How do I explain to you people that interracial relationships are okay
Not every white person dating a POC is fetishizing. White people can be respectful and responsible when it comes to culture and relationships and not everyone has bad intentions.
Asian people can date Black people without you saying shit like “your kids will be so pretty” they’re not dating for pretty kids. They’re dating bc they like each other.
Someone can dress their partner in clothing from their culture if they want. Someone can take their partner to cultural events if they want.
People in relationships can share cultures, experiences and love without it being toxic or skin deep.
Their partner isn’t culturally appropriating. Their partner is being shown the ultimate form of love, bc their partner trusts them and loves them enough to share their history and heritage.
Yeah, dating someone from your culture is nice bc you automatically have similar experiences. But you’re not limited to dating people with the same experiences. Loving someone is sharing and growing and being together.
Interracial relationships aren’t always toxic, and some of y’all need to stop projecting onto other people.
while taking your wedding pictures in a park, little kids come up to you believing you're a magical princess! so obviously sukuna is your knight in shining armor!
it was supposed to be a simple photo-shoot; one setting of many to come. the park was beautiful and the nature was perfect for the vibe you were going for so it was only natural to take your pictures there. you and sukuna had taken your first look pictures here and of course, he cried no matter how much he tried to stop the waterworks. you were now taking your solo shots, the wind blowing in your veil and dress making the shots perfect. so perfect that you seemed to attract a crowd of onlookers— very tiny onlookers.
you heard their whispers and turned to the side to see a small group of children crowded together. they point at you and mutter as sukuna narrows his eyes slightly, he never was a fan of the leeches called children.
"oh hi there!" you say, voice kind. "i'm sorry, were you guys trying to play here in the grass?"
sukuna is close to telling them to scram when one of the young girls steps forward, "miss, are you a princess?" the others behind her nod in agreement and you even hear comments of them calling you magical.
your heart swells at this, "oh sweetie, i'm not a princess."
"you have to be!" one of the boys exclaims, seeming to be sure of himself. "you're pretty like a princess and you're wearing a dress!"
"yeah and he's a knight!" another girl says, pointing at sukuna who was standing to the side, arms crossed.
before sukuna can even defend himself, another adult jogs up to them. "oh my goodness, i am so sorry! kids lets go, leave the nice lady to take her pictures." the woman seems to be a mother of some of the children and she tries to usher them away as she apologizes to you.
"please, can we take a picture with the princess!" one of the kids asks. the others are quick with their pleads, all asking to get a picture and talk with you, the "princess".
the mom goes to apologize again but you wave her off, "i truly don't mind taking a pictures with the kiddos." the kids cheer and swerve around the woman just as you finish your sentence. and while they swarm around you, you can tell that they are careful to not step on your dress. you crouch down to be at their level as you compliment their hair and ask them what they like to play at the park. some of them are still shy, truly believing that you were a magical princess from some story book. the others were lively and asked you all sorts of questions. like what kind of princess you were, where your kingdom was, and why your knight seemed so grumpy. you ultimately gave up on trying to convince them that you were no princess but you did laugh at the comment of them asking why your knight was always seen with a scowl.
you take your pictures with them, some on their parents' phones and others with your photographer. after all, how perfect was it to capture this moment. being authentically called a princess on your wedding day was practically a sign from the universe. just before the kids leave, they all to take one last group photo but this time, with your 'grumpy knight'.
"you must be pretty strong to protect the princess, huh mister knight," one of the boys asks.
sukuna doesn't know why, but even he decides to play along, "gotta protect her from the monsters, kid."
the kids are in awe and sukuna doesn't even know what possessed him to pick up two of the kids and put one on each shoulder. all the kids giggle in excitement as two more kids jump on him, one on each arm that was used to keep the kids on his shoulders stable. the last kid is the girl that first approached you. you pick her up and tell the kids to smile at the cameras. after some photos were snapped, you and sukuna put the kids down even with their protests. each of their respective parents come to take them away, all apologizing for the trouble and offering congratulations on your wedding.
as the kids wave you goodbye, you see sukuna wave back out of the corner of your eye. you turn to him with a grin on your face, "since when were you such a fan of kids, ryo?"
"i'm not," he says gruffly, quickly putting his hand down to stop waving. "hate those booger brats."
"mhm, sure you do."
EXTRA:
years after your wedding and a handful of anniversaries, you always find yourself looking through the photo album of your wedding. no matter how many times you look at the photos, you always find yourself stopping at a certain page. the page that contained several pictures of you and sukuna at the park surrounded by children that were not yours.
sukuna finds you reminiscing on the photo album and doesn't even need to look to know exactly what page you're on.
"wonder where those brats are at now," sukuna says. you hum in response, allowing him to continue with, "probably still walking around calling your ass a princess."
"are you saying im not a princess, ryomen?"
"with how long i've been married to you? you're a queen now, baby."
a/n: first post in a while omg. ive been working back to back #freeme (i say knowing i asked for that sched so i could make money) this is also based off the cutest tt i saw last week but forgot to save :(( ALSO WANTED TO BUST THIS OUT DURING COMMERICIAL. MY CREAM CHEESE CHIVE KNICKS IN FIVEEEEE
“You need a bath,” Toji huffs when he’s handed baby Megumi. The baby drools, making a worse mess than what he’s already made. He’s covered in mushy peas, mango juice and milk– The baby just about eats anything in his way. In the baby’s defense, he’s just like his father.
“Do that then, while I make dinner,” you answer, and Toji shoots a dirty look in the baby’s way. Megumi shoots a gummy smile in Toji’s direction, almost making the man’s heart melt. Still, he manages to remain stoic. Toji takes him, letting you walk away.
Toji smells the top of the baby’s head, scrunching up his nose. The facial expression remains, when he puts the baby at a distance. Toji looks at Megumi with furrowed brows, and Megumi looks back with a smile.
“You stink, buddy,” Toji says, as if the baby could say something back. Though Megumi does answer in his own way, giggling at his father’s words. Toji tilts his head, perplexed by the reaction. “That’s not funny, buddy.”
Yet another giggle. Toji has not said anything that should incite a reaction like this from Megumi, yet the baby is giggling. Toji doesn’t necessarily think he’s very funny, but it seems that Megumi would beg to differ.
While Toji doesn’t necessarily express himself, he does love to hear the baby’s laugh. Though he’s stinky and desperately needs a bath, Toji still blows a raspberry on the baby's belly, trying to incite more laughter from his baby boy. It works, making Megumi laugh out of his mind.
“You’re giggly today,” Toji comments as Megumi continues to laugh. It's the cutest sound that has graced his ears thus far. Toji fights back on smiling as he stares back at Megumi. Fighting back a smile isn’t usually an issue for Toji, but the little guy sure does make the task hard. “Let’s go bathe you, stinky.”
One year after your divorce, you run into your ex husband at a friend's birthday party. Neither of you expected to see each other again, and neither of you had prepared for the memories that come with it.
Part 2
The tears were already spilling over, hot and silent. You hated that you were crying in front of your ex-husband the only man you had ever loved so deeply because it made you feel so pathetic, a bitter ache settled in your chest. you hadn't even been able to defend your own honor, let alone the memory of your late baby. In the end, Sukuna had been the one to step up and handle it.
Wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, you forced yourself to look away from him. But Sukuna was already staring. It was an old habit of his from when you were together whenever you spoke, or even when you were just standing near him, he would lock his gaze onto you as if he were trying to permanently memorize every single line of your face.
You used to love it.
Right now, though, the raw sorrow reflecting in his dark eyes was too much to bear. You didn't want him to feel pity for you. You didn't want him to feel any of this pain.
Fumbling with the zipper of your bag, you pulled out your phone, sniffing softly as you tried to open the Uber app. But before your trembling fingers could tap the screen, Sukuna spoke.
His voice was rough and gravelly, a grating edge left over from all the shouting and the violence he had unleashed on that disgusting woman. He was still radiating a tangible, dangerous heat that made him look intimidating and, despite everything, so much attractive.
"Hey. Come on, I’ll drop you off" he said.
You immediately shook your head, the embarrassment burning fresh in your throat. You had humiliated yourself enough in front of him tonight.
"Y/n" he said, his tone softening just a second "I won't bite. Just let me give you a ride. No funny business, I promise."
I promise. Hearing that word from him felt like a ghost from the old days. God, you missed everything about him. But the fragile remains of your pride wouldn’t let you admit it out loud.
Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you gave a small, hesitant nod. You took a few tentative steps toward him until you were standing right in his shadow. As he stood up to his full height, towering over you, it became instantly clear why everyone else was terrified of him just by a single glance.
You looked up, watching as he gently lifted his helmet from the bike's handlebar. "I don't have a spare with me" he murmured, holding it out. "Take this one."
As you reached out, your fingers brushed against his. The brief contact sent a sharp, electric jolt through your veins, and the world around you seemed to shift.
Instantly, your mind dragged you backward into the past. You remembered the early days of your marriage, when he had bought you a helmet in your favorite color, complete with customized Hello Kitty stickers he had painstakingly tracked down because he knew you loved them. He used to make a ritual out of putting it on your head every single time you went for a ride. Those had been your favorite moments looking up at him through the visor, your eyes teasing, watching the harshness in his deep red gaze completely melt away just for you.
"Need some help with it?"
His rough voice shattered the memory, pulling you back to the cold reality of the present. You quickly shook your head, rejecting the offer even though you were visibly struggling with the heavy straps.
Sukuna stared down at you for a long moment, a quiet understanding passing over his features. He gave a single, slow nod, dropped his cigarette onto the asphalt, and crushed it beneath the sole of his heavy black boot.
"Give me your address" he commanded, swinging his leg over the motorcycle.
You were still fumbling blindly with the helmet's buckle when Sukuna suddenly reached out. His large hands caught the sides of your head, pulling you gently but firmly toward him. Your breath hitched, your throat going completely dry as he leaned in. With practiced ease, his fingers worked the clasp beneath your chin. When the strap clicked securely into place, he pulled his hands back, leaving a lingering warmth on your skin.
You blurted out your address, your hand automatically reaching for his broad shoulder to steady yourself as you climbed onto the back of the bike. The fabric of your dress pulled tight, making you feel entirely exposed. "Can you... can you drive slowly? So my dress doesn't fly up?"
"Yeah."
Wrapping your arms carefully around his waist, you held onto him for dear life. Sukuna kicked the bike into gear, the sudden, powerful roar of the engine vibrating straight through your chest and causing you to grip him even tighter.
Beneath your touch, Sukuna’s entire body tensed up. He could swear on his life that he hadn't felt this profoundly nervous since he had proposed to you eight years ago a day that had left him sweating through his clothes, terrified of a rejection.
But right now, with your arms securely locked around his midsection and your chest pressed against his back, a desperate, pathetic longing washed over him. He wanted to just close his eyes and exist in this exact moment forever. Having you this close was intoxicating, and it frightened him. he knew he was dangerously close to losing his grip on reality.
He wanted to keep you right here. He knew it was pathetic physically and mentally exhausting to be this hung up on an ex-wife but no other woman on Earth could make his chest ache the way you did. He would gladly wear the title of a whipped, broken man for the rest of his life rather than settle for anyone else.
It had been a year since he started therapy. Uraume had practically forced him into it, and he had gone just to stop the nagging. But this the suffocating weight of how much he still wanted you was something he hadn't even dared to share with his therapist. He was terrified of the judgment, especially since the entire point of the sessions was to help him move on.
Moving on was a lie. He knew he never would.
Sukuna cleared his throat, the sound deep and resonant against the wind. You tilted your head up slightly, the oversized helmet shifting awkwardly on your skull.
"You didn't eat anything at that fucking party" he called out over his shoulder. "I can stop by a cafe. We can catch up... respectfully."
His voice had a distinct, unfamiliar tremor to it. Having known him for most of your life, you could recognize his hidden anxiety in an instant.
You wanted to decline. Every logical part of your brain told you to say no. But the words wouldn't come. You used the excuse that you were genuinely starving, and besides, the two of you hadn't technically ended things on a hateful note. If anyone had been toxic during the split, it was you throwing tantrums, demanding a divorce out of overwhelming grief. He could have fought you on it, could have declined to sign the papers, but he hadn't. You still bitterly regretted how you had handled the end of your marriage, even if your stubborn ego refused to let you say it.
"Okay" you murmured softly, surprised he could even hear you over the rush of the wind.
You tentatively peeled one hand away from his waist, trying to smooth down the hem of your dress as it whipped wildly in the breeze.
Almost instantly, the motorcycle began to slow down, A strange, fluttering sensation bloomed in your stomach. You hadn’t even had to ask. he just knew exactly what you needed without a single word being spoken.
The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable, familiar silence, punctuated only by Sukuna’s occasional annoyed grunts at passing traffic or sharp curses muttered under his breath when a car cut him off.
Before long, he pulled up to the curb in front of a small, cozy-looking cafe. It was located in a neighborhood you recognized all too well. Currently, you were staying in a rented apartment, but you were supposed to move into a new house next week one you had bought entirely on your own. It was painfully close to the house Sukuna had originally bought for the two of you. When the divorce was finalized, he had offered you a massive alimony settlement, but you had proudly turned it down.
Sliding off the seat, you carefully unbuckled the helmet and handed it back to him. Sukuna took it, killing the engine and pulling the key from the ignition. You walked toward the entrance side by side, the silence between you thick and heavy with unsaid words, but neither of you dared to break it.
Stepping inside, you scanned the room for a quiet corner. Spotting an empty booth near the back, you walked toward it with Sukuna trailing silently in your wake. When you reached the table, he stepped forward, his large hand gripping the back of the chair to pull it out for you. You offered him a small, grateful nod as you sat.
As he took the seat opposite you, his massive frame seemed to shrink the entire booth, making the space feel so much small and intimate. He set his expensive helmet on the floor a piece of gear that probably cost more than the cafe's entire monthly lease.
You looked around the room, your eyes tracing the decor, and Sukuna did the same. For a moment, a wave of mutual regret washed over you both. this felt entirely too weird, too forced. But it didn't have to be.
"So... you still working around here?" Sukuna finally asked, breaking the ice.
You let out a soft, breathy hum. "Yeah. It's a bit of a drive from my current place, but I’m transferring to a different hospital next week."
He nodded slowly, staring at you with an intensity that made it clear he genuinely cared about the mundane details of your life. A young waitress approached the table, a bright, youthful smile plastered on her face as she handed over two menus before stepping back. You opened yours, your eyes scanning the rows of food as your stomach growled.
When you glanced up, Sukuna abruptly snapped his gaze away, caught red handed staring at you.
"Are you still working as much as before?" you asked gently, wanting to share the burden of the conversation.
"Of course I am."
"How is life? How is everyone?" You rested your chin in your palm, looking at him fully. "I haven't seen Uraume in forever... and what about Yuji? Does he still come by to visit you?"
A ghost of a smile touched Sukuna’s lips. God, he had missed this. Your eyes, your lips, the entire cadence of your voice. He found himself wishing his eyes could take a physical photograph of you right now, just so he could freeze this frame and keep it in his pocket forever.
"the brat lives with me permanently now" he said, his voice dropping into a calm, steady register. "I adopted him. And Uraume is doing fine."
Your eyes drifted down to his arms, tracing the dark, intricate lines of his tattoos. They were the exact same markings your fingers used to trace late at night when the two of you were tangled in bedsheets. A quiet sigh escaped you, and you looked away, a stray thought crossing your mind: Does he still have my name tattooed on his skin, or did he have it removed?
'He definitely removed it' you told yourself bitterly.
Realizing you had zoned out, you quickly cleared your expression and focused back on his words. "You adopted Yuji? Why?"
"His grandparents were getting too old" Sukuna explained softly, his expression hardening slightly. "The old people could barely feed themselves, let alone a growing kid. And frankly, I don’t trust them. They’re Kaori’s parents, after all."
Kaori. Yuji’s mother. The woman who had abandoned her own child to run away with another man right after her husband passed away. You had always despised her for that. Back when you and Sukuna were married, Yuji hadn't been able to visit often because he lived far away in the countryside, but Sukuna had always made it a point to bring him over whenever school holidays rolled around.
The waitress returned to the table, pen poised over her notepad. You hadn't even looked at the menu properly yet, but Sukuna didn't need to look at all.
"A hot tea, a bowl of chocolate ice cream, and a black coffee" he ordered smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours.
The waitress scribbled it down, flashing Sukuna a lingering, flirtatious smile he was an undeniably attractive man, after all, before taking the menus and walking away.
But you barely noticed her. Your chest ached with a sudden, sharp pain. The fact that he still remembered your exact comfort order, without even having to think about it, cut deeper than any insult could have
.
Clearing your throat to mask the emotion, you said "I’d really love to see Yuji sometime."
Instantly, a spark of genuine warmth lit up Sukuna's dark eyes. "Yeah? I can arrange that. He'd like it." He leaned back, a familiar, teasing smirk playing on his lips, though it couldn't quite hide the desperate curiosity eating him alive. "What about you? You... dating anyone? Got a boyfriend?"
You offered a small, bittersweet smile. "Mhm. I'm actually living with Bruce right now."
The smirk vanished. Sukuna’s entire posture locked up, his shoulders turning to stone. "Bruce? Like...the Batman? You're dating Batman or something?" He tried to chuckle, but it sounded forced, choked by a sudden surge of jealousy.
You let out a soft sigh. "It's my cat's name, Sukuna. Mr. Bruce."
The relief that washed over his face was almost comical. He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "A cat? Huh. You always wanted one."
His voice trailed off, dipping into a profound sadness. The memory hung heavily between the promise he had made years ago, back when you both were still trying to get pregnant. He had told you that if you couldn't get pregnant, he would buy you the biggest house and fill it with cats just to see you smile. But then, by some miracle, you had gotten pregnant. And then, tragically, you lost the only piece of the future that gave you both hope.
Seeing that you had finally gotten a cat made him wonder if you had given up on that future entirely. Were you still the same girl he had fallen in love with? The girl who used to kiss his cheek every single night and whisper that he was her entire world?
When the waitress returned to place the coffee, tea, and ice cream between you, Sukuna was profoundly grateful for the interruption. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to hear the answers to the questions running through his mind. You were a mystery to him now.you always had been, his favorite mystery to unravel but the distance between you felt vast. He kept his eyes glued to his black coffee, tracing the rim of the cup.
"Thank you, Ryomen" you said quietly. "For what you did at the party. Though... maybe the violence could have been avoided."
He let out a sharp, mocking scoff. "That old fucking hag deserves worse, Y/n. Stop being so fucking nice to people who walk all over you. She’s been a miserable bitch since you and Shoko were both in med school. Shoko never had the spine to say anything to her face while she was running her mouth about you."
You didn't argue. You just let him scold you, a strange comfort wrapping around you because he was right. He always had been.
Picking up your spoon, you began to eat your ice cream in silence. Sukuna blew on his coffee, taking a slow sip.
The rest of the conversation was fragmented and dry. The initial burst of familiarity faded back into a stifling, awkward quiet. Neither of you really knew how to bridge the gap anymore. It was painful, but maybe it was safer this way. being this close to him, seeing the ghost of the protective man he used to be, was tearing your heart to pieces.
When the bill arrived, you reached for your purse, but Sukuna leveled you with a sharp, warning glare. He pushed your hand away, slapped his card onto the ledger, and paid before you could argue.
Once outside, you slid his helmet back over your head and climbed onto the bike for the short ride to your apartment building. As the wind whipped past, you closed your eyes, memories of the day you met him and the happiest years of your life flashing behind your eyelids. He was a harsh, cruel man to the rest of the world, but with you, he had always been soft.
The bike slowed to a smooth stop. "We're here," Sukuna called out, his deep voice vibrating through his chest.
The sound pulled you sharply from your thoughts. You unwrapped your arms from his waist and stepped off the bike. Pulling the helmet off, you handed it back to him, forcing a tight, awkward smile. It broke your heart to realize how naturally your genuine smiles had turned into polite, guarded formalities.
"Alright then. Thank you" you sighed, turning on your heel toward the entrance of your building.
"Y/n."
His voice stopped you dead in your tracks. You turned back around, waiting for him to speak. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he struggled with the words.
"You... you were the best mother our daughter could have ever asked for" he said, his voice thick and rough with an emotion he rarely showed. "And you're going to be a great mother to your future kids. Remember... it was never your fault. Our angel deserved to live. The fucking bastard who caused the accident is rotting in a cell right now, getting his karma. But even that's too good for that mf"
The words hit you like a wave, and your vision blurred instantly. "Th...thank you, Sukuna" you choked out, fighting with every ounce of your being to keep from sobbing.
"Take care of yourself." he grunted, pulling his own helmet down over his face.
You stood on the pavement, watching the taillight of his motorcycle disappear into the city traffic, the tears finally tracking freely down your face.
Sukuna rode faster than he ever had before. Lately, speed didn't frighten him. He didn't really care about the risks of dying anymore. He had already lost the only two things he had ever truly lived for his wife and his baby girl.
Living had become nothing more than a daily chore, a checklist of survival, and seeing you tonight had just made the burden infinitely heavier.
Pulling over to the side of the road, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he had memorized over the past year. It rang twice before a calm, professional voice answered.
"Hello? Sukuna?"
"I'm coming over," he growled, hanging up before she could reply. He threw the bike into gear and tore off in the opposite direction.
Ten minutes later, Sukuna was sunk deep into a large leather couch the kind of furniture designed to make a man relax, though it did the exact opposite for him. He glared at the ugly house plants scattered around the room and the massive, suffocating bookshelves packed with psychology texts behind the desk.
He locked his eyes onto the woman sitting across from him. Samantha, his therapist, was in her mid-forties, wearing the oversized glasses he absolutely despised and a rigid bob cut he constantly judged. He hated the way she looked at him, hated the heavy silence she used to force him to speak.
"I saw her today" Sukuna finally muttered.
Samantha placed her chin in her hand, nodding slowly, giving him the space to continue. "How did it feel?"
Sukuna exhaled a long, ragged sigh, looking away. "It felt fine. Normal. I just saw her... that’s it. Nothing changed" he lied, trying to maintain his usual mask of indifference.
Samantha hummed, her eyes narrowing slightly behind her lenses. "So you're telling me her presence had no effect on you? Is that right?"
Sukuna stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before looking down at his large, tattooed hands. "We both know that's a big fucking lie. It affected me."
Samantha offered a sympathetic, knowing look. She was entirely used to his behavior by now. one week he would walk into her office declaring he was fully cured and ready to find a new woman, and the next week he would admit he couldn't even stand the thought of another person touching him. Sukuna was, without a doubt, the most complex patient she had ever taken on.
"Did the two of you talk?" she asked, wanting to unpack the trigger that had caused him to demand an emergency late-night session.
"Barely," Sukuna growled, the anger flaring back up in his chest. "I punched Shoko's so called mother because that bitch was talking shit about my daughter. She made Y/n cry. I can't stand seeing her cry."
"And did punching her solve the problem?"
"You bet your ass it did" he snapped. "And if she ever opens her mouth around Y/n again, I’ll make sure she meets God early."
"So you still rely on violence as your primary solution."
Sukuna let out a dark, mocking chuckle. "I don't give a shit. I don't know... when I saw her, it felt like my entire chest stopped working. She hasn't changed a bit since the divorce. If anything, she just got more beautiful. I can’t move on, Samantha. And she... she’s probably already over it. Also... She told me she has a cat now"
He took a deep, shaky breath, the vulnerability heavy in the air.
"I would say that's a fair amount of conversation for two divorced people" Samantha observed quietly.
"It wasn't enough for me."
"Did she notice the ring?"
Sukuna’s hand automatically flew to his collar, his fingers reaching beneath his shirt to pull out a heavy silver chain. Hanging from the links was his thick wedding band, the inside band still sharply engraved with their wedding date and their initials joined together.
"No" he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. "She didn't see it."
"If she does eventually move on with someone else... will you become violent?"
Sukuna went entirely still, the question hanging like a heavy weight in the quiet office. He let out a long, exhausted sigh, all the venom leaving his posture. "If I were going to be violent with her, I never would have signed those damn fucking papers in the first place, would I? I knew what she needed back then. She was losing her goddamn mind with grief, and divorcing me was the only thing she felt she could control. I let her go so she could survive. If she finds someone else... all I can do is hope the bastard treats her like royalty. Because if he doesn't, I will personally kill him."
Samantha adjusted her glasses, studying him closely. "Is this love, Sukuna? Or is it an obsession?"
"I don't fucking know" he whispered, looking at her with a raw, agonizing glare. "If it were an obsession, I would have stalked her. I would have forced her to stay. I would have tracked down her new apartment, her new job, forced myself into her life. I never did any of that. All I’ve ever wanted...is for her to be happy. Even if it means she has to be happy without me."
Your husband was a man who worshipped the ground you walked on. Today, looking back, you were glad that despite everyone in your life desperately warning you not to date him, you had followed your heart anyway. You knew exactly why they had been so against him from the start. Toji was four years older than you, his lifestyle was reckless, and he was actively struggling with a mountain of personal issues.
But you hadn't cared. When you first met him, you had both mutually agreed to keep things entirely casual just hookups and great sex, no strings attached. At least, that was the lie you both chose to believe at the time. Because certainly, casual hookups didn't involve Toji picking you up on his motorcycle to drive you around the city on late-night dates, nor did they involve you baking him fresh trays of cookies. But that was exactly what your "casual" arrangement looked like.
By the time you fully realized you had fallen deeply in love with him, your life was suddenly thrown into absolute chaos. Your traditional, unyielding father decided that the moment you graduated university, he was going to marry you off. When you broke the terrifying news to Toji, he went completely mad like super duper mad.
And that explosive reaction was the exact moment you discovered that he had fallen just as deeply, violently in love with you, too.
You were currently hunched over in your bedroom, speaking into your phone in panicked, frantic whispers so absolutely no one would overhear you. Fortunately, no one was actually home at the moment except for the family servants. Your father was an extraordinarily wealthy tycoon, and he had already arranged for you to be wed to the son of one of his most prominent business partners.
But after days of relentless begging, crying, and pleading, you had finally convinced your father to at least sit down and talk with Toji. Your father had reluctantly agreed, stating that if he actually liked the man, he might consider letting you marry him instead.
You were completely convinced that Toji would easily win him over. After all, when he wanted to be, Toji Fushiguro was a charmer.
Admittedly, Toji's current financial situation was far from stable. He split his time working as a mechanic at a local garage and competing in dangerous, brutal underground boxing matches. He significantly preferred the underground boxing because it made him a lot of quick, heavy cash, but you always begged him to stop competing. You were constantly worried sick that he would end up seriously hurt.
"Toji, please... just dress normally" you pleaded through the phone, your heart racing. "I don't want you to leave a bad impression on my dad. Please wear the expensive suit I bought you, and don't forget to bring the chocolates and flowers I told you to get-"
"Woman. Relax" his rough, gravelly voice murmured over the line, sending a delicious shiver straight down your spine. "Your old man will be impressed. And even if he isn't, I am taking what's mine. With his consent or without it."
You let out a soft sigh, your cheeks warming up. "I know... but please, just don't do anything stupid. I love you."
"I won't. Love you more. Take care of yourself" he said gently before the line went completely dead.
The next day arrived far too quickly. You dressed with extreme care, putting on an elegant, knee length black silk dress that looked classy and chic. You styled your hair into a sleek bun and applied your makeup flawlessly. You had bought Toji an expensive, tailored black suit with your own money, knowing he couldn't afford something like that on his own, and you had chosen a matching black dress so the two of you would look perfectly unified.
Your high heels clicked sharply against the polished marble floor as you walked downstairs. The servants were bustling around the massive living room, perfectly adjusting the dining table, while your father and mother emerged from his private office. Your father looked imposing in his tailored, custom suit, and your mother looked elegant in a rich brown designer dress.
They took their seats on the plush couch, and you sat right beside them, your hands trembling in your lap. At any second, Toji was going to knock on that door, and the journey to finally becoming his wife would begin.
A sharp, firm knock echoed through the foyer. Your eyes lit up instantly. Your father was completely absorbed in a conversation with your mother about corporate investments and interior design, entirely ignoring your anxiety.
A servant quickly walked toward the massive front door, balancing a silver tray in one hand while swinging the heavy wood open with the other. You sat up completely straight, holding your breath, waiting for Toji to stride in and effortlessly impress your upper class family.
And stride in he did.
But the moment he crossed the threshold, your eyes widened to the size of saucers not in happiness, but in agonizing awkwardness.
Toji hadn't worn the expensive suit. He hadn't brought the chocolates or the flowers. Instead, he was wearing a simple, visibly stained grey shirt, baggy grey sweatpants, and a pair of cheap, worn out slippers. He smelled powerfully of cheap cigarettes and metallic, dried blood. Every single servant in the room froze, staring at him in utter, jaw dropping shock. Toji calmly took a long drag from his cigarette, locked his green eyes onto yours, and casually stubbed the burning ash right out onto the silver tray the paralyzed servant was holding.
Then, he threw you a lazy, incredibly slow wink.
You were completely frozen to your seat, unable to move a single muscle as he walked confidently into the center of your family's living room. He looked up at the towering crystal chandelier, letting out a low, casual whistle of appreciation.
Your father slowly turned his head, staring at the man with an expression of profound, unmatched disappointment. Your mother, on the other hand, was too deeply horrified to even form words.
Toji casually extended a large, rough hand toward your father for a handshake. Your father stared down at the massive, scarred hand for a long, torturous moment before letting out a sharp sigh. He gave Toji’s hand a brief, incredibly stiff shake and immediately pulled away, wiping his palm against his trousers.
Toji merely smirked. Without waiting to be invited, he slammed his massive frame down onto the pristine designer couch opposite your parents. He spread his long legs out lazily, tossing one ankle over his knee as he stared right back at your father.
Your father’s eyes slowly traveled down Toji's clothing, taking in his unbothered, cheap behavior before his gaze firmly landed on the ragged slippers on his feet. It was completely disgusting. your father was clearly thinking that he wouldn't even let a common street servant marry with toji, let alone allow this lowlife to touch his only daughter.
Toji instantly noticed your father judging his footwear. With a sharp grin, he reached down, pulled one of the slippers off his foot, and held it up.
"Are you staring at these, Father-in-law? Look, there's even a hole right here in the toe" Toji chuckled roughly, waving the slipper in your father's face before casually sliding it back onto his foot.
Your father was completely too stunned to speak. He looked like he was actively on the verge of having a massive heart attack.
"Look, old man" Toji started, his voice dropping into a serious, grounded tone. "Your daughter told me to lie to you. She wanted me to come here wearing some fancy suit, holding chocolates and flowers and all that nonsense. But look at me that ain't who I am. I don't have money right now, alright? But I am going to treat her like a total queen. Even if my own clothes are torn to shreds..." Toji’s green eyes gently flickered over to your face, softening for a fraction of a second. "She will always wear the most expensive clothes. She will be protected. I don't need your damn money, and I ain't marrying her for your wealth. I just need her." He looked back at your father, dead in the eyes.
For a single, fleeting second, a spark of hope ignited in your chest. Your father hated liars, and Toji had just spoken the raw, unvarnished truth. You genuinely thought your father might actually respect his honesty.
Until your father finally spoke, his voice trembling with sheer rage.
"I don't know what is wrong with the youth of today" your father hissed, standing up. "Listen to me, you cheap, disgusting boy. I will never hand my daughter over to a man who doesn't even know how to behave like a civilized human being. And how exactly are you going to treat her like a queen? Huh? By dealing drugs? By stealing? And then, at the end of the day, you'll just cheat on her and abandon her. That is exactly the kind of man you are. A pathetic piece of shit like you doesn't even deserve to be a doormat in my house—"
You gasped loudly, the sound tearing from your throat. "Dad! Stop it!"
Your father threw you a terrifying, silencing glare, forcing you to quiet down. Your eyes desperately sought out Toji, but his face had completely reverted back to that dull, empty expression.
"First, take a look at yourself, you disgusting lowlife" your father sneered, pressing his hand against his forehead as his blood pressure spiked. "You are not even on the level of the shoes on my feet. But... you know what? Maybe I will let you marry my daughter."
Your eyes widened instantly, a massive wave of hope rushing through your veins.
"If you get down on your knees and lick this entire marble floor clean with your tongue, then maybe—"
"Dad! Enough! Stop it right now!" you screamed, violently standing up from the couch.
Heavy, hot tears threatened to spill over your eyelashes as you glared at your father. It was absolute torture seeing the only man you loved so deeply get humiliated and insulted like a dog, while you were completely powerless to stop it.
Toji suddenly let out a low, dark chuckle. He stood up slowly, towering over your father. "Alright then, dear Father-in-law. Take care of yourself. But just remember...karma is a total bitch. Today you might be the king, but tomorrow, someone else takes the throne." Toji offered a small, sarcastic smirk.
If you hadn't known him so intimately, you would have truly believed that your father's cruel words hadn't affected him at all. But you knew him. You saw the subtle, deeply wounded look hidden deep within his green eyes.
"Throw this piece of trash out of my house!" your father roared to the security team.
Immediately, two massive, heavily built bodyguards marched into the living room toward Toji. Toji just let out a lazy sigh. Before the guards could even reach him, he casually leaned across the space, cupped your jaw, and pressed a firm, lingering kiss right against your blushed cheek, right in front of your gasping mother and furious father.
When the bodyguards went to grab him, Toji smoothly shrugged their hands off his shoulders and walked out of the mansion entirely on his own terms.
"Prepare your daughter" your father barked loudly at your mother, his voice booming through the entire house. "The wedding is in exactly two days. I have had absolutely enough of this shit."
You were entirely broken. You ran upstairs to your bedroom, slamming the door shut and violently tearing off the elegant black silk dress. You could hear your mother knocking frantically on the door, but you just screamed, "Leave me the hell alone!" as you buried your face deep into your pillows, sobbing uncontrollably.
You didn't understand why Toji had acted that way. Why couldn't he have just worn the suit? Why did he have to ruin everything?
You grabbed your phone and rang Toji’s number over and over again, but he refused to pick up, making you cry even harder. As the hours passed, a dark, devastating thought began to poison your mind. You began to believe that he had done this entirely on purpose. You thought that he didn't actually want to marry you that you really had just been a casual, temporary fling to him, and this was his cowardly way of getting rid of you without having to break your heart himself.
You cried and sobbed into the dark room until your body finally gave out from exhaustion, and you fell into a heavy sleep.
The next day arrived with brutal speed. Your entire schedule was completely booked by your mother. You were dragged to a luxury parlor, where your entire body was subject to painful hair-laser treatments. You had tried calling Toji four more times four fucking times and even after your father explicitly threatened to confiscate your phone, you still managed to secretly text him twelve times. Every single message was left completely on unread.
You were sick with worry. Your entire mind was entirely consumed by thoughts of Toji, while your mother oblivious stood over you, holding up sets of immensely expensive diamond jewelry and designer wedding heels.
You hadn't eaten a single bite of food since the previous night. You felt entirely nauseous, and you wanted to scream as your family forced you to taste test different wedding cakes, when every single flavor tasted exactly like ash in your mouth.
At this point, the only option that felt comforting was swallowing a bottle of poison.
Tomorrow was going to be your wedding day. Tomorrow, you were going to walk down an aisle and hold another man’s hand instead of Toji’s. You were going to be forced to look into a stranger's eyes instead of the deep green ones you loved so fiercely. You were going to have to kiss someone else, who isn't Toji.
"I don't want any of this, Mom! Stop it!" you finally screamed, your voice cracking as the nearby servants flinched. "Just choose the fucking cake yourself! You're already choosing and deciding my entire life without even asking me if I'm happy!" You burst into violent tears, turning on your heel and sprinting back up to your room.
"Baby, please!" your mother called out after you, but she eventually just sighed, turning back to the expensive fabrics and gold trinkets.
You tried calling Toji one last time, but the automated voicemail answered. In a state of utter desperation, you called your mutual friends from the garage, but they told you that Toji hadn't been picking up his phone for them either. You were completely, entirely broken. Tomorrow was the final deadline. If you couldn't be with Toji, you didn't want to live.
You cried yourself to sleep once again, the weight of the world crushing your chest.
The wedding morning arrived like a sudden slap to the face. The entire mansion was elaborately decorated with white floral arrangements, and people woke you up at the crack of dawn. You were entirely exhausted. A team of celebrity makeup artists and high-end hairdressers crowded your room, chatting excitedly about how absolutely beautiful you looked.
And you really did look beautiful. When they finally laced you into the heavy designer wedding gown, it clung perfectly to every single curve of your body. You looked like an absolute angel descending from heaven.
But inside, you were a corpse. You had secretly tried calling Toji again and again all morning, only to fail every single time. This was it. You were finally giving up. You resigned yourself to your fate, ready to walk downstairs and marry a man whose face you barely knew.
Your bridesmaids entered the room, looking gorgeous in their matching gowns, tears welling in their eyes at the sight of you.
Your father then walked in, genuine tears in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. He walked over, pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your forehead, and left the room to let you collect your thoughts.
Finally, your mother stepped inside. The moment her eyes landed on you, she burst into heavy tears. She walked over, her hands trembling as she looked at her baby girl all grown up.
"Hey, Mommy" you whispered entirely devoid of emotion, reaching up to wipe tear from your cheek.
"Look at my baby girl... you look so breathtakingly beautiful" she whispered, her voice shaking as she gently touched your shoulders.
You simply nodded, closing your eyes. You braced yourself, waiting for her to utter the words that it was time to walk down the stairs to meet your future husband.
"Those high heels are going to be really uncomfortable while running," your mother said softly, her tone suddenly changing. "Change into a pair of flat shoes."
You blinked, staring at her in complete confusion. "Running where? To my so.called future husband?" You sighed, reaching up to adjust a pin in your hair.
"Fortunately, no," your mother whispered, a small, knowing smile breaking across her face. "Toji is waiting for you right behind the estate."
Your eyes widened to their absolute limits. For a horrifying second, you thought she was playing a cruel joke on you, but her expression was completely, entirely serious. Your breath hitched as you screamed, "What?!!!"
"Shh! Quiet, silly girl! Don't ruin it" your mother urged quickly, pushing a pair of sneakers into your hands. "Be quick. I am going to go back out there and distract the guests and your father. Put your shoes on and go through the cellar." She gave your arm a tight squeeze and quickly hurried out of the room.
You felt like you were going to explode into tears of pure disbelief. You frantically kicked off the painful designer heels, shoving your feet into the flat shoes. Bunching up the massive layers of your expensive white wedding gown in your arms, you slipped quietly out of your room. You rushed down the back staircase, bypassing the grand living room where the chatter of hundreds of guests echoed, and entered the dim basement.
You threw open the heavy cellar exit door, stepping out into the crisp morning air. You sprinted past the manicured hedges toward the back gates of the estate, pushing them open with all the strength you had left.
And there he was.
Toji was leaning casually against his black motorcycle, looking like he owned the entire world. He was smoking a cigarette, but this time, he was wearing the immaculate, expensive black suit you had bought him. In one hand, he was clutching a massive bouquet of your favorite flowers. And resting securely on the leather seat of his bike was a small, velvet ring box.
The moment his green eyes locked onto you, you let out a loud sob, sprinting forward and slamming your body directly into his broad chest.
"You came..." you whispered into his suit jacket, clutching him as if he would disappear.
"I always will" Toji murmured, his deep voice vibrating against your ear. "Now hop on the bike. And... you look absolutely breathtaking."
His eyes traveled slowly over your face, filled with a profound, quiet reverence. He was so much glad to finally have his girl in his arms. The truth was, Toji hadn't abandoned you at all. He had spent the last forty eight hours straight in the underground boxing ring, taking on the most brutal, highly dangerous high stake fights back to back just to earn enough cash to buy you the most flawless diamond ring possible. He had broken three of his ribs and his entire body was covered in deep, purple bruises hidden beneath the suitbut looking at you right now, he knew it was worth every single drop of blood.
You threw your legs over the bike, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist as he revved the engine. He tore down the street, driving incredibly fast away from your past life. You let out a loud, joyous giggle, squeezing him tighter as a massive grin broke across Toji's face.
"Where are we going?!" you shouted over the roar of the wind.
"To the registry office to make you Mrs. Fushiguro!" he called back.
Four years later.
Your hands were planted firmly on your hips as you glared at the absolute disaster area in front of you. The entire living room was completely messy the beautiful, house that you and Toji had been living in for the past few years. Toji had eventually become a highly successful, wealthy professional boxer. He was the type of rich where he had actually personally bailed your father's corporation out of a massive financial crisis a year ago when his business needed money.
And you were so happy the day Toji stood Infront of your Father and looked at him like your father had looked at him few years ago.
But right now, you were absolutely angry You had only stepped out of the house for an hour to go grocery shopping, and you had returned to find the entire living room turned into a chaotic costume party wasteland. Clothes and plastic props were strewn absolutely everywhere.
"Toji Fushiguro!!! Get your ass downstairs right now!" you yelled up the stairs.
A moment later, he emerged, stepping down the stairs. And what exactly was he wearing? A full, adult sized Batman costume. And tucked securely under his massive arm was your one year old baby boy, Megumi, who was dressed in a matching little Spider.Man outfit. Toji hadn't pulled the mask over his face, leaving his chubby and cute features completely visible.
"We are here to save the world, Mommy! Me and Spider Man!" Toji announced, lifting a chubby little Megumi high into the air like a prize lottery ticket.
You rolled your eyes hard, but a smile instantly threatened to break your angry facade. You walked over, scooping giggling Megumi into your own arms and pressing a flurry of loud kisses against his soft, chubby cheeks. The baby kicked his little legs in pure delight.
"Where are my kisses?" Toji asked, leaning his face down toward your lips.
You quickly stepped to the side, dodging him. Toji let out a dramatic gasp of offense.
"Clean up this living room right now." you ordered.
"But why is it just me?!" Toji complained loudly, tossing his plastic Batman cowl onto the floor dramatically. "Your son was actively helping me make the mess! Why am I the only one who has to clean?!"
Little Megumi let out a loud, bubbly giggle at his father's booming voice.
"See? Right there, he agrees with me," Toji grinned. He leaned over, playfully snatching Megumi back into his massive arms and blowing a loud raspberry against the baby's neck, making the toddler shriek with laughter.
"Tsk. I swear, you act like a child, Toji" you laughed, turning around to walk into the kitchen.
Before you could take a single step, Toji’s large, strong hand snaked around your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, burying his nose deep into the crook of your neck. He began pressing soft, lingering, warm kisses against your skin while little Megumi babbled happily, pulling at Toji's costume ears.
"I have everything I could ever want right here," Toji whispered softly against your skin, making you smile deeply as you leaned back into his warmth.
꒰ summary ꒱ when a misunderstanding leaves your family convinced you’re bringing a plus one to your cousin’s wedding in Japan, the last person you expect to volunteer for the role is your infuriatingly observant intern, Satoru. it’s supposed to be temporary. professional. strictly off the record. but with your mother already sold on the idea of your mystery boyfriend, and Satoru proving far too good at the role, pretending starts to feel a little too dangerous. also, why is your “intern” secretly the heir to gojo corporation?!
꒰ tags/warnings ꒱ fake dating ⚹︎ undercover ceo! satoru ⚹︎ accountant! reader ⚹︎ satoru is 29, reader is 26 ⚹︎ lots of family pressure. reader has a complicated relationship with her mom ⚹︎ forced proximity ⚹︎ one bed trope ⚹︎ slow burn ⚹︎ mutual pining ⚹︎ wedding chaos ⚹︎ angst and fluff ⚹︎ some suggestive content but no explicit smut ⚹︎
꒰ authors note ꒱ hi cuties! this is a commission piece, and it is about 12k total. this first part is just shy of 6k and the second part will be out next week. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 (art by @/hanamin_0123 on x)
"Oi. Boss lady."
“No.”
One problem at a time, and the spreadsheet in front of you wins by default. Because Column F is wrong. It’s been wrong for forty fucking minutes, and if it stays wrong for forty seconds longer, you may actually die here at your desk — hunched over, half-blind, and found by Shoko on a Monday morning with your face pressed into a pivot table like a cautionary tale.
"But… you don't even know what I was gonna—"
"—the answer is no, Satoru."
Unlike the human embodiment of a headache currently lingering on the other side of your desk, the spreadsheet in front of you is at least pretending to be important.
The chair beneath him creaks, and then comes the silence you know too well. It’s the one that comes right before he decides to be a problem on purpose. Attention is gasoline and Satoru is, structurally, a fire hazard. Still, your eyes flick up, and—
"No fair…” he huffs, that ridiculous pout tugging at his lips. “You didn't even let me finish the question."
Your eyes roll back down.
“Mhm.”
"And it was such a good question.”
You turn a page. "Really?”
“Yup.” He’s draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. “It was such a thoughtful… personal… deeply relevant… extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question that—”
You scowl. "—Satoru, enough. Just do your job."
It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, he’s sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because you’d thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.
It had not.
Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner — the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices and—
…
Wait.
Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?
Fucking great.
“Oh, c’monnn,” he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. “One question. Just a tiiiiny one. It’s completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?”
You narrow your eyes.
“Satoru, you’ve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.”
“Yeah,” he says. “And you’ve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.”
Technically… four months and four days. But who’s counting?
With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall — the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby. But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.
He’s gone strangely still. The smug grin hasn’t disappeared, but it’s softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyes…
Oh.
That’s — no. You’ve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesn’t ask if you’re looking. It already knows.
Which means of course, you look away first. “Fine.” Your hand drops as you mutter. “One question. But if it’s stupid, I’m sending you back to HR.”
It’s not much of a threat. It’s his last day, after all, and for reasons you still don’t fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences — which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit he’s managed to pull in the few months of being here.
“One question?” his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. “Don’t make me regret this.” Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. “Awhh… look at you. Finally yielding.” His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. “Okay. So, here’s the thing… throughout these four months working beside you, I’ve seen a lot—"
“—that’s not a question.” You deadpan.
But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.
“Liiiike… I’ve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,” he smirks. “Even noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And I’ve noticed that little line right here—” he gestures vaguely between his own brows “—every time the budget goes sideways.”
Lips parting, you blink.
…why is he so observant?!
For someone who acts like he doesn’t give a shit, he’s strangely attentive.
You clear your throat, huffing. “Okay… what’s your point?” Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening. “Is there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?”
His grin is far too pleased. “Relax. I’m getting there.” And leaning forward, his voice drops, like he’s unraveling a conspiracy. “I just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesn’t matter who it is.” His head tilts with a smug grin. “But for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phone’s been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.”
Heat creeps up your neck. Not because he’s wrong — but because he’s right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.
Oh.
Way too observant.
Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.
His eyes drop to the planner lying open beneath the invoices. The circled date: WEDDING. And his grin sharpens. “Ohoho… I get it now,” he whistles, leaning back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “What’d your fiancé do to screw up this bad? Is the wedding off?”
Your head jerks up. “F-Fiancé?!” And he rolls his eyes with a scoff, still grinning. “Knew it. God, he must be really in the doghouse. Or maybe he’s just clingy as hell to be calling that much.”
You blink.
Okay. Nevermind. He’s wrong. That is not even remotely what’s happening. The most committed relationship you’ve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet… part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.
Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.
After all… how do you tell your mother she’s wrong?
Last month, you still answered her phone calls.
Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, there’s this gap — this stupid, paper-thin gap — where you still believe she might ask how you’re doing and actually wait for the answer.
Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.
Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.
“Oh—uh, hi mom!”
Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling — which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.
“What’s up?” the door slammed shut with your hip. “I’m actually about to—”
“—Trish sent the venue photos,” she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.
Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. “That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. “But I’m actually heading into work right now? So—”
“—It’s such a beautiful venue,” she ignored you. “Very traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin family—they never do anything small.” And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. Because…
Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.
"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really… but I'm kind of—um, excuse me…" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later and—"
"—have you booked your flight yet?"
Your mouth flattened.
Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.
“No… not yet,” you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. “It’s been a crazy ass week so I haven’t had a chance to, but—”
“—every week is a crazy week for you.” The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. “Why can’t you just book it now while we’re talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.”
A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isn’t a medical emergency.
Every week is a crazy week?
Yeah. No shit.
Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didn’t disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because that’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.
You’re the one people relied on.
Just… never the one people chose.
“Mother. I’m at work,” you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. “Look—I’m about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But I’ll book it tonight, promise.”
“…eight a.m.?” she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. “Oh! Right. It’s eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.”
…
Keep forgetting?
She keeps forgetting that she’s ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japan—handing you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?
How convenient that she forgot that.
The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. “Um. Yeah…” you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Anyways. I’ll book it tonight. After work. Okay?”
"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?”
Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.
No thanks.
“I… uh…” you cleared your throat. “I um—actually—haven’t decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, so—”
“Waitwatiwait. Haven’t decided? Does that mean… you actually found someone?!”
Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it could’ve hit floor one.
Shit.
“I-I—I didn’t say—"
“—oh, thank God. This is incredible!!” she squealed. “We’ve been so worried. I mean—Trish is younger than you and she figured it out,” her tongue clicked. “People have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her and—”
“—Mom, I—"
“—It’s about time,” The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. “You can’t keep putting love on hold forever, because men aren’t going to wait around forever. You’re already twenty-six—not getting any younger, dear.”
Love?!
Who has time for that?
And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!
“What’s his name?” she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. “What does he do? Is he from there, or—oh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always said—”
And she was off.
Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.
“—actually, never mind,” she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. “You have work. I’ll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honey—”
Click!
And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your mother’s voice had been.
‘We’ve been so worried.’
…
If they were so worried… why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly you’re worth getting excited about?
Funny how that works.
Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yuji’s head snapped up behind the reception desk.
“Morning, boss,” he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. “Kento’s asking if you’re still good for the budget review at eight… or if I should just tell him to panic.”
Your smile softened, burying the sting. “Yes… I’ll be right there.” And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role you’d always played.
The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two master’s degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.
But…
None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?
“Oi,” Satoru frowns. “You’re makin’ that face again.”
“Huh?”
Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself — like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know was closed.
“Oh.” You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. “…what face?”
“The one you make when something’s wrong,” he says quietly, gaze unmoving. “When you’re upset and trying to act like you’re not.”
For a second — one terrible, unguarded second — you don’t have a single thing to hide behind. It’s just him, looking at you like your well-being is something he’s been keeping track of in a column you didn’t even know existed.
But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So… now you read faces?"
“Mm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.”
And that grin — god, that fucking grin — hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You don’t acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.
"…that’s highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Let’s maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"
“Sorry, sorry.” He leans back, hands up like he’s the picture of innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna start shit with your dear future husband.” His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. “Though, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.”
Why does he sound… bitter?
No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesn’t care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.
You scoff. "You’re making some wildly stupid assumptions right now…"
He perks up at that. "Oh?" With his grin hooking higher, almost hopeful. "Wait. So, there’s no fiancé, then?"
Your lips purse.
What does he care? He’s not your mother.
“I wish you’d be this interested in your actual job,” you sigh, arms crossing. “Those invoices have been sitting there all week.”
“Uh-huh.” He tips his head. “And yet somehow, I noticed you still didn’t answer me.”
You frown.
What the fuck are you supposed to say!?
Oh. Um. Actually, Satoru, there is no fiancé. That’s the problem, actually! My mother invented him the other morning and I haven't worked up the nerve to call her back.
Yeah. No. You'd rather die at this desk.
“Maybe because it’s none of your business.”
“But I—”
“Drop it.”
He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.
“Well, damn,” he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. “No wonder you’re single if this is how you shut people down…”
The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late — like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.
God.
Of all the places to hit.
“Oho… wow. Okay. This?” you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. “Yeah. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let you ask, Satoru.” You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.
He straightens, watching you scramble. “Whoa. Wait. I—"
“—because you don’t know when to stop!” The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. “You just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope you’re happy.”
Before you can turn away, he’s on his feet. “Wait—” And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.
His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.
Though your eyes stay down. “Satoru… let go.”
“I didn’t…” he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist — before climbing back to your face, slower this time. “I’m… sorry. I just—” His mouth tightens. “I see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like it’s already ruined your day before you even touch it. And…” His brows pinch. “Fuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!”
Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be — all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like he’s stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like… if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.
“Satoru…” your breath hitches. “I-I—"
“Oh, finally.”
Shoko’s voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand — looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.
Her gaze flicks down to where he’s holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.
"Sooo… not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will and—"
You're already jerking your hand back. "Yup—coming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.
Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not — not — doing that today.
Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left… unfinished.
You’re gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.
It doesn’t.
And it’s not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant pout—just before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.
Un-fucking-believable.
He’d almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, you’d finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.
…
He could fire Kento.
Should he fire Kento?
As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. There’s no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, he’ll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.
'Grow up, Satoru.'
'Apply yourself, Satoru.'
'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'
Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.
Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!
He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, he’s pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. You’ve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and… the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.
The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. It’s mindless shit. Still, he’s used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesn’t think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.
It’s probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.
“Yo,” another stamp echoes. “Satoru speaking.”
There’s a sharp inhale. “…who?”
His brow lifts. “Uh… Satoru?” Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. “What do y’need?”
The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, “Satoru…” Sighing in awe. “What a lovely name. Is that Japanese?”
"Uh… yeah?” he snorts, flipping to the next page. “I mean. Last I checked.”
“Mm… I thought so!” She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. “So… Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?”
…
Why the hell does this woman sound so invested? And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?
Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.
“Because it rang?” He says it like it’s obvious. “And uh—sorry, but. Maybe because I’ve been with her for months, so… why the hell wouldn’t I?”
"Months?!” A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. “You've—you've been with her for months?!"
"Mmm… four months and four days, technically."
He’s been her intern for that long.
That’s the question, right?
"—technically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodness—oh, this is perfect. Four months and four days—that is so specific.”
He blinks. But she doesn’t give him time to process.
“Look at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry she’d never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her father—I said, there is a man, I can feel it.”
Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.
"…sorry. Who is thi—"
“—everyone is so excited to meet you at Trish’s wedding. I already reserved your seat and—"
Her voice keeps going… and going… and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:
📞 Mom
Oh.
Oh, shit.
This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass and—
"Uh…” he backpedals. “Wait. I—"
"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him and—”
"Stop. I-I really think—"
“—Satoru, what are you doing?’
His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.
Oh, fuck.
“Who is on the other end of that phone,” you hiss.
He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like it’s toxic — and you’re snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like he’s trying to physically dissociate from the situation he’s just created while you press the phone to your ear.
“And I mean…” she rambles. “I certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. But—"
"Mom."
"Oh! Honey!” She gasps. “Oh, my goodness, hi—I was just having the loveliest chat with—"
"I'm at work. Gotta go."
"—okay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, he—"
Click!
The phone sits in your hand like evidence.
And Satoru — to his credit — has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like he’s rehearsing an apology in a language he hasn’t learned yet.
You stare at him.
He stares at you.
And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.
“Sooo… funny story…”
“—what did you do?!”
Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks — hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.
Great. Fucking great.
You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.
But cry?
Never.
And this had his fingerprints all over it.
"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "I—fuck. Okay. Please don't—I can fix this. I can—"
"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't exist—and she is, at this very moment, probably already—"
Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.
God. How fucking humiliating.
"Hey, hey—it's okay,” his voice softened. “We'll just… call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."
“Easy?” you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. “Y-You don’t understand my mother, Satoru,” you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. “If she thinks something is true, then it’s true. That’s it. That’s—there’s no correcting her, there’s no walking it back, she’s already told my aunt Sara by now and Sara’s told Trish and—oh, fuck—”
Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.
God. Stop it.
Stop it stop it stop it.
Think.
Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.
But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped — replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.
…what look will she give you when you show up alone?
"I can’t," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week and—do what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm still—"
Single.
The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didn’t realize you’d gone silent until the silence itself started ringing — your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasn’t actively coming apart at the seams.
And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.
"Um…” he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. “Soooo... the wedding's in Japan?"
You blinked. “What?” And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. “The wedding…” he repeated, voice careful. “It’s in Japan?”
"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"
He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head — something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.
"Huh… okay."
Okay what?
You watched his expression change in real time — from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."
No biggie?
Your mouth dropped.
That wasn’t even an option, was it?
…is he crazy?
“You’re kidding,” your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. “Sweetheart, c’mon,” and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."
You stared at him. Genuinely stared.
Oh. He wasn’t kidding.
Yup. He’s crazy.
"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."
“Yeah. For like… another six hours?"
He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.
"…that is not the point."
“Mm… feels a little like the point."
He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um… look…" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "It’s really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so… this just moves my timeline back a little."
He was shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.
…
His family’s in Japan too?
You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours — jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.
But…
"Just… let me come with you. I’ll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For… whatever you need,” he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So… let me fix it."
Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.
"Okay… but you can't fix my mother."
"No…” he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. “But… I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"
Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again — catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.
“Mhn. So, do I get the job, boss lady? Because that look you’re giving me…” a slow smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Very encouraging for my boyfriend résumé, by the way. Might get addicted to it and wanna make it a full-time gig.”
“Shut up,” you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.“That was not a look. I was just—” You grimace. “…never mind.”
He’s chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?
Shit…
That felt like the kind of complication that didn’t stay neatly contained. And you knew better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha 🙂↕️ bc this is like... what—my third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged 💖
Synopsis. When he’s gonna hit it, he’s gonna hit it till your mind breaks.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, dúmbifícation, running from it, cervíx kíssing, matíng presses, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, bréeding, GOJO’S POWERS, mentions of kíds, p talking, headIocks, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, cúmplay, MEAN Geto, breaking the béd, p spánking, marathons, proposals, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. PHEW hoping you have the loveliest week <3
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 3 min. 12 secs
“Tch- where the hell do ya think you’re runnin’ off to, doll?”
Toji’s trapping both your droopy ankles with one dextrous set of his thick fingers, dragging you about halfway down the king-sized mattress in an instant. He’s oh-so-greedily pinning them over the curvaceous dip of his deltoids with a mean, sweat-slicked palm, “Don’t tell me yer hah- tapping out after only three minutes?”
Punctuating his filthy push and pull with a few syrupy thwack! thwack! thwacks! of his strawberry-pink tip down your sappy slit. He’s leaving generous wiry ribbons of pre that smudge and smear a pretty lipgloss as you clench.
“N-nooo m’not–” You’re shaking your dizzy head as urgently as you could, huffing at the utter teasing in Toji’s sleazy, dimpled smirk. “I’m just…”
But what could you even say at this point?
“Oh?” Toji’s letting his dark brows scrunch at your hypnotized silence, the way your gaze was practically plastered with little heart-eyes and- Oh. Oh. He can’t help but loosen a breathy snicker as the realization hits. “Already?”
Yes, already.
Because Toji Fushiguro never held back - he never ever hid that his exact goal in these lecherous sheets was to fuck you until you saw stars.
Always ruthless whenever he’s kissing your spongy cervix with such copious French kisses of his fat, rotund head. Always swollen so thick, with probing little veins sprinting against every one of your tender spots.
The stretch so maddening that it left a translucent trail of dribble spilling from the corners of your mouth. Puddling out with every pressurized pound to swirl wet splotches all over that magical spot until you were sure it was bruised and battered.
Until you were sure you couldn’t even formulate the thought process let alone the words to vocalize that he’d utterly fucked you stupid in all but three minutes.
“Heh- shiiiit-” You’re blinking away the glazed film of lust that’d taken over your eyes, just in time to catch the way that Toji peeks his willowy eyes down below. Letting out the sexiest low whistle at the mess he’s making, “Think s’ a new record. Now, where’d my ngh- mouthy girl go, huh?”
Roughened circles of his digits dig into your legs, tightening and tightening when - with a ragged grunt - Toji bends. He hunches his bulky body until you’re compressed in half, washboard abs melting into your front, your heels imprinting into his back - into the dirtiest mating press. Gruffing, “Have ya seen her?”
And you swear you catch the way that Toji’s fattened tip only stretched tautly wider, swabbing around your sloppy hole in a teasing circle. He’s buttering you up with numerous lecherous slurps until you were dripping.
But he was so slow - so taunting. Sharp malachite eyes dazzling with sheer amusement when you’re raking frustrated red, red lines down his muscular back. Mumbling tearily, I-If you’re not gonna hngh- fuck me properly already then–”
“Mhm- ya really are fucked dumb already.”
Hah, as if he already needed to confirm.
Because of course he was waiting for just this exact moment.
Flooding your honeyed lips with the prettiest broken whines when he’s plugging you mind-splittingly full. Rasping out a low fuck! at the gummy resistance, Toji’s vice-like restraint on your legs grow even sounder as he all but hauls you down every snug inch of his cock.
So solidly and completely spearheading his upright curve into your molten walls, it’s like you were scorching all around him. Sucking him up for more more more-
“Heh, do ya even r-realize how much you’re ngh- milkin’ me?” He’s cooing, pumping you with grinding ram after ram that has your clit massaging against Toji’s tufted black happy trail. Scratching. Filthily.
“T-Toji—” And it’s the only thing you can say - the only thing replaying in your mind again and again and- Your maw slacks so scandalously open when his gluttonous fat head sugarcoats your g-spot in a melty mess of precum. Sloshing and sheathing your rummaged insides in a sticky second layer. “There- more- more please- m-more-”
You didn’t even have to ask.
Because Toji’s second-ever weakness was having you completely cockdrunk and stupid on his swollen length - his first being, well, you in all your entirety - and his third? Making you even stupider.
Breath hitching, he’s angling his toned hips just right to brush up recoiling pecks on your precious spots exactly the way you like it. Making the splintering bedframe creak and whine almost as much as you.
Eyes lounging lazily to the back of your head, your tongue lolls out with every dredge of creamy pre making it’s home near your g-spot. “Ngh- yeah- m-m…” Couldn’t even speak.
With a hoarse belt of chuckles, Toji’s free hand pokes your fuzzily cotton-filled head. “Oiiii- d’ya even hngh- have anythin’ else in yer cockdrunk mind? Ya always get so ah- greedy when yer like this, hm?” Those very same fingerpads hovering over your buttony clit, he’s giving you a sudden pinch. “Especially…her.”
Oh, that did it - just as Toji knew it would.
Because you’re giving such a gluey squeeze of your adhesive-like walls around Toji’s throbbing shaft - making his chest stutter with a condensed heave, mouth lathering in a fresh batch of saliva that coats his sinful scar, and his brain short-circuiting just enough to feel the way you cum.
And not just any old orgasm - Toji’s spitting out a sharp few slews of profanity when he feels his hefty base soak in shiny, vicious waves of your slick. Blinking his dazed eyes down at his glistening abs - his pecs - to titter at how drenched he was.
How you’d squirted until his weepy cock was dripping with every ounce of sopping wet juices. That blankly loving filter in your stare that made him wonder if you even realized how hard you’d squirted - or whether you realized that you did at all.
You looked so tempting that he really, really can’t help but drag a thick thumb around your saturated pussy lips, drawing little hearts round and round where you were still bulging with all his bloated inches.
“Awwww– already?” Toji’s hips were still so mean, panted out through each scouring jackhammer of his cock. He’s drenching little puddles on his digit, slipping it into his mouth with a greedy pop! And- shit, maybe he’s the one fucked stupid now. “How sweet. S-sooo generous this pretty pussy is.”
Because in a split-second he’s coiled two big, beefy arms around your waist. Biceps digging into your mounds of flesh, silky sheets hot against his back as he manhandles you to pliantly flip over however he wanted.
Ruddied cock still buried deep into your goopy depths. So easy. So filthy. “Don’t think we’re gonna be hah- done for a long, long time, doll.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7 min. 4 secs
“My love.” Nanami’s engulfing hand oh-so-sweetly cradles one side of your pretty face as you ride him senseless. Running his fat thumb down the tear-slicked rim of your lips. He’s warm, soft - the complete opposite of that chilling wedding band of his against your scorching flesh. “My love- a-are you alright?”
“Mhm— M’doin’ juuuust fine.” you’re barely able to mumble out, head lolling behind you as he thwacks his plump tip once more against your gummy cervix. Twice more. Thrice. “Ngh- easy, baby, the k-kids are sleeping.”
But your dear husband can sense that something is off. Something is…different.
Maybe in the way that you’re looking up at him with bigger and bigger heart eyes after every rolling jackhammer, maybe in the way you’re practically plastered against his hulking body. Soft tits glissading up and down up and down the sweat-slicked plane of his wide, cushiony pecs. So drunken. So pliant. And he can’t help but plant a soppy smack! against the hooded of your puffy clit with one free hand.
“Oh!” Your back curls into such a slutty arch - such a heavenly sight that makes him wish he had a photographic memory - squirmy hips bucking down harder and- “H-harder- Kentooo- wan’ some more–”
Oh?
And Nanami’s feeling his thickened head splurge your gooey insides with creamy wads upon wads of glossy pre at the mere thought - just the simple idea of you fucking yourself dumb while riding him.
He could probably cum just from watching you like this.
Breath hitching choppily, he’s grabbing your throat - dragging you like some ragdoll until you were only mere condensed inches away from him. You couldn’t be…could you?
“Ken—” Your spit-slicked bottom lip juts out, weighty shuffling forward to press a pretty peck against that shallow dimple on the corner of his lip. Oh, you’d meant for it to land on his lips…but. “Awww, I missed.”
Oh.
But of course he can’t leave his dear wife hanging - especially not when you’re all fucking yourself stupid on him like this.
He’s gifting you with an utterly dizzying kiss - making your tummy so melty with butterflies even after all these years. And you can’t help but keen-
“D-darlin’-” Nanami almost feels like he’s the utterly speechless one now, curling a singular hand around your waist to help your stumbling hips use his cock steadier. Deepening the angle to pound battered hit after hit against your tenderized favorite spots. Those manicured nails of his leave pretty crescent marks all over your fleshy skin when his uprightly curved cock thwacks! upwards. Feral. “Do you- ngh- know how b-beautiful you look right now?”
“Huh?” It’s so adorable how you’re stealing a few sloppy gyrations first before even registering what he’s asking. Cockdrunk and wordless that he’s coaxing out your answer with a sodden thumb smearing your waterfalling drool. “N-no?”
And without a second’s warning - without even a single speck of hesitation - the hand around your tender throat turns vice-like. Shackling. Cutting off both your airway and your heavenly view of a sexily prespired, half-lidded Nanami - turning that bleary gaze of yours towards the specially-installed mirror by your bed.
Head craning to the side to catch how fucking ruined you looked right now, hips moving out of control. Cunt just bawling with a syrupy slick mess pooling underneath you two with every shuddering spearhead of his cock.
“See? Just see h-how ngh- pretty my wife is.” Nanami’s rasping out, utterly wrecking your insides despite his sweet, sweet words. Branding circular divots of his head right into the very resiny bottom of your cervix. His lightning bolted veins just thump cheekily against your g-spot. “Always so pretty- could cum j-jus’ from seeing your ah- gorgeous face ‘nyways b-but…” Fuck- if you were in any better state of mind you’d have caught the way his stoic ears burn red. “...especially when you’re dumb like this.”
“Kento-” You’re crying out, mussing a hand through his dampened strands of blond. Tugging. Pulling to make him hiss. “C-cum inside me. Please. Wan’ it all i-inside- want you to make me pregn-”
“A-another?”
“Another.”
Fuck.
You were making him lose it.
So rudely swatting your hands away to pin them behind your back with only one of his - metallic wristwatch cold against your heated skin. He’s curling your back into a simpering inflection before hammering you with the almost-inhuman thick curvature of his cock, splotching out a wet few wisps of creamy white-
“Not yet- not yet-” Nanami’s muttering, and in your stupidly fucked state you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. “Can’t- can’t ngh- yet-”
Rapturing it like a mantra over and over while blotting your g-spot with sloppy, dirty remnants of precum. Sloshing and glazing his bulky base and all the way down to his tight, thwacking balls. Making such a mess that only leaves you whining incoherently, jolting as if spiked by a sudden million volts of bliss when Nanami’s scooping up the sugary gloss and smearing it back into your gaping entrance.
Until you’re curling your toes taut enough that you can barely move, fingers digging into the pale skin of his back, your vision tinging with a sudden flurry of stars as you cum.
“Tha’s it- that’s right–” he’s breathing out, labored and throaty. So fucking grateful for those sound-proofed walls he installed when you had your first. Voice dipping into almost whiny territory as your husband’s babbling everything that your dumbfounded maw can’t, “Ride me- f-fuck- ride me until ya cum. Ruin me until I can…”
And with a sopping pivot of his fat shaft to hit right against the edges of your womb, he’s flooding your melty cunt with copious ribbons upon ribbons of thick seed. Milky. Heavy. Icing your weepy insides in his favorite white.
“M’gonna take c-care of it- take care of ya-” Nanami’s whispering in a hot pant against your ear, breath so strained and heated that it’s sending shivers down your spine. “Got a place hah- alllll safe n’ sound right- here-”
Nanami can only grin at that inflationary little nudge of where he’s feeling his spattering cum seep press gluey little kisses into your glutinous walls. Because yes, you were gorgeous when you’re fucked dumb like this…but you were even more gorgeous when you’re all round and glowing for him. Patting your pretty tummy, just so impatient for his newborn daughter - yes, daughter - already.
He’s batting his loving eyes down at your fatigued figure with so much adoration that it’s practically palpable. Sensitive tip twitching a perking jerk dangerously…Nanami licks his lips. When you look like this, he wants m-
“Kento—”
Your needy whine snaps him out of his pussydrunken hypnosis, smacking a few innocent smooches against the side of your forehead. “Yes, my love?”
“More.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - 4 min. 27 secs
Shit- shit.
You were so fucking cute - so dangerously ruined on Geto’s cock after only a few sloppy slathers of his thickened shaft down your spongy cervix that it was almost dangerous. That the ever-teasing Geto Suguru is finding his smirking mouth fill up with a few sing-songy coos.
“Awwww, always so ngh- mouthy. What happened- you doin’ alright, gorgeous?” he’s breathing out in a hot baritone up against your ear, opaline white canines sinking into your lobe eagerly. “Though- guess she’s hah- talkin’ in yer place now, hm?”
She being your goopy cunt, the way it was resonating out the most sinfully saturated squelches! with every sheathing lamination of Geto’s cock inside your gummy walls. Practically talking - begging for more with every probing jackhammer of his angry, ample tip.
And with your teary gaze tiredly panned over your shoulder, you can make out the way that Geto was nodding. Dewy eyes scrunched shut like he was in deep thought, pretty lips moving to speak absolute filth. “Mhm– you’re heh- right. That would feel b-better, huh?”
Conversing - but not to you.
And within one frowzy bat of your lashes, Geto drags up one of his thick, muscular legs. Years upon years of flexibility in battle being taken advantage of when he’s planting a foot down on your dizzy head and pinning you there.
“Ngh! Sugu—” you can only whine, struggling and soaking yourself with the deepening change in angle.
He’s only tutting at your sappy cunt, “I know- such a nasty girl, huh? So fuckin’- loud- too.”
Loud. So loud - and you weren’t even trying to be. Streamy rivulets of your glossed slick slurp out with every thudding thwack! of Geto’s sweltering hot tip drilling its way inside your elastic depths. He was so burning hot - feverish.
Shoulders slumping, head bowing at just how lecherously you were sucking up every. Single. Blow he gave. And he can already feel the languid trickle of drool spattering at at the corners of his lips, “So cute- sooo cute- but the- ngh- the whole fuckin’ association’s gonna hear ya, y’know~”
Before you know it you’re being engulfed with one of Geto’s massive palms - cold, slender, reaching over to muffle the utterly scandalous noises spilling uncontrollably from your sagging mouth.
“Not you, though-” he’s tittering, eyes locked down on the way all those weighty inches of his were disappearing and dabbing its way into your needy cunt. “You—” Leaving a particularly wet drag down your mushy insides, “Can ngh- talk allll you like- hah, because you didn’t get fucked stupid after only f-four minutes.”
“Ugh! So mean S-Sugu—” you’re sobbing out when his puffy head sponges against your poor g-spot for the nth time this night. Throbbing veins massaging your walls until you were sure your own heartbeat was syncing up with that staggering cadence. Nails raking down his strong forearm, “M-more–”
“What was that—?” He’s leering his head as close as possible, making your mouth lacquer with a greedy volume of saliva at the way his shoulders flex. Overflowing down his palm. “Heh- making such a m-mess, filthy girl. If ya want something, say it l-louder.”
Oh, by now you’re not just dumbstruck by his relentless pace - but also by how pretty Geto looks. With his long, inky hair freefalling in a soft curtain that tickles your curvaceous spine, half-lidded eyes unfocused and mean, cheeks flushed an innocent pink that matches his weepy tip.
And it’s just about all your melty mind can manage to hiccup out, “More.”
“Awww how cute- s’that all you can s-say?” He’s chuckling in a delirious little tone from above you, free hand nuzzling against your pulsing clit softly. Teasingly. Fully enjoying how you’re struggling against his hold to let out just a few more pretty noises. “Tell me.”
You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard that Geto snickers.
But, well, who ever said that Geto Suguru was a merciless man?
“Fine- I’ll let ya have yer little fun.” He’s rasping out with a hoarse sort of shudder at the very thought that makes him whimper. But- shit, was he glad that you’re too stupidly ruined on his achy cock to notice. Too drunkenly ecstatic when he’s suddenly setting free your wobbly mouth, “If you can first hah- speak a proper s-sentence while takin’ my fuckin’ cock- how about it?”
“I-I- ngh!”
But, shit, Geto wasn’t making it easy for you - the weight of his herculean body being pressurized into his foot even harder. He’s driving his hips into you so rocky that you’re sure you spot a few purplish bruises on his sultry hip bones.
“Heheh-” Ah, he’s having so much fun leaving you stupidly speechless like this. You’re only whining when he toys a thick thumb around your clit, before pressing down on that buttony hood. Hard. “Biiiig stretch makin’ you stupid, gorgeous?”
It was. Oh, it really, really was - and right now you’re so far gone that the only thing you can do is take it.
And Geto’s so perfectly practised in ruining you this way, too. Planting dense drivels of his fleshy tip against your sweetened spots, dragging the tubby divot in wet little smears in expert time with every squeeze of your clit.
“Yes-” you’re mewling out a belated response to his question. “Yes yes yes-”
Only to be cut off with Geto’s palms smearing back onto your dozy mouth, blocking out the slews of addicted whines that just won’t stop.
And, honestly, that heartbrokenly teary look in your eyes is so adorable that Geto’s throat clogs up with his own little whine.
God, you were breathtakingly contagious.
Voice strained - halfway through breaking - dipping a few octaves higher than usual when he’s hushing out, “Shh shhh- no needa force that ah- pretty lil’ head to overwork-” Leveraging the hold around your mouth to drag you backwards into his cadence. Filthier. More. “-you jus’ focus on t-taking my cock like a ngh- good girl and I-” Oh, he’s almost collapsing onto you - already in for a long, long night waking up the association. “-will focus on fillin’ this talkative cunt up.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - 6 min. 18 secs
“Ch-Choso–”
And, to Choso, it was like the pearly gates of heaven had already opened their way up - and sat right front and center waiting on the other side for him was you.
With your trembly legs splayed out on either side of his vicious hips, hands sticking oh-so-desperately to the leather seat of his sleek black Hellcat. You’re lathering his swollen cock with thick, lustrous coatings of his cum from just before - when he’d crashed into his orgasm simply from putting it in. Drowning out your thoughts with the most saccharine sweet slurps from down below-
“Cho, baby–” Tapping his lovingly blushed cheeks a few times to knock your dear best friend back to at least an ounce of his senses. You brush away a few chestnut strands sticking to his prespired forehead, “D-dunno how m’gonna face your f-family after- ngh- this!”
And it takes him a few sloppy seconds - it takes him everything to even think of a jumble of words that might count as a reply.
Clammy hands latching on greedily to your vigorous hips, Choso has to force your cadence to slow down until he can string together a few syllables with his slack mouth. “Wh-why? I already hngh- parked a few blocks away from dad’s, s-so they won’t catch-”
“I know but—” your whining comes out so treacly condensed in the heady air of his car. Making him mindlessly ram another syrupy snog into your cervix. “But- you’re just fucking me so- so stupid.”
Oh.
That’s enough for Choso’s head to fall attractively backwards until his full weighty body was being supported solely by the cushiony seat. Pretty twinkling tears of sensitivity clinging onto his batting lashes, he’s whimpering, “M-me? I’m fuckin’ you hngh- stupid, baby?”
“Mhm—”
Nodding your head, your thighs just burn after every shuddering dab of Choso’s thickened length probing inside your gooey insides. Mushing up a spot modeled after him, an angry circumference of his fat tip indented into your poor g-spot. You’re feeling rivulets of his veins reaching each and every sensitive spot you never could.
He was drilling into you so filthily. So dirtily that your head was spinning with each sloshing wad of his seed swirling your insides.
And Choso - fuck, Choso looked like he was on the very urge of sobbing. Or, perhaps he was, you were much too cross-eyed at this point after every ram to confirm.
“I’m fuckin’ you s-stupid- Me.” he’s breathing out with such an air of worship. Blindly clasping one of your hands smeared against the foggy window to guide up to his lips and kiss. “S-say it again, my pretty baby. Heh…”
And right now, you don’t think you would’ve wanted to even if you could.
Jostling your hips with fresh pound after pound that leaves your soppy mounds of flesh stinging at the impact, every doughy thwack! of Choso’s plump, cum-filled balls against your ass has you gasping. “F-feel so- hngh- dumbstruck right now, Cho–”
“Because of m-my cock?” He’s giggling - giggling, a sleazy grin splitting that handsome face of his. Choso’s steering your needy hips to bounce down his copious inches faster. And faster. “Heh- is takin’ my cock like a hah- good girl m-makin’ you feel good?”
Fuck- and you can only nod.
“After o-only a few minutes?”
Punching your fists against his broad chest, but to Choso it only feels like a few kittenish bumps. “Cho! M’gonna g-get off if you t-”
“No! No no no no—” His knees thwack! against the car interior when he’s manspreading even wider. Legs jerking tightly up and down to collide your tender insides with plumpish mushroomy cockhead, “Stay- stay. Hngh! Hafta fuck you s-soooo much stupider.”
Fully as stupidly speechless as Choso was right about now, you didn’t know who was faring worse.
His muscular thighs slipping and sliding against yours with a glazed coating of cum and your honeyed slick. A low ah! ah! ah! slipping out every few seconds from those rosy pink lips of his with every drooling blow into your slobbery pussy.
“R-ride me until ya can’t even think, baby-” He’s pleading - begging. Viscous ropes of spit spattering out between his slack maw, he was drooling. Lips trembling, “Ride me- hngh- ride me a-and…choke me.”
Oh, the very second those pretty fingers of yours take Choso’s favorite position around his neck, his proudly globular head racks up a few gauzy wisps of pre. Dangerously creamy. Icing down your walls and making his overstimulated self keen.
Unable to even your sentence, your face hides in the very crook of his neck. Nuzzling against his sweat-simmered skin with how positively heavy your entire body felt. “G-god- feels s-so…”
“Nuh uh.” Choso lets his words drag out into a cute whine, chest hitching purely parched when your digits block off his airway even more snugly. “N-need to see your ngh- pretty face, baby- please- I need you to- need-” Sheer yearning flashes in his eyes when you’re tilting your head towards his fucked-out features once more, “-need you to kiss me.”
You’re giggling out, words airy. “S-so bossy, Cho–”
“Jus’ can’t get ‘nough of you.” He’s mumbling - hot and and heavy against your rawly kissed lips.
And it was a wonder that Choso could manage to strangle it out from his heaving chest, that he could even manage to breathe. Because with one last shuddering smooch of his rotund crown into your g-spot, you’re both tumbling headfirst into your high - Choso’s second orgasm of tonight.
And with every toe-curling flash of white, he’s smearing such streamlined splatters of seed into your melty insides. Hot. Sploshing down your walls and milking velvety rings upon rings around Choso’s hefty base - so viscous that you could almost taste it.
He’s making such a mess, too, giggling at how utterly speechless you were. Shrilling out nothing but mewling calls of his name.
Shit, music to his ears that Choso finds himself hypnotized to. Barely even registering when he’s patting the nudge of his puffy tip against your womb, pushing - just slightly - enough for tumbling dredges of cum to spill down your seeping slit and luster him until he was drenched.
“G-gonna hafta clean the c-car before we get back and ah- announce…” He’s looking up at you with stars in his eyes, so adoring that you could almost cum again from just this. “-our engagement.”
Your words choke up into a rolling ball of lead - an engagement? To your best friend? All the way before dating? And, yet, maybe it’s because your mind is still left in completely stupid shambles from before that you find your lips curling-
THUD! THUD! THUD!
A knock, and Sukuna’s voice through the black-tinted windows.
“OI! Jin is searching for you brats all over the place- SO YOU BETTER BE IN HERE-”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 2 min. 8 secs
“Fuck- fuuuuck would ya look at that cute lil’ bulge.” Sukuna’s chest heaves with rumbling little chuckles that echo against your back, two out of his four beefy arms pinning you so helplessly into his cushiony chest. “Well…heh, not little.”
The notorious king of curses was standing so tall - towering - and his dually rock-hard cocks were just the same. Swabbing open your slickly flooded insides in such a lecherous full nelson, he’s splitting open your glutinous walls with branding, thorough thrusts.
Knocking up against each and every bullseye of magical spots that he’d already memorized. You’re being shovelled with a girthy indent of his upper tip against your mushy cervix, managing out a broken K-Kuna—
“Tch, I know I know-” he’s rolling his eyes, leveraging the sinful uses of gravity below to watch you slip and slide your snug channel languidly down his left-curved shafts. “Ya want more- ‘sn’t that right, spoiled brat?”
But the only thing that thunders in Sukuna’s ears are the melodies of your sweetly singing cunt, slushy squelches of your puffed-up pussy lips slurping up every one of his numerous inches.
And, now, don’t get Sukuna wrong - it’s one of his favorite songs, one of his few weaknesses - but where was your honeyed voice?
“Oi- silly girl- forgot how ta ngh- speak?” You’re hearing from above you, all monstrous seven feet of Sukuna’s figure hunching over just enough for him to snarl hotly against your ear. “How else is the ngh- entire palace gonna know that m’makin’ my wife feel good?”
Punishing your plump clit with a lingering swat! of his thick fingertips, “Not answerin’ your king, huh? Guess I’ll jus’ hafta-”
“Ngh- m-more-”
Oh? That tone sounded familiar.
And now usually Sukuna would growl at you for speaking out of turn, usually he’ll plant a few sodden thwacks against your battered cervix to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with. But right now, he’s only scoffing, “The hell was that? Speak up.”
“More, Kuna—” Fuck, the utterly primal neediness in your voice has even Sukuna stuttering his vicious hips - much to your disappointment. And you’re wrangling in his vice-like grasp to gulp down a few more clingy gyrations of his cocks inside your gluey depths. “More- I n-need more- harder.”
“More?” he’s whispering. Seething. Shaking with a humorless little grin that oh couldn’t have been directed by anyone but you. “More. Heh fuckin’ slut. M-my little human wants more- oh, new record.”
Ah, new record indeed.
It’s been only what? A minute? Two? And here was his beautiful queen, all fucked dumb on his cocks again. So ruined that you could barely even speak, a smooth staccato of only wanting more replaying in your mind when your husband plunges in a capsizing few jackhammers.
You barely even register it when one of his hands tighten on your scalp, overgrown fingernails craning your head uncomfortably up, up, up for him to splatter your tongue dripping wet with a sleazy wad of his saliva. “Yer fuckin’ gone arentcha?”
And he might just be, too, with how pliantly you’re letting that thickened mass slide all the way down your tastebuds. Huffing, “F-fuck- more.”
“Greedy lil’ thing.” He’s puckering up your sodden folds with a slow circles of his fingers, before clashing another good smack! Dragging out velvety ribbons of your honeyed slick that cling to his digits, “Such a filthy pussy, even after- hah- after I can see my bulge in that ah- puny human cunt o’ yours, woman. Ya still want more?”
“B-bulge?” Your head lolls over to rest against one of the curvaceous cushions of Sukuna’s muscular deltoids, glazed eyes drifting all the way down-
Oh.
Fuck- the sight as complete heaven.
Your lips were parting way for Sukuna like butter, slobbering down your sweet sap of juices to him like you were glossing every inch of him. Bludgeoning in his rotund mushroom tip until your ass was bruising against the unruly trail of drenched pink that led to his swollen hilts. And the bulge- shit.
The bulge was rummaging itself to all the way up about halfway down your tummy - edging at your fucking lungs it felt like - was such a perfectly cylindrical outline of Sukuna’s matching cocks. Smearing open your gluttonous walls so widely agape, he’s crashing his smooching tips against your g-spot, your cervix. Both at the same time. Everywhere and anywhere that you could see now.
“Oh-oh-” you’re whining out, lower lip trembling every more frenzied with every glissading dab against those spots. The way that Sukuna had your clingy walls milking him so tight. “S-s’so big, Kuna–”
“Oh? So ya can speak other words.” He’s chuckling, fat fingers pressing a curving little pattern down on your sensitive nub. Pinching. Tugging. So harshly that you can’t help but flail in his hold mid-air. “Easy, easy there, brat. Jus’ thought ya f-forgot how to, heh.”
Oh, he was such a tease.
Such feral darkness oozing into his words when a third of his hands guide your own to caress that lecherous bulge. “Here- don’ be shy- wanna touch it, ngh- dontcha?” And of course, you do. Rubbing over the creamed divots of his outlined tips. In awe. “-yeah like- fuuuck like that- heh…such a cutie when you’re all f-fucked dumb.”
Shit- so utterly adorable that he can’t help but leave another sopping wet smack! on your clit. Another. And another. And another and another until the heat curls up scorchingly in your stomach, and Sukuna’s taking your star-struck moment to snicker, “Mhm– m’feelin’ a little bad for this ngh- p-poor cunt though. Maybe I should take out one cock…”
“No!” You’re crying out, hips trying so ravenously to scoop up every sloshing glob of pre that butters up your insides. And you’re sucking in every inch that you get, every merciless ram. All while boring your eyes into Sukuna’s tearfully, “N-nooo I wan’ it- wan’ them both s-so badly.”
Fuck, you were dangerous.
And the most powerful can’t do a single thing. Because, really, who was he against you?
Can’t do anything but lacquer your drooly tastebuds with another syrupy ball of spit - enough to make you cum.
Sparks of your high sprinting throughout your body, sheening an almost-sparkling wet slobber around Sukuna’s bucking cocks - all the way down to his flexing thighs. It’s thwacking and skidding your jiggling ass against his mounds of muscles even harder, riding out your orgasm on the way that Sukuna’s gifting sopping smacks! on that poor hooded peak of your clit.
Blinking back overstimulated tears, “Kuna–”
“Ah ah- ignorin’ the king when he’s t-talking to ya, cutting me off, cumming with no warning…” he spits hotly against your ear. “I should make ya pay for treason, woman.”
“H-how?” Still so cockdrunken. Still uselessly struggling against his twitchy gyrations, zig-zagging little wet paintings down your inner walls.
Sukuna pretends to think, a sleazy grin plastered permanently on his face. “Hmmm, how about…ya ah- squirt f’me.” All the while boring his devilishly red eyes into your heart-eyed ones. How cute. “If that pretty lil’ empty head remembers how that is, h-heh.”
♡ INO TAKUMA - 11 min. 6 secs
“C-can I cum inside? Again? P-please?” Ino’s hissing - more to himself than anything. Words bubbling out after each and every lazy swat! of his fat, ruddied tip down the very bottom of your pappy wet cervix. He wants more. He need more. “Shhh sh sh- jus’ a lil’ more- please. Just some- ah-”
Shit- it’s been what feels like hours now.
Your beloved boyfriend stuffing you full of ropy smears of cum over and over. Until your slick-filled cunt was flooded with an excess of his seed, until you couldn’t even think over the deafeningly saturated slurps of thick wads oozing out from you down below.
Until you were fucked stupid after only a few greedy hits of Ino’s fattened tip into your melty core - until he was utterly spellbound, too, after about solely ten minutes into this new round.
“T-Taku…” You yelp, throat scratchy with how strained your poor whines have become. Your legs dangle helplessly off his strong shoulders, such a sloppy mating press by now that it would be embarrassed to even be called one. “Baby- harder. Wan’ more…wan’ you to f-fill me up.”
Fuck.
Now, Ino knew that you were thoroughly drowned and cockdrunk - but he didn’t know you were this ruined. And fuck- fuck, he’s giving the side of his fatigued thigh a harsh pinch. Once. Twice.
Trying oh-so-hard to blink back some semblance of thought into his dizzy mind. He feels like he’s nodding drunkenly, planting a damp trail of pecks down your cheek because shit, he missed your mouth. “Oh. Wh-what was that? Ngh- say it again f’me, pretty? P-please–”
“Taku—” you’re whining impatiently. Cloying wet grinds of your hips swirling his thickened length around you so blissfully, sugarcoating thick rings of pre around your insides. “J-jus’ cum inside me again.”
“Sh-shit-” Ino’s pretty features scrunch up in such bliss, plumped-up balls squeezing to dredge out another wispy chain of cum. “Ohh ya have n-no idea what ya do to me.” Decorating your familiarly bruised cervix with a freshly lathered glaze, he’s whimpering. “C-can you say that f’me a-again, sweetness?”
And you’re letting your pouty maw fall slack in order to - to demand for more. A few stupidly mewling sentences on the edge of your tongue when Ino’s reeling his hips back and thudding numerous wet collides into your sloppy cunt. Prespired body glissading easily - so sloppily - against yours in determined smack! smack! smacks! such a tangled mess of limbs and need.
God- it almost hurts. Overstimulation and pleasure hitting him doubly all at once, he’s gritting his teeth with a rough groan of your name before planting more pounds after pounds.
“D-didn’t say it f’me- ngh- ah! again–” Ino’s panting into your dumbstruck-open mouth, sweat-lacquered forehead resting against yours. Pinching his thigh over and over to just keep his senses. And his deep voice cracks into a whine at the very end, “Talk to me. Please, tell me- ngh- t-talk me through it, pretty. Please-”
But his actions spoke the complete opposite.
Ino was clashing the steamy curve of his rotund tip against your g-spot so hard, beating it like a sloppy drum with every jackhammering dab of his hips. Fucking out every thought and gurgling syllable out of you with a pussydrunkenly boyish grin.
Spitting a thick pwah! of saliva onto two of his slender fingers, he’s dipping them down, down, down to roll a few zig-zagging patterns on your pulpy clit.
“C’mon- w-wanna hear your pretty voice—” he’s babbling, pearly tears making their home at the crinkled ends of his delicately pretty eyes.
“T-Taku–” You don’t think you could’ve spoken even if you wanted to, tugging through his smooth woody hair. Until it makes him hiss, and his sultry crownhead gush out wet globules of precum. “No ngh- fair.”
“Heh. Who has ya f-feelin’ like ah- this, sweetness?” He’s snickering into the corner of your mouth, chestnut eyes drooping further and further half-closed the deeper his veiny shaft was poking into the goopy bottom of your pussy. The further he was milking his seething tip on every miniscule cling of your walls. Teasing, “Who? Oh whoops- h-heh- tha’s right…you can’t talk right now.”
But oh, Ino had forgotten that just how fucked stupid that his brain was meant the exact same for his body, too.
Because in a split-second, you’re elbowing the pillowy mattress determinedly to flip the two of you over - Ino’s swollen girth still sunken inside, your brain still woozy. Even more so when straddling the slender curve of your boyfriend’s hips, trembly palms trekking down his mountainous pecs to push him flat onto the silky sheets.
Ino has such a sexy look of drunken adoration in his eyes when you’re bouncing your squelching cunt to ride him out of his mind. Prattling with your currently one-tracked brain, “S-said I wan’ you to f-fill me up, Taku–”
Oh. oh. And then he is - both of you are.
You’re jerking almost-violently at the wracking bouts of high that take over your body, flashing silvery stars behind your scrunched-up lids. Those sobbing thwack! thwack! thwacks! of his bulbous tip have you shrilling, letting Ino reach out a hand to draw little circles over your overwhelmed clit.
And he isn’t any better off - has his eyes sliding all the way back until all you could see was pure ivory, Ino’s chest arching deliciously into yours. His lower lip strawberry-red from being bitten hard enough gulp back those wrenching whimpers threatening to burst pathetically free.
One hand leaving a quick smack! to the fat of your ass before swirling it in hypnotic little circles to feel those ribbony globs of his cum sloshing around. Ah, he can feel it steaming thick masses so deep inside you - jittery fingers feeling for that familiar hot nudge at your womb. Such voluminous amounts that laminate his twitchy shaft with layers upon dripping wet layers of glistening seed, making such a mess-
Ino ends off with a giggle - a giggle. “Oh, I love it when yer r-rough w’me, pretty.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - 25 secs
“-twenty-three…twenty fouuuur-” Gojo’s dragging out, rounded tips of his fingers ghosting over your pulpy clit - just far enough to zap! your sensitive hood with an atomic buzz of jujutsu. Grinning down at you from where he’s holding you captive in a lecherous prone bone, “-twenty-five- h-heh…n’ already gone. New record, sweetheart.”
And you would’ve snapped back at your utterly ecstatic boyfriend if you could, you would’ve huffed out that he totally drawled on the count far longer than it should’ve lasted - but how could you?
Because just the sappy peck! of Gojo’s globular tip down the treacly pucker of your slit makes you dizzy. Meady wet spurts of his precum strolling languidly down your pussy lips, making such a mess - and he’d barely even shovelled you overly snug of his full, thickened tip.
But oh what was unfair - what was so completely dirty - is the way he was buzzing his filthy fingerpads with a shimmer of cursed energy, pinching your sensitive clit just enough to make you see stars.
“Ngh- oh my god.” you’re babbling out through slacked lips that feel like they’re fucking numb. Hips dizzily confused whether to bury yourself in a cocoon of those silken navy sheets or to run away.
“Yes- yes tha’s right–” he’s cooing, one hand swiping away the globular pearls of sweat that trek down your forehead, the other ringing out against your peaked clit with a miry swat! “Talk t’me ngh- l-loove hearin’ what that empty lil’ haaah- cockdrunk mind of yours has ta say.”
Sobbing out, “S’jus’ so- so big, Toru—”
“Heh…see?”
Yeah, he loved the cute wafting nonsense that spilled from your lips whenever you were fucked stupid on his thick, throbbing length. Red and angry to make your head even emptier-
And you’re scrambling helplessly towards the plushy pillows, the edge of the bed, the fucking headboard - only for Gojo to slam! one massive palm down on the mahogany headrest. Splitting it straight down the middle-
Muttering in your ear so sultry, Gojo’s slurring out a stumbling, “Now now- where’d ya think you’re going?” Your entirely shivering body being scooped up with a single curl of his bulging forearm around your throat. Fuck- his sweat-glossed biceps flex as you’re hauled back down, down, down onto his thoroughly rummaging cock.
“B-barely even halfway in n’ yer already so heheh- fucked dumb.” Giggling - giggling - deliriously in your ear in condensed little pants, he’s so hot glissading his weighty body down your back. Rows of ivory white teeth sinking into your precious ear lobe, you’re graced with a firm set of six-inch fingers on your waist. “Get- get ready for a hah- biiiig stretch, sweetheart.”
And a big stretch, it was.
It feels like you’re being rawly split apart - Gojo’s intruding girth caving out a bulging cylindrical pathway down your slobbery pussy. Puffy, crowned cockhead smearing open your gluey walls until you were sure you could feel every ridge, every thumping vein. Feel him poking his weepy divot into your mushy cervix in thick drags - you could cum from just this.
And you think you do - without your poor, spellbound goo of a brain even realizing. Your back arches into an almost painful curvature when you’re throwing your head back and cumming.
“Please- please please-” Garbling out, so fucking cute that he can’t help but lick a sleazy stripe down the glistening middle of your back and hum.
You’re gasping at the thickly vicious splatter of something on your shoulder - only to bleary your heart-filled eyes over your shoulder at the way that Gojo was drooling.
Whining, with every pap! of his prettily full balls against your ass. Slumping his heavy bodyweight like he was melting into your, ridged washboard abs massaging your back, hefty bodyweight pinning you down onto the mattress. His bicep curls into an even tighter headlock around your straining neck, “Yeah- ohoho yeahh that’s the stuff- t-talk to me s’more, my girl.”
“C-can’t even-” You’re whimpering out, hips jostling upwards in embarrassing little grinds that swirl the very rounded tip of Gojo’s tip around your melty insides. Milking out heaps upon heaps of creamy precum with every one of his greedy drives. “-can’t even think- can’t even b-breathe. J-jus’ want you…”
God - he was making a sheerly sludgy mess out of you. Branding your sweet insides with sugary coatings of precum, with thorough bruises.
“What do ya w-want, sweetheart?” Gojo’s muttering all over again, bearing your puffed-up clit with another pinch. Then another. And another. “Anything m’gonna give ya- ahhh, fuck- anything.”
Blinking up tearily, “A-anything?”
Which only makes him fuck you hard enough to practically mesh into one with the mattress - and then some. And it’s like he was pounding himself just as stupid on your cunt as you were with every one of his animalistic rams.
Sodden. Heavy. French mushes against your bruised g-spot - and you could already tell by the scarily bittersweet accuracy and those stray bolts of tiny blue lightning that Gojo was using his six eyes to cheat his way buttering your pretty cunt with lethal hits.
To spy your sweetest spots inside-
“M’gonna marry ya-” Promising over and over when he’s routing a wet trail of kisses down your perfectly arched spine. “-buy us a niiice big mansion- or a small one- your hah- choice. Grow old together, n’ I’ll kill off anyone that dares object.”
“Satoru…”
“Yes- yes?” Sapphire eyes wide and wild now - like he was in the middle of a fight, like he was prowling for prey just the way his fat tip was probing down every orifice of yours. “Tell me- tell me, sweetheart.”
“I-I want-” your lower lip wobbles adorably, and Gojo can’t help but slither his own down and suck like his favorite gummy candy. Making you mewl, “-wan’ a baby.”
And you swear you could hear the lilting crack in Gojo’s voice when he’s echoing out a highly-pitched. “A b-baby?”
The only thing your poor brain can manage out is a nod, and the only thing he can manage out is to just barely not fucking snap.
THUD!
Gojo’s got you locked in his powerful hold - muscled figure pinning you to the soiled bed, his deadlocked bicep hauling your mouth onto his. And he’s snapping his hips to yours so hard that you wince ever-so-slightly at the bruise surely formulating by now - or, well, would have formulated had it not been for Gojo’s reversed curse technique.
Working overtime now to not break a bone when he’s plugging your sodden insides with thick knots of cum. He’s cumming and cumming so hard that Gojo thinks he can’t stop - thinks he doesn’t want to.
“H-how I love when ya talk outta yer ngh- pussy, sweetheart-” Your shoulder stains with a few more translucent spatters of drool - and tears. Big and overstimulated, beading behind his glazed lids.
Gojo can’t let a single swashing wad of his seed drizzle to waste, plugging in numerously overspilling ounces back in through your puckered pussy lips. The sheer volume making his achy balls twitch with more and more. Doubly penetrating your sloppy hole with two fingers, he’s taking the sinful opportunity to slither a few spiralling patterns around your sensitive entrance.
A baby.
“A baby. A…a fuckin’ baby.” Gojo’s shaking his head - crazed. Smile humorless and dangerous where it was directed at you, and for a moment you’re wondering who really is the one fucked stupid right about now. “Oh, my girl, I’ll give you ten.”
A/N. Smooches to that one nonnie for sparking the idea hehe <3
baby!daddy toji missing his baby mama and his girl :( (x chubby reader)
tojis very unfortunately halfway through a miserable shift when his phone buzzes in his pocket, vibrating against the fabric of his trousers.
he almost ignores it.
but then he sees your name on the screen and his thumbs already moving before he can think about it. the photo loads slowly, shitty service and all, and the second it clears, he exhales hard through his nose.
its you. soft faced and sleepy looking in one of those oversized shirts he remembers too well, your baby is tucked against your chest with those big round cheeks pressed into you, tiny hand fisted in the front of your shirt while she stares into the camera, eyes wide and mouth half open like she doesnt understand what it is.
youre smiling, and its one of those small, warm ones that always got him bad. It makes his whole face tightens immediately.
"…fuck." he mutters under his breath.
the guy next to him glances over, trying to peer into tojis phone.
"what?" he asks, voice gruff, eyes fixed on tojis phone.
toji just shakes his head once, replying with a low "nothin.", already staring back at the picture, huffing out a soft laugh because his daughters got milk on her chin.
you look tired, but pretty. and his daughter just looks like the cutest thing in the whole entire world. and suddenly he misses her so bad it physically pisses him off.
he misses both of you.
he zooms in on the baby first, thumb dragging over the screen, eyes softening without him realizing, staring at those fat little cheeks and the way shes tucked right into you like that’s her favorite place on earth.
then his eyes drift back to you.
your soft stomach under the blanket, your hair messy, your face bare, holding his baby like its the easiest thing in the world.
you always send him things like this. little selfies, videos of the baby laughing, pictures of her asleep on your chest.
Irs like you know he needs them, like you know hes sitting at work missing her every second. missing you too, even if neither of you says that part out loud anymore.
"she wouldnt nap unless i held her.." you text him.
toji stares at it for a second before looking back at the photo again, then he types back.
"yeah? spoilin’ her already." he texts back.
"send me another one."
he sighs, something warm casting over his whole body. he smiles when you send him another one, this time a photo where his baby is trying to grab the camera, fingers all grabby towards the screen.
Content: contrary to popular belief, the fire lord can't have everything he wants. however, even he’d admit that what he wanted was troublesome in itself, which is why he forces himself to be okay with having you by his side as his advisor. [tw: MDNI, angst/fluff/smut, apothecary diaries coded, so much yearning and longing, slowburn, porn with plot, there is no power imbalance he’s afraid of your father, zuko’s a little shit, jealous!zuko, we’re already married in his head, found family trope(ish), zuko has daddy issues] wc: 4.7k
m.list | chapter two | chapter three | next chapter
With a gate of its own that requires special permission to enter, the western part of the palace grounds is considered to be one of the most guarded locations in the world. It’s where you can find the Fire Lord’s most precious treasures, his concubines.
It’s also where you can find the orphanage he had built a few years ago— a decision he needed no advising on, as it was an idea of his own. There was no better place for a child.
Zuko doesn’t expect everyone to agree with every action he makes. In fact, he encourages everyone to think for themselves. By all means, ask questions, disagree with him, show him a different perspective— allow him to serve his people.
He is a fair man.
However, the number of individuals that were against building the orphanage made him question just who exactly was he serving, because at that moment, he was surrounded by a bunch of fucking monsters.
Apparently, placing children that were of low birth in the western court would’ve sent a ‘bad message’. In other words, it’d bring their value down to that of an abandoned child.
Do you know how morally bankrupt you’d have to be to think that? The entire purpose of closing off the area was to keep women and children safe, it shouldn’t matter if they’re biologically his or not. Even the strategist saw no validity in their concerns, and he’s known for rejecting proposals, for no reason other than finding joy in others' struggles.
Needless to say, he continued with his plans.
The circumstances of one’s birth and status becomes irrelevant once they become a child of the palace. Zuko made sure of that by making an actual title out of it, all while hoping it’d be enough to appease a few nobles.
He may have also let Aang take part and have a little fun with the drafting process. It looks ridiculous on paper— the document starts off by declaring them as the cutest members of the court— the failure to recognize them as such will result in the immediate loss of one's honor.
Jokes aside, the document is as valid as it gets and it has been advised that it be treated as such. It’s one of the very few documents that mentions the death penalty— testing the legitimacy of it is not a game you want to play with him.
The orphanage takes up a fair amount of space. The home itself is double the size of a high ranked concubine’s, with a decent sized vegetable garden obstructing the view of it. If some of the concubines are anything like their families, the last thing they need is the constant reminder that their chambers could be bigger. They are more than welcome to visit the children, though— many of them actually do, along with the servant girls.
And you, surprisingly.
Aside from all the planning, you never mentioned anything about the orphanage, let alone show interest in the matter. He just assumed you weren’t the maternal type, only to catch you there six months after the palace started taking in children. He then assumed you were just there to make sure everything was running smoothly.
Wrong.
He looked closer and the sight had him reconsidering just how much he knew you because you were clearly there to give a chubby, mindless baby a tour of the garden. You gave them a tomato to gnaw on while you pointed out all the different vegetables being grown, too.
The conversation he had with you shortly after sounded more like an interrogation.
“What are you doing here?”
You looked at the child, then back at the lord who just awkwardly stood there like a child lost at the market, before stating the obvious. “Visiting.”
“Yeah, but… why?”
Your brows raised, “Am I not allowed to?”
“I mean— yeah. Of course you are, but—” he paused and gestured at the child, “why did you give the baby a tomato?”
“Because she wanted it,” you said, voice calm despite growing visibly frustrated with the questions. He gave you a puzzled look, because babies can’t fucking talk, and you further elaborated. “She was reaching for it and I let her have it.”
He almost asked if you were worried about the child choking, but you obviously weren’t since they couldn’t even break the skin of it. You seemed quite confident in your ability to keep the little human alive, which also took him by surprise. “Wait— so you come here a lot?”
You let out a sigh. “Yes.”
The questions stopped there. He didn’t want to offend you or discourage you from making future visits.
Zuko still doesn’t know your visiting schedule, you never tell him when you go even after he’s expressed wanting to visit with you. He thought today would be his lucky day since your visits have been longer due to Mira being there, but the gods never seem to grant his wishes no matter how simple they are.
The next time he would see you is at the training site, speaking with your father. He was somehow able to give you and the soldiers his full attention, because he stopped talking to you for a split second to bark at one of them to fix their posture.
He took that as his sign to leave. The strategist apparently had eyes on every side of his head and for all he knew, he’d be the next one to catch some odd form of that man’s wrath.
. . . . . .
It’s easy to forget just how big the palace is, but unfortunately for your fathers assistants, they are reminded of that fact whenever he summons you. The task is time consuming, your location changes depending on what you’re working on, and a lot of the time, you are working on multiple things at once. What’s worse is half the time you’re too busy to go see him, making their efforts all for nothing.
Today’s unlucky assistant checked every single location there was to think of before giving the west wing a try. He wasn’t a fan of the guards there, they’ve always treated him as if he were trying to break in and steal one of Lord Zuko’s concubines.
You would’ve declined to meet your father today had his assistant not been in such rough shape. Not only was he tired, but he was also afraid thanks to the guards.
“How was your trip to Republic City?”
The question made your face momentarily drop— that’s what he wanted to ask? He could’ve written you a letter!
“It was busy, but good, I guess. Found some volunteers for the Silk District project.” You don’t spare him the details. Ever. He’s the type to nitpick at them in hopes of catching a mistake that could be pinned on the Fire Lord.
He raises a brow. “You’re not too tired, are you?”
“No,” you assure him. “Not at all.”
He gives you a suspicious look before continuing. “Good— anyways, I’d like to send a few soldiers with you on your trip to the Silk District. I’ve received word that it’s only grown more violent since the incident with the brothel workers and I wouldn’t be surprised if those beasts tried to target you.”
It’s like he forgot that you tried to kill him once. He also called you a beast that day… and an evil little bitch.
You smile. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he barks out an insulting laugh. “The Fire Lord may be a ruler, but don’t expect him to play the role of a protector, too. That man has a duty to stay alive and needs to focus on saving himself. You will have soldiers there to keep an eye on you.”
You let out a laugh of your own, letting it die out into a silence that ends up getting dragged out past the point of comfort. “I understand your concerns. However, that is not necessary and I’m going to have to respectfully decline your offer.”
“It’s not an offer—”
“Father,” you’re calm as you cut him off with a simple warning.
“No, listen to me—”
“I will break them beyond belief.” You casually threaten him, making it sound as if it were an event you were looking forward to. It makes the strategist quickly drop it— he’d rather not see you go through with that promise. You take a deep breath, pleased at how easy that was to settle, and move on as if you didn’t just threaten his men. “I am fully capable of protecting myself and will be just fine without soldiers. So please, don’t worry about me.”
You don’t know what kind of nonsense that old man’s head is filled with. He knows you're strong enough to protect yourself, he also knows you would never count on anyone to save you, and yet he still does… that.
Sending people after you, demanding your presence, making you accept his help.
He was worse when you were a child, there was a point in time where his control reached even the simplest parts of your life. But that wasn’t the part that infuriated you, it was the part where he’d say you had everything.
You couldn’t even let your mind wander without being interrogated over what thoughts were in your head.
You spent your entire childhood yearning for the freedom of adulthood, only to have it ripped away while reading an acceptance letter from the most elite subdivision in the military. To be accepted into a program was considered to be the highest honor. Yet, it was just another reminder of all the choices that you never had— it wasn’t even you that applied.
Your memory of what happened afterwards is vague. You just remember showing your father what an elite soldier looked like and the experience was enough to send him into a full-blown crisis. It left him panicking over just what kind of punishment was awaiting him after death— he was certain he’d have to answer to someone for giving the world nothing but evil children.
Needless to say, he didn’t push you to go to that program. You were going to be the next head of the clan regardless, which shows you’d done enough.
The thought of you training for another few years was also deeply unsettling.
Your father has toned down since then, but there’s moments when he reverts back to the man that raised you. He still wants you to join the military, except this time around he wants you to work for him and be his replacement once he retires, just as he was for his father. He never takes no for an answer, either, and will continue to bring it up. You understand the role of an advisor doesn’t last forever, but that doesn’t mean your time as one is coming to an end soon.
The constant pursuit of control is an exhausting one. It’s become a sad sight over the years, one that makes it hard to stay angry with him.
It’d be nice to watch him take a break for once.
Unlike your fathers assistants, you don’t have to mindlessly search for the lord. There are currently no meetings, which means he’s either in his office or his personal courtyard.
Hopefully he’s in his office, you’re least likely to be met with an unwelcome surprise there.
The courtyard isn’t that bad— it’s what his courtyard leads to: his chambers. Aside from the times he’s requested your presence, it’s a place you’ve learned to heed with extreme caution.
It doesn’t get easier with time. The moment you’re met with an empty office, you’re already cursing to yourself and begging the gods that he’s clothed today. Seeing the lord naked once is already far too much and it’s already happened a handful of times throughout the years.
There is a reason why fights break out so often between concubines. It’s the same reason why Zuko laughed when that man assumed he had a small dick, and it has nothing to do with his personality.
Getting the image out of your head is a task on its own and has driven you nuts at times. It’s as stubborn as the lord himself, lingering around and refusing to fucking leave.
You soon find yourself at the entrance of his chambers, nervous as you are frustrated that he refuses to get a door. His reasoning for covering the entrance with curtains is because he enjoys the extra airflow. There’s apparently also no need for a door when he already has one at the entrance of his courtyard. Which is idiotic, in your opinion, he never hears when you knock.
You make your presence known by calling out to him. No answer. You pull the curtain aside ever so slightly and take a peek. No idiotic lord in sight.
You prepare for the worst. The first step is taken and you call out to him again, this time it’s more of a warning. Your footsteps echo throughout the dim space, and with each second that passes, you find yourself feeling more and more like an intruder.
This really is the worst job sometimes.
You call his name, again. Nothing. Your eyes land on the hallway leading to his bedroom and the doors wide open. If he were in there, he would’ve come out by now.
He’s not here.
The conclusion brings a sigh of relief as you move on with your thoughts. There’s one other place he could be and that’s the western court, which leaves you torn. If he’s with a concubine, then that means you can take the rest of the day off. It’s getting later in the afternoon though and you’d rather not end up with more work tomorrow just because you made that assumption.
You turn on your heel and begin to walk out, too lost in thought to pay much attention to what’s in front of you. It’s not until you’re just steps away from the entrance when you're startled by a figure blocking it.
Startled may be an understatement. You let out this quick, blood curdling scream that left your throat raw afterwards.
You’re dying inside from the embarrassment and Zuko thinks it’s fucking hilarious.
“What kind of an intruder gets frightened like that?”
Your heart’s still pounding against your chest from the initial fear, making it difficult to answer back, let alone argue. “I was just— I’ve been trying to look for you— god I fucking hate you— you been standing here this whole time and you couldn’t even say anything?”
"It’s not like I was hiding.” His grin widens. “I expected you to be a little more aware of your surroundings.”
“Yeah? Well not everyone’s used to living in a cave,” you say bitterly, finally looking back at him again. “Sorry I’m not used to the darkness.”
He dressed down in training pants and a tunic, but clothed nonetheless. He must’ve been getting some training in since his hair’s up, too.
“I thought you only trained in the mornings?”
He crosses his arms and leans against the entryway, then shrugs. “The afternoon’s nice sometimes when it's quiet. One of the servants told me you were looking for me on the way there— you alright?”
“I’m wonderful.” You weren’t sure what kind of an answer he was expecting— he asked as if that wasn’t your job to look for him. “Was there anything that needed to be finished before the day ended?”
He hums and thinks about it, then shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Are you sure?” you ask, giving him a skeptical look.
“Positive.”
“I don’t believe you.” There’s a tinge of defeat in your tone and the little smile he gives tells you he’s in that little mood to fuck with you. “Zuko, I’m serious— I don’t want to have more work for tomorrow.”
Oh, wow. You’re actually saying his name.
He lets out this warm, airy laugh, further making a mockery of your suffering. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You didn’t have to!”
“No,” he laughter dies into a low hum. “You’re all done for the day. Promise.”
You just stare at him for a moment. It’s not that you don’t believe him, you do. He’s just a pest and you can’t believe he’s in charge of millions of people sometimes.
“You should come train with me— I think it might help with whatever you got bottled up right now,” he casually offers.
“You scared me senseless and then you made me go around in circles trying to get an answer,” you slowly spell it out for him, not realizing it only fills his chest with a sick sense of pride. “This is because of you.”
“And now you can get revenge” he gives the solution easily, making it sound like the opportunity of a lifetime. “You won’t have to hold back on me, either. It’s probably been a while since you got to spar with someone without worrying about killing them.”
A smile manages to break through as you prepare to shut him down, yet words come out surprisingly sincere. “It pains me to say this, but I’m not sparring with someone as important as you.”
“That’s the sweetest thing you ever said to me, you know that?” he manages to get a little remark in right before you start listing reasons why.
“Aside from Uncle Iroh, you’re pretty all alone. There is no one next in line, not even a child— that you could’ve had by now, by the way.”
“Yes, I could’ve had multiple,” he comments in amusement.
“You have multiple meetings a week and they’re all with important people, too. Their job is to notice what’s wrong, especially when it comes to you. Any concerns they have, whether it be a scratch or bruise, can be made into a problem.”
“So what you’re saying is you’re afraid to hurt me?” he asks, words dripping from his lips like warm honey.
You’d think he’d be offended or maybe even start to make fun of you for thinking that, and you’re getting neither. He’s more flattered than anything right now.
“I would love to.” you coldly break it to him, then go on to say a bunch of things that you hope he doesn’t make fun of you for. “But it’s you who puts on the Fire Lord’s crown everyday and people are safe now because of that— they get to live their lives in peace. Even if it were something light, I’m not going to spar with someone who has a title that actually means something. It’s not like I enjoy bending that much, anyway.”
Zuko finds himself completely still as he takes your words in— not tense, nor shocked, just processing them.
He thought you were kidding when you said he was too important.
It’s not like his title was something you overlooked. He’s never even had to wonder if you approved of having him as the nation’s ruler. You’ve worked with him for years— of course he had your approval, of course you thought he was competent. He just never expected you to hold him in such high regard as the Fire Lord.
Taking responsibility for his family’s crimes has been nothing short of rewarding, but with it comes a certain guilt whenever he sat on that throne— it makes him wonder if it was time to shed some of that weight.
“Thank you.” His words come out tender, eyes golden and filled with awe. He’d like to say more, but something tells him that your words haven’t caught up to you yet, and so he clears his throat and moves on. “So what’s this about never having liked bending?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t really like fighting. All the running and jumping around is tiring” You murmur, just the thought of it makes you look miserable. “I only went to training because I had to.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he hums, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn’t around for a good chunk of time, but he’s heard about how brutal that training was— all the fainting and bloody noses due to exhaustion. “Are you happy now, at least?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re family was set on turning you into a fucking killing machine,” he huffs out a laugh, still surprised that you hated fighting this entire time. “Are you happy with where you ended up instead?”
“Mmm— yeah.” You pause and Zuko waits for the complaint. “It’d be nice if you made my job easier though and just answered my questions with a simple yes or no.”
“You know I like messing with you,” he murmurs, poking the tip of your nose and earning himself a little glare. “Makes my day a lot more fun.”
“I am not your jester.” You try to say it with a straight face, only for you both to end up having to suppress a laugh, then remember what you came here for just shortly after. “I guess I should get going then since there’s no more work for today.”
“Yeah— easy day.” He wishes you wouldn’t go right now. “…Are you returning to the north wing?”
That’s where your chambers are, on the complete opposite side of the palace grounds.
“Mhm,” you nod, shifting your stance— you can’t actually leave, he’s blocking the door.
“Your chambers are up to standard, right?” He doesn’t move, he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I remember you complaining about them once.”
“That was two years ago,” you kindly remind him, his ability to remember such a small detail leaving you slightly concerned. You only complained about a creaky cabinet. “But, nope. I’m very cozy there.”
“Can I see?”
“No,” you say as politely as possible. “Any other questions?”
He gives a contemplative hum— the longer it goes on the more concerned you grow. It’s not like you can leave since he hasn’t moved, so you’re forced to stand and wait.
Now he’s tilting his head and studying your face.
“Do you plan on ever asking anything?”
“I was still thinking about it. But since you’re in a rush right now, sure.” The fabric of his shirt stretches over his biceps as he crosses his arms, eyes lazily trail down to your lips. “Let me kiss you again.”
You let out a long sigh as you start to murmur to yourself. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“I’m not,” his brows furrow with the defensive response. “Just one.”
“Why?”
“I find it unfair that we both share the same experience, yet be in two different states of being— I was drunk.” It’s a pathetic excuse, one he just came up with.
“That’s your fault.” You almost mentioned the fact that he basically jumped on you and you had no idea about, but decided against it out of fear that it’d create an entire argument. “Besides, I was tipsy, too.”
“I still think you should let me kiss you,” he persists.
“Of course you do.”
“Can I?”
“You are a pest,” you murmur to yourself once again. “Would you like me to escort you to one of your concubines?”
“No, thanks,” he curtly says, before thinking again. “C’mon, I gave you a baby—“
You cut him off, because he did not— Mira is a child of the palace. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Alright, fine, sorry.” He lazily holds his hands out in defense. “It’s really easy if you close your eyes, by the way.”
“You're full of shit.”
“I am a man that would like a simple kiss.”
You look at him, then the entrance he’s blocking, then back at him again.
Zuko notices and smiles. “One kiss and you shall be released.”
You were right, he was blocking the door on purpose. Bastard. It takes you a moment to even take his wishes into consideration. It probably won’t be awkward afterward since it’s happened before, but then that opens the door to him asking again.
You look at him and he’s never looked more smackable with how unapologetic he is about it all.
“You’ll let me go after?”
“Mhm.”
You take more time to respond, clearly struggling with the idea of allowing something like this to happen. A part of you wants to make a run for it, but you also don’t want to find out if he’d actually catch you.
“Alright, fine,” you quietly say, already growing nervous from the grin that pulls out of him.
“Don’t look so scared,” he hums as he starts walking closer.
His words pull a slight frown from you. “It’s hard not to when you say it like that.”
He stops right in front of you and gently lifts your chin to look at him. “Like what?”
“That.” There’s less of a bite in your tone, he’s more intimidating when he’s this close. “Don’t make this any harder for me.”
He rubs his thumb over your chin, giving you a sympathetic look. “I like it when you’re sweet like this.”
Just moments later, both of hands are cupping your jaw and he’s leaning forward.
His lips are soft.
They’re not crashing into you this time and you can’t help but think about how they’re pressed against you so gently. Even with the way he takes his dear time, everything feels so light, it’s easy to breathe.
Slowly, he pulls away and you’re met with heavy lidded eyes. His hands are still cupped around your jaw, you’re not sure if you want them to pull away just yet.
His thumbs rub over your cheeks. “Would you be mad about one more?”
You know you should pull away, the disappointment for not doing so comes out in your voice. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know,” he murmurs, nose brushing against yours before pressing another kiss against your lips. “I’ll leave you alone after this.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His only response was another kiss. It starts off like the first, but becomes more familiar. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in and deepening it, until the faint sounds of your lips parting and moving with his could be heard.
By the time he pulls away, you’re both slightly out of breath, and you’re wondering if this is where the line should be drawn.
Zuko’s thinking the exact opposite. “Still think we shouldn’t be doing this?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this at all,” you let out a small laugh.
His hold on you is firm and when you fail to turn your face away, he looks at you in amusement. “Why are you laughing then?”
“Because I was supposed to leave after the first one.”
“Sorry about that.” He smiles and presses a kiss against your temple. “You’re allowed to admit that you’re liking this, by the way.”
“I’m not doing that,” you say, words stubborn and final.
And Zuko laughs because you wouldn’t have the privilege to come up with such an answer if you were in another scenario. You’d be admitting to all kinds of things if he could have his way with you.
He of course doesn’t say that, being the gentleman that he is. “You’re a very cruel woman, you know that?”
You press your finger into his chest. “And you are a very selfish man.”
Which probably wasn’t a very good idea, the poking and the name calling. It seems to have put an inappropriate thought in his head given the groan he had to suppress.
“I am a very selfish man,” he says in a dangerously low tone.
And then his lips are on yours because for years he’s been deprived of one of the most simple joys in life: touching a woman he likes.
So he touches you gently. He kisses you deeply. He has been fucking starving, but he savors you completely.
Until there’s metal crashing down on the floor, followed by a yelp that makes you push him away, hard. The servant’s apologizing profusely for dropping the platter that was carrying his tea and for intruding.
Then she scatters away, ashamed and embarrassed. She was under the impression that all of the Fire Lord’s intimate encounters took place in the chambers of his concubines. She was also under the impression that he only had intimate encounters with his concubines.
Which is correct. It’s also why you take off running after her. If the details of what she had just encountered began to spread, you are fucked.
notes: god i need him so fucking bad i just know he'd talk u through it wait im the writer HE DOES talk u through it
toji rocks back and forth on his feet, bouncing on his toes, fixing his cuffs, anything to distract himself from the nerves creeping up his body. he feels nauseous, terrified, excited, zealous, all in the best ways. you came into his life with nothing but open arms, and in return, he bought you the most beautiful ring his money could buy.
now he just has to make sure you’re walking down the aisle to meet him.
he’s never been a optimist, but he hopes to everything that may be listening to please ensure you don’t get cold feet.
tsumiki and megumi already took their time scattering the flowers down the aisle (you’d mentioned how you wanted megumi to hold onto the rings, but toji was far more set on his kids being flower tossers). they stand exactly where toji had directed, tsumiki smiling at the cameras and megumi shyly standing close to his dad.
he tugs on toji’s pant leg, big eyes blinking up at his dad- a silent reminder that no matter what, his son and step-daughter will always be there. he smiles down, ruffles megumi’s hair, and tips his head back to look at the sky in search of peace to calm the screaming thoughts of anxiety in his head.
but then, he hears megumi gasp. immediately, his hand lets go of his father’s pants and he makes a break for it, and when toji instinctively panics, it melts away when he sees you- megumi’s running to you.
tsumiki squeals and jumps excitedly, “she looks so pretty, daddy!”
he smiles as he watches megumi toddle down to meet you, arms extended. your best friend opens her arms to catch him, but he’s disinterested as he wraps his tiny arms around your dress. the whole crowd gasps when he steps on the long fabric, but you don’t seem phased by it- like you’d been expecting it.
you pass your friend the bouquet and scoop megumi up, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he wraps his arms around your neck. tsumiki giggles and makes a beeline down the aisle to you as well, arms wrapping around your legs while you pet her hair affectionately.
“you’re both so silly,” you tease, and toji sinks his teeth into his lip to ward of the tears that well in his eyes.
you manage to work her up your torso with the help of your friend, pressing another kiss, this time to her styled hair. your arms are full of two small children, your best friend walking you down the aisle with a bouquet in one hand and a hand on your lower back in the other.
and then your eyes lock with toji’s.
he finally blinks a line of tears out. damnit.
you make your way down the aisle, composure and confidence in the air as you stride. toji hears the little whispers about how gorgeous you look and how beautiful you are, tsumiki even taking the liberty of answering back with an excited “she is!” you laugh at her words and she’s earned with another small kiss.
after what feels like an eon, you finally stand in front of toji.
you snicker.
“i told you you would cry,” you tease.
he chuckles and wipes a tear with his thumb, “yeah yeah yeah. still a lot of wedding left.”
you make a move to put megumi and tsumiki down, the young girl obeying while megumi tightens his grip, not ready to let go.
“megumi!” tsumiki whines. “they gotta get married! come on!”
toji rocks back and forth on his feet, bouncing on his toes, fixing his cuffs, anything to distract himself from the nerves creeping up his body. he feels nauseous, terrified, excited, zealous, all in the best ways. you came into his life with nothing but open arms, and in return, he bought you the most beautiful ring his money could buy.
now he just has to make sure you’re walking down the aisle to meet him.
he’s never been a optimist, but he hopes to everything that may be listening to please ensure you don’t get cold feet.
tsumiki and megumi already took their time scattering the flowers down the aisle (you’d mentioned how you wanted megumi to hold onto the rings, but toji was far more set on his kids being flower tossers). they stand exactly where toji had directed, tsumiki smiling at the cameras and megumi shyly standing close to his dad.
he tugs on toji’s pant leg, big eyes blinking up at his dad- a silent reminder that no matter what, his son and step-daughter will always be there. he smiles down, ruffles megumi’s hair, and tips his head back to look at the sky in search of peace to calm the screaming thoughts of anxiety in his head.
but then, he hears megumi gasp. immediately, his hand lets go of his father’s pants and he makes a break for it, and when toji instinctively panics, it melts away when he sees you- megumi’s running to you.
tsumiki squeals and jumps excitedly, “she looks so pretty, daddy!”
he smiles as he watches megumi toddle down to meet you, arms extended. your best friend opens her arms to catch him, but he’s disinterested as he wraps his tiny arms around your dress. the whole crowd gasps when he steps on the long fabric, but you don’t seem phased by it- like you’d been expecting it.
you pass your friend the bouquet and scoop megumi up, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he wraps his arms around your neck. tsumiki giggles and makes a beeline down the aisle to you as well, arms wrapping around your legs while you pet her hair affectionately.
“you’re both so silly,” you tease, and toji sinks his teeth into his lip to ward of the tears that well in his eyes.
you manage to work her up your torso with the help of your friend, pressing another kiss, this time to her styled hair. your arms are full of two small children, your best friend walking you down the aisle with a bouquet in one hand and a hand on your lower back in the other.
and then your eyes lock with toji’s.
he finally blinks a line of tears out. damnit.
you make your way down the aisle, composure and confidence in the air as you stride. toji hears the little whispers about how gorgeous you look and how beautiful you are, tsumiki even taking the liberty of answering back with an excited “she is!” you laugh at her words and she’s earned with another small kiss.
after what feels like an eon, you finally stand in front of toji.
you snicker.
“i told you you would cry,” you tease.
he chuckles and wipes a tear with his thumb, “yeah yeah yeah. still a lot of wedding left.”
you make a move to put megumi and tsumiki down, the young girl obeying while megumi tightens his grip, not ready to let go.
“megumi!” tsumiki whines. “they gotta get married! come on!”
synopsis: married to toji for three years, life was bliss. a new step mother, dutiful wife and a loving blue collar husband — you life couldn’t be more perfect. but behind the perfect family both husband and wife had deeper secrets to hide when they are tasked with killing each other.
content: mentions of blood, death & killing (not graphic), false pretenses, hurtful & harsh language, smut
note: this is my 1k special — tysm!!! BASED OFF MR & MRS SMITH (ily angelina jolie) — sword divider @/fairytopea & art: @/lilyxxssi on twt :: wc: 5.7k
“okay megumi, have a great day honey!”, you cooed, kissing your son’s head as he trotted out the door. you held out your hand with a heavy lunch box hanging off your hand, “and um, you too.”
your husband stood next to you at the opening of the door, eyes roaming your figure as he towered over you, work box in his hand.
“made me lunch?”, his gravelly voice murmured as he grabbed the heavy thing from your hand to settle it with the rest of his stuff.
“i get a sweet goodbye too…or that’s just for the kid?”
“sure”, you cooed, bending your head back as toji landed a quick kiss to your lips. “okay bye!”
you watched the two tottle off to toji’s truck and as you heard the muffler pull down the road in loud bursts, you shut the door with a sigh.
you leaned off the door, eyes scanning your perfect house, clean floors, painted walls and family pictures that felt like you weren't actually in them.
one last peek through the front blinds, you pad softly to the kitchen, hands pressing down on the counter until you hear a soft click as the side panel opens to grab the file that peeks out.
okay. it's 8:15 am right now, your eyes flahsed to the clock, megumi gets out at 4 and you need to be back by 2:00pm to get groceries to make dinner by the time toji is home at 6.
the usual day off for you.
and the usual morning for toji.
he threw all his stuff including the lunch, you carefully and neatly, packed for him, on the floor of his truck as he pulled up in front of megumi's school. "have a good day, kid."
and then he was off.
yes, toji fushiguro was a plumber. he had the tool box, the overalls and the license to prove it! hell...it was even on his beatup truck he drove around to promote the damn business.
but if you looked closer...every house he went into didn't leave the same.
blood splattered walls that would be scrubbed clean. windows wiped until they reflected nothing back. that heavy toolbox? it held more than wrenches—just a small handgun fitted with a silencer, a few rounds. enough to get the job done.
drop, fix "the problem", kill, clean, maybe do paperwork and head home. that was his routine.
the average blue collar worker he was not.
but you couldn't deny his facade wasn't masterful, the perfect, too perfect, beautiful wife, and the all too well-behaved son. it fell into his lap truly.
only thing that made it realer, were the cracks hidden beneath, interwined with the lies he spouted, and that you did as well— but that's not the point—started to show.
his wife, you, despised him. or at least that's what he concluded and told himself.
no matter how many soft smiles, chaste kisses, and hate fucking, couldn't cut through the growing distance the man saw behind your eyes every time you sat down at the table after a long day.
so much so that toji truly suspects that you are cheating on him. well deluded himself into believing so, really.
dressed in long black trench coats with fresh lipstick on as you press a light kiss his cheek, "i will be back soon, honey." slipping out the door in red bottoms, he definitely did not buy for you.
he couldn't say he was much better but when he is sent a mission he must do what needed to be done.
like what he's doing now. he pushed into the building that definitely could use multiple scrubs and a desperate paint job. hs heavy boots being the only sound resonating past the static of the game on the television playing inside.
with a grunt, he dropped his belongings on the empty workroom table, the hevay metal toolbox landing first with a resounding clang, the cheap lunchbox you packed for him, landing after sliding against the wood with little effort.
"you're late. but what's new?"
shiu sat in the corner of the room, legs kicked up on his busy desk of papers and files, cigarette between his lips as he eyes flickered between the old television propped up on the wall and toji's tired figure. his chair wa tilted back, his face illumianted by the glow of the computer from whatever file he should be working on.
"like i give a shit," toji muttered, landing in his adjoining chair with a sigh, "traffic", he conceded without being asked as he rolled his shoulders back.
shiu hummed, amused as his eyss flicked to the mess toji left in his wake, "wifey made you lunch again? how thoughtful," he teased.
toji clicked his tongue, reaching for the lunch box, popping it open, and eating a loose carrot from inside, "yeah..shit looks the same every fucking day."
he tossed it across the room without another thought.
shiu caught it one-handed, blinking in mild surprise before cracking it open again, looking at the array of nicely cooked food you made for the bulky man.
“you serious?” he laughed, glancing inside and grabbing a fork to scoop some. “this looks good.”
“then eat it,” toji shot back, already turning away. “saves me the trouble.”
shiu shook his head, amused, but didn’t argue—setting the box down beside the keyboard as he finally leaned forward.
“anyway,” he said, voice shifting just slightly. “you’ve got a job.”
"alright," he said crackinh his knuckles, "hit me."
and that job was no joke. toji was beat.
he groaned, rolling his shoulders as he shut the door on the truck harder than necessary. his boots slamming against the pavement as he trudged up to the house.
he didn't even need to pull out his keys, you opened door just as he landed on the top step, his hand on his right shoulder working out a knot.
"you're late."
"what a popular fucking statement today," he muttered walking past you and dropping his stuff by the door.
he huffed as he worked to get his shoes off, you observed him leaning against the shut door, "you look very worn out," you said carefully, eyes full of an emotion he couldn't exactly pinpoint.
"rough day…fighting alot of…stuff."
"fighting toilets, fushiguro?"
he gritted his teeth, he could hear the fucking smile in your voice and it fucking bothered him, especially as he felt another zap of pain go through his body, "more than toilets. dear."
"well, no need to get mad at me," you stifled a laugh, "i didn't beat your ass up."
"dinner's in the microwave," your eyes dragged to his items and noticing the missing lunchbox you handed this morning, "if you're going to eat."
"lovely," he bit back, "let's hope it's edible."
weeks passed like that.
the slow moving around each other but the undeniable attraction. you saying your goodbyes as you both went to "work" but really and truly, it was just your covers for your real jobs.
neither of you were any wisr, going through your rotuines just thinking of your dreadful but happy lives at home and the dangerous ones you hid from the other.
and today, that should've been like any other day.
you recieved the file,
location: las vegas
status: active
priority: high
fuck, you were going to have to call the babysitter.
it wasn’t a big deal. it never was. you’d be back before midnight, slip into bed like nothing happened. if anyone asked, you’d mumble something about overtime, a missed data sheet—megumi wouldn’t question it, and toji was fucking gullible. it would work out…until it didn't.
cause this simple extraction was so fucking difficult now because a man was there…why would a man be there??? and of course he was making your life ten times harder than it needed to be.
your brows furrowed as you ducked behind cover, gun raised instinctively as a shot rang out, the bullet grazing the wall just inches from your head.
“are you fucking kidding me—”
another shot rang, just barely missing your head, oh whoever he was, he was good.
you grit your teeth, shifting your stance as you fired back, forcing him to move. footsteps echoed, sharp and controlled, matching yours almost perfectly.
"just fucking great."
toji exhaled sharply, ducking behind a pillar as another bullet whizzed past him.
“fuckin’ annoying,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his shoulder as he adjusted his grip.
this was supposed to be easy.
and now whoever you were, was giving him a run for the little money he did have, trading shots as you refused to miss.
every move you made, he countered.
every step he took, you anticipated.
it was like an intense game of tag and one of you weren't going to leave alive.
and finally he got a glimpse of you face, not enough for recongition but enough that he met your eyes.
you both lifted your guns shooting quickly before ducking for cover.
bang.
the sound resonated through the new found silence of the warehouse both of your chests heaving heavy breathes, waiting naticpating for the adrenaline to wear off so you could tell whose body got hit and whose bullet landed the final blow.
and it was yours.
toji groaned, pain zapping through his shoulder, as he tumbled over blood filling up his shirt as he heard you escape for the door. shit.
your hand instinctively flew up, fingers brushing against the thin line of blood now trailing down your left ear.
you were luckier, his bullet just grazed your ear, it hurt like hell, but it was much more manageable than the bulet in his shoulder.
but the entire side of your neck was trailing blood and that visible garze on your ear was going to be very hard to explain. very hard.
and when you got home it was late. way later than you epected when you tumbled in dazed, ignoring the observant looks from the babysitter as you sent her on her way.
it was dark. too dark and too quiet. the air was still around you, and it felt as if at least you could take a deep breath of air.
heels clicking softly against the floor as you stepped further in the living room , the house dark and quiet in a way that felt…off. your brows pulled together slightly as your eyes scanned the space, keys still in your hand, no boots by the door, no low hum of the tv.
toji wasn’t home.
that was unusual. but perfect for you.
you exhaled, slowing the intense beating of your heart as you finally kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your coat. your fingers brushed your ear again, wincing at the sting where dried blood had settled. “shit…” you muttered under your breath, already moving upstairs, you quickly peeked in megumi's room snug in his seats with his many plushies surrounding his soft sleeping face.
after seeing him, you didn't bother with anything else, just stripped and stepped into the shower, twisting the handle until hot water poured over you, steam filling the space as you leaned your head back against the tile. it stung immediately, the cut along your ear burning as the water dragged down over the scratches along your arms and ribs. messy. sloppy. you clicked your tongue softly, letting the water wash it all away, hands dragging over your skin like you could erase it. you needed to look normal. even if you didn't feel it.
even while your body screamed just to pass out or even to dunk your head in a ice bath.
the front door opened downstairs with a heavy sound, quiet but familiar.
toji stepped inside with a low grunt, shutting the door behind him harder than usual, jaw tight as he rolled his shoulder—then immediately stilled when pain shot through him. “tch…” he exhaled, breath uneven, blood already soaking through his shirt, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.
he didn't have time to get patched up, shiu was fucking useless and the police was impeding on the location, he could only hope you were asleep. but god, this was so annoying.
his eyes flicked around the dark house instinctively, taking in the silence before lifting toward the ceiling and finally settling on the faint sound of running water.
“…she’s up.”
he moved slower than usual up the stairs, steps heavier, more careful, hand brushing briefly against his shoulder before dropping again like he didn’t want to acknowledge it.
you stepped out of the shower just as the bathroom door creaked open, body going still for half a second before you reached for a towel, wrapping it around yourself like nothing was wrong. “you’re home,” you said lightly, not turning around right away.
“yeah.”
your eyes followed him in the mirror, like every step every movment cost him something, dragged him somewhere you couldn't exactly pinpoint.
"later than usual," you murmured softly, eyes still on him as he manuevered around the space stiffly.
"same for you."
your lips twitched faintly at that. “work.”
“yeah,” he muttered. “same.”
silence stretched between you, thick in a way that made the air feel heavier. you stepped closer, slow, deliberate, eyes dragging over him carefully now, more intense than before.
“you okay?” you asked, head tilting just slightly, gaze dropping for just a second—his shoulder.
“why wouldn’t i be?”
you hummed softly, unconvinced. “you’re moving weird.”
his jaw tightened faintly, eyes narrowing just a bit. “long day,” he said flatly. “shit happens.”
"yeah…shit happens."
your scrunitizing gaze didn't leave him or his body.
and his gaze didn't leave you either. finally taking you fully.
fresh and soft out fo the shower, he took in your calm expression, the water still clinging to your skin—then paused. he eyes froze along your arm, thin scratches, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for them.
“…what happened to you?”
you didn’t even blink, head tilting slightly as you watched him still. “what do you mean?”
“those.”
you followed his gaze like you hadn’t already noticed, like it wasn’t already accounted for. a small huff left your lips. “kitchen,” you said easily, brushing your fingers over the marks that covered your arm, “dropped a glass earlier. tried to catch it.”
you smiled then, easy, soft, and effortless. “you know how i am.”
"yeah," he muttered unconvinced, "i do."
you stepped past him, your shoulder brushing his injured arm and for a second his armour cracked.
his breath hitched, a deep shudder filling his body as you stopped just after him.
you paused, eyes quickly going back to his again stoic face before turning like nothing out of the ordnary happened.
"i’ll heat up the leftovers,” you said over your shoulder, making your way out your room like some of your suspicisons weren't just answered.
his jaw tightened at your light footsteps descending down the stairs to the kitchen. his hand coming up to touch his arm before dropping just as it brushed.
and days later, things still hadn't gone back to normal.
not that anything looked different. mornings were the same, quiet and routine, megumi out the door, you in the kitchen, toji half awake and grumbling—but there was something underneath it now. something that sat heavy in the air, unspoken, stretching between you both like a thread pulled too tight.
you moved around each other like always, brushing past in the hallway, reaching over one another in the kitchen, sitting across at the table like nothing had changed.
but everything had.
you were used to the loud, abrasive, carefree toji. he had always been loud, careless, not much brain behind his low green eyes. but now?
you noticed how even his heavy bulking footsteps seemed to slow; every step seemed placed more carefully than just being used to take him where he needed to go like it used to.
his eyes flicked around more, subtly, quick, following you more like he was checking things without making it obvious.
you caught it one morning when he reached for a glass, his gaze shifting past you for just a second, where you held your guns hitched under the sink like he knew something you didn't.
and the feeling was mutual.
toji knew you were weird. he never encountered a woman who wasn't.
and it wasn't exactly a terrible thing, but you were his wife. was he that lost in his own life that he didn't notice your quirks as you lived yours intertwined with his?
he noticed the way you moved around the house didn’t match the life you claimed to live. the way you were too quiet, murmuring to megumi, smiling softly at the moms in his class, even gazing quietly at toji. you were too precise. too accurate about guessing, about the measurements you put into food, about how you aligned the shoes, and how you almost subconsciously moved toji around without him even noticing it.
he noticed how if you grabbed something, there was never hesitation, never a second glance at what you were doing. you were always sure. always calculated. always perfect. he watched you cut the large fish he brought home just the other day, without even blinking, gutting it like it was just a small slice of meat ,and not a large hunk of fish he almost had a hard time bringing inside in the first place.
he paid attention to your hands, the soft hands that dragged down his jumpsuit when he left in the morning, that helped tie megumi's sneakers as he learned.
they weren’t what they should’ve been. not for someone who spent their days at home, cooking, cleaning, or at the office inside answering customer calls or doing whatever the hell it was you said you did.
your hands were like his. scarred, full of memories, full of marks, and full of history.
dinner even got quieter, if that was possible.
he would sit at one end, green eyes watching you right across at the other as you cooed softly to megumi, helping himself to his food, then eventually picking at your own. he felt it.
the way you watched him, the way your eyes scrutinized how even he turned his fork or listened for the shifting of his feet.
you both talked softly to each other, dancing around the obvious topic, the obvious questions that ringed around each of your minds.
who are you?
neither of you could even escape this at work. your real jobs. not the covers.
both of your agencies were on the look out for the other, waiting, chasing the assiasins giving them a run for their money.
"yeah she's highly skilled," shiu muttered, "clicking lazily at his monitor, "fucked with with ten of our drops."
toji hummed not really interested, swinging loosely in his chair as his eye sstared at the open windows of their run down business.
"got security cam thoough," he munched on the eraser of his pencil, feeling toji's green eyes land on him, "got her face in 4k. she won't know what hit her."
"let me see."
"i'll pull up her file."
his head was spinning.
watching your smiling face, on a file with your list of jobs, your kills, your refinery.
it made sense, but why him?
this was just more work to have to deal with, another mess to clean up, and it's even worse with megumi involved.
he stared at your file all day and when he was home, he just stared some more.
because there's no way.
you must have a doppleganger. a very convincing one that has your first and last name, then found you and changed it to his. it could be possible, right?
his intense green eyes following you around, as you worked in the kitchen and sent megumi with plates for the table.
he might know your idenity but you didn't know his. he had the advantage.
but…he didn't.
you were briefed loosley on the possible suspects you agency was looking for. all were elminated but one.
you husband's cold eyes stared back at you all day, bile wanting to rise up as they slid his picture over to you with one word, kill him.
but could you really do that? kill your husband. the father of your child?
dinner was awkward. not in a noticeable way. well, at least to the two of you.
lost in your own minds as your eyes absentmindedly traced over the other.
how did you hide this so well?
how did i not notice?
"you're not eating," megumi's tiny voice called out snapping you out your trance. his smaller, softer green eyes blinking back at you, mouth covered in spaghetti sauce,
"sorry baby," you sighed, a napkin in your hand to wipe at his mouth, "got a little distracted."
"me too," his rough voice called out as well.
you smiled, eyes crinkling at the cute boy who shoved another forkful of spaghetti in his mouth.
the soft clinks were all you heard, next as you forced the food, chewing in earnest to try and focus on anything but the bile still crawling up your throat.
"gumi..how would you feel if mommy disappeared?"
you froze, what the fuck?
megumi's eyes grew wide as he looked at you and back at his father. "is she leaving?"
"no i'm not—"
"yeah, she might," he bit out, stabbing a meatball in his plate, his eyes wide, alert, and fierce, staring back at you.
"well not like you'd miss daddy once he croaks out then, huh?"
you both stared at each other, forks pausing, angled like you were ready to jump out and off the wall to get each other if needed. one thing or someone stopped you and his cute yawn broke the tension building between you two.
"gumi" you cooed, petting his head, "would you like to sleep in mommy's bed tonight?"
the boy settled nicely between you and your husband, his spiky hair pulling in all directions as he snuggled in the warm sheets against your side, your hand brushing through his messy hair with care.
"and you have your sleepover with yuuji tomorrow," you said softly, your hand never ceasing its movement as his eyes fluttered shut, "are you excited?"
your words were directed to your son, but your eyes never left your husband who stared back at you in his peripheral vision, sitting up straight against the headboard with his arms crossed, listening to every word you murmured to the boy.
"mhmm! going to be so fun mama."
"i bet baby," you laughed, seeing his arms start to stretch out above his head, lips smacking lightly, your eyes looking back up to your beefy husband, "sleep well…you're going to need it."
and in the morning, you and toji were tense. to say the least.
he walked into the kitchen and you were just chopping strawberries for megumi's breakfast, he came down knife upwards in your hand and he froze.
you both watched each other as he squinted, scrutinizing your stance, your choice of knife, and the blank look on your face.
this was going to be a long morning.
but the worst of it was in the late afternoon, when megumi was all packed up, heavy bag on his back as you both walked him to the door.
you squeezed his so tight, tears damn near falling out his eyes as he trotted down to nanami who waited with a very excited yuuji. one last "i love you so much gumi" and a light "see ya, kid", with a soft head tap from toji was enough to send the boy away with a wave.
and then there was two.
you swallowed as shut the softly, grabbing an umbrella from the holder at the door whipping around and holding it at toji's neck who already had a shot gun aimed at you.
"that's how you want to play this toji?"
"i'm your wife." you said mockingly, watching him walk backwards as you pressed the metal deeper to his juglar.
"you're my mission," he hissed out at you, fixing the shotgun as you stopped just short of the living room couch, "megumi won't miss another mother figure."
"he sure won't miss you."
toji stiffened at your laugh before you continued, "you weren't much of a father anyways."
he cocked the gun back landing a shot right as you ducked and rolled over the back of the couch to hit the floor as more shots following you.
your hand hitched on the gun, stuck to the bottom of the couch, quickly spinning and pointing it at him.
"one of us…has to stay for megumi."
"right," he replied eyes fixed as you stood again, gun still at the ready, "so what's it going to be then, wife?"
"i'm not going anywhere."
"i'm not going down without a fight."
"good."
you both moved at the same time, shots ringing out as he fired and a squeal as you ducked his close range. you shimmed through the fluff rising in the air from the couch, getting in the kitchen right by the knife block, grabbing the niggest one and flinging it at him.
he ducked just in time but it grazed his shoulder as he ducked lifting his barrel and landing a blow through the kitchen wall right next to your head, scratching your cheek.
you grabbed the butcher knife, his favorite, and lunged it at his head sticking it in the wall right behind him.
"that was my favorite."
"i know!"
and it kept going.
you both were dodging, weaving, throwing and shooting. a mess of blood, fluff, and everything surrounding you as you huffed against the kitchen cabinets, resting on the floor where you found refuge again.
"done yet, toj?"
"fuck no," his visibly tired voice rang out, "have to do you in first."
and then, the doorbell rang.
you both hopped up visibly disheveled, house a mess as you quickly shedded your clothes grabbing toji's shirt he flung off and opening up to a concerned neighbor…and two officers.
"good night! officer," your swet voice rang out, "how can we help you?"
"ah..," his eyes quickly making a mental checknote of you and toji's rather…unpleasant and half naked appearance, "noise complaint.. sounded light a really intense fight."
toji stepped up closer, his shirtless front pressing onto your back as he raised a arm to the top of the door way stopping the officer's eyes from seeing further than the ripped up couch, "the missus…likes it rough. what can i say?" he chuckled.
watching the neighbor's cheeks flush as she pulled the officer away, "alright..just keep it down now."
"of course, but baby number two won't just appear."
you waved as they disappered down the steps, you shut the door again turning around and looking at a scarcthed up toji who was doing nothing.
"so what now?"
and for some reason that broke you.
"toji," your voice cracked, tears starting to spill as you watched him take a step closer to you, "i don't know what to do. honestly."
"i don't either my love," he murmured softly, his rough hands grasping your cheeks as he peered down at you, "i need you more than i realized. megumi needs you."
"you're about to kill me, right?"
he chuckled, hands grasping lower now, softly at your neck, his lips descending and landing on your own. "not right now."
his kiss was as soft as a man like toji could muster. his lips moved against yours with a quiet almost loving intensity as he bit down, feeling you whimper into his mouth.
your hands moved up, his large shirt slipping off one shoulder as your fingers gripped the soft endings of his hair at the nape of his neck.
"toji…"
your big, bleary eyes stared up at him, tears freshly falling down your cheeks did nothing but make the man harder, as he groaned, his lips crashing back into yours, rougher, heavier with enough force you hit back at the door again,
his hands hiked up your his shirt, finding and massaging your hips that his hands literally swallowed, they cascaded down your legs, holding on tightly to your thick flesh and lifting you up just to rub against his thick, hard cock in his sweatpants.
"oh my god."
"haven't fucked you in so long," he pulled back from you just slightly, hot pants brushing you face as he dropped you in the mess that was once your living room, "think you can still take it?"
"mhmmm", you whined feeling the loss of his heat as the man fixed himself over you, watching the beloved sight of his beutiful strong wife a mess on the ground because of him.
"you are beautiful."
his teeth pulled at your lip, his tongue diving in your mouth as his hand massaged your tit, the other holding his steady as he ravaged you.
his hand moved slowly, light brushes over your pebbled nipple, the light brushes carrying over your soft stomach before landing right above your covered pussy.
"didn't even get in yet, and i can feel how wet you are," he teased, his thumb pressing on your clit over the fabric, "maybe i should've fucked you with my gun instead, huh? you both would've loved that."
"you sick fuck."
his harsh words did nothing more than turn you on more, and you wrapped your legs around him and flipped him on his back. your clothed pussy right over his hard bulge, the tip nudging right at the perfect spot to make you moan as he landed back with a grunt.
"look at you," he cooed at you mockingly, "tight pussy can't even wait. humling me like a dog when you should bekilling me."
you moaned out, nails digging into his shoulders as he hissed, your hips wasting no time to rut against his own, "could say the same for you. big ass oaf got hard from getting shot at."
he chuckled, "what can i say?" flipping you back over and leaning down to your ear, "i have a hot fucking wife."
he retreated with a fat pull of your ear, satfisied at the shiver that ran down your body, his lips pressing light kisses at your pulse point before dragging his teeth down to your collar bone.
his hands never stopped either, his thumb rubbed lazy circles on your clit, two fat fingers already thrusting into you, fast and deep. curling right where you needed him on the spongy spot that had your toes curling.
"mngh—toji!"
"yeah, that's right?"
"rightthere!", you gasped clenching down hard on his fingers, his mouth sucking on the space between your shoulder as he bit down hard sending you over the edge quickly.
"f-fuck ji!"
"come on give it to me, baby."
your juices covered his fingers as he slipped out and popped them into his mouth, tongue flicking between the two moaning he pulled them out, the saliva stuck to his hands popping back at his mouth when his low green eyes settled on you again, "as sweet as you looks."
you watched as he pulled his cock out, the hevay length bobbing as he fully pulled his pants down.
"you ready?", his thumbed his tip between your folds as he popped and lazily thrusted in your entrance, lifting your legs to your shoulders, "cause i'm not stopping 'till i'm sure it sticks."
he pushed in, groaning at the feeling of your warm, hot, gummy walls pulsing around him as he finally bottomed out. "that's it, baby", he cooed his thrusts picking up as he pulled out to just his tip and slamming inside again.
he fucked into you roughly, his balls hitting your ass for every haard thrust he landed in you, his hands forcing a mean stretch on your legs as he held more of his weight down on you.
his thick tip landing a harsh blow right at your spongy spot, making you scream arms reaching desperatly to grab at his strong body.
"ji—it's too m'ch!"
"ji—ji—", he mocked you harsh thrusts punctuating between each word that left his lips,"what? you lost on my dick already? what happened," he faked pouted, watching drool fall out the side of your mouth as you tried to talk again.
but he was relentless, harsh pulsing almsot rhythm shaking you, shaking your body and the broken shell of your house, for each damning blow he landed inside you bullying your gspot till the point you were seeing stars.
you clenched down on him again, a desperate moan sneaking out as he groaned from the sensation, his hips slamming into yours finally as hot streams of cum filled you up.
he pulled out huffing, watching your fat, puffy abused cunt drool from his intensity. toji took two fingers, scooping up the loose cum and shoving it back insdie you, ignoring your overstimulated whine, plugging you back up.
"going to need a few rounds to make sure it sticks."
you didn't know how many rounds you went, but you could feel the effscts in the morning on your sore body whether ot be from toji's manhandling, sleeping on the floor or nothing. as you took in the wrecked shell of your house.
even the shower was the last thing mainly standign as you sorely moved around your bulky husband in the shower to get some semblance of grime off your body.
"we could move to aruba."
"aruba?," your husband echoed, munching on the piece of toast, blowing off the ash that fell on it as he looked at the open hole in your kitchen ceiling.
"well i didn't kill you," you said like it was obvious, " they're going to try to kill me. and you too. we should go somewhere..unreachable."
toji hummed watching you spread butter on your slice, dropping hand on the counter, "bali?"
you both looked at each other quickly shook your head,"nah."
"well we don't have much time to think", you sighed, "once megumi gets here, we have to go."
"well good thing between the three of us…"
you looked at him questionly as he stood off the creaky stool, "the kid is the who they won't be able to catch."
you laughed following him to the door knowing the very on tme nanami would drop your son off to the virtually destroyed house at 9 am on the dot.
"asteriod", is all you said as the nanami's eyebrows jumped off his face, very concerned at the…damage your house sustained.
"crazy, man i know.."
yorikae
okay i needa lock in for my exams now— bye for now!
the sink pipe’s busted, water dripping like it’s mocking you, and you’d already asked your husband for help. of course, he just shrugged, stuffed his bag, and left for work muttering, "call someone", like your plumbing problems weren’t a damn priority.
great.
so here you are, all wet, damp top clinging to your body, trying to wrestle with the pipe yourself.
spoiler: it’s not working. you panic, muttering curses, and then the slow realization that maybe calling a professional is the best idea.
you grabbed your phone and dialed the first plumbing service that popped up on internet, half-annoyed and half-desperate. they picked up after a single ring. chipper voice on the other end saying, “sure, we’ll send someone right over.”
you didn’t even have time to fix your hair or change your damn top before there was a heavy knock on the door. fast. too fast. and when you opened it,
there he was.
the man who stands infront of you, filling the whole damn doorway makes your jaw drop. broad shoulders, arms that could crush a watermelon, jeans tight enough to make you do a double take at the heaviness of his crotch. shirt clings in all the right ways, like he knows exactly how much to show.
the man didn’t wait for an invitation. his eyes dragged over you slow, tight top, bare arms, the curve of your hips, the way you stood there like you’d forgotten how to breathe. a low whistle left his mouth, lazy and shameless, like he was already picturing things he shouldn’t.
you can feel your cheeks flush, your chest tightening like someone shoved a damn fist in there.
and he notices. oh, he does. his eyes roam, unapologetic, cocky as hell, slow as they travel over the curve of your chest, the way your leggings hug your ass. he’s not subtle. not even a little. he leans against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, and you feel your stomach drop.
“need help, doll?” he asks, in a low voice, dripping with smirk and something nasty lurking underneath.
you clear your throat, trying to act cool, failing spectacularly. “uh… yeah… I do.”
he strolls inside, and the air feels heavier, hotter. every step deliberate, like he owns the floor you’re standing on. “sure thing, doll,” he mutters, and there it is. that tiny flicker in your chest that makes you want to melt right where you stand.
you lead him to the kitchen, biting your lip because even walking near him is… something. he follows, slow, silent, taking in the sight of you like you’re the main course at a five-star restaurant.
“show me where it’s leakin' ,” he says, voice teasing and rough.
you step near the broken pipe, trying not to tremble. “here…” you say, pointing, heart beating so fuckin' loud because he’s right behind you now. so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, the subtle weight of his body leaning closer than it needs to be.
he hums low, brushing past your ear in a way that sends shivers down your spine. “huh… looks like trouble, huh?”
his hand almost grazes your ass, just light enough to let you know he’s testing the waters. testing you.
you bite your lip, trying to focus on the pipe instead of the way his body presses against yours. “yeah… it is.”
the kitchen faucet dripped like a metronome counting down to something. you shifted your weight, maybe a weak attempt of brushing him off. but his hips rolled forward, deliberate and slow, grinding the rigid line of his jeans against your ass.
you didn’t move. couldn’t.
the rough denim dragged against the thin fabric of your leggings with each thrust. his calloused hand slid along your waist, fingers splaying possessively over your belly as he pressed closer.
“I'll help you, yeah,” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear. you flinched, but his hips kept rolling in slow, grinding circles, friction building with every thrust. your literally stopped breathing when his other hand braced against the countertop, caging you in.
“you married, doll?” he asked, voice rough as gravel.
you nodded, swallowing hard. “y-yes.”
his low chuckle vibrated against your spine. “what a fuckin’ waste.” his palm slid down to grip your hip, pulling you harder against him. “where’s he at?”
“w-work,” you breathed out, arching back without meaning to.
“perfect,” he growled, grinding harder now, his zipper teeth catching your thin pants. you felt his free hand fumble between your bodies, heard the rasp of his fly yanking down just far enough.
he didn’t warn you. just hooked both thumbs under the waistband of your pants and tore them apart with a sharp, brutal rip. the sound, like the fabric is screaming, echoed off the tiles.
cold air hit your skin a second before his cock, which is hot, thick and already weeping at the tip, slid against your ass and his rough palms slapped against your ass cheeks, spreading you wide open.
he hooked one hand under your knee, yanking your leg up onto the counter beside the sink with brute power. your balance faltered, fingers scrabbling against the wet porcelain as he spread you wide open, his free hand clamping hard on your hip to hold you steady.
"stay still f'me, doll... lemme use you for a bit," he grunted, voice thick and strained.
he didn't ask permission; just rocked his hips forward, the blunt head of his cock dragging slick through your folds. a choked gasp tore from your throat, not fear, not protest, but raw, involuntary response to the sudden, shocking friction.
his cock slid against your clit with deliberate pressure, dragging a ragged moan from your throat. "feels good, yeah?"
Toji rasped, hips rolling in a filthy grind that made your thighs tremble. "does that cheatin' pussy feel good rubbin' on me?"
you arched back instinctively, meeting his thrusts, your hips moving in small, desperate circles against his hardness.
"y-yes," you gasped, the admission torn from you as his blunt tip caught your entrance, teasing. he rolled his hips harder, grinding the thick ridge of his cock along your soaked slit.
"bet that husband of yours ain't home much, huh?" his voice was a low rumble against your ear, his breath hot and damp. "busy man? leaves this pretty pussy sittin' empty?"
you whimpered, own hips rocking back against him, chasing the delicious friction.
when you didn't reply, he gave a punishing thrust to your folds. "words, doll."
"s-sometimes," you gasped, the words spilling out. "he works late... a lot."
Toji snorted, a harsh, derisive sound.
"tch. what a fuckin' jerk." his hand tightened on your hip, fingers digging in as he pressed his tip firmly against your entrance, not pushing in yet, just applying pressure.
"got a cunt like this at home," he growled, grinding slow, "and he's out chasin' paychecks? pathetic."
he kept humping you, thick cockhead slicking through your folds like he owned your pussy. "bet he don't do this to you, huh? don't even know how to use a pussy this good..."
you whimpered agreement, hips circling back against him, shameless now, grinding your puffy folds against his shaft.
"n-no," you gasped, the truth spilling out hot and needy. "he... he doesn't touch me much."
Toji's low chuckle vibrated through your spine. "fuckin' idiot. got this sweet cunt right here," his hand slid down, rough fingers spreading your pussy lips open wide against his cock, "beggin' to be used, and he ignores it?"
he spat the words like they tasted bad. "waste of a good fuckhole."
Toji’s fingers dug into your hip, forcing your rhythm to match his slow, filthy grind. "so tell me," he rasped, the head of his cock catching your clit with each upward thrust, making your knees buckle,
"needy cunt feel good spreadin’ on my dick? feel good gettin’ slicked up while your man’s out working his ass off?"
you moaned, loud and shameless, hips rolling back to take more of that thick heat. "y-yes. . .nghhh. .," you gasped, the word cracking open. "feels so good—"
"such a whore," he growled, the blunt head of his cock dragging hard through your folds, bumping against your clit before grinding back down to your entrance. "look at this greedy hole. openin’ up for me already."
you were pushing back against him, wetness smearing sticky across his shaft. "please," you breathed, not even sure what you were begging for.
"that so?" he pulled back for a bit and spread your cheeks wide with both palms, exposing you completely, wet and glistening, clit swollen tight under his gaze. "look at that," he grunted, slapping his cock hard against your soaked folds. It burned with each slap, sharp sparks of pleasure-pain making you cry out.
you arched, pushing back against him, moans spilling out unchecked as his dick smeared your wetness everywhere, over your ass, your thighs.
"fuckin' hell," he growled, grinding the head against your hole so hard your knees shook. his palm cracked down on your ass cheek, sharp and stinging, as he forced your thighs wider. "stay fuckin' still," Toji snarled, grinding the thick head over your spread pussy, up and down to your hole again and again.
"got a condom?" he demanded, hips jerking in rough, shallow thrusts that left you gasping.
you shook your head frantically, cheeks red. "n-no... I don't..."
"for fuck's sake," he cursed, low and vicious. grip tightenening on your hips, holding you in place as he rutted against your slit, tip catching your clit with each brutal pass. "gonna cum on this pretty cunt then. spread for me, doll."
you arched your back, hips lifting off the counter’s edge, presenting yourself shamelessly.
"spread it," Toji commanded, voice thick and ragged. "show me that hungry hole."
trembling, you reached back with one hand, fingers sinking into your own slick folds to pull yourself open, exposing the swollen, shining wetness, the desperate bud throbbing under his gaze. he groaned, cock pulsing in his fist as he aimed it at your spread cunt. "just like that, baby."
the first thick rope hit your cunt like molten wax, searing hot and sudden. you cried out, thighs jerking as the shock of it, the sheer heat, unlocked something primal.
Toji grunted, his cock pulsing violently in his hand, painting your spread-open pussy in creamy stripes. each spurt landed with a wet slap, across your folds, up your inner thighs, pooling thick and sticky where your fingers still held you open. the last hot stripe splattered across, thick and viscous. Toji grunted, his cock jerking in his fist as he milked the final drops onto your folds.
you stayed like that, trembling, feeling the heat bloom across your skin, so different from the barrier of your husband’s condoms. this was raw, primal and real.
the scent hit you first, salt and musk and something deeply male, sinking into your pores. could feel the heat of his cum seep into your folds where your fingers still held you open.
a choked sob escaped you, not regret, but raw relief. this. this feeling of claiming was what you'd craved during all those silent nights waiting for a man who treated your body like a chore to be done with.
his low groan vibrated against your spine as he smeared his release deeper with two rough fingers, working it into your swollen lips.
"fuckin' soaked now, ain't ya?" he rasped. "that husband of yours never leaves you messy like this?"
you shook your head, panting, too overwhelmed to speak. he was right. your so called husband kept everything tidy, distant and safe. this was danger. this was alive.
his fingers worked deeper, smearing his cum into your wetness until the mixture dripped down your inner thighs. "look at that," Toji grunted, dragging a thick glob along your slit with his thumb. "little fuckhole’s suckin’ it right up. like it’s starved."
you shuddered, biting back a moan as his touch lingered on your swollen clit. he didn’t know your name. you didn’t know his. yet here you were, letting this stranger paint your cunt with his seed, your husband’s ring a cold weight on your knuckles as you spread yourself wider for him.
Toji licked his lips, thumb circling your swollen entrance, playing with the mess he made. "man’s got a cunt this desperate sittin’ at home." he slapped on the mess, making you whine. "should be fuckin’ you senseless every night. stuffin’ you full."
you whined again, pushing back against his hand. his rough palm cracked down on your ass, once, twice, the sharp sting making you gasp.
"quit squirmin', slut. let me see it soak in."
he watched, as your pulse fluttered under the sticky glaze. your hips trembled. not from shame. from hunger. then Toji pulled back suddenly, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans with a rough zip.
"you can close your legs, doll. I'm done using it," he ordered, voice flat as he wiped his sticky fingers on your discarded pants.
you lowered your trembling leg from the counter, the sudden shift making your thighs ache as you tried to stand straight. "wha... what about the p-pipe?" you stammered, gesturing weakly at the leak, your skin tacky with drying cum.
he glanced at his watch, strapped to his thick wrist. "can't. got another work across town."
turning, he grabbed his toolbox, the metal clanking like a threat. you shivered, exposed and dripping as he stepped close again, his shadow swallowing you whole. his breath sour against your ear when he leaned in, lips brushing your lobe.
"tell you what," he murmured, low enough to raise goosebumps on your neck. "I'll swing by later. at 11. when that husband of yours is snorin'."
you stand there trembling, bare from the waist down, his cum cooling in sticky trails down your thighs, looking up at him, a flicker of hope shining in your damp eyes.
“tonight,” he repeats, not a question but a command, his eyes raking over your exposed skin one last time.
