Reinam00n - Helpless Romantic

blitzø x succubus!reader. you're dragged along by a friend to verosika mayday's anti-blitzø party and find yourself drawn to a certain imp as the night progresses. after blitzø's heart to heart with the hostess, he's left stewing in his own mind. when you approach him and offer to keep him company there on the balcony, he may just see you as a sorely needed reprieve from his traitorous thoughts.

anon request. 3.2k

featuring: hurt/comfort, smut, an emotionally wrought blitzø, some stolitz feels.

Hugging a plastic cup to your chest, you watch the party move around you with wide eyes. You weren’t at all surprised by the level of debauchery – hell, by Lust Ring standards this was actually pretty tame – but by the strange kind of… catharsis you were witnessing amongst some of the other guests. Sure, not all of it was exactly healthy – you were pretty sure playing pin-the-dagger-on-the-dickhead wasn’t therapist approved – but people seemed to be…

Well.

Maybe ‘moving on’ weren’t the right words for it.

But, hey, you weren’t here to judge. You’d been invited by a friend to a Verosika Mayday party, and even among fellow Succubi that was huge deal. So, that had been enough for you to put together a poor attempt at a Halloween costume and tag along for the night.

You hadn’t realized that the dress code had a different theme until you had opened your apartment door to see you friend wearing a shirt emblazoned with a crudely written “Fuck You Blitzo”. Now it was easy to tell the two groups apart by their wardrobes – those invited by Verosika herself, and their guests all dolled up in their Halloween best.

Still, decent booze, better music, and the intoxicating energy that always radiated off a group of Lust demons this large has your head spinning pleasantly, even if this isn’t exactly what you’d been expecting. You’d grilled your friend on how they’d scored themselves an invite, and honestly, it felt as though you only needed to be tangentially involved with this ‘Blitzø’ guy to score yourself an invite from Mayday.

You weren’t complaining. It beat sitting at home.

The hours pass in a blur of booze and bodies, and you’ve long since surrendered yourself to the fun. An incubus you’ve already forgotten the name of has you pressed against the wall, his tongue in your mouth and his hips flush against yours. You can feel him hard against you, the energy swirling through the party spurring you on. You hook one hand in his belt, the other slung over his shoulder, still holding your half-full cup. He doesn’t seem to be worried about wearing the contents, and his lips move to the side of your throat, his stubble teasing over your skin.

You hum happily at the sensation, rolling your hips into his. An incubus isn’t going to feed you those happy-vibes as much as a human soul could, but even without the power rush your own excitement is an addictive sensation. The incubus grazes his teeth over your collarbone and you gasp, eyes opening lazily.

You cast your gaze across the throng of dancing bodies and upward, following the line of the stairs to the balcony above. A figure wrapped in what looks like a stained tablecloth sits up there alone, feet dangling over the edge. You find yourself staring up at them for a long moment before you feel yourself pushing the other demon away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve gotta go,” you tell him, only semi-apologetic. “Sorry.”

He shrugs, taking it in stride the way only an incubus can, and you step past him to wander up the stairs. Coming to a stop beside the figure… an imp, you realize… you hesitate for a moment.

“Mind if I join you?”

You can barely make out the shrug of his shoulder and you take a seat beside him, swinging your legs out over the edge of the balcony. Discontent is just radiating off of him, and you bite your lip.

“Y’know… you might be the only person here who out even less thought into dressing for the theme than me,” you joke gently. You’re wearing a barely-there dress made of thick black threads woven together to emulate a spiderweb. It left the matching set of black lingerie clearly visible underneath, the hem ending a few inches above your thigh-high boots. “Are you supposed to be a… ghost or something?”

The imp doesn’t answer, and you bit your lip against the sheer awkwardness. You could just take him blowing you off in stride and leave, but there was something so… magnetic about the guy. You take a sip of your drink, holding out the cup in offer.

“You want some?”

There’s a pause, then he reaches out from under the tablecloth to take the cup, his claws brushing against your fingers as he does. He throws back the rest of it, sighing and letting the cup drop from his hand to the floor below, heedless of anyone it might hit. “…Thanks.”

“Sure,” you say, tucking hair behind your ear. “You, uh… don’t seem to be having fun. Did… you know this Blitzo guy?”

The imp is silent for a few moments, his voice barely audible. “He ruined my fucking life.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

The imp glances your way, stiffening for a second as he studies your face. “I don’t… did Blitz fuck you over, too?”

He has nice eyes.

You shake your head. “Got invited by a friend. And I don’t think they really knew the guy either. Hell, half the people here are like that from what I can tell. Honestly, this whole thing feels kinda… fucked up.”

The imp stares at you for a few more moments, and there’s something weighted about his gaze. You swallow, fingers tangling in the webbing covering your stomach. Then, he casts his eyes down over the crowd, and he tenses.

“What’s wrong?”

He seems to struggle to decide whether he wants to tell you. You follow his gaze and spot the Goetian Prince you’d heard sing earlier in the night, currently being spun around the dancefloor by an Incubus you’ve seen at parties in the past.

“Ah.” you say. “An ex?”

He nods, almost pitifully. Still, his fists clench against his thighs, an outward show of irritation. Possessiveness.

The two of you watch the couple laugh and dance for a while, and you fight the urge to reach a hand over to him as he growls quietly when the incubus kisses the prince’s neck.

Instead, you swallow, raising your voice over the crowd again. “Hey… did you drive?”

“What?”

“Did you drive tonight?”

He nods, eyes still glued to the Owl Prince.

“…D’you think you could give me a ride home?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The two of you ride in silence, all the way back into Hell and down into the Lust Ring; you only speak up long enough to give him directions to your apartment. His claws are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, hard enough that his knuckles are pale. His jaw clenches and unclenches, and after a while you reach out over the messy seat of his van to touch a calming hand to his knee.

The imp glances down at it, almost surprised, but his jaw stops tightening.

He comes to an abrupt stop outside your apartment building, mounting the curb and narrowly missing the bench bolted to the footpath. You unbuckle your seatbelt, the awkward feeling hanging between the two of you like so much smoke.

You should end it here, let him take himself home and drink away his troubles or smash shit or send his ex a barrage of texts over what he saw tonight. It’s not your business and you don’t owe the guy anything. So, why instead do you hear yourself say: “Hey, um… d’you want to come inside?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On any other day, Blitzø might have scoffed at the idea of a shy succubus, one that treads lightly around his feelings rather than just asking or seducing him into a rough fuck, but tonight he just follows you into your apartment quietly. He still wears the tablecloth like a security blanket, but you don’t comment on it.

Instead, he takes a seat on the couch as you pour the two of you a drink of Asmodean whiskey. It’s not as strong as Beelzejuice but it’s marketed as a nightcap, and it feels more suitable in this moment than a party drink. It burns his throat when he downs half of it, his fingers wrapped almost too tightly around the glass.

You try to make conversation, voice stilted and quiet, and he offers you brief responses that float away like debris in water. All he can see in his mind is Stolas’ happy, carefree smile as that incubus had held him in his fucking arms, and Blitzø just needed his brain to stop.

“You wanna fuck?”

You stop midsentence, caught off-guard.

“I…” you give a surprised, breathless laugh. “I’m… you want to…?”

“Fuck,” he nods decisively. He feels like he should be leaning into you, fixing you with bedroom-eyes or at the very least be speaking in a huskier tone but instead he just sits there, a matter-of-fact. “Now.”

You seem to consider him for a moment before you reach up, and he stiffens as you touch the edge of the tablecloth.

“Depends,” you say, pushing the cloth back away from his face. “Do I have to fuck a ghost?”

He chokes on a laugh despite himself before you lean down to kiss him. He meets your lips almost hesitantly, and it isn’t until later that he realizes that this is the first time he’s kissed someone other than Stolas in months. Your kiss is different, softer and more tentative… there’s no urgency behind it, none of the desperation that’s usually tied to a scheduled fuck. It leaves him cold for a moment, uncertain, but then you cup his cheek gently and slide your tongue into his mouth and he feels warmth bloom in his gut.

He kisses you back, claws curling in the threads barely covering your thigh as the tablecloth falls off him completely. The feel of it sliding over his back makes him shiver, and he wraps his other hand around the back of your neck, tugging you closer and deepening the embrace.

You taste of the sweet nectar of Beelzejuice and something tart like cherries, and he groans, low and reedy into your mouth. The sound thrills you, sends a shudder through the very middle of you, and you scratch your nails over the base of one his horns.

Blitzø almost purrs at the sensation. “Fuck…”

He inhales sharply as you trail your hand down from his face and over his chest and further… you urge his jacket down off his arms and he shrugs it off, taking your face in his hands. His teeth catch your lip and he tastes the metallic hint of blood, his cock stirring as you whimper needily in response. His eyes roll back behind the lids as you finally palm his cock, squeezing the bulge in his pants as you break apart to catch your breath, forehead bumping against his.

He barely gives you a chance to steady yourself before he’s pulling you in again, because as long as he’s feeling this, feeling you, those whispers in his brain can’t be heard. You’re a balm against the poison of his mind, and Blitzø finds himself torn between the idea of laying you out and pounding your ass into the mattress or splitting you open over his lap.

Blitzø grabs at you, clutching at your hips, your breasts. “Fuckin’ piece of—”

You giggle as his claws tangle in your dress, pulling away to tug it off over your head. Tossing it aside, your breath catches as the imp buries his face against your chest, licking and nipping at the swell of your breasts. He sucks at a nipple through the cup of your bra, and you dust kisses over his horns and his forehead as his fangs graze the hardened point through the silk. He reaches up to tug the cup down, his claws drawing lines against the soft swell of your breast, dark red against the cotton candy color of your skin. He seems to admire the marks for a moment before he brings his mouth to your breast again, curling his forked tongue around your nipple and sucking hard.

The way you arch against him is the closest Blitzø will ever understand as poetry, and he decides right there he needs more of it, pulling you into his lap. You straddle his thighs obediently, grinding yourself once, hard over his crotch. He snarls at the feeling of it, wrapping your hair around his hand and dragging you back down into another kiss, his other claws clutching at a handful of your ass.

The imp’s touch is hot and rough and amazing, so good you’re almost surprised you’re not sucking up a supernova worth of soul energy from the demon. He encourages you to ride your thigh with a tight grip on your thigh and your ass, his tongue sliding almost languidly into your mouth.

You unbuckle his belt with practiced ease, lowering his zipper and wrapping your fingers around his erection. The imp groans into your mouth, bucking into the warmth of your hand. You squeeze the base of him with every downstroke of his cock, bending down further to dust kisses over his cheek and the side of his throat. Your teeth graze his collarbone and he curses, claws flexing so hard on your ass that you feel them prick your skin.

“Fuck me…” he groans, and you kiss him again, bracing an arm against the back of the couch beside his horns.

“That’s the idea,” you say breathily and he swats your ass with the spade of his tail. He begins to roll his eyes at the joke but the gesture melts away as you take hold of his wrist and lead his hand between your legs. The imp takes the hint immediately, and you moan quietly as he tugs your underwear aside and slides his fingers against your clit.

“Oh, shit…” you murmur, riding his hand slowly. The imp presses kisses to your chest, reaching behind you unclip your bra. You shrug it off, letting out a drawn-out, broken moan as he guides his cock into you. “Fuck…”

“Fuckin’ Christ…” he agrees, head falling back against the couch. Bracing both hands against the couch on either side of him you corkscrew your hips slowly over his until he bottoms out inside you. He surprises you by leaning up to kiss you again, and you let that linger as you begin to move against him.

You ride the imp’s lap slowly, reveling in the way every inch feels inside you. He thrusts up into you every time you lower yourself again, claws claiming your thighs, just above the top of your boots.

He watches you with wide eyes, his gaze dropping down over your near-naked body before always returning to your face. You shudder with the way he feels filling, stretching your cunt, pushing your hair out of your face so you can press a kiss between his horns.

The way he’s watching you is more intoxicating than anything else you’ve sampled tonight, and when slips a hand between your legs to play with your clit you keen, head falling back.

Blitzø stares at the column of your neck as you tighten around him, your cum dripping down over the base of his cock. He feels your tail wrap around his calf, feels your cunt squeeze around him, and he closes his eyes tight.

The flash of feather and glowing red in his memory makes his brow crease, and he runs his hand over your waist, your thigh, reminding himself of the soft, smooth expanse of your skin. He thrusts up harder into you, retaking your hips to encourage you into a more brutal pace.

You let out an ‘uh’ every time he hits that spot inside you, and he’s cursing and groaning and you palm your breast and squeeze. There’s a furrow between his brows and you can tell he’s trying to hold out, to make this last. His hands are so tight on your hips you’re sure that you’ll bruise, but you don’t care, circling your clit with hurried fingers as you bounce on his dick.

“Yes…” you moan, sparks igniting up along your spine as he angles his hips just right. “Oh, fuck, yes, Blitz!”

“Kiss me,” the imp says just as your second orgasm crests. “Please… fuck. Kiss me.”

You take his face in your hands and bring his lips back to yours and he moans into your mouth as he cums inside you, hands gripping roughly at your shoulders. You keep kissing him until you feel him relax, breaking away to dust soft, slow kisses to his cheek and between his eyes. His hips bump up into yours a few more times as he finally comes down, his chest heaving.

He freezes as you bump your forehead against his and pulls back to meet your eye. “You… how the fuck did you know I’m…”

You raise an eyebrow, the beginnings of an amused smirk playing on your lips. “Your ex is the Goetian Prince and they were kinda burning you in effigy at that party… I took a gamble.”

Blitzø chuckles, the sound half torn between amusement and self-deprecation. “Fuck…”

“Well, hey,” you shrug. “Maybe I’ll have earned an invite of my own to next year’s big Halloween bash.”

He groans, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m kidding!” you laugh, taking hold of his wrists and dragging his hands away from his face. “I’m only kidding, I swear!”

He raises an eyebrow at you disbelievingly, and you smile softly, reassuringly.

“Seriously, Blitz. I mean, I don’t really know you, besides the whole…” you gesture down to where you’re still straddling his lap. Your thighs ache slightly with him still inside you. “… y’know… but I didn’t bring you home with me thinking I was going to ‘fix the asshole of honour’.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nope.” you shake your head at his skepticism. “I learned a long time ago that no one expects monogamy from a succubus. And I’m fine with that. I do better without the strings attached. But,” you continue, grinding your hips slowly over his once and making the over-sensitized imp groan in the back of his throat. “I also know you looked like you could use a break from the self-hate for a little while.”

His gaze drops, and you skim a finger down his cheek and under his chin to tilt his face back up to yours.

“Seriously. We’re good here.”

Blitzø sighs, letting his head drop back against the couch. “So, I don’t have to worry about you bitchin’ about me to your friends after this?”

“With dick that good, nah.” you joke, grinning when he snickers despite himself. “Look, I think you clearly need to figure out what’s going on between you and the Prince that’s got you all… how you are. But I also think that if you wanna stay the night, that’s fine too.”

“I don’t…”

You dip your head down to kiss his cheek before he can formulate an answer.

“Maybe don’t answer that offer while you’re still inside me.” you tease, and he smirks weakly, his hands squeezing your hips. You climb gracefully off his lap, unabashed by your disheveled appearance – mussed hair and smeared lipstick, wearing only latex boots and underwear stained in both your cum. “I’m going to shower. And I promise, I won’t be offended if you’re gone by the time I get out.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To your surprise, he isn't.

it should be illegal to take a nap and still have a headache when you wake up. like no i shut it off and back on again why are you still here

TWITTER LINKS Ⅱ ~JJK

MDI

𐙚 SATORU GOJO

✮ pounding from the back ∩-∩

✮ gojo fingering compilations *▽*

✮ fucking mhmmm ^o^

✮ fucking mhmmmmm ^0^

✮ loves it when you wear skirts ＞-＜

✮ sex in the shower －O－

✮ he is such a tease! >ω<

✮ overstimulating till you quiver around him >w<

✮ deepthroating him >"<

✮ breeding your little pussy -v-

✮ loves how his girth disappears >0<

✮ love making in the kitchen >-<

𐙚 TOJI FUSHIGURO

✮ loves to make a mess ￣︶￣

✮ so rough! >w<

✮ gock on his cock o~o

✮ he just loooves tasting you /-\

✮ masked TOJI? ಠ_ಠ & 0-0

✮ punishing you for being a brat again >o<

✮ "shut up and take my cock-" O-O

✮ letting him play wid your preety pussy -w-

✮ eating your pussy nice n good 0v0

✮ he is definitely going this rough *^*

✮ toji creampii compilations ^-^

𐙚 KENTO NANAMI

✮ filling you up so good -v-

✮ you didn't know he is this nasty *w*

✮ "you've been a baaaad girl" ≧ ~ ≦

✮ his precious doll >u<

✮ he is so big 0-0

✮ made for him ^~^ & -^-

✮ you teased him a lot >0<

✮ he is stressed so take him like a good girl -v-

✮ his brown suspender? ⊙o⊙

✮ so thick so tasty suck it now >0<

✮ using you the way he pleases -w-

✮ it's Gojo's fault that he is being so rough ´･ω･`

✮ "keep that pretty mouth shut hm?" *-*

✮ pounding from back >0<

𐙚 SUGURU GETO

✮ loves to pull your hair while fucking >-<

✮ tied up and fingering ^-^

✮ oversensitive? but he doesn't care >-<

✮ pounding from back *~*

✮ choking you while fucking >~< & >-<

✮ squirting while he fucks!! also pounding your asshole >0<

✮ choking you on his cock *O*

✮ fingering you nice n gud -v-

✮ "who's my good monkey?" ಠ-ಠ

✮ squirting when he fucks >w<

✮ definitely him *0* & -^-

✮ "filthy monkey, you like my cock so much huh?" >-<

✮ pounding you in couch >0<

𐙚 RYOMEN SUKUNA

✮ shibari? his fav UvU

✮ shibari again ''-''

✮ sorry but this is how he is *^*

✮ shibari + rough fingering 〒▽〒

✮ throat-fuck -o-

✮ taking his cock tied up >-<

✮ his little pet <3

✮ "worship my cock like the little slut you are" *v*

✮ so good at taking his cock >O<

✮ sukuna's meal >u<

✮ he is so nasty *^*

✮ your tight asshole makes him insane *o*

✮ sukuna bonus

𐙚 SHIU KONG

✮ sit on his face, he is gonna make you cum <3

✮ sensual ˘⌣˘

✮ squirting while he fucks >w<

✮ he fucks so good /~\

✮ sucking his cock -0-

✮ riding him like a needy whore *u*

✮ faster and harder >0<

✮ your pussy is so good for him UvU

✮ "use that pretty mouth of yours" u0u

✮ eating your pussy >-<

𐙚 HIROMI HIGURUMA

✮ ride that face!! >0<

✮ "bad girls get spanked" >w<

✮ definitely fucking you like this o-o

✮ "such a good girl for me, hm?" /-\

✮ making him hard in public was a wrong idea *~*

✮ when you want his attention >u<

✮ pussy eating and soft sex 10/10 >v<

✮ he cannot control himself once he is inside you >-<

✮ fingering both your holes >^<

✮ he is so good and gentle normally >u<

✮ taking good care of your pussy ⊙o⊙

𐙚 KAMO CHOSO

✮ 69 with him ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°

✮ ridingg himm *ω*

✮ overstimulating him is so fun >w<

✮ riding his face + soft sex -0-

✮ fingering till you shaking >0<

✮ stroking his cock till he's shaking U-U

✮ loves teasing your clit nd nipples >-<

✮ his mommy <3

✮ giving him a tit job + your preety pussy ^-^

✮ riding him so good ^0^

✮ on the kitchen counter >^<

part 1

HE’S SO FUCKEN ADORKABLE AUGDHXUSUAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!?????!??!!???

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐆

pairing. sub!werewolf!toji fushiguro x dom!gn!reader

synopsis. stories and fables always warn of the big bad wolf, but personally, you think he makes quite a cute pet.

content. PORN WITH PLOT YAYY, no curses/modern/alternate magic au, bratty asf sub!toji, mean dom!reader, reader is super strong and beats toji’s ass lol, canon-typical violence, cigarette smoking, outdoor sex, degradation, brat-taming, mild pet play, shoe humping, cock stepping, pain kink, s/m dynamic, handjob, edging, pet (?) names (darling, sweetheart [receiving; condescendingly] + pup, puppy, puppy dog [giving; also condescendingly]), anal fingering, spit and cum as lube, spanking, reader refers to themself as ‘master’ once, morally grey + dubcon ending

notes. finally finished!! thank you for your patience til now :,) this fic kinda ran away from me while i was writing it so it’s different to what i initially planned but hopefully people are still into it. also it’s my first time writing toji so i hope i did him justice!! anyway, please consider reblogging if you enjoy<3

wc. 9.2k

The footsteps started when you were about halfway home.

In sync with yours. Heavy yet carefully quiet, faint but noticeable, at least to someone who goes on walks in the woods as often as you. Human, as well — too calculated not to be — and someone with a broader gait, by the sounds of it.

After a few moments of inner-debate, you stop. The footsteps stop too.

Your eyes swiftly scan your surroundings. Nothing — but you keep your guard up as you slip a cigarette out of the tin in your coat’s breast pocket, then a lighter from your trouser pocket. Between your lips, you rest the cigarette and cup your hand over the lighter’s flame. Its warmth is intimate against your cold skin, in both its temperature and familiarity. The thin misty stem of scorched tobacco blooms in the air.

You absentmindedly dig a little divot in the dirt with the tip of your shoe, and chance another curt look around you, but still nothing. Minutes tick by and eventually you decide to resume your walking, though at a more leisurely pace this time. And as you do so, those footsteps return — tenfold. Soft, distant taps turn into violent hits against the earth. Nearer and nearer they draw, but you keep facing forward, not a stutter in your step or a falter in the lazy in and out of smoke.

Until a looming presence enters your peripheral vision.

A blur is your only warning. Then an arm cinches around your throat.

You jab your lit cigarette into the man’s arm. A raspy, “Son of a bitch,” puffs into your ear, but he doesn’t let go.

Okay. Don’t panic. Focus.

You try again. Spread your stance. Secure your grip. Jump, legs in the air, and throw yourself back down. His body hunches over yours. You propel back up. Hurl him over your back.

He grunts as his body slams the ground. You rush to immobilise him. He manoeuvres out of the way.

Back on his feet in seconds, he’s already charging at you. Too fast for you to dodge. You block with your arms. His fist lands like a nuclear bomb. Pure power. All at once. Leaves aftershocks like an earthquake. But still, you stay standing.

Your assailant huffs, something that sounds both pissed off and surprised, before he directs another attack. Straight for your torso.

You catch his wrist and twist it. He thrusts a leg out at your feet.

The forest around you flips upside down. Your back and the ground collide. Pain in your spine. A shadow above you. Weight on your hips. Pressure around your neck.

You grip one of your attacker’s arms. Pivot your feet round his legs. Ram your pelvis upward.

Your vision carousels. You’re on top of him. He pushes you off.

On your feet. Both of you.

A narrow miss, the edge of his knuckles swiping past your temple.

You leap back. He surges forward.

You attack before he does — a roundhouse kick to his face.

The assailant’s head spins ninety degrees. He brings a hand up to his nose, sharply inhaling as he touches it, before turning back to you.

He swings again. You knock it away. Strike his diaphragm. Then his skull.

He doubles over. You double down. Spear your knee into his face. Once. Twice. Three times. Full force, no respite. You aim for his diaphragm again with the heel of your foot.

He stumbles backwards and hits a tree. His body slumps to the ground.

He goes to get up. You pin your shoe to his sternum and shove him back. “Stay down.” You lean forward, his rib cage fighting against the compression. “Who are you? Why are you attacking me?”

Blood oozes down his chin from his nose. “Why d’ya think I’d tell you anything?”

You answer with a backhanded smack across his face.

He coughs at the impact and spits out the blood in his mouth. “Feisty, aren’t ya?” His lips stretch into a vengeful smile, laying bare his orange-stained teeth.

That’s when you notice a distinguishable scar, thick and ridged, spliced through his lip. Next, his teeth — tapered, dog-like. Then the pointy mammal ears sticking out of his hair, the furry black tail resting beside him…

There’s no doubt in your mind. It’s him. World renowned assassin: Hellhound, the Sorcerer Killer. Half-man, half-wolf; rumoured to be the only one of his kind. Willing to do anything for the right price is his motto. Until now, you’ve only ever heard of him, but now that you’re face to face… Well, he certainly looks the part, but if he was really as good as people say he is, your current positions would likely be reversed.

“I take it my reputation precedes me?” Toji pipes up cockily, apparently picking up on the recognition in your stare.

You avoid the question, lest it feeds the ego that is undoubtedly big enough already. “How much are you getting paid?”

Toji wipes the blood under his nose and looks up at you. “Not enough to be dealing with all this, tha’s for sure,” he remarks snidely.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind giving me the details of your employer.”

“Nah,” Toji argues back with slitted eyes and a chin angled up arrogantly. “Afraid I’m bound by contract, sweetheart.”

You smack him again, but all it does is garner a chuckle.

“If slapping me’s as far as you’re willin’ to go to get me to talk,” Toji scoffs before gazing up at you, “then we’re gonna be here a while, darlin’.”

Eyes narrowed, you contemplate other courses of action, different methods of both torture and persuasion.

As if embracing his current position, Toji rests back against the tree, casual despite the circumstances being everything but. “Look. You’re not gonna get me to rat out my client, alright? So unless you wanna start talking numbers, I suggest you just give–”

Your boot stomps down on Toji’s groine.

His jaw drops open and an almost inaudible moan spills out. “Ah… fuck.”

Not quite the reaction you were going for. Still, you curiously lean your leg forward, pressing the sole of your shoe down harder against Toji’s crotch. His head slumps forward, dark hair curtaining over his eyes. A barely-suppressed groan finds its way out of him.

“No way,” you breathe, incredulous. “You like this, don’t you?” You stifle a laugh. “What, not every day you get your ass handed to you, huh? I bet you didn’t even know you were into this.”

He peers up at you, grin flashing like a switchblade. “Don’t act like you’re any better.”

“Oh, I don’t have to act like it.” You roll your foot around in focused circles, watching how Toji’s breath gets heavier with each one. Your silhouette towers over him, tall and proud; carving its shape into the veil of moonlight behind you. All your features melt away in the shadows draped over your face — all except your smile, which perseveres with deadly determination and even deadlier teeth. They’re not anything special, sure; they don’t hold a light to Toji’s, yet they instil a sense of unease that someone of his size and strength and species is entirely unfamiliar with. And as he watches your tongue glide across the edge of them, shining and sinister, he realises that maybe it’s not the teeth themselves that are the threat. Maybe it’s what lies behind them; the person they belong to, who is staring down at him like a tiger eyeing a pound of flesh.

“You’re the one whose pitiful dick is under my boot right now, after all.”

Matted black ears tuck back against his head, just as any cornered animal’s might, as Toji scowls up at you. “Shut up. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

You look him up and down, from the tips of his twitchy ears to the bottom of his fluffy tail. The pinkening of his cheeks, his glossy eyes staring up at you. Puppylike. “I’d say I have a pretty good idea actually,” you say, holding in a giggle.

Toji snarls. “I’m warning y…” A breathy moan slips past his defences, so delicate you’d never suspect it could come from a man as big and burly as him. “Fuck– fuck you. If you’re gonna touch me, at least do it properly, you fucking… coward.”

His glare melts into scrunched eyebrows and squeezed-shut eyes as you sink more pressure onto his cock.

“Why would I do that? You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine like this,” you tease, and follow it with a quickened but not yet fast pace; something steady enough to not be teasing but slow enough to keep him wanting.

Toji growls. “Bastard,” he spits, but the word’s intention is lost in the air that flutters around it, turning it soft and feeble as his jaw quivers. Another brief second of honesty, a momentary crack in his composure, but that locked jaw returns as soon as Toji notices it. The look on his face is unchanged, but you’re not sure if it’s because he truly believes he’ll come out on top by the end of this, or if he’s just waiting for you to prove you’re worthy of his surrender.

“It’s not enough,” he pants out. His hands clench into fists around the soil he sits in as his hips move against your shoe. It’s still not discreet enough to go unnoticed by you — though you opt to avoid mentioning it, in favour of continuing down the path of opportunity he’s already opened up for you with his response.

“No, I think it is,” you insist, syncing your foot’s movements to Toji’s hips. Already so lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realise it. “I think you could cum just like this, riding my shoe like a worthless whore.”

Clawed fingers and calloused palms constrict around your calf. The tightness of his grip gives the impression that he’s trying to stop you, but you can feel the way he uses it to meet his grinding motions.

It’s quite the show, really. A man — a beast — like Toji, beneath you in such a way, with his eyes closed in oblivious concentration, his lips parted ever so slightly and his strained breaths hot against your shin. Dark lashes on rosy cheeks. Hair swept across his eyes, shifting with every movement.

It’s too bad it can’t last.

What you said certainly implies that you plan to make him finish like this, but all it really is is a trap. No beast can truly resist temptation, after all, and Toji is no different. He’ll pretend to hate every second of this, but there is no denying that the only reason you’ve gotten this far is because he wants it. Desperately. Carnally. He might scowl at your degrading words, but in the end, he chases after the promise that’s whispered over their shoulder, the promise that he longs for so deeply that he doesn’t realise its hushed voice is really his own in disguise.

You rake your fingers through his hair, collecting sweat and the strands obscuring his face into a fist. A yank drags his face into the moonlight, and a groan from his throat. “Alright, that’s enough,” you declare, the words cutting and final. “Get off me, fleabag.”

Toji’s lip curls up in a snarl and his canines gleam beneath the pale skin. “The fuck d’ya mean ‘that’s enough’?”

You scoff. “Exactly that.” Darkness drips over Toji’s face as you lean over him. “Now get off of me before I fucking make you.”

For a second, you think you’ll need to repeat yourself one more time — his eyes are narrowed and his lips pursed, a look of reluctance if you’ve ever seen it — but then the hands around your leg loosen, until all that’s left behind is the autumn breeze against the lingering imprint of his warm palms. The grin you find yourself wearing is so wide you feel your teeth pressing through your lips. A brat’s obedience, no matter how small, is always a victory worth celebrating.

“So what now?” Toji sighs and leans back on his hands, legs still spread. Boredom sculpts his features, but the colour in his cheeks betrays his façade. Try as he might, he’s not nearly as good at hiding his true desires as he thinks. And when you only smile in response, he raises an eyebrow. “Well?” A scarred hand confidently slides down to the space between his thighs, the thick fingers parting and tracing the silhouette of his hard cock. Wolfish fangs pull at his bottom lip and a harsh breath rushes out through his nose. “You just gonna stand there… or are you gonna come and finish what you started?”

You lean your weight back, arms folded across your chest, and chuckle. “I can’t really win, can I?” you say with playful resignation. “Either way, you’ll enjoy it.”

He grins — the kind of shit-eating grin that’s designed to scorch your nerves down to their roots. Whether that’s a good or a bad kind of sensation depends entirely on the person. In Toji’s case? It’s somehow both.

“Better make your choice quick then,” Toji remarks, his tone equal parts raspy and sultry. “If ya don’t hurry, I’ll just finish myself off right here and now.” The tip of his tongue peeks out between his sharp moonlit teeth, mirroring your action from before.

You snicker and give him a pitied once-over. “Darling, I assure you that’s not the threat you think it is.”

Furry ears jerk in place as Toji sucks his teeth. “Get down here and suck my cock before I rip your throat out then.” The words tumble out of him like he’s rushing to get them out — evidence of his growing desperation, or perhaps of his courage, waning in the imminent promise of consequence.

“There,” he says with finality, lips stretched into a half-cocky, half-frustrated snarl. “‘That threatenin’ enough for ya now, bitch?”

You swiftly snatch his face up in one hand and Toji flinches — just a split-second scrunch of his eyes, but it’s enough to tell you caught him off guard. You’re not really acting out of anger so much as greed though; craving and chasing after those tiny yet monumentally satisfying slip-ups in his reactions. “You are awful mouthy for some dog that was humping my foot until a minute ago.”

“Yeah, and?” he barks back, with enough gall to still be smiling against your palm. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

Suppressing another laugh, you draw closer to him; not quite eye-level, just ever so slightly elevated. “You know, it’d be kind of cute how badly you want me to fuck you if you weren’t so fucking insufferable about it.” Your nails, though blunt in comparison to Toji’s claws, carve impressive crescents into his skin under the force of your tensed fingers. “But don’t forget that you’re below me, mutt. I can stop any time. I can go home and never think about you again, but you?” You laugh through your nose and push his skull into the bark of the tree behind him. A clawed hand clamps around your wrist, but you don’t move an inch. “You’ll be the one jerking off in the middle of a fucking forest, like some filthy creep, fantasising about all the things I didn’t do to you but could have had you just stopped being a brat for one goddamn second.”

An airy breath leaves you, charged with equal parts exasperation and glee and resulting in something akin to a laugh. The mockery behind the noise fails to affect Toji, however. Those night-black ears remain flat against his skull, and those indigo eyes remain glaring at you, but the tightly-sealed lips below them tell you he’s biting his tongue — figuratively, though perhaps also literally. It doesn’t seem too far of a stretch to assume he’d go to such lengths to keep from arguing back, after all.

You smooth your free hand over your hair and readjust the grip of the other on Toji’s face. He grunts at the action, but those lips don’t budge, not even a twitch. The silence that follows is unfamiliar, but not completely unwelcome. Even rewarding, in a way.

“So what’s it gonna be, puppy dog?” you ask lazily, though not without that telltale flicker of amusement in your voice. “Are you gonna be a good boy?” You tilt your head and smirk. “Or would you prefer to jizz here in the dirt with just your hand and imagination like a pathetic loser instead?”

You feel how he grinds his teeth, that slow mechanical shift of his jaw and the muffled chalky sound of bone grating against bone in his mouth. Curiosity beckons you to wonder what’s going on inside that head of his; what words he’s rummaging through his mind for, what kind of responses he’s drafting and redrafting, if any at all. What does a beast of his calibre have to say to a lowly human like you, daring to tame and subdue him?

In the darkness below your form, you catch a cautionary rise and fall of his hips. Just one small short nudge of his pelvis, forwards then back again. And before you can comment on it, Toji speaks, low and not entirely begrudgingly:

“Put me in my place then.”

Immediately, your lips slide into a smile, but you restrain from getting too excited just yet. “Is that an order? Or a plea?”

Midnight eyes dart away from yours; no words follow.

“Well? Answer me,” you snap at him. “You can do it now or I can just leave, remember? Either option is fine by me.”

Toji groans. “It’s… I’m– I’m asking.” He sighs heavily and the hand around your wrist loosens, twitches. He still refuses to look at you amidst this all, it seems. But you wait some more, let the silence linger a little longer, just in case.

He sighs again. Still doesn’t look at you, but a quiet little, “Please,” squeezes through gritted teeth.

“Can I get that in a full sentence?” you say, polite enough to seem genuine at first, but paired with that condescending grin of yours, it’s not at all convincing. “I just want to be sure I’m understanding you correctly.”

Toji’s eyes finally return to yours. “You’re pushing your fucking luck,” he growls.

“Oh, I am? I’m pushing my luck?” You pause, but not to let him answer; on your face is a look that tells him he’s the one pushing his luck, that he’s misstepped — and should take that step back before he regrets it. “Sorry, who’s doing who a favour by being here, again?” You’re no longer smiling, but the condescension in your tone remains. “Remind me because I seem to have forgotten.”

His eyes flick away and you’re met instead with the silence you have grown somewhat fond of.

Then, eventually: “You,” he answers and his Adam’s apple bumps against your wrist as he swallows. “I want you to…” He hesitates, tense neck muscles relaxing in your hand, eyes closing, pressing shut. Hard. Reluctant, even now.

“To put me in my place… Please.”

A sickeningly delighted snicker escapes your throat. “Well done, puppy,” you praise, giving a few patronising pats to his cheek, making Toji flinch, before you let go of his face. “I knew you could do it! Who’s a good boy?” You ruffle his hair alongside your fake coo to rub salt into his wounded ego.

Toji sucks his teeth, refusing to give you the satisfaction of anything other than that as a reaction to your satirical tease. You just hum to yourself gleefully. You’re happy either way — you have him right where you want him, after all.

You stand up straight, returning to your position above him. “Alright. Be a doll and take your pants off for me.”

A scarred lip tugs up toward his cheekbone, canine teeth peering out. “No ‘please’?”

Easy as that, the cheerful expression on your face distils into stone cold eyes and unmoving lips, leaving the wordless air to speak for you. Briskly after, Toji begins sliding off his black pants until they bunch up at his ankles. He looks up at you. “Want my shoes off too, perv?” he jokes, proudly grinning.

Ignoring him, you step over his legs, so your feet are either side of them, then sit down. His thighs squirm under you.

“Uh, what–”

“Be quiet,” you demand.

And for once, Toji does so without further hesitation or questioning.

Your fingertips trail down his torso, his skin spasming under the fabric of his t-shirt at the featherlight contact. Down his chest, stomach, navel, catching on the waistband of his underwear, passing over it. Fingers dance and butterfly around the outline of his cock and back again. Slow and gentle but purposeful touches. His chest stutters, his abdominal muscles contract. You continue, motions repeating in hypnotic succession of one another like shifting waves. The thighs beneath you begin to fidget again.

“Stay still,” you say with a pointed look.

A restrained groan. “When are you gonna–”

“Whenever I damn well feel like it,” you scold, “but not at all if you don’t watch yourself.” You make sure to give him another sharp glare before you resume.

Elastic gives under the pull of your fingers and glides down his hips until they tuck under his balls. Cool air envelopes his cock and yanks a hiss out from between Toji’s teeth. Your fingers spread again, over the exposed tip, then back again to paint small circles around the wet slit.

A blunt thump brings your attention to Toji’s face, where the foliage above projects its fragile forms onto it. His head is tilted back against the tree behind him, mussed furry ears flush against the bark and restlessness manipulating the rest of his features. The shameless clarity of his struggle fans the flames of your excitement.

Your fingers change shape again and wrap loosely around Toji’s length. The edge of a harsh sigh catches on the ends of your hair, brushing it up as you move your hand down, and up, then down again. The writhing of his thighs dominoes into his hips, which jump up, seemingly involuntarily.

Just this once, you choose not to indulge in your own selfish enjoyment — as a reward for his almost exclusively obedient behaviour since you began touching him — and mercifully grant Toji the relief of your whole hand, curling it to fit around the shape of his dick. A half-cut-off gasp unfolds in the space between you, but nothing more. You smile nonetheless. “Does that feel good?”

Toji’s head adjusts against the tree, eyelids pinching and tightening. “What kinda question is that? F’course it does.”

You hum. “Just wanted to make sure you’re still responsive.”

Toji opens his eyes, hooded but still catching the moonlight, to flash you a confident look. “You won’t break me that easily.”

Yet his self-assured tone cracks when you suddenly tighten your grip around him and hasten your pace.

“Wait, don’t– not that fast–” He gasps and reaches for your wrist, but you swat it away. You change the pace again, and again. Soft, hard, slow, quick. And all Toji can do is mutter expletives and squeeze his fists around handfuls of dirt.

“I’m… close,” Toji warns breathily.

“Really?” you snort. Granted, you’d teased him for a while before this, but you’re still shocked. He must have been more into this than even you had noticed. “You must be popular in the bedroom, huh?” you quip. “They call you Two-Minute-Toji?”

Thick eyebrows furrow as a half-hearted snarl seeps out from Toji’s lips. “God, do you ever shut–” He moans and grabs at your thighs, the tips of his claws piercing through your clothing. “I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck–”

Your touch vanishes before Toji’s words can come true, allowing you to watch the ecstasy melt off his face in real time. A series of emotions pass through in its place: first confusion, then realisation until, finally, disappointment. Outrage. Desperation.

Maybe you’re just sadistic, but you find it to be a good look on him.

In the spur of the moment, Toji attempts to finish what you so cruelly and prematurely left incomplete, but you capture his wrists and raise up on your knees to pin them above his head.

“Shit!” he exclaims, wide chest still sinking and swelling from his near-high. “What the fuck’s your problem? Why’d you stop?”

Exactly the kind of response you’d expected, of course. An entirely reasonable one at that, but still — you’re unable to fend off the smirk that grows at the sight of it. This is just the start, and he’s already so upset? Shivers take over you at the thought of how unprepared he is for the torture to come.

“You made me work for what I want. It’s only fair I get to do the same to you,” you explain matter-of-factly. “And the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

Toji’s ears flap with vexation; you’re sure he only means to be angry, but to you, he resembles a sulking puppy.

You release his hands and move them to his shoulders. “So here’s how this is gonna go,” you start cheerily. “When you’re close, you tell me. Don’t, and I’ll ruin your beloved orgasm, right then and there!” You pinch his cheek in a faux-flirty way. “Got that, my little mutt?”

Toji frowns with something like judgement. “What sort of sick game is this?”

“Does it really matter so long as you cum at the end?” you counter, but Toji remains unconvinced.

“‘Course it does,” he replies. “What’s the point in making me wait if I can have it now?”

Such simplistic, almost childlike logic; it makes you giggle. “The point is a little thing called delayed gratification,” you say in that typical patronising tone, the one that Toji has become so dreadfully accustomed to.

“Delayed for who?” He eyes you, up and down. “You’re loving every second of this.”

You giggle again. “Oh, come on,” you beckon. “Don’t you want to know how good it feels?” One of your hands drops down his torso and Toji’s eyes follow just in time to see it curl its fingers around the drooling head of his cock. “Being denied over and over, that tension building higher and higher each time…” His jaw quivers when you slowly twist your wrist. “How sensitive you get, how desperate…” You drag and pull. Twist again. “And the rush of not knowing if this time you’ll get to cum…”

Toji grunts as his dick slaps against his stomach.

“Or be denied again!” Your laugh then is inevitable, but still it feels too sweet and innocent of a sound, given the cause of it is a man’s torment.

“Okay, enough. You’ve made your point,” Toji says in a flurry, before you can add anything else. “Stop talking and just…” You hear him swallow and study the way it makes the muscles of his neck ripple. “Show me.”

Those two words are the starting pistol to your well-earned entertainment — and Toji’s well-deserved misery. Your experienced and adaptable hands, paired with your watchful eyes and insatiable desire to inflict suffering, make for a dangerous concoction. And the fact that Toji is oblivious to that knowledge just makes the thrill of it all the more invigorating. Still, you pace yourself; remind yourself that patience may be bitter, but its fruit is sweet and lies waiting for you. Time is the least of your worries and the forest around you topples amidst the routine you’ve choreographed for you both. You work him up, soaking in his helplessness, and pull the floor out from under him when he’s at his most vulnerable, watching how that helplessness snowballs and the cycle repeats; watching him groan, gasp, whimper and curse under his breath. Like a feline playing with its food, you relish every moment of it, all while dreaming of how good it will taste once you finally feast.

“Close, so close, so close,” Toji mumbles. “M’gonna cum–”

Your hand jolts away from his dripping cock and with it, Toji’s hips buck up so hard, so desperately, that your knees lose contact with the ground for a second.

“How many times is that now?” you ask. You already know how many, you just want to make him say it.

Body slack against the tree, Toji’s eyes blink slowly at you. “F–four,” he says with a weak wince. “Fuck. When are you gonna let me cum?”

You make a contemplative noise. “I don’t know,” you say as you boredly doodle patterns on Toji’s shirt. “Maybe after… four or five more times?”

“You’re fucking joking,” Toji chokes out in disbelief, but that sincere gleam in your eyes stays. He runs a palm down his face. You don’t miss the way his tinted face saturates. “That’s– nine times? Are you crazy? That’s not–” His throat feels like it’s all dried up. He steadies his voice. “There’s… no way I’m waiting that long.”

“No?” you echo, your eyebrows raised. “Is it too much to handle for Two-Minute-Toji?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Toji hisses. “It’s nothing to do with me. You’re just insane.”

So defensive, you think, amused, but don’t let it show. Instead, you sit back thoughtfully. “I guess you have a point,” you agree. Meanwhile, your hands gain a mind of their own, caressing his hips, abdomen, inner thighs; brushing up against his dick every so often. “Four times is already quite a lot…” Finally, your gaze falls to your unforgiving fingers, where you’ve been toying at the cusp of Toji’s composure. “Just one more then,” you compromise and glimpse at Toji.

He doesn’t hide the irritated noise he makes at your offer, but he does think twice about his instinctual reply — which ends up being futile, since he chooses to say it anyway.

“You’re delusional if you think I’ll agree to that.”

You tilt your head and blink at him. “So… you want to cum now, is what you’re saying?” you ask, and Toji opens his mouth to answer but you suddenly grab his cock with a tight fist — and not the pleasurable kind. His jaw clamps shut, a slice of whistling air rushing in through his teeth. A paw-like hand whips out next, attempting to get rid of yours, but you slap it away and use your other hand to engulf the head of his cock in just as cruel a hold.

“Would cumming now make the spoiled mutt happy?” you mock.

His attempts to remove your hands persist, but each time you just push him away and squeeze harder. “Ah, shit, that fucking– hurts, you asshole! Let go–”

“Answer the question first,” you say sternly.

Toji’s thighs are thrashing now, and his hands have resorted to clinging onto your arms. His breaths leave him as hard as if he was on the verge of climax; the irony makes you laugh inwardly.

“Fuck, fine,” Toji heaves. “Yes, yes I want to cum now. Let me cum. Please.”

You keep your hands on him for a second longer than probably necessary before finally letting go. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you say with a grin.

Talking back again crosses Toji’s mind, but he thinks better of it. “Whatever. Just… get on with it already.”

As with the previous four times, getting him to the edge again doesn’t take long. Especially since now you’re armed with the knowledge of where he’s most sensitive, what he likes best and how much to do of each to get the most debauched sounds out of him. You have him panting and rolling his hips in time with your hands in just a few short minutes. One hand on your shoulder, the other carving gashes into a tree root bulging out of the soil; a reminder of Toji Fushiguro’s monstrous nature.

It’s easy to forget you’re taming a beast when he’s so pathetic all of the time.

“Ah, ah, I’m close,” Toji moans. His knuckles go taut-white, then relax, then repeat. In the throes of pleasure, his baritone voice has softened into something lighter. “F–fuck, I’m gonna cum! I wan– I wanna cum!”

The next upward stroke of your hand slides the rest of the way off, yet again depriving Toji of the orgasm he keeps chasing. In its absence, the reddened tip of his cock drools a drop of precum.

Toji shouts, gravelly and breathless, into the open air. “No! No, what– what the fuck?!” There seems to be a wetness in his eyes, but you think it could just be a trick of the light. “You… you said you’d let me cum this time!”

“Did I say that?” you muse — recalling very vividly, in fact, that you conveniently never said those words. Whether or not that was on purpose is anybody’s guess, since you doubt Toji’s foggy brain remembers such semantics. “I don’t think I did.”

Toji scowls at you, but his aggravation runs off of you like water on a duck’s back; you can’t take him too seriously when his face is so flushed, cheeks practically aglow with colour and slowly spreading down his neck. A quick tongue swipes over his lips, which have gone dry from the progressively increasing frequency of open-mouthed noises.

Out of something akin to instinct or impulse, you find yourself leaning in — close. Until you’re brushing noses, lips only inches from each other, sharing the same breath of air. Silver-blue eyes flick down your face and linger a little too long to be accidental.

You pull away, laughing.

“You are way too fun to toy with,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Toji before looking up at him. “Did you think I was gonna kiss you just then?”

“No,” Toji sputters out, appearing offended that you would even think such a thing. “I’d bite your tongue off if you tried.”

His threat only makes you chuckle. “We’ll see how much longer you can keep up that attitude,” you say, scrunching up the front of his t-shirt in your fist, “once I’m through with you.”

Your lips collide so immediately that you almost don’t realise Toji is the one to close the final rift of space between you. Like a volatile chemical reaction, the kiss escalates. Potent, rabid, vulgar. Animalistic. Teeth nip at flesh, blood and saliva blend and smear down chins.

At the same time, your hand occupies itself with the same delectable song and dance you’ve come to know so well. The prelude — an open palm, skimming across the head of Toji’s cock; a dainty back and forth, like a bow across violin strings, and Toji’s noises a melody writing itself on your lips. You steer the flow of his sound like a conductor with a symphony, building the bridge, climbing towards the chorus, the crescendo just in sight… Then with a flourish, it all descends back down again, hushed into a temporary interlude, before ebbing into a reprise. Over and over, you play this orchestrated tune; over and over and over, until each note has been played to its fullest and rang out into silence.

Eventually, you get up.

Left in your wake, beneath you, Toji is a mess of the man he was. Eyes glazed over. Lips pink and damp. Cock blushing, slick, swollen. Hips jumping in search of relief. It took denying him almost ten times, but regardless, he’s all yours now. Pliant and at your mercy, like a common prey animal.

“Roll over, boy,” you say, just like you would to an actual dog, as you make a circling gesture with your finger. “I want you on your hands and knees.” You tap his bare thigh with the side of your shoe. “Go on. Hands and knees. Like a good little dog.”

Shakily, Toji turns around. Soil pools around his knees where they sink. One hand wraps around that same scratched up root from before, the other braces against the base of the tree. His head hangs limp between his shoulders.

You kneel behind him and tug his underwear down his toned thighs. Goosebumps multiply over Toji’s exposed skin, first at the breeze that briefly grazes it, next at the fingers that replace it. Both your hands span out across the expanse of Toji’s ass, a soothing sensation against the goosebumps despite being so foreign to him. Your thumbs wander away from the rest of your fingers and toward the patch of skin between his tail and the base of his spine. Experimentally, the pads of your thumbs grind down into it.

Toji makes a noise that could arguably be classified as a yelp and his tail bushes up, almost hitting you in the face with how skittishly it swings out.

“W–watch it,” Toji whinges. “Don’t be so rough.”

“Oh? Is it sensitive?” you taunt.

Even now, on all fours with his bare ass in front of you, the embers of Toji’s pride prevent him from admitting even the slightest implications of weakness. You, however, are no stranger to such behaviour, and do not let it deter you from your goal.

Your thumbs continue wandering, dipping below his tail. They rotate inward, pulling apart the thick meat of his ass to reveal a soft, puckered hole. You succumb to temptation and prod at it. It tenses, along with the rest of Toji’s muscles.

Toji turns his head over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he breathes, almost sounding worried or angry, definitely trying to sound assertive — but you can tell he’s more nervous than anything. Flustered, even.

You pause. “Do you want me to stop?”

His features contort, as if perplexed. “It’s weird.” He turns back around. “Don’t even know why you would wanna touch back there.”

The reason is simple to you. “Because it feels good.” Thoughtlessly, you knead your thumb against the virgin hole, observing how it clenches, as if inviting you in. “Inside, I mean,” you clarify.

“Ins– inside?” Toji repeats, like the concept is unfathomable to him. “Like, inside of– me?”

“Yeah,” you deadpan, though, admittedly, you are somewhat entertained. Perhaps he truly is so oblivious that it skews his logical thinking, but you suspect that the true cause is the lust that clouds his mind. Whether from his need for release or from a late-onset sexual epiphany, you find it almost endearing how naïve and innocent his response makes him seem. “So… Can I keep going?”

“Uh…” Toji, subconsciously, it seems, arches his back ever so slightly in your direction. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters.

“In that case,” you usher and place a hand between his shoulder blades, “lower your chest for me some more.”

With the sheer density of muscle fibre beneath your fingertips alone, those defined contours mapped out across his broad back, visible even through his clothes, you expect some resistance — but he gives like freshly fallen snow, without so much as a groan of indignation, and yields his form until he’s flush with the ground.

In this position, he opens up on his own. Hole lewdly exposed, as if presenting to you. His tail hangs over it, out of humiliation or to protect his dignity you assume, but with one simple order, you have Toji holding it out of the way for you, making him appear even more pathetic.

Leaning over him, you trickle some saliva onto Toji’s hole. It spasms as the fluid lands on it.

“Did you just spit on–” Toji cuts himself off with an exasperated sigh. “That’s… fucking disgusting.”

“Your tail seems to think otherwise,” you retort, referring to how the appendage subtly wags.

Toji buries his face in the crook of one arm. “That thing’s got a mind of its own.”

Ever so slightly poking out over the top of his bicep, however, is the scarlet tip of one ear.

You chuckle. “Sure.”

With that, you run a fingertip through the slimy fluid, collecting it from where it started dripping down his taint and spreading it out. Tentatively, you nudge your finger inside. The muscle clenches at the breach.

“Relax,” you tell Toji.

He grunts. “What do you think I’m tryna do?”

A rare streak of sympathy has your other hand reaching down to Toji’s cock and planting a few distracting touches. Slowly, the stiffness around your finger eases up, and steadily, you push past each knuckle until it’s seamlessly tucked away inside.

“How much longer…” A soft moan reverberates in the back of Toji’s throat as your finger pulls out of him. “‘T–til I can cum?”

You hum and give a few slothful pumps. “Between two minutes and two hours.” Toji’s subsequent groan of protest makes your smile stretch out like a cat. “Why? You’re not at your limit, are you?”

“You kidding? I could–” You sneak another finger on the next slide in and Toji shudders, gulps. “I could do this all day,” he finishes quietly.

The hand on his dick stops its task momentarily to lather Toji’s precum over your two fingers. You scissor them attentively, observing Toji’s facial reactions; as much as you can, at least, given he’s concealing them. Luckily, though, it seems you won’t need them anyway, with how the rest of his body is uncovering all those secrets for him — the fingers around his tail flexing, hips rocking back against your fingers, dick leaking incessantly despite your minimal touches. To think he’s already so weak to his lustful desires when you haven’t even skirted that particular place inside him; the one you’ve intentionally been avoiding.

“Are you sure you can take any more?” you tease. “It seems to me like–”

“I can take whatever you give me,” Toji interrupts gratingly.

You wonder if he can hear how ruined he sounds, but suppose that even if he does, he likely doesn’t see the humour in it that you do.

“We’ll see about that.”

After adding some more spit, you’re easing in a third finger. Just as you predicted, Toji’s body wriggles more restlessly under you. Breaths staggering as you bump into the hilt of your fingers. You bend them probingly and it lures out a fluttery moan.

Your eyes flit over Toji’s form, lips taking the shape of a salacious smile. “How are you doing over there?”

But before he has the time to even think of a witty reply, he’s tearing new claw marks into the tree bark and whining out, not unlike a dog in heat — which, in some ways, is not far from reality.

“Wow. I didn’t think you were capable of making a sound like that,” you comment. In truth, you’ve always had a knack for turning even the most unsuspecting of victims into your needy little toys; the only difference between them is how long it takes to do so. “Mind making it again?” you purr.

Regardless of what Toji’s answer may have been — though you predict it would have been something snippy or dismissive — your fingers are once again prying out a frail whine from him as he barely manages to maintain his grip on his tail.

You pull your fingers out, almost all the way, and when you push them back in again, you have your pinky finger join, poking at the edge of Toji’s entrance. “Think you can take one more?”

Toji whimpers at your suggestion. “Fuck, yes please,” he begs — something even you had begun doubting you could get him to do, and so is all the more gratifying to hear.

And just like that, you have the deadly mercenary, Toji Fushiguro, better known as Hellhound, the mighty Sorcerer Killer, riding four of your fingers like he was made for nothing else. Whining and whimpering — two things that no one would believe he did if you told them. Dribbling a puddle of his arousal into the dirt below him even in the absence of your hand. Tail jerking uncontrollably, occasionally slipping from his hold and earning himself an admonishing spank, which only serves to break him down further.

A shaking hand clasps onto your wrist, driving its thrusting motions harder and deeper into himself. “God, I’m gonna cum,” Toji sobs. “Please let me cum, please, please.”

His words make you realise that you never actually answered his question from before. Not really, not seriously. In the grand scheme of things, sure, it was always in your plan to let him cum; an irrefutable certainty. And, as large as your appetite is, you’ve had your fill now — are brimming with it, in fact — but Toji doesn’t know that, and that’s what makes you smile. Even now, you long to overflow with the joy of terrorising him. Even now, you fail to turn a deaf ear to the siren call of your deepest, darkest, most lecherous desires. In all your differences, this weakness, this unquenchable yearning of the flesh, is one that you and Toji are both cursed with.

You lean over the muscular man below you, just enough so your hot breath beats over his back. “Only good dogs get to cum,” you murmur as your fingers bully that awfully euphoric cluster of nerves, “and good dogs can beg better than that.”

Sweat permeates off him in waves and you can’t tell if the goosebumps on his skin are from the outdoor air blowing on the moisture or from the embarrassment of the demeaning act that he’s about to commit, all to appease his meagre human wants.

Cheek trapped against the dirt, Toji’s teeth flash on full display as he whimpers out. “Ahh, fuck, m’sorry… I don’t deserve it… but please let me– let me cum.” Wet eyelashes, all clumped together and satiny, flutter as Toji’s eyes fight to stay open. “M’so sorry. I’ll do anything, please.”

Anything. So vague and all-encompassing; only a small-minded fool would make the mistake of promising ‘anything’. And small-minded fools? Well, you’re not one yourself, but you certainly know your way around making one. And Toji Fushiguro, your latest little project, is no exception, it seems; he may not know it, but he’s just fulfilled a bittersweet prophecy.

Indeed — ‘anything’ is a truly wonderful word.

“Yeah?” Your pace slows until the sight of Toji’s hole, puffy, stretched and clinging around your fingers, is trackable in immensely vivid and erotic detail. “Will you be my little lapdog?” you chirrup, light and honey-sweet, as if to a beloved pet. “Obey my every word, fulfil my every wish? Be mine and no one else’s?”

The precipitation on Toji’s nape glistens as he feverishly nods his head and pushes back harder onto your fingers. “Yes, yes, I will, I am. I’m yours. All yours.”

From the cunning and brutish Hellhound, Killer of Sorcerers, the half-wolf half-man who is both feared and revered for his domineering power and cutthroat personality, you have sculpted a disciplined and docile little plaything. An irredeemable mongrel, whose generous master’s firm, wise hand has trained him into a lovely pet, worthy of being called a…

“Good boy.”

Toji’s tail convulses between his fingers.

You grin. “Go ahead,” you say with a final encouraging slap to Toji’s ass. “Let it all out for me, pup.”

And he does — so abruptly and intensely that his trembling thighs almost give under him, practically held up by your hand on his tail alone. He cries out so loud that drool flies from his lip and his voice is followed by a slight echo on the wind. Soreness is already making itself known in your wrist, but you don’t stop; you milk him for all he’s worth, coaxing out every last drop until Toji is laying in a heap of soil and his own spend, groaning and pushing your hand away.

From your coat, you fish out a handkerchief and wipe your hands. Then you move Toji onto his back to do the same for him. A ritualistic process that brings a kind of peace to your otherwise tireless, whirring thoughts.

“Sit up for me,” you tell Toji, with a pat to his thigh.

With some help, he does. You smile and rummage through your pockets, searching for… Ah, there it is!

You take out the circular object and shift towards Toji. With practised efficiency, you secure it around his neck and lean back to appreciate the sight: sturdy ebony leather with intricately engraved symbols, topped off with silver fastenings. Such a pretty collar looks perfectly at home on him.

“What– what is this?” Toji slurs.

You stand up and stroll a few feet away from Toji, who’s bound to where he is in his weak post-orgasm state. Unhurriedly, you slide out a cigarette and prop it between your lips. In the corner of your eye, you make sure Toji is looking at you before you hover a finger beneath your cigarette. From it, a flame manifests and lights the butt.

Witnessing horror formulate on a face like Toji’s — on the face of a man like Toji — is nothing less than beautiful. You would pay good money to experience it for the first time again; to pinpoint the moment he comes to realise the terrible situation he’s found himself in, so you can cherish it from start to finish, all over again.

“You’re…” Toji’s shocked tone bleeds into one of ire; his wide eyes shrink into slits. “A Jujutsu Sorcerer.”

Wreathed smoke billows out of your mouth as you chuckle. “That’s right.” You cross your arms, menacing eyes flitting over Toji. “And now, you’re my cute little pet.”

“Pet?” Toji scoffs. “I kill your kind for a living. You think I’m just gonna take this shit from you?” Toji’s hands scramble up the tree behind him as he goes to get up. “You’re fucking dead, Sorcerer. Ya hear me? D–”

He yells out as he falls back down, fur standing on end from the scorching pain that pulses out of the collar around his neck. He wheezes and claws at the leather, curved black nails piercing into glowing red runes — but the pain only amplifies. He tries and tries, but the only damage he succeeds to inflict is a few nicks on his own skin.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Brute force just makes the hex stronger,” you warn with a misleadingly charming smirk. “You’re more likely to cut your own throat open before you manage to put a single split in that collar.”

You would know — it’s not the first time you’ve used it — but Toji, stubborn as ever, continues to wrestle against the collar’s spell until he’s purple in the face. Veins bulging and eyes watery. Clambering to his feet only to tumble back down again, like a baby deer learning to walk.

Eventually, though, he does stop — but he wouldn’t be Toji Fushiguro without maintaining that defiant expression, even while in such a pitiful state.

“I do feel sorry for you, you know,” you admit as you approach Toji, who, going by his expression, doesn’t believe you one bit, “but you must understand, I’m the type of person who always gets what they want.”

“And what’s that, huh?” Toji snipes. “F’me to be your fuckin’ sex slave? Someone to play out all your sick fantasies and take your frustrations out on? ‘That it?”

“Silly dog,” you playfully reprimand and roughly tousle Toji’s already dishevelled hair. He snatches his head away from your touch. “The means don’t always signify the end,” you continue as you saunter past Toji. “Just because I used sexual methods doesn’t mean I have sexual intentions.”

Toji glares at you, half puzzled and half — just straight up pissed. “So what then? What do you want from me?”

Your lips curve around the cigarette before you exhale with a cloudy chuckle. “Oh, you really are adorable sometimes, you know that?”

“Stop fuckin’ around and tell me already,” Toji snarls, teeth bared.

Blatantly dismissing his words, you gradually walk back to Toji and tilt forward over him. “Feisty, aren’t you?” you sneer at him — a callback to the same words he said to you at the start of your encounter. And one that Toji recognises, going by his strained composure. “It’s simple really,” you say conversationally as you straighten back up. “I heard the name ‘Hellhound’, saw the word ‘anything’ next to ‘for the right price’ and I was intrigued. I wanted to have you for myself. To tame the wild beast, defeat the undefeated ‘Sorcerer Killer’. That’s all.” You shrug. “I’m just fortunate I could afford such a conquest.” You smirk down at him. “You sure know how to drive a hard bargain, don’t you, puppy?”

Toji swallows, the action undulating through his throat. His tongue flicks out over his lips. His eyebrows knit densely. “You hired me?”

You blink at him. “Was that not obvious?” you say with a bashful laugh. “Ah, I really did try not to seem too prepared but I’m just a humble Sorcerer! Not an actor.”

As if still processing what’s happening, Toji just stares at you. You half-expect him to blow up any second, but that doesn’t discourage you from provoking him a little more. “I know what you’re thinking,” you say, and on its own, it’s true, but it’s more fun to pretend that it’s not. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get the second half of the deposit, even though– you know, I’m still alive.”

You laugh again and Toji’s eye twitches at the repetitive sound. He doesn’t see what you find so fucking funny that you need to laugh every five seconds but he wishes you’d just shut up already.

“You’re outta your fucking mind,” he whispers bitterly, like a too-late realisation.

“I am, aren’t I?” you quip back with a beaming closed-eye grin. “But don’t act like you’re any better.” Another callback, and just in case it doesn’t ring any bells, you press your shoe down on Toji’s crotch, where the head of his still-pink cock pokes out of his underwear, on display through his unzipped trousers. Like a panther pouring out of the shadows, your teeth reveal themselves from behind your lips in a hungry, bordering on starved, smile. “I’m not the one who’s got a second hard-on right now.”

Your acknowledgement persuades a drop of precum to shyly gather at the tip, triggering an even more shy press of thighs around your shoe. When that fails to sufficiently conceal his shame, Toji grits his teeth and whips his head away from you — but you won’t allow that.

After a final puff of smoke, you grasp Toji’s face and force it back into place: laid bare before you, tear tracks on his dirtied cheeks, dried blood under his nose, eyelashes still shiny with the evidence of his desperation. “Be a good pet,” you say as you hover your burning cigarette above his lips, “and open your mouth for your master.”

His teeth gnash together stubbornly, but, ultimately, he follows your command. Jaw falling open, tongue drooping over his lip, eyes gazing up at you, expectant and waiting. Eagerly waiting.

You make him wait no longer; you bring down the lit end of your cigarette onto Toji’s inviting tongue and twist it. The embers hiss and sizzle, branding a small scarlet circle into the pink muscle. As you pull out the cigarette, satisfied, you tell him:

“That’s my good boy.”

taglist. @jazzyluuv @mysicklove @starrierknight @kentophilia @vampcubus @d7dream @feruza22 <3

Bodyguard!Nanami Headcanons

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DNI)

Pairing: Nanami x F!Reader Cw: smut, p in v sex, masturbation, cunnilingus, mutual pining, mentions of violence, jealousy Wc: ~1K A/n: Just some Bodyguard!Nanami brainrot here folks. I'm slowly getting more practice writing for this absolute beast of a man. 💙

Bodyguard!Nanami is a professional that takes all of his contracts seriously. He's the best of the best when it comes to keeping people alive. Enlisted by a mysterious figure with a deep need for secrecy and an even deeper bank account, Nanami is assigned to you. His mission? To protect you using any means necessary.

Bodyguard!Nanami whose relationship with you starts out awkward and rocky. You're not in the market for a babysitter, and you certainly don't need this massive man looming over your shoulder day in and day out. But despite your protests, Nanami quietly does his job without fault, a protective presence that you find yourself getting used to--sometimes even craving.

Bodyguard!Nanami who sparks the curiosity and intrigue of those in your elite social circle. Wherever did you get such a handsome and loyal bulldog? Does he do tricks? Is he as ferocious as he appears? Will he really take a bullet for you? Does he fuck you as rigorously as he protects you?

Bodyguard!Nanami who senses your anger at their hungry stares and mockery of him, and grounds your piquant fury by resting a heavy hand on your shoulder. 'Let it be.'

Bodyguard!Nanami who two months into his contract realizes that he has his work cut out for him protecting you. With your fierce determination, dazzling intellect, and smart mouth there is very little that actually frightens you. And that frightens him.

Bodyguard!Nanami who honors his contract to the letter, putting himself in the line of fire to shield you from whatever threat comes your way. Imagine Nanami's surprise when it's you who ends up pushing him out of harm's way instead.

Bodyguard!Nanami who chastises you the moment he gets you alone for putting yourself at risk for his sake. It doesn't matter that he had a gun pointed to his head, above all else his job is to protect you.

Bodyguard!Nanami who initially, only touches you when necessary--pointedly ignoring the stinging bite of envy along his inner cheek when he sees your suitors' hands indulging in your soft curves so nonchalantly. Their fingers on yours, resting at the small of your back, brushing along your shoulder. It takes every once of restraint Nanami possesses to keep himself from ripping their arms out of their sockets.

Bodyguard!Nanami who takes solace in the fact that even though he's not considered your equal in your social circle, he's the one who knows you from the inside out. He's studied you each and every day, listened to your tipsy murmuring on those long, quiet night drives back home, felt your body melt into his whenever he carried you to your bed. Nanami knows the name of your childhood pet, recognizes the hidden tilt in your voice when you're discouraged, knows that your most favorite thing to do in the world is to try out new recipes with him on rainy Sunday mornings.

Bodyguard!Nanami who groans with pleasured frenzy in the shower as he fists his thick cock to the thought of you. Fantasizing about your body, your eyes, your smell, your taste--arching and coming to the dizzying thought of the sweet sounds you'd make under the rapture of his tongue. But he knows he can't touch you. You're his contract, not his lover.

Bodyguard!Nanami whose desire becomes more difficult to control and near impossible to hide with each passing day. His gaze follows you everywhere you go, drinking in your movement, holding you with his eyes. Nanami desperately wants to kiss you, feel you and fuck you until he can't tell where he ends and you begin. What would his pretty boss sound like coming on his tongue? He wonders.

Bodyguard!Nanami whose self-restraint snaps on that fateful afternoon when you prance out of your bedroom in that beautiful yellow sundress that he's imagined fucking you in countless times. Nanami is on you like a hurricane, pulling up your skirt and nearly tearing off your panties before eating your cunt like a man starved. Frenzied, your bodyguard pins you to the nearest surface and locks your hips in the crux of his strong arms. He delights in your excited moan, growling against your sensitive flesh, sucking and licking your folds and clit until they're twitching and swollen. Nanami won't rest until you're whimpering, trembling, and have drenched him down to his chest with your glistening arousal.

Bodyguard!Nanami who becomes addicted to your flavor, the scent of your sex, and the chorus of your pleasure. He'll eat you out whenever you'll let him but fucking you is a line he won't cross. He'd sever his arm before he'd sully your reputation in the service of his own desire.

Bodyguard!Nanami who never takes days off because a day away from you is nothing short of agony. It is only at your prolonged insistence that he takes some vacation time to go and visit his family out of town for a few days.

Bodyguard!Nanami who stifles his panic when he receives an emergency call on one of his rare days off that you'd been taken for ransom. The words 'she's gone' screeching in his eardrums as Nanami drops everything, immediately ending the call and opening the tracking app on his phone. He traces your last steps in a mad race against time to find you.

Bodyguard!Nanami who tears through an army to get to you, crushing every opponent that stands in his way with no mercy. Whatever their plan, whatever the weapons in their hands, in the end Nanami will always make it to you. Disheveled, panting, purple knuckled, and dripping crimson. The moment Nanami gets his hands on you he frees you from your bonds and holds you close, thanking every god he can think of by name. You're alive. You're alive and safe.

Bodyguard!Nanami who makes love to you that same night he thought he'd lost you forever. He meets you by moonlight, wordless confessions hanging heavy in the cool, blue air before the two of you melt into each another. Nanami strips you naked and worships you with his tongue, loving you tenderly with his lips, gently stretching you open on his girthy cock--wide and trembling and wanting just for him. With teeth on your throat, Nanami groans at the feeling of your sharp nails digging into his back, thrusting deeply into your eager little cunt that squeezes and milks him so affectionately with each surge forward. Swallowing your moans, Nanami paints and restores every line of your form with his reverent hands. All night long, your loyal bodyguard works diligently to put your pieces back together and return you to your rightful place--safe and happy in his arms.

Toji fucking you while Shiu is on the phone because he just can’t help himself. You just make his him feel so good, why should he stop if it’s only his silly handler is calling?

You’re trying to say quiet as your boyfriend’s cock slams in and out of you from below, his hips doing all of the work for you; you tapped out a while ago after your 2nd or 3rd earth shattering orgasm. But how can you not whimper and moan pathetically when Toji is quite literally fucking you into a higher plain of existence?

Shiu can obviously hear all of this. He only called to tell Toji about a job he has for him, but was instantly met with the muffled sounds of your cries and pleas.

“T-Toji! H-hang up…” your voice is so broken, so whiny, both men can tell that you’re nearly past your limit.

“Hold on, doll,” Toji’s gruff voice crackles from the other end of Shiu’s phone, “just a quick call…”

“Fushiguro, this conversation can be held another—“

“Nah,” he interrupts his handler with a huff, “keep going.”

For a moment, Shiu isnt sure if Toji is talking to him or you, who is obviously falling apart on his cock. He only realizes it’s the former when another grunt of his name snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Well…you’ve got a hit for a client we’ve worked with before; a big one, and—“

Shiu stops when he hears a muffled gasp on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of choked out whimpers.

“Yeah?” Toji groans. “Which client?”

He’s currently got you under him now, your legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds into you. Each thrust of his cock perfectly reaches your abused g-spot, making it harder and harder for you to keep your moans hushed. What makes it even more difficult, although, is the fact that Toji’s smug face tells you that he knows this, so when you see one of his hands snake down to rub slow circles against your clit you know that this is all part of his plan.

“W-Well…the client from…” Shiu can barely catch his breath as he sits behind his desk, trying not to give in and palm his aching cock through his work slacks.

“What’s up, boss man?” Toji chuckles from the other end, “something on your mind?”

That sick son of a bitch. Shiu’s fist balls atop his desk, the hand holding his phone shaking slightly from how hard he’s gripping it. “Fushiguro,” he breathes out. He doesn’t have to say anything else, because the tone of his voice tells Toji all he needs to know.

“What? My girl’s pretty little sounds making you all flustered? Or is it the sound of her gushing around my cock?”

Shiu clears his throat, running a hand over his face. “You’re such a sick fuck,” he says.

“I’m the sick fuck?” Toji scoffs jovially. “You’re the one who’s still on the phone.”

Megumi walks you home after a date.

He strolls beside you, brimming in his nervousness. He wants to grab your hand but he thinks, maybe that’s too fast? What if you pulled away from him?

He doesn’t think you will, after all right now you’re gushing about how much fun you had with him.

“Fushiguro?”

Crap…he was too much in his head again. He hasn’t even been listening to you. Crap. Now you’re going to think he’s really uninterested. Maybe you’ll think he invited you on this date out of pity. That couldn’t be further from the truth but Megumi knows…how your mind twists things into sadness.

What does he do? What does he say? He tries to swallow but his mouth is dry and he almost chokes.

But then you place your hand on his arm gently, and your brows furrow in concern.

“Hey, come back to me would ya?”

You say it softly, gently with a small giggle to keep the atmosphere light. As soon as you touch him though he deflates, the anxious energy wheezing out of him like a teapot.

“Sorry I was uh…thinking,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You tend to do that a lot,” you reply with another soft giggle. “Why don’t you take a break from that, hmm?”

Slowly you put your hand against his cheek, and he blushes but he doesn’t pull away. Instead of resting your palm there, you move a finger under his chin and tilt his head up toward the sky.

“Look at the clouds, they’re so nice. And the sky is so blue and the sun! She’s glorious,” you say in a dreamy voice.

Your eyes are closed as you crane your neck up to the sky. The sun looks gorgeous on your skin and Megumi has to force himself to look at the sky like you asked instead of focusing on you.

He finds, you’re right. The clouds are nice, it’s a nice day too. It’s not too hot despite it being the middle of summer and there’s a breeze that carries the scent of the river.

When you’re both done looking at the sky, you meet his eyes again and Megumi think he can see stars in your eyes.

Your distraction worked, he no longer feels like his mind is a jumbled mess. He takes your hand from his cheek and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Thanks…” he mutters, turning his face so you don’t see his blush.

Once he’s dropped you off at home, and he’s received a chaste kiss on the cheek as a thank you he walks back home and it feels as if he’s walking on air.

And now for the first time, Megumi notices how all the flowers are blooming on the path to your home.

continuation of this.

★ thinking about bestfriend!satoru who offers to teach you how to give a blowjob so that you can get some ‘practice’ for if you ever decide to do it to other guys.

imagine his big hand tangling in the back of hair, guiding your curious face closer to his lap as he sits with his lanky legs sprawled out in a manspread atop the couch. “that’s it, pretty girl,” he praises, even though all you’ve actually done so far is simply kneel before him. “do you wanna take it out now? these pants are feeling awfully tight, y’know.”

“o-okay, toru.” you hum, slowly trailing your fingers up his clothed thighs to give the waistband of his sweatpants a small tug while his gentle but firm grip on your hair keeps your gaze locked with his the entire time.

and it’s impossible to hide your reaction of wide-eyed surprise once you realize he’s not even wearing any underwear today, his bare cock slapping against his abdomen once freed and causing your thighs to instinctively press together with how big it is.

“it’s okay to touch it, sweetheart,” satoru coos with a soft grin, wrapping a hand of his own around the base and angling it forward so the leaking head taps teasingly against your heated cheek. “promise ‘lil toru doesn’t bite.”

shaking your head to pull yourself from your daze, you lean down and brush an experimental kiss against the pinkish tip of his cock, earning a deep groan from your bestfriend as a reward.

“mmm… doing s’good for me already,” he encourages, peering down at you through messy white bangs with undeniable tenderness dancing in his bright gaze. “try giving it a little lick too, yeah?”

but unfortunately, satoru doesn’t end up getting much teaching done at all when he can’t stop himself from cumming after just a few laps of your soft tongue along his length — oops!

but it’s fine… because the two of you can just keep trying until he actually lasts long enough to show you the ropes for real, right?