Toji is a nasty, perverted man. You don’t know how many times you’ve seen him mouth at your dirty underwear, commenting on your discharge flow— the thickness, the color, the smell, the taste, you name it.

There’d be times were he came up out of nowhere, crouched down and stuck his face between your cheeks. Hands spreading them apart over your clothing, moving his head side to side and getting in there while inhaling and groaning at your smell.

He was nasty in every sense of the word. But maybe, that’s just what came with dating a man decades older than yourself. He was from another generation after all, and maybe… a bit twisted in the head.

You came home sweaty from your day out. Your clothes clung to you in a way that was absolutely nasty, and you swore you could smell yourself.

Your nose wrinkled as your passed through your doorway, noting that yes. You could indeed smell yourself.

Though, you weren’t the only one.

Toji came up like a damn light. Big hands crawling up your hips and ass, pawing at you and sticking his nose against your neck, inhaling multiple times like a damned dog.

„Don’t push me away, let me smell you“