pa𝓲ring TOJI FUSHIGURO x fem reader
tag𝓼 JUJUTSU KAISEN . sfw . neighbor au . fluff & humor . sarcastic fem reader . domestic fluff . reader is implied to be rich . hobo toji fushiguro . oneshot . toji making fem reader his unofficial sugar mum . first impressions . fast burn
The cool, damp air of the hallway clung to your skin, smelling faintly of old concrete and citrus floor cleaner. You shifted the heavy lunchbox to your left hand, your fingers tracing the smooth plastic edges, while your right hand balanced a generous slice of freshly baked, velvety homemade cheesecake.
Anticipation vibrated in your chest since you had been waiting days for someone to move into the vacant unit right next to yours, fully expecting a friendly, civilized face to break up the quiet routine of the floor.
You raised your hand, knuckles hovering an inch from the dark wood of the door, ready to knock. Before your hand could make contact, the door swung open with a dull creak as you squealed slightly—a sharp, involuntary sound bursting from your throat—and instinctively took a step backward.
Your heart hammered against your ribs as your eyes traveled upward—and kept traveling. The man towering over you looked like he had just tumbled out of a ditch, yet he moved with the languid, predatory grace of someone who owned every inch of the space around him.
His dark fringe hung low over his brow, overgrown and untamed, casting shadows across sharp, cut-glass cheekbones and a distinct scar resting at the corner of his lips. He wore a rumpled, faded tee that stretched dangerously taut over the ludicrous expanse of his chest.
His biceps—thick, corded with vein and muscle—looked fully capable of snapping a baseball bat in half without a second thought as a permanent, disgruntled frown tugged at his mouth, matched by dark, dangerously bored eyes that tracked your every sudden movement.
‘Is a squatter breaking into the building?’ The thought flashed frantically through your mind.
He looked… homeless, rugged, and entirely too dangerous for a quiet apartment complex. “You’re the neighbor?” His voice rolled out—a deep, gravelly rasp that felt like sandpaper scraped across velvet.
It vibrated low in his chest, blunt and utterly devoid of polite pleasantries.
Before you could offer a response, his heavy gaze dropped slowly down the length of your body, lingering just a fraction too long at your waist before landing on the neatly wrapped meal and the cake balanced in your hands.
Without asking, he reached out as his calloused fingers brushed against yours—a searing flash of dry heat against your skin—as he effortlessly plucked the lunchbox and dessert right out of your grip.
His thumb grazed the inside of your wrist for a fraction of a second, a deliberate, slow contact that sent a sudden spike of electricity up your arm. “Come in,” he muttered, turning his massive back to you and leaving the door wide open behind him as you let out a strained laugh, folding your arms across your chest as you took another step back into the hallway.
“Oh, no, that’s—that’s fine! I was just dropping those off to be nice. I’ll just head back to my—”
He stopped in the entryway, slowly turning his head to look back at you over a massive shoulder as a slow, lazy smirk tugged at the scarred corner of his lips as his eyes did another deliberate sweep over your outfit.
You were dressed up—neat, elegant, and clearly put-together—standing in stark contrast to his worn-out, threadbare clothes and rugged, unbothered stance. “Right. Wouldn’t want you getting dirt on that pretty little outfit of yours,” he drawled, his tone dripping with a smooth, dangerous flirtation wrapped in an obvious jab.
“God forbid you step foot into a real guy’s place.”
Your cheeks flushed hot with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance as the sheer, unadulterated nerve of this man.
“You know what? I take it back,” you said, stepping up and pushing right past the doorframe into his apartment. As you passed him, you raised your arm and gave his shoulder a firm, indignant nudge.
It was like hitting a brick wall made of solid iron. Instead of moving him an inch, the impact bounced right off his dense shoulder muscle, sending you stumbling slightly sideways.
You gasped, your foot slipping on the hardwood floor, before you managed to catch your balance as the faint scent of woodsmoke, rain, and sheer male heat wafted off him, wrapping around you in the tight entryway.
He didn’t even budge, he just stood there as a silent hum of amused dark energy radiating from his massive frame as you cleared your throat loudly, smoothing down your clothes with a sharp snap of your hands to salvage whatever dignity you had left.
“Right… Lovely ambiance,” you muttered sarcastically, striding into his living room and dropping onto the center of his worn fabric couch as if you owned the place.
The apartment smelled faintly of fresh paint and dust. Unpacked boxes sat stacked in the corner, but the man didn't seem bothered by the clutter.
He walked over to a central support pillar in the middle of the room, leaning his broad shoulder casually against it.
Crossing one thick ankle over the other, he popped open the latch of your lunchbox with one thumb and pulled out the chopsticks you had tucked inside as he began to eat right then and there, standing over you, his sharp dark eyes pinned on your face as he chewed.
He didn’t look at the food once; his eyes remained locked on yours, tracking every subtle shift in your expression. “Toji,” he grunted between bites, offering his name like a throwaway detail.
“Y/N,” you replied, leaning back into the couch cushions, crossing your legs, and staring him down with equal intensity.
You refused to be intimidated by a man who looked like he slept on gravel as he hummed, digging his chopsticks into the rice. A low, mocking chuckle rasped in his throat as he picked up a small radish carved into the shape of a tiny bear. “What’s with the cutesy characters? You trying to feed a toddler, Y/N?”
“I thought my new neighbor was going to be a sweet young girl, not a giant, rugged brute who doesn't know what a hairbrush is,” you retorted smoothly, tilting your chin up to meet his intense stare. “Though I suppose I shouldn't expect table manners from someone who eats standing up like a farm animal.”
Toji paused, the tiny bear hovering inches from his lips. The smirk on his face widened, his dark eyes gleaming with a sudden, sharp spark of genuine amusement.
He liked the bite in your voice.
“A sweet girl, huh? Sorry to disappoint. You’re stuck with me,” Toji said as he popped the radish into his mouth, chewing slowly while his gaze dragged lazily down to your legs, taking his time before flicking back up to your eyes.
“Though, considering how fast you ran over here with a warm meal, maybe you were just desperate for company.”
“I was being hospitable,” you shot back, feeling the temperature in the room rise by an uncomfortable degree under his unblinking gaze. “A concept you clearly know nothing about. But if you keep talking with your mouth full, I’m taking the cheesecake back.”
“Try it,” Toji murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned slightly further off the pillar, his massive shadow falling over you. “See how far you get.”
A heavy, thick silence settled between the two of you, laced with an undeniable, simmering tension that made the air feel syrupy and slow.
When you caught him stealing another subtle glance down at the curve of your collarbone, you didn’t look away—you raised an eyebrow, challenging him silently.
Toji just smirked wider, enjoying the game as he set the empty lunchbox down on a nearby cardboard box with a soft clack, wiping his mouth with the back of his large hand.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a scuffed, outdated phone and tossed it casually into your lap. It landed with a soft thump against your thigh. “Put your number in,” he commanded softly, the underlying roughness in his voice scraping against your nerves in a way that set your pulse racing despite yourself.
“You’re taking me out for dinner tonight.”
You picked up the phone by its edges, holding it up like a piece of evidence. “Excuse me? I’m taking you out? You just ate my entire lunch, Toji.”
“Consider it an investment,” he said, stepping closer until he was standing directly in front of the coffee table.
The sheer physical presence of him was overwhelming, the heat of his body radiating against the cool air of the room. “There’s a convenience store down the block. 8:00 PM.”
You looked up at him, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. You tossed the phone back onto the couch cushion next to you without entering a single digit.
“... A convenience store? Are you serious? You insult my outfit, eat my food, and your idea of a date is a heat-and-eat meal under fluorescent lights? Why on earth wouldn’t you pick an actual restaurant?”
Toji stepped around the coffee table and leaned down, resting his massive forearms on the back of the couch on either side of your head, trapping you within the shadow of his broad shoulders.
The faint, smoky scent of him filled your lungs. Up close, you could see the tiny, faint golden flecks in his dark eyes, and the rugged texture of the scar on his lip as he leaned in just a fraction closer, his face inches from yours, his dark eyes locked onto yours, completely unbothered by your annoyance.
A sharp, lazy grin spread across his scarred lips.
“Because, sweetheart,” Toji murmured, his warm breath brushing softly against your skin, making the tiny hairs on your neck stand up, “I’ve been broke as hell for a while now. And unless you’re paying for the steak, you’re getting a hot dog.”
You leaned forward just a fraction, closing the tiny distance between your faces until your lips were inches from his jawline, meeting his heavy gaze with a slow, smug smile of your own.
“Then you’d better start saving up your pennies, neighbor,” you purred softly, reaching out with one finger to tap his chest—right over his heart—before pushing him back just enough to slide out from underneath his arm.
You stood up, smoothing your outfit, and picked his phone off the couch, finally punching your digits into the cracked screen as you tossed the phone back into his broad chest, which he caught effortlessly with one hand.
“8:00 PM,” you said, walking toward the front door and turning back to give him a cool, parting look over your shoulder. “And if you’re late, I’m locking my door and eating the rest of that cheesecake by myself.”
The afternoon sun poured through the hallway windows, painting the scuffed walls in a warm, honey-colored light. The subtle scent of warm concrete, fresh laundry soap, and the faint metallic tang of the old elevator shaft hung heavy in the summer heat.
Standing on the worn welcome mat outside Toji’s door, you smoothed down the fabric of your outfit, checking your reflection in the small pocket mirror you held.
Your hair was styled, your makeup was pristine, and the sharp, put-together ensemble you had chosen felt like a quiet armor as you raised your hand and knocked twice, the solid thud echoing down the quiet corridor.
When the door swung open, the sudden draft brought with it Toji’s distinct scent—dry woodsmoke, faint tobacco, and unadulterated male heat.
He leaned heavily against the jamb, still wearing a faded, rumpled compression shirt that stretched dangerously over the ridiculous width of his shoulders. His thick biceps, corded with dark veins and heavy muscle, flexed lazily as he shifted his weight.
Toji was about to toss out another lazy, raspy remark when his dark eyes flicked over you but the words died in his throat as his gaze widened, just for a fraction of a second, as his eyes dragged slowly down the tailored cut of your outfit, taking in the deliberate effort you had put into every detail, from your hair down to your shoes.
A subtle shift occurred in his posture; the bored, heavy indifference melted into something darker, sharper, and far more lingering. “Well, look at you,” Toji rasped, his voice a low, gravelly hum that vibrated right through the floorboards.
A lazy, dangerous smirk slowly spread across his scarred lips, his dark eyes locking onto yours with heavy, deliberate heat. “What’s all this for, dollface? Going to a gala after we grab a heat-and-eat hot dog?”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the infuriating smirk plastered on his face. “You wish. And don’t call me that.”
Before he could offer another smug retort, you stepped forward, ignoring the sheer wall of muscle in front of you.
Reaching out, your hands pressed firmly against his chest—the hard, dense muscle beneath his shirt giving virtually no ground—and you forced him to take a step back into his own apartment.
“Turn around,” you commanded, your tone sharp but carrying a playfulness that made his smirk widen. “You are not taking me to a convenience store looking like you just fought a bear in an alleyway. Go put on something nice.”
“I’m taking you to an actual restaurant, courtesy of you being my new, clearly socially impaired neighbor.”
Toji chuckled—a deep, rumble in his chest that felt like velvet against dry throat—but surprisingly, he didn’t argue. He held his hands up in mock surrender, his calloused thumb grazing your wrist as he casually brushed past you toward his bedroom.
“Whatever you say, pretty,” he called over his shoulder, his voice dripping with smooth, unbothered arrogance. “Don’t go poking through my stuff while I’m changing.”
A few minutes passed in the quiet apartment. The air smelled of cardboard boxes, fresh paint, and the faint, lingering warmth of his skin as you crossed your arms, tapping your heel rhythmically against the hardwood floor, keeping your eyes pinned on the hallway.
When Toji finally stepped back into the living room, your jaw nearly dropped. He was wearing a tailored suit—a clean, crisp button-down shirt stretched tightly across his massive chest, dark trousers that framed his long legs, and a dark tie loosely knotted around his neck.
The sight of this rugged, dangerous brute cleaned up so well was almost absurd, the dark sophistication of the outfit clashing deliciously with the sharp scar on his lip and his messy dark fringe.
You let out a loud, incredulous scoff, crossing your arms higher over your chest as your eyes swept over him. “Where on earth did you get a suit, Toji? How much did that even cost you?”
Toji rolled his broad shoulders, pulling at his collar with two thick fingers as if the tie was slowly strangling him. He smirked down at you, dark eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “Two hundred bucks. Bought it off some guy who lost a bet.”
“Two hundred dollars?” you echoed, letting out a breathy laugh as you turned and walked out into the hallway, heading toward the elevator. “You look like you’re going to a funeral for a mob boss. Or getting tried in court.”
A low grunt echoed behind you as Toji closed his door as he caught up to you in two massive strides, his tall, imposing shadow falling over you entirely.
Before you could step onto the elevator, Toji lightly nudged the back of your leg with the toe of his shoe—a playful, blunt kick that sent a jolt through your heel.
“Keep laughing, doll,” Toji drawled, his gravelly voice dropping an octave as he stood beside you, the heat radiating off his broad body wrapping around you in the tight hallway.
He leaned back against the wall, crossing his thick arms across his chest, muscle straining against the fine fabric of the suit jacket.
“If you’re so picky about fashion, why are you living in a place like this anyway? With a dress like that, I figured you’d be hiding out in some massive mansion in the hills.”
You looked up at him, meeting his dark, heavy gaze as the elevator bell chimed softly, the doors sliding open with a dull scrape of metal.
“Because a mansion is too big,” you replied smoothly, stepping into the lift and turning around to face him. “It takes way too long to clean. I’d rather have a smaller space that’s easy to keep in check.”
You paused, letting a small, smug smile touch your lips as Toji stepped in after you, crowding the small metal box with his sheer physical presence. “Just like my neighbors.”
Toji let out a short, rough laugh, his dark eyes fixed on your face as the elevator doors slid shut, trapping the two of you in the heavy, lingering silence of the rising heat.
The dimly lit restaurant hummed with the soft, muted murmur of quiet conversations, the subtle clinking of fine crystal glass, and the smooth, lazy notes of a jazz saxophone playing somewhere in the background.
The air carried a rich, mouth-watering aroma—sautéd garlic, aged wine, and seasoned grilled meats—that instantly set your appetite on edge.
Warm candle flame flickered softly on the linen-draped table between the two of you, casting long, dramatic shadows across the dark wood paneling.
Across from you, Toji looked utterly out of place, yet completely unbothered by it. His massive frame practically overflowed the velvet-upholstered chair as the tailored suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders so tightly that every time he shifted, the fabric strained against the ridiculous density of his back and biceps.
He slouched slightly, one thick arm resting lazily over the back of his seat, his sharp, dark eyes scanning the opulent surrounding before dropping down to the sleek, leather-bound menu resting in his heavy hands.
A slight, disgruntled crease formed between his brows as his calloused index finger, scarred and rough, traced a line of text on the thick cream paper. “What the hell is a duxelles?” Toji rasped, his deep, gravelly voice breaking through the polished quiet of the room.
He didn’t bother lowering his volume, his tone thick with blunt indifference. “Sounds like a scam to charge an extra twenty bucks.”
You reached across the small table, your fingers lightly brushing against the back of his hand to turn his menu toward you as the sudden touch sent a lingering streak of warmth right up your arm.
His skin was warm—almost hot—and noticeably rough against your smooth palm. His dark eyes flicked up from the page, locking onto yours with an amused, heavy gaze that made the air in your chest feel tight. “It’s just finely chopped mushrooms, cooked down with butter and herbs,” you explained softly, keeping your voice steady despite the intense, unblinking way he was staring at you.
You let your finger linger near his hand as you pointed to another item. “And this one—confit—means it was cooked slowly in its own fat until it falls apart.”
Toji hummed, a low, vibration in his chest that felt almost tactile across the narrow table as a lazy, dangerous smirk tugged at the distinct scar at the corner of his lips.
“Fancy words for mushroom paste and greasy meat,” he drawled softly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a deliberate, agonizing second before trailing back up to meet your eyes. “Keep going, doll. What else am I paying for with your imaginary mansion money?”
You scoffed, kicking him lightly under the table—your toe making solid contact with his heavy leather shoe. He didn’t even flinch, just smirked wider, enjoying the way he could stir you up so effortlessly. “Be quiet and listen,” you instructed, though a small, teasing smile tugged at your mouth.
For the next ten minutes, you patiently broke down the complex French terminology, explaining everything from velouté to au poivre. Toji listened in amused silence, resting his chin in his palm, his heavy biceps flexing beneath his sleeves as he leaned closer over the candle flame.
The smoky scent of him—woodsmoke mixed with the crisp, clean starch of his shirt—drifted across the small space, wrapping around you in a warm, suffocating wave.
Every time you leaned in closer to point out a dish, his dark eyes tracked your every movement, stolen glances lingering on the line of your neck and the subtle sparkle of your makeup under the dim lighting. He wasn't paying attention to the food at all; he was watching you.
When the waiter finally approached, notepad ready, Toji shut his menu with a soft, decisive thud. “I’ll take the ribeye. Rare,” Toji said simply, tossing the menu onto the table. “And whatever potatoes you’ve got that don’t have a French name.”
You shook your head with an amused laugh, turning to the waiter. “And for me, I’ll have the herb-crusted lamb chops, medium-rare. Along with a bottle of your dark cabernet sauvignon for the table, please.”
The waiter nodded politely and retreated into the soft amber glow of the dining room.
Once they were gone, the quiet tension settled thick and heavy between you again as Toji leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretching out until his knee nudged firmly against yours under the table.
He didn’t move it back as the steady, heavy pressure of his leg against yours sent a subtle surge of heat pooling in your stomach. “Made me sit through a ten-minute vocabulary lesson just to order a basic steak,” you teased softly, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your hands as you looked at him.
“I like hearing you talk,” Toji murmured, his raspy voice dropping an octave, smooth and dangerous as silk. He reached across the table, his thick, calloused fingers deliberately brushing against yours before taking the wine glass the waiter had just set down.
“Besides... if I’m getting dragged out to a place with tiny portions and cloth napkins, I might as well make you work for it, Y/N.”
You caught his dark gaze over the rim of your glass as the waiter poured the deep red wine, the rich, fruity aroma filling the air.
You didn’t break eye contact, offering him a slow, challenging smile. “Careful, Toji,” you purred softly, taking a slow sip of the wine. “Keep pushing your luck, and I’ll make you pay for the bottle.”
Toji took a slow, deliberate sip of his red wine, his dark eyes fixed on you over the rim of the glass. The deep crimson liquid contrasted sharply against the rugged cut of his jaw, the scarred corner of his mouth curving up into a lazy, familiar smirk as he lowered the crystal stemware to the white tablecloth.
“Debt?” Toji rasped out, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating deep in his broad chest. His dark eyes glittered with dark amusement under the warm amber glow of the candlelight.
“Dollface, I’m already in debt. If you make me pay for this bottle, I’ll be running from bookies before we even get to dessert.”
You let out a soft, amused scoff, swirling the deep red wine in your own glass. “Then it’s a good thing you’ve got a capable neighbor to bail you out, isn’t it?”
“Relying on a pretty girl’s charity,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, silk wrapping around rough gravel. He leaned his forearms against the table, the thick, corded muscles of his biceps straining tightly against the fine fabric of his tailored suit coat.
The sudden shift in posture brought his broad chest closer, his heavy male warmth and the rich, smoky scent of woodsmoke and crisp cotton washing over you in the small space. “Dangerous habit to get into.”
“You didn’t seem to mind when you were eating my homemade food standing up in your living room,” you countered smoothly, holding his intense, unblinking gaze.
You didn’t flinch as he leaned closer; instead, you leaned in just a fraction to meet him halfway, your voice dropping to a teasing purr. “Or did you forget who made that cheesecake you’ve got waiting back at the apartment?”
Toji’s eyes narrowed slightly, a sudden, dangerous spark of heat flashing in his dark irises. His gaze dropped slowly from your eyes down to the soft curve of your lips, lingering there long enough to make the air in your lungs feel thick and heavy.
A stolen, quiet moment stretched between you, heavy with an undeniable, simmering tension that made your pulse jump. “I didn’t forget,” Toji drawled softly, his rough voice scraping against your nerves in a way that set your skin alight.
Under the table, the heavy, deliberate pressure of his knee nudged firmly against yours, staying pressed there, hot and unyielding. “I just like seeing how much bite you’ve actually got under all this dress-up.”
Before you could deliver another sharp retort, the waiter quietly glided back to the table, holding two heavy porcelain plates. “Your herb-crusted lamb chops, and the rare ribeye,” the waiter announced smoothly, placing the steaming dishes down on the white cloth before making a polite bow and stepping back into the low hum of the dining room.
The mouth-watering aroma of seared meat, melted butter, and fresh rosemary immediately filled the air between you as Toji’s gaze finally broke from yours, dropping down to the massive steak on his plate.
He picked up his knife and fork, his thick fingers moving with surprisingly effortless, fluid precision as he sliced off a thick piece of meat. It was perfectly cooked, tender and red in the center.
He popped the piece into his mouth, chewing slowly as his dark eyes flicked back up to track your every move. “Well?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you picked up your own silverware. “Is it better than the convenience store hot dog you were begging for?”
Toji swallowed, a slow, dark grin stretching across his scarred lip. He leaned back into his velvet chair, his broad shoulders practically swallowing the seat whole as he took another casual sip of his wine.
“It’ll do,” he grunted softly, his gaze lazily scanning over the delicate cut of your shoulders before settling back on your face. “Though I still think you just brought me here so you could stare at me in a suit.”
You scoffed, a genuine laugh bursting from your chest as you cut into a lamb chop. “Don’t flatter yourself, Toji. The suit just makes you look slightly less like a squatter.”
“Ouch,” Toji muttered, though the gleam in his dark eyes proved he was loving every second of the back-and-forth. He reached across the small distance of the table, his thick, calloused index finger lightly tapping the edge of your hand before resting near your glass.
“Eat up, pretty,” Toji said softly, cutting into the thick, rare meat with effortless grace. “If I’m going into debt tonight, I’m at least getting my money’s worth out of watching you.”
You picked up your fork, rolling your eyes with a soft laugh, though the lingering flush on your neck said plenty. “Eat your steak, brute. And don’t chew with your mouth open.”
The night dissolved into a thick, intoxicating blur of amber candlelight and heavy cabernet.
What started as an uneasy truce between neighbors had melted into a low, simmering heat, built on quiet giggles, sharp banter, and the undeniable pull drawing you together across the small, linen-draped table.
Every time the waiter cleared a plate or topped off their glasses, Toji leaned back into the velvet booth, broad shoulders stretching the dark fabric of a suit he clearly wasn’t used to wearing.
His messy dark fringe fell over his brow, his dark, sharp eyes lazily tracking the room as the restaurant was filled with pristine, stiff-backed patrons, chewing in rigid silence and exchanging hushed, polite murmurs. “Look at the guy at the corner table,” Toji rasped softly, his deep voice carrying that signature gravelly rumble that vibrated straight down your spine.
He gestured vaguely with his fork, his massive bicep flexing tight against his sleeve. “Guy looks like he’s chewing on a piece of cardboard and trying to remember if he turned the iron off. Who comes out to eat just to look like they’re sitting in traffic?”
A sharp giggle escaped your lips before you could stop it. You quickly brought your hand up, knuckles pressing to your mouth as your eyes crinkled at the corners. “Toji, stop,” you whispered, leaning across the white tablecloth, your voice laced with hushed amusement. “He’s just eating his dinner! Be nice.”
“I’m being realistic,” Toji murmured, a lazy, dark smirk spreading across his scarred lips as he rested his heavy chin in his calloused palm, his dark eyes dropping to your mouth.
The slow, agonizing heat in his gaze made your breath hitch. “Whole room is full of stiff, stuck-up stiffs who think paying three figures for a piece of parsley makes them royalty.”
You caught him staring, the lingering glance dropping over your mouth like a heavy blanket. Rather than looking away, you held his gaze, a mischievous spark lighting up your eyes as you rested your elbow on the table, leaning in until the warm scent of your perfume mixed with his subtle aroma of woodsmoke and crisp cotton. “Oh, so everyone here is just a stuck-up stiff?” you purred softly, tilting your head, your fingers tracing the stem of your crystal wine glass.
“Am I an exception, or are you just lumping me in with the rest of the high-maintenance crowd, neighbor?”
Toji’s dark eyes flicked back to yours, genuine amusement gleaming in his heavy, hooded gaze. He reached out, his thick, scarred forefinger lightly flicking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
His fingers were surprisingly gentle, his knuckles grazing the side of your cheek, leaving a trail of searing heat. “You’re a pain in the ass,” Toji drawled smoothly, his voice dropping an octave into a raspy, quiet purr.
“That’s what you are. Pushing me into my own apartment, making me put on a tie... but nah. You’re not like them.” His thumb brushed lazily against the edge of your jawline. “You’ve got too much bite to fit in with these stiffs. And you actually laugh at my jokes instead of calling security.”
“That’s because your jokes are terrible, and someone has to keep you humble,” you retorted instantly as you tapped your knee against his under the table—a firm, deliberate nudge that met the solid, unyielding iron of his leg.
He shifted his weight, his heavy thigh pinning yours against the booth, a constant, grounding heat radiating through your clothes. “Humble?” Toji scoffed softly, picking up his glass and taking a long swallow of the dark red wine as he set it down, locking eyes with you, that dangerous spark blooming in his chest. “Doll, I’m wearing a suit I won in a bet, eating fancy lamb on your dime, and sitting next to the prettiest person in the building. I’ve got nothing to be humble about.”
You cocked an eyebrow, leaning back just an inch and looking him up and down with an unbothered, playful scrutiny. “You are way too confident for a man currently wearing a jacket with a missing top button.”
Toji paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as his smirk twitched. He glanced down at his chest, realizing you were right—the suit was a fraction too tight across his massive shoulders, and one of the dark threads had snapped earlier that evening.
“Details,” he grunted, though a faint flush of color hit the back of his neck. “Still look better in it than anyone else in this joint.”
“Keep telling yourself that, big guy,” you hummed, reaching across the table to delicately straighten his lapel, your fingers brushing over his broad chest. “Now sit up straight. You’re slouching.”
Toji let out a low, rough laugh, though he actually complied, sitting back and letting you fix his collar. “Look at you, bossing me around. Careful, sweetheart. People might think you actually like having me here.”
“I’m just protecting my investment. I paid for the meal, I at least deserve a view that doesn’t look like a disgruntled bodyguard,” you replied smoothly, taking a slow sip of your wine.
By the time the bill arrived, the dining room was nearly empty. Toji watched with an amused, lazy smirk as you pulled out your card.
“Look at you. My knight in shining armor.”
“Don’t get used to it, brute,” you said, sliding the tray back to the waiter with a sweet smile before turning back to face him. “Next time, you’re paying. Even if you have to go win another bet.”
Toji stood up, his massive height restoring his towering presence over the small table as he extended a broad, calloused hand toward you, his fingers open in a rare gesture of courtesy. “Next time, huh?” Toji murmured, his voice low and raspy. “I’ll hold you to that.”
When your fingers slid into his, his grip was warm, firm, and entirely unyielding. But as you stepped out of the booth, Toji didn’t let go.
Instead, he used his size to subtly shift you ahead of him, his hand sliding down from your fingers to cup the warm curve of your lower back, guiding you through the dimly lit restaurant toward the exit.
The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped out onto the quiet street. The city hummed softly in the distance, but the pavement outside the high-end establishment was clear. Toji lingered right behind you, his presence a heavy, warm shadow shielding you from the crisp breeze.
“Cold?” he asked, his voice dropping into that low rumble right beside your ear.
“A little,” you admitted, shivering slightly as you looked up at him.
Before you could react, Toji reached up, unbuttoning his suit jacket with quick, careless movements as he draped the heavy wool over your shoulders.
It was far too big, smelling intensely of him—cedar, leather, and the clean scent of his skin. The immediate wall of warmth wrapped around you like a blanket. “Better?” he grunted, crossing his massive arms over his chest. In just his thin, dark dress shirt, the sharp lines of his broad shoulders and tight waist were impossibly clear.
“Much better,” you murmured, pulling the lapels of his jacket tight around yourself. You looked him up and down, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Though you’re going to freeze.”
Toji scoffed, stepping closer until he was towering over you, cutting off the cool wind entirely. “Takes a lot more than a little breeze to get to me, doll. Besides, you look better in it anyway.”
He leaned down, his face suddenly inches from yours as the sharp, jagged scar at the corner of his lip was stark in the streetlamp’s glow, his dark eyes searching yours with an intense, unhurried focus.
For a second, his cocky veneer slipped, replaced by a raw, quiet gravity that made your heart hammer against your ribs. “You know,” Toji whispered, his thumb lightly hooking into the belt loop of your pants to pull you half an inch closer, “most people would be begging me to take them home right about now.”
The sudden proximity sent a jolt straight down your spine, but you didn’t back down as you leaned up on your tiptoes, bringing your face level with his, your breath fanning across his scarred lips.
“Is that so?” you murmured, resting one hand against his solid, warm chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. You gave him a slow, teasing smile. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not ‘most people.’ You’re going to have to try a lot harder than a borrowed jacket and a cocky attitude, Toji.”
Toji’s eyes darkened, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. He let out a low, breathy chuckle that vibrated right through your hand.
“Oh yeah, dollface?” he drawled, his grip on your belt loop firming just enough to keep you grounded against him. “Is that a challenge?”
“Consider it a boundary,” you said softly, tapping his chest with your index finger before taking a deliberate step back, slipping out of his hold just enough to make him reach for you. “Now walk me home, brute. You’ve still got points to earn.”
Toji stood there for a beat, watching you walk ahead of him in his oversized jacket. He shook his head, a genuine, dark laugh escaping his chest as he caught up to you in two long strides, matching your pace and draping a heavy arm comfortably over your shoulders.
“Points, huh?” he muttered, pulling you tight against his side as you walked down the quiet sidewalk together. “You’re ruthless, dollface.”
“Only with you,” you replied, pressing into his side as the night stretched out ahead of you.
est aug 2026 © 00tiger —all rights reserved.
