Dark!Toji Fushiguro x reader
Intruder
(Dark content, noncon/dubcon, threats of gun violence)
finally completed the toji fic hope yall like it~
(Yandere, non con, dubcon, breaking/entering, attempted plan to murder, etc, etc)
Living near the countryside has desensitized you to the thumps and crashes you’d hear at night. In the beginning you’d be paranoid, laying in your bed for hours before gathering the courage to step out of the room, trusty bat in hand, only to find a stray cat staring back, right beside an open window. Nowadays, you’re cooly shooing away whatever creature that finds their way in your home. Mostly it’s cats, sometimes you’d get the occasional bird or racoon.
The situation has happened so many times that you aren’t even surprised to hear the soft rattle that comes from your kitchen tonight. You’re already moving, rousing from your soft bed, grabbing your trusty broom ready to scare away whatever creature you’d find scurrying about your kitchen floor. A rat, most likely.
But the thing rustling through your fridge is no rodent, and you don’t recognize this man.
It doesn’t occur to you that you’re being robbed until half a second later. Mainly because of how casual this bizarre situation is. He’s rifling through your food like it’s normal and you’re the weirdo carrying the broom.
“Damn, there’s nothing here. Do you not eat or something?”
You assume he’s thinking out loud, but he glances back at you like he expected you there.
“I-I haven’t gotten the chance to go shopping this week,” You find yourself replying.
He gives a hum, slamming the fridge shut, standing to his full height and you’re instantly aware of how ill-prepared you are to fight him. He’s huge, not just in height. He looks better fit for a bodybuilder than a run-of-the-mill robber.
You left your phone upstairs. Why the fuck did you leave your phone upstairs?
You lower your broom, trying to make yourself seem as little threatening as you can. Your mind is running too fast to conjure any real thoughts, but the part of you that hasn’t completely broken down yet is telling you it’s better to avoid any confrontation. A distraction.
“There’s a TV in the next room,” You numbly point towards the living room, “It’s brand new….would probably go for a thousand.”
He barely seems interested, eyes flicking to glance over before going to you.
“That’s nice,” He waves your offer off, “But I’m not here to steal your stuff.”
“You’re…you’re not?” You reply weakly.
There’s a grin on his face, a touch away from being maniacal. His hand is brushing his hip, lightly playing with the hilt of a gun.
Oh.
Maybe it’s because you’re still half asleep, your brain isn’t working as efficiently, it takes you a bit longer to process his intentions. When it finally does, the realization hits you like a train. Your mouth gets dry, it suddenly feels so cold. Fear. You’ve never felt fear like this before.
You don’t notice the steps you take backward. He does. The man groans in something you can only discern as annoyance.
“Don’t do that,” He frowns, “Come on, I’m trying to be nice here. I can’t chase you around the house, I'm supposed to make it look like an accident.”
His nonchalance is terrifying. Like he’s done this before. He probably has. How many people has he murdered in their own homes? How many bodies does it take to be so calm around imminent death?
You don’t have time to wonder, not when something he said catches your attention.
“Were…were you hired to come here?”
His mouth twitches and it looks like he’s thinking. Finally, he shrugs, like the information he gives won’t really do anything to harm him.
“Yeah, some rich folk in the city. Can’t remember their names for shit though.”
Someone had a vendetta against you? Enough to want to kill you? Your mind is running through every single name, every quarrel you’ve had. Family members, friends, aquantinances. Nothing enough comes up.
Nothing is supposed to. Only crazy people hire hitmen.
And hitmen are even crazier.
You take another step back.
He takes another forward.
You won’t be able to fight him, and trying to run will just piss him off. You know you can’t reason with him. If he’s come this far, if he looks so bored, nothing is going to stop him from actually killing you. Pathetically, you try anyway, if only to lengthen what’s left of your life.
“Please just-”
“Don’t start begging,” He groans, cutting you off, “That’s just annoying.”
“Isn’t there anything else you want,” You desperately say, “Anything? That-that isn’t…”
The hitman shrugs, “I mean, if you wanna’ try to pay me off, you can.”
“How-how much was the…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, but he seems to get your point.
The amount makes your eyes widen. Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the man. He sighs, cracking his neck.
“Thought so,” He says, reaching to pull something out of his back, “Sorry, Princess, ‘Nothing against you, promise. Gotta’ pay rent somehow, right?”
“I-I can pay!” You interrupt, “Really! I can pay.”
He pauses, tilting his head. He’s probably thinking you’re pathetic but you don’t give a shit. The money will take a huge chunk out of your savings, but you could pay. You could live.
“With-with interest?”
He grins, “Now you’re speaking my language.”
He leans away, walking towards the counter. You still don’t move. Stiff. He seems to notice.
“Don’t be like that.” He chides, the danger in his voice fades, as though it was never there in the first place, “I’m trying to be civil now, aright? Anyway, let’s talk. How do you want to pay?”
“Whatever way you want,” You say numbly, “But…how-how am I supposed to know you won’t just go back to the person and ask them to ramp up his price?”
You hated how clinical you were talking about your own damn life, but you’re too emotionally exhausted to do anything about it, let alone try to put any sort of emotion behind your words.
“They won’t be able to find me.” A confident grin, that doesn’t make you feel any less uncertain. “Don’t worry about it.”
He cocks his head, studying you for a second.
“You look different from the photos I saw,” He’s saying, not necessarily saying them to you, “They don’t do you justice.”
You don’t say anything, fiddling with your fingers, hoping this creep will just give you his card and leave.
“Toji,” He suddenly says.
Your head snaps up.
“My name,” He says slowly, grinning all the while, “And yours?”
“...You already know,” You reply warily.
“I do. Say it.” This time his voice comes out sharper.
You comply anyway, still too scared to face the man. His relaxed demeanor returns and Toji says your name a few times, like he’s trying it out.
He’s looking around your house now, and you feel like it’s the first time he’s seeing it because it looks like he’s admiring it. Fingers tap on your counter.
“Nice place you got here,” Toji says.
You don’t say anything. He doesn’t really care, not until he gives you a sharp look, calculating.
“Sharin’ it with anyone?”
Oh. Oh. You did not like where this conversation was going.
“...I do,” You’re saying, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as strained as you think it is, “...With my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Toji repeats, dark eyes flicking back to you in interest, “Where is he?”
“Overseas,”
His grin widens, “So he’ll be gone for a while, right?”
“No, he’s-he’s coming back tonight-”
“Hm, but you just said he was overseas?” You hate his smile, how cocky he looks, but it’s washed away by the dread of him slowly sauntering up to you.
Unconsciously, you press yourself against the wall, hoping it can suck you in, and you can hide forever.
Toji reaches you before that can happen.
His touch is light, not gentle, but in the way that you can sense he isn’t really interested in touching you. Rather he’s just moving his hands unintentionally, around your face, your lips.
“You’re real cute, anyone tell you that lately?” His voice dropped, losing the lightness of his tone. You don’t realize he wants an answer until he presses on your jaw. It hurts.
“No…” You mumble.
Toji tilts his head, looking oddly satisfied with your obedience. You wondered if you should fight him off, if you should at least try. At the very most, your pride would still be intact. You could say you went down screaming.
“No boyfriend, huh,” Toji tsks, “You must be very lonely, in this big, empty house. Like an isolated housewife” His voice is low, and patronizing, and you feel like you’re being mocked but you can handle that. Tolerate it.
But you can see the change in his eyes. The interest. Once again, you weakly open your mouth.
“The money-”
“Later,” Toji says huskily, “It can wait.”
His lips are soft, but uncared for. You can feel the roughness of them as he glides them across yours. You think he’s thinking about holding back, being gentle, but it quickly disappears along with the lack of control. He’s rough, practically pressing you against the wall. You can feel his chest against yours. His shirt’s thin, it’d be no different if he didn’t have it on, but you think you prefer this. The barrier, no matter how papery it was.
He’s aggressive now, using his teeth, biting your lips until they’re raw, irritated. His hands are losing the domesticity, running fingers up and down your body. You fought back once, just once, with a tight grip on his even stronger wrist, nails digging into skin, hoping it’ll hurt. There was an irritated growl, and you hear the metal click of something being set off. After that, you let him have his fill.
When he pulls away, there’s a delirious look in his eyes. He’s panting, out of breath, excited. You’re panting too. You’re trembling. He doesn’t notice, more likely, he doesn’t care.
He’s sucking on your neck like a man in need. Wanton. His teeth are sharp, and you flinch when he bites down, just enough to leave a bruise.
“You’re pretty nonchalant about this, huh?” Toji casually asks, like he wasn’t making you dig your back against the wall. It’s a rhetorical question, at least you think it is. You find yourself answering anyway. To distract yourself.
“I don’t want you to hurt me.”
You wonder if you’re being too honest, but he’s laughing against your neck. Amused.
“Smart girl,” He breathes in your ear.
“If-if I do this with you,” You start, gaining his attention, “Will you leave?”
You can’t delude yourself anymore. You know what he wants, but this can’t be for nothing. It can’t. He has to promise that he’ll go. He can take his damn money and go. You can pick the pieces you sold later, when he’s out of your life, out of your house.
He smiles. You can feel it.
“Yes,” He finally says, “I’ll go.”
You both know his lying. You will yourself to believe it anyway.
His hands crawl underneath your shirt, exploring and reaching at everything he could possibly reach. You aren’t wearing a bra. He hums his approval in your ear. His hands are cold as they glide over your body, making you twitch when he reaches your tits. He gives a rough squeeze. You yelp.
“My bad,” Toji slurred. He’s not apologetic, but his movements are less erratic now.
You’re complying. At least, you think you are, with your stiff body, not pushing, not fighting. But something breaks when he’s manhandling you like this. Maybe it’s your pride, dignity, maybe both.
It doesn’t matter, not when the end result is still the tears dripping down your cheeks, stinging your skin.
He pulls away when you shudder out a sob, observing you. You wonder if he’s disgusted, maybe your tears discouraged him.
Your hopes dissipate when something hard presses against your thigh.
“Fuck, I’m a terrible person,” He’s laughing, like this is a shared joke between you and him. Like this is funny, “That shouldn’t have turned me on.”
It’s not funny, but you don’t dare say anything.
You want to feel relief when he’s bored of your shirt, tugging it down, but it’s quickly replaced by even more dread when he’s moving to your shorts. Your bottoms might as well have been made from paper, with how easily he rips them off. He lets out a happy sigh when he sees you aren’t wearing underwear. You just fester in your humiliation.
“Aw, don’t be like that,” He coos when you stiffly look away, “I’ll play nice, princess. Be soft and sweet.”
You should be grateful that he lets you hide in his chest as he traces light circles on your heat. You’re already wet. Humiliation is throttling.
He doesn’t lie. He’s gentle, at the very least. He thumbs your clit with a slow rhythm, constrained. It makes your hips bump into him. He laughs again. Every time you think about fighting him off, you think about the gun in his hands. You think about a bullet in your head. Your blood soaking the tile floor.
So you close your eyes and you let him, but you tell yourself that you won’t give in.
You fail at that too.
It’s the hushed gasp that causes him to really pay attention. He pauses.
“Ya’ like that, Princess?” As if to underline his question, thumbs your clit a bit more intently. It’s a lot harder to stifle your noises now that he’s trying to make you loud.
You hate it. You hate him. You hate how good he makes you feel. It’s a never-ending high, getting you closer but never close enough.
His fingers suddenly retreat, and whatever he builds up leaves with him. You sigh.
“Can’t let you have all the fun, can we?” Toji sneers at your perceived disappointment.
If it were anyone else you would have glared, but today, you timidly look away, just when he starts to unbuckle his pants. He seems to respect his clothes a bit more than yours. You don’t hear the rough sound of fabric tearing, just as he taps your cheek.
“Deep breaths okay, Princess?”
His statement makes you want to laugh. It almost sounds like he cared about you. Still, you unwillingly take his advice, just as something hot and thick lines up at your entrance. Your eyes widen, momentary panic makes you forget about the gun.
“No-no please don’t-!”
He harshly covers your mouth, just as he pushes himself inside. You give a muffled whine. He just gives a breathy hiss.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He groans, as you choke on a scream. He has the graciousness to let you adjust to him. He rocks back and forth, letting his cock rub against your walls.
“So fucking good. Goddamn,” He huffs out a laugh, “Can’t believe that ‘boyfriend’ of yours gets this sweet pussy every night.”
You sob at his filthy praise, and yet, your body reacts. Your cunt clamps onto him like a vice as he stretches you out. Right to the hilt.
He starts moving eventually. Slow and steady, as he presses you into the wall. His hands find your tits again, roughly palming them as your squeaks of discomfort turn to unwilling moans. You find yourself growing even wetter, much to your dismay.
He seems to sense that too. His lecherous grin grows even wider. The scar tugs on his lips.
“Aw, you do like me.” He teases.
You glare at him. In turn, Toji slams his cock back into your battered cunt, extinguishing your look of disdain. You whine into his hand. He hums.
“Too much, baby? Or not enough?” He’s so fucking delusional. Why is he acting like you enjoy this? This is a special kind of hell, one concocted just for you. Where he is your jailer.
But he’s right. It’s not enough. It’s not enough because you’re stuck in that limbo yet again, but it’s okay because you’d rather die than fall apart by his hands.
He picks up the pace. You gasp, unused to the roughness of his touch. You still hold yourself back, telling yourself it’s not enough, it’s not enough. Your spine arches, despite the way you try to control your body, forcing yourself not to react.
It doesn’t work. It’s a laughable attempt at some type of control. He makes it worse by reaching down to thumb your puffy clit.
You don’t last much longer after that. Your orgasm breaks you, shattering you on the floor as you let out the loudest scream. It’s almost painful. You can feel it rupture through your bones, your skin. Toji doesn’t have the decency even to let up, fucking you through it, carrying you from one high to the next peak.
He crushes himself into you as he cums, grunting in your ear. You can feel the implosion inside of you, painting your insides white with him. The sudden warmth draws another reluctant whine out of your lips.
You’d stop supporting your own wieght a while ago, with only him to keep you upright. No longer interested in holding up your weight, Toji lets you sink to the ground with jelly legs. His cock slips out of you, wet and dripping. Content, he tucks it back into his pants.
The power imbalance is more apparent than ever. Dazed, you can admit to yourself that he’s pretty. Rugged, pieces of himself that he clearly put back together. His smile is nefarious as he gazes at you. His smile is gone, but there’s a satisfied look in his eyes. A tiger that’s sated but not yet full. You avert your gaze, feeling your tears well up again.
“Think you can get up?”
“No,” You honestly reply.
He laughs, leaning down to pick you up, assembling the pieces of you in his arms. He’s so gentle; for some reason, it makes it worse. Out of sheer exhaustion, you allow your head to rest against his broad chest.
The fan in your room is still spinning as he carries you toward your bed. You feel his hands leave your back as you drop on the soft pillows. You don’t know what you’re expecting, but he follows suit, shuffling under the covers after you.
You shift, turning on your side, hoping he won’t force you to cuddle with him. Surprisingly, he relents, moving his attention to something nestled in the covers. Your phone is taken from its resting spot, and placed somewhere behind him.
“That’s my-”
“I know. I’m gonna keep this just in case you get cold feet and do something neither of us will appreciate.”
“I won’t.” You whisper.
He hums, draping a large arm around your body, drawing you into his chest. The stilted conversation dulls and you’re forced to feel his breathing tickle your neck. You’re unnerved by how domestic this feels, how naturally Toji is able to crawl into your home, into your bed.
Despite your quickened heartbeat, you try your best to shut your eyes. You pray he’ll be gone in the morning.
The tightening of his arm tells you he won’t go away so easily.
“I just thought of something else I can use you for.” You can feel his grin on your neck.
“Keep your money.”
