before every encounter with your husband, and the habit had stayed with you.

“We can do it on the sofa,” you finally replied after taking a big sip. “Or the bed. Anywhere, really. My husband won't be back until next Thursday. I'll have time to clean the place up.”

“And the money?”

Straight to the point. You pulled out the envelope from the pocket of your negligee and tossed it lightly onto his chest. Without taking his eyes off you, he picked it up and glanced inside. Half a million yen. If Ashley said he was the best, he'd better be worth the money. Not that it would make much difference to your bank account, but still. You always liked a good investment.

Satisfied, he offered another lazy smile and helped himself to more food. You noticed he hadn't touched the alcohol yet.

“Let's set some few rules, doll. I don't do free overtime. I don't sell emotions. If you want my mouth, you'll get it everywhere except on yours. No tenderness before, during, or after. No cuddling either, unless you pay me for it. Deal?”

“That's all I want. I'm married. I don't want any complications either. The condoms are in the bedroom. Should we establish a safeword, in case things go too far?”

“Ahh...”

He tapped his temple with his index finger, deep in thought, and you took the opportunity to finish your drink. You were already beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol warming your stomach.

“Zenin,” he spat. “Be sure that with that word, even my dick will go soft.”

You didn't know what Zenin meant, but you weren't going to ask him. His gaze had instantly turned cold, even though his nonchalance suggested otherwise. Your eyes fell back to his crotch, and this time he deliberately pressed it to let you know he had noticed where your attention was focused.

“Put it in your mouth if you're hungry,” he said with an amused shrug, and you felt yourself getting feverish.

“Don't be so vulgar!” you retorted immediately, embarrassed. “I was just... evaluating the merchandise I paid for.”

He didn't believe you for a second, and even less when you knelt down and crawled on all fours toward his legs. He let you do it. You had paid for it, after all. Though he appeared dominant, he knew he was just an object to satisfy your every desires for one night. He would let you take what you wanted. He didn't care. As long as he pocketed the half a million.

You felt your own lower abdomen contract when you pulled down the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and your nose brushed against the shape through the fabric. His breathing deepened when you began to lick the outline. You felt him grow harder beneath your mouth, and a small whine escaped you when his length slipped free of his underwear. You were starting to get wet. Without waiting, you pulled down his underwear and admired his penis. It was large, at least eight inches erect, swollen, curved at the tip, and you could see the veins throbbing on the sides. Your eyes fell on his balls and Toji grabbed you by the neck and plunged your head first under his cock.

Perhaps he was testing your limits. You, the rich, well-groomed, perfumed wife, embarrassed by a few vulgar words. Perhaps he wanted to see how far he could defile you for his own pleasure.

You let him do it. You let him, because it was exactly what you wanted. To let yourself go. To degrade yourself. To no longer wear that porcelain mask of the perfect wife for your husband who had no consideration for you.

You wanted to let go.

And you did.

You devoured his balls. You gobbled them up, sucked them, felt the few hairs on your tongue, and breathed in the smell of musk and sweat between his scrotum and penis. He groaned loudly, not expecting such vigor, and pressed you even harder, suffocating you in his intimate sweat. When your face turned red, he pushed you away, his hand in your hair, and you gasped for air, your mouth letting out a trickle of saliva. He examined you for a moment, as if to see if he could continue even though you still hadn't said the safeword.

“M... More... More...” you begged, your eyes shining.

You blushed when he gave you a big, wild grin. He finally seemed interested.

“Alright, princess.”

He stood quickly and before you could react, he pulled you by the hair, slammed your head against the glass coffee table, pain shooting through your neck, and penetrated your mouth. He couldn't fit it all in at once. You started coughing and choking, but you didn't stop. Your saliva mixed with his juices he produced with each thrust, and you pulled down the rest of his pants and boxers to grab his thighs. They were so muscular that your fingers struggled to hold on, but it didn't matter. His grip on your head never loosened as he used you like a rag doll to chase his pleasure.

Your throat felt his sudden thrusts, your mouth was swollen, your saliva was flowing. When he saw that you could take more of him, he pushed, again and again, until tears blurred your vision, mascara running down your cheeks and your nose brushing his pubic hair.

You couldn't have asked for anything better.

There was something intoxicating about becoming someone else, even if it meant turning into the lowest creature imaginable, worthy of street whores. No responsibility. No title. No judgment. When you met his gaze, obediently, he ran his thumb under your cheekbone, wet with the sticky mixture of saliva, his precum, your tears, and smeared more mascara across your ruined cheek.

Your hand slipped under your negligee and, in a hurry, you made circular movements on your clitoris. You were so wet that you could come right now. And so could he. His grunts became louder, his grip tighter, his thrusts more brutal against your jaw, and the sounds of your throat and gasps as you spat and choked were music to his ears.

Just when you thought he was finally going to cum, he pulled out and you collapsed to the floor, your forehead against his legs. You were both panting.

“Does your husband know you like it deep in your throat?” he sneered, grabbing a glass of water from the coffee table.

You didn't answer. You were buzzing, frustrated too because you would have liked to taste it. He leaned over, lifted your chin, and brought the glass to your lips. Although you were surprised by this gesture, you quickly pulled yourself together. He was a gigolo. It was his job to take care of his client, especially for the price you paid. The water immediately cooled your parched throat, and he pressed his thumb against your lower lip, eliciting another moan from you. And from him, a satisfied look.

When you caught your breath, he lifted you up and laid you down on the sofa. He spread your legs and without hesitation, as if he were used to it, he began to devour your lower lips. He licked up all the juice you had made, drank it, and ran his tongue over every corner. The sides, the inner lips, the clit that made you let out quick, high-pitched cries as you grabbed his hair. Then, when he ate you out without restraint, the wet sound of his tongue inside you, his mouth swallowing everything he could, his nose above your pearl, you lost your mind. And this time you refused to let him pull back. You pushed his face down, you moved your hips to get as much of his mouth as possible, and the scream of pleasure you let out made you tremble so hard that your legs were seized with spasms as if you were possessed.

For a moment, you didn't know where you were. It had been a while since you'd felt an orgasm like that, and your lower abdomen continued to tremble for several seconds afterward. Teasing, Toji watched you come to your senses and made you cry out again when he blew suddenly on your clitoris.

“A... Ashley was right...” you sighed, sweating.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Who?”

Your brain stopped working again, but not for the same reason. You rested your elbow on your side to help you lift your head and look at him, confused.

“Ashley. She paid for your services. She gave me your number.”

You were still panting, and strands of sweat-soaked hair stuck to your forehead. You sat back down, your thighs numb and hot, and removed your silk negligee, which had been your last barrier to nudity.

“Ah... I don't remember names,” he replied, indifferently.

You felt his expressionless gaze move from your neck to your breasts, then down lower to admire the creamy pussy he had just ruined. His penis twitched slightly against his thigh, but he ignored it. He was the most jaded escort you had ever seen. But he was also the most muscular and sexy man you had ever seen. And when your eyes scanned his body as he had done yours, you felt your lower abdomen burn again. God, he had some incredible pecs. You wanted to bury your face between them, as men did with women's breasts.

“Take off your shirt. Now.”

“Hm?”

He obeyed lazily, and your wicked hand returned between your thighs. He noticed and crossed his big arms over his muscular chest, looking down at you. He was naked from head to toe, and he knew exactly the effect he had on you. The same effect he had on all his other clients, too.

You wanted him.

You wanted him with every fiber of your being.

“Take me... Take me, Toji. Take me HARD! Wherever you want, but take me now!”

You were truly pathetic, and you didn't care. You wanted to be crushed by that bulging powerful body. You wanted to forget your husband. You wanted to defile the penthouse. It would be your rebellious victory against this arranged marriage.

“At your service, ma'am. The customer is king, after all.”

His tone was mocking, even sarcastic. However, he took a condom from the pocket of his jogging pants on the floor, and you watched him rolled it on. He then lifted you effortlessly, and you wrapped your legs around his hips. You thought he was taking you to the marital bedroom, and as he did so, you placed both hands on his pectorals, which you had dreamed of touching. Your fingers spread like starfish and you caressed his skin, moving from his broad shoulders to his firm nipples.

Your stomach was pressed against his abs, and you let out a little noise when his penis, acting on its own, began to move between you.

“The bedroom’s on the right, Toj—”

“We won’t need the bedroom.”

The moment you understood his intentions, he pinned you against the cold wall of the bay window. The entire city could see you if anyone looked up at the residential towers. He gave you no time to refuse. Hands gripping your waist, he tried to impale you onto him. You moaned instantly, arms locking around his neck. He made a few attempts at penetration that left you speechless, breathless, and when he heard you scream with pleasure, he knew he had found the right angle.

After that... After that, it was a carnage of violence and pleasure. He took you against the window while you screamed his name, red, sweaty, breathless, your legs trying to wrap around his back.

“YES! YES...! YES...!!! TOJI!”

You were at a loss for words. Your mascara was running again because of your teary eyes. You were drooling. And he thrusted you hard, deep, his balls slapping against your buttocks every time he penetrated you against the glass. When that wasn't enough, he forced you off him and pressed your breasts against the window, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

You did not care about being seen. Shame and reason had vanished while he fucked you senseless, making you fucked-stupid. You moaned with pain and pleasure when he took you from behind, your body cramped from the effort, but at that precise moment, you knew you would do anything he wanted. It made you wonder who had paid whom, and the glass around your face was fogged up.

When you felt his hot breath and grunts brush the back of your neck, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, just like Ashley had done at lunch. You had become his bitch, and at any moment, you could thank him like a dog thanking its master. You would take the smallest crumb and be grateful for it.

You didn't know when he had pushed you down, your cheek on the floor, your ass in the air. You didn't know how many times you had come either. Your thighs were on fire. You let him take you as much as he wanted, and the sound of your two bodies colliding, the sound of wetness, and your moans filled the apartment. Your lower abdomen contracted and you cried out on the floor as yet another orgasm hit you. But greedy as you were, you managed to move your hips to meet him. You wanted him to come too. You wanted his cum inside you, on you, on your face until you were unrecognizable.

When he finally reached his climax, he gave you one last powerful thrust that made you moan, and you heard him let out a hoarse curse.

“Still there?” he gasped, slapping one of your butt cheeks.

“Nnnnngggh...”

You hadn't regained your senses.

He left your body and the emptiness you felt was extremely unpleasant. At the same moment, his phone rang and he walked naked, at ease, to retrieve his pants. You heard him answer the call, followed by the sound of rubber.

“Hello? Ah... It's you. I was on a job. It depends. How much?”

You were still on the floor, your skin sweaty, your saliva pooling beneath you, your ass still exposed like a trophy. As soon as he was done with you, he took on another job. For you, it had been a moment of pure pleasure that allowed you to mentally escape your marriage. For him, it had been just another job. Emotionally detached, as if it were part of his daily routine, you watched him get dressed through the reflection in the bay window.

After his call, he came and crouched down in front of you. He lifted your head to meet your glassy gaze.

“Satisfied with the service, madam?” he asked, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips.

“Nnnnnnh...”

“Have you lost your tongue? Perfect, I've got something for you. Come on, open your mouth wide like a good girl.”

You obeyed obediently, and he placed the used condom on your tongue. He couldn't humiliate you any more than he already had, but you felt no shame. Maybe that was the worst part. You looked at him gratefully and he gave you two little slaps on the cheek before getting up, the half-million envelope in his other hand.

He ate clients like you alive. Your money too.

After he left, you remained on the floor for a long time, chewing on the condom as his semen dripped down your throat. And even later, the first thing you did when you came to your senses was to open your account to check your balance. Then, your calendar.

It was now impossible to give up the freedom and pleasure you had tasted tonight.

In three words, you were screwed.

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THANK YOU FOR READING !!!!! My readers on wattpad voted for more chapters so I'm now building this to 10-ish chapters, but of course this oneshot can be a stand-alone <3

The english translation for the others chapters are on AO3, please support me there if you liked that part 1 / onshot <33333