Masterlist
Toji Fushiguro
Sugar Baby Hell, Sugar Person, Kiss It Better , Love Fushiguro
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
YOU ARE THE REASON
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@bootoji
Masterlist
Toji Fushiguro
Sugar Baby Hell, Sugar Person, Kiss It Better , Love Fushiguro
Love Fushiguro
Pairing: SugarDaddy!Toji x SugarBaby!FemReader
Synopsis: You’ve been involved in a sweet situationship with Toji Fushiguro for 3 years. Money and sex are the trade-off for a life of luxury. Over the years, you seem to have blurred the lines between sugaring and wanting a life with Toji.
part 4: You try to pick your life after the Fushiguros destroy it but it’s not that simple. You have to pick your battles and sometimes….you lose
[part 1], [part 2], [part 3]
I’m going to try to post an update of Sugar Baby Hell at some point this week! Thank you for the kind words of encouragement and waiting for an update 💗
Why are you quitting? You just started writing!🥲
I got rude comments about my writing so I just no longer wanted to write anyone 😭
No! Why aren’t you continuing it?! You just started writing and I was excited to see your other works! What happened?
🤧 I got discouraged so I decided to no longer continue writing.
Update
There have been a few asks about the next update of Sugar Baby Hell. Unfortunately, I will be discontinuing it and will no longer be writing. Thank you for all the support, and I apologize for ending on a cliffhanger.
Ghost of a Tether
MASTERLIST PAIR Toji Fushiguro x f!reader SYNOPSIS "Ghost of a tether": the haunting, lingering connection a spirit has to the mortal world, often bound to a specific location or object
Zenin Toji worked hard to escape the prison forged for him within the Zenin Clan. Hardened by years of abuse and the need to prove his worth, he settles into a reckless routine of indulgence funded by his new line of work. Just as he's convinced himself he's cut off every tether holding him to the jujutsu world, a presence he can't ignore begins to linger at the edges of his newly constructed routine, threatening to unravel the detached man he’s fought so hard to become.
Chapter 0
I need moreeeee of sugar person pls😔😔✌🏼
😂 im working on the next part! Don’t worry!
love you boxer toji
pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Reader
warnings: vampirism, grief, loss of a spouse, blood imagery, emotional vulnerability, dark romance, morally grey character, power imbalance
authors note : I finally decided to get into writing again, yay! I plan to make this an au series, maybe a full fic one weekend. Any feedback is greatly appreciated!
writing © carmineoath. || wc: 441. || dividers © enchanthings
Vampire!Tojiwho swore that once he lost his wife to the wicked curse of mortality and all the illnesses that came along with it, he would never try again for love.
Vampire!Toji who spent years in his castle; his only companions were his books, his sword, and the wine he tricked himself into believing was blood just to control his hunger.
Vampire!Toji who knew he was cursed once more, plagued even when he first saw you. A soft little creature that had wandered too close in curiosity to his estate. You hadn’t meant to, but the grand opulence was too much for your curious mind to ignore. (And most certainly, the rumors in the village did not help your wandering thoughts, a monster in the shadows of the elegant grandeur.)
Vampire!Toji who couldn’t help himself. Your blood was sickly sweet, like a forbidden treat he tried so hard to ignore. He knew he should escape to his library or maybe even the catacombs beneath, but- he instead opened the door and allowed you inside.
Vampire!Toji who eyed your neck as he walked just slightly behind you to allow you to wander his abode, the soft and supple flesh calling out his name. Tempting him.
Vampire!Toji whose thoughts were broken instantly when you spoke. “Everyone calls you a monster, you must be rather lonely.” You say softly, eyes twinkling as you look at his towering figure. Nobody cared for his thoughts or feelings for quite some time- not since his late wife’s passing.
Vampire!Toji who for this first time in what felt like centuries- was speechless. Red eyes blinking slowly, tongue gliding along his fangs in thought, hands clasped behind his back, and his ascot suddenly feeling too tight.
“I do not frighten you, little dove?” He asks, softer than he had in ages. Toji Fushiguro was not a man of kindness, gentleness, nor welcoming after the death of his only love 50 years prior. He was a vampire, a man of blood and loyalty to the darkness because it asked nothing of him. Built in the shadows, hollow and broken and quiet, and indifferent to the ways of mortals. Until now.
“Should I be frightened?” The question was a whisper in return from you, allowing him to give you a reason to take away the kindness and soft interest you have already began to feel towards the man out of pure curiosity. You were much to naïve, maybe even a bit dumb for so blindly trusting a man you had just met.
But that was quite alright- Vampire!Toji would protect you. And monsters were very good at keeping what is theirs.
Kiss It Better
Pairing: SugarDaddy!Toji x SugarBaby!FemReader
synopsis: you’ve been involved in a sweet situationship with Toji Fushiguro for 3 years. Money and sex is the trade off for a life of luxury. Over the years you seem to have blurred the lines between sugaring and wanting a life with Toji.
cw: MDNI, toxic relationships, smut, cheating (Toji is married), age gap (reader in her 20s, Toji is in his 30s), oral (m&f receiving), mating press, dirty talk, fingering, public sex, mentions of revenge porn, degradation, choking, anal sex, anal fingering, loss of virginity, porn with plot, (5.6k words)
[part 1] [part 2]
A/N: Part 3 of Sugar Baby Hell; Finding out about Toji's children has wrecked you, but you reminisce about finding out about his wife years ago. Are you going to be able to let go of him, or is it easy for him to kiss and make up?
Sweet Thing
(Toji and His Shy Girl)
Toji has never wished that you were a more brash person. You're as sweet as can be towards him and anyone you interact with, and he loves it—loves how such a strong rule is rooted so deep in your character: treat people the way you would want to be treated.
What he doesn't love is when you don't get that same respect in return. When you get treated like you're some nasty clump of gum adhered to the sidewalk, just there being stepped on. He hates it. You wilt and you look so sad, and it's like a switch flips in your brain that makes you think everyone is going to talk to you that way, because you stop talking.
Been watching the Olympics and now I’m thinking of Ice Skater!reader x Hockey Player!Toji and how they meet at the Olympic Village. They represent different countries but find themselves bonding over the food especially the chocolate lava cakes!
Static & Silence pt 4
DOUBLE UPDATE AS AN APOLOGY FOR MY ABSENCE!
The bathroom was a masterpiece of cold, clinical luxury—the kind of space that belonged in a high-end interior design magazine, not a home. The walls were clad in slabs of charcoal-veined marble, and the walk-in shower featured a rainfall head the size of a dinner plate. It was fancy as hell, but the water just didn’t hit the same as the normal pressure from the old, rattling pipes in my apartment. Every fixture was brushed gold, gleaming under recessed LED lights that made the room feel as bright and sterile as an operating theater.
It was annoyingly beautiful. To me, it was just a monument to everything I hated about the Hoshigaki clan: wealth used as a weapon, and beauty used to mask a total lack of heart.
I scrubbed the night’s grime away, the hot water beating against my sore shoulders until my skin turned a raw pink. When I finally stepped out, steam clinging to the mirrors in thick ghosts, I walked into the walk-in closet expecting to find sterile, clan-issued robes. Instead, my heart did a painful, nauseating somersault.
Neatly hung and folded were my own clothes. My worn-out flannels, my favorite oversized hoodies, even the jeans with the frayed hems I’d been meaning to patch. They had raided my apartment.
A hot wave of violation surged through my chest, the Reservoir in my soul giving a sharp, jagged hum that made the lightbulbs overhead buzz. It wasn't just that they’d taken my things; it was the thought of some faceless clan lackey rifling through my laundry, touching the life I’d spent five years building. Was my apartment a hollow shell now? Had they just tossed my plants? Was my favorite mug—the chipped one I used every morning—broken in a box somewhere?
I grabbed a worn t-shirt and some pajama pants, the fabric smelling faintly of my old life, and crawled into the king-sized bed. The sheets were silk—too smooth, too cold—but Stink didn't seem to mind. He hopped onto the duvet, kneading the expensive fabric with his claws before curling into a purring ball against my side.
“Just us against the world again, Stink,” I whispered into the dark. I didn't fall asleep so much as I finally succumbed to sheer exhaustion.
The morning sun didn't gently wake me; it pierced through the gaps in the motorized blinds like a laser. A groan slipped through my lips as I flopped over on my stomach, burying my face in a pillow to block out the light. I only managed to drag my sorry ass out of bed when Stink started clawing at my back and yelling in my ear, letting me know it was time to stop being lazy and feed the little monster.
I went through the motions of my routine with the mechanical precision of a ghost. I brushed my teeth and threw my hair into a claw clip—one that had been organized neatly in the fully stocked vanity in the corner of the room. I ignored my reflection; I looked pale, tired, and my eyes held too many questions I wasn't ready to answer.
I headed out with a mission: fuel. Stink followed at my heels, his tail twitching in anticipation as we headed down the stairs and into the vast, echoing kitchen. The house was deathly quiet, the kind of silence that made every floorboard creak sound like a gunshot. I began opening the minimalist, handle-less cabinets, searching for anything resembling breakfast. I found a pantry stocked with high-end proteins, organic grains, and enough espresso pods to power a small city. Daichi clearly intended for us to be well-fed prisoners, but the old man must have forgotten my hatred for coffee and my addiction to carbonated beverages. There wasn’t a single soda in sight. Or maybe he did it on purpose. Bastard.
I was reaching into a low cabinet for a bowl when a shadow fell across the white marble floor. I straightened up too fast, nearly banging my head, and found myself staring at a wall of black cotton. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The "nothingness" of his presence was more recognizable than a face—a cold, silent void in the air that made my internal compass spin.
Toji was leaning against the kitchen island, already holding a mug of coffee. I guess that partially explained the excessive stockpile of espresso. He looked far too awake for a man who had looked like death warmed over eight hours ago. He was wearing a fresh black shirt that did nothing to hide the sheer scale of him, and his damp hair suggested he’d already had his own run-in with the luxury showers.
“Pantry’s to the left,” he said, his voice a low morning rasp that felt like sandpaper. “Cat food is in the bottom drawer by the fridge. Your dad didn’t even skimp on the expensive stuff for the hairball.”
I clutched a box of cereal to my chest like a shield. “Good morning to you, too, ghost.”
He didn't smile, but the corner of his scarred lip gave a tiny, microscopic twitch. He pushed off the island, looming over me in the small space between the counter and the fridge. “Eat up, princess. We have a long day, and you look like you’re one stiff breeze away from fainting.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I watched Stink investigate the new electronic water fountain, his ears twitching at the gentle hum of the motor with a small smile gracing my lips. I’d spent the last twenty minutes obsessing over his setup—placing his favorite feather toys by the window and ensuring his litter box was tucked away in the laundry room. I may be a prisoner here but I would be damned if I didn’t make Stink as comfortable as possible. Besides, It was the only thing I could control in this marble tomb.
Satisfied he was settled, I turned back to the gargoyle at the island.
“The perimeter is locked,” Toji said, not even looking up as he set his empty mug down. The sound echoed against the high ceilings. “You stay here. You don’t cross the threshold, you don’t open the windows past the security latches, and you don’t leave. Not until the bounty on your head is either paid or the people holding the purse strings end up in a ditch.”
What the fuck did he just say?
“I’m sorry, but that won't work. I have a shift today,” I snapped, my hands curling into fists. The thought of John sitting at that bar waiting for me, or Hunter wondering why I never showed up, made my chest ache. “I made a promise to someone that I would be at Amber’s tonight and I won’t break it. I have people who rely on me.”
I hadn't realized how strict Daichi was going to be, but I refused to let him turn me into a ghost in the life I’d built for myself.
Toji let out a short, dry laugh—the kind with zero humor. “You’re not going anywhere. You walk out that gate, and you’re a walking target for every curse-user with a debt to pay. I’m not chasing you across the city because you’ve got a work ethic.”
“But isn’t that why you’re here? To make sure I'm safe? Can’t you just sit in the corner of the bar while I work?” I asked incredulously. What was the point of a bodyguard if I stayed locked in a box?
He merely shook his head, the wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “I don’t get paid to ask questions, princess. I get the orders, I follow through, and I make my money.”
Of course. He was just another leech feeding on my father's blood money. He didn't give a shit about what I wanted.
“I won’t be stuck here! I can’t just stay here forever while the world keeps on spinning without me. I have responsibilities, a life.” I stepped toward him, my voice rising. “I don’t care about the money my father offered you, or the bounty on my head. I care about the life I spent years building for myself. And compared to being monitored day in and day out by my father like some fucking lab rat, taking my chances by going about this on my own seems much more appealing.”
“There are no cameras inside,” he interrupted, finally meeting my gaze. His eyes were cold, indifferent to my temper. “The old man is a prick, but I guess even he has limits. There are sensors on the porch and the backyard fence. We have ten acres of land back there—it’s fenced in and private. You want air? Go outside. But stay within the silver line.”
I paused, the wind taken out of my sails by the lack of indoor cameras. I looked around the sterile room, then back at him curiously. “How do you know so much about the security? You just got here last night.”
He didn't answer immediately. He reached into his pocket, leaning back with a privacy that was almost physical, seemingly content to end our conversation.
“Hello? I’m talking to you,” I pestered, crossing the kitchen to invade his space. “How long have you been lurking in this house?”
He sighed, the sound of a man losing his patience with a stray dog. “Two weeks,” he said stoically, looking me in the eye from his seat at the island. “Your father spent fourteen days making sure the retina scans and the localized barriers were perfect. He wanted everything ready for his princess to move in. And yet here you are still complaining about being forced to live a sheltered and high-class life in a house on the level of a 5-star hotel.”
The word princess dripped from his tongue like venom. He swept a hand toward the expensive marble. “I didn’t realize I was signing up to babysit a girl who can’t handle a little luxury. Most people would kill for a setup like this, but I guess when you grow up with a silver spoon, the gold ones just don't shine as bright, right?”
A hot, stinging pressure built behind my eyes. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him about the bruises I used to hide under my training gear, the blood I’d scrubbed off these very floors, the life that was being pushed on me that caused me to leave 5 years ago, and the fact that I’d been working for tips and sleeping on a futon for five years to get away from this "luxury."
But I looked at his scarred lip and his empty, ocean-dark eyes, and the words died in my throat. I wouldn’t give him that. I wouldn't be vulnerable to a man who was nothing but a void. If he wanted to believe I was a pampered brat who didn't know the value of a dollar, let him. It was safer if he hated a version of me that didn't exist.
“Think whatever you want,” I said, my voice dropping to a cold, steady level. “But I’m not staying in this house all day with you.”
I turned on my heel, grabbing a bag of cat treats from the counter. “I’ll be in my room. Try not to choke on your own ego while I’m gone.”
I'M SO GRATEFUL FOR FINDING YOUR FICS PLEASE KEEP WRITING💕
Thank you 😊 💛 I’m so happy to hear that you enjoy them!!
I NEED MORE OF SUGAR PERSON, BECAUSE WHATTT.
😭😭 haha I got you! That was a cliffhanger for sure!