my love for naoya is so confusing. i dont support his misogynistic morals and i am very much a feminist, but at the same time.... i'd let him degrade me. like i need that dih HARD.
Synopsis- You tell your fuck buddy Toji you wanna try something new and crazy (sexually) but he comes up with absolute bullshit that you would've never guessed.
Warnings- HardDom!Toji, Camgirl!reader, Psychological exhibition(Pseudo-exhibition), sex on stream, clit play, edging, humiliation, orgasm denial, rough sex, slight praise kink, verbal degradation, sensory deprivation, blindfold, handcuffs, fingering, overstimulation, au (no curses), exhibitionism, pet names, claiming.
AC-RocnirWarrior
Word Count- 1.4k
A cold breeze blows harshly against your naked skin. You hear the rushed sound of the city and chirping of birds, so distinctly. Are you outside? Where the fuck has Toji brought you. What the fuck is he planning? Your mind is racing.
Nothing but empty darkness surrounds you. At least that's how it looks. You’re blindfolded, with your arms bound by cold handcuffs, clenching your wrists. Sitting on the cold seat of a chair pressed against you. Tilting with every gust of wind.
You can tell you are balancing on something. Your senses feel like they're incredibly heightened. You’re taking in every sensation down to a chemical level. Hyper aware of everything around you.
Every feeling, every smell is potent. You’re completely at Toji’s mercy. You told him you wanted to try something spontaneous, this wasn’t what you had in mind at all.
But you will admit… This feeling of risk is enthralling. Your heart is beating so fast. It too is trying to process this inebriating moment.
“T-Toji…Where the fuck a-are we??”
“Shhh..Stop shaking. You don't wanna fall, do you?”
This is nothing but fun for him. Taunting you that is. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
You’re so scared you might fall, you don't want to move an inch. But maybe you’re daring enough to test him. You lift up your foot slowly. Your heart feels like it will pop out of your chest. You accidentally kick him.
Big fucking mistake.
“Oh- Was that-” Interrupting you, he grabs and jerks your leg aggressively. Shaking you and the chair. “Be careful. I could drop you right now and not give a fuck after.” He says sternly.
You can’t see him. But you can tell he’s not joking anymore. “Please just answer me at least...” You ask but you know he won’t. He likes seeing you bend at his will. The way you obey his every word. That's why you’re his favorite toy. You just can’t get enough of him.
Suddenly you hear the high pitch chime of a stream starting. “Look how amazing she looks guys.” There is no way he's doing what you think he is. You scoff in disbelief.
“Haa- Toji.. what the fuck are you doing...?”
You can feel him breathing against your ear. Taking in the sound his lips parting as he smiles and whispers,
“I’m only doing what you asked for, doll. We’re gonna put on an amazing show.”
That rich, slick, seductive tone of his. That, along with the position you’re in sends a shiver through you. You feel an internal heat as your heart drops. But this feeling isn't fear… No, it's something far from it. A dark, perverse sense of pleasure. So, why not give them a show?
His thick fingers trail up your thigh. Pressing down and gripping your skin as he spreads your legs. Blowing against your skin to mess with your sensory perception. Toying with you.
He grazes his fingers up the slit of your pussy. Making sure the camera catches every second of this. You’re dripping just from the rush of being with him.
“She’s already so excited, guys. What a slut you are.”
He’s smirking with every word. Not that you can see it though. You just know it.
He traces slow controlled circles around your clit. Creating a pestering wave of warmth building in your sweet spot. “Nnghh…” A moan escapes your lips as he plays with your begging clit. Further igniting whatever flame you’ve sparked in this man.
His fingers slip into you with a heavy stroke. Thrusting in and out of you and curving his fingers upwards so they hit your sweet spot perfectly.
He wants to hear those pretty moans of yours. That begging is what he craves oh so much.
“Tsk… You better quiet down before someone hears you and comes looking.”
Laughing as he finger fucks you without pity. The feeling of his fingers going in out of you feels so good, you almost forgot where you were. As if you even know. All you have is an assumption.
“Ugnhh…Fuuck..”
You instinctively try to cover your mouth forgetting that your hands are secured.
“Haha.. How pathetic. Awww poor baby.”
He laughs as you squirm under his control. You're trying to contain your moans with no real hope of succeeding.
How can someone be so alluring yet so callous and calculating? But you can’t help it... You love the way he bends you at his will. You’ve never felt more alive than at this moment.
“Toji- Ngnhh...”
You feel a heavy pressure swelling inside of you, spreading all over your body. He stops as soon as you’re about to cum. Like he knows just from the way your pussy clenches.
“You don’t get to cum until I say so”
This man is a tyrant. He’s indirectly controlling your every move and you love it.
His fingers start picking up pace. Being sucked in and out of your sopping pussy. You can hear the constant notification chime of more views and gifts from the stream. Reminding you that you have thousands of eyes captivated and fixed on you.
“All these people watching. All here for you… My perfect girl.”
The thought of his words and being watched like this. The way your body is being pushed to the brink of ecstasy every second. This rush of adrenaline and pleasure. This feeling is intoxicating. Suffocating in the best way.
Out of pure desperation you start grinding your hips along his fingers. “T-Toji…Pleeeaase…” Begging him for something he will only give you on his terms.
“Mhmm that's what I like to hear. One more time for our lovely viewer, then maybe I'll let you cum.”
“M’leeeaase… I’m beggiing you…”
Without warning his fingers slip out of you. The recognition of the bleak sound of traffic and notifications snaps you back to reality. Panting as your body adjusts to this lack of stimulation.
“I love how hard you’re trying for me.”
Did you genuinely think he’d let you finish so easily?
You hear him walk away so you take the moment to catch your breath. Suddenly you feel his hands scooping you. Carrying you with ease.
“This is what you wanted right?”
He rubs his leaking and throbbing tip on your clit. Making you jerk. Your body feels increasingly more sensitive than before. “Mmmf..” Suddenly, he rams his thick, rigid cock into you. A shallow gasp breaks out of you. “Fuck…” he groans as he plumits into your tight pussy.
You can feel his cock pulsing with every deep stroke. Hitting every sweet part of your walls and making you clench tighter around him. You start grabbing at the air reflexively as he fucks mindless. The same way you’d clench the bed sheets when he’s inside you.
“Now tell the people who you belong to.”
“Mgnhh…T-oji..”
“Good girl…”
He slams you down on his cock. Brushing your bobbing cervix. His thumb softly massages your puffy clit methodically. “Haa…so good..” You moan. It's like every sound you make is an airborne aphrodisiac for him. You can tell he’s losing control.
His cock feels like it's getting stiffer inside of you. Pulsing with every glide. Sending strikes of bliss through you. Your body is trembling as your moans fill the space. Your hips jerk with every motion.
“Go ahead and cum for me baby.”
The lovely magic words.
His raspy breath is quickening along with his strokes. The moans coming out of him are like a drug. The sound of his hips smacking against yours is getting so much louder as he pounds. It feels like it's echoing. You can feel every twitch coming from his thick cock.
Your head whips back as your muscles strain and tense up. You feel yourself hyperventilating. Every single sound you’ve heard up until this point feels muffled.
A wave of pure euphoria washes over you. Finally cumming all over his cock as he pours into you. Your mind feels so cloudy and your body feels more than weak.
His thrusts are getting disorganized while his grip on you tightens. You can feel his hot cum leaking out as he fucks you sloppily.
“Let me see that pretty face of yours…”
He finally removes your blindfold. Your eyes flutter, painfully trying to adapt to the harsh light. As your vision focuses you realize… There's no city traffic, no birds, no real wind. You’re not outside at all. You’re in his damn basement. With his computer and a big ass fan acting as “the outside”.
Your eyes widen.
“What. the. fuc--”
He rams into you with a smirk as big as his ego. Flicking his head back.
Content warning, spanking, licking, groping. Toji is a lil weirdo. We know this. Uhhh banging. Dih riding. Not really gender specific. He a lil mean. Masterlist!!
Ass or Tits?
Toji's gonna pick ass. Every. Damn. Time. Is it even really a debate at this point? The man loves a good ass. First time he saw you in those tight jeans wrapping around your hips and your curves everytime you took a step. He knew you were meant to be his.
Its not like he tried to hide it, mind you. Anyone with 2 eyes could see the ways his gaze would wander towards your lower half. You could feel his wandering stare every time you walked into a room. It's why you start swaying your hips and a little more. Bending over a little extra to pick up whatever pen you dropped this time. A part of you knows it creepy of him to watch. And yet another part of you hopes he is.
When you 2 are just lounging at home, hes grabbing that shit whenever he can. Squeezing and massaging whenever he has the chance. Swatting your hand away with a grunt whenever you tried to stop him.
"M' not gonna do anything else ma. 5 more minutes."
Of course thats a another lie. As his hands travel futher up your body, bruising your waist as he slowly sends kisses up your neck.
Mid fuck. He's spanking your ass just for fun. Says he likes watching it go red as you ride his dick. Mumbling something about being tired as he lifts your hips to more his rhythm.
Your not gonna sleep tonight.
Giving or receiving?
Now as much as he loves watching you ride his cock till morning. Babbling about how much you can't take it. And you need a break. And all that other nonsense Toji doesn't really pay attention to.
He prefers being in control. Deciding how much pleasure hes gonna make you take a he eats you out like a starved man.
Watching you unravel beneath him as he places his fingers on your clit. Tounge lapping up your juices as you cry out his name.
When he feels you inching away from his mouth you best believe he's dragging you right back. Landing a firm *slap!* on your pussy as a warning.
"Try that dumb shit again and see what happens."
Didn't shave?
Toji's a grown ass man, he doesn't care how tick that bush is. He'll fucking braid it if it means he gets to eat you out same day same time.
Sometimes he prefers when you don't shave. He kinda likes the feeling of it across his face. He's a freak. But you know this, so just enjoy the ride.
Its not like he's ever gonna shave. That's why to much hassle. So why should you? Besides. He's not a very patient man. So you telling his you can't fuck because you haven't shaved. Isn't an option.
Hell, if your down periods aren't really a big deal to him either. Just say the word and he'll have you spread eagle, dick practically bruising your cervix. All you have is some towel and a dream. Best believe Toji's not gonna turn his favourite girl down for anything. And he's not talking about you.
You wanna turn the lights off cause your shy? No way. How else is he gonna see his dick poking out your stomach? Drool hanging from the side of your jaw.
Your embarrassment is almost his favourite part.
Teasing. God, he's such an Ass.
Because Toji doesn't tease. He bullies.
We already know this man doesn't have a single patient bone in his body. So why should he hold back because you decided to be a brat today? Shamelessly flirting with that waiter who clearly gave you an up-down when you two first walked in the restaurant. Smiling like an idiot as he hands you both the menus.
Of course. Just bwfore you both went out. Toji was being an idiot and created another argument. You were mad he had been coming home late. And he then proceeded to tell you to "chill the fuck out."
So now you're both in a mood. Unable to cancel the dinner because Toji is a cheapskate and this was all reserved with a heafty deposit. You're mad and therefore won't talk to him, and he's upset you won't talk to him! The mood was already soured before Toji caught you smilling so damn sweetly at the boy. Fluttering your eyelashes and laughing at whatever dumb joke he had to say about the menu.
It wasnt funny. You know it. Toji knows it! So why the fuck are you laughing and giving this extra attention he should he getting!?
To bad for you. Toji is a man of few words and fucks to give. Hes groping you the whole time you say your order under the table. Letting a when the kid finally asked if you were okay as you let out a breathy yes.
When you both got home, you tried to mout off, but he pinned you down the moment you took you shoes off. Head first om the couch with your ass up.
Hes spanking it red while shoving his big ass dick in there like theres no tomorrow. Balls slapping your asshole as he sneakily slides his thumb in there. Applying more pressure when he feels you get closer.
Though your shaky breaths he catches some parts of what you try to say. And ignores the rest. Something Something please. Something Something sorry. Yadayadayda.
Maybe next next time you'll think twice before tryna make him jealous. He's not gonna stop until you squirt on his face atleast 5 times, begging for his cock like the needy brat he knows you are.
Dates.
Toji not gonna do that shit. He's not even the romantic type. Your the first real relationship hes had that he didn't wanna ditch as soon as it got too serious. Planning dates. Remembering anniversaries. He's not your guy. Hell, the man doesn't even pay you rent.
When you guys do go out. He's glued to your side. Holding your waist as you walk. Putting his hand in your back pocket, no matter how many times you tell him off. Wiping his thumb on your mouth to lick off whatever food you hadn't got in your mouth.
His dick is pretty much all hes good for. Need someone to fuck you all night long? Make you forget whatever shitty ex your crying about this time and ride that dick till sunrise. Afterwards he'll run you a bath, add some of those bath bombs he knows you like and massage your scalp while you relax.
He needs his girl in tiptop shape after all.
Your stuck with him till one of you croak. And it damn sure ain't gonna be him.
tojis shy wife asking him if they can have a baby ♡
a/n: this is such a boring fic but whatever idc
youve been following him around the house for almost an hour.
soft little footsteps behind him while he moves from room to room, arms sneaking around his waist the second he stops moving long enough, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades while hes trying to do literally anything.
toji notices immediately.
hed noticed every extra second youve spent touching him today, every shy look, every time you open your mouth like youre gonna say something and then dont.
right now hes standing at the kitchen counter trying to pour himself a drink while you cling to his back like a sleepy cat, arms wrapped around his middle.
his hand settles over yours automatically.
"…you need somethin?" he mutters.
you shake your head against him.
"yeah?" he says, rough and unconvinced. "baby. then why you stuck t'me like glue?"
your grip tightens a little at that, face warming instantly when he glances back over his shoulder at you. you just go quiet again.
he sighs softly through his nose, setting the glass down before turning around fully, hands landing on your waist as he looks down at you properly.
"cmon," he mutters. "spit it out."
you hesitate so long he almost thinks you changed your mind, eyes dropping away from his while your fingers curl into the front of his shirt.
"…dont get mad" you mumble
his brows pull together immediately. "the hell would I get mad for?"
you dont answer, just stand there all shy and sweet, practically folded into his chest, and he can physically see you trying to work up the courage to say whatevers been sitting in your head.
"…can we have a baby?"
toji goes quiet, the question catches him off guard harder than he expected. his hands stay warm on your waist while he looks down at you, brows pulling together slightly as he thinks about it, thumb rubbing slow against your side without him realizing.
"..baby." he mutters after a second, voice gentler now. "thats a real big question."
you immediately look nervous after that, eyes dropping away while your fingers twist lightly in his shirt.
"..i know.." you say quietly.
the way you say it all shy and careful, like youre worried he will shut you down completely, like youve been holding this in your chest all night.
then you look back up at him with big eyes, a soft expression on your face. hopeful in that sweet little way that always gets him. toji exhales hard through his nose, one hand sliding from your waist up your back before he pulls you closer against him.
"…cmere," he mutters, almost like hes buying himself time.
you melt right into him immediately, arms tightening around his middle, and he rests his chin briefly against the top of your head while he thinks.
"…maybe." he says finally, low and rough.
your whole face brightens so fast it nearly makes him laugh. "maybe?" you ask softly. he glances down at you, already losing the fight seeing that look on your face.
"…yea." he mutters, thumb brushing along your waist. "maybe, sweet girl."
babydaddy!toji shows up at your door on megumi's birthday ⋆ ᨳଓ︎ ˚｡⋆
w.c. 3035
nsfw contents. minors dni
"shoko, hi, it's nice to see you! come on in!" you smiled, opening the door to greet your guests. megumi held onto your hand tightly, exclaiming once he saw his classmate standing in the doorway.
the living room and kitchen were decorated with tablecloths, balloons, a themed banner on the wall, and an assortment of food was prepared on the table.
it was a little pricey and maybe over the top for you to pay for and organize all by yourself, but your son only turned 3 once, after all. happy 3rd birthday megumi! was painted in bold blue letters on the banner alongside a drawing of a dinosaur from his favorite cartoon.
you and shoko joined the other parents in the living room as the children played with bouncy balls and chased each other, giggling loudly.
"so, how are things?" shoko asked. you'd planned on sticking to her side for most of the party, as you didn't know many of megumi's classmates' parents very well.
"oh, you know, things are pretty good at work, no complaints." you replied casually, sipping your cup of lemonade.
"oh come on." she gave you a look.
"what?"
"so you're telling me everything is just fine with megumi all on your own while toji's out there doing god knows what instead of getting his act together and being a father to his child?" jeez. shoko really knew how to give it to you straight. you paused, giving it some thought. "honestly sho, i don't really care all that much anymore. it's hard sometimes having to work extra and all that, but honestly, i'd rather do it alone than do it and have him around and have to worry him all the time."
"hm. i see. you miss him at all?" she asked, putting together a plate for her daughter.
"pssshh, besides that mind-blowing sex, i don't miss him for shit."
"gross.”
after about an hour and a half shoko left early with her daughter for soccer lessons. you abandoned your plans of trying to make friends with the other parents - you knew your efforts would be futile. you sat in the kitchen as you called megumi over to you, replacing your place in the chair with him for everyone to sing happy birthday.
you watched megumi through your phone, filming as he looked at the room curiously before blowing out the candles and smiling at the camera.
once the cake was passed out, everyone was back to their conversations and the children to their coloring sheets and games of tag.
just then, there was a knock at the front door. who could it be this late into the party? you passed the living room and entered the foyer before looking through the peephole.
toji fushiguro.
what the fuck was your (unofficially) ex-husband, the one who ran away like some sort of coward just a year after your son was born, doing here? you wondered with wide eyes and a suddenly racing heartbeat. should you even open the door? he'd better not cause a scene or be asking for money.
the memories flashed back in your head. he'd been coming home at obscene hours, sometimes not even returning until the next afternoon for about two weeks, claiming it was for work or he was out with his friends. when one morning you woke up to him gone with only a note scrawled in messy, rushed handwriting left on the kitchen counter, you knew. it was hard enough with megumi still needing your attention at all times, but calling or texting wouldn't do anything: he wouldn't be coming back.
you opened the door slowly, only enough so your face could poke out.
"party's not over, is it?" he asked with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a white gift bag hanging from one hand. most of his appearance was the same, even his clothes. from the outside, he looked the same as when he first left you and megumi. you weren't counting on his shifty personality to have changed, though.
"what are you doing here?" you scoffed, opening the door fully. making direct eye contact after all this time was uncomfortable. you hadn't looked into his eyes with love long ago, even before he had left. one of the only pictures left of him in your camera roll was of him holding newborn megumi at the hospital.
"'m just here for my little boy. i can see him, can't i? c'mon, ma, it's the kid's birthday. can i come in? please?" he remarked, uncrossing his arms. his little boy, bullshit, you thought.
your thoughts stopped for a moment. megumi did ask you often where daddy was, what he was doing, if he'd be coming back any time soon. you had tried your best to answer his questions without upsetting him, but those conversations often ended with tears running down his chubby cheeks.
so surely it wouldn't hurt for megumi to get to see his dad for at least a few hours? but what about the disappointment when he leaves and takes off again for god knows how long? you'd deal with that later, for now you just wanted your son to have a nice birthday party - what better than for both of his parents to be celebrating him.. right?
"wait here," you muttered, avoiding meeting his eyes as much as possible, closing the door while he chuckled to himself.
doing your best to muster up a smile for your child, you squatted down to megumi's eye level. "gumi, come here, mommy has a surprise for you!" you reached out to your son, hoisting him up onto your waist before walking back to the entryway.
you opened the door back up, watching his face as his bubbly eyes lit up at the sight of his dad.
"daddy!" megumi exclaimed, nearly jumping from your arms onto the ground, lifting his own up for toji to raise him into the air.
"hey, little man, long time no see." he lowered megumi down, holding him to his chest. "so, whad'ya say? can i come in?" he requested.
you rolled your eyes, he was as cocky as ever. uncrossing your arms this time, you sighed defeatedly. megumi was probably happier now than he had ever been in his life; he had missed his dad a lot. "yeah, okay." you murmured.
megumi took your husband by the hand, bouncing up and down as he ran to his room show his dad all his toys.
"bye! see you next week!" you waved as your last guests exited, closing the door.
you took a deep breath. the house wasn't exactly a mess, but it was still a lot to tackle after being drained from socializing so much. megumi was watching his show as usual on the couch, his giggles floating into the kitchen every few minutes.
you started with the kitchen, putting leftovers into tupperware and throwing out dishes that weren't worth saving. soon, the dishes were piled in the sink, but you'd tackle those after picking up the living room first. crayons were put back into their boxes and half-empty juice boxes were thrown away.
the tap ran warm water on your hands as you started the dishes, but you were interrupted by footsteps coming from the bathroom.
"you're still here," you spoke softly, scrubbing a stain away from a plate. toji leaned against the counter next to you. "well, the little one wanted me to stay so badly, so,"
"mhm," you hummed, about to pick up a towel and start drying the dishes, but he had already beat you to it. "what're you doing?" you puzzled. god, it was so annoying how he thought he could just walk right in and start acting like everything about this was normal. nothing was normal about this, and the two of you knew it.
"what, i can't help out a little?" he queried, shrugging as he wiped water droplets off the rim of a glass. "you need something from me, don't you?" you placed the sponge back into its holder.
"look, doll, i just came to pay you both a visit. which is what i'm doing. to be honest, thought you'd be a little more excited to see me. 've turned things around and everything." he chuckled, hanging the dish cloth over his shoulder. he acted so casually for a man who had left his wife and kid by themselves for the past two years.
"is that so?"
"yup, paid back everyone i owed shit to, got a proper job. even quit gambling! surely you're at least a little proud of me, aren'tya?" he smirked, opening cabinets cluelessly trying to figure out where to put the plates.
"over here," you opened a cabinet door behind you. he towered over you, his cologne lingering in your nose as clinking sounds emerged from above. "so that's what you've spent all this time doing? and yeah, that's good for you." you cursed yourself for ogling at his sculpted biceps, but you could barely help it. he had clearly spent some time in the gym on top of all that, too.
there was a moment of silence before it was broken again. toji now stood across from you. "so, you been getting by okay without me?"
"things are fine around here toji, i don't need your help."
"easy, ma. i just meant you haven't, y'know, missed me or anything? haven't got yourself a little boyfriend?" he hummed. oh my god he was so aggravating.
"what, are you hoping i'll say no?"
"sounds like a yes to missing me," he stepped closer.
"shut up."
"make me." closer. his face was now only inches from yours, you could practically hear your heartbeat bounce off the walls.
in an instant, you pulled his face to yours, your lips colliding together as he held your face in his hands.
"we can't," you pulled away. "our son is sitting right there."
"so put him down," he nodded. "he's practically half asleep."
you glanced over your shoulder. megumi was drifting off to sleep, his eyelids droopy. quietly, you picked him up, soothing his whines. toji followed you closely into his room, watching as you laid him down into his bed.
toji closed the door behind you, standing across from you in the narrow hallway. the tension between you and him was palpable. he ran the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, feeling the soft skin with his finger. your breath hitched and your body tensed.
"what, you nervous?" he grinned. he knew just how to piss you off and turn you on at the same time. it wasn't usual of you to let go of control this suddenly, you knew that. but just as soon as you were thinking it, the next moment you were kissing him again.
his hands ran down your torso, snaking around your waist as his teeth grazed your bottom lip. your hips desperately grinded against his as his kisses grew deeper.
"toji— bedroom.." you whined; his fingers pressed into your hips as he wasted no time picking you up and throwing you his shoulder, his rough hand rubbing at your back and over the curve of your ass as he walked toward your once-shared room.
he couldn't even hold back long enough to even get you to the bed, instead you found yourself laying on the carpet, your cheek pressing against the floor. toji turned your face to make you face him, kissing your neck and palming your tits while his knee spread your thighs apart.
your body grew hotter the further down his hands traveled. "fuck, missed this pretty body of yours, doll." he unzips your jeans, pulling them down along with your soaked panties.
before long, he's made out with you and played with your tits for a painful amount of time, leaving your bare pussy all wet and needy, clenching around nothing. you start grinding against him again, moaning as his clothed bulge presses against your clit.
"toji, please, i need you, want you to fuck me," you pleaded, bringing his face to yours again, letting his tongue explore your mouth in hopes of getting him to touch you where you sought it the most.
"slow down, ma, gotta get you ready first," he answered, retreating from your mouth and pressing wet kisses to your inner thighs. it was torture how much he teased, especially after not touching you for so long.
his mouth hovered over your pussy before he delved in, licking all over your opening and clit. the pleasure was indescribable, and you instinctively arched your back, pressing your hips into his face. "shit—! toji.." you hissed, feeling his tongue deeper inside you as your muscles tensed underneath him. but toji wouldn't let you take what you wanted. he'd only let you have what he gave you.
"fuckin' hell, quit squirming, would ya?" he muttered, caging his strong arms around your waist. he pressed your lower back down to the floor, his eyes not leaving your gaze. you moaned loudly as you felt his tongue spreading your wet folds apart.
fighting the urge to press yourself against his face again felt like torture, especially now that he had freed one arm to rub your throbbing clit as he ate you out. he groaned into your sex, his arms holding you down tightly.
everything about this felt so wrong. you never expected toji to come back, let alone have you spread out on the floor within three hours of reuniting. but at this point you were too lost in the pleasure to even think straight; he knew how to eat you out just right!
"feels good, doesn't it? bet you didn't get to cum properly while i was away, hm? know you want to, princess, go on," his tongue curled inside you, hitting that spongy spot that always left you wanting more.
"fuck, toji, i'm cummingg..!" you cried, forming a puddle of your cum on his mouth and drips of it running down his chin.
pleasure radiated through your body as your head dug into the floor. he didn't stop there, though, he never did. his middle and ring fingers started teasing your entrance before pushing past your lips, making you gasp. he gave you a few, slow thrusts and then pulled out, leaving you whining at the emptiness. "on your knees." he commanded.
with a tired groan, you turned over, supporting your weight with your arms as you showed off your bare ass to him. toji quickly unzipped his pants, tugging his boxers off along with his sweatpants.
his cock sprang out from his underwear, his tip all swollen and leaking with precum. he brang his hand closer to his mouth, spitting into it and wrapping it around his length.
tantalizingly, he dragged himself up and down your slit, eventually pushing his tip past your soaked cunt. "mmmmghh— toji!!" you squealed, your hips jerking from the stretch.
"cock too big for you, big girl? mm, that's too bad, isn't it?" he drawled, his hold on your hips tight as he moaned whilst bottoming out inside you. "ohmygodfuckyou'resodeep, toji, hahh— ssshiiit!" you moaned desperately, fingers holding onto nothing as tears burned at your eyes. he was fucking huge. maybe even bigger than you'd remembered.
toji, impatient as ever, didn't give you long to adjust to his girth, his tip brushing your cervix with every thrust. you could probably cum from just this and he knew it, your milky white insides clenching around him.
"taking me so well, doll, fuck," he smirked. his hips slammed hard into your ass as he continued ruthlessly burying his cock inside you.
the sight of your ass bouncing with every thrust was addictive. your skin brushed against his again, and he planted a slap on your ass. he drove into you faster.
your arms began to feel like jello as he brought you closer to another orgasm. his dick touched all the right spots and you had to smack your hand over your mouth to muffle your lewd whines.
slowly, the tight feeling in your stomach grows, and you're wishing he'd slow down even just a bit. but at the same time, you're pushing your behind back into his pelvis, your greedy pussy sucking him in tighter as you rode him while he was already fucking you. "baby.. mmmmmff— yeah, right there.." you babbled, planting your face in your hands.
to have him calling you that again? toji didn't even know anymore. he'd missed you so much, missed you melting under his touch. "c'mon doll, cum all over this cock, it's okay, i got you," he came unannounced, like he'd been waiting to for his whole life, hot spurts of his cum filling you up.
pleasure crashed onto you, your release soaking his cock. the pistoning of his hips slowed, and you continued to ride out your orgasm as he leaned forward and pressed soft kisses to your back.
"so perfect, my beautiful girl," he breathed, helping you up off the floor and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, pulling you into another kiss. your arousal spilled onto his thighs, but it didn't matter. you finally split, the sound of the two of you panting bouncing off the walls.
you stepped out of the shower you had shared with toji, giggling as he wrapped you in a towel. you walked to your room, pulling his sweatpants off the floor and tossing them to him. you slid your shirt over your arms, then tiptoed to megumi's room. it was evident he had woken up not too long ago with his squinty eyes.
crawling into bed with megumi falling back asleep in your arms where toji had been waiting for you, things felt calm. the house was quiet, and you finally got to be held by the man you loved again. "so.." you whispered, quietly interrupting the silence.
"hm?" toji responded, bringing you closer to him as he did.
"be honest.. are you.. gonna stay?"
it was quiet again.
"yeah."
there was no need for more promises, or words, even. you knew he was here to stay this time.
a/n: thank you for all the support on my first fic!! this took me forever to write but hope you enjoyed!! i really like this one but i feel like the beginnings so cringe 💔 wtv i'm posting this
if Toji won’t give you attention…his cock sure will
cw: explicit smut, giving head, Toji giving you the silent treatment.
“Toji. I’m talking to you.”
Nothing.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you say angrily, “We were at a bar. Some guy asked if I wanted another drink while you were in the bathroom for five fucking minutes. I said no. That’s it. You’re acting like I sucked his dick in the alley.”
Still. Nothing. You laugh bitterly, “Wow. Real mature, Toji. That’s cute.” You try again—“Toji, come on. It was nothing. Can you please fucking talk to me.” Fucking nothing. His knuckles bleach white around the steering wheel. Eyes stay fixed on the road like you’re not even there. Fine.
By the time you’re through the front door he’s already shrugging off his jacket, kicking his boots toward the corner with more force than necessary, then heading straight for the couch like you’re invisible. He drops down, legs spread wide, arms crossed, staring at the blank TV screen.
You stand there in the living room doorway, arms folded tight across your chest, watching him sprawl on the couch. Toji doesn’t acknowledge you. Just sits there, legs manspread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his sweats with his arms crossed so hard the veins in his forearms stand out.
He can pretend all he wants, but his body clearly isn’t on board with the silent treatment. “Toji. Look at me.” Nothing.
You step closer. “I said look at me.” His eyes stay locked on the black TV screen. You laugh again, “Okay. So we’re doing this. You’re just gonna sit there like a pissed-off statue while I stand here talking to myself? Classy.” Still nothing. Fuck. This.
You kneel in front of him, pulling his sweats down. His cock springs free, heavy and flushed dark, the tip already slick. A bead of pre-cum slides down the shaft, “Ignoring me all night but still so hard,” you taunt.
His hips jerk forward once, involuntary, before he locks them in place like he’s punishing himself. Your hand wraps around the base and you give one slow, deliberate stroke upward, thumb dragging over the slick head on the way back down. His abs clench so hard the lines carve deeper into his stomach but he still doesn’t speak. Just keeps staring at that fucking blank TV.
You lean in closer, “Still nothing?” you murmur. “That’s fine. Your cock’s doing all the talking for you anyway.” You drag your tongue flat along the underside in one long, wet stripe. You take the head into your mouth and suck hard. Let your tongue swirl slow circles around the slit, tasting the salt of him. The veins in his forearms bulge as his fists tighten on his own biceps, arms still crossed like he’s physically holding himself back from touching you.
You pull off to look up at him doe-eyed. You lick your lips, let a thin string of spit connect you to the glistening head. “Still not gonna talk to me?” you ask sweetly. “Mmkayy, stay mad.” You pop your lips back around him.
Drool runs down your chin, soaking his balls. You’re making the grossest, prettiest sounds as you let him fuck your mouth. His hand shoots to the back of your head, fingers knotting in your hair as he pushes you down. “You think I’m mad because some fucker bought you a drink?”
He leans down until his mouth is a breath from yours. “I’m mad because you smiled at him.” he says thrusting into your mouth, “And I’m madder,” he growls, “because I wanted to break his fucking jaw for it. And I didn’t. Because I was trying to be good. For you.”
His grip tightens in your hair shoving you back down until your nose is pressed flush against his pelvis, throat stretched around him, eyes watering instantly. You gag, but he doesn’t let up. He holds you there letting you feel the full, heavy weight of him, “Make it good,” he mutters, “Show me how sorry you are.”
Oh and you do. You relax your throat as best you can, let him use it as spit drips in thick ropes down your chin. He groans, “Fuck—there. Just like that.” You double down. Letting him hear how wet it is, hands slide up his thighs, then cupping his balls and rolling them gently. He comes hard, flooding your throat until you have to swallow fast to keep up. He groans, hips jerking while you milk him with slow, gentle sucks until he’s twitching from overstimulation. Only then does he finally let you pull off.
You collapse forward, forehead resting against his thigh, panting, lips numb, your chin slick and throat very raw as he exhales roughly. “Get up here.”
You crawl into his lap on shaky legs. He pulls you close as his arms wrapping around you as his mouth finds your ear. “Next time,” he murmurs, “you shut it down before I even have to see it. Or I won’t be this nice about making you make it up to me.”
You nod against his neck, still catching your breath as he kisses the side of your head, “Good girl.”
✮ SEX EDUCATION: where your hot professor teaches you how to cum!
⋆ LESSON 1: GUIDANCE ON HOW TO TOUCH YOURSELF
you're on his lap, your back is pressed against his chest, your legs draped over his. "wider, baby." you spread, your skirt is bunched around your waist. your soaked panties are already on his desk. he made you take them off the moment you walked in, holding them up to the light and tsking at the wet spot.
"there," he says, satisfied. "now i can see everything." his hands grip the soft skin behind your knees and push your legs even further apart. you're completely open, completely exposed, your bare pussy on full display, glistening in the lamplight. you can feel the wetness pooling beneath you, soaking into his trousers, into his chair. "fuck, look at you. you're already dripping, good girl." you whimper and try to close your legs, but his grip tightens. "ah-ah. keep them open. this is a lesson, remember? you need to watch. you need to learn."
you force yourself to stay still, your pussy throbbing under his gaze. "touch yourself." you hesitate. your hand hovers over your own body, trembling. "i said touch yourself, baby. two fingers. start with your folds. feel how wet my good girl is." your hand moves. your fingers slide through your wetness, and the sensation makes you gasp. you're so wet that your fingers glide effortlessly, your own arousal coating them. "that's it. feel how wet you are? you've been thinking about it, haven't you, baby?" "yes," you whisper. "every night?" "yes, professor." "tell me what you did." "i—" your fingers are moving in slow circles around your clit now, and it's hard to think. "i touched myself. in bed. thinking about you." "good girl. show me how."
your middle finger sliding down to circle your entrance, then back up to your clit. "mmnh..." your hips buck against your own hand. "faster, baby."
you speed up. the wet sounds fill the room, your head falls back against his shoulder, and you feel his breath against your ear. "now two fingers inside, good girl. fill that pretty pussy for me." you slide them in, and the stretch makes you gasp. your walls clench around your own fingers, but it's not enough. it's never enough. you can feel how tight you are, how desperate. "that's it. fuck yourself on your fingers. imagine it's my cock, baby. imagine it's me splitting you open." "ah— ah— hnnggh! professor—" "look at you," he murmurs. "so desperate. such a good student, fucking herself on her own fingers. you'd take my cock just like that, wouldn't you? all desperate and whimpering." "yes! yes!" you're fucking yourself faster now, your hips lifting to meet your own hand. "that's my good girl, play with your clit now. use your thumb. circle it." your thumb finds your clit, and the it makes you cry out. you're so sensitive, so swollen, every touch sending sparks through your body.
"ah—hah! professor! i'm— i'm close—" "good. cum for me, baby. cum on your fingers like the good pretty girl you are." but something stops you, you're right there, teetering on the edge. your fingers pump desperately, your thumb rubs frantically, but you just can't. "i— i can't— nnghhh! " your voice breaks. "i can't without you, professor. please. please, i need your fingers. i need you."
his grip on your legs tightens so hard it might bruise. you can feel how hard he is against your lower back, his cock pressing into your spine. "if i touch you, baby, it's no longer for education. do you understand that? if i put my fingers inside this tight little pussy, it's because i want to. not because i'm teaching you. do you really want that?" "yes," you sob. "yes, i want that. i don't care. please! i don't care about the lesson... hah! i just want you—"
"say it again." "i want you to touch me. i want your fingers inside me. please, professor, please— i need you—" "that's all i needed to hear, babygirl." his fingers slide into you over yours. two of them — thick, massive. he pushes past your fingers, deeper, and the stretch is blinding. you scream, but his other hand clamps over your mouth, muffling it.
"shh, shh," he breathes in your ear, but he doesn't stop. his fingers move inside you with yours, fucking you open. "take it. take it all, baby." "mmmnnnghh! hir— nnnghh!" "that's it. feel how thick i am? feel how your pussy stretches around me? this is what you've been begging for, good girl." his fingers are so much bigger than yours. they fill you completely, pressing against your walls, curling exactly where you need them. and then his thumb finds your clit, presses down, circles. "fuck— ah!.. haaah— professor!"
your legs kick, but he holds them wide, keeps you open, keeps you taking it. you're sobbing against his hand, drool running down your chin, completely destroyed. "that's it. that's my good girl. you're going to cum on my fingers now. you're going to soak my hand, baby. say thank you." "th— thank you—" "louder." "thank you, sir!—"
your orgasm rips through you, your back arches, your head falls back against his shoulder, and you cum hard, your walls clenching around his fingers, your own fingers, everything. your vision whites out. a long, guttural moan tears from your throat as he works you through it, his thumb still circling your clit, his fingers still pumping, never stopping.
"fuck," he mutters, watching you fall apart. "that's it. that's it. good fucking girl. look at you cumming all over my hand. such a pretty sight." when you finally come down, you're shaking. your hand falls away, when he slowly withdraws his fingers, shiny with your cum, and brings them to his mouth. he sucks them clean, one by one, eyes never leaving yours. the sight makes your pussy clench again. "you're a fast learner, babygirl."
⋆ LESSON 2: LET HIM DROWN IN YOU!
his desk is cold against your bare ass. he's cleared it — pushed aside stacks of papers, a laptop, a mug of pens, some students' project folders — and lifted you onto it like you weigh nothing. your legs are spread wide, your heels resting on the edge, your pussy fully exposed and dripping, the papers beneath you are getting wet, but neither of you gives a single fuck.
"you asked me how this would help you learn," he says, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you even wider. "the truth is, baby, it doesn't." you blink. "what?" "i just want to eat this pretty pussy. i've been thinking about it since the first time you sat on my lap. that sweet little cunt grinding on my thigh. i need to taste it."
"then—" "you need to know what a good eating out feels like. so you know what to expect." he grins against your inner thigh. "but mostly because i can't stop thinking about your taste." and then his mouth is on you. he doesn't start slow. he dives in, tongue flat against your entire pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, wet stroke. you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. "ah! fuckfuckk! professor!"
"mmmnh— fuck—" he hums against you, and the vibration makes your hips buck. his tongue circles your clit, flicks it, sucks it into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to spit on your pussy — a wet, obscene glob that slides down your folds — and then he's back, spreading it with his tongue, mixing his spit with your wetness.
"that's it. taste so fucking good, baby. sweet, wet and perfect. this is what a good pussy tastes like. remember that." "nnngh!— ah— hnnggh—hiro—" his fingers spread your folds open, and he dives deeper, his tongue pushing inside you. you feel it fucking you, curling, tasting your walls, and you're already so close, your thighs trembling around his head. "cum for me, baby," he says against your clit. "first one. give it to me." "i— i—" "cum. now."
his tongue flicks your clit fast, hard, and you cum with a scream, your back arching off the desk. he doesn't stop. he licks through it, groaning against your sensitive pussy drinking everything you give him. "mmmngh— yes. there we go, good girl. that's one."
your legs are shaking, you think it's over. well, it's not. he goes back in, sucking your clit between his lips, rubbing it with the flat of his tongue. his fingers slide inside you, curling, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "i can't! — another one— it's too haah! much—" "you can, pretty girl and you will. look at this pussy. she's not done yet."
his mouth descends again, and this time he's rougher. he presses his face hard into your pussy, his nose grinding against your clit, his tongue fucking you deep. he talks to it, low and breathless, his lips brushing against your folds. "such a pretty pussy. so wet for me, baby. you love this, don't you? having your professor on his knees eating you out in his office while others' works get ruined under your wet ass. you love it."
"yes! i love it! oh my go—i love it! professor—" "tell my pussy you love it." "i love it! i love my pussy— i love your mouth on it—" "then cum again, good girl." he pinches your clit between his teeth — just enough pressure, and the second orgasm rips through you. your legs clamp around his head, but he doesn't move. he stays buried in your cunt, lapping at you, groaning against you. "mmmngh. mmnh—" until you're twitching and oversensitive, sobbing from the intensity.
when you finally go limp, he looks up at you. his face is destroyed — wet, shiny, your cum dripping from his chin, his lips, his nose, his eyebrows. he doesn't wipe it off. "one more, baby."
⋆ LESSON 3: GET ABSOLUTELY POUNDED BY HIS BIG COCK
he points to his desk — the lower one, where his teaching assistant usually sits, covered in student papers. "on all fours." you don't hesitate. your palms hit the wood, your spine arches, your ass pushes back toward him, grinding in the air. you're wearing a dress tonight — short, thin, no panties, and you know he can see everything. your pussy is already dripping, your arousal slicking your thighs.
"look at you," he breathes. "soaking wet and i haven't even touched you yet." "please," you whimper. "please, professor, i can't wait anymore! i need you—" "you'll wait until i say you're ready, good girl." he drops to his knees behind you. his hands spread your cheeks apart, and you feel his breath on your cunt, hot and damp. "i've already made you cum twice tonight, remember? on my tongue, on my fingers. so this won't hurt, baby. i made sure you're ready."
"yes— yes—" but his mouth isn't finished. he leans in, licks a long stripe up your slit, and you moan, your arms nearly buckling. "for luck." "professor— i can't! mmnh! i've already—" "shut up and take it." his tongue slides inside you just to try it again. "good girl," he says, standing up. "now you're ready."
he unbuckles his belt, the sound of the metal jingling makes your pussy clench. his trousers drop just enough to free his cock — thick, hard, leaking, the head glistening with pre-cum. he strokes himself, and you watch him over your shoulder, drooling, your mouth open.
"tell me what you want, baby." "i want your cock, professor. please. inside me." "how badly, pretty girl?" "so badly i can't think. i can't breathe. please— i've been so good— i've learned everything— please just fuck me—" he steps forward. the head of his cock presses against your entrance, and you push back, trying to take him, but he holds your hips still.
"slow, baby or it'll hurt. i'm big and you're tight. breathe." "nnnngh... please—" he pushes in, just the head. you scream, but it's late, the building is empty, no one can hear you. he's so big — bigger than you imagined, bigger than his fingers, and the stretch is blinding, burning, perfect.
"breathe, baby. breathe for me." you gasp and he pushes deeper. "ah! mmnghh!!— fuck! professor!" "that's it. taking it. taking all of this cock. such a good fucking girl." he slides in to the hilt, and you feel like you're being ripped apart. his balls press against your clit, and he's so deep inside you that your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to his size.
"look at you," he groans. "taking my whole cock. this tight little pussy was made for me, babygirl." "move— please— move—" and he does. at first he's gentle — slow, deep thrusts that let you feel every inch. his hands grip your hips, guiding you, teaching you. you can feel every ridge of his cock, every vein.
"rock back into me, baby. meet my thrusts. that's it. feel how good it is when you move together." "harder, please! haah! harder!" "yeah? you want me to fuck this sweet pussy proper?" "yes, please!" he slams into you. hard. the desk screeches against the floor. papers scatter. a lamp wobbles and falls. "fuckkkfuck! hiromi!" "that's it— that's my good little slut— take this cock."
his hips pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit. he reaches around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles. your legs give out, but he holds you up, one arm around your waist, still fucking you, never stopping. "i'm gonna! gonna cum nngh! wanna—" "not yet."
he pulls you up against his chest. his cock stays buried in you, and now he's fucking you from behind, upright, one hand on your hip, one hand on your throat, squeezing just slightly. "you feel that? that's what a real cock feels like, baby. that's what you've been begging for all these weeks." "yes yes! mmmhnah! thank you, thank you professor!" "thank me by cumming. cum on my cock. soak it."
he slams into you, and his fingers work your clit, your head falls back against his shoulder, making you cum with a scream that echoes through the empty building — "ahhh— fuckkk, yesyes, so good! "fuccck, yes— cum for me— cum on my cock." your walls clench around him, and he groans. "nnnnggh— fuckkk— baby mmmnhh— gonna cum, where do you want it?"
"i'm on the pill," you gasp. "cum inside me, professor. please. please, i want to feel it." "yeah? you want me to fill this tight little pussy? you want to walk around campus tomorrow feeling my cum dripping out of you, baby?" "yes! haahhh! pleasepleaseplease!" "gonna! i'm gonna— fuck—"
he slams into you one last time. his cock pulses, and you feel it — hot, thick, flooding you. he groans your name and you feel him twitch inside you as he fills you, his cum spilling deep into your cunt. "fucckkk that's my baby, mmhnh... sweetest pussy, all mine." when he's done, he doesn't pull out. he stays inside you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, both of you breathing hard, sweat-slicked and shaking. lessons completed.
more? ──── art cr. @ yunonoai on x sparkle cr: @kthice
18+ how to sexually harass your hot law professor, higuruma !
1. HRSS 1O1 : YA LIKE MY TIDDIES, PROF ?
law professor! higuruma hiromi is lecturing a class on courtroom ethics while you sit front row & flash your tits in his face.
let me rephrase: professor higuruma is pressed tweed suit / half-loosened tie / hair damp & sticky with afternoon sweat. you’re a third year law school student with translucent excuse for a button-up shirt & an ego bruised from being rejected by your law professor one too many times.
it’s always “you’re too young,” or “this is inappropriate.” never ‘yes y/n, i’d love to put my balls in your jaw !’
so you take matters into your own hands.
no one who’s anyone attends the 4PM lectures. so when higuruma hiromi watches you stroll in at 4:11 PM sharp, hair tied back & blazer on & looking uncharacteristically presentable, professor higuruma can’t hide the way his eyes flit to you & back to the half-empty class again. suspicious.
you sit front row & center. hiromi doesn’t react.
not until you’re flashing your breasts in his face, that is.
sweat beads on your perky nipples & you can only thank the midsummer heat. higuruma hiromi is staring—wide-eyed now, as his least favorite, much too perverted student pinches her nipples with her thumb & index & gives them a good rub for him to see.
& because that’s not enough—it never is with you—you have the audacity to soak your fingers in the wetness of your tongue & play with your pebbled nipples right in his face! two rows to your left in the half-empty classroom is a boy named mike ross who’s caught on to what you’re doing yet keeps his eyes trained straight. he’s just here to graduate. what the fuck is happening?
“class is dismissed. you may all leave.”
the lecture soon comes to an end. you’re packed books & buttoned blazer now, boobs tucked away & the picture of perfection.
“not you, y/n,” you freeze.
“meet me in my office in five.”
2. HRSS 2O1 : TUMBLR SMUT ABOUT YOUR LAW PROFESSOR ? SRSLY ?
professor higuruma isn’t paid enough for this.
that’s what he concludes as he fails the nth essay of the night. it’s 9:15 pm & he’s in the discomfort of his home, back bent over his desk & blue light glasses perched low on the hook of his nose.
one more paper to grade before he goes to bed tonight. that’s what he tells himself, at least.
and behold, the paper is yours! law professor higuruma hiromi knows he should save himself the trouble & give you a big fat F. girls like you are only good at picking slutty skirts & bending over just far enough that he can get the perfect view of your ass mid-lecture. not writing reports or drafting thesis statements.
but law demands fairness, so higuruma opens the document anyways.
LAWP-302 — THE BURDEN OF PROOF : PROXIMATE CAUSE IN PERSONAL INJURY CASES.
beyond the title, the document is completely empty.
hiromi higuruma counts himself lucky. empty doc means earlier bedtime. so before closing his laptop & putting his things away, he reopens your assignment thread to send a new email:
———-
Subject: RE: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
helloooo professor here’s my research paper!!! finally on time for once :p if u don’t mind could u call me a good girl for my efforts??
xoxo,
[Y/N] 💘💓
————-
hiromi winces. he’d already had the misfortune of reading your email before, but accidentally skimming it a second time makes his stomach curl with disgust. he purses his lip, nose scrunched, glasses slipping down his cheek as he steadies the keyboard.
———-
Subject: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: Higuruma, Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
Your submitted assignment was completely empty. Lucky for you, there is still a day to the deadline. Complete the paper and resubmit as soon as possible.
Also, you are a student of a prestigious law school. It is expected your assignments are completed in due time, and I will not “praise” you for your “efforts.” They are expected, and asking me to call you a ‘good girl’ is extremely inappropriate. Not that you seem to care about what’s inappropriate and what’s not.
I’ve also told you to stop emailing me with such casual language. Signing your name with heart emojis is extremely informal and inappropriate. I can only issue so many warnings. May God’s plan for your life be bigger than your breasts, else I can assure that you will never make it.
Higuruma Hiromi
———-
hiromi sighs, body limp & bone heavy. perhaps the late-night frustration has gotten to him—he knows he should delete the last part, but his thumb slips (or not?) & he sends it anyways.
he’s about to close his laptop when an email notification pings. he makes the mistake of refreshing his page, & unfortunately the email comes from you.
———-
Subject: RE: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
Professor 😟,
whatttt are u doing awake at this time. not that i’m complaining!! if you’re emailing me this late because you’ve FINALLY decided you’re interested in me & my big breasts (i’m so glad you noticed their size! the fenugreek must be working 😇), you can message me at 42-42-564 <3333
alsoooo my bad i think i sent the wrong draft </3. the actual paper is attached below!!
night night prof 🌙💤
[Y/N] 😇☺️ (no heart emojis this time bcoz im a good girl :)
——-
law professor higuruma hiromi doesn’t get paid enough for this.
that’s what he tells himself for the third time today. he chooses not to respond to your email, instead opening up the file to get things over with. it’s nearly midnight now & the chill of his office is unforgiving, but with red nose & freezing fingertips hiromi opens up the doc regardless.
at this point, higuruma hiromi should shut his laptop & retreat to bed. this is clearly not your research paper, & whatever you write in your free time is none of his business.
but his name in the first paragraph catches his eye.
“hahh—hiromi,” you whine, a mess of shaky thighs & flushed cheeks. “can’t do it—need your help, please”
higuruma only grips your hips harder, big hands bruising at your thighs. he wastes no time lapping at the juices that spill from your achey cunt, giving your pussy a wet lick before his head tilts back so his nose digs right into your puffy clit. above him you’re half dressed & fucked dumb, mouth hung open & boobs spilling from your bra cup. you’re writhing on his nose, but hiromi doesn’t fucking care.
“you asked for this, no?” his voice is hungry, guttural. “ride, baby.”
what the fuck?
now, professor higuruma should definitely stop reading. he can already feel heat crawling up his throat & itching at his ears. he should step back. mark the document as "Inappropriate Content" & forward it to the disciplinary board. say a prayer & repent, if you will.
instead, his eyes snag the last sentence of the page.
hiromi pulls back, breathless & sticky with your slick, to look at the mess he’s made of his favorite student.
”good girl,’ he murmurs, “look how much you’ve leaked for your professor.”
he slams his laptop shut.
and his heart hammers with a rhythm that has nothing to do with justice. he knows monday will come, & so will your slutty skirts, half buttoned tops, shaky thighs—
he’ll have to see you in his office again. & he knows—with a sorry sense of dread—that it won’t be to fail you.
3. HRSS 3O1 : GET ‘EM BANNED !
monday comes & so does your slutty skirt.
it’s 5PM midsummer & the office air is sticky with heat. a fan hangs heavy in the center, creaky & aching, just loud enough to mask how hard hiromi’s shoe taps against the wooden floor.
in front of him you’re bright smile & pink nose & lace bra peeking from your button-up. hiromi doesn’t let his eyes dip. he doesn’t know how you’re beaming—perhaps it wasn’t clear he’d called you into his office for literal sexual harassment.
“professor,” you coo. “is this about my email on friday? you’re taking up that offer about my breasts?”
two desks to the left, history professor nanami kento clears his throat. on the opposite side is professor giyu tomioka who isn’t paid enough for this & just fucking leaves.
higuruma clears his throat, skin itchy. “i have no idea what you’re talking about, y/n. mind your mouth while in my presence.”
“did you read the smut fic i wrote about you?”
nanami exits the office.
hiromi drags his palm over his face; tired, weary, utterly embarrassed. in all his years of teaching never had he encountered a student as shameless & perverted as you, & even now he’s pretty sure you’re turned on by his exasperation as well because your skirt crinkles from your thighs squeezing beneath his desk. god.
& perhaps hiromi is equally perverted; because some sick, twisted part of him, the part that likes watching you bend over for him to see your panties dig into your pussy, or the part that likes stroking his dick to the memory of you palming your pebbled nipples that one day of class—doesn’t hate it. & he really should. & he really ought to teach you a lesson for fucking with his head & riling him up the way you do.
“professorr,” you sing-song, patting your chest shamelessly. “my breasts? you wanted to take up my offer, right?”
“enough.”
his voice bangs like gavel, and the sound shocks you—he knows because you’re looking up at him now with flushed cheeks & glossy eyes. like you’d never expected him to actually get mad.
and to make things worse, your thighs are squeezing like you like it.
and in that moment, hiromi decides he will take you up on that offer. he’s towering now, jaw tight, palms firm on the mahogany table.
“strip.”
and you waste no time, honestly. hiromi can tell you’re excited, even though you bite your cheek like you’re trying not to show it. your fingers are clumsy against your button-up, pathetic & half-shaky, and hiromi wastes no time before leaning over & snapping your shirt open himself. you let out a squeak as he unclasps your bra. cute.
but he doesn’t lower himself to your perky nipples—nope. higuruma hiromi would rather die than give you exactly what you want. he grabs you by the hair & forces you over his desk instead.
“professor—“
“quiet.”
but girls like you are stubborn as fuck & whine against him anyways. higuruma decides he has no time for that—his palm shifts from your hip to your mouth, keeping you shut & steady against him as he fiddles with his belt. god, you’re already writhing against him, ass rubbing against his already hardened cock. & hiromi doesn’t groan—he’d rather die than give you the satisfaction—so he bites his lip & ignores the taste of blood in his mouth instead.
“f-fuck…”
hiromi takes his sweet time. only his boxers separate you now, clothed dick dragging up your cunt. and he goes slow, painfully slow, like he’s punishing you for all the times you got him rock hard mid lecture & he had to jerk himself off with only the image of your panties digging into your folds or your perky nipples glistening in the fluorescent light.
you’re moaning against his palm now, voice a muffled, damp mess. your hips jerking against his cock make his thighs twitch. god, he’s wanted this so long.
and he finally decides to give it to you.
his dick practically springs from his boxers, heavy & thick & dripping with precum. fuck, he’s aching, practically twitching to get inside you. fuck fuck fuck.
“inside—“ you groan into his hand. “please,”
he’s barely done anything & you’re already a whiny mess! god, what a pervert you are. and hiromi would be a liar if he said he didn’t like it. his palms grip you roughly, lining you up & pressing into your back so you lean far enough to give him the perfect view of your ass.
hiromi doesn’t let you slip your skirt & panties off beforehand because he likes the idea of your skirt fluttering around each time he digs inside you. who says he can’t be a pervert, too?
and he does exactly that, bony fingers sliding your panties over your cunt. & you’re already soaked, wet & sticky so when he slips his fingers aside they’re already dripping with slick.
hiromi doesn’t give you time to adjust.
you don’t deserve it, so he simply doesn’t give it to you. he slides himself in, teeth gritting as your pussy flutters & grips him much tighter than he expected. truth be told, he hadn’t expected your aching cunt to give him such a hard time. dumb sluts like you came easy & pre-stretched, right ?
& he’s half-right, because your folds adjust to him. eventually. just when he lets his palm shift from your hip to your breast to grope them roughly & caress your nipples with his fingers. & god you squeeze with every rub, & you feel so fucking good & hiromi’s not sure how he didn’t give into your pretty pussy much sooner.
well he’s here now, & he wastes no time ramming into you. he digs in deep, hands working your perky nipples as he thrusts into your aching cunt. & he can barely muffle your moans now & he should be concerned about someone walking in but how can he when your whiny moans all go straight to his dick?
& because hiromi’s not easily satisfied, his right hand leaves your lips & sinks to your thighs instead. & god you’re so wet, & he only dips his hand to finger your swollen nub but you’re already a sloppy mess on his palm & fuck he loves it. loves how your ass twitches & hips jerk as his fingers graze your clit, fast & rough, like girls like you don’t deserve warm pace & gentleness.
“hah—ah…hiromi!”
you squeeze him tight, walls pulsing & hips stuttering against him. he thumbs your sensitive clit even harder through your high, thumb digging as you spasm & twitch against him, palms still heavy on your perky nipples. & only when you relax against him, pussy still fluttering, does he slip out his cock to cum on your ass with heavy pants & a breathy “fuck.”
girls like you don’t deserve aftercare or ‘are you okay?’ so hiromi doesn’t give it to you. he’s already buckled belt & smoothed out hair in his seat, watching with lazy eyes as you struggle to shift your skirt over your ass.
you’re still buttoning your shirt when you beam,
“see, prof? that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
except it was, & the post-nut clarity hits him like a bullet. fuck. he should’ve never let a perverted thing like you get under his skin.
hiromi breathes, pulls a drawer from his desk. “i have something for you.”
STARGIIRL! (feat quarterback!toji x camgirl chem partner!reader)
summary: Toji Fushiguro considers himself a very generous man, especially after using part of his D1 quarterback paycheck towards his favorite camgirl. If anything, he's a patron of the arts: dedicated, curious, and always ready for the next big thing. So when he finds out his quiet little chem partner has the same bedroom as his idol? Well... color him intrigued.
content: MDNI 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, camgirl!reader, chem partner!reader, quarterback!toji, fratboy!toji fanboy!toji, jjk college au, no use of “y/n”, porn with a ridiculous amount of plot, vibrators, oral sex (m!receiving, f!receiving), piv sex, squirting, dumbification, toji has a biiiiig dick, daddy kink, size kink, breeding, etc.
word count: 10.1k (i don't play abt this man)
author's note: Holy shit. It’s been so long bbgs, I apologize for the delay and i hope you guys like this one as much as i do <3 all credits of the above pictures go to their creators. The left-most picture is from thatsallitchief on X or tiktok. If anyone knows the artist of the right-most picture let me know so I can tag them! lmk if yall want a part 2 bc i wanted to add a .. toys... scene in this but didn't want to delay any further :P
toji's pre-game playlist: gemstone - don toliver, homecoming - lil uzi vert, don't kill the party - ty dolla $ign, love me - lil wayne, you - don toliver, nightcrawler - travis scott
These were intense times.
The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed.
There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft.
As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses.
It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk.
Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones.
As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf.
Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field.
His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table.
He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer.
Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls.
She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself.
And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts.
His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded.
“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”.
Part one?!
He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one.
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The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20.
And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name.
“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”
He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty.
But in the lecture hall? Well…
His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II.
He was truly a lost cause.
He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never).
So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago.
At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast.
Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you.
And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter.
It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.
In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.
“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”
It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.
You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.
He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.
He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him.
His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter.
Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”
You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen.
For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.
What the fuck?
He took your phone.
“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”
He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones.
“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”
He hated how his dick twitched at your words.
But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.
He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake!
His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”
You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!
And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.
After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.
He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.
You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday.
The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission.
And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill.
He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.
Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days.
And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days.
“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both.
You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe.
He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…
“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare.
“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power.
You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!
You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache.
The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?”
He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly.
You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips.
“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you.
He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag.
“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”
And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest.
A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand.
“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.”
His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away.
“It’s a small place,” you warned.
He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”
He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them.
You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”
For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world.
All he could do was swallow and nod.
He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door.
The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road.
Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row.
The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen.
Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.
And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.
He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–
He coughed lightly.
What was he thinking?
As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine.
Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.
It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.
“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table.
You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down.
He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room.
And, holy shit.
No.
There was genuinely no way in hell.
He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it.
His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body?
Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.
His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it.
Everything looked familiar.
Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–
“Can I help you?”
You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours.
You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.
And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words.
All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.
“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??”
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He scoured through every single video and rewatched every single clip that night.
The furniture, the decor, the walls, the window placement: everything was the same.
And so, the verdict was in: you–his quiet, guarded, asocial, and steely chem partner–were none other than stargiirl herself.
What. The. Fuck.
It was confusing to wrap his head around, this whole stargiirl-chemgirl business. But would he go as far to say that it wasn’t attractive? That he didn’t pop a boner every time he thought about it?
No. He couldn’t. He’d never.
Was this divine intervention or his own personal hell?
He couldn’t tell.
What does this mean? How should he act? What does he fucking do with this information now?
He rubbed his temples before running a tense hand through his hair. At the same time, a notification popped up on his computer.
“Check out a new post from stargiirl_xx !”
He could feel the blood in his veins thumping against his skin.
“Don’t do it. Please don’t fucking do it-” he mumbled.
He tapped into the link despite himself.
“Lessons In Vibration Pt II”
He wordlessly clicked the play button on the video.
For a moment, he thought his screen was buffering. The camera was set up to look out onto your bed, though you were not in frame yet, presumably twiddling with the settings of your camera.
But when you finally did walk into view, his heart nearly imploded.
The frame only showed you from the mouth down, your identity mainly concealed. You were bottomless, bare legs walking across the floor as you situated yourself on your bed. The only piece of clothing you did have on was an overlarge sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, one that he, in his panicked daze to get out of your apartment earlier, forgot he had left behind.
He didn’t dare breathe, nor could he move. His head was craned so close to his computer, as if he wanted to go through the screen itself just to get a better look.
He noted how his hoodie fell past your ass, large and consuming and honestly? So fuckin’ perfect on you.
You were nearing the end of your normal introduction, and he realized you spoke differently on video, low and confident and sensual and hypnotic.
“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about my content throughout the years,” your hands started to draaag the bottom of his hoodie up, letting it bunch just slightly above the dip of your waist, enunciating your curves. “-And I’ve realized I’ve never had a partner during any of them.”
The comments on the side bar started to flood through, hundreds of viewers already volunteering themselves to be your +1.
His jaw ticked, hard.
“I think,” you leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. Toji gripped onto his computer until a faint pop! could be heard of one of the inner screws coming loose. “I think I would like to change that in the future,” and then you smiled, really smiled, a full, playful grin wiping across your features in a way he had never been able to see in person before.
His dick bobbed in his pants.
This could not be happening to him right now.
You continued, “but for now, welcome back to my Lessons in Vibrations series.”
He watched as you started introducing the toys you would be using today, before you slowly began to touch yourself, teasingly showing glimpses of the purple lace panties you had on underneath his hoodie.
And he couldn’t help it, really.
Because when you started rubbing your vibrator against your clit, your deft fingers plunging skillfully into your cunt, soft whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy started squelching out a fucking melody – all while wearing his fuckin’ sweatshirt – what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
His sweats were already halfway down his thighs, and his meaty hand greedily pumping his own cock in sync to you fucking yourself on your fingers.
He watched hungrily as you pushed his sweatshirt up further along your body, exposing your stomach, teasing the view of your bare tits. He bit back a groan at the thought of your scent lingering in the fabric, and prayed to whatever deity above that you wouldn’t wash it out before he got it back.
Below, your fingers languidly teased the head of your vibrator against your entrance. It was the insertable kind, with a slender tip and curved body, the type that had your hole trying to suck up the device with every rub against your dripping slit.
He could feel the veins in his cock pulsing hotly in anticipation, pushing up thick pearls of precum out onto his flared tip.
He wondered what it would be like to slip his shaft against your drenched pussy lips, to massage the underside of his cockhead against the tight ring of your entrance, to feel you squeezing around him, and to hear the sounds you would make just for him.
He gulped, cool sweat starting to form on his brow. You were beginning to fuck the device into you, pumping the vibrator in and out and in and out. He could see your legs trembling, your juices starting to uncontrollably splash outside of you, and your pussylips fluttering with every bzzz bzz bzzzzzt of the vibrator fucking and swirling and massaging into your g-spot.
He was matching your pace, furiously pumping his dick, thinking about how you looked on all fours earlier, thinking about how you smiled when you called him his name, thinking about how you look when you concentrate and the mole above your brow, thinking about the coffee you made for him and the weird shitposts you sent and the way you could look at him like he was nothing, and everything, all at the same time.
And suddenly, he wasn’t climaxing to the stargiirl he had always seen on screen.
It was his tough, quiet, calm chem partner.
And as he shot hot spurts of thick, ropey cum all the way from his dick to his chin (the most he’s ever released before), he realized only one thing.
He just finished to the thought of you.
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Toji Fushiguro had a problem.
No, scratch that.
He had a fucking crisis.
It was drill day, and his head was absolutely nowhere near the turf. He fumbled balls, missed targets, and was a full thirty-seconds under his usual sprint times.
And that was only how one of his practices went this week.
It had been five whole days since he last saw you.
Five days of being dogshit at his sport.
Five days of holing up in his frat, avoiding campus, avoiding class, avoiding your texts, avoiding you.
It’s not like he wanted to do this, but he didn’t know what to do, how to act, or what to even say.
How could he talk to you casually while knowing he’s given probably a third of his checks to you? How could he be normal in your presence knowing that he’s watched every single one of your streams, and in turn has finished an embarrassing amount of times to each of them?
How could he trust himself when the thought of you alone had his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt? Or how his chest squeezed so tight he almost went to urgent care, just because you texted asking where he’s been and if he was okay?
How could he face you, knowing that he somehow developed the largest, fattest, most egregious fuckin’ crush on you?!
And, for the record, Toji Fushiguro did not do crushes. He hadn’t necessarily “ran through” the entire roster of available chicks on campus, but he did have an occasional fling, nothing serious, nothing long, nothing that would distract him from football and his dreams.
He was known as the campus heartthrob and heartbreaker. He was Mr. Non-Chalant, Mr. Everybody-Wants-A-Piece-of-Him, and Mr. I-Don’t-Get-Attached all wrapped up in one 6’4, 230 lbs body.
A crush? That was new, unexplored territory for him.
He stared down at your last texts to him.
⭐️(Thursday, 12:03pm): i got us a nice spot!! im sitting on 2nd floor @ clark ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Ba-dump!
⭐️(Thursday, 12:18pm): knock knock, is mr. toji theree
Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
⭐️(Thursday, 12:56pm): hey, is everythin ok? r we still on for today?
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–
⭐️(Saturday, 10:01am): r u alive
It physically sickened him that he couldn’t get his cowardly fingers to just fucking write back. But every time he opened up your text chain, all he could do was stare.
Which is exactly why he couldn’t see you yet.
He needed time.
He needed space.
He needed to get this shit under control.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, the Kappa Epsilon fraternity was throwing a rager tonight. With the group of men only one week out from the next bracket of playoffs, this would be the last night the football frat would get to drink together for a while if they were to make it to the finals.
It would be the perfect distraction.
About an hour or so into the party and he was buzzed. He absolutely demolished that shithead Ryomen in beer pong, crushed a pack of PBRs, and now was cooling off in the kitchen, his body feeling swimmy and light.
He reached for his phone. Maybe, just maybe, if he looked at your messages again for the umpteenth time today, maybe he would know what to say, maybe he–
“Ah, so you can come out and party but ignore all of my texts?”
His heart did that stupid thing where it pounded so hard against his chest he wondered if his ribs bruised.
Despite the booming of the bass coming from the room over, and the idle chatter of randoms idling in the kitchen, he could hear the dry, unimpressed, and entirely too familiar voice coming directly from behind him.
He turned, his eyes lowering to find you, as if it was muscle memory, as if it was his second nature.
You never showed up to these parties (and trust, he has invited you to them all). Yet here you were, your body leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest, and your hair falling around your frame.
He grinned, the buzz in his head making it easy for a stupidly cheeky and wide and boyish smile to plaster onto his face. (a/n: toji has a hung smile. Okay? Okay.).
“Hey, party animal,” he said, almost dreamily.
The top you wore clung to you like a second skin, accentuating the swells of your breasts and the dip of your waist: features that you usually hid underneath your normal, bulkier campus-attire.
He was indecisive, his eyes bouncing between the unreadable look on your face to the sliver of exposed skin right above your miniskirt.
You looked good, really fuckin’ good.
Your eyes widened, before your cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of red, your manicured fingers tightening around the plastic solo cup you were holding
Did he say that outloud?!
You straightened, steeling yourself, willing the warmth in your cheeks to go away. “You’ve ignored me for five days, Fushiguro-” your voice was firm and cool, cutting sharply through the noise of the party.
Back to the last name basis.
You looked away, before adding, “-and you ditched me on Thursday.” You spoke that last part softly, deliberately, a look of sadness flashing briefly in your pretty, doe-like eyes.
A dull pang rippled through his chest.
He knew the implications of your words – the two of you never missed a meetup since this whole “deal” started.
And, like those days in the libraries or cafes where he found himself sitting before you, following your every word and direction, he now found himself moving towards you, a small pout forming on his scarred lips, as his strong arms caged you in until you were wedged between himself and the counter.
And, you knew he was huge before.
But now, up close, you realized just how large he was - his broad shoulders obscuring your view, his muscular chest rippling under the tight black shirt he wore, and his huge hands riddled with veins that climbed up, up, up his forearms.
He was overwhelming and all-consuming, surrounding your senses with the kind of intensity only he alone could pull off. You breathed in, your chest rising, fighting against the cotton of your ill-fitting top. He smelled of fresh pine and warm leather, clean and raw and manly.
You came here pissed, but now found your resolve completely fogged and muddled.
He leaned forward, dipping his head low, until his shaggy fringe tickled softly against the shell of your ear.
You knew he had been drinking, but the question was, did he know what he was doing right now? Was this purposeful? Was this real? You couldn’t quite tell, but the way his breath stuttered as his nose traced light patterns into your neck, the way he was breathing you in, and the way his hands periodically clenched onto the countertop as if to restrain himself, told you he was at least semi aware of what he was doing.
Your heart was hammering in your chest. The two of you never stood this close before, let alone touched each other.
You turned your head slightly, trying to put at least some ounce of space between your face and his.
But for him? That just would not do.
He slowly pulled away from your neck, his nose lightly mapping a path from the base of your neck, across the soft expanse of your cheek, to the tip of your own. Noses brushing, breaths mingling, chests heaving, and hearts pounding as his scarred lips hovered your glossed ones.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
The air between you was warm and thick, charged with something tender and so deeply intimate.
“Because you scare me,” he mumbled.
“Oh, really?” Your mouth twitched.
“Mm.” He nodded once, nose rubbing softly against yours in an eskimo kiss. You could see how his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips dangerously close to pressing against yours.
“‘Think ya cursed me.” His neck flushed red, his low voice was barely above a whisper.
“I can go-”
“Don’t.”
And then his large hands were latching onto your waist, the heat of his skin searing through the thin material of your skirt.
“Don’t. Don’tDon’tDon’t.” His brows scrunched together, his face becoming serious. “Don’t go. Don’t leave. Not when you’re here, with me, pretty girl.”
You breathed, taking your time to steady your voice after hearing the pet name roll off his tongue. “Then what should I do?”
“Stay.”
It was as simple as that, really.
And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft and commanding. He kissed you like you were sin, drinking you in, savoring you on his tongue, before inevitably, always inevitably, going back for more. He didn’t let you breathe; he wouldn’t. He was greedy and wrong and possessive, claiming your mouth like it was his alone to conquer. Your knees weakened as his tongue massaged against yours addictively, molding against you like you were made for him; like he was made for you.
Your hands moved before you could think, before you could decide if you were angry with him or if you hungered for him. You found purchase on his broad shoulders, before making your way up, up, up to his neck, one hand running through his dark hair while the other held onto the underside of his strong jaw, thumb gently caressing the scar on the side of his mouth, pulling him in.
He pressed into you further, your ass hitting the lower counter. His body was flush against yours, his chest purposefully rubbing against your tits.
He could feel your nipples hardening through the flimsy cotton of your top, and he couldn’t stop the sleazy grin that was forming on his face.
Below, his grip on you was gentle but firm, bringing your body to press and grind against his in an unhurried, languid way, like he had all the time in the world, like all of this was fated from the start.
And his fingers, oh his fingers, which spanned across your hip, slowly found their way to your ass, gripping and cupping and kneading into the soft, jiggly flesh.
You could feel something move against your thigh, something sturdy and heavy and completely fucking monstruous.
“Haah-” you shakily sighed out, breathy and dazed as you looked down to the outline of his bulge. Your eyes widened.
“I like when you use that smart mouth, y’know,” he was talking against your lips, not able to find it in himself to pull away. His hand slid up the side of your waist, until he stopped right underneath your breast, his thumb rubbing against the underside of where it started to swell.
His voice dropped an octave lower, whispering to you like it was a secret. “Talk to me. Break this curse. Tell me it’s not just me that feels like this.”
Please.
His heart was racing. He was stone cold sober. This was it. This was his admission.
ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–
You breathed.
The party raged on in the background, muddled and distant, like his ears were submerged under water–
“It’s not just you, Toji.”
Your voice was quiet, your cheeks tinted rouge, your pretty eyes looking up at him in earnest.
And that was all he needed.
He picked you up like you were nothing (his bench was 350 lbs, squat 600 lbs, and his hip thrusts? don’t even worry ‘bout it), a smug, victorious grin tugging at his scarred lips.
He carried you out of the kitchen, and a steady stream of wolf whistles and howls erupted from his frat brothers and party goers as the two of you made your way across the foyer, up the stairs, and towards a bedroom. His bedroom.
He carried you inside, keeping the lights off, letting the warm glow of the streetlamp beside his window spill softly across the room. Without a word, he set you down on his large king-sized bed.
The air in his room was tender and still. You could hear the faint bass of the stereo downstairs, vibrating against his wooden floors like a heartbeat. The distant cheers of the crowd down below faded to quiet as he pressed his mouth to your own.
He leisurely climbed over you, never breaking the kiss, his muscular arms holding his body above your own.
It didn’t take long for the makeout to turn heated again, teeth clashing against teeth, bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and teasing in a way that had your head spinning.
You put your hands against his chest.
“Toji-”
“Stay,” he breathed, whispering the words against your lips, like he could read your mind. “-Stay with me tonight,” he pressed his body closer into you, rutting his hips, “and lemme show you the things I’ve been wantin’ to say to you all week.”
You could feel his cock twitch ominously against your bare thigh as you swallowed.
His lips were swollen and glistening from your mixed salivas, his eyes glazed over, jade irises almost completely black. His grip on your lower body was unrelenting, holding you in place.
You lightly pushed your hand against his chest, a hesitant look crossing your features.
A beat passed. For a second, he didn’t even realize he stopped breathing.
“You’ve been drinking,” You paused, your voice coming out small. “What if.. what if you don’t mean this in the morning?”
And for all your expertise and genius, oh, how completely wrong you could be.
He let out a humorless chuckle, his sharp canines peaking through his lips in the process.
“Did it sound like I was jokin’, sweetheart?” He shakily exhaled through his nose as he pressed his erection against your clothed cunt, holding himself there, letting you feel the pressure and full weight of what he was packing. “Does it feel like I’m jokin’ ‘bout this?”
You bit your lip, pussy throbbing, a warm slickness starting to soak through your panties, before messily spreading between your clenched thighs.
You shook your head.
“What’d I say about usin’ your words?”
He pulsed his dick, the sensation making your pussy clench.
Fuckin’ tease.
“Nngh- no. No it doesn’t feel like you’re joking,” you almost gasp out.
A satisfied smirk plastered onto his tanned face.
“Good girl.”
And then he’s moving down the bed, his calloused hands spreading your legs as he pressed wet kisses against the hot skin of your thighs. He was methodical and slow, making his way up your inner thigh, savoring the small sounds that you tried to suppress as he reached the bottom hem of your skirt, his face mere inches away from your sopping pussy, and his breath puffing warm air against your dampened panties .
“Ohhh jus’ look at ya,” you could tell he had the most shit-eating grin on his face right now, pride swelling in his voice as he carefully dipped a large, rough finger between the seam of the thin purple fabric you adorned. “This all f’me?”
And - Holy shit.
The videos of you didn’t even do this justice.
Because low and behold, here you were, under his body, and you were so fuckin’ wet. His finger slid against your folds with little resistance, putting just enough pressure that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he rubbed circles against your clit.
And, Toji Fushiguro never claimed to be a patient man. So, it should’ve came as no surprise when he grabbed your hips and used his hulking strength to push your clothed pussy to his scarred lips, his face nuzzled to your cunt, nose pressed firmly to your clit, and his greedy tongue lapping you up through the soiled fabric.
It was obscene and perverse and dirty and wrong.
But oh, how he loved it. Loved the heady taste you left on your panties, and the sweet scent of your gushing pussy, and the excess slick on your thighs that made its way onto his rough cheeks.
He groaned, a low, guttural sound against your skin that made your tummy squeeze into knots.
“T-Toji, please,” you whined, pressing your greedy cunt into his face, “need your tongue. Need you. Need more.” You could hardly string a true sentence together, and he hadn’t even fucked you proper yet.
His heart was thunderous against his chest.
And his dick?
Hardest it’s ever fuckin’ been in his fuckin’ life.
He was grinding his erection against the mattress as he obliged your wishes.
After all, how could he say no to you?
He pushed your panties to the side.
And oh.
His balls tightened below him, the urge to cum almost threateningly near as he stared at your bare, swollen pussy.
Holy. Shit.
Everything was soaked and glistening.
He rubbed one thumb across your puffy skin, his coarse finger getting soaked in the process.
He leaned in, gingerly licking fat stripes along your folds, lapping you up, drinking you in. He worked thoroughly, gathering you onto his tongue, until the lower part of his face was a mixture of your juices and his drool.
It was only after he was satisfied with his work did he make his way to your clit, humming and sucking, the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your cunt filling the air of his room.
The warm pleasure of it all was beginning to pool in your belly, your toes beginning to curl, legs beginning to shake – but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
“Toji, I might-”
He plunged a rough, thick finger inside you, spearing your tight velvet walls apart, all the way up to his knuckle.
You saw fuckin’ stars.
The sound you made was so erotic, so loud and depraved and raw, that his dick lurched in his pants, warm gooey pre-cum beginning to leak out from his throbbing tip and into his briefs.
He wanted to hear you again, and again and again and again.
He wanted videos, home movies, and spotify playlists of the way your pussy was talking to him.
Emboldened, his tongue was unrelenting on your clit, as one finger became two, and then two became three.
You mewled as he crooked them up, massaging against that soft, spongey bundle of nerves that had you panting his name out like it was prayer.
Your ears were ringing, your eyes beginning to get wet with tears.
Soon, he was fucking you on his fingers proper, setting a debilitating pace as he plunged his digits in and out and in and out. Filling you up, stretching you out, hitting your most sensitive areas. Again, and again, and again.
The pressure in your core was reaching its limits now, and the pleasure from the sheer fullness of your pussy and the sinful patterns of his tongue were beginning to send violent tremors down your legs.
You were orgasming before you even realized it.
And yet, he was didn’t stop – didn’t even give you time to breathe as he’s diving into your pussy, slurping you up, his large nose rubbing against your over-sensitive clit as he’s fucking his thick tongue and his fingers past the tight ring of your entrance, fucking you, warm and wet, through each of your peaks.
Your hands held onto his hair like a lifeline, your fleshy thighs locked around his head as if to keep him in place.
“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes glazed over, completely and utterly pussy drunk, as you looked down at him, his mouth still latched onto your cunt.
You could see your slick dripping down his face, mixing with the light trails of perspiration that sprouted from his temples.
Your heart squeezed in your chest.
It was only after the last few waves of your orgasm subsided when you could finally respond.
“I think,” you gently reached down to run your shaky hand through his scalp, tenderly pushing away the sweaty fringe by his eyes. “I think I can think of something that might taste better.”
And then you’re pushing him until he’s moving to the top of the bed, his back resting against the headboard as he pulls his black shirt up and over his head, triceps flexing, exposing his muscular pecs, washboard abs, and the light tufts of hair that sprouted on his chest, and got increasingly darker the further down his abs it went.
You could feel your pussy walls clamp down, warmth pooling in your core again as you reached out instinctively to run your hands along the length of his torso.
You never thought, in all of your wildest dreams, that this would be happening. Nor could your dreams do justice to the perfect build of the man before you.
“Well look at you, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your soft hands slowly sliding up, up, up against his skin, all the way from where the dark tufts of thick hair started to disappear under his pants, and towards his pecs, feeling the way his traitorous heart stuttered as you called his name. “Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”
You held his gaze, the air around you charged with anticipation.
Who would move first?
His breathing was shallow as he stared at you, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Your top was rumpled to hell, exposing the line of your cleavage in a way that had his pants tenting painfully, and your mini skirt was so far scrunched that it looked like a belt around your waist.
“For others, sure…” He grabbed your hands, pressing them deeper into his skin as he slid them up to cup his face. “But for you?” he was whispering now, his ears growing steadily pinker by the second, “I’m afraid you have me beat.”
Oh.
And then you’re leaning in, tenderly pressing your lips to his own, mumbling his name over and over again to stop you from saying those other three little words, before sealing it with your tongue.
And then he’s pulling you into his lap.
You could taste yourself in his mouth and on his lips, your nipples tightening as his large hands grabbed handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before making them clap together again.
A muffled groan escaped from the depths of his chest, vibrating against your mouth, as he felt new gushes of your slick begin to dampen the front of his pants.
“Mmmnh- get comfortable, pretty girl.” He slurred out as he pulled at the waistband of your skirt, before letting go, allowing the material to slap against your skin with a light sting.
“Hmm… only if daddy gets comfortable too.” your eyes were big as you stared at him through your lashes.
And oh fuck.
Toji had to lean his head back, his skull hitting against the wall with a dull thud!
The way the words left your mouth had him breathless, brain short-circuiting, and dick throbbing. He needed to recuperate. Calm down.
Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat.
You smiled slyly, completely aware of how your words affected him, as you pulled your flimsy top off, followed by your bottomwear. Your tits were heavy and full as they were released from the cotton, nipples peaked and stiff.
You were bare before him, your arms on either side of his hips, squeezing your tits together lightly as you bent low to whisper against his ear.
“You like when I call you that?” Your voice was sweet as honey as your hands traced the large outline of his dick through his pants, gripping his shaft through the tight material, and feeling the monstrous size of his girth.
“Careful, sweetheart,” his voice was a mixture of restraint and warning, “don’t start callin’ me that unless y’er tryna see it through.” His neck was visibly tense, and his hands clutched on to the meat of your hips as he stared at you.
Pretty girl.
He squeezed tighter.
His pretty girl.
A moment of silence passed as you considered his words. “And what if I do wanna see it through…?” Your head tilted cutely while your mean hands found their way to his happy trail, running your nails down through the thick tufts of dark hair, dipping juuust below the waistband of his pants, before retreating back up again in slow, agonizing loops. “Show me your worst, daddy.”
And who was he to deny you?
Before you knew it, he had his pants and briefs shoved down his legs, his massive cock heavily thudding against his washboard abs
Your mouth gaped open.
And ohhh how he relished the dumb look on your lil’ cute face.
You didn’t even think anyone could be this large.
Yet here he was, with a dick that looked like it belonged in a porno, pulsing fat and heavy and huge as he leaked pre-cum all over the angry mushroomed head.
He smirked, cocky as ever, as you subconsciously licked your lips, eyes glazed over, cock drunk just off the look alone.
Your pussy gushed warm, new slick between your legs as you carefully leant down, your hands grabbing around his base, slowly bringing his dick closer to your face.
He could feel the warm puffs of air coming from ur plush lips, his dick twitching like crazy at how close you were to finally, finally getting your mouth on him.
You pressed a gentle kiss to his leaking slit, before running your lips over the excess pre-cum, painting your lips with the milky substance.
He swallowed hard. His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged.
He groped your tits, rolling your stiff nipples in his calloused fingers, eliciting the sweetest moan from you that reverberated around his dick.
You gave him small kitten licks at first, teasing the idea, before gradually licking thick fat stripes up and down the length of his huge dick. You traced the pulsing veins that climbed up his hot shaft and licked around the sensitive underside of his throbbing cockhead.
And it was only when his chest was heaving, his impatient hands gripping onto your skull, did you finally, finally begin to throat fuck the shit outta him.
None of the videos he had watched of you before even came close to the sensation of seeing the bulge forming in your throat from where his cock was buried inside of you, or the way your nose tickled against the tufts of dark hair at the base of his cock.
You moaned dreamily around him at the feeling of his heavy dick pounding against the back of your throat, filling your mouth and overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you bobbed him in your mouth, hands jerking off what you couldn’t reach, and your thighs rubbing together greedily, craving any ounce of friction against your throbbing pussy.
But before you knew it, he was lifting you off, a light string of saliva following en suit, connecting the two of you together.
“What’s wrong?” You had a devilish grin on your pretty face. “Scared you're gonna cum too quick?”
A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through his body as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, while the other smacked your ass.
“Nah,” his canines glinted in the lowlight, a predatorial grin etching into his features. “Just tryna make sure nothin’ gets wasted.” And then he's shifting you up, rubbing his thick cock against your gooey cunt, mixing his thick pre with your juices.
Your heart fluttered.
His dick was so warm against your skin – so, so much better (and bigger) than the toys you regularly used to get yourself off.
You’ve had enough. You’ve done your waiting. You needed him inside you.
You lifted yourself up, your hands bracing themselves on either side of Toji’s broad shoulders. Your pussy was dripping down onto his angry dick as you slowly lowered yourself, hips circling, letting his throbbing head trace your sopping lips.
He could have almost passed out from the sight alone.
Instead, he panted out a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to restrain himself from bucking up into your cunt.
You paused your hips, lowering yourself again ever so slightly so that his leaking head was now smooching against your gummy entrance, the heat of his cock stirring something warm and familiar in your belly.
Please, please, please, ple–
And then your pussy is swallowing his head whole.
“Oh, fuuuck you’re tight mama,” his eyes squeezed shut, fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead as Toji gasped out at the sensation of his thiiick cockhead squeezing past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance.
Your gummy walls sucked against him from all angles, squishing into his hardness and rubbing deliciously against the sensitive underside of his mushroomed tip.
And this was just the tip.
He didn’t know if he would make it out of here alive. At least, without getting you pregnant.
You whimpered, actually fuckin’ whimpered his name as you reached down, touching where he was spearing you apart, your lips drawn thin and tight to accommodate for the sheer size of him.
“You’re so big Toji,” a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. “Look at how much more I gotta take.” And he did, he really did look. Because you began to let your finger slowly slide from where the two of you were connected, down, down, down to the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.
“Haah- Ya’ think it’ll fit, sweetheart?” He grunted, his lips involuntarily bucking as you pouted cutely at him.
Something impassable flashed across your feature. “I’ll make it fuckin’ fit.”
And then you’re slamming down onto his dick, and it feels like the literal wind gets knocked out of both of your chests.
He has never felt something so deliciously tight before.
You have never felt so goddamn filled up before.
You’re clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering and smooching around his raw cock as it pulses heavy and thick with animalistic need.
It took you several moments to orient yourself, to gather your scrambled senses back together to remember what you were doing, what your goal was, why you were here.
“I have a secret to tell you.” You stared down at him, an unreadable look passing over your features.
“O-oh really?” you squeezed your walls around him, catching him off guard.
“I know you watch me touch myself,” you whispered it like it was a secret, sly and just a touch proud.
And of all the things you could’ve said, nothing would have prepared him for that.
His dick bobbed from inside of you.
“Fushi-daddy420 isn’t the most subtlest of names, no?” you grinned meanly as you watched his jade eyes turn impossibly black as you began to slowly, teasingly, mercifully bounce on his cock. Up and down and up and down.
“But-?”
He thought you would hate him if you knew.
He agonized for days for this reaction?!!
“And after you ran out on me after seeing my place?” you were panting, riding him as you talked. “Yea, that kinda solidified it.”
And just when he thinks you’ve found your rhythm and set your pace, you slowly begin to circle your hips, hitting new angles deep inside your guts that have his throbbing tip pressing into the spongy part of your pussy.
“You don’t -fuhh- don’t hate me?” his mind was swirling, how could he focus when you felt this good?
“Never.” Your hips rolled, and you pressed your tits together, giving him a show.
And you were doing so well, and felt so good. He pressed a fat thumb against your clit, spelling out his name, as if to claim you, mark you, over and over and over again.
T-O-J-I !
He throws his head back as he feels you creaming around his cock, while your eyes are rolling into the backs of your head as you feel his thick goopy pre frothing at your entrance, dripping down onto his balls. The pace is getting faster, the air getting hot, and thick beads of sweat are rolling down your back. The obscene sounds of sweaty skin slapping against skin filled the hot, sex-scented air.
You lean down to kiss him, tongues messily entangling, drool spilling from the sides of your lips as you ride his cock like a fuckin’ animal, ass jiggling from the force of his hips rocking up to meet you, his heavy balls smacking against your pussy like a promise.
In one swift motion, he’s flipping the two of you over, your back to the bed, his dick never leaving your pussy, as he continues to fuck into you. He has your legs spread wide, your knees to his sides as he buries himself deep within your warmth, the new angle allowing you to feel his fat tip smooching against your cervix.
He’s panting, breath shaky as he slows down, rutting shallowly, not allowing himself to be too far from your gummy insides. “T-tell me where you want it,” his voice came out strained, and you could see where his veins were protruding on his neck.
Oh. His cum.
His balls were pressed against you, tightening with every passing second. You could feel his dick bobbing against your walls as he was direly trying to stop himself from cumming.
You smiled, soft and sweet, as you pressed a hand against your lower tummy, feeling the bulge of where he was nestled inside you.
“Oh, you already know,” and you were batting your pretty lashes up at him, making his heart stutter. “Isn’t that right, daddy?”
And oh, how his broken mind snapped.
The next thing you knew, he’s pressing your knees so far up they’re knocking against your tits, his hulking body leaning over and pressing down into you, chest against chest, until you could feel his warm lips sucking bruises by your ear.
And then he’s draaagging his thick cock through your pussy until only the tip is inside you, before snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock the deepest it could go back inside you, spearing you apart, and setting an absolutely cruel, delicious, depraved pace that has his balls bruising your ass and his cock breeching your womb.
It goes for what feels like seconds, minutes, hours.
Your legs began to shake at all the sensations, your pussy walls convulsing around him and your ears ringing as you started to see white.
And he truly couldn’t keep it in any longer.
Not when you sounded so hot, with your face scrunched up in the prettiest ‘o’ and your nails digging crescents into his back as you called his name, begging for his seed.
And so he bucked up, his hips flush against yours, locking you into the meanest of mating presses, as his dick lurched, balls scrunching, as he pumped copious amounts of his thick, sticky cum straight into your womb.
And he’s still bucking his hips, through each of your peaks, fucking his cum deep inside you, until your belly was bloated and full of him.
“Thattaa girl,” he pressed a warm kiss to your mouth as he fucked you through the last few peaks of your orgasms, gingerly swiping his thumb across your cheek as if you were something precious. “My girl.”
And as you softly drifted to sleep, with a belly full of his cum and his softening dick still inside you, you could feel his scarred lips pressing light kisses across your face, and the mumblings of something that sounded vaguely too close to “iloveyou” whispered into your warm skin.
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Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.
After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.
There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side.
Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).
He still kept his same protein shake recipe.
He still kept his same choice of attire.
But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb.
And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag.
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The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38.
And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend.
prompt: a tense custody exchange turns into one accidental over night stay and old feelings resurface between you and your ex husband, toji. when you go on a date attempting to mingle with another, it goes terribly wrong and toji is the only person waiting.
warnings: MDNI mamaguro! reader, kinda angsty, explicit smut, p in v, fingering, cursing, mating press, breeding kink kinda, unprotected sex, spanking, angst to comfort. brief use of good girl.
authors note: i hope you guys like this word count is 7.6k
“seriously?” you murmur as toji strolls up a half hour late, megumi limp on his forearm, his tiny cheek rests on his fathers shoulder, drool dampening toji’s favorite sweatshirt.
“traffic,” he says automatically.
“you said that last weekend.” you cross you arms.
“and it was true last weekend too.”
“toji.” you say his name flatly, but your eyes are already on megumi. fast asleep, his little fist is curled up in the fabric of toji’s sweatshirt, lashes resting against pudgy cheeks, mouth slightly opened where he’s drooled all over the dark material. completely dead to the world.
you cross your arms tighter, “you were supposed to bring him back at seven.”
“it’s seven thirty.” he says.
“exactly.”
toji looks exhausted in that infuriatingly unreadable way of his—hair messy, clothes wrinkled, eyes shadowed like he hasn’t slept properly in days. there’s a tiny dinosaur sticker stuck to the sleeve next to his wrist.
probably gumi’s.
“you could’ve called.” you say.
toji shrugs one shoulder carefully so he doesn’t wake him. “phone died.”
“convenient.”
there’s a long pause before you decide to speak. “did he eat dinner?”
“yes.”
“what did he eat?” you lean against the door frame.
toji glances down at megumi automatically, expression shifting by instinct alone. softer. “he wouldn’t touch the vegetables. had noodles instead, then he stole half my fries.”
“that’s only because you let him.”
“he looked at me, what can i say?”
you roll your eyes despite yourself. “he’s three, toji. that’s all he has to do.”
“works every time.”
you can’t help the way your mouth twitches, just faintly. but toji notices.. he always does.
“give him here,” you murmur.
toji doesn’t move right away, just shifts his weight to his to his other foot and clandestinely sniffs megumi’s hair.
it’s not that he’s refusing, it just always takes a second too long when it comes to handing your son over, for the both of you.
he shifts the boy slightly in his arms, careful in a way that doesn’t match the rest of him.
“you sure?” he asks.
it’s almost mocking on the surface, almost. but there’s something quieter underneath it, as if he’s not actually challenging you—just confirming.
“unless you plan on standing in my doorway all night,” you say, already holding your hands out.
that does it for him.
toji steps forward and transfers megumi into your arms with surprising care. the boy barely stirs, only tucking his face deeper into your shoulder as soon as he recognizes the shift in warmth.
his grip on toji’s sweatshirt loosens, then, at the last second, his fingers snag the fabric again like he’s changed his mind.
toji pauses. “…he’s got a stealthy grip,” he mutters.
“i see that.”
you gently work megumi’s fingers free one by one, careful not to wake him. when you finally succeed, his hand flops against your chest and stays there, warm and heavy.
toji flexes his empty hand like he’s not sure what to do with it now.
“goodnight, ji.”
he freezes for a moment, just staring directly at you with the same eyes you were so used to seeing at the very crack of dawn. every day.
he just backs out of the apartment, turning when he’s half way through the door. “g’night” he mumbles under his breath.
toji walks out of the complex with heavy, tired footsteps that sound louder than they should in the quiet. you ease the door shut behind him; it clicks softer than usual. then you shift your weight and cross the living room, moving toward the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the space outside. from there, you get a clear view of where toji is heading.
he’s just going to his car, then straight home. it’s what you tell yourself—but there’s also no doubt in your mind that he could be seeing other women.
you sigh heavily, eyes drifting to megumi in your arms. just the mere sight of your son lifts your heavy spirits.
you take him to your bedroom and place him carefully on the bed. megumi makes the smallest sound when you lower him onto the mattress. A sleepy little huff through parted lips, brow pinching for half a second before relaxing again.
“there you go,” you whisper instinctively, smoothing the dark hair off his forehead.
he smells like outside air, baby shampoo, and faintly of grease from fast food fries. very on brand for time spent with toji.
you tug his tiny sneakers off first and line them neatly by the bed. one of his socks is halfway folded around his ankle, the knees of his little pants are dusty.
boys
your fingers pause when you notice the tiny plastic dinosaur still shoved into his jacket pocket.
you pull it free carefully, green.. missing one eye, megumi’s favorite toy lately.
the corner of your mouth softens, then your eyes drift to the window without meaning to. the parking lot below is still visible between the slats of the blinds.
toji’s car hasn’t moved. you stare for a second, then two more.
megumi shifts behind you, turning onto his side with a sleepy mumble, and your force yourself away from the window long enough to pull the blanket over him properly.
maybe he’s checking something on his phone..
maybe he’s fallen asleep,
or maybe -
your jaw tightens slightly, you walk back toward the window anyway. the car is still there, engine off, dark inside.
something unsettled curls low in your stomach before annoyance quickly smothers it.
you slip your feet back into your house shoes and quietly leave the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. the apartment is dim except for the kitchen light you forgot to turn off earlier.
by the time you make it downstairs, irritation has already rebuilt itself nicely.
the night air hits cool against your skin as you step outside the complex. toji’s car windows are fogged faintly at the corners.
you march over and rap your knuckles sharply against the driver’s side glass.
a beat later, there’s movement inside. toji startles awake instantly.
he blinks once, processing, then rolls down the window slowly. “hey..” he says, voice rough with sleep.
you stare at him; his seat is pushed back farther than usual. one arm still rests over his stomach. there’s a crumpled kids napkin stuck to his shoulder.
“you fell asleep.”
he rubs a hand over his face. “no shit..”
you roll your eyes because of course you do. who is he talking to? “you were gonna sleep in the parking lot?”
“to be fair,” he mutters, looking you up and down.. “wasn’t really planned..”
“you should’ve gone home.” you lie.
there’s a pause, then, he says, quieter this time, “yeah.”
your irritation flickers strangely at the rims.
up close, he looks worse than before. exhaustion sits heavy beneath his eyes now that he’s not actively holding himself upright through it. his hair is flattened awkwardly on one side from the headrest.
there’s a long silence before you speak again. “when’s the last time you slept properly?”
toji gives you that one look that that immediately answers the question.
you exhale through your nose, “not good.”
“well i’m alive aren’t i?”
“barely.”
his mouth twitches faintly at that, too tired for a real one.
you cross your arms tighter against the cold. “you can’t drive like this.”
“i’ve driven worse.”
“that’s not comforting, toji.”
somewhere nearby, a gate rattles softly in the wind. then toji leans his head back against the seat and shuts his eyes for just a second too long.
that decides it. “come upstairs.”
his eyes open again immediately. “what?”
“you heard me.”
“you don’t have to do that.”
“i know.”
he studies you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out if this is a trap.
“you can sleep on the couch.” you add flatly. “don’t make it weird.”
a quiet scoff leaves him “wasn’t planning to.”
“good.”
neither of you moves. then, eventually, toji sighs low under his breath and reaches for the keys.
“kay.” he murmurs.
the apartment is quiet again by the time midnight settles in.
the kind of quiet that makes every little sound feel louder than it is—the hum of the refrigerator, the echoing squeak of the smoke detectors, the soft rustle of sheets every time megumi moves in your bed.
toji is asleep on the couch. at least, you think he might be.
you tried not to look at him when you handed him the spare blanket earlier. tried not to notice the way his eyes followed you around the kitchen while you filled a glass of water for him. tried not to notice the way he fit back into this apartment despite everything.
as if he’d never left at all.
you’re halfway asleep yourself when thirst finally drags you out of bed.
the apartment floor is cool against your feet as you shuffle toward the kitchen. the hallway light is off, leaving only the dim glow over the stove illuminating the room.
and there he is.
of course, toji stands shirtless by the sink, one hand braced against the counter while he drinks straight from a glass. his sweatpants hang low on his hips, dark hair messy from the little sleep he got when he’d just arrived.
you stop short. he glances over.
neither of you says anything until- “you own shirts,” you mutter.
“ta sleep? not really.”
your eyes betray you for exactly one second before flicking away from his chest.
toji obviously notices. the corner of his mouth pulls slightly as he sets the glass down. “thought you were asleep.”
“so did i.” you move around him toward the cabinet, deliberately leaving space between your bodies. the apartment suddenly feels much smaller than it did an hour ago.
you grab a cup, but toji won’t move out of the way.
“you’re crowding the sink.” you say categorically.
“you came to my sink.”
“it’s my apartment.”
“mm.”
the sound vibrates low in his throat, lazy and amused. so annoying.
you fill your cup anyway, hyperaware of him standing beside you. heat rolls off his skin in waves, warm and familiar enough to make your chest tighten unexpectedly.
you hate that you still remember things like this. the shape of him in low light, the scar near his shoulder,
…the way he always smells faintly like clean soap and cigarettes no matter how hard he tries to cover one with the other.
“you’re staring.” toji says quietly.
you grip tightens around the cup. “you wish”
“hm.”
you finally look at him then, mostly because you’re irritated enough to. he’s already looking directly at you.
sleep softened him a little, took the sharpness out of his posture. but his eyes are still heavy in that same unreadable way that always makes you feel like he knows more than he says.
the tension shifts subtly but immediately
toji’s gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. your stomach flips hard enough to annoy you.
“don’t.” you say softly.
“didn’t say anythin.”
“you don’t have to.”
neither of you move as the silence drags on, the air feeling thick suddenly. your gaze drops to the floor, your mind flooding with thoughts of when weekends meant everything to all three of you—you, toji, and megumi.
times when weekends were more than curt, deadpan conversations and custody exchanges..
back when weekends meant staying up too late with laughter echoing through the apartment, some animated movie forgotten in the background as megumi drifted off halfway through your marathons—leaving you and toji slipping away together in hushed, stolen moments.
your thoughts unravel before they can go any further as from down the hallway, a tiny, sleepy voice sounds; “mama?”
you step back immediately like someone snapped a wire between you. toji looks away first this time.
“i got him,” he says, already pushing off the counter.
“toji-”
but he’s already moving down the hallway barefoot and half asleep, snatching lazily at the back of his neck as he disappears toward your bedroom.
and against your better judgment, you listen.
a few seconds later you hear megumi’s tiny relieved whine followed by toji’s low, gravelly murmur.
“yeah, yeah.. m’here.”
you linger in the kitchen longer than you intend to. your water has gone untouched in your hands, condensation dampening your fingers while the sound of megumi’s sleepy babbling drifts faintly down the hallway.
toji answers him in low hums instead of actual words.
‘mm.’
‘really..”
‘did she?’
the familiar cadence of his voice pulls at something deep in your chest before you can stop it.
you tell yourself you’re only checking to make sure megumi settles back down. that’s all.
the bedroom door is cracked open slightly when you reach it. warm lamp light splits through the gap in a thin stripe across the floor.
you peek inside quietly
and your heart betrays you instantly.
megumi is sprawled across the middle of the bed sideways, blanket kicked completely off his legs. toji’s laying beside him on top of the comforter, one arm tucked behind his head while the other rests over megumi’s tiny stomach to keep him from rolling off the mattress.
megumi’s poking aggressively at toji’s cheek.
“an’ then mama said no more candy.” he explains very seriously.
“cruel,” toji murmurs.
megumi nods solemnly. “very cruel.”
“oh, to survive such hardship at your age.” toji sighs dramatically.
a sleepy giggle bubbles out of megumi.
your chest aches. toji looks different like this. not sharp edged or guarded. just tired and warm and soft around megumi in a way barely anyone ever gets to see.
megumi continues rambling without pause, words slurring together from exhaustion.
“and at school yesterday ‘michi spilled glue an’ mrs. tanama said bad choices an’ then…” he yawns so hard his whole face squishes “mama makes the dinosaur voices wrong.”
toji’s eyebrow lifts. “she does? do tell.”
you narrow your eyes from the doorway automatically.
megumi nods with the seriousness of a tiny judge. “t-rex not sound like that.”
“huh.” toji huffs at his son’s broken way of speech, adjusting his position in bed so that he can finally sleep..
you should walk away now, but instead you lean slightly against the doorway. “oh, and you’re apparently a dinosaur expert now?”
megumi’s sleepy face lights up immediately. “mama!”
before you can react, he’s pushing himself upright on wobbling little arms. then he points decisively at the empty space beside toji.
“get in, mommy.”
you blink. “gumi-”
“family cuddle.”
the words hit the room softly. toji goes still for just a second.
megumi, oblivious, pats the mattress harder. “come on!”
you cross your arms automatically. “you should be sleeping.”
“you too.” megumi counters instantly.
who taught him to clock you like that?
toji snorts quietly under his breath, so you shoot him a look that says ‘don’t encourage him.’
megumi is still waiting expectantly, eyes barely open now but stubborn enough to hold out forever if necessary.
you hesitate, again.
maybe that hesitation is your first mistake because megumi is not happy. his tiny mouth turns downward. “mama..”
toji exhales softly through his nose, eyes fixed on the ceiling now like he’s deliberately staying out of it.
but then, he speaks quietly. “he won’t sleep if he thinks you’re leaving”
your eyes flicker towards him and his expression stays unreadable.
coward.
you sigh heavily like this is a massive inconvenience to you personally. “fine. move over.”
megumi cheers weakly like he just won the lottery and needs to be quiet.
toji shifts without complaint, moving closer to the edge of the bed. the mattress dips under your weight as you climb in carefully beside megumi, keeping what you tell yourself is a reasonable amount of distance between you and toji.
megumi destroys that plan promptly.
the second you settle, he flips dramatically across both of you like a tiny exhausted bridge.
one hand lands on your shoulder, the other grabs a fistful of toji’s hair. “there.” he murmurs proudly.
toji looks over megumi’s messy hair toward you.
“this is your fault.” you whisper.
“mhmm.” he sounds too tired to argue properly.
megumi squirms happily between you both for another minute, all soft kneading hands and loud giggles as both of his parents’ warmth engulfs him.
he mumbles half finished stories that slowly stop making sense. “an’ then dinosaur got school too momma..”
“yeah?” toji murmurs, eyes closed.
“mmhm…” his words get slower and softer until they finally dissolve into sleepy breathing.
megumi’s cheek is smushed against your shoulder now, one tiny foot thrown over toji’s arm.
you stare up at the ceiling while toji still faces megumi. the room feels unbearably warm.
“he missed you this weekend.” toji mutters.
your throat tightens a little so you glance over. toji’s still looking at your son when he says it.
“kept askin’ when you’d come home.”
home.. not your apartment or daddy’s place. but just home. you swallow carefully. “he likes being with you. it’s all he can talk about for days after the weekends.”
he finally looks at you, quiet. “yeah.” he says softly.
there’s something dangerously gentle in his face now. sleep worn and open in a way you haven’t seen in a long time.
it makes your chest hurt. megumi shifts between you both with a tiny sleepy sigh.
toji looks down automatically and smooths a hand through his son’s hair.
before you can stop yourself, your eyes soften too. toji notices, of course he does, he always does.
the next morning starts slowly. warm sunlight slips through the blinds in pale stripes, catching lint and dust in the air while megumi sleeps face down between you and toji like he personally fought a war overnight.
one of his legs is still thrown over toji, this time on his stomach.
toji’s awake first, you notice because every time you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you. not even subtly.
“creepy,” you mumble sleepily.
“morning to you too.”
megumi snores softly into your pillow. you push yourself upright carefully, stretching your arms over your head before remembering exactly who’s still laying beside you.
toji watches the realization hit your face and his mouth twitches.
“don’t even start.”
“i wasn’t gonna say anything.” he protests.
“you keep thinking out loud! without even saying anything.” you yell-whisper.
“probably”
you roll your eyes and start climbing out of bed. “you’re staying today.”
that catches his attention at once. “to babysit?”
you pause halfway to the door. “you say that as if he isn’t your child.”
“only to survive this attitude.”
“hm.”
he props himself up on one elbow now, dark hair slicking down in every direction. “where’re you going?”
his biceps flex slightly in his current position, eyes focused completely on you.
you busy yourself fixing the blanket around megumi. “out.”
“with?”
“someone.” toji goes quiet, not dramatically or angrily, just still.
you can feel his eyes on your back when you turn away. “you got a date?”
you shrug your shoulder casually, too casually. “second one.”
“with the same guy?” he asks, body tensing further because second sounds worse somehow.
“yes, toji.”
he lays back against the headboard slowly. “second,” he repeats, “must be serious. huh?”
“it’s not a crime.”
“didn’t say that it was.”
“have you been seeing anyone?”
toji scratches lazily at his jaw and says, “yeah. of course.”
your stomach twists despite yourself. “oh.” you hate how small it sounds.
his eyes stay on you carefully now, watching every little reaction like he’s trying not to and failing anyway. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“nothing.” you smooth megumi’s hair back a little too precisely. “you’re allowed to.”
“yeah, who said i wasn’t?” toji’s gaze narrows slightly. “you askin’ because you care or because you’re nosy?”
morning light makes him softer around the edges again, sleep still heavy in his face, megumi’s leg resting across his stomach like your son claimed him sometime during the night and never let go.
there’s a faded crease on his cheek from the pillow. you remember waking up next to that face for years.
that’s the problem.
“i was making conversation,” you say coolly.
“bullshit.”
“watch your language in front of him.”
“he’s knocked out anyway.” he murmurs, but complies.
“she worked at the gym.” he says finally.
you blink. “hm?”
“the woman.” his tone stays causal, but barely. “you asked if i was seeing anyone.”
you immediately regret asking. “worked,” you repeat lightly, because apparently your mouth enjoys self sabotage.
his eyes flick toward yours. “don’t start with that.”
you stay quiet and move around the room now, digging in your closet in search of a dress. you pull a pretty red one, slightly revealing—nothing too much, but nothing too little.
“i just need you to stay here a little longer tonight.”
“how long?”
“not sure yet.”
“mm.”
you risk glancing over finally. his expression gives you absolutely nothing which annoys you more than if he looked irritated.
“you don’t have to sound so excited for me.” you joke, but only silence follows.
toji stares at you before scoffing slightly. “i’m just thinking.”
“about?”
he just stares at you. you know he’s not gonna answer.. so you head for the doorway before he can say anything.
“d’you like him?”
“that’s kind of the point of dates,” you answer after a second, aiming for lightness and missing by a mile.
toji exhales once through his nose. “didn’t answer the question.”
you glance back then.
he’s still half buried in your bed, hair a mess, one massive hand absently resting over megumi’s leg where it’s thrown across his stomach. morning sunlight cuts across his face in warm stripes, catching the tiredness still lingering beneath his eyes.
you look away first. “he’s nice. easy to be around”
toji was all late night whispered arguments in the kitchen, hidden emotions, tense car rides at two am, and wet, breathed apologies in your neck. he was anything but easy.
and yet there was still warmth buried under all that steel.
whether it be a hand resting at the small of your back in crowded rooms, his jacket dropped over your shoulder before you could even say you were cold..
he’s quiet for a second, just watching you too closely. “sounds boring.”
your eyes roll before you can stop them.
“maybe he is nice, if he’s letting you go on a date wearing that.”
your jaw drops slightly before you catch it. “it’s not even that bad. i’ve worn several dresses just like this one.”
“trust me, i know.” he murmurs before reverting his gaze to megumi.
an awkward silence presses into the room, the only sound being megumi’s soft breathing and your quiet hands rummaging through your makeup bag, pulling the products you need from it and walking to the bathroom with your dress and towel in hand.
“i’ll stay then. don’t be out too long, woman.” he adds a pinch of humor, it falls flat.
“don’t wait up.” you tease back despite yourself, shutting the bathroom door just to stare at your reflection in the mirror.
you twist the shower handle harder than needed, steam beginning to curl upward almost instantly. the apartment plumbing groans softly in protest somewhere in the walls while you set your things down along the counter.
you busy yourself quickly, peeling off your clothes and stepping beneath the hot water before your brain can continue being annoying about it.
warmth rushes over your skin immediately, easing some of the tension sitting stubbornly between your shoulders.
the bathroom feels warm, and by the time you get out of the shower, the mirror is fogged completely.
you wrap your towel around yourself and wipe a clear streak through the steam with the side of your hand. your reflection stares back immediately, hair damp, cheeks warmer than they should be, focus annoyingly divided.
you lean closer to apply skincare mechanically, then makeup, forcing your focus elsewhere.
concealer, mascara, dark soft blush. you even add a touch of eyeshadow, eyeliner too, matching the slightly dark undertones of your dress.
you look stunning, you are stunning.
you slip out of the bathroom slowly, hands braced against the door, guiding it shut. megumi is awake now, sitting cross legged over toji’s abdomen.
the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut shifts both of their attention towards you. megumi’s face lights up with a smile the minute he sees you.
“mama beautiful!” he giggles, bouncing slightly on toji’s abs, he stands suddenly and rushes to the edge of the bed, you step forward instinctively to catch him before he falls.
“thank you my love” you coo, kissing his little chubby cheeks.
“mama where’r you goin’?”
“mommy’s going out with a friend, gumi.” you smile, bouncing him in your arms slightly but playfully. megumi wraps his arms around your neck and kisses your cheeks now, mimicking what you’d done before.
toji watched with angering soft eyes, scratching his abs absently, pants tighter in the way that only tells you he’s been staring at your dress.
you avert your gaze to megumi as he plays with your hair. “mommy?” he whispers, loud.
“yes, baby?” you whisper back.
“daddy is looking so much at you mama”
a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, toji stands briskly, moving to take megumi from your arms.
“alright, that’s enough. you need to get ready for your extra day with daddy.” he tickles megumi’s side softly and holds him in his forearm.
his eyes skim your chest one more time before he takes gumi to your bathroom and preps their toothbrushes.
you can’t help the smile that keeps forming, you grab your purse and make a stop for the salon before your date.
the smell reaches you before you walk in—acetone, hairspray, the soft steam of a hot comb, and nail polish.
a few minutes later, you’re seated at one of the manicure stations with your hands soaking in warm water while the nail tech eyes your dress approvingly.
“ooo,” she grins knowingly, “you got a date tonight?”
your mouth twitches. “something like that.”
mmhm,” she hums in the universal tone of women who absolutely do not believe vague answers. “what color we thinking?”
you glance down at the rows of polish bottles lined up beneath the counter. reds, pinks, glossy nudes, glittery champagne.
your eyes settle on a deep wine-red polish with a subtle shimmer under the light.
“that one.”
“pretty,” she says immediately. “dangerous color.”
you snort softly. “is it?”
“oh definitely. sweetheart, men lose all sense over dark red nails.”
the irony nearly makes you laugh out loud.
because somewhere back at your apartment is a six foot something problem with dark hair and tired eyes who’d stared at your dress this morning like it personally offended him.
───
the date starts fine, perfect, even. food comes fast and delicious, your date is polite, well dressed—funny enough to keep conversations going without effort.
the restaurant is nice too. soft lighting, expensive wine tiny portions pretending to be art. for the first hour, you almost relax.
somehow the conversation shifts, harmlessly so, that’s just how it starts. family, past relationships, marriage.
your fingers tighten instinctively around the stem of your glass. the last thing you are ashamed of is having a son. megumi is your favorite person, your reason to slip out of bed in the morning.
the same way toji once was.
but going on dates and trying to be with different people, that’s where it becomes a problem. single mothers will never be seen for the work the put into raising their children independently
you decide honesty is better now than later or never. “i was married before,” you admit carefully. “i have a son.”
the man pauses, not long but long enough. “oh,” he says. and immediately, something changes, you know that tone. you’ve learned to recognize it instantly.
‘oh’ can mean a hundred things… but this one means disappointment.
“he’s young?” he asks.
“four.”
your date nods, slowly leaning back in his chair. “that’s… a lot.”
your chest cools slightly. “he’s worth everything. i love him very deeply.”
“sure” he says quickly. “i just mean, personally i don’t think i could date someone with that much baggage.”
the word slips out from his mouth too easily. baggage. you just stare at him and he keeps going anyway.
“especially with the divorce thing too.”
your fingers twitch around the glass, fighting to not slap this man across the face.
“divorce says a lot about women.” he says casually. “no offense.”
you swallow hard. “i don’t think it’s that simple. it can say a lot about men as well.”
“maybe not,” he shrugs. “but i think children deserve stable homes, two parents together. you know? people give up too easily now.”
something sharp twists low in your chest, suddenly you feel exhausted. the restaurant noise blurs around you. the man keeps talking, you’ve already stopped listening.
by the time you get home, your makeup feels wrong and heavy on your skin. your heels ache, your chest aches even worse.
the apartment is quiet when you step inside, dark except for the hallway light. megumi’s already asleep, next to toji, who’s still awake on the couch. of course he is.
he’s sitting in gray sweatpants and a black shirt this time, one arm stretched across the back cushions while muted tv light flickers across his face.
a half eaten bowl of popcorn sits abandoned between them both, his eyes lift immediately when the door opens.
the second he sees you, his posture changes, subtly, sharply… you look away before he can ask anything. “i’m home,” you murmur uselessly.
then you head straight for your room, fast. you barely get the door shut before your throat tightens painfully. god. you feel stupid, humiliated.
your fingers fumble clumsily at the zipper of your dress, it catches halfway down your back.
“are you—“ your hands shake harder. the stupid zipper won’t move.
a knock sounds gently against the bedroom door, you freeze. “..yeah?”
the door opens slowly, toji steps inside quietly. one look at your face and his expression darkens immediately. not angry at you, never that. just angry.
you turn away quickly. “i’m fine.”
“mm.” his voice stays low. “dress says otherwise.”
you huff out something halfway between a laugh and a broken breath. the zipper catches again.
toji watches silently for a second before stepping closer. “lemme help.”
your hands fall away automatically, he moves behind you carefully. warm fingers brush the bare skin of your back as he finds the zipper.
the contact alone nearly undoes you. toji pauses slightly, probably feeling you tense. then, slower this time, gentler, he eases the zipper down inch by inch until the tightness around your ribs finally loosens.
the dress slips slightly loose on your shoulders, neither of you speaks. toji’s hands rest briefly near your waist. “what happened?” he asks quietly.
you stare at your reflection in the mirror in front of you. “at dinner i told him i was divorced. and a mother.”
toji’s jaw tightens immediately. “and?”
“and apparently that makes me damaged goods.”
the words sound uglier out loud, toji goes very still behind you. “he said that?”
“basically .”
silence follows for a brief moment until toji speaks again. “he’s stupid.”
your eyes burn instantly. “i try so hard to balance both my own life and megumi’s. i just wanted something good.”
“you don’t have to do that anymore, i mean it.” his voice is rougher now, certain.
you finally turn slightly toward him. “toji, he looked at me as if-” your throat tightens again. “as if having megumi ruined me somehow.”
toji takes personal offense to that. his eyes widening slightly before calming down again. “he’s a fucking idiot.” he says flatly.
you shake your head quickly, embarrassed by the tears threatening now. “i shouldn’t even care.”
“but you do.”
you look down “…mhm.”
the room goes quiet, and toji reaches up slowly. his knuckles brush beneath your eye before a tear can fall properly.
the touch is impossibly gentle. “listen to me,” he murmurs.
your breath catches.
“there’s nothing wrong with you.” his thumb brushes your cheek softly. “y’hear me?”
your heart hammers against your ribs violently because you believe him. that’s the problem, toji’s eyes drop briefly to your mouth.
then back up again, you should step away.
instead you whisper, “toji…”
he exhales slowly through his nose like he’s holding himself back by force. he can’t take it… the way you’re looking at him, basically naked with just a loose dress on—warmth spread across your face in different hues.. he pulls you against him, eyes locked on your lips. “tell me no.”
that’s the second problem, you could never say no to toji. so your fingers curl lightly into the front of his shirt instead. and that’s all it takes.
he kisses you carefully at first. then your hand tightens against his chest and something in him snaps softly loose.
his mouth moves against yours deeper this time, warm and familiar enough to make your knees weaken instantly.
you remember this. the way he kisses like he’s starving. like he’s trying not to be.
one of his hands slides carefully to your waist while the other cups your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek again.
you kiss him back harder before you can think better of it.
a quiet sound leaves his throat, your forehead bumps his when you finally pull apart for air, both of you breathing unevenly.
toji keeps his eyes closed for one second longer than necessary, the opens them slowly. he’s still close enough that his breath warms your lips.
he turns you around carefully, kissing your shoulders and urging you onto the bed, he sits beside you, his mouth finding yours again slower this time as if he’s relearning something he thought he lost.
your fingers slide into his hair instinctively, damp strands catching between them as he shifts closer on the bed. the mattress dips under his weight, one of his hands braces beside your hip while the other remains against your leg, steady and warm.
the room feels impossibly quiet around you both.
toji kisses the corner of your mouth once, then your jaw, “you smell nice,” he says against your cheek.
you let out the smallest laugh. “thank you. i think it was the salon. smelt like lavender lotion.”
“still counts.”
his hand slides slightly higher along your thigh before stopping deliberately, giving you every chance to pull away if you want to.
your forehead falls briefly against his shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you now that someone else is holding the weight for a second.
toji goes still immediately.
the teasing disappears from him like a switch flipped. his hand smooths once up your back.
“tired?” he asks quietly.
“mhm..”
“you should’ve called me.”
your eyes close briefly. “ji…”
“i mean it.” his voice stays low and even. “woulda picked you up.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, and his expression softens in that dangerous way again—open, sleepy, honest around the edges.
his hand slides carefully to your waist and he gently guides you forward until you’re laying across the mattress properly.
“c’mere.”
“toji-”
“relax,” he says quietly, already tugging the comforter out from underneath you both. “you look like you’re gonna pass out sitting up.”
you narrow your eyes suspiciously, but let him maneuver you anyway.
he turns you carefully onto your hands and knees only long enough to pull the tangled blanket smooth beneath you, large hands steady at your hips so you don’t lose balance.
when he’s done moving to the closet and placing one of megumi’s useless baby blankets in there, he turns to see you still in that distracting position, voluptuous lips glossy and swollen, hair ruffled from his hands being tangled in them earlier…
body rocking back and forth slightly, just craving his attention. he groans softly, moving too quick, shoving your dress off eagerly.
he tosses your dress aside fully, cupping your ass cheeks where they’re presented to him on the bed, round and fat. slowly, he traces his callused thumb along your skin, making you shiver.
his shirt is pulled off, revealing a collection of faded scars that always seemed to catch your attention.
you press back into his hand, needing toji’s rough attention as your breath catches.
toji smirks, leaning close to bite a trembling patch above your hip.
he spreads them, breath hitching sharp, shoving your panties aside to spit a nasty, clear string right between your cheeks, watching it drip down as his other hand tightens possessively around your waist.
you whimper when he slides his thumb lower, toying with your slick as his grip grows firmer.
“toji—“ you whine, back arching further as he leans forward, lips brushing your spine while his hot breath sends sharp tingles across your sensitized skin.
“good girl, arching so good f’me…” he slaps one cheek sharply, nails digging into the plump fat.
you jolt under the sting, a ragged moan slipping out, but his hand doesn’t falter as he nudges your legs wider.
he flips you suddenly, large hands cupping your breasts with fervor, his knee pushes between your legs and spreads them wide, creating a space for him to lean over you.
he unclips then tugs your bra off and takes one nipple between both his thumb and index fingers, lips sealing around the other.
he wastes no time, sucking firm and twisting, pressure that sends heat straight between your thighs, making your hips arch instinctively.
he grunts low when your fingers curl in his hair, his own hand flying down to your soaked panties.
he slides his fingers under the thin fabric, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate strokes as his mouth keeps working your nipple.
you writhe beneath him, small pants escaping your airway. “please toji!”
your words are cut off by his own lips, tongue fighting its way into your mouth. “shh, you want our son to hear you?”
you shake your head frantically, fingers curling into his shoulders—manicured nails shaping round crescents where they squeeze.
“then be quiet f’me, hm?” toji circles your clit in firm, tight circles. a sudden gasp escapes your throat, earning you a sharp slap to your fat, dripping cunt.
you whimper quietly now, dragging your words and slapping lightly at his flexed shoulders. “jiiii!—ah!”
“you want this dick?” he spits, “talk to me, baby.” his voice softens slightly, two fingers sliding into you smooth and immediately gathering your slick.
“mmmm! mhmmm— i want it toji… i want it so bad! please.”
“let me feel this sweet pussy first, mkay?” he curls his fingers in search for your sweet spot.
the minute your fingers tighten around his shoulders and you catch your lips in between your teeth, he pumps his fingers without stop, your legs suddenly feeling weightless and feet hovering off the bed.
your back arches beautifully, pulling a deep groan out of toji, his other hand flies back to your nipple.
he can feel you—and hear you—losing your mind on his fingers, incoherent babbles and weak hands telling what your mouth can’t see to form.
his fingers halt cruelly when he feels your legs trembling, spongy walls fluttering around him, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean of your juices.
you whine louder, unable to keep yourself together, your thighs slide against one another, craving any kind of friction.
he palms himself, watching you squirm and beg for.. anything.
you hook your fingers around his waistband, tugging it weakly. he looks down at your hand and then down at your face..
“please, ji.. please, baby?”
he tugs his sweat pants off briskly, cock bouncing out thick and hard, pulsing with need. he spreads your fat labia, teasing your entrance with his chubby tip.
“fuck, i missed this pussy.”
he pins your wrists above your head with one hand, looking down at your face.
“look at my while i fuck you.”
you comply because of course you do, who doesn’t wanna look at toji’s face when he’s reveling in pleasure?
he lines up with your entrance, watching you whimper under his dark eyes, “mmmm!” you whine, hips bucking desperate.
he thrusts into you roughly, filling you completely. “f-fuuuck, i forgot how tight you are.” he starts moving at a punishing pace, other hand squeezing your breast.
”ngh! oh my— ah! tojiii!”
the noises he manages to pull out of you are nasty. you can feel every inch of him stretching your tight walls, he smirks at your moans, grabbing your chin and gently making you face him again, a contradiction to his usual rough treatment.
he thrusts harder, aiming for your sweet spot before suddenly folding you in half, knees against your chest in a gratifying mating press.
you gasp, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, pussy sucking him in every time he angles himself right where you need him.
“this is perfect for breeding you again. i’m gonna stuff this pussy til’ it takes.” he snaps his hips forward with each word, balls slapping against your ass, the sounds echoing in the hot, sex smelling room.
“ima— mmm’gonna fill you up until you’re pregnant with my child again. you’ll be so round and full with my seed.” he pounds into you mercilessly, determined to make good on his promise.
your moans echo in the room, desperate. your eyes roll back slightly at the intensity of his pleasure.
the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mixed with his deep grunts.
he swallows your whimpers in a deep kiss, hips driving into you. his hips stutter as he feels his orgasm approaching. “m’close.. gonna fill your womb”
his words are what really make you lose it, whole body trembling around his heavy cock, pussy pulsing and gripping his veiny dick.
he watches your bouncing tits. “so beautiful, even better when they’re full of milk.” his hands squeeze them again, remembering the last time you breastfed.
“you’re such a good mother. so nurturing, i wan’ see you like that again.”
his thrusts become erratic, cock twitching inside you. your moans are loud, raspy and desperate at this point.
your juices keep dripping out of you and drenching his abs and pelvis, but he won’t stop until he fills you with everything he’s got.
with one last deep thrust, tip kissing your cervix, he releases ropes of thick cum with a guttural moan, releasing all his seed into you.
“take it, take every drop.” he whispers breathlessly.
you nod, it’s all you can manage, completely fucked out and exhausted under your ex husband.
he stays connected, ensuring nothing leaks out. he collapses on top of you, his cock softening but staying inside.
“you’ll give me another son, right?”
“i’ve always wanted a daughter.” you whisper, fingers twisting his hair.
he brushes yours with his thick fingers, thumb sliding against your cheek gently. “mm, maybe.”
he pulls out carefully, one hand cupping your mound to keep his come inside you.
you whimper at the sensitivity and sudden pressure that comes upon you.
“you’re never gonna see another man again, hm?”
“no… i only want you. only love you.”
“good girl… i love you.” he kisses your temple carefully, hands forgetting everything but your tired body.
he holds you against him, breathing slower as your heartbeat steadies, warmth spreading between both of you as exhaustion settles in.
night wraps gently around the two of you, the silence filling the room. suddenly, the baby monitor on the nightstand crackles, breaking the peaceful haze.
you both freeze, listening as a small, urgent cry rises from the monitor. he sits up groggily, grabbing his boxers before heading down the hall to the living room.
you slip into your nightgown and clean what you can from the bed, adjusting the comforter over the bedsheets and grabbing a few more blankets, you tie your hair up in a loose pony tail, waiting for toji to come back, with gumi.
a few seconds later, he returns holding a swaddled megumi, who’s blinking wide eyed under the lamplight.
“mommy!” he exclames, tears drying as he’s held close by his father.
megumi slowly settles in toji’s arms, his small fingers still gripping his father’s bare shoulder before loosening bit by bit. his breathing is uneven at first, then starts to calm as the warmth sinks in
you sit beside them and brush megumi’s hair back. “it’s okay. you’re safe now,” you whisper softly
he blinks up at you for a moment, still half-asleep, then leans fully into toji’s chest again, cheek pressed against skin as his body relaxes
toji glances at you, wordlessly offering megumi to your arms as if inviting you to soothe him.
“come here, gummy.” you whisper, holding him against you and rubbing his ribs soft.
toji wraps both arms around your waist, head snaking over your shoulder and pecking your temple, then megumi’s.
you are settled into bed a few seconds later, megumi asleep between you and toji, toji’s eyes never leave your face.
you slowly realize that this is exactly what you’ve needed. toji’s hand finds yours beneath the blanket, squeezing tenderly as if anchoring you both.
all you need is your little family right here in this moment, safe beneath the dim lamplight, together again.
idk baby megumi loves dinosaurs and his mom
toji would never be like this im straight fantasizing but that’s the point i hope you like it
The sound of rain hammered against the windows the sound deafening in the quiet atmosphere.
The entire house smelled like baby powder, whiskey, and dinner that was left cold and untouched because your daughter figured that tonight was the best night to scream and cry for hours on end. Two hours to be precise.
Toji looked second away from fighting an infant or strangling himself.
"She's doing it on purpose, she always waits until i sit down." He muttered from the couch, dark hair damp from the ten minute shower he just finished taking a few minutes ago.
You laughed tiredly from the nursery doorway. "She's six months, Toji. Of course she's going to scream."
"Exactly. Old enough for psychological warfare." He stood from his spot on the couch to join you in the nursery, your daughter blinked up at him from your arms. Eyes wide and clearly sleepy.
Toji narrowed his.
"She's got your face," he accused, as if it was a bad thing.
"That's not an insult."
"It is when she's obviously judging me."
The baby yawned dramatically as you walked past Toji and into the living room, settling down onto the couch carefully bouncing her lightly until her tiny fingers curled around your shirt collar.
Toji watched the entire thing completely silent. Not with annoyance. With that look. That quiet look he got whenever he stared too long at you and your child and forgot to hide how much he loved his family.
It still startled you sometimes.
Because Toji Fushiguro wasn't supposed to look domestic.
He was all rough edges and scars. Sharp smiles that promised trouble. The kind of man people would look away from and jaywalk from one side of the sidewalk to the other in the middle of traffic in front of a police officer proudly just to avoid.
And yet here he was at two in the morning in nothing but black sweatpants because apparently wearing a shirt was suffocating, holding out his arms for his daughter with irritation written all over his face. Not out of genuine annoyance, but out of sleepiness.
"C'mere," he grunted. Your daughter immediately reaching for him.
Toji comfortably settled her against his chest, one massive hand covering nearly her entire back while she snuggled into him.
You stared, watching. "She doesn't like you more if that's what you're thinking."
"She does"
"She threw up on you earlier today."
"And?"
"You didn't change your shirt after," You sighed remembering the events. "That's gross."
"Why would i? She was comfortable."
Your chest tightened painfully at how casually he sounded saying things like that now.
Toji noticed immediately. He always did. "What?"
You shrugged. "Nothing."
"Bullshit"
You shook your head, smiling softly. "You're just...good at this."
Toji snorted like the idea offended him. "I'm really not." Though he grew silent looking at the baby sprawled against his chest. Quiet. Thoughtful. "I just don't want her growing up with a shitty father," He muttered. "Especially when..." He drifted off but you knew what he wanted to say. It was about Megumi.
"Shut up with that. You're doing good now, stop selling yourself short. You're a good father, Toji."
Toji went still. "You're good at reading me."
"Occupational hazard."
"Hm."
Your daughter shifted in his arms, Toji looked down at her once more.
Then at you.
And something changed in his expression.
Slowly. Dangerously.
"What?" you asked immediately.
His mouth twitched
"What are you getting all suspicious for?"
"Because every time you look at me like that i end up naked or pregnant."
"To be fair, in this case it was both."
You rolled your eyes standing from the couch and reached for your daughter who was now asleep. Toji handed her over without question, following you as you walked back into the nursery and placed her comfortably in her crib, tucking her in.
“You know,” he said quietly, "You looked good pregnant." he said suddenly.
You raised a brow. "That's your line?"
"I'm serious."
"That's worse."
Toji grinned with a shrug of his shoulders.
hen his expression darkened again as he leaned closer, voice dropping lower.
“Couldn’t keep my hands off you then either.”
Your breath caught.
Because he was telling the truth.
Toji had been unbearable during your pregnancy — obsessed with touching you, kissing you, keeping his hands on your stomach every chance he got. Possessive in a way that should’ve been irritating but somehow only made your heart pound harder.
Even now his palm slid absentmindedly across your waist like muscle memory.
You whispered, careful not to wake up the six month old baby in the crib sleeping thoughtfully. "Stop staring."
"Can you blame me? You give me a kid and look even hotter afterward. It's not fair at all."
"I hate you."
"You married me."
Unfortunately true.
Toji shifted carefully, making sure not to wake the baby before pulling you closer until your thighs pressed against his.
Then, quieter this time:
“I think I want another one.”
Your lips parted slightly. "Toji...Stop lying."
"I mean it." No teasing, no smug grin. Just honesty. Which affected you way more than it shouldve.
"Another one?" You carefully searched his face.
"Yeah, i like this."
“Toji Fushiguro admitting he likes domestic life?” you teased softly. “Should I document this historical event?”
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
You smiled.
But Toji’s hand moved to your waist again, fingers spreading possessively beneath your shirt while his gaze held yours.
“I spent most of my life not wanting shit,” he admitted quietly. “Didn’t see the point.”
Your chest tightened.
“But now I come home and you’re here.” His thumb stroked slowly against your skin. “She’s here.” A pause. “Makes me greedy.”
The sincerity in his voice nearly wrecked you.
Toji noticed immediately.
“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes darkening slightly. “That face right there’s gonna make me put another baby in you.
"Now you're ruining the moment."
"I'm communicating."
"That is NOT communicating."
"It got your attention though, didn't it?"
He leaned in before you could answer, kissing you slowly this time — deep enough to make your thoughts blur instantly.
And when he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, his voice dropped to a rough murmur.
Naoya getting cockblocked by his baby son for the whole day….please?
continuation of this
naoya loves his son, his cute mini-me that followed him everywhere. he played with him, fed him, watched him mess around in the snow that pilled up in the estate grounds but holy shit was that kid an absolute cockblock when he was trying to…give his son a sibling.
first offence came at the night, he came back from a week long mission to his pretty wifey, so fucking obedient for him as they sprawled out on the bed, making out sloppily. he needed to get laid, he was so fucking hard right then.
“waaaaaaahh!!”
fuck. him. he let out an almost animalistic growl as he pushed off of you, grumbling the whole way as he pulled his clothes back together and matched off to go see what his son needed.
second offence came the next morning, naoya had found you in the kitchen making breakfast, his palm down your pants, bending you over the counter. okay, surely nothing would happen this time. the both of you were in the mood, everything was going well…fuck- he had to have you. like right now-
knock on the kitchen door. holy shit. this kid had somehow managed to projectile vomit all over his cot and the servant had ran to come get the baby’s parents.
Naoya went (of course) to go tend to his precious son. but there was no doubting the absolute stink eye he shot that baby, leaning down to whisper at the baby’s cute little face.
“one more time, i swear to god. i know you love your mama, i love your mama too,”
when it came to the last time, naoya was sure nothing would happen. everything was fine, baby was fed and asleep, you were on his lap-
“waaa-“
he called for a servant almost immediately, before locking the door and pounding with reckless abandon into his wife. he loved his kid but goddamn that little snot was a cockblock.
synopsis: your husband decides to pester you while you're making an ikebana, a traditional flower arrangement.
pairing: futureclanhead!naoya zen'in x wife!reader
warnings: explicit sexual content, mdni. kinda misogynistic relationship, but reader has him whipped lowk. she's cutesy. tit fondling, vaginal fingering, biting, slight manhandling, very mild dubcon. sadist naoya tbh. he lurv u doh!
masterlist | other naoya drabble
wc: 1.7k (genuinely self indulgent my bad y'all)
a/n: continued naoya brainrot. genuinely do not know what's wrong with me 😴 he's so dumb but also i love exploring traditional japan for worldbuilding.. i may make this a series with other jjk men too. but rn naoya nation is well and alive with me 😷
you heard him before you saw him due to the heavy nature of his stride. his waraji sandals scrape against the wooden floors as he makes his way to you. carefully perched on your knees, you were focused more on the arrangement of foliage on your desk than entertaining your nosy spouse. tapping your hasami clippers on your chin in consideration, your thoughts are rudely interrupted anyways.
“stop playing with the clippers, yer gonna cut your cheek.” your husband’s tone would sound condescending to most people, but you knew what it translated to. “please be careful, my love” was the more accurate statement he intended.
you turn your neck to look up at him. he was clad in his usual navy haori and white kimono, a twisted frown painted on his lips and eyes narrowed at the sight of you doing any kind of work. the corners of your mouth upturn, your voice soft and mellow. “i have been doing ikebana since my teenage years, husband. you know this.”
he scoffs loudly as he takes to lying on his side near you, hand propping up his head to watch. the free hand plays with your floral stitched sleeve, the action not gone unnoticed by you. “just keep the sharp shit away from your face, woman. your skin is too thin and easily damaged,” he snarks.
you ignore him as you choose a piece of kiku, a soft pink that you especially picked out of your gardens. well, the gardens naoya owned and let you run amok with. “did you know the westerners call this chrysanthemum? what a lovely name,” you muse, humming to yourself.
“americans use too many fucking syllables.” he snaps. you let out a small giggle despite yourself, to which he tugs on your sleeve. not hard, just like how an insolent child would. “my love, the word is ancient greek.” you supply with a suppressed smile, sticking in the flower branch into one of your kenzans that hold the structure.
“my wife, the ever-literate and oh so intelligent lady of the house.” he deadpans. “most men would do away with you for your sharp tongue,” he mutters. again, you pay no mind. there was not much use putting up a fight with this stubborn man.
after adjusting some green foliage around the bloom, you give him another glance. “look, my dear. it’s us,” you say shyly. naoya instantly stops his little tantrum to look at your finished arrangement. it was quite remarkable to be honest. your attention to minimalist detail was unmatched. you had created a scene of the bloom being engulfed by greenery, twisting around it and intertwining branches. it looked as if it was protecting the kiku, yet keeping it all to itself. much like your own lover.
he doesn’t say anything for a moment. you raise your brows. not much makes your husband speechless, so this was an interesting sight to see. you set the hasami down and tilt your head at him in an innocent inquiry, the gesture sending more than a couple rushes of blood to his crotch.
something flashes behind his sharp, feline gaze and he moves to grab your face, giving you a wanton kiss that was anything but poised. you manage a small gasp before you inhale him, full of equal want and need for his lips on yours. his hands move to your hips, encasing and pushing you onto the floor as he ravages you further. your mouth moves fervently and without decorum, unlike the act you maintain in the zen’in home beyond your room walls. however this was your fine arts room, anyone could walk in and see the young zen’in devouring his wife in full, which unfortunately gives you a sick thrill. only a perverted man would be blessed with an equally degenerate counterpart, that being you.
his tongue sweeps in to claim yours with the same entitled hunger he shows for everything that belongs to him. you taste the faint bitterness of the kizami tobacco he must have had earlier, mixed with something darker, something that is purely his taste that you craved so bad. your fingers curl into the front of his white kimono, pulling him closer even as your back is pressed harder between him and the cool tatami floor.
“naoya..” you murmur breathily against his mouth when he finally lets you up for air. it comes out shaky, already wrecked from the intensity of his touches. your hair was disheveled and the pink floral kanzashi hairpin (his gift) was barely keeping it all together. with gentle care he removes it from its place, your locks cascading around you in an oddly seductive way that had him make a noise of lust.
“quiet,” he mutters, and though his voice is rough the usual bite is softened, given by the way his thumbs press into the dip of your waist. “you talk too much when you’re supposed to be taking me.”
he shifts his weight, knee sliding between your thighs to part them despite your tied kimono, letting it ride up and expose your smooth legs. the heavy fabric of his hakama skirt brushes against your skin as he settles over you. one large hand slides up your floral sleeve, then higher, tugging at the collar of your kimono until the soft line of your throat and collarbone is out for him to see. his mouth follows immediately in hot pursuit, open kisses that turn into sharp little bites along your neck, each one accompanied by a satisfied hum when you arch into him.
you feel him smile against your skin when a soft, raw whimper slips out of you.
“see?” he rasps, voice smug. “even yer body knows who it answers to.” his hand finds the tie of your obi and makes quick work of it, loosening the wide sash with his natural impatience. the cool air kisses your skin as he parts the layers of silk and cotton beneath. when his palm finally cups your breast, thumb brushing over the already-peaked nipple, your breath hitches sharply.
your idle hand reaches up to push his haori off his shoulders. he lets you, shrugging the dark fabric away without ever fully lifting his mouth from your body. the white kimono underneath hangs open, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the faint scars from sparring you’ve traced with your lips a hundred times before.
your hands explore greedily, wandering nails grazing down his abdomen until you reach the waist of his hakama. he catches your wrist before you can go further.
“not yet.” he says, eyes gleaming with that predatory satisfaction that made your core pool. he pins your hands above your head with a single grip, leaning down so his lips brush your ear. “you were thinking about me while you made yer little flowers? only you would make something so innocent so fucking sexy. now i want to watch my pretty wife fall apart.”
his free hand slides down your body, calloused fingertips tracing the inside of your hip, then lower. the whimper before was nothing like the whine you let out now. you watch his jaw tick in an instant reaction. he pushes your thighs further apart with his knee and cups you through the thin underlayer still clinging to your skin. the heat of his palm makes you jolt in lingering pleasure. when he presses two fingers against your core and starts a slow, teasing rub, you bite your lip hard enough to feel a sting.
“look at you,” he murmurs, voice low. he feels how wet you already are. “already soaking for me just from a few kisses. greedy little creature.”
you try to glare up at him, but it dissolves into a moan when he slips those fingers beneath the fabric and sinks one thick digit into you without warning. your back arches clean off the tatami.
“naoya…!”
“that’s better.” he adds a second finger, curling them just right where he knew you loved it, thumb circling your clit with relentless precision. his gaze never leaves your face, drinking in every flutter of your lashes, every parted gasp. “keep saying my name while i taint you. my sinful wife. be loud enough that this whole damn estate knows who this tight cunt belongs to.”
your hand flies to his shoulder, nails scratching him hard as pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly. the ikebana sits forgotten on the low desk just beside you, soft pink kiku petals trembling every time his hand moves. the sight of it; your careful respectable work now witness to this? it sends another shameful thrill through you.
he leans down, capturing your mouth again in a messy, claiming kiss as his fingers drive you closer to the edge. when you start to clench around him, thighs trembling against his hold, he pulls back just enough to growl against your breath.
“come for me, my love. then i’m going to fuck you properly on this floor until you can’t even walk through yer gardens tomorrow.”
the promise, delivered in that arrogant, adoring tone only he could manage, is enough to snap the tension. how awful that the only time you feel indescribable bliss is when he uses adornments with you. you shatter around his fingers with a broken cry of his name, hips jerking against his wetted hand as pleasure ripples through you in waves.
naoya watches you through it all, eyes dark with hunger and something softer underneath that belongs only to you. ownership of his true heart, perhaps?
when your eyes stop seeing stars and legs cease trembling, he finally releases your wrist and brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate slowness.
“good girl,” he purrs, already reaching for the ties of his hakama. “look right at me, petal. no one else will ever get to see my wife fall apart like this.”
his gaze drops to your spread thighs, then back up to your dazed, loving eyes. the same eyes who only saw your wretched partner as the mover of all worlds for you and you only.
“now… let’s see how well my prettiest petal can take the rest of me.”
i'm feeling a collection coming on for real... the voices 😵💫
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reblogs are highly appreciated ♡
all dividers by @cafekitsune, photos from pinterest
cw: smut, crack, Naoya is... Naoya. Hes beefy as hell #NEEDDAT, mentions of eating/tasting cum, headlocks, choking, doggy, mentions of blowjobs, hes cocky and meanish, naoya secretly likes getting his butt touched...
Your boyfriend has been getting… bigger.
In the hunky beefy toe curling muscular way.
Not that he was scrawny before, but his waist was nonexistent and he had the body of a lean god.
You noticed it after waking up one morning and having a heavy ass arm across your chest. And the owner of it getting his beauty sleep right besides you, looking pretty as ever.
You noticed when the shirts he wore seemed to get tighter or when he would stretch it would show more of his stomach and that inviting happy trail than usual.
You noticed when he ate almost everything in sight, when you'd have dinner together he'd always finish before you and then try to reach over to grab your plate. Greedy bastard.
Bulking!Naoya who would tease you when he'd catch you staring at his biceps.
"Stop ogling me. Am i some sort of piece of meat for you to drool over? Tch. Pitiful." He'd scoff, rolling his eyes.
But that cocky bastard would lift up his arm to 'fix' his hair, making sure to flex the large muscle right in your face.
Bulking!Naoya who made good use of his bulky arms. You were trying to poke fun at him but Naoya knew a way to silence you.
Your laughter quieted down as a thickk strong bicep curled around the front of your throat, forcing you to step back against his chest. Mind you, his pecs were soft as pillows now. The back of your head hit the cushiony muscles and his arm wrapped around your fully.
"That shut you up real fast. "
You tried to look up at him, but all you could see was a grinning Naoya with a glint in his eyes, suddenly tightening the hold around your neck. The way you sputtered for air made him chuckle- warm, beefy muscle squished your cheeks up, the pressure was… actually really nice, it wasn't like he was trying to kill you or something, but the sensation of having your throat squeezed and head forced back was pleasurable.
"What's wrong? Can't talk anymore?"
He leaned down, lips almost against your ear. "Good."
Your hands came up to pull at his arm once you started to run out of oxygen. Or maybe it was because a tingling sensation was blooming right between your legs.
Bulking!Naoya who let go, but played it off as a joke. "Watch your tone next time, brat. Or I'll make sure you turn blue." He waved a hand around and pretended to straighten his lightly rumpled shirt… blaming you in his mind for even having to fix it.
Speaking about hands…
Bulking!Naoya who you asked to compare hands with.
"What? You hold my hand too much already, why do you want to compare them?" He sounded annoyed but his fingers flexed in anticipation.
His fingers looked thicker… his hand engulfed your now. Oh… Well.. you had noticed you were on the brink of cumming on his palm any time he fingered you recently. Might explain that too.
"I bet your hand is smaller than my face." You blurted out, snorting and quickly pulling your arm back.
"You think?"
Bulking!Naoya who was competitive no matter what it was. So in an instant a large shadow was cast over your face and fingers were digging into the fat of your cheeks, covering your forehead and a calloused palm was over your mouth.
He lightly shook your head around, a smirk tugging on Naoya's lips.
"You thought wrong."
He pulled his fingers away from the sides of your face, but grabbed your jaw instead, those sharp eyes watching your lips form a pretty pout.
A thumb swiped across your bottom lip, teasing you enough for you to start parting your lips- when you thought he was about to let you suck on it, he let go.
And then he'd let go and walk off like he hadn't just manhandled your mug.
Bulking!Naoya who you shamelessly groped, besides his ass because he seemed sensitive about that. Getting to grab all over, to feel up the abs and his sides and ugh you mushed your face between his pecs, trying to smother yourself.
Naoya just stood, looking uninterested as you had your fun.
Bulking!Naoya who's tits and arms weren't the only body parts that had gotten juicer.
His thighs and ass.
Listen, a fine piece of ass is a fine piece of ass.
Bulking!Naoya who was minding his business, reading something on his phone while standing in the middle of the kitchen, scratching his chest trough his t shirt. And you, who sneaked up behind him.
Bulking!Naoya who let out a whiny moan after you poked his left ass cheek.
The kitchen went silent. He froze up, not turning his head.
"…Naoya?"
"Not a word."
You could see a pink flush creeping up his neck and to his ears.
But he still had his back turned to you, assuming you'd leave him alone after the incident- but you just had to.
SMACK!
Your palm landed flat on the meaty thing, making sure to grab a handful trough his sweatpants and then attempting to run away.
It was worth getting your ass beat. (literally get bent over the nearest surface and Naoya doing what you did ten times as hard to your poor booty just to get back at you)
Bulking!Naoya who's cum was thicker now for some reason. Must be all the protein and sugar he's consuming. You noticed it after he had pulled out at the last moment during a mating press and splurted cum all over you, as if he was trying to paint you in it. It got all over you chest and tummy and even shot across your face.
Obviously he made you use your fingers and mouth to clean it all up. He wasn't going to touch his own release.
It was way hotter and thicker for sure, even tasted better.
You tried to convince Naoya to kiss you to taste himself but he turned his nose up, crossed his arms over his chest… only emphasizing his bulky build even more… and telling you he isn't some animal.
Sex? Oh sex was great.
Who knew him working out so much and gaining mass would raise his libido trough the roof.
Bulking!Naoya who would come back home after going for a run or lifting weights and wanted you to suck him off IMMEDIATELY.
"Knees, now. Hurry up."
Who were you to deny such a demand?
Bulking!Naoya who liked to bend you over and grab onto your hips and make sure you felt how easily he held you in place while pounding into you.
yes POUNDING.
His thrusts grew only heavier and meaner, using his strength to go for longer than ever before. You couldn't even moan probably because the air was being punched out of your throat, eyes rolling back and back bending from the sheer force.
You were surprised he hadn't flung you off of the bed by now.
Not to mention Naoya basically covered you entirely while leaning over you, and if he pulled you up by the hair, wrapping a rough hand around your throat and into the underside of your jaw, forcing you to sit up while he fucked up into you? It was useless to try and squirm away.
Bulking!Naoya who was just a big, cuddly teddy bear at the end of the day. You tried to snuggle with him, but you always ended up being engulfed entirely, trapped against his chest and surrounded by thick arms. He only let you go if you started to whimper about being too hot.
Or maybe he shoved a thick finger in your whiny mouth and slept peacefully.
Yoon's notes: so sorry my first thing back is NAOYA LOL but i saw this art and i just..i...i had to..
synopsis: You ran from your arranged marriage in a torn white wedding dress, desperate to escape the cruel lord your family sold you to. By midnight, you’re on your knees in front of the village butcher, begging for shelter.
Toji Fushiguro doesn’t help runaways.
But when you blurt out that he’s your husband in front of the biggest gossips in town, suddenly the whole village believes you’re his. Now you’re trapped in a fake marriage with the terrifying butcher — a massive, rough, possessive man who has decided that if you’re going to call yourself his wife… he’s going to make it very, very real.
pairing: butcher!toji fushiguro x runaway bride!reader
mdni | warnings: smut, first time, size kink, breeding kink, creampie, cum play, rough sex, possessive/jealous Toji, dirty talk, spanking, manhandling, strength kink, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), fingering, spitting, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, fake marriage
word count: 14.8k
a/n: im kinda obsessed with this ngl... also lmk if your enjoying these longer fics!
The great hall of your family estate felt more like a tomb than a place of celebration.
Thick beams of dark oak loomed overhead, and the air was heavy with the greasy smell of over-roasted venison, spilled sour wine, and your father’s desperation. Two massive iron chandeliers flickered with dying candles, casting long, distorted shadows that danced across the walls. Servants had long since been dismissed, leaving only the three of you: your father, Lord Kato, and you — the silent prize being traded away.
Your father slumped in his carved high-backed chair, cheeks bloated and flushed deep red from too much drink. His once-fine tunic was stained with grease and wine. With a trembling hand, he slid the sealed parchment across the table. The wax bore your family’s broken crest.
“She’s untouched,” he slurred, trying and failing to sound proud. “Barely nineteen summers. Fertile. She’ll give you strong sons, I swear it. Obedient when properly disciplined. This marriage settles every debt between our houses — the gold, the eastern lands, the failed harvests… all of it wiped clean.”
Lord Kato sat across from him like a spider in human skin. Tall and unnaturally pale, with sharp cheekbones and eyes the color of frozen ink. His lips curled into a thin, cruel smile as he let his gaze crawl over your body without shame. He studied the swell of your breasts beneath your gown, the narrow dip of your waist, the way your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The way you trembled.
He took a slow sip of wine, then spoke, voice smooth and cold as winter steel.
“She’ll do nicely. The ceremony will take place tomorrow night at my estate. I expect her delivered in the finest white lace and silk… and nothing beneath it.” His smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp. “I want easy access the moment the guests leave. I’ve waited long enough for my new bride.”
You stood motionless in the center of the hall, heart pounding so violently you could hear it in your ears. Your skin crawled as if his eyes were already peeling the gown from your body. Nausea twisted in your stomach. This man had already buried three wives. Whispers spoke of bruises, broken bones, and screams that echoed through his halls at night. And now your own father was selling you to him for coin and land.
No one asked if you agreed.
No one asked what you wanted.
No one ever had.
You kept your face blank, eyes lowered like the obedient daughter they expected, while inside your mind screamed.
Later that night, when the household finally fell into drunken slumber and the torches burned low, you moved.
You had planned this in secret for weeks. A plain dark wool cloak stolen from the stables. A small bundle of hard bread, dried cheese, and a waterskin. Soft leather shoes you hoped would last. But the most valuable thing you owned was the wedding gown itself. You had decided to wear the half-finished white dress during your escape — the expensive satin and delicate lace might fetch enough coins in a distant village to buy you passage far away from here. It was risky, but you had nothing else of real value.
You slipped out through the narrow servant’s entrance at the back of the kitchens, the heavy door groaning softly behind you like a warning. The moment your feet touched the cold, dew-soaked grass, terror and fragile hope surged through you in equal measure.
You ran.
The forest swallowed you whole.
Ancient trees loomed like silent judges, their branches clawing at your white gown as if trying to drag you back. The delicate satin — still only half-finished, with pins and loose threads — snagged mercilessly on thorns. You heard fabric tearing again and again: sharp rips that sounded far too loud in the darkness. The long lace veil caught on a low limb and nearly yanked you off your feet; you tore it free with shaking hands, leaving half of it fluttering behind you like a surrendered flag. Mud and wet leaves caked your bare feet. Sharp stones and roots sliced into your soles until every step left bloody prints in the dirt. The cold night air burned your lungs. Sweat soaked your back and chest despite the chill, making the torn gown cling obscenely to your skin. Your legs screamed with exhaustion after only an hour, but fear kept you moving. Behind you, distant shouts echoed through the trees — your father’s guards, torches flickering like angry fireflies. Dogs barked. They were coming.
You pushed harder.
Branches whipped your face, leaving stinging cuts across your cheeks. Your hair fell loose from its elegant pins, wild and tangled. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with blood and dirt. Every shadow looked like a man ready to grab you. Every snap of a twig made your heart seize. You ran until your vision blurred and your chest felt like it would burst. You ran until the shouts grew fainter and the trees finally began to thin.
Hours had passed. The moon hung high and merciless overhead, bathing the world in cold silver light. Your legs trembled violently as you stumbled out of the treeline onto a wide, muddy road. In the distance, warm golden lantern light glowed between clusters of simple wooden buildings. A village.
You nearly collapsed with relief.
The main street was deserted, shutters closed tight against the night. Only one building still showed signs of life. Warm light spilled from its open front door onto the dirt road, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood and raw meat. A weathered wooden sign creaked overhead in the cold breeze:
Fushiguro Meat Co.
You limped toward it, every cut and bruise screaming.
A massive man stood under the wooden awning, illuminated by the lantern light. He was enormous — broad as a barn door, easily over six feet tall, with shoulders and arms so thick with muscle they looked carved from stone. He wore a blood-streaked leather apron tied low on his narrow hips. Beneath it, a simple white tank clung to his sweat-slicked chest, the thin fabric molded to heavy slabs of muscle and dark, scattered scars. His black hair was damp and messy, strands falling across his forehead. A deep, jagged scar twisted the corner of his mouth, giving his face a permanent, dangerous smirk even when he wasn’t smiling.
Thick veins stood out on his forearms as he slowly wiped a long, wicked boning knife clean on the edge of his apron. The blade gleamed.
He looked like violence given human shape — raw, brutal, and utterly terrifying.
You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know anything about him except that he was the only soul still awake, and you were completely out of options.
Your legs gave out the final few steps. You dropped hard to your knees in the cold dirt right in front of him, the torn white satin of your ruined wedding gown pooling around you like spilled milk mixed with blood and mud. Your chest heaved. Fresh tears cut clean tracks down your filthy cheeks.
“Please—” Your voice came out cracked and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Hide me. Just for one night. My family… they sold me to Lord Kato to settle their debts. He’s going to break me. Hurt me in ways I can’t even speak of. I’ll do anything you ask — scrub floors until my hands bleed, haul carcasses, sleep in the cold room with the meat, be your servant, your cleaner… anything. Just please… don’t let them take me back.”
You bowed your head, trembling, and clutched desperately at the bloody hem of his apron with both hands, staining your fingers red.
The man stopped moving. He looked down at you slowly, sharp green eyes narrowing as they took in every detail: your torn and filthy wedding dress, the cuts on your face and feet, the desperate tears, the way you knelt before him like a supplicant before a god of slaughter.
He flicked the long knife shut with a loud, metallic click that echoed in the quiet street.
“Not my problem, princess,” he rumbled. His voice was deep, low, and rough — like gravel being dragged across stone. There was no pity in it. “I don’t hide runaways. Go beg somewhere else before you bring trouble to my shop.”
You stayed on your knees, fingers still twisted tight in the bloody hem of his apron. Tears kept falling, mixing with the dirt on your cheeks. “Please… I have nowhere else. They’ll find me by morning. Lord Kato will—”
Footsteps. Soft, quick, coming from the narrow alley beside the butcher shop.
Three women emerged into the lantern light, their shawls pulled tight against the night chill, each carrying a small lantern. They stopped short at the sight of you kneeling in your ruined white gown in front of the massive butcher.
“Gods above,” the tallest one gasped. “Is that a wedding dress? Child, what in the world happened to you?”
The women hurried closer, lanterns swinging. Warm golden light spilled over your torn satin, the mud-caked hem, the blood from his apron smeared across your bodice and hands. One of the younger women pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s bleeding… and look at her feet!”
You looked down at yourself — the once-beautiful dress now filthy and shredded — then up at the stranger towering over you. His green eyes were narrowed in clear irritation, jaw clenched like he was seconds away from shoving you into the street and bolting the door.
A wild, desperate plan came to your mind.
You pushed yourself up on shaky legs, ignoring the sharp pain in your cut feet. Before he could step away, you grabbed his large, calloused hand with both of yours, clinging desperately. His palm was warm, rough, and still faintly sticky with dried blood.
Turning to the three women with the most exhausted yet radiant smile you could force, you announced clearly:
“This is my husband.”
The words rang in the quiet night air.
The women froze.
You kept going, voice trembling but determined. “We were married in secret this evening. My family didn’t approve — they tried to sell me off to a cruel lord to settle their debts. So I ran away through the forest to reach him. The dress… it got ruined on the way, but I’m here now. I’m exactly where I belong.”
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
Then the women erupted.
“The butcher got married?!” the tallest one exclaimed, eyes wide. “Toji Fushiguro actually took a wife? I never thought I’d live to see the day!”
One of the younger women clapped her hands together, beaming. “Look at her, even all torn up she’s lovely! Brave thing, running through the woods in the middle of the night just to get to her husband.”
The third woman laughed warmly. “We’ll bring fresh bread and some stew first thing in the morning for you newlyweds. Can’t have Toji’s new wife going hungry on her first day here!”
Toji.
So that was his name. Toji Fushiguro.
You felt the man — Toji — stiffen beside you. His massive hand twitched hard in your grip, muscles flexing like he was fighting the urge to rip free and deny everything. His sharp green eyes burned into the side of your face, dark with fury and silent threat. But the women were watching excitedly. The whole village would know the story by sunrise if he contradicted you now.
You squeezed his hand tighter, nails digging into his skin in a silent, desperate plea. Please. Just play along.
Toji’s scarred jaw flexed. A low, dangerous growl rumbled deep in his chest. For one terrifying second you thought he might expose you.
Then, in the flattest, most reluctant voice you had ever heard, he grunted:
“…Yeah. She’s mine now. Wife.”
The women squealed with delight. They offered more congratulations, promised gifts for the “newlyweds,” and finally bustled away down the dark street, lanterns bobbing and their voices already carrying the juicy news.
The moment their footsteps faded, Toji’s grip turned bruising. He yanked you forward so hard you stumbled against his broad, solid chest, then dragged you roughly through the open door of the butcher shop. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud that rattled the walls.
Inside, the air was thick and heavy — cold iron, raw meat, woodsmoke, and the faint metallic tang of fresh blood. A single lantern burned low on the wooden counter, casting long, flickering shadows over heavy chopping blocks, hanging meat hooks, and rows of sharp knives.
Toji spun you around and shoved your back against the closed door. One thick, powerful forearm braced beside your head, completely caging you in. His massive body loomed over yours, heat rolling off him in waves. The scent of blood, sweat, and raw masculinity filled your lungs.
His green eyes were dark with fury… and something much darker, much hungrier.
“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, voice low and lethal. “You just told half the goddamn village you’re my wife. You got any idea what you’ve done, little runaway?”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel the hard press of his chest against yours, the sheer size of him making you feel tiny and trapped.
“It was the only way,” you whispered, breathing fast. “They would’ve dragged me back to Lord Kato by morning if they knew the truth. Now they think I belong to you. No one will question it. Please… just let me stay the night. I’ll disappear at dawn, I swear it.”
Toji stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. His scarred mouth twisted into a slow, dangerous smirk. His free hand came up and gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his intense green eyes.
“Disappear?” he growled, thumb pressing hard into your jaw. “Too late for that, princess. You just tied yourself to me in front of witnesses.”
He leaned in closer, so close his breath ghosted hot across your lips. His voice dropped even lower, rough and full of promise.
“You owe me now. Big time.”
His gaze dragged slowly down your body — over the torn white lace barely clinging to your curves, the bloodstains, the way your chest heaved with fear and adrenaline. He just held you there, pinned against the door, letting the heavy tension coil tighter and tighter between you.
“Upstairs,” he finally ordered, voice like gravel. “Now. We’re gonna have a long talk about what you just got yourself into.”
Toji didn’t give you time to argue.
His massive hand clamped around your upper arm like a steel band and he hauled you away from the door. You stumbled after him on aching, bleeding feet as he dragged you through the back of the shop. The scent of raw meat grew thicker near the cold room, but he turned toward a narrow wooden staircase tucked behind a heavy curtain.
“Move,” he growled when you hesitated at the bottom step.
You climbed. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up your legs, but you bit your lip and kept going. Toji followed close behind, his heavy boots loud on the old wood, one hand still gripping your arm so you couldn’t possibly run.
The stairs opened directly into a small, sparse apartment above the butcher shop. It was surprisingly clean for a man who spent his days covered in blood. A single main room served as both living space and kitchen — a sturdy wooden table with two chairs, a stone hearth with dying embers, a few shelves holding jars of preserved meat and dried herbs. A narrow hallway led to what you assumed were the bedroom and washroom. Moonlight spilled through two small windows, painting everything in cool silver.
Toji kicked the door at the top of the stairs shut behind him and finally released your arm. You immediately backed up a few steps, the torn hem of your wedding dress whispering across the floorboards.
He folded his thick arms across his broad chest, blood-stained apron still tied around his waist, and stared at you like you were a problem he was deciding how to carve up.
“Start talking,” he said flatly. “And don’t leave anything out. Who the fuck are you, why is a lord hunting you, and why the hell did you decide to drag me into your mess?”
You swallowed hard, still catching your breath. You introduced yourself by name, then continued quietly, “My family is in debt. Deep debt. They sold me to Lord Kato yesterday to settle it. He’s a cruel man. Three wives before me, and none of them lasted long. He told my father in front of me what he plans to do on our wedding night.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t stay. I ran in the only thing of value I had — this dress. I thought maybe I could sell it in a village for enough coin to disappear.”
Toji’s green eyes flicked over the ruined white lace clinging to your body — torn, muddy, bloodstained. He let out a low, humorless snort.
“And instead of keeping your mouth shut and hiding somewhere quiet, you decided the best plan was to announce to the biggest gossips in the village that you’re married to the local butcher.” He took one heavy step closer. “You realize what you’ve done?”
You nodded quickly. “They won’t hand me over now. Not if they think I belong to you. The whole village will protect the butcher’s wife… right?”
Toji laughed — a short, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.
“Protect?” He shook his head. “You just painted a target on my back too, princess. Lord Kato isn’t the type to let his property run off. When he comes looking — and he will come looking — he’s going to hear all about how the village butcher stole his bride.”
He dragged a large hand down his face, clearly pissed off, but there was something else in his expression now. A glint of dark amusement. Maybe even reluctant interest.
“You’re either the bravest idiot I’ve ever met… or the most cunning.”
You stood there trembling in the middle of his living room, arms wrapped around yourself. The torn bodice of the dress had slipped dangerously low on your shoulders, but you didn’t dare fix it.
“I’ll leave at first light,” you promised again, softer this time. “I won’t cause you any more trouble. Just… let me stay until sunrise. Please, Toji.”
Hearing his name from your lips made his eyes narrow.
“Don’t,” he warned. “You don’t get to say my name like we’re actually married.”
He turned away from you and walked over to the small hearth. He crouched down, added two fresh logs, and stoked the fire back to life with practiced efficiency. The warm orange glow slowly filled the room, chasing away some of the chill.
When he stood again, he looked even bigger in the firelight — shoulders impossibly wide, muscles shifting under the thin tank top, the scar at his mouth pulling as he scowled.
“Sit,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You’re bleeding all over my floor.”
You obeyed, lowering yourself carefully onto the chair. The moment you sat, exhaustion crashed into you like a wave. Your feet throbbed. Every cut and bruise ached. You were filthy, terrified, and running on nothing but fear and adrenaline.
Toji disappeared down the short hallway and returned a minute later with a metal basin, a clean rag, and a small jar. He set the basin on the floor in front of you, then dropped into the chair across the table, watching you with those sharp green eyes.
“Clean your feet,” he said gruffly. “I’m not carrying you around if they get infected.”
You dipped the rag into the water and started wiping away the mud and blood as carefully as you could. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Outside, the village was completely quiet.
Toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed again, studying you like livestock.
“You really think this marriage story is gonna hold?” he asked after a long minute. “Village folk love to talk. By noon tomorrow everyone’s gonna want to meet my mysterious bride.”
You kept your eyes on your injured feet. “I just need a day or two to figure out where to go next. I can… I can work. I’m not useless. I can clean, cook, help in the shop—”
Toji’s low chuckle cut you off.
“You? Working in a butcher shop?” He shook his head. “You look like you’ve never touched anything bloodier than a sewing needle in your life.”
He watched you struggle to clean a deep cut on your sole for another moment before he made an irritated sound and leaned forward.
“Give me your foot.”
You hesitated.
“Now,” he growled.
You slowly lifted your leg. Toji took your ankle in his huge, rough hand — surprisingly gentle despite the calluses and dried blood on his fingers. He pulled the basin closer and started cleaning your wounds himself with careful, efficient movements.
The contrast was jarring: this terrifying mountain of a man, covered in someone else’s blood, carefully tending to your torn-up feet.
“You’re staying the night,” he said quietly, not looking up from his work. “Not because I’m kind. Because if I throw you out now, those three hens will ask questions I don’t feel like answering. Tomorrow we figure out what the hell to do with you.”
He finished cleaning one foot and moved to the other. His thumb brushed accidentally over a sensitive spot and you hissed softly.
Toji’s eyes flicked up to your face for a second, something unreadable flashing across his expression.
“After that…” He set your foot down carefully and leaned back again, voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re gonna start paying off the trouble you just caused me.”
He didn’t explain what that meant.
But the way he was looking at you — slow, heavy, possessive — made heat crawl up your neck despite the fear.
Toji held your gaze for another long moment before he finally released your ankle. He pushed the basin aside with his boot and stood, towering over you once more. The firelight danced across the hard lines of his face, catching on the jagged scar at the corner of his mouth.
“Stay there,” he muttered.
He disappeared into the back room again. You heard the sound of water splashing, then heavy footsteps returning. When he came back, he carried a thick wool blanket and a tin cup. He set the cup in front of you — it was filled with cool water — and dropped the blanket over the back of your chair.
“Drink,” he ordered. “You look half-dead.”
You obeyed without thinking, your hands still trembling slightly as you lifted the cup. The water was clean and cold, soothing your raw throat. Toji watched you drink the entire thing, arms crossed, before he spoke again.
You lowered the empty cup. “Thank you… for the water. And for cleaning my feet.”
He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, like thanks made him uncomfortable. Then he leaned against the edge of the table, close enough that his thigh nearly brushed your arm.
“You really thought this through?” he asked, voice low. “Running in a fancy white dress, announcing yourself as my wife in front of the nosiest women in the village… What’s your actual plan once the sun comes up?”
You stared down at your bandaged feet. “I didn’t have time for a real plan. I just knew I couldn’t let them marry me off to that monster. I thought if I could get far enough away, maybe sell the dress, I could buy passage on a cart or a boat. Start over somewhere no one knows me.”
Toji exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but darker. “Selling that dress would’ve gotten you robbed or worse before you even reached the next town. You’re lucky you only made it as far as my doorstep.”
Silence settled again, broken only by the crackling fire. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, suddenly aware of how exposed you still were — the torn bodice of the wedding gown hanging loosely, the lace ripped in several places, dirt and dried blood streaked across your skin.
Toji’s eyes drifted over you again, slower this time. They lingered on the curve of your shoulder where the dress had slipped, the rise and fall of your chest, the way the white fabric clung to your thighs.
“You look ridiculous,” he said bluntly. “Like a bride who lost a fight with a pack of wolves.”
Despite everything, a tiny, tired smile tugged at your lips. “That’s… not far from the truth.”
He pushed off the table and walked over to a wooden chest in the corner. He rummaged inside and pulled out a large, worn linen shirt — clearly one of his. It looked big enough to reach your knees.
“Here.” He tossed it to you. “Can’t have you walking around my place looking like that. Change. There’s a washroom down the hall if you want to clean up more.”
You clutched the shirt to your chest. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “You’re still in my house. Still wearing that damn dress that’s going to bring trouble to my door.”
He turned his back to give you a moment of privacy, busying himself by adding another log to the fire. You quickly stood, wincing at the pain in your feet, and slipped behind the partial wall that separated the washroom. You peeled off the ruined wedding dress with shaking hands, letting the torn fabric pool at your feet. The cool air kissed your bare skin as you pulled Toji’s shirt over your head. It smelled faintly of smoke, soap, and something unmistakably masculine. The hem fell halfway down your thighs.
When you stepped back out, Toji turned around. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on you in his shirt.
“Better,” he grunted, though his voice sounded rougher than before.
He gestured toward the narrow hallway. “Bedroom’s at the end. Only one bed. You take it tonight. I’ll sleep out here.”
You hesitated. “I can sleep on the floor. I’ve already caused enough—”
“Don’t argue,” he cut you off. “My house, my rules. Get some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
You walked carefully down the short hall, every step still painful. The bedroom was small and simple like the rest of the apartment — a large wooden bed with thick blankets, a single chair, and a window overlooking the dark village street. You climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers over yourself.
Toji appeared in the doorway a minute later, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame. The firelight from the main room silhouetted his massive form.
“Door stays open,” he said. “And don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night. If I have to chase you down, I won’t be in a generous mood.”
You nodded, sinking deeper into the mattress. Exhaustion was pulling at you hard now, but sleep still felt far away with him standing there watching you.
“Toji…” you whispered.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you,” you said again, softer. “For not throwing me out.”
His expression didn’t soften, but something in his eyes shifted. He pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave.
“Get some sleep, runaway,” he muttered. “You’re gonna need it.”
He left the door wide open. You heard him moving around in the main room — the creak of the wooden chair as he sat down, the quiet clink of a cup. The fire continued to crackle.
You lay there in his bed, wrapped in his shirt, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. The fake marriage. The village women who now believed you were his wife. Lord Kato still out there searching. And the terrifying, strangely careful butcher who had just tended to your wounds and given you his bed.
Sleep finally claimed you, but even in your dreams you could still feel the heavy weight of Toji’s gaze on your skin.
You woke to the sound of knocking.
It was loud, cheerful, and relentless — three sharp raps on the shop door downstairs, followed by muffled feminine voices. Sunlight streamed through the small bedroom window, warm and golden. For a brief, disoriented moment you forgot where you were. Then everything crashed back: the forest, the blood-stained butcher, the lie you’d told.
You sat up quickly. Toji’s oversized linen shirt had ridden up your thighs during the night. Your feet still ached, but the bandages held firm. You heard heavy footsteps downstairs, then Toji’s low, irritated growl as he opened the door.
“Morning!” a cheerful woman’s voice called up. “We brought breakfast for the newlyweds! Fresh bread, stew, and honey cakes. Don’t tell us you’re still in bed on your wedding night!”
Another woman giggled. “We’re dying to meet your bride properly!”
Toji’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs. He appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking imposing in the daylight. He wore a clean black tunic stretched tight across his chest, the same blood-stained apron tied around his waist. His hair was messy, jaw set with clear annoyance.
“They’re here,” he said flatly. “Three of them. Loaded with food.”
Your stomach twisted. “What do we do?”
Toji’s green eyes dragged over you — bare legs, wearing nothing but his shirt. Something dark flickered across his face.
“You sold us as newlyweds,” he reminded you, voice low. “So act like it. Smile. Look happy. Keep the story straight.”
He stepped closer and tugged the hem of the shirt down your thighs possessively. “There’s a spare skirt and blouse in the chest. Change. Quickly.”
You moved fast, wincing at the pain in your feet. Toji turned his back while you dressed in the simple dark green skirt and cream blouse. They were a little loose but far more practical.
When you were ready, Toji gave you one last look and jerked his head toward the stairs. “Downstairs. Remember — you’re my wife.”
The three women had already let themselves into the front of the shop. They had laid out a generous spread on the wooden counter: warm bread, a pot of hearty stew, honey cakes, and spiced cider. The moment you appeared behind Toji, their faces lit up.
“Oh, here she is!” the tallest, round-faced woman exclaimed. “Look at you, dear. Much better than last night. I’m Mrs. Sato, by the way! My husband runs the bakery just down the street.” She gestured to the other two. “This is Mira and little Hana.”
The younger women smiled warmly.
“You clean up beautifully,” Mira said. “You already have that newlywed glow!”
You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your lower back, warm and claiming.
“Thank you,” you said, offering a shy smile. “You’re all so kind. I’m sorry for how I looked last night… the journey through the forest was harder than I expected.”
Mrs. Sato waved her hand. “No apologies needed! Running away from a bad match to be with the man you love? It’s the most romantic thing to happen in this village in years.”
Toji grunted, his thumb slowly stroking your spine. “Wasn’t exactly planned,” he said dryly. “But here we are.”
The women laughed and chattered while you helped serve the food. They asked how you met, how long you’d been secretly courting, and whether you planned to stay in the village. You answered carefully, sticking close to the story. Toji added short, gruff confirmations, never moving far from your side.
Just as the women were gathering their empty baskets to leave, a loud, sharp knock echoed through the shop.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
This knock was different — heavy, authoritative, and impatient.
Toji’s hand tensed on your back. His expression hardened instantly.
Mrs. Sato glanced toward the door, curious. “Are you expecting more visitors already?”
Toji didn’t answer. He moved toward the door, positioning himself so his broad frame blocked most of the view inside. You stayed behind the counter, heart suddenly hammering.
He opened the door.
Two armed men stood outside, wearing the dark crimson and gold colors of Lord Kato’s household. Swords hung at their hips. Their eyes scanned the interior of the shop coldly.
“We’re searching for a missing girl,” the taller guard announced. “Runaway bride. White wedding dress. She fled the lord’s estate last night. Anyone matching that description come through here?”
The air in the shop grew thick. Mrs. Sato and the other two women turned to look at you with wide eyes, then back at the guards.
Toji’s voice was calm but ice-cold. “No one like that here.”
The second guard tried to peer past him. “Mind if we take a look inside?”
You stayed frozen behind the counter, heart hammering. Before Toji could answer, Mrs. Sato stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had gossiped through every scandal the village had ever seen.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said brightly, waving a hand. “You boys are wasting your time. That right there is Toji Fushiguro — our butcher for the last fifteen years. We’ve known him since he was a surly teenager dragging whole pigs through these doors!”
Mira immediately jumped in, nodding eagerly. “And he has a wife! They’ve been happily married for two whole years now. We were at their quiet little wedding ourselves. Very romantic.”
Hana clapped her hands together dramatically. “Yes! They’re the sweetest couple. Toji can barely keep his hands off her even when he’s covered in blood. Always canoodling right outside the shop like they’re still courting!”
Mrs. Sato leaned toward the guards like she was sharing precious village lore. “Honestly, if some runaway noble girl in a fancy white dress had shown up here last night, the entire village would’ve known before sunrise. This dear girl has been living above the shop for ages. Helps Toji with the accounts and everything. She’s no fugitive — she’s the butcher’s wife, plain and simple.”
Toji finally moved. He reached back with one thick arm, caught you around the waist, and pulled you forward against his side in one smooth motion. His grip was firm and possessive, his large hand resting heavily on your hip as he held you close.
The guards blinked, clearly thrown by the united front.
The taller one squinted at you. “But the missing girl was wearing a white wedding dress…”
Mira let out a theatrical laugh. “Plenty of white dresses in the world! Our girl here has been wearing plain village clothes for years. Look at her — does she look like some pampered noble who ran away last night?”
Hana nodded vigorously. “Exactly! She even makes the best meat pies in the village. We’d know if she was some lord’s bride.”
The two guards exchanged uncertain glances. Between Toji’s intimidating size, the three women’s absolute certainty, and the perfectly domestic scene in front of them, their suspicion melted away.
The shorter guard cleared his throat. “Seems like a false lead, then. Sorry to bother you folks.”
The taller one gave a reluctant nod. “Apologies for the intrusion. If you hear anything about a girl in a white dress, send word to the lord’s estate.”
Mrs. Sato smiled sweetly. “Of course, dears. Safe travels back!”
The guards turned and walked off down the street without another word.
The moment the door clicked shut, Mrs. Sato burst into laughter and fanned herself. “Well! That was more excitement than we usually get before noon.”
Mira winked at you. “Don’t worry, love. We’ve got your back. No one’s taking the butcher’s wife anywhere.”
Hana grinned. “We’ll spread the word. The whole village will keep an eye out.”
Toji gave them a short, gruff nod. “Appreciate it.”
The women gathered their empty baskets, still buzzing, and finally left with more promises of future visits and gifts.
The shop fell quiet again, morning sunlight streaming peacefully through the windows.
Toji slowly turned to face you. His hand was still on your waist, heavy and warm. For a long moment he just studied you, green eyes dark and intense.
“You’re damn lucky those three are the nosiest women alive,” he muttered. “They just sold that story better than we could’ve.”
He stepped closer, backing you gently against the counter. His voice dropped low, rough around the edges.
“So the whole village’s got our back it seems.” His thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone. “This lie keeps growing. Whole village thinks you’re mine now.”
His gaze dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes.
“So tell me, runaway… how long do you plan on playing my wife? And how far are you willing to go to make everyone believe it?”
You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was. The counter pressed into your lower back, and Toji’s broad body blocked out most of the morning light. His hand remained heavy on your hip, thumb still tracing slow, absent circles that made your skin prickle beneath the thin blouse.
“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think past getting away from Lord Kato. I just wanted to survive the night.”
Toji hummed, low and thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to decide whether you were worth the growing headache you’d brought him.
“Surviving isn’t enough anymore,” he said. “Not after this morning. Those guards will report back. When they don’t find you, Kato will send more men. Maybe even come himself.” His fingers flexed on your hip. “And the whole village now believes you’re mine. If the story breaks, they’ll look like fools. They won’t forgive that easily.”
You met his eyes, heart thudding. “Then what do we do?”
For a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he reached up with his free hand and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture surprisingly gentle for someone so rough-looking. His calloused fingertips lingered against the side of your neck.
“We lean into it,” he finally said. “Hard. You stay. You act like my wife in public — every smile, every touch, every time someone knocks on that door. No slipping up. No running off when it gets hard.”
He leaned in a fraction closer, voice dropping. “And in private… we figure out the real terms.”
Your breath caught. “Real terms?”
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, dangerous half-smirk. “You cost me peace and quiet, runaway. You cost me the simple life where nobody bothered me. So you’re going to start paying me back.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the heat in his green eyes made it very clear what kind of payment he had in mind.
“I won’t force you,” he continued, surprising you. “Door’s right there. You can still walk out and take your chances on the road. But if you stay…” His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “Then you’re mine until this blows over. Or longer. Depends how good you are at pretending.”
The solid wall of his chest pressed against you, warm and unyielding. You could smell faint traces of smoke, soap, and the metallic hint of blood that never quite left him. Your hands came up instinctively, resting lightly on his abdomen.
“I’m not pretending right now,” you whispered.
Toji’s eyes darkened. For a second you thought he might kiss you — really kiss you — but he held back, letting the tension stretch until it was almost unbearable.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because the village expects a devoted wife. They’ll be watching. Bringing food. Asking questions. Asking when we’re going to have little butchers running around.”
Your face burned. Toji chuckled, deep and rough, clearly enjoying your reaction.
“Don’t worry. We’ll give them a good show.” He finally stepped back, giving you room to breathe again, though his hand lingered on your waist a moment longer. “For now, help me open the shop. Act natural. If anyone else comes asking, you know what to say.”
You nodded, still flushed.
As he turned to start his morning routine — sharpening knives, hanging fresh cuts, preparing the counter — you moved to help where you could. Every time you passed near him, his hand would brush your lower back or arm — small, deliberate touches that looked casual to anyone watching but felt heavy with intent.
By midday, a few villagers had already stopped by “just to say hello” and congratulate the newlyweds. Each time, Toji played his part perfectly — gruff, possessive, pulling you close with an ease that made the performance feel dangerously real.
An older man dropped off a small basket of eggs and clapped Toji on the back. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you settle down, Fushiguro. She must be something special.”
Toji’s arm tightened around your waist as he gave a low grunt. “She is.” His fingers flexed against your side, warm through the fabric of your blouse. You leaned into him instinctively, playing along, and felt the solid wall of muscle beneath his tunic.
A young mother came next with her toddler in tow, offering a jar of preserved berries. She smiled at you brightly. “You two look so good together. How long have you been hiding her from us, Toji?”
“Long enough,” he answered, voice rough but carrying a hint of smugness. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head right in front of her. The casual affection made your stomach flutter.
By early afternoon the steady trickle of visitors finally slowed. Toji flipped the shop sign to “Closed for the Day” and locked the front door with a heavy click. The sudden silence felt louder than all the chatter combined.
You let out a shaky breath and leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around yourself. “They really believe it. All of them.”
Toji wiped his hands on a rag, watching you from across the room. He tossed the rag aside and stalked toward you, slow and deliberate.
Gods, he was huge.
Up close like this, in the quiet afternoon light, the sheer size of him hit you all over again. Broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the fabric of his black tunic, thick arms corded with muscle from years of hauling heavy carcasses, a powerful chest that rose and fell steadily. The jagged scar at the corner of his mouth only made him more striking — dangerous, rough, and strangely, undeniably attractive. Those sharp green eyes pinned you in place, intimidating as ever, yet there was something magnetic about the way he moved. Like a predator who knew exactly how much power he held and chose not to use it… yet.
He stopped right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. One large hand came up to cup your chin, thumb brushing along your jaw.
“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he said quietly.
You felt your pulse quicken under his touch. “I feel like I’m going to faint every time someone looks at me.”
His thumb stroked slowly over your skin. “You’re not fainting. You’re standing here in my shop, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you like you belong to me.” His voice dropped lower. “Looks pretty convincing from where I’m standing.”
The air between you thickened. You could smell the faint mix of blood, woodsmoke, and clean sweat that clung to him. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming — the heat rolling off his massive frame, the way his broad chest nearly brushed against you with every breath.
“What happens when the guards come back?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.
Toji’s expression darkened. “Then we give them the same show. Or I handle it my way.” His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. “But right now? Shop’s closed. No more visitors. No more pretending for a little while.”
He didn’t move away. Neither did you.
Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, exhaustion and adrenaline twisting into something warmer, heavier. Your hands rose to rest on his chest, feeling the hard, solid muscle beneath your palms.
“Toji…” you started, unsure what you even wanted to say.
He cut you off with a low sound. “Careful. You keep saying my name like that and I might start believing this marriage is real myself.”
His grip on the back of your neck tightened just slightly — not painful, but enough to remind you how easily he could pull you in. His green eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering this time, dark with hunger.
“You still haven’t answered my question from earlier,” he murmured. “How far are you willing to go, runaway?”
The shop was quiet except for the distant sounds of village life outside. No one was watching now. It was just the two of you, the weight of the lie, and the growing, electric heat between you.
You wet your lips, heart racing.
“I’m still here,” you whispered. “That should tell you something.”
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, hungry smirk.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “It does.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The shop was quiet now, the afternoon light cutting sharp lines across the wooden floor and the rows of knives hanging on the wall. Toji didn’t step back. He stayed right there, towering over you, one hand still gripping the back of your neck while the other rested heavy on your hip.
He really was massive up close.
Broad shoulders that strained his tunic, thick arms veined and scarred from years of brutal work, a chest so solid it looked like it could take a hit from a horse and keep going. The scar at the corner of his mouth gave his face a permanent edge, dangerous and rough. Yet there was something about the way he looked at you — intense green eyes, half-lidded, focused — that made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
Toji noticed you staring.
“Eyes up here,” he muttered, but the corner of his scarred mouth twitched like he was amused. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna get the wrong idea.”
You swallowed. “I’ve never been this close to someone like you.”
“Someone like me,” he repeated, almost mocking. He leaned in a little more, voice dropping low. “Big, ugly butcher covered in blood half the time?”
You shook your head. “Not ugly.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them. Toji paused, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to decide if you were lying. Then he let out a short, rough breath.
His thumb brushed slowly along the side of your neck, calloused and warm. You could feel the strength in his hand, how easily he could tighten his grip if he wanted. The contrast between that raw power and the way he was holding back made the air feel thick.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said quietly. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “I’m not a patient man, runaway. And I’m definitely not a gentle one.”
Your hands were still pressed against his chest. Under your palms, his muscles were firm and warm, shifting slightly with each breath. You didn’t pull away.
“I know,” you whispered.
Toji’s jaw flexed. For a moment his control looked strained — shoulders tense, fingers pressing harder into your skin. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.
“If you stay,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “this stops being fake whenever I say it does. Behind this door, you won’t be playing a role. You’ll be in my bed. Under me. Taking what I give you.” His thumb dragged across your lower lip. “And you’ll moan my name like you mean it.”
Your breath caught.
Toji held your gaze for another long second, then slowly released you. He stepped back, rolling one shoulder like he needed to shake off the tension. The sudden space felt colder than it should have.
“But not right now,” he added gruffly. “You’re still half-dead on your feet and I’ve got work to finish before the meat spoils.”
He turned toward the back counter and picked up his sharpening stone. The steady scrape of metal filled the shop as he worked on one of his larger knives. You stayed by the front counter, watching the way his back and arms moved — powerful, efficient, every motion reminding you exactly what kind of man had just offered to claim you.
Every so often he glanced over at you, eyes dark and unreadable.
The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged. Heavy with everything neither of you was saying out loud.
After a while, Toji spoke without looking up from his work.
“You hungry?”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden normal question. “A little.”
He jerked his head toward the stairs. “There’s leftover stew from this morning in the pot upstairs. Heat it up if you want. Or stay down here. Doesn’t matter to me.”
You hesitated, then moved to help him organize the counter instead. Every time you passed close by, his arm would brush yours — deliberate, not accidental. Small reminders that the tension hadn’t gone anywhere.
The afternoon stretched on like that. Quiet work. Occasional glances. The weight of his presence never really leaving you.
By the time the sun had fully set and the village outside grew dark and quiet, the tension between you had only thickened. Lanterns flickered in distant windows, but inside the butcher shop everything felt hushed and intimate.
Toji locked the front door with a heavy click and killed most of the lanterns, leaving only a single low one burning near the stairs. The warm glow followed you both upstairs, casting long shadows across the wooden beams.
He grabbed a spare blanket from the chest and headed for the worn couch against the far wall without a word. The piece of furniture looked comically small beneath his massive frame as he tossed the blanket over it. Then he reached back and pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion.
Your mouth went dry.
Firelight danced over his bare back and shoulders — thick slabs of muscle shifting under scarred skin, powerful arms flexing as he folded the tunic. His waist tapered into a sharp V, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Every inch of him looked hard, battle-worn, and undeniably masculine. The sight made something low in your belly tighten.
You stood frozen in the bedroom doorway.
“Wait,” you said, voice barely louder than a whisper.
Toji glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised. The movement made the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex visibly.
You twisted your fingers in the hem of your blouse, cheeks already burning.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you offered shyly. “The bed is… big enough for both of us. I don’t mind sharing.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Toji slowly turned around to face you fully. The low firelight carved deep shadows across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every old scar, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing into his trousers. He looked even bigger like this — raw power barely contained, green eyes locked on you with dangerous intensity.
He took one slow step closer, then another.
“Careful what you offer me, runaway,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough. “I’m not the type to hold back.”
You swallowed hard but didn’t back away.
“I just… it doesn’t feel right making you sleep on that tiny thing after everything,” you murmured, eyes flicking involuntarily down his bare chest before snapping back up. “We’re supposed to be married. At least to everyone else.”
Toji stopped just inches away from you. The heat radiating from his body wrapped around you like a cloak. You could smell him — smoke, clean sweat, and that faint metallic trace that always clung to his skin. His sheer size made you feel small and fragile in comparison.
He tilted his head, studying you like prey.
“You offering to share my bed isn’t about being polite,” he murmured. “If I get in that bed with you, I’m not staying on my side. I’ll pull you against me. I’ll have my hands all over that soft little body. And if you keep looking at me with those wide, needy eyes…”
He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.
“I won’t be able to stop myself from spreading those pretty thighs and finding out exactly how wet pretending to be my wife has made you.”
Your breath hitched sharply. Heat flooded your face and pooled between your legs. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, but Toji noticed — of course he did. A dark, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.
He pulled back just enough to look at your face again, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.
“I’m not gentle,” he continued, voice dropping even lower. “I fuck hard. I take what I want. And right now, I want to ruin that shy little runaway who dropped to her knees at my door and turned my whole life upside down.”
His hand came up, knuckles lightly dragging down the side of your neck, over your racing pulse, then lower until they brushed the neckline of your blouse. Not quite touching skin, but close enough to make you shiver.
“So think very carefully before you offer again,” he warned. “Because once I’m in that bed, the only pretending left will be how long you can keep quiet while I’m buried inside you.”
The air felt too thick to breathe.
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he watched the effect his words had on you.
“Still want to share a bed with me… wife?”
Toji’s words hung heavy in the air.
You didn’t answer with words.
You looked up at him, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat, and gave a small, shy nod.
That was all it took.
Toji’s control snapped. A low, almost feral sound rumbled in his chest as he moved. In one fluid motion he scooped you up, one thick arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your breath caught at how easily he carried you — his biceps flexing hard against your body, the heat of his bare chest pressing into your side.
He carried you the few steps to the bed and laid you down on your back with surprising care, but the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. The mattress dipped deeply under his weight as he climbed over you, caging you in completely with his massive frame. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the firelight, leaving you in shadow beneath him.
“You a virgin?” he asked, voice low and rough, green eyes searching yours like he was looking for any hesitation.
You nodded again, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the word almost reverent. His gaze darkened as it dragged slowly down your body. “Gonna have to take my time with you then. Can’t wreck this tight little virgin cunt on the first thrust.”
He kissed you deeply, tongue claiming your mouth in slow, filthy strokes while his rough hands explored every inch of you. He took his time peeling your clothes off — first tugging your blouse over your head, then sliding your skirt down your legs, and finally hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and dragging them off. When you were completely naked beneath him, he sat back on his heels and just stared, drinking in every inch of your exposed body like a man who’d been starving for weeks.
“So fucking small,” he muttered, almost to himself. His large hands ran up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin on the inside, then spread your legs wide open. “Look at this pretty virgin pussy… already glistening and I’ve barely touched you.”
The cool air hit your wet folds and you shivered. Toji’s eyes were locked between your legs, dark and hungry, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He lowered himself between your spread thighs like a man on a mission. The first slow, hot drag of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit made your entire body jolt. Toji groaned deeply at your taste, the sound vibrating straight through you.
“Sweet as hell,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Could eat this pussy for hours.”
Then he devoured you.
His tongue worked in slow, broad strokes, licking every inch of your soaked folds before focusing on your swollen clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue while two thick fingers teased your entrance, circling and pressing but not pushing in yet. When you started whimpering and rolling your hips, he finally pushed one thick finger inside you — careful, but relentless.
“So goddamn tight,” he growled against your pussy, the vibration making your toes curl. “This little hole is gonna fight my cock the whole way in.”
He curled his finger slowly, searching, until he found that spongy spot that made your back arch. He rubbed it firmly while sucking harder on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the quiet bedroom — slick, filthy, and loud. Your thighs started trembling around his head as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.
“Toji— oh gods—”
He didn’t let up. He ate you out like he was starving for it — messy, hungry, and completely focused on pulling every sound out of you. He added a second finger, stretching you open carefully, scissoring them while his tongue flicked fast and firm over your clit. The pressure built unbearably fast.
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your back arched clean off the bed as you came hard on his face with a broken, sobbing cry of his name. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, pulsing wildly.
Toji licked you through every wave, slow and thorough, drawing out every last tremor until you were twitching and oversensitive, whimpering softly. Only then did he pull back. His chin and lips were shiny with your slick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at your flushed, panting face.
Then he shoved his trousers down.
His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, veined, and longer than anything you’d ever imagined. The flushed head was already leaking steadily.
“See this?” he said, stroking himself slowly. “This is gonna stretch you wide open, baby. But I’ll make it fit.”
He climbed back over you, pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed. He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down your drenched folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass.
“Deep breaths,” he warned. “Gonna go slow.”
He pushed in.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply, a high-pitched whimper escaping you as just the thick head popped inside. “Ah—! Toji… it’s so big…”
Toji groaned, jaw clenched tight as he fought the urge to slam forward. “Fuck— so tight,” he hissed. “Relax for me, baby. Let me in.”
You whimpered softly, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “It burns… but— ah— don’t stop…”
He worked himself in inch by slow, careful inch. Every time you tensed, he stopped, leaning down to kiss your neck or suck on your tits until you loosened again. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the restraint.
Halfway in, you let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering. “Oh gods… I can feel you so deep already…”
Toji looked down at the bulge already forming in your lower belly. “Shit… look at that,” he groaned, pressing a big hand over the swell. “My cock’s barely halfway and I can already see it inside you.”
When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, you felt so full you could barely breathe. A broken whimper left your lips. “T-Toji… you’re all the way in… I feel so full…”
Toji stayed still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he kissed you slow and deep. “Good girl,” he praised, voice strained. “Taking every inch of my cock on your first time. Such a perfect little wife.”
When your whimpers turned into soft, needy moans, he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet drag of his thick cock against your walls made you cry out.
“Feel that?” he growled. “Feel how deep I am? Gonna breed this cunt so full tonight.”
“Ah—! Yes… I feel it,” you moaned, voice trembling. “It’s so deep… Toji—!”
His pace gradually picked up. The bed started creaking rhythmically as he fucked you harder, deeper. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth.
“Gonna fill you up,” he panted. “Pump this tight womb full of my cum until it takes. Want you walking around the village with my kid growing inside you. Everyone’s gonna know exactly who fucked you first.”
The filthy words sent you spiraling. “Please— Toji— I’m gonna—!” You came hard around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as you screamed his name, “Toji—! Ahh—!”
Toji snarled and fucked you through it, pace turning brutal. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed loudly.
“Fuck— gonna cum,” he groaned. “Gonna breed you— take it all—”
You whimpered and moaned beneath him, voice hoarse, “Cum inside me… please— fill me up—!”
He slammed in deep one final time and came with a long, guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after heavy pulse. There was so much it leaked out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him. Toji kept grinding deep, pushing every drop into your womb, hand pressing down on the bulge in your belly like he wanted to keep it all inside you.
You let out a soft, overwhelmed whimper at the feeling of being so full of him.
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat.
Then he leaned down, kissed you slow and possessive, and murmured against your lips:
“This cunt belongs to me.”
Toji stayed inside you for a while longer, gently grinding and kissing your neck, before he finally pulled out with a low groan. A thick trickle of his cum leaked from your abused hole onto the sheets. He looked down at the mess with dark satisfaction, then rolled onto his back and pulled you against his chest.
“Rest now,” he said quietly, voice rough but surprisingly gentle as he wrapped a heavy arm around you. “You’ve had a long day, runaway. Close your eyes.”
He pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, his large hand resting possessively on your lower belly.
“Go to sleep.”
-
You woke up to warmth.
A heavy, solid arm was draped across your waist, pinning you to a broad chest. Toji’s body was curled around yours from behind, one thick thigh wedged between your legs. His breathing was slow and deep, but the moment you shifted even slightly, his grip tightened possessively.
The room was still dim, early morning light just beginning to creep through the small window. Your body ached — a deep, satisfying soreness between your thighs, faint bruises on your hips from his fingers, and the unmistakable sticky warmth of his cum still leaking out of you.
You tried to move again, but Toji’s low, sleepy growl stopped you.
“Stay,” he muttered against the back of your neck, voice rough with sleep. His hand slid down to cup your lower belly, pressing lightly. “Not done holding you yet.”
Heat rushed to your face. You stayed still, letting him pull you tighter against him. His cock — already half-hard again — rested heavy against your ass.
After a few quiet minutes, Toji sighed and finally loosened his grip. He rolled you onto your back so he could look down at you. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy-lidded, but the smirk on his scarred mouth was fully awake.
“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly. His hand stayed on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles. “How’re you feeling?”
You shifted, wincing a little at the soreness. “Full… and sore,” you admitted softly.
Toji’s smirk widened into something darker, more satisfied. He leaned down and kissed you — slow and lazy at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours. When he pulled back, he dragged his hand lower, fingers brushing through the mess between your thighs.
“Still leaking my cum,” he murmured, almost proud. “Good.”
He pushed two thick fingers back inside you, slow and careful, fucking his dried cum deeper. You whimpered, hips twitching.
“Toji—”
“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your temple. “Not fucking you again right now. You’re too sore.” He kept his fingers inside you anyway, lazy and possessive. “Just keeping you full.”
You stayed like that for a while — his fingers buried inside you, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along your neck and shoulder. The morning was quiet except for the occasional creak of the bed and your soft sounds.
Eventually he pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while watching your face.
“Breakfast,” he said simply. “Then we open the shop.”
He got up first, completely naked and shameless. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the powerful lines of his back, the flex of his ass and thighs as he moved. He caught you looking and chuckled.
“Keep staring like that and I will bend you over the table downstairs,” he warned.
You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.
He tossed you one of his clean shirts and a fresh skirt. While you dressed, he pulled on his usual trousers and tank top, tying his blood-stained apron around his waist.
Before you left the bedroom, he caught your wrist and pulled you close one more time. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“Last night wasn’t pretend,” he said quietly, eyes serious. “Not for me. You’re mine. Understand?”
You swallowed and whispered, “I understand.”
He kissed you again — hard, claiming — then rested his forehead against yours for a second.
“Good.”
He led you downstairs, his hand firm on your lower back the entire way.
The village was waking up outside. And for the first time since you’d run away, you didn’t feel like running anymore.
Toji unlocked the front door and flipped the sign while you tied on a clean apron. The morning air carried the smell of fresh bread from Mrs. Sato’s bakery and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. A few early customers began drifting toward the shop.
The first hour passed in a surprisingly calm rhythm. You helped weigh portions, wrap cuts of meat in clean paper, and hand them over with a shy smile. Toji stayed close the whole time — sometimes reaching past you for a knife, sometimes resting a hand on your waist as he moved behind you. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was marking his territory even when no one was watching.
Then the bell above the door rang again.
A tall, sun-tanned man with kind eyes and an easy, friendly smile stepped inside. He looked to be in his late twenties, with the strong build of someone who spent his days working the fields. He greeted Toji with a familiar nod.
“Morning, Fushiguro. The usual shoulder cut, please.” His gaze shifted to you behind the counter and softened with genuine interest. “You must be the new wife everyone’s been talking about. I’m Haru. I run the big farm past the mill.”
You returned his smile politely. “Nice to meet you, Haru.”
He watched as you carefully wrapped his order, your hands still a little clumsy with the butcher paper. “It’s good to see a new face around here,” he said warmly. “You seem really kind. Gentle. The kind of person who makes a place feel brighter just by being in it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly. “If you ever need anything — extra vegetables from the farm, help carrying something heavy, or just someone to talk to when things get quiet — my door’s always open. Wouldn’t want you feeling lonely so soon after moving in.”
You tilted your head, completely oblivious to any hidden meaning, and gave him a grateful smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before you could say anything else, the air behind you changed.
Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your hip, fingers digging in with clear possession as he pulled you back firmly against his chest. His other arm slid around your waist, locking you in place.
“She won’t be needing anything,” Toji said, his voice low and dangerously even. “I take care of my wife.”
Haru blinked, the friendly smile faltering as he finally registered the tension rolling off the butcher. “Of course. I was just… being neighborly.”
Toji’s grip on your hip tightened. “Neighborly is saying hello. The rest sounded like something else.”
The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Haru swallowed hard, quickly paid for his meat, and muttered a polite goodbye before leaving without another word. The door swung shut behind him with a soft jingle.
The second he was gone, Toji spun you around and backed you against the counter. His green eyes were dark, jaw clenched tight with barely-contained jealousy. One big hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip.
“You really didn’t notice?” he muttered, voice rough.
You shook your head, genuinely confused. “He was just being nice…”
Toji let out a short, irritated breath and leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “He wasn’t just being nice. He was testing the waters. Seeing if my wife might be open to something else. Offering you a soft place to land if you ever got tired of me.”
His other hand slid under your skirt, fingers brushing between your thighs and finding you still slick from the night before. You gasped softly as he pushed two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them slowly.
“Toji—”
“Mine,” he growled quietly against your ear, pumping his fingers in a lazy rhythm. “This pussy is mine. You are mine. I don’t want you smiling so sweetly at other men. Understand?”
You whimpered, clutching his shoulders as pleasure sparked through your still-sensitive body. “I understand…”
He kissed you then — hard, possessive, and hungry — while his fingers continued their slow, deliberate strokes. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still dark with jealousy.
“Next time someone talks to you like that,” he said, voice low, “you let me handle it.”
He reluctantly withdrew his fingers, straightened your skirt, and stepped back like nothing had happened. But the tension in his shoulders and the dark look in his eyes remained.
“Back to work,” he said gruffly, still clearly worked up.
You nodded, legs shaky, heart racing, and turned back to the counter.
The rest of the morning passed with Toji staying even closer than before — a constant, heavy, possessive presence at your side. Every time another customer entered, his hand found your waist or lower back, silently reminding everyone (and you) exactly who you belonged to.
The rest of the morning dragged on with the same heavy tension.
Every time a male customer stepped through the door, Toji’s demeanor shifted. His hand would find your waist, your hip, or the small of your back — a silent, unmistakable claim. He answered questions in short, clipped tones and watched the men with sharp, warning eyes. You tried to focus on wrapping orders and smiling politely, but the constant possessiveness was becoming impossible to ignore.
By early afternoon, when the shop finally quieted again, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
You turned to him while he was wiping down the counter.
“Toji,” you said softly, “you’re being too much.”
He paused, setting the rag down slowly. When he looked at you, his green eyes had gone dark.
“Too much?” he repeated, voice low and deceptively calm.
You swallowed but stood your ground. “Yes. The constant touching, the glaring at every man who even looks at me... They’re just customers.”
Toji stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he slowly walked around the counter, backing you up until your hips hit the edge. He caged you in with his massive frame, one hand braced beside you on the wood, the other coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“You think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Tell me something, wife… What kind of husband would I be if I let other men think they can have access to what’s mine?”
His voice was rough, low, and dangerous. “If I smiled and stepped aside while they flirted with you? While they offered you help and soft words like they had any right to you?”
He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear. “I’d be a fucking joke. A weak man who doesn’t know how to protect what belongs to him. And I’m not weak.”
His free hand slid under your skirt without warning, fingers pushing between your thighs. You were bare underneath. The moment his calloused fingertips brushed your folds, he groaned softly — low and rough — when he found you already wet again.
“Already soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Complaining about me being too possessive, but your pussy is dripping the second I touch you.”
“Toji—” you whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from the night before.
He curled his fingers slowly, deliberately, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.
You moaned, loud and broken, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders. Your legs trembled around his wrist as pleasure sparked hot and fast through your body.
“You can tell me I’m too much,” he growled against your throat, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “But we both know the truth. You like it when I act like this. You like knowing no one else can touch you. You like being mine.”
His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the quiet shop. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook.
“Ah— Toji… please—” you moaned, voice cracking. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to him. He took full advantage, sucking and biting along your skin while his fingers drove deeper, faster.
You were right there — teetering on the edge, muscles tightening around his thick fingers — when he suddenly pulled his hand away completely.
You let out a desperate, needy whine, hips chasing his fingers uselessly. Your core throbbed, aching and empty.
“Toji…!” you whimpered, voice hoarse and frustrated, eyes glassy with unshed tears of need. “Please— I was so close…”
Toji smirked, dark and satisfied, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm. He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were — coated in your slick right up to his knuckles.
“Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
You obeyed instantly, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His green eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal. “Look at you… so fucking eager. Whining because I stopped, sucking my fingers like you’d do anything for my cock right now.”
He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your own tongue. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged.
“You can complain about me being possessive all you want,” he said, voice dark and low, “but your body doesn’t lie. This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”
He suddenly lifted you onto the counter with ease, as if you weighed nothing. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs as he shoved your skirt all the way up to your waist in one rough motion, baring your dripping pussy completely. He stepped between your spread thighs, his broad body forcing your legs wider apart until your knees were nearly touching your shoulders.
His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh with unmistakable ownership. With his other hand, he freed his cock — thick, heavy, and already throbbing. The veined shaft glistened as he stroked himself once, slowly, eyes locked on your exposed, glistening cunt.
“Since you think I’m too possessive,” he said, voice rough and dangerous, “I’m going to remind you exactly why I am.”
He rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.
“Toji… please—”
Without another word, he pushed in with one deep, powerful thrust.
You cried out sharply, back arching hard off the counter as the thick head forced its way inside, stretching you wide open. The sudden, overwhelming fullness stole your breath. Toji groaned deeply, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke, his hips flush against your ass.
“Fuck… still so tight,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure. “Even after I filled you last night. This greedy little cunt keeps sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He started fucking you hard and deep, the heavy wooden counter creaking loudly under the force of every brutal thrust. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the empty shop as he claimed you right there in the middle of the day.
“Mine,” he snarled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave another dark mark. “Say it.”
“I’m yours— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, voice breaking as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.
He fucked you even harder, hips snapping forward with powerful, punishing strokes. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, loud and filthy. One of his big hands reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, tight circles.
“That’s right,” he panted, breath hot against your ear. “My wife. My pussy. No one else gets to look at you the way I do. No one else gets to touch you. No one else even gets to fucking think about you.”
Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your walls fluttering around his thick cock with every deep thrust. The counter shook beneath you. Your tits bounced wildly inside your blouse with the force of his movements.
He suddenly leaned back slightly, gripping your thighs and spreading you even wider as he drove into you. The new angle made him hit even deeper, the bulge in your lower belly becoming visible with every thrust.
“Look at that,” he groaned, eyes fixed on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you. “You’re taking me so fucking deep. This tight cunt was made for my cock.”
You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you. “Toji—! It’s too deep— ahh—!”
“You can take it,” he growled, fucking you harder. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — fast, violent, and overwhelming. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing as waves of intense pleasure tore through your body. You screamed his name, thighs shaking violently around his waist.
Toji snarled like a beast, his rhythm turning erratic and savage as he fucked you through your climax. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release, hips slamming against yours with wet, filthy sounds.
But he didn’t cum.
Instead, he suddenly slowed his thrusts, grinding deep and slow, keeping you right on the edge of overstimulation. His breathing was ragged, sweat glistening on his chest and neck.
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss while still buried deep inside you.
“You’re not done yet,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark and full of promise. “We’re nowhere near finished.”
Before you could catch your breath, Toji pulled out of you with a wet, obscene sound. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing, already missing the thick stretch of him. But he didn’t give you any time to protest.
In one swift, powerful motion, he flipped you over onto your stomach across the counter. Your chest pressed against the cool, smooth surface, your cheek resting on the wood as he yanked your hips back and up, forcing your ass high in the air. Your skirt was still bunched uselessly around your waist, leaving you completely exposed — bent over like a whore in the middle of his shop.
Toji kicked your legs wider apart with his foot, then pressed one large hand firmly between your shoulder blades, pinning you down hard against the counter.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice thick with raw lust. “Bent over my counter like a proper little wife. Ass up, pussy dripping for me.”
He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing your swollen, abused pussy completely. Without any warning, he spat directly onto your folds — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your clit and dripping down. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation, your hips twitching.
Toji groaned at the sight and used two thick fingers to rub his spit into your pussy, mixing it with your own slick, pushing it inside you. Then he brought his palm down hard on your ass with a loud, resounding smack.
The sharp sting bloomed hot across your skin. You cried out, jolting forward on the counter.
“Stay still,” he ordered, voice rough. He smacked the other cheek even harder, watching the way your flesh jiggled and turned pink under his hand. “This ass is mine too. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”
You moaned helplessly, pushing back against him despite the sting. Toji lined up the thick head of his cock again and thrust back inside you in one brutal, deep stroke.
The new angle made him feel impossibly bigger, reaching even deeper. You moaned loudly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden counter as he immediately started fucking you hard and fast.
The counter creaked loudly under the force of his powerful thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the empty shop. Toji’s hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke like he was using you.
“Fuck— this pussy feels even better like this,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, watching the way your flesh rippled red under his palm. “So fucking wet. You like being bent over and used like this, don’t you?”
“Yes— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool counter, eyes fluttering shut. Every brutal thrust made your breasts press harder into the wood, your sensitive nipples dragging against it.
Toji reached forward and fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he fucked you even harder. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. He spat on your pussy again, right where his thick cock was stretching you open, and used his thumb to rub the saliva into your swollen clit.
“Such a messy little wife,” he panted, smacking your ass repeatedly between thrusts — sharp, stinging slaps that made you clench tighter around him. “Dripping all over my counter. Taking my cock so deep like you were made for it. Look at this greedy cunt swallowing every inch.”
Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure. The combination of his brutal pace, the stinging heat on your ass, and the filthy words pushed you right to the edge again.
Toji leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he kept pounding into you without mercy.
“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he growled, smacking your ass one more time, hard enough to make you yelp.
“You—! It belongs to you— Toji—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and desperate.
He snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the counter shaking beneath you. His hand slipped between your legs again, rubbing your clit fast and rough.
You came with a broken scream, your walls clamping down hard around his thick cock, thighs shaking violently as intense pleasure tore through you.
Toji groaned loudly as your orgasm triggered his own. He slammed in deep one final time and came hard, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. He kept grinding into you slowly, pushing every drop as deep as possible, his hips pressed tight against your reddened ass.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the shop were your heavy breathing and the faint drip of his cum leaking out of you onto the floor.
Toji stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back and kissing the back of your neck possessively.
“Still think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured against your skin, voice dark and satisfied.
You could only whimper in response, too overwhelmed to form words. Your body was trembling, pressed against the counter, pussy still fluttering weakly around his thick cock. Every small shift made you feel the mess he’d left inside you — warm, sticky, and so full it was leaking down your thighs.
Toji let out a low, rumbling sound of approval. He stayed deep for a long moment, grinding slow and lazy, pushing his cum even deeper as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any of it escaping. His large hand smoothed over the reddened skin of your ass where he’d spanked you, almost soothing now, before giving one last firm squeeze.
“Answer me,” he said quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“…No,” you breathed, voice hoarse and shaky. “I don’t.”
He hummed, clearly pleased. He finally pulled out slowly, watching with dark eyes as a thick trail of his cum dripped from your abused hole onto the floor. The sight made him groan softly.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” he muttered. He used two fingers to push some of the leaking cum back inside you, then straightened your skirt with surprising care.
Toji helped you stand on shaky legs, turning you to face him. He cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing your flushed cheek as he studied your expression — eyes glassy, lips swollen, hair messy.
“You’re going to feel me for the rest of the day,” he said, voice low. “Every step. Every time you move. I want you thinking about who fucked you over this counter.”
He leaned in and kissed you — slower this time, but still deep and possessive. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.
“Clean yourself up a little,” he told you, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “We’ve still got half a day left.”
Toji stepped back, tucking himself away and adjusting his apron like nothing had happened, though the dark, satisfied glint in his eyes remained.
You stood there on unsteady legs, heart still racing, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly leaking down your inner thighs.
And somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.
a/n: aren't the old hags kinda iconic? lmk what you think and if you'd be interested in a part two! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
toji came through the door, taking his gym shoes off immediately. you were on the couch, blanket pulled to your chin. as you heard his heavy footsteps, you looked over the arm of the couch, meeting his own dark, mischief filled eyes. “no.” you said, beginning to sit up. “no, toji. get back.” you smiled, putting a hand out to distance him. “you didn’t miss me?” he said, a sleazy smile on his face. he stalked closer to you, looking through his eyelashes at your form. “don’t run from it, baby. come feel on me.”
before you could protest, he braced both of his hands beside your head, and laid his body weight on you. you smiled, trying to push him away, but ultimately failing. “toji, you smell.” you said, pressing your hands against his chest. “oh, i missed you baby. mm.. couldn’t stop thinking of you.” he murmured against your neck. “i was doing hip thrusts today. i thrusted how much you weigh.” he said, rubbing himself against you, almost like a dog trying to put its scent on something. “that’s when i thought of you.”
you felt something poking your inner thigh, and you scoffed. “you’re nasty.” you said. “i want you.” he mumbled, sitting up between your thighs. he took your hand, and guided it to his heavy bulge. “i trained. just for you.” he said, his voice in a mockingly pleading tone. he moaned as your hand kneaded his bulge, and he looked down at it, watching as you did so. he looked back down at you, biting his lip. “aren’t you proud of me? trained hard as shit so you don’t have to do any work when we’re fucking.” he said, pushing his damp hair off of his forehead.
he grabbed your hips, pulling them closer, so your covered crotch was flush against his bulge. he gave one slow thrust, and smiled. “i know you feel that.” he said, looking down as he began to slowly grind against you. “you don’t have to do anything, yknow. i can do all the work. like i usually do.” he teased, putting wet kisses all over the side of your neck. he grabbed your waist, and effortlessly maneuvered you, so you were straddling him. “it’s okay, baby. you can act like you don’t want it, but i know you do.” he cooed, running his hand down your stomach. he smirked, biting his lip as he noticed you trying to be subtle, as you “adjusted” your position on him.
“see? that’s my girl, always wanting this dick. it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to hide it.”
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