makismei’s navi!
hi!! interactions are for 18+ only please! ^.^ thank you!
about mei! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ get to know me?
masterlist! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ last updated: 2025 jan 5
— interacts from @kenmei
almost home

JVL
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Kiana Khansmith
trying on a metaphor

pixel skylines
Mike Driver
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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izzy's playlists!
occasionally subtle

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YOU ARE THE REASON

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Sade Olutola
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Stranger Things
Peter Solarz
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from Indonesia
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@makismei
makismei’s navi!
hi!! interactions are for 18+ only please! ^.^ thank you!
about mei! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ get to know me?
masterlist! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ last updated: 2025 jan 5
— interacts from @kenmei
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎. plug! / sugar-daddyㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ
he drives you to class but he have to suck your püssy before class?? you’re not mad now, aren’t you? even when you are running late? as long as daddy happy.
oral sex / cunnilingus (f! receiver). semi-public space. age-gap. cursing. dirty talk. daddy kink.
the late afternoon sun was doing that thing where it turned everything golden and lazy, the kind of light that made you want to take a nap instead of go to your dusk lecture on post-war architecture. but there you were, sprawled across the backseat of toji’s car like you owned it—which, technically, you didn’t, but you might as well have, given how much time you spent in here.
the leather was warm against the backs of your thighs, your skirt bunched up around your hips because he’d pushed it there five minutes ago and neither of you had done anything to fix it. your head was resting on a hoodie he’d left back here last week—his hoodie, the one that still smelled like him, like cedar and something darker, something that made your brain go fuzzy every time you breathed it in.
NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER — T.F.
[ SUM ] — college soccer coach toji has a secret admirer. but how secret is it when most of the highlights in the school paper are photos of him, instead of the players scoring goals?
[ TAGS ] — MDNI 18+ ONLY. nsfw. piv. raw. unprotected. age gap (mid 30s x early 20s). slight exhibitionism. HEAVY CREAMPIE. FAT BULGE. spanking. CUNNILINGUS. oral f!recieving. dacryphilia. reader kinda freaky. thick dark sexy HAPPY TRAIL. nudity. SHOWER SEX. SCENT KINK. pet names. spitting. wc: 19.1k
[ A/N ] — inspired by coach!toji from my fratkuna series. I was gooning too much whenever I’d mention him soooo
photo-journalism can mean many things. at its core though is documentation and being present. it’s about recording what happens so it doesn’t vanish into the noise of the world. and that’s what you’ve been doing since you started uni.
working for the school newspaper means covering everything that matters to the university. big events, games, and when you attend a school with a division 1 soccer team, that’s ranked the top of the country, it means your weekends are spent on the sidelines of the pitch. floodlights humming overhead, cleats tearing into the turf, and the air sharp with anticipation.
everyone’s eyes are on the match, on the players, the scoreline, and the inevitable victory. everyone’s, except yours.
your lens has a habit of drifting. and it always finds him on the sidelines, the head coach.
soft dom zuko and mean dom toph gang banging reader,,, walk with me now
adult zuko x f!reader x toph
warnings: 18+ nsfw, SMUT smut, heavy dom/sub power play, VERY mean!toph, sadistic!toph, softdom!zuko, gentle!zuko, brattysub!reader, masochist!reader, fem!reader, punishment, brat taming, spanking, hair pulling (a lot), face slapping, gagging, degradation, slut shaming (kinda), praise, nipple play, double penetration, eiffel tower (the position), some zuko x toph moments, zuko calls you angel, toph is really aggressive sorry i’m a slut okay
summary: 4k words of a filthy, perverted gang bang for this delicious request. this is FREAKED out so MINORS DNI and read all the tags guys!!
i moaned when i read this req, bless u anon.. i’m sorry if i got carried away with the tags this idea was too hot i couldn’t help myself
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“zukooo!” you ran to him, snuggling up into his side as he flipped through a novel, leaning back against the back of the couch in your bedroom. you clung to his waist tightly, innocently batting your lashes at him, crocodile tears filling the rim of your eyes.
he smiled at the sing song tone you called his name with, recognizing its meaning without even glancing up from his page. his arm looped around your shoulders, stroking your hair gently. “what trouble did you just get yourself into, hm?”
you shook your head vehemently, blinking so sweet you could fool anyone else. “i promise i didn’t—”
“where the fuck are you hiding!?”
you winced at toph’s voice ringing out in the hallway, holding onto him even tighter, looking up at him in panic.
he chuckled, finally closing his book to glance down at you, his fingers still threading through your hair, “so you messed with toph, huh? what did you do this time, pretty girl?”
“nothingg! pleasee, zu, talk her out of—”
“here you fucking are!” toph slammed the door open on both of you, fists clenched so hard you were afraid she’d draw blood with her fingernails.
oh, she was fuming.
you squirmed against zuko’s side, trying to use him as protection.
she angrily stepped over to where you both were, veins bulging out of her forehead as she glared down at you. “move, zuko. give her to me.”
“now now,” he replied airily, tenderly patting your head as you buried yourself further into his arms. “no need to take your frustrations out on her. whatever she did, i’m sure you can talk it out. look at her, so remorseful.”
you nodded, hugging him tighter.
toph only scoffed loudly, “oh you have no idea what she’s been up to all day.”
he hummed curiously, and you tensed, immediately looking up at him, “no wait i can—”
“shush now,” he commanded, his tone still gentle but with that firmness that always had you instantly obey. he turned his gaze to toph, “what did she do?”
you might as well just get up and go dig your own grave.
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as toph kept ranting to him about everything — and i mean, everything — you did to her, citing all your deeds like it was judgement day, you tried to discreetly slip out of his grasp before it was too late. you smiled nervously, “i’m thirsty, i’ll just go get some w—”
“sit.” they both barked at the same time, making you flinch. you shrunk in on yourself. if he got on her side, you were absolutely done for.
when toph was finished, he finally looked down at you, his earlier smile morphed into a disappointed frown. not mad, not hateful— just disappointed. and you always felt so guilty and small under that specific look.
he sighed, his arm leaving your shoulders, picking his novel up again. you whimpered at the loss, pathetically reaching for him to apologize, when a rough hand grabbed your hair from behind.
you yelped in pain, clutching at your scalp as she dragged you on the floor. you swore you felt hairs getting tugged right at the root. “t-toph please—”
“not one more fucking word from you, stupid brat.”
she hauled you up with only one hand on the collar of your neck, like how a cat would grab its baby by the scruff, then threw you on the bed, where you landed with a small “oof”.
you swallowed nervously, glancing between an irritated stripping toph and an unbothered reading zuko.
“every day,” toph’s raised voice made you flinch, as she slid her top off over her head. “you test my patience with your bratty shenanigans. i forgive you, more than once, at zuko’s request. and what does that get me?”
she hooked her fingers under the waistband of her pants, feeling up her belt thoughtfully, before deciding against discarding it. you gulped.
she tossed the belt next to your pillow, stepping off her trousers, and finally getting on the bed. your attempt at crawling away didn’t even last a millisecond, before a calloused hand dragged you back to her from the ankle.
she crawled on top of you and pinned your wrists to the top of your head, glaring daggers into you even with her sightless eyes.
“it gets me a bold, fearless girl who thinks she can get away with anything. you always behaved so well when i regularly punished you, now look at you, fucking disgrace. see, zuko? this is what you’re enabling.”
you heard a book shutting. hope filled your heart.
you breathed out a small relieved sigh when you heard him walking over, tilting your face to try and spot him.
she huffed, sensing your distraction, and gave you an annoyed slap to the cheek — not her punishing ones yet, just one to alert you —, earning a pained whimper from you.
“eyes on me, slut.” she spat, disgusted, “he’s not here to save you.”
you sniffled under her demeaning gaze, hoping to tug at her heartstrings, but she only let out a sound between a scoff and a laugh, baffled by your audacity. “oh please, not the waterworks. they might work on zuko, but don’t forget who owned you first, yeah?”
you sulked, “i’m not faking. i am upset— owww!” you yelped, eyes blown wide, when a sharp hit landed on the side of your thigh. what the fuck was that?
she grinned, her gaze heated, toying with the belt, “god, i really missed those cute sounds.”
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you sobbed into her knee, bent over her lap, gripping the sheets with trembling hands as harsh, controlled spanks rained down on your thighs and ass, the skin blossoming red.
zuko did end up getting on the bed as well. he was sitting on his knees in front of you, stroking your disheveled hair as you took your punishment rather well, “shh, you’re a strong girl. you can do this.”
you were a mess of snot and tears, shakily lifting your head to look at him. “p-please, it hurts— ah!”
you cried out, a harder smack landing right on the sore spot on your thigh.
“stop talking, whore.” she barked, ditching the belt for her hand, “you don’t get to beg him. go on, beg me instead.”
you sniffled, trying to get words in between choked sobs, “p-please toph, no more.. i-i’m really sorry.”
silence.
the silence was getting oddly long, the only sound filling the room was that of zuko’s fingers in your hair. you couldn’t see her face from this angle, so you started to panic. “t-toph? is everythi— ouch!”
you gasped, crying, at the sudden hit. fuck, you forgot she liked doing this. distracting you with a random pause to make your muscles relax, just for the smack to hurt some more.
it had been so long since she punished you, you forgot how cruel she could get.
she chuckled, condescendingly patting your ass, “mhm, how sorry are you though?”
your dignity was being trampled over like dog shit. you could only flush with embarrassment and shame, sniffling as you answered, “i-i’m very very sorry, i deserve all of this.. i won’t do it again. please, please, f-forgive me, i beg of you.”
she hummed, rhythmically tapping her index against your plush thigh, “i’m not really convinced.”
you continued babbling dazed apologies, tears streaming down your face, pleading and praising her, spitting out anything that could stall her.
she smirked, her hand suddenly palming your soaked cunt through your panties, pulling a startled scream out of you.
“you disgusting freak, i forgot how wet you get from this.” she licked the bit of slick that seeped through on her fingers, before giving you a final spank with that same saliva-wet hand. “go, get on all fours. zuko, take care of her while i go fetch my strap.”
she rolled you off her lap, zuko’s beefy arms catching you. he tutted, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head to calm your crying, “you shouldn’t have been so bad, hm? it’s okay. we’ll take good care of you.”
you nodded, nuzzling into his chest pitifully, like your cunt wasn’t dripping with anticipation.
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“mhh..” you drooled around his cock, trying to suck past the middle. his firm hand gently pushed your head in further, coaxing garbled moans from you, “such a good girl. i’m proud of you, keep going.”
you were on all fours, hands on his spread thighs for support, your pussy throbbing with need as you bobbed your head up and down on his big, girthy cock.
he moaned, grip tightening on your hair, bucking his hips up into your hot mouth, “f-fuck, so good. don’t stop, angel.”
he was so vocal, you loved that about him. you always knew if he liked what you were doing by how loud he’d get, and his praise only served to add to the aching tension between your legs.
your eyes slowly drifted up his happy trail, his sweaty abs to his defined pecs, to finally land on his scrunched up reddened face, staring into his blazing eyes. you felt him twitch in your mouth from the shared eye contact.
“having fun without me?” the mattress slightly dipped under toph’s weight. you practically clenched around nothing from the sheer excitement mixed with delicious fear, as she positioned herself behind you.
you wished you could see her strapped up, she was always so hot during sex. but that thought quickly turns into mush when her rough hands grab your hips, lifting them higher to her liking.
you whimpered around zuko’s dick, the position uncomfortable with how much she made your back arch, but she only tauntingly rubbed over your previously spanked skin, effectively quashing down any forming protests.
she grinned, leaning down, pressing her peaked nipples right against your back, her breath hitting your ear, “you’re gonna be good for me, yeah?”
you nodded in response, picking up the pace, making zuko throw his head back in ecstasy, gasping for air.
it was then your turn to gasp, her fingers playing with your folds through your panties. you mewled, choking around him, as the vibrations made him moan just as loud as you.
“two fucking loud bitches,” toph huffed, a smirk on her lips, as she finally slid your drenched undergarments down. “what am i gonna do with you?”
your eyes rolled to the back of your head when the tip of her strap teased your drooling slit, tears already welling up from overwhelming pleasure, desperately pushing your ass up against her.
“fuck,” she gasped, smacking it again, “stop doing that, you slut.”
you felt like you could come already. zuko’s grip on your hair tightened, silently urging you to go deeper, which you did.
toph’s first thrust made you choke on him, the sheer force of it pushed you down on his cock, taking him fully. you were full on bawling now, tears and drool trickling down your chin as you tried to adjust to his size — one that, no matter how many times you blew him, you never seemed to get used to.
he patted your cheek to get your attention, blissed out, “hm.. you’re doing great, darling. remember, one tap on my thigh to keep going, two taps to stop, m’kay?”
you couldn’t even finish nodding properly before toph suddenly sped up, pounding into you so hard you could only choke and sob, clawing at his legs; it took all of your willpower not to bite.
“ugh,” she grunted, her fingers hooking under your waist to deepen her angle, her thumb nails digging crescents into the soft flesh of your thighs. “you’re so fucking tight. with how much we fuck you, i’d expect you to be as loose as a ten cent whore on the street.”
“ah, i’m so close—” zuko whimpered, tapping your temple for you to pull out.
toph scoffed, “already?”
you started lifting your head off him, when her hand shoved you back down, earning startled gasps from both you and him.
she grinned, “haah— you should come in her mouth. if i had an actual dick, i’d have her drink up every last drop of my cum. well, technically, i still do that. but it’d be way more fun with a cock.”
he swallowed, nervously glancing down at you for approval, and the sight only made the knot in your lower abdomen tighten. he never came in your mouth before, said he found it too “degrading” for you, so you never pushed it.
he was always so gentle and caring with you, and then you had.. toph. toph and her influence.
you looked up at him and tapped his thigh once, watching the way his eyes fluttered shut so prettily as he shot warm, gushing bursts of cum inside your mouth. so much of it that some dribbled down your lips to his thighs and balls.
when your swollen lips finally latched off his gorgeous puffy tip, he lifted your chin up to press a kiss to the corner of your teary eye, then your nose, then your lips. “good girl. thank you, angel.”
toph gave you no time to enjoy the brief respite, slapping the back of your head. “lick him clean.”
“you don’t have to,” zuko quipped, lovingly caressing your cheek.
she huffed, “don’t be so sappy. plus, she likes it.”
“that’s not for you to decide.”
“oh? are you saying your word matters over mine?”
“no. but you’re too stubborn to listen to me anyway.”
you blinked. were they seriously arguing right now? with toph’s strap rammed into you to the fucking hilt?
she even stopped her furious pounding, glaring at him. “i’m too stubborn?”
“yeah you are. you always need things to go your way. you can treat her however you want, but you don’t get to dictate how i treat her.”
“you’re killing the mood.”
“it had to be said, sooner or later.”
you frowned, knees getting tired. this didn’t sound good at all.
damn, couldn’t this wait until after you came??
“um, guys,” you started, wanting to calm them down, when you suddenly heard the sound of sloppy biting kisses.
you could only watch zuko from your position, his half hard cock waving in your face like a treat, as he roughly made out with toph.
they were literally doing this over your back, with toph still stuffed deep inside you?? so inconsiderate..
..
but the sound of their angry moans, both trying to overpower each other as they kissed, zuko’s bulging biceps as he tried pushing (or pulling, you couldn’t tell) toph, their irritated grunts.. fuck, you were leaking.
you couldn’t stand it anymore, hand sliding down to find your neglected clit, growing more and more aroused with each noise that left their lips.
toph finally pulled away from him, panting, setting her hands back on your hips. she was about to resume fucking you, when she heard your muffled moans against the sheets.
“oh my god,” she scoffed, harshly pulling you up by the hair so you could look at her, making you cry out in pain. “who the fuck gave you permission to touch yourself while i’m literally inside you? am i not satisfactory? you fucking whore.”
you whined pitifully, “b-but you left me and—”
“for one damn minute.” her sweaty brows furrowed in pure disgust, her expression only making your thighs squeeze together, “jesus, you’re such a pathetic loser. you can’t keep your hands to yourself for a few seconds?”
“i.. i’m sorry,” you croaked, clutching the sheets, when zuko placed his big hands over yours, caressing them.
he gently rubbed your fingers, “you know we don’t like it when you touch yourself during sex, don’t you, angel? that’s what we’re here for.”
you swallowed guiltily, looking down as you nodded, “yes.. i’m sorry, i won’t do it agai— mmph!”
toph took the belt she tossed, roughly stuffing it into your mouth. “talk talk talk. all you do is talk, never listen. maybe shutting up will do you some good, so you can fucking. listen. to. my. orders. for. once.” she accentuated each word with a hard poke to your temple, each one making your head bob to the side, while you whimpered around her belt.
the next second, your world turned upside down as she easily manhandled you into turning flat on your back, your head slotting itself on zuko’s lap like a pillow.
he smiled down at you — that gorgeous, irresistible smile — and you almost melted with affection for him, when toph swiftly pulled out and then abruptly struck into you in this new position, not wasting a second, making you scream against the belt.
“so wet,” she threw your legs up over her broad shoulders, grinning filthily as she rocked into you oh so deliciously, “can’t help but fucking clench around my strap when i’m this rough with you, huh? you disgusting pervert.”
you were way past attempting to speak — well, which would prove to be fruitless with your gag anyway — only uselessly mewling and crying at how her thrusts hit your sweet spot over and over again.
for a blind person, she knew the way inside your velvety walls like nobody else did. not even zuko himself.
meanwhile, his hands ran over your jaw, neck, collarbones.. while his huge thighs served for great head support, as you continuously bounced from the force of her pounding. your eyes fluttered open, dazed with pain and pleasure, when you noticed his hungry gaze.
it drifted to your face for a second, before zooming back on your bouncing tits. he let his hands slide down to cup them, having you squirm with overstimulation. with toph’s unrelenting pace, their erratical bouncing had him in a trance, fingers nimbly tugging and pinching your hardened nipples as he fondled the soft tissue.
you genuinely felt your vision cloud, you swore you could pass out from the sheer stimulation.
you felt the belt get suddenly ripped off your mouth, and your gaze refocused, watching a smug toph toss it behind her.
“i only wanna hear my name on your tongue, yeah?” she gave you a sharper thrust to hear you squeal, “only say what i allow you to, or the belt’s coming back. in both its usages. do i make myself clear?”
your throat dried up at the threat, nodding desperately, “yes, toph.”
she finally cracked a softer smile, “attagirl.”
she grabbed a nearby pillow, then patted your hip, “up.” you obeyed, lifting them, and she slid it under your lower back, angling you even better for her to abuse your cervix.
“good girl,” she praised, at last. “see, you can be so good when you want to be.”
no other words were uttered after that, as she resumed her relentless pounding, the bed creaking so loudly you were sure you’d bust it. her hand slipped between your legs to take care of your aching clit, all while zuko busied himself with your breasts.
or well, one breast.
you were too blissed out to pay attention then, but you understood where his other free hand went later on. after all, toph did get the best part, so you supposed he had to relieve himself somehow. even though you had just sucked him off, he had this incredible power to get erect only a bit after.
with toph’s strap lodged so deep into you, her calloused fingers skillfully toying with your puffy bud, zuko’s warm hand (he’d adjust the heat based on how good you were being) working your supple tit..
it was only a matter of time before you came all over her. well, more like a matter of permission.
“mngh.. p-please, toph, can i come?” you asked breathlessly, tears streaming down your face.
“hmm,” she pretended to mull it over, but the condescending smirk on her lips already said it all. “maybe later.”
you bit down on your lip, not protesting — if you did, you could say bye to your orgasm — trying your best to hold it in, as your moans only kept rising in pitch, harder to muffle.
honestly, you wished you could just take a picture of this, keep it, and touch yourself to it every night.
watching your legs dangle on toph’s shoulders, her flexed muscular arms as she held down your hips, the sweat beads sliding down her neck to her own naked breasts, and of course, her signature mocking grin that had you in a chokehold. you’d absolutely take anything she gave you with that smug, unfairly sexy grin.
then you’d look straight up, and there was zuko’s sculpted god-like face, features scrunched in focus and arousal, his glistening muscles right over your head as he squeezed at your chest, exhaling warm steam the closer he got..
toph tapped your clit, jolting you into attention, “wanna come with me?”
you whimpered, vehemently nodding, “y-yes please. please, toph.”
“then come.” with a final thrust, you cried out as a blinding hot orgasm crashed down on you, wracking your body, dripping down her strap.
she laughed, pulling out, your legs spasming around her head, “such a fucking mess you made.” her fingers brushed against your sensitive hole, gathering all your slick before bringing it to her tongue, licking them in front of you.
she then smirked, coating her index and middle finger with some more. you blushed. she’d always make you taste yourself whenever she was done, and that routine never failed to get your used cunt throbbing anew.
but she made a detour.
you watched, confused, then your eyes blew open, as she took her fingers to zuko’s parted lips. you felt your organs flip over each other, mouth drying up as you watched him suck on her digits, tasting you so eagerly.
“good boy,” she praised tauntingly, pressing down on his tongue, “she tastes great, doesn’t she?”
“mhhn..” he mumbled, dazed, still sucking until toph pulled her fingers out, scoffing. “that’s enough, you greedy slut.”
he huffed, “fuck you.”
“fuck you too.”
he focused back on you, gaze softening as he stroked your cheeks. “how do you feel, angel?”
how you felt?? fucking horny from whatever the hell that was, jesus. they were so hot together, you could hardly believe you had both of them at your beck and call, fucking you whenever you asked.
you swallowed, shaking the thoughts off, “i.. i’m better now, thank you.”
he smiled and leaned down to press soothing kisses all over your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “you took that so well. good job.”
“aw,” she cooed, rubbing your legs over her shoulders, “you poor thing. i sure hope the lesson stuck now, hm?”
“y-yes toph,” you stammered out, flushing as the whole thing replayed over and over in your head. “i’m very sorry.. thank you for punishing me.”
she laughed, lightly slapping your thigh, “that’s my girl. you still remember your manners, even with how long it’s been since i last punished you. if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were purposefully riling me up just for this, hm?”
“ah,” you breathed, “of course i wasn’t.”
“of course you weren’t.”
and of course, you both knew you were.
“see, zuko?” she added, finally taking your legs off her, “this is what you were missing out on.”
he hummed, lovingly staring at your pretty face. “i guess you’re right.”
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* i typed this with one hand.. i really hope i didn’t disappoint you guys
甚尔:叫我爸爸 / art by cheng
˚. 𝓽oji putting you in headlocks ৻ꪆ
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 smut ⸝⸝ reader in a headlock (obvi) ⸝⸝ slight choking (?) ⸝⸝ p n v ⸝⸝ tummy bulge ⸝⸝ cervix kissing ⸝⸝ creampie
toji loved to put his hands on you in the most unique ways possible. whether that be carrying you over his shoulder with your ass in the air, moving his hands under your sleep shorts to grope you, the list goes on. however, one particular thing stuck more than ever—caging your face between his bicep and the muscles of his forearms.
anything that involved his hands to your neck you would endure, whorishly. but something about being put in a headlock, lifting your head from the pillowcases that you engraved moans into so he could hear your aloud, made it so much more erotic. as much of a doll you were, you could be rather filthy.
it was a surprise to toji himself when you'd ask for obscene things. asking for him to cum on your face had he given you a rough tit-fuck, putting you in a mating press, wanting him to spank you so hard you couldn't sit comfortably. you two matched each other's freak perfectly.
"you close already, huh?" his biceps made your cheeks squish; applying slight pressure to your neck as you were caged in a headlock, making every moan and squeal escaping your swollen lips clear and audible to hear, never mistaking your pleasure for something else. his hips met with clean-cut slaps that were bound to tender the skin, drilling deep enough his soft tip brushed against your cervix repeatedly. "fuck, you're so needy for it, it's ridiculous. so fuckin' greedy."
from the way drool pooled from your lips down his arm, he could tell you were enjoying it to the fullest, like you'd never get this again. he loved that. his pace didn't slow, didn't falter, only grew harder, making the headboard slam into the wall again and again. you were between a rock and a hard place. as much as you craved a break, to escape the pleasure just for a moment as you could feel every little thing, including a bulge in your stomach coming and going with each propel of his hips, you never wanted to escape his grip. you were perfect right where you were. he'd tell you that anyway. "ji—!"
"yeah? what're you squealin' for?" his grip on you tightened, drawing out your pleasure with long, deep strokes—dragging from tip and slamming to the base with one goal to make you orgasm so hard you fell asleep. your little pleas were so cute, whimpers and cries of pleasure echoing as your walls began to pulse and flutter. "what, baby? you get so easy whenever i pull somethin' like this. i gotta get creative more often, huh?"
your nipples brushed against the sheets, faint enough they hardened, accidentally stimulating you further. as cute as your moans and whimpers were, he liked hearing you say you wanted to cum with your chest. "you cummin' or what?" he heard you slur a 'yes', "atta girl. give it t'me and i'll give you mine."
an orgasm came crashing over you, squeezing his cock so tight that he had to stop moving for a minute to accommodate your sensitivity spike. "that's it. squeeze it, baby. it's all yours—ain't goin' nowhere." he growled in your ear. his grip tightened around your neck. not enough to choke you, rather, just hold you still. you can get a little squirmy when you cum. "so greedy. gonna fill you up so fuckin' much, you'll be leakin' for a while. your pussy seems hungry for it."
not like you were exactly neat in the moment anyway—lips glossy with drool and cum he wiped on your lips, eyes hazy as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. even falling a little limp in his hold. he throbbed against your walls, making you milk every last drop out of his cock. it was too much, hell, some leaked out. "there you go," he kissed your temple gently. "you came quicker this time."
"did i..?" you were in too much of a fucked out state to remember anything that wasn't 5 seconds ago. that orgasm flushed out whatever remaining resolve and strength you had.
that was more of reason enough for him to do it again.
© 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒎 𑣲⋆。˚
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this may not mean much, but i’m sorry for the hate jjk creators are facing right now. it’s not fair!! creators are so selfless and don’t ask for anything in return other than likes and reblogs.
i’m so sad to see pillsatoru and sixxels gone already and other creators taking a hiatus. i made this blog with the purpose of spreading positivity to all creators in this fandom because i refuse to watch a community i am a part of crumble from the selfish act of just a few people.
whether you decide to stay on tumblr or not, your supporters will still be here. the negative comments tend to outweigh the positive, but there’s a reason these bullies are remaining anonymous.
i hope the community can grow from this and become more supportive. and i hope those of us who write/consume fics from our favorite authors can support each other.
tojioffline and the burn book does not deserve to be part of a community that makes all of us so happy. hopefully they will not be part of it for much longer
💗
—
tagging some amazing blogs that deserve all the hype and love in the world!!!!
@tonycries @madamechrissy @screampied @pillsatoru @kamiflix @sixxels @reignpage @gojosluut @kingkaisen @classyrbf @gojoest @spideyyeet @kill3ill @satorus-whore @tojipie @st4rbwrry @killakuna @heartyluv @gojodickbig @sweethearticism @sqtorux @indiewritesxoxo @kkunai @nanamisweetgirl @blkkizzat @sukuhands @eraserbread @i6milfs @splurtz @ichigf @user-voidx @slutsenpai @kissingchoso @an9els @polaroidsex @orbitingdesire @coralbae @kunacakes @ryoride @sadisticslut666 @chelliebelle @tojisdove @serikai @dilfstarr @c4toru @sugucide @sinkuna @angelicjas @kurooh @makismei @lxnarphase
- i created this blog as a way to show appreciation to your fav creators. feel free to send a love letter here!
this is so so sweet, tysm for voicing your support and appreciation to our lovely jjk writers (and for including me too!)
sending love to my fellow writers (although i don’t write much anymore from how busy life has made me hahaha)! u are so appreciated and amazingly talented 🩷
18+ toji fucks you harder after you try to run
his thrusts were rhythmic— using momentum to slam himself balls deep into your cunt with every snap of his hips.
the pleasure became so overwhelming that a signal rushed to your leg to kick him involuntarily. he stops. his cock was steel buried into your soppy folds but he doesn't move.
you didn't mean to kick him away, but you did, and now, he's not so happy with you.
he grunts, a look of disbelief flashing over his face. "what was that? are ya' trynna run from my cock?"
"n—no, at least not on purpose," you whine. "i-i just—"
"does it hurt that bad? is it too big for you?" he cuts you off. "save your excuses, you're going to take it. besides, did ya' really think you can run from me?"
he hooks an arm underneath your back to lift you flushed against him, tightly locking you in the position, while the other moved to lift one of your legs that was so desperate to prevent him front continuing.
your body moves quickly to stop him but he's too strong.
"look at ya', fightin' me and all," he coos, watching in amusement as your helpless body limps as it realises you have no choice but to take him. "that's it, good girl."
the moniker makes you twitch underneath him. the angle gave him an advantage of easier access, which made it easier to assault your g-spot until you shook in his arms. his depredation on your already sore pussy kept going on.
"ha-ah, you tried to run before but now you're taking me so well," he teases, feeling as your hole flutters around him so cathartically.
the pleasure coils up in your abdomen, feeling as if you were about to combust. the lower part of your body ached as the sound of his member squelching into you reverberated around the room lewdly.
you moaned endlessly. "i-i'm sorry! i seriously— fuck— didn't mean to!" you try to reconcile with him but his pace only goes faster.
your pants grew faster as pain started to build up in your muscles from being stuck in a suspended position. your hands clawed at his back, trying to relieve the tension building up in your body.
"if you really are, you're going to take it, right? milk me dry until you're filled to the brim?" he responds, a grin decorating his lips. "or is it too much? are you going to kick me again? well, it's not gonna work."
you shake your head desperately as the sounds of skin slapping grows louder and increasingly rapid.
"take it, take it." he demands, giving you the last hard thrusts before letting you cum all over, bits of it spilling from the minute gaps.
he lets go of you, dropping you back onto the bed with a soft thud. you push yourself to lean onto the pillows, but he's quick to grab you again.
"no— no, we're not done until i say so," he grabs your hips before you fully collapsed onto the soft mattress that you yearned for.
and you feel the intrusion of his cock again, full of desire and hunger.
and he's not going to be so nice this time.
18+ big beefy older bf!toji loves making u squirt
toji’s thick arms were always the safest place in the whole world, especially on nights like this when the rain pattered soft against the windows and your little apartment smelled like the takeout he’d brought home just for you.
except now the food was long gone and his thick, calloused fingers were knuckle-deep in your fluttering cunt, carving you open with that lazy, practiced curl that always made your toes curl up in your socks.
you’d already cum three times for him— once on his tongue, twice on those beefy digits—but the he wasn’t done playing with his favorite toy. not even close. his free hand pinned your squirmy hips down to the sheets, soaked mostly with sweat, keeping you right where he wanted you while his thumb circled your swollen clit like he owned it.
which, as far as he was concerned, he did.
“open your eyes, baby,” he rumbled low, voice all gravel and smoke, lips curled in that smug smirk that made your tummy flutter as he leaned down to kiss sloppily all around your heat. “made ya cum three times already and you’re still clenching around my fingers like you need more. pretty girl wants it real bad tonight, huh?”
you whimpered, all soft and broken, thighs twitching helplessly around his thick wrist. your thin nightgown was bunched up around your waist, tits spilling out the top where he tugged the straps down, nipples pebbled and shiny from where he’d sucked them raw earlier.
his frame loomed over you when he sat up—broad shoulders flexing and muscles rippling and glistening with a light sheen of sweat, that black hair falling messy over his sharp green eyes.
“p-please, toji,” you hiccuped, voice all high and shaky, hips trying to chase the pressure building deeeep in your belly.
your puffy lips glistened, slick dripping down to your ass and puddling beneath you, but he just kept pumping, scissoring, rubbing that spongy spot inside you over and over until your eyes rolled back.
“i— ‘s too much i-i can’t—”
“shhh, easy, dollface,” he cooed, deceptively sweet, but his fingers never slowed.
he leaned down, hot breath fanning over your clit as he spat right onto it, rubbing it in with his thumb. “you’re gonna gush for me like a good girl, yeah? uh huh, just like we’ve been practicing all this time. make a mess of these sheets so i can lick it up after.”
your back arched clean off the bed when he added a third finger, stretching you until you cried out again. the wet, obscene squelch of your messy hole filled the room, syncing with the creak of the bedframe under his weight as he shifted to sit back on his heels.
his free hand slid up your tummy, pressing down firmly right below your belly button, and oh god— that pressure, squeezing the orgasm right out of you.
“a-ah, it’s.. ’m gonna—” your voice cracked into a squeak, that deep, bladder-tight ache making it difficult to stay still. your thighs spasmed, little tremors racing up your spine and making you jolt.
“that’s it, babygirl. let it happen. squirt for this old man like the pretty little fountain you are,” he bit back a groan, fingers curling harder, faster, thumb flicking your clit in tight, mean circles, eyes locked onto where his hand was working eagerly.
“c’mon, baby, soak me. i know you can, just give it to me.”
you tried to hold it, wanting to prolong the feeling of being on the edge, but toji knew your body better than you did. he pressed down on your tummy again, leaned in to suck your clit between his lips with a wet pop, teeth grazing, and that was all it took.
your whole body seized up, vision whiting out as the orgasm ripped out of you.
you squirted hard, hot, clear liquid gushing out around his fingers in pulsing spurts. it sprayed across his forearm and jaw as he pulled his face away to watch, soaked the sheets in a big shiny puddle, somehow even splashed up onto his scarred chest.
the sound was so lewd, wet and messy, your pussy fluttering and gushing endlessly like it was trying to push his hand out and pull it back in all at once.
“fuuuuck yeah, there she is,” toji groaned, not stopping, just slowing his fingers to milk every last drop from you.
“look at my messy baby makin’ such a big, pretty puddle. good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl—keep squirting, doll, ‘m not done yet.”
you were crying by now, soft little sobs mixing with moans as the aftershocks rolled through you, each one forcing another weak spurt of slick from your overworked cunt. your legs were jelly, spread wide and trembling, and it wasn’t until your hips started pulling away from overstimulation that toji finally eased his fingers out with a wet pop, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean like he was tasting the sweetest candy.
“mmh. taste like candy, baby,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded with pure satisfaction.
he crawled up your body, that massive, beefy frame caging you in, breathing you in.
“three orgasms, one big squirt.. and you’re still looking at me with those big, sad eyes? you want more, don’tcha?”
he kissed your forehead, deceptively gentle, then nipped at your bottom lip with a grin.
“don’t worry, baby. i’m just getting started. think you could do it again? wanna feel her squirt around my cock.”
idk tbh i just want that cookie.
i’m on the hunt for a fic and i genuinely can’t find it LMAO maybe someone else will know….
toji x reader, where reader has to keep buying rut suppressants and toji (i think he’s her neighbour or smth) sees her out buying them and tells her they’re not good.
so he offers her a ride home and his motorcycle and that triggers her rut which then get revealed that toji’s an alpha and her rut triggers his LOL HELP😭
cuffed
The plot twist of the century, honestly. One minute you’re at the bar giving major main character energy and throwing out lowkey flirts at some mysterious stranger, and the next, you’re in a stranger’s room absolutely losing your mind. It’s the kind of chaotic escalation you didn't see coming, but now that you're here.
You’re white knuckling the sheets, totally feral, as this scarred stranger hits that specific spot with a literal 1:1 precision that has your brain short-circuiting.
The sensation is overwhelming. Your eyes are literally crossing because the pleasure is too much to process, a complete sensory overload that’s got you seeing stars. He’s got his hand woven into your hair, giving it that firm, grounded tug that keeps you from floating away, while his other hand is doing the absolute most, possessively kneading your breast. It’s rough, it’s raw. Every heavy, thrust is a reminder that you traded small talk for something way more primal. You’re just a blur of gasps and tangled limbs, fully locked into the moment while the rest of the world just fades to black.
“Ngh…” You whimper as he pinches and tugs at your nipple, a sharp, electric jolt zips straight to your core. In response, you instinctively clench around him, your walls pulsing in a tight, desperate grip that clearly catches him off guard
“Fff-uck” He lets out a low, gravelly sound vibrating against your back as he loses his rhythm for a split second, completely wrecked by how tight you feel. He’s struggling to keep it together, his breath hitching as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.
He’s hitting you with that heavy, grounded friction that feels like it’s melting your brain. Every time he pulls your hair or increases the pressure, you’re spiraling further into that messy, sensual haze where nothing matters except the way he’s absolutely ruining you in this room.
The next day, you woke up in bed alone, with just a thin sheet clinging to your naked body. For a moment everything was quiet, until your brain caught up and you realized your right wrist was cuffed above the headboard.
“Fuck” you breathed, tugging at the metal. The cuff only kissed tighter into your skin, cool and unmovable.
Your pulse jumped straight into your throat. Memories of the night before came in scattered flashes. Loud music from the bar, the weight of his hand at your waist, the scar at the corner of his mouth when he smiled like he already knew how this would end.
You twisted toward the door when you heard the handle turn. It opened with a lazy creak.
He stood there like he had all the time in the world. The scarred man from last night, shoulder resting against the frame, crisp black shirt, hair still damp from a shower. In one hand he held a clear ziplock bag. Inside, the unmistakable gleam of the AP watch caught the light.
Your stomach dropped.
“Morning” he said easily, as if you weren’t chained to his bed.
“You’ve got to be kidding me” you snapped, yanking at the cuff again. “Let me go.”
He lifted the bag a little higher, studying it like a trophy. “Sorry. Last night was good” he said, voice low and irritatingly calm, “but I’ve gotta do my job right.”
Your eyes flicked from the watch to his face. “You went through my things?”
“Didn’t have to” he replied. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
Heat crawled up your neck. Anger, embarrassment, maybe both. “That watch isn’t yours.”
“True.” He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. The click sounded final. “Also not the old man’s anymore, according to the report I read this morning.”
You forced a careless laugh. “Report? What are you, a cop?”
“Something like that.” He dragged a chair closer and sat, elbows on his knees, studying you with that unreadable expression from the bar. “Name.”
“Don’t have one” you shot back.
He almost smiled. “Everyone’s got one.”
“Then guess.”
Silence stretched. You became painfully aware of the sheet, the cuff, the fact that he looked completely in control while you were anything but.
“Look” you said, softer this time, “whatever you think I did—”
“I don’t think” he interrupted. He dangled the bag again. “I know.”
Your bravado thinned. “So what? You’re going to drag me to the precinct? Collect a reward?”
He considered that, head tilting. “Haven’t decided yet.”
“That’s reassuring.”
His gaze dropped briefly to the cuff, then back to your face. “You could start by telling me why someone like you is lifting watches worth more than my apartment.”
You hesitated. The truth felt heavier than the metal around your wrist.
“Maybe I just like expensive things” you muttered.
“Maybe” he echoed, unconvinced. He stood and crossed the room, stopping just out of reach. “Or maybe you’re in deeper than a spoiled thief playing games at a bar.”
Your heart thudded. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“No” he agreed quietly. “But I’m going to.”
The way he said it made the room feel smaller, the air thinner. You swallowed, suddenly unsure whether being caught was the worst thing that had happened to you, or the beginning of something far more dangerous.
The precinct was louder than you expected. Phones ringing, chairs scraping, tired voices overlapping, someone shouting at a cop. It felt nothing like the messy warmth of last night, nothing like the room where you’d woken up cuffed to a stranger’s bed. Now everything was fluorescent lights and consequences.
At the front desk, an officer greeted him with a lazy salute.
“Morning, Detective Fushiguro.”
Detective.
So that’s what he was.
You stare at him. The man who’d kissed you slow, touched you softer than he looked capable of, and then chained you up like evidence.
Great taste in men, really.
He caught your stare. “Don’t look so surprised.”
“I’m not” you lied. “You just don’t exactly scream public servant.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “And you don’t exactly scream innocent civilian.”
Touché.
They put you in an interview room that smelled like coffee and cheap air freshener. Toji sat across from you, long legs stretched out, completely relaxed for someone deciding another person’s fate.
“Name” he said.
You gave a fake one without blinking.
He didn’t even pretend to believe it.
Another detective came in, shuffled through files, made a few calls. No CCTV from the bar. The old man too drunk to remember your face.
No evidence.
Your entire career summarized in two beautiful words.
“Looks like we can’t hold her” the other detective finally muttered, annoyed.
Toji was quiet for a moment, eyes on you. You wondered if he could hear how hard your heart was beating.
Then he shrugged.
“Fine. She walks.”
Just like that. He walked you out of the precinct.
“Try to stay out of trouble. I’d hate to have to cuff you for real next time." You bit your lip, playing the part of the flustered, innocent girl.
“Maybe I like the idea of being cuffed, Detective." The words came out silkier than you intended.
Toji let out a low, dark chuckle, finally turning his head. His eyes dragged over your face like he was deciding whether you were brave or just reckless.
“Yeah?” he murmured. “You didn’t look like you liked it much this morning.”
“That was different” you replied lightly. “Bad angle. Mood was all wrong.”
He barked a quiet laugh. “You’re something else.”
You reached the bottom step and faced him fully, the precinct doors closing behind you with a soft thud. “Is that a compliment?”
“Undecided.”
A car passed. Somewhere a siren wailed far off. Toji studied you in the daylight, no bar shadows, no bedroom haze, just the two of you and the truth neither could prove.
You looked away before he could read anything else off your face. The daylight made everything too honest, and you weren’t in the habit of being honest with men like Toji Fushiguro.
“Well, I’m off” you said, smoothing the front of your coat like you had somewhere important to be. Then you stepped toward the curb and lifted a hand to hail a cab.
Toji watched you the entire time.
You could feel the weight of his eyes tracing the line of your profile. He didn’t try to stop you. Didn’t reach, didn’t speak. He just observed, calm and irritatingly patient, like a man used to waiting for things to come back to him.
A cab slowed at the corner.
“Running already?” he finally called, voice carrying over the traffic.
You glanced back with an easy smile. “I prefer the term strategic retreat.”
“Cute.”
“So are you” you shot back before you could help it.
His brow lifted, surprised and amused all at once.
The cab pulled up. “Don’t work too hard on my file” you added lightly.
“Don’t give me a reason to.”
“No promises.” Then you slid into the back seat.
As the cab pulled into traffic, you caught his reflection in the window still watching, hands in his pockets, already looking like a problem that would follow you home.
You faced forward before he could see the grin you were trying to hide.
Better luck next time, Detective.
After that day, life slid back into place with unnerving ease.
You wake up before the alarm rings. Your dog, Shiro is already awake, stretching at the foot of your bed, tail wagging lazily as he nudges you until you give in. You swing your legs over the side, bare feet brushing the cool floor, and let the familiar weight of routine settle around you. By the time you're dressed, Shiro is ready, posture alert like he's been waiting for this moment all night.
Outside, the streets are mostly empty, the city stretching and yawning as the sun rises. You let Shiro lead. You know the turns, the quiet corners, the routes that keep the two of you out of traffic, away from the morning crowd. Every step is familiar. Every shadow noted.
The park is quiet this morning, leaves rustling underfoot, the air crisp with the hint of winter. You're walking shiro along a winding path, enjoying the rare solitude, when a familiar figure steps onto the same trail.
Toji.
He's carrying a takeout box, hair slightly tousled by the breeze.
"You really enjoy running into me, huh?" you say, letting the words roll out slowly, teasing. You tilt your head, a smile tugging at your lips, watching for any flicker of reaction.
He doesn't answer right away, just raises an eyebrow, like he's already three steps ahead. That only makes your grin widen. "To be fair" he replies, "it's you who keeps showing up."
You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Me? Showing up?" You glance at the empty stretch of path ahead. "I think you've got that backward."
"Maybe not" he says "but curiosity has a funny way of finding people. Or maybe it's fate, depending on how dramatic you want to make it."
You hum softly. "Then, I guess we can just call this fate" you say.
"It's early. I don't have the energy for denial."
He snorts. "Good. Denial's exhausting."
The path narrows as the trees arch overhead, casting long shadows in the fading light. Shiro sniffs at the ground, oblivious to the unspoken game. You glance at Toji, trying to keep your cool, though the air between you feels thick enough to slice.
“So” he starts casually, voice low, “the spear.” His eyes flick to yours, sharp, teasing. “You saw it on the news, right?”
You shrug, letting your hands slip lazily into your jacket pockets. “Yeah. Clean job, no alarms, no one noticed a thing. Pretty impressive, actually.”
“To be impressive, yes” he murmurs, walking a pace behind you, “but clean doesn’t always mean innocent.” His gaze sharpens. “Some people are better at hiding things than they realize.”
You keep your tone light, letting a grin tug at your lips. “Hiding things? Now that’s interesting. You think someone’s hiding something?”
He smirks, leaning slightly closer, letting his presence press on you without touching.
He smirks, leaning slightly closer, letting his presence press on you without touching. “Maybe” he says, voice low. “People hide things all the time.”
You let out a soft laugh and glance ahead at the path. “You detectives really know how to ruin a peaceful walk, huh?”
He raises a brow. “Ruin?”
“Yeah.” You tug Shiro’s leash gently, pretending to be more interested in the trees than in the man dissecting you with his eyes. “It’s a nice morning. Birds, fresh air, my dog not committing any crimes and you’re talking museum heists.”
Toji studies you for a beat, clearly aware of the sidestep. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Am I?” you hum, feigning innocence. “Maybe I just don’t find stolen antiques very romantic conversation.”
A low chuckle leaves his throat. “Romantic?”
You shoot him a teasing look. “If you’re going to interrogate me on a walking trail, at least mix in something fun. Favorite food. Worst habit. Childhood trauma. You know…normal people talk.”
He snorts, amused. “You want small talk.”
“I want you to stop looking at me like I’m a case file” you reply lightly. “It’s unsettling.”
His gaze lingers another second, then he finally eases back, hands sliding into his pockets. “Alright. Normal people talk.”
“See? You can be trained.”
“That a challenge?”
You grin. “More like behavior correction.” You gesture toward the takeout box in his hand. “What’s that, by the way? Breakfast?”
He glances down like he forgot he was holding it. “Dumplings. From that place near the station.”
“You hungry?”
The question catches you off guard. Not sharp, not loaded, just casual.
“Trying to bribe me, Detective?”
“Just offering food” he replies, lips tugging. “You’re the one making it suspicious.”
You laugh, letting the tension loosen just a little. “See? Much better topic. Dumplings over stolen spears any day.”
Toji watches you, unreadable, then gives a small shake of his head. “You’re slippery.”
“And you’re intense” you shoot back. “Guess we balance out.”
Shiro nudges your leg again, impatient, and you use it as an excuse to start walking. “Come on. He’s decided this conversation is boring.”
Toji falls into step beside you, letting the spear drift out of the air, for now.
“Alright” he says after a moment. “Normal people talk it is.”
Toji glances down at the takeout box again, then back at you, like he’s weighing something.
“Sit with me” he says finally, casual but not quite a suggestion. “There’s a bench up ahead.”
You blink. “Is that an order, Detective?”
“Invitation” he corrects. “Normal people eat breakfast together, right?”
You study him for a second, trying to decide if this is part of the game or just a rare, human moment slipping through the cracks. Shiro tugs forward, already choosing for you.
“Looks like I don’t have much of a choice” you sigh dramatically. “My dog’s apparently on your side.”
Toji lets out a quiet chuckle. “Smart dog.”
The bench sits beneath a wide maple tree, half covered in fallen leaves. You sit first, Shiro curling at your feet, and Toji drops beside you.
He opens the box and the smell drifts out. Garlic, sesame, something comforting and ordinary.
“Here” he says, offering you a pair of disposable chopsticks.
Toji passes you the container with a casual ease, as if this is something the three of you do all the time. Shiro settles at your feet, finally appeased, tail thumping softly against the ground as he chews contentedly. Every so often, Toji tears off a careful bite for him, earning a look of approval that feels oddly significant.
It feels domestic.
Dangerously so.
“So” you say after a while, nudging his shoulder with yours, “is this how you lure all your suspects? Carbs and fresh air?”
He turns his head toward you, eyes half-lidded. “If you were a suspect, I wouldn’t be sharing my dumplings.”
Your stomach flips before you can stop it. “That so?”
“Yeah.” His gaze drifts to your face, slower now, less playful. “I’d be a lot less patient.”
You clear your throat and look down at Shiro, buying yourself a second. “Good thing I’m just an innocent civilian then.”
Toji watches you for a long beat.
Then he smirks.
“Yeah” he murmurs. “Good thing.”
But the way he says it soft, almost amused makes it sound like he doesn’t believe that at all.
You clear your throat. “Are we going to talk about the fact you arrested me after sleeping with me?”
Toji almost chokes on a laugh. “That’s one way to phrase it.”
“It’s the accurate way.”
He rubs the back of his neck, half-smiling. “Technically, I detained you.”
“Oh, my mistake” you deadpan. “Romantic distinction.”
His lips twitch. “You did steal a very expensive watch.”
“Allegedly” you correct, pointing at him.
“Right. Allegedly” he echoes, amused. “And I didn’t arrest you in bed. I waited until morning like a gentleman.”
You stop walking and stare at him. “You cuffed me to your headboard.”
“To keep you from running.”
“After we—”
“Shared a meaningful connection” he supplies smoothly.
Your jaw drops. “You’re unbelievable.”
Toji grins, clearly enjoying himself now. “Come on. You have to admit the optics were bad. Beautiful stranger, missing watch.”
You bite back a smile. “And you drag me to the precinct? Very sexy follow-up, by the way. Really sets the mood.”
“Hey, I bought you coffee after.”
“Interrogation coffee doesn’t count as a date.”
“Noted.” He tilts his head. “Though you did look cute trying to glare at me in that plastic chair.”
“I was plotting your downfall.”
“Felt more like pouting.”
“I do not pout.”
“You absolutely pout.”
Shiro barks as if taking his side and you gasp. “Traitor. I feed you.”
Toji’s lazy, warm gaze settled on you. The kind of look that made it impossible to stay mad—impossible to do anything but squirm a little under his scrutiny.
“So” he said, voice dipping low, just enough to make your pulse skip, “on a scale from ‘I fucked up’ to ‘I won’t be seeing you again’, where do I stand?”
You froze mid-bite, letting the dumpling linger on your chopsticks. “Excuse me?”
“That” he said, waving one hand with a careless grin, “cuffing you. Dragging you to the precinct. Total humiliation. Where am I on the scale?”
You smirked, leaning just a fraction closer, letting your shoulder brush his. “Hmm… I’d say somewhere between absolutely terrifying and surprisingly irresistible.”
He blinked. Then a slow, crooked grin spread across his face. “Surprisingly irresistible, huh? That a warning or a compliment?”
“Depends” you said, letting your eyes linger on him, letting your tone dip just a touch. “Are you scared of me, or enjoying it?”
“To be honest?” His voice went lower, teasing, dangerous. “Definitely enjoying it.”
You laughed, sharp, breathless. “Careful. That’s how people get in trouble.”
“Trouble?” He leaned closer, eyes glinting, fingers brushing against yours as he picked up a dumpling. “I like trouble.”
“Uh-oh” you murmured, letting your grin curve. “Then I guess we’re both in danger.”
He smirked, leaning back just enough to give you that lazy, confident posture, but his fingers lingered near yours, brushing against your hand intentionally. “Or maybe, you’re in trouble” he teased.
“Me?” You tilted your head, mock-offended, letting your hair fall over your shoulder. “I’m perfectly innocent.”
“To the world, maybe” he said, leaning just a little closer, lowering his voice, “but not to me.”
Your stomach fluttered. “Oh really?”
“Yeah.” He picked up another dumpling, holding it near your mouth, teasing. The savory scent making your mouth water. It’s a total power move. He’s literally feeding you like you’re something he owns, a silent reminder of the control he had over you back in his apartment.
You part your lips to protest, but he’s faster, smoothly sliding the dumpling into your mouth before you can get a word out.
His gaze drops to your lips as you’re forced to take it, his smirk widening just a fraction. It’s intimate, the kind of casual gesture that feels way more dangerous than a pair of handcuffs. As you chew, his thumb reaches out, brushing a stray drop of sauce from the corner of your mouth with a slow, lingering pressure that makes your breath hitch.
"Good girl” he rumbles, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly vibration that always makes your core ache.
You swallow, your cheeks warming. Shiro nudges your leg, tail wagging like he’s the only responsible one here.
“Toji” you murmur, trying for stern but failing halfway, “I think it’s time we call it a day before things get complicated.”
He raises a brow, that lazy smirk still in place. “Complicated, huh? You make it sound like a warning.”
“Consider it a friendly reminder” you say, tugging lightly on Shiro’s leash. “The precinct drama, the handcuffs, all in the past. Let’s just leave it there, okay?”
“To be fair” he says, voice low and teasing, “I was kind of hoping the handcuffs part wasn’t entirely over.”
You roll your eyes, but your grin gives you away. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And you secretly like it” he counters with that half-smile that makes your stomach do flips.
“I don’t like being handcuffed after mind blowing sex” you finish, grinning, tugging Shiro gently so he starts moving.
Toji laughs softly, a low, teasing sound that makes the hair on your neck stand on end. “Fine” he says, hands sliding into his pockets. “We’ll call it a truce. For now.”
You glance over your shoulder at him, smirk tugging at your lips. “For now?”
He shrugs casually, but there’s a glint in his eye that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I like leaving options open.”
“Options” you repeat, mock-serious. “Like, coffee later. Or dinner at my apartment. Pick one.”
“To be negotiated” he says, his grin widening. “I’m flexible, depending on your behavior.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe” he admits, voice dipping low and playful, “but you clearly enjoy it.”
You give him one last teasing glance before finally turning to walk away, Shiro bouncing at your side. “Don’t get too comfortable, Detective. I’m full of surprises.”
“To be expected” he calls after you, his smirk still in place. “See you around, troublemaker.”
You wave over your shoulder, heart beating a little faster than usual. “Count on it.”
In the mornings, he’d find you on the trail, Shiro practically lunging at him like he was a long-lost best friend. "He’s a traitor” you’d huff, watching Toji scratch shiro behind the ears.
"I’m the one who feeds him, but he looks at you like you’re the prize."
Toji would glance up, a lazy, lopsided smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe he just recognizes a superior alpha” he’d tease, falling into step beside you.
The gym became a playground of thirst and competition. He’d watch you from the bench, his eyes following the line of your back as you worked through your sets. When you’d catch him staring, he wouldn't even have the grace to look away. "Form’s a little off” he’d remark, stepping into your space to adjust your stance. Hands would settle on your waist, firm and steady, sending a jolt through your system.
"Is that a professional critique or are you just looking for an excuse to touch me?" you’d whisper, looking at him through your lashes.
He’d lean down, his breath hot against your temple. "Both. I’m a very thorough investigator."
At the café, it became a ritual of stolen sips and shared snacks. "You have foam on your lip” he said one afternoon, not even looking up from his laptop. You went to wipe it, but his hand was already there, his thumb sweeping across your bottom lip with a pressure that made your heart skip several beats. He didn't pull away immediately, he let his gaze drop to your mouth, the playful teasing replaced by something heavy and raw.
"You’re a menace” he muttered, though his smile told a different story. "I should have locked you up when I had the chance. Now you’re just a distraction I can’t get rid of."
The blue light of the interface scrolled past titles like a neon blur as you sat cross-legged on the oversized leather sofa. "What’s taking you so long to pick?" Toji’s voice rumbled from the kitchen, followed by the heavy thud of his footsteps.
A second later, the cushions dipped significantly as he settled beside you, the heat from his body radiating against your side like a literal space heater. He dropped a steaming box of pizza onto the coffee table and cracked open one can and handed it to you.
"I’m curating the vibe, Toji. It’s a process” you retorted, finally hovering over a title with a bright pink thumbnail. You glanced at him over your shoulder with a playful smirk, your finger clicking the remote before he could object.
"We're watching this. It’s a rom-com about a spy who works at a convenience store and falls in love with a regular customer."
"Oh, so he's the spy?" Toji rumbled, leaning in so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest. "Imagine being a top-tier agent, trained to take down literal governments, and you’re spending your shift scanning barcodes just to get a glimpse of some girl in a hello kitty hoodie. That’s not romantic, that’s a massive skill issue. His boss should literally fire him for being that down bad."
"It’s not supposed to be realistic, Toji! It’s about the vibes”
"Trust me, if I were undercover and wanted your attention, I wouldn't be hiding behind a register selling overpriced snacks. I’d be much more direct."
He leaned over you, his massive frame effectively blotting out the TV. His gaze was heavy, dark, and completely unbothered by the rom-com playing in the background. "Think about it. A guy like that? He’s watching you through the security cameras, tracking your every move, memorizing your favorite drink. He’s obsessed. And you're just walking in there thinking he's some soft boy clerk."
You stifle a laugh and, with a teasing tug, move his face slightly toward the TV. “Watch” you say, voice soft but commanding.
Toji was leaning back, one arm draped over the cushions behind your head, his body angled entirely toward you. He wasn't even pretending to follow the plot. While the male lead on screen was fumbling with a bag of chips to hide a wire, Toji was busy tracing the line of your shoulder with a slow, heavy gaze that made the air in the room feel thick enough to choke on.
"You're missing the best part” you whispered, your eyes glued to the TV even as your skin prickled under his scrutiny. "He's about to take down three guys with a frozen burrito. Very high-stakes."
"I've seen enough convenience store takedowns to last a lifetime” Toji rumbled. "I’m much more interested in why you’re holding your breath."
You finally turned your head, meeting his dark, hooded eyes. "I’m not holding my breath” you lied, though the way your chest hitched immediately betrayed you.
"Liar” he murmured, his hand sliding down from the sofa back to rest on the nape of your neck. His skin was warm, his thumb grazing the sensitive spot behind your ear. "You've been staring at that screen for twenty minutes, but your pulse is doing a hundred miles an hour. What's the matter? Is the MC making you nervous, or is it the fact that I’m sitting close enough to hear your heart thumping?"
He leaned in, his shoulder crowding yours, effectively pinning you into the soft cushions. The scent of bergamot and the lingering heat of his skin completely drowned out the smell of the pepperoni pizza.
"The girl is a regular at his store, Toji” you managed to say, your voice a little breathier than you intended. "It’s a trope. Familiarity breeds affection."
"Familiarity, huh?" Toji’s smirk was slow and dangerous as he tilted his head, his lips just inches from your jaw. "I think we’re a little past familiar, don't you? I know your favorite route to run, I know how you like your coffee, and I know exactly where you’re ticklish." He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips with a focused hunger.
"But I’m still figuring out how to make you look at me the way you did back in my room without the handcuffs getting in the way."
You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer. Instead, you reached out, your fingers curling firmly into the collar of his black fitted tee. With a sharp, sudden tug, you yanked him down, closing the remaining inches between you until his face was hovering just over yours.
The sudden shift caught him off guard for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening before they darkened into something completely primal. A low, guttural sound rumbled in his chest, not a laugh this time, but a reaction to the sheer audacity of you taking charge.
"The movie is boring, Toji" you whispered, your breath hitching as his hands reflexively came down to bracket your hips, pinning you into the plush depths of the sofa.
Toji’s smirk returned, but it was sharper now, more dangerous. He let the weight of his body press into yours, his muscles solid and unyielding. "Is that right?" he rasped, his voice a vibration you felt in your very bones. "You spent all that time picking out a rom-com just to use it as a distraction?"
He didn't wait for another word. He crashed his lips against yours, his hands sliding up from your waist to cup your face with a fierce, possessive grip.
The MC on the TV was currently in the middle of a high-speed chase, the sounds of screeching tires and dramatic music filling the room, but neither of you heard a thing. Toji’s kiss was deep and hungry, tasting of beer and a long-overdue surrender. He pulled back for a split second, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing like you’d just run a marathon.
“Hah…”
"Bedroom” he growled, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made the room feel like it was spinning. "Now. Before I decide to see if these sofa cushions are as comfortable as they look."
Toji was hovering over you, a literal mountain of muscle, his knees rubbing firmly against your pussy with every intentional shift of his weight. The friction was driving you insane. “Ngh…” your hips arching up instinctively, chasing the contact, begging for more than just a tease.
Toji’s response was a guttural groan that vibrated deep in his chest. He reached up, his movements frantic but powerful, and pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it like it was nothing. Seeing him half-naked, scars on display, eyes with primal desire was a literal reset for your brain.
Your hands moved on autopilot, anchoring firmly around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you hauled him down into your space. He didn't fight it, he leaned into the chaos, his body weight crushing you into the mattress in the best way possible.
While your mouths locked in a hungry, messy collision, his hand dived lower, hooking into the waistband of your underwear and stripping them away with zero hesitation. The air hit you for a split second before his warmth replaced it. "Faster” you hissed against his lips, your patience completely cooked. You needed him to stop playing and start ruining you.
Toji let out a dark, breathless chuckle into the kiss, a sound that was pure "I got you." Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, deep and sudden. The sensation was so intense you jolted, your back arching off the bed as a sharp, needy gasp was ripped from your throat. “Aah…!”
You’re so sensitive, so ready, that the sudden fullness felt like a physical shock to you system.
"You're so desperate for me” he rasped, pulling back just enough to watch your face go completely undone.
He started a rhythmic, curling motion that had me seeing stars, his thumb finding my center and applying a pressure that was absolutely diabolical. "You wanted Detective Toji? You've got him. And I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name loud enough to wake the neighbors."
He leaned back down, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear as his fingers picked up the pace, turning your whimpers into jagged, rhythmic breaths. "Tell me” he growled, "is this better than the movie?"
“Ff’course Detective… Toji… you… hah— you’re better…!” you blabbed.
"Toji, pleaaseee” you gasp, the word breaking against his lips as you arch into him, your body taut like a bowstring. The teasing, the slow thrust, the steady rhythm of his fingers. It’s too much and not enough all at once. You’re past the point of playful sass, you're vibrating with a need so sharp it actually hurts. "Don't... don't stop. Just—I need you. Now."
Toji pulls back just an inch, his eyes dark, hooded, and gleaming with a predatory satisfaction. He loves this. He watches the way your chest heaves, the way your eyes are blown wide and glassy, focused entirely on him.
"You need what, exactly?" he murmurs, his voice a low, punishing vibration. He slows his fingers just a fraction, a deliberate move to make you crave the contact even more. "Tell me."
"You" you whimper, your hands moving from his neck to his hair, pulling him down with a desperate strength. "I want you. Please, Toji... no more games."
He lets out a rough, triumphant sound, a dark exhale that shivers against your skin. "No more games" he agrees, his voice dropping to a gravelly promise.
He withdraws his fingers, leaving you aching and empty for a heartbeat before he replaces the space with the full, heavy weight of his body. He brackets your head with his arms, his muscles bulging as he braces himself above you.
As he finally pushes into you, a long, shaky breath escapes your lungs, and your eyes flutter shut. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear as he finds his rhythm, his voice a ragged whisper that grounds you in the heat of the moment. "I've got you” he rasps, his hand sliding under your lower back to pull you even closer. "I've finally got you."
The museum closes at six, but the building never really sleeps. You know this because You'vestood here long after the lights dim, after the air changes, after the footsteps thin out and the place exhales.
There's a different kind of quiet that settles in then, not empty, just watchful.
The katana sits where it always has.
Glass case. East wing. Slight angle to the blade, like it's bowing to the room. The steel doesn't gleam the way people expect it to. It absorbs the light instead, dark and patient, like it's been waiting longer than anyone realizes.
You stop in front of it and fold your hands together.
Kon no Bunkatsu-to / Split Soul Katana
The katana is older than all of it, the building, the city, the language used to describe it. The words barely skim the surface of what it is.
A guard passes behind you. "We're closing soon, ma'am." You nod, offer a small apology, step aside.
Later, the lights dim further, the museum settles into its after-hours rhythm. Cleaners move through the halls. Security makes its rounds.
Systems hum softly, confident in themselves. The glass case reflects the ceiling lights perfectly. Everything is exactly as it should be.
The katana is heavier than it looks. Not burdensome. Grounding. The balance is precise, the kind that settles naturally into your grip, like it recognizes where it belongs. The steel is cool, steady, silent.
Morning arrives like it always does. Visitors return. Shoes click against marble. Voices stay hushed. A child presses her face to the glass and frowns, tugging at her mother's sleeve.
"It looks different." It doesn't. Not in any way that can be explained easily.
Elsewhere, the katana rests, wrapped in cloth, laid with care on the table. Not concealed. Not shown off. Simply honored in its quiet presence.
The city continues, unaware.
Weeks passed.
Then months.
And the city changed.
A string of high-profile thefts made the news, cases so clean, so precise, they almost looked elegant. No alarms tripped. No cameras captured faces. Just empty display cases, vanished treasures, whispers of audacity.
Meanwhile, your world with Toji shifted.
The domesticity you’ve built with him is a masterpiece of deception, but it’s becoming harder to tell where the act ends and your life begins. Every "normal" moment is a double-edged sword. The way he knows exactly how you like your eggs, or the way his hand instinctively finds yours in a crowded place, creates a warmth so deep it almost makes you forget the cold reality of your past.
When he pulls you close in the quiet of the night, whispering about a future that feels both beautiful and impossible, the weight of your secrets sits like a stone in your chest. You are living in the space between a kiss and a confession. Each day is a gamble, a delicate dance on a high wire where the safety net is the very man who could bring your entire world crashing down.
"You ever feel like someone's always one step ahead of you?" he asked one night, staring into his drink.
You kept your voice steady, a practiced mask of calm, though your heart began to drum a frantic rhythm against your ribs. "Sounds frustrating” you replied, the words tasting like copper in your mouth.
"It is” he said, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His dark eyes were searching, analytical. "Like chasing smoke. You can see it, you can almost smell it, but the moment you close your hand, there’s nothing there but air."
The irony was a physical ache. You were the smoke. You were the ghost that had haunted his files for months, and here you were, sharing his bed and his secrets.
You reached out, your fingers brushing against his calloused knuckles before squeezing his hand gently. It was a grounding gesture, a silent anchor in the storm of his frustration. The warmth passing between your palms was the most honest thing in the room, a genuine affection for the man who saw everyone’s lies but yours. Yet, at the same time, it was a masterpiece of misdirection, a carefully crafted lie designed to soothe the hunter so the prey could stay close.
"Maybe you're just looking for someone who doesn't want to be found, Toji” you murmured, tilting your head.
"Maybe” he rasped, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. "Or maybe I've already found them, and I’m just waiting for them to stop running."
The way he looked at you then with a mixture of bone-deep exhaustion and terrifyingly sharp intuition made your breath hitch.
You didn't let the silence stretch long enough for him to fill it with another question. Instead, you leaned in, closing the distance until the scent of his cologne overwhelmed the logic in your brain.
"You think too much, Detective" you whispered, your voice a silken thread designed to pull him back from the edge of suspicion.
Before he could respond, you pressed your lips to his. It wasn't a soft, comforting kiss, it was a distraction, flavored with the bite of whiskey and the desperation of a woman with everything to lose. You felt his body stiffen for a heartbeat, his mind likely still trying to piece together the puzzle of the smoke, but then his instincts took over.
His hand, which had been resting heavily on the table, moved to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair with a possessive grip. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss until the conversation about cold cases and elusive thieves was buried under a much more immediate fire.
When you finally pulled back, just an inch, you saw the haze of desire clouding the sharpness in his eyes. The detective had been successfully sidelined, replaced by the man who was currently breathing hard, his gaze anchored entirely on your mouth.
"Is that your way of telling me to shut up?" he rasped, his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip, his touch heavy and warm.
"It’s my way of telling you that you're off the clock" you countered, flashing a grin that was half-sassy, half-relief. "And I much prefer you when you're not looking for a culprit."
Toji let out a low, rough chuckle, the sound vibrating against your chest. He finished his drink in one go and stood up, pulling you with him. "Fine. Case closed for tonight."
"You can stay. It’s late.”
You tilted your head. "You offering, or feeling responsible?"
He glanced over. "Does it matter?"
You smiled, small and unreadable. "It usually does."
Still, you didn't leave.
Silence came naturally this time, soft instead of heavy.
"You hungry?" Toji asked after a while, already pushing himself up.
"I could eat."
He nodded once, like that settled everything, and disappeared into the kitchen. You heard cabinets opening, the clink of a pan, the soft sizzle of something hitting heat. You leaned back, watching his shadow move across the wall, feeling strangely at home in a place that wasn't yours.
He came back with two bowls of katsudon, heat still clinging to them, steam curling lazily into the air. The smell was instantly soothing, savory soy, tender onions, the kind of warmth that settled deep. The rice sat full and fluffy beneath eggs just barely set, the pork cutlet arranged neatly.
You blinked, surprised. "You're spoiling me now?"
Toji set one bowl down carefully in front of you. "Don't get used to it."
"Too late" you said, already smiling. He sat beside you, resting his bowl on one knee, chopsticks in hand.
You ate side by side on the couch, sharing quiet little comments about the show, about nothing at all. At some point, Toji handed you his drink without asking. You took a sip, passed it back. Easy.
When the bowls were empty, he took them from you and set them aside, then sat back down, stretching his arm along the back of the couch.
"Comfortable?"
You nodded, resting your head against him. "Mm. Very."
The TV faded into background noise as your eyes grew heavy. Shiro snored gently at your feet. Toji's hand rested warm and solid against your arm, thumb moving in slow, absent circles.
From then on, lines blurred in quiet ways.
You started staying over more often. Not every night. That would've been too dangerous. But enough that his apartment began to feel like a second home. You had memorized every cabinet, every drawer, every switch in his apartment. You learned exactly how he liked his black coffee, the precise amount of bitterness, the way the aroma lingered just so, and he said, half joking, half serious, that he'd never drink coffee made by anyone else.
He learned the little things about you too. How you always rinsed your plate and mug immediately, leaving nothing behind, no residue, no traces, like your habits were as precise as your movements elsewhere. How you preferred the window open just a crack, the soft hum of the city filtering in, and how you could spend ten minutes staring out without saying a word, perfectly content.
Little quirks, tiny habits, that weren't love yet, but maybe they were its quiet beginnings, shaping themselves in your shared space.
And in those moments, when the apartment was filled only with the soft rhythm of your breathing, the occasional rattle of shiro's tail, it felt almost safe. Almost domestic. Almost like a life you could have.
Every moment of safety was a borrowed second, and every domestic habit was a brick in a wall that was eventually going to crumble. You weren't just falling in love, you were nesting in the lion's den, and the roar was only a matter of time.
The grand hall buzzed with murmurs of well-dressed patrons, the clink of glasses, and the occasional rustle of expensive fabrics. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, reflecting off the polished marble floors, and the artwork. Priceless, untouchable, lined the walls like a silent challenge. You moved through it carefully, every step measured, every smile practiced.
Tonight was supposed to be clean. Simple. In and out.
Then you saw him.
Toji stood near the back row of seats, hands in his pockets, looking maddeningly out of place and completely at ease at the same time. No badge. No uniform. He was wearing a charcoal tuxedo that hugged his massive frame in all the right places, his hair slicked back just enough to look expensive, yet still retaining that raw, dangerous edge. He looked like he belonged there, and yet, he looked like a predator among sheep.
Your stomach did a slow, dangerous flip.
You turned your head slightly, using your champagne flute to hide your profile, but it was too late. His gaze, sharp and instinctive, cut through the crowd and locked onto you.
He didn't look surprised. He looked focused.
He set his glass down on a passing waiter’s tray and began to weave through the socialites toward you. Every step he took was a countdown to your cover blown. You couldn't run, not without looking guilty, and you couldn't hide.
“Didn’t know you were into charity auctions” he said when you reached him, voice low, casual, like he hadn’t just rearranged your entire nervous system by existing in the wrong place.
You forced a smile. “Didn’t know you were either.”
He shrugged. “Work thing. Boring networking. Figured I’d show my face.” His eyes drifted over the room, then back to you. “You?”
“Impulse” you said lightly. “I like shiny objects and bad financial decisions.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah. I’ve noticed that about you.”
There it was. Not an accusation. Not even close. Just that tone, the one that sounded like a joke but felt like a fingertip tracing the edge of a blade.
The auctioneer called for attention, announcing the next item. Your item.
Toji followed your gaze to the stage, head tilting slightly. “Funny piece, that one” he murmured. “Been hearing about it at work.”
Your pulse misbehaved. “Oh?”
“Mm.” He studied the glass display like it had personally offended him.
A bid went up. Then another.
You crossed your arms to hide the way your hands wanted to shake. “You thinking of buying it?”
“Nah.” He leaned closer, shoulder brushing yours in a way that looked affectionate and felt interrogative. “Just curious who will.”
Your heart hammered.
He smelled like his cologne and the stupid burger place down the street and home.
“and then…sold.”
The gavel struck.
A polite applause fluttered through the room like birds with clipped wings.
The item was already sold.
“Looks like you’re disappointed” he said softly.
“I’m not” you lied too quickly.
He hummed, unconvinced. His fingers brushed the back of your chair, not touching you, just close enough to make you aware of them.
“Funny thing about disappointment” he murmured. “It usually shows up when you were expecting something you shouldn’t.”
Your pulse roared in your ears.
“You’re reading too much into my face.”
“Am I?”
His gaze slid back to the stage, calm, predatory. “Because from where I’m sitting, you look exactly like someone who just lost a prize.”
The room felt too warm.
“And you” you shot back quietly, “look exactly like someone enjoying that a little too much.”
That earned the faintest smile.
“Maybe I am.”
After the bidding, you did what you always did best. Blend in, smile, become interesting.
Naoya Zenin made it easy.
He was the kind of man who expected attention and wore it well: expensive suit, sharper tongue, the lazy confidence of someone who had never once been told no. He’d noticed you the moment the auction ended, eyes lingering just a second too long before he approached with a champagne flute in hand.
“Did you want the piece?” he asked, voice smooth, amused. “You looked disappointed when I won.”
You smiled politely. “Just admiring good taste.”
He chuckled. “Careful. Compliments like that make me generous.”
Across the room, you felt it before you saw it.
Toji.
Leaning near the pillar again, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but his eyes were locked on Naoya like he’d just become a personal problem.
Naoya didn’t notice. Or didn’t care.
“You should let me make it up to you,” he continued. “Dinner, maybe? I have plenty of rare things at my estate. Perhaps you'd like a private viewing?”
Across the floor, Toji’s jaw tightened so hard you heard the bone click. He didn't move to stop the invitation. He just watched, his hands curling into white-knuckled fists at his sides. He was waiting to see if you’d walk away with him, or if you’d follow the gold and the blood.
"A private viewing?" you echoed, your voice dropping to a sultry, conspiratorial murmur that was meant to be overheard by the man standing like a storm cloud behind you. "You certainly know how to make an impression, Mr. Zenin."
You leaned in, your chest nearly brushing the lapel of Naoya's designer suit. To the room, it looked like a woman being successfully charmed by a billionaire. To Toji, it looked like a betrayal in high definition. You could practically feel the air around him crackling, the sheer force of his suppressed rage radiating against your back. He was a man of action, and being forced into the role of a silent observer was a special kind of torture you were expertly inflicting.
Naoya’s grin turned predatory. He leaned down, his breath ghosting over your cheek, his hand moving as if to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "Then let's get out of here. My driver is waiting, and I promise the vintage in my cellar is much better than this rubbish.”
The air behind you finally snapped.
Toji didn't shout. He didn't make a scene. He simply moved. One moment he was a distant shadow, and the next, he was a wall of charcoal wool and raw muscle wedged directly between you and Naoya. He didn't look at you, his focus was entirely on Zenin, his eyes narrowed into two deadly slits of obsidian.
"The lady is busy” Toji said. It wasn't a suggestion, it was a command that vibrated with a terrifying, low frequency rage.
Naoya didn't flinch, but his smirk wavered. "She seemed plenty interested a second ago. Maybe you should let her speak for herself. Unless you're afraid she's realized you're a bit out of your depth in a room like this."
Toji took a single step forward, crowding Naoya’s space with a casual, looming threat. He was a head taller and twice as broad, and the jealousy rolling off him was thick enough to taste. "I’m not going to tell you again. Walk away while you still have all your teeth to smile with."
The tension was a live wire. You could see the vein pulsing in Toji's neck, the sheer effort it was taking him not to level the billionaire right there on the marble floor.
He finally glanced back at you, his expression jagged and hurt, masked by a layer of cold professional distance that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Go to the car” he rasped, the command sharp and uncompromising. "I'll be there in a minute."
You didn't argue. You didn't give Naoya a parting glance or try to soften the blow for Toji. You simply turned on your heel, the silk of your dress whispering against the marble as you walked away from the scent of blood and ego. You could feel Toji’s eyes on your back, a heavy, burning weight that didn't lift until you pushed through the heavy glass doors of the gala and into the cool, biting night air.
It didn't take a minute. It took thirty seconds.
The driver’s side door swung open with a violence that made the frame groan. Toji slid in, his presence instantly shrinking the interior of the car. He didn't start the engine. He didn't look at you. He just gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned a ghostly white, his chest heaving with the jagged, uneven breaths of a man who had just narrowly avoided committing a felony.
"What was that?" he finally rasped. His voice was a low, dangerous vibration that seemed to come from the very floor of the car.
"Toji—"
He turned his head. His eyes were bloodshot at the edges, his pupils blown wide with a mix of leftover rage and a vulnerability he clearly hated. "You were leaning into him. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the look you give me when we’re alone. The look that says you’re interested."
He let out a short, bitter bark of a laugh, his head thumping back against the headrest. "And for what? A necklace? A guy like Zenin who thinks he can buy anything with a pulse? I’m standing right there, and you’re acting like I’m part of the furniture while you flirt with the spoiled billionaire."
He reached out, his hand hovering near your face before he pulled it back, curling it into a fist. "Tell me right now. Were you looking at the necklace, or were you looking at the man holding it? Because if you wanted that necklace so badly, you could have just asked. I would have found a way to get it for you without you having to touch a piece of trash like him."
The irony was a knife in your gut. He was jealous of the man, never realizing that the man was just a temporary obstacle between you and the job. But for Toji, this wasn't about the law anymore. It was about the fact that he was finally, terrifyingly, in love with a woman he realized he might not actually know at all.
The space between the seats felt like a canyon you had to cross. You didn't answer his question, not with words. You shifted, the silk of your gown rustling as you unbuckled your seatbelt and leaned across, invading his space.
Toji’s breath hitched. He wanted to stay angry, you could see it in the rigid set of his jaw and the way his hands still crushed the steering wheel. But as you pressed your palm against the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, his resolve disintegrated.
"Toji” you whispered, your lips inches from his. "Look at me."
He finally turned his head, his dark eyes searching yours with a raw, agonizing intensity. "I'm looking.”
"I'm always looking at you. That’s the damn problem."
You didn't give him time to spiral further. You closed the distance, pressing your mouth to his in a kiss that was meant to silence every doubt, every suspicion, and every trace of Naoya Zenin’s name. It was desperate and heavy.
For a heartbeat, he stayed still, a wall of frozen muscle. Then, with a low, gutteral groan, he broke. One of his hands flew from the wheel to the back of your head, pulling you in closer, harder, as if he were trying to merge your shadows. He kissed you like a man starving, his other hand gripping your waist with a possessive strength that left no room for "almosts" or "maybes."
"You're mine” he breathed against your lips, the words more of a vow than a statement. "Not his. Mine."
He pulled you over into his lap, and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing heavy and ragged. "Don't do that again” he muttered, his voice muffled by your skin. "Don't ever let a man like that touch you. I don't care what the reason is."
He was holding you so tightly it almost hurt, his jealousy having transformed into a fierce, protective hunger. You had successfully distracted Toji, but as you held him back, you realized the stakes had shifted again.
The drive back to his apartment was a blur of neon lights and heavy silence. Toji drove with one hand, the other clamped firmly over yours, his thumb tracing aggressive, restless circles over your skin. He didn't say much more, the raw eruption in the car had left him drained, his jealousy cooling into a dark.
Inside, he watched you move through the kitchen to get a glass of water, his eyes tracking every line of your body with an intensity that made the hidden tools in your garter feel like they were glowing through the fabric.
"Stay” he muttered, pulling you into his arms the moment you turned around. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in as if to erase the scent of the gala and Naoya’s expensive cologne. "Just stay right here tonight."
You let him lead you to the bed. You let him wrap his heavy limbs around you, pinning you against his chest in a way that felt like both a sanctuary and a cage. You matched the rhythm of his breathing, forcing your heart to slow down, playing the part of the exhausted, comforted girlfriend until his grip finally loosened and his breaths deepened into the steady, tectonic rumble of sleep.
You waited another thirty minutes counting every tick of the clock on the wall.
Gently, agonizingly slow, you unpeeled his arm from your waist. He shifted, a low grunt escaping his throat, and for a terrifying second, his eyes flickered. You held your breath, frozen like a ghost, until he settled back into the mattress.
Minutes later, you were standing by the door, the silk gown replaced by matte black gear that felt like a second skin. You looked back at him one last time. Toji, the man who would burn the city down for you, sleeping soundly because he thought you were safe in his bed.
The guilt was a sharp coldness in your chest, but the professional in you was louder. Naoya was likely at his private estate by now, celebrating his win with a glass of vintage wine.
The door latched with a click so faint it was lost beneath the low hum of the city. You moved like smoke, shedding your gear in the darkness of the living room, your heart still sprinting at the memory of Naoya’s security beams.
The bag felt heavy. Heavier than it should. Inside, nestled against each other, were the spoils. The blood vial necklace, a vintage stopwatch you’d lifted from Naoya’s study on a whim, and a heavy signet ring that had been sitting far too temptingly on his nightstand.
You slipped back into the bedroom, the air still thick with the scent of Toji’s sleep. He hadn't moved. He was sprawled across the bed, one arm flung out to the empty space where you should have been.
You tucked the bag deep into the back of the closet, hidden behind the heavy winter coats you had memorized weeks ago. Then, moving with the silence of a ghost, you slid back under the covers. The sheets were still warm.
Toji groaned in his sleep, his body instinctively seeking yours. His arm hooked around your waist, pulling you back into the heat of his chest. His skin was radiating warmth, a stark contrast to the chilled, adrenaline soaked skin of your own.
"Mm…cold” he rumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He didn't open his eyes, but he tucked his face into the crook of your neck. "Where'd you go?"
“Just water” you whispered, your voice steady despite the roar of your pulse. "Go back to sleep, Toji."
When you opened your eyes, Toji is seating beside you, staring. “Morning” you say.
He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead. "I had a dream”he said, his voice gravelly. "That you left. That I woke up and you were just gone."
He pulled back, his hand coming up to cup your face. His thumb traced your lower lip, his gaze searching yours with a terrifying, quiet tenderness. "Then I woke up and you were right here. Right where you belong."
He had no idea that less than three feet away, in the dark corner of his closet, sat enough evidence to end your life, and his career.
"I'm going to make us coffee" he murmured, sliding out of bed. "Then I have to check in with the precinct. Apparently, Zenin’s estate got hit last night. The guy is screaming for blood."
He paused at the door, looking back at you with a lopsided, sleepy grin. "Good thing you were here with me, huh? I’m the only alibi you’ll ever need."
The morning air was crisp, the kind of clear, biting cold that usually made the walk with Shiro the most peaceful part of your day.
Shiro’s growl was a low, vibrating warning against your leg, his hackles raised as Naoya’s four guards stepped forward, cutting off both ends of the narrow passage.
Naoya stepped into the center, looking immaculate even in the grime of the backstreet. He didn't have a warrant, and he didn't have a video, what he had was the ego of a man who couldn't stand being outplayed.
A faint smile curved his mouth, but it never reached his eyes.
“Nice to see you, little thief.”
The words were smooth. But there was steel under every syllable, a blade wrapped in silk.
“You’ve been busy” he continued, voice low, conversational. “Very creative. Very bold.”
A pause. Just long enough to let the compliment feel wrong.
“You must have thought I wouldn’t notice.”
The alley seemed to shrink around him, shadows pulling inward like an audience leaning closer.
“I admire the audacity” he said softly. “Truly. It takes talent to slip past me.” His gaze sharpened, smile thinning. “But talent without foresight?”
He stepped forward once, not rushed, not threatening. Just certain.
“That’s just arrogance in disguise.”
There it was. The crack in the composure. The reason he was here instead of sending someone else.
You hadn’t just stolen from him.
You’d embarrassed him.
And Naoya Zenin did not forgive embarrassment.
“You’re just throwing accusations around now?” you say, your voice steady, chin tilting up in challenge. You slip your hands into your pockets instead of crossing your arms. Casual, almost bored, as if his scrutiny is nothing more than background noise.
As if you don’t feel the weight of his stare tracing every shift of your posture, every breath you take, every flicker in your expression.
"You were so focused on that necklace, darling” Naoya began, his voice smooth but laced with a sharp, jagged edge. "A little too focused. And then, magically, my study is picked clean while I'm still nursing a hangover. The stopwatch, the ring, and the necklace."
He tilted his head, eyes cold. "I don't need a fingerprint to know it was you. My gut is never wrong about a thief."
"Now, here’s the problem" Naoya continued, flicking a piece of lint off his sleeve. "I could have my men take you apart right here. But that’s messy. And I’m much more interested in the man you’re staying with. Detective Toji, he’s so straight edged it’s almost boring. Imagine his face when I tell him his 'domestic bliss' is actually a high-stakes fence for stolen goods."
He stepped closer, ignoring Shiro's bared teeth. He was close enough now that you could see the sheer spite in his eyes.
"I don't need proof to ruin him. All I need is an anonymous tip to Internal Affairs. A suggestion that he’s been compromised. They’ll raid that apartment. They’ll find the gaps he’s been ignoring. Even if they don't find the jewels, the mere association with a suspect like you will strip that badge off his chest before lunch."
"You think I care about the necklace?" Naoya laughed, a sharp, cruel sound that made Shiro snap at the air. "It’s a trinket. I have drawers full of them. No, what I want is the look on his face. I want to see the best detective in the city realize he’s been sleeping next to the very thing he’s been hunting. I want to watch him choose between his pride and his bed-warmer."
"I’m not going to take the jewels back” Naoya whispered, leaning down so only you could hear.
He reached out, his fingers hovering inches from your jaw, taunting you. "If I can’t have the necklace, I’ll have the Detective’s career. And the best part? You’ll be the one who handed it to me. Every night you stay there, every morning you let him kiss you, you’re just tightening the noose around his neck."
He turned to walk away, his laughter trailing behind him like a poisonous vapor. He hadn't touched you, but he had left you covered in the one thing you couldn't wash off, the certainty that your presence was the greatest threat Toji had ever faced.
You stayed long after Naoya’s presence dissolved into the night.
The alley was empty now, just damp brick, distant traffic, and the faint metallic scent of trouble settling in. But your mind was louder than the city.
The cat was out of the bag.
And you were running out of time.
You began mapping exits automatically, the way you always did when things tilted wrong.
You could liquidate the smaller pieces of jewelries tonight. Abandon your apartment. Switch phones. Switch names. You had three identities ready, three stashed passports, and enough cash tucked away to vanish before sunrise.
A new city.
Something loud. Something sprawling. Somewhere your past couldn’t echo.
New heists.
New marks.
New rules.
You’d reinvented yourself before. You could do it again. Cut your hair. Change your walk. Soften your voice. Become forgettable. Become smoke.
You needed to disappear.
From Naoya’s ego.
From his inevitable retaliation.
From the storm he would unleash simply because you embarrassed him.
That part was easy to accept.
What wasn’t easy was the other name looping through your thoughts.
Toji.
You swallowed hard.
Running from Naoya was strategy. Clean. Logical. Necessary.
Running from Toji felt like tearing something out of your own ribs.
You were already attached, too attached. Somewhere between late-night conversations and shared silences that felt heavier than words. Somewhere between the way he’d look at you like you were the only thing in the room and the way he’d walk half a step behind you, always watching.
It wasn’t love.
You refused to call it that.
It was too sharp. Too unfinished. Too dangerous to be something soft.
But it was close.
And that was the problem.
Because if Naoya decided to escalate, if he decided to involve him, Toji wouldn’t see you as a thief first.
He would see you as someone who lied. Someone who slipped away.
Someone who didn’t trust him enough to stay.
You pressed your palm to your chest, steadying your breathing.
Toji wouldn’t chase for pride.
He would chase because you mattered.
And that made him infinitely more dangerous.
You exhaled slowly, staring down the street as neon lights flickered on one by one.
You needed to disappear.
Before Naoya’s pride became a manhunt.
Before Toji had to choose between loyalty and you.
Before staying became more reckless than stealing ever was.
And yet…
For the first time in years, the hardest part of running wasn’t the logistics.
It was leaving someone behind who might actually follow.
You left your apartment like a ghost.
Every surface wiped. Every corner scoured. Shiro stayed close, silent, like he knew that this wasn’t just a departure, it was an erasure. The place looked untouched, frozen in the moment you first moved in. No scent. No prints. Nothing to suggest life, nothing to suggest you’d ever been there.
On the doorway sat your silver luggage and two boxes. Everything that mattered, or that could matter, packed and ready. You didn’t glance back.
Toji’s apartment came next.
The key felt heavy in your pocket, heavier than usual. Your hands shook ever so slightly as you stepped inside, careful not to disturb anything. His life, his space, the routine he trusted like armor. You packed quickly, silently, moving like you had rehearsed this a thousand times, because you had. Every movement precise, deliberate, calculated.
Two hours later, you were on the train, sitting in the farthest corner, luggage tucked under your seat, boxes overhead. Shiro curled at your feet. For a moment, the tension in your shoulders eased. You were free. You had survived. You had outmaneuvered Naoya.
And then…cold metal snapped around your wrist.
You froze.
Your eyes darted down. A cuff.
Your chest tightened. Your pulse hammered.
𝜗𝜚 it’s just kissing. until you’re soaked, trembling, and begging for more . . .
( mdni. cw: heavy make-out sesh, spit kink, dry humping, ab riding, finger sucking, nipple play, possessive!toji, praise/degradation, overstim, light dumbification, lowk soft vibes at the end )
it’s nearly midnight and toji’s been trying to be good.
he promised he’d let you sleep. said he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. insisted he’d “behave”, keep his hands to himself, even when you came padding out of the bathroom in nothing but one of his shirts, hair still damp from your shower, lips all pouty from chewing on them while scrolling through texts.
you’d kissed his temple goodnight and said, “just one more episode,” curling up on the couch beside him with your bare thigh brushing against his sweatpants like it was nothing.
it was everything.
and now here you are— straddling his lap, his tongue halfway down your throat, his hand fisted in the back of your (his) shirt, holding on so tightly you’d think you might vanish if he let go.
he doesn’t even remember what show you were watching. doesn’t care. your lips taste like that strawberry lip balm you always reapply without thinking, your body is soft and warm and squirming on top of his, and your breath keeps hitching in these tiny, desperate little whines everytime he sucks on your tongue like he’s starving.
you were made for gentle love.
it wasn’t that you were fragile. it was more than you have already withstood a lot in life. the last thing you needed was to be uncomfortable in your own relationship, or have to tolerate something that may hurt your feelings.
you wanted the soft kind of love. the type where he stared at you softly with dreamy eyes, the type where he would carry you if your feet hurt, the type where he would cry if he was ever accidentally mean to you— the type where he loved you devotedly and gently.
you always made it clear, you wanted gentle love.
which was why it left everyone flabbergasted when you and sukuna ended up together.
everyone didn’t understand. did you end up abandoning your own boundaries? after all, sukuna was known to be a loud, short-tempered asshole with little to no manners. he was mean, rude, cocky— everything you were not looking for.
if only they saw how the loud, scary sukuna was with you.
you had a full day of back-to-back lectures. the idea od having to stay awake in classes and take notes from 8:30 am to 5:30 pm was already ruining your morning, especially when you had fallen asleep too late the night before, and woke up too late to grab breakfast.
by the time it was 12, you were already exhausted. you were stuck in the part of the campus with no signal, your phone was dying, and you felt like you were going to cry at the thought of continuing the rest of the day like that.
you were hungry. and tired. and sleepy. and—
warm arms gently wrapped around you, pulling you gently to a firm body, the smell too familiar for you to be alarmed. your eyes softened in confusion as you glanced up, meeting concerned red eyes.
“you don’t have classes today.” you mumbled tiredly, leaning into his touch, eyes briefly fluttering shut. he practically held your weight up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he let go of you and grabbed your bag with a huff.
“i don’t.” he grunted, holding out a thermal cup and a brown paper bag you hadn’t noticed he was holding. you blinked dumbly. his lips twitched. “for you, sweetheart.”
“oh.” you mumbled, accepting them. “oh. is this—“
“your usual order.” he confirmed, nonchalant. “what lecture do we have now?”
“we?” you furrowed your eyebrows, exhausted and confused. “we’re not even in the same major— kuna, go home.”
“we.” he repeated, insistent, unfazed. he looked intimidating, especially with a frown pulling on his lips when he noticed your dark eye bags, but his eyes were soft. “you slept late last night?”
you hummed, giving up too easily at convincing him to go home, already walking to your next lecture. he followed, gently taking the thermal cup before you could ask, leaving your hands free to quickly eat before you reach the room.
“you have that party tonight, right?” you mumbled once you were done eating, throwing the bag away. he hummed, handing you the cup back, eyes fully focused on you. his frown deepened, and you sighed. “don’t say you won’t go. you haven’t went out with your friends in ages.”
he scoffed, now scowling. “why the fuck would i go out with them when i can stay home with you, especially with you tired and exhausted?”
“go out.” you insisted. he opened his mouth to argue, and you met his eyes, a sad pout pulling on your lips. “please. i don’t want to take you from your boys, and i wouldn’t be saying this if i knew you wouldn’t have fun.”
his eyes softened. his frown was back, but his free arm gently wrapped around your waist once more. “you know you can get me to do absolutely anything with that look, right?” he muttered, sighing loudly. at your small smile, his trademark smirk was finally making an appearance, despite his attempt to hide it to continue pretending to be annoyed, tugging you closer. “pure magic.”
by the time sukuna had driven you home and walked you in, you felt like you were about to collapse. the day had affected your mood, especially with you being too tired to focus or even write (sukuna’s hand writing was now gracing your notebook) and feeling absolutely stupid for not being able to grasp basic concepts. it didn’t help that you were hungry, and too lazy to cook or even pick up your phone to order.
and your boyfriend was at a party you forced him to go to.
before you realized it, you were on the couch, face buried into the cushions, tears soaking the fabric. you weren’t even sobbing, too tired to reach that point, just sadly letting tears drop and waiting for the horrible feeling in your stomach to fade.
you hadn’t even realized you had dozed off.
not until you were gently woken up by warm fingers gently swiping the remained of your tears away. your eyes gently fluttered open, and met red eyes, worried and angry. sukuna was kneeling beside the couch, his eyebrows furrowed, body tense. you blinked once, twice, and leaned softly into his touch, eyes fluttering shut sleepily. “mhm… you’re back?”
“yeah,” he grunted, arms adjusting you so you’re sitting up, a blanket being thrown on you before you’re gently yet firmly tucked in. “too fucking late, apparently. stay awake.”
with that, he’s walking into the kitchen, leaving you alone again. you blinked sleepily, staring into space, too distracted by how badly you need to sleep to even think. the smell of delicious food begins to fill the room, and your stomach growled loudly just as sukuna walks in, carrying a bowl.
“oh.” you mumbled slowly. “food.”
“yeah, food.” he nodded, almost amused, but his eyes were still concerned. “open up.”
you opened your mouth sleepily. throughout the meal, sukuna kept having to wake you up to remind you to chew and swallow, before gently feeding you once more. by the time the bowl was done, you were snoring softly on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body.
when you woke up, you were being tucked in bed, now in comfortable pajamas (his shirt and shorts). you shifted with an embarrassing whine at the idea of being awake, and his sharp laugh echoed, clear of mocking and embarrassment, just pure amusement as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.
“gives me fucking cuteness aggression.” he mumbled, cupping your cheek. you were out like a light, snores echoing softly again, already starting to drool. his grin widened. “gonna fucking marry you.”
“…mhm…?”
“nothing, baby. goodnight.”
(a/n ok i admit i botched his character this time u guys can call him ooc </3 disadvantages of never actually reading/watching jjk… ill get better soon trusttt)
enjin x fem!reader ; nsfw ; wrote this with my pussy not my brain
“fuck yeah, that's it.”
the low growl that escapes enjin's throat as he bottoms out in you is like cocaine getting injected right into your fucking bloodstream with the way it sends heat bubbling under your skin.
“enjin, wait, you're so big-!” your hands scrabble for purchase on his broad chest, nails raking across his shoulders. he's dwarfing you with how much bigger he is, torso pressing you into the mattress so much you're certain there's going to be a permanent mark in the shape of your body.
“s’okay, you can take it, pretty.” he chuckles, pulling out a little just to see the way your face contorts with desperation, cunt squeezing him like a vice, doing your best to suck him back in, “i'd have done this way earlier if i knew you wanted it this bad.”
“i don't- mmf!” he cuts you off with another thrust, pushing up against that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars.
“shh, shh…” enjin mutters, gaze following the way your tits bounce with each slow thrust, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on your skin, “hear that?” he falls silent enough for you to hear the sloppy mess of your cunt, so loud it's fucking obscene as he fucks you with a wicked grin, “this pussy's telling me the truth, baby.”
𝜗𝜚 roommate!toji finally snaps after hearing you goon through the walls one too many times . . .
( mdni. cw: masturbation, degradation/praise, oral (f. rec), fingering, overstim, spanking, squirting, creampie )
repost !!
toji could always count on one thing.
past midnight, every night, without fail— moaning behind your bedroom door, porn echoing off the walls, barely muffled by whatever cheap ass speakers your laptop had. his name wasn’t on your mind. never was, never would be. you were too busy with your legs spread, vibrator buzzing between your thighs, lips parted in glossy desperation as your hips arched off the mattress, chasing your next high like it was oxygen.
you were a gooner. through and through. always needy, cockdrunk without any cock, and fucking shameless.
it’s been like this for months now, and toji swore it had to be some kind of karmic punishment. not because you were messy or rude or hard to live with. but because you were just loud. too loud. and lately, your little nightly sessions were getting out of hand.
he would wake up at two in the morning to the sound of you moaning. not your porn, not the squeaky, high-pitched girl you’d been replaying for the last thirty minutes, but you. mewling, breathy, muttering curse words in a fucked out whisper as if you were seconds away from crying.
frat!sukuna who accidentally ends up being obsessed with avoidant nerd!reader…
Doctor, Doctor, Have Mercy On Me
Synopsis: in sexually liberal Republic of Orgasms, to become a state approved Breeder (aka be allowed to fuck anyone, anytime, anywhere) you must first be assessed by a doctor so you can gain your certificate. and you so badly want to be fucked. lucky for you, you've finally come of age.
and today, you'll be seen by Doctor Nanami, who's more than happy to do his duty and assist an eager citizen ;)
Warnings: smut, porn with a lil plot, p in v, unprotected sex, dubcon/systematic dubcon, non curse au, weird highly sexual world don't question it, pússy slapping, breast play, deepthroating, cunnilingus, virgin!reader, spitting, latex gloves, doctor!nanami making reader use state mandated terms, improper use of medical equipment, talking reader through it, dom daddy!nanami, horny!reader, throat bulging, belly bulging, brief rimming, some anal, creampie, spitting, cúm eating, hair pulling, backshots, pússy inspection, mentions of exhibitionism and voyeurism, squirting and drinking it, pússyjob/outercourse, spanking, orgasm denial, asking for permission, not proofread Word Count: 5.9k
It’s time for your very first physical examination.
Everyone, once they reach the age of 21, must be checked for their sexual reproductivity value. In a world where reproduction is king, and sex is so highly revered, there is nothing more important than having a body that could spread pleasure and bear children.
You’re excited, to say the least.
Finally, the State will acknowledge your womanhood, will allow you to do your part as a citizen, and determine your place in society.
A little nervous, you walk into the examination room. It’s a sterile place, as any hospital rooms tend to be, but this one is even more so because it’s a room in the country’s most celebrated reproduction facility. How lucky your body gets to be assessed in such a respectable place.
There’s a gynecology chair in the middle and that’s where your eyes gravitate to immediately.
“Good morning.”