Dilf!Toji x Fem!Reader
wc: 7,407
My mom has been bugging me to find a job ever since I started college. Anytime I talk to her, it’s always the same thing:
“Have you found a job yet?”
“You know the place down the street is hiring. You should check that out.”
I finally gave in and downloaded the babysitting app my friend suggested. You set up a profile, add a photo, list any experience, and scroll through jobs parents post. Most of it was routine stuff like feeding, bedtime, homework nothing too complicated. I thought it would just be a way to make a little extra cash.
I started scrolling through the listings, mostly the usual stuff — toddlers who wouldn’t nap, kids with a mile long list of rules, parents who sounded way too intense and strict. I was about to sigh and close the app when one listing caught my eye.
The profile was simple: “Looking for a reliable babysitter for a 6-year-old. Evenings and weekends. Good pay.” it just had a name and the schedule but something about it made me pause and not because it was cute, but because it felt… different.
I tapped the listing and hit “Apply,” half expecting nothing to happen. My phone buzzed almost immediately.
Toji: “You free Friday evening?”
I froze, fingers hovering over the keyboard. His name "Toji" felt heavier than it should have. My lips pressed together, and I chewed at the corner nervously, trying to convince myself this was just a babysitting job.
Me: “Yeah, I am. What time?”
Toji: “6 to 9. My son, 6 years old. You okay with that?”
I leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. Six. That sounded manageable. I glanced at the clock like maybe it would tell me it was a mistake, but it definitely didn’t.
Me: “Sure, I can do that. Where should I meet you?”
The reply came a moment later. My stomach twisted just a little, and I tapped the screen like the motion could somehow calm it.
Toji: “I’ll send the address through the app. Don’t be late.”
I exhaled slowly, babysitting a 6-year-old wasn’t supposed to make me this nervous.
Friday evening. I grabbed my bag and shoved my phone in my pocket, trying not to think about him being… cute. Focus on the job. Right.
When I arrived, Toji was already moving around the apartment, half finished tasks scattered across the counters. “You’re late,” he said without looking at me, almost like he was stating a fact which he was. He didn’t wait for a response, just continued rattling off on instructions snacks, bedtime, where the extra sheets were so fast I barely had time to even registered it.
In the corner of the room, I noticed a small spider-man table and chair and it was obviously set up for a kid. And there he was, sitting in the little chair, legs dangling, fiddling with a toy quietly. I realized Toji hadn’t even told me his name.
Toji glanced at me once, expression unreadable. “You handle him. I’ll be back later.” And just like that, he left, the door clicking behind him.
I exhaled slowly, fingers tapping the edge of the couch as my brain tried to settle. the kid was quiet, observant, and it was clear as day that he was sizing me up but at least I now knew I had to handle this on my own. And somewhere in the back of my head, I couldn’t help but think… how was I supposed to make it through the rest of the evening with just this little kid, in this messy apartment, and a dad who said he’d be back later?
I sank onto the edge of the couch, tugging my bag closer and letting my legs dangle. The little boy had scooted his chair closer to me, then finally stood in front of me, tiny hands fidgeting at his sides. His eyes followed me carefully, i swallowed and tried to focus on something… anything, so I didn’t spiral into panic.
On the floor in front of me, puzzle pieces were scattered, mixed with a few crayons that had tipped from a small cup earlier. I picked up a stray piece and rolled it between my fingers, talking softly to myself. “Okay… just keep him busy… nothing crazy…”
Minutes slipped by or maybe it was longer, I wasn’t keeping track. I let my mind wander, imagining the evening being easier than it has been. I pictured him laughing at something I’d say, or maybe even speaking to me at most.
I glanced at my phone, debating whether to text Toji about his name or if that was weird. I tapped the screen, thumb hovering..
“Megumi,” the reply blinked back almost immediately. Just his name, nothing more nothing less. That was all I got.
I exhaled again, fingers still tapping the edge of the couch. The little boy stayed standing in front of me, still quiet, still watching, little movements only in the fidgeting of his hands.
Then my elbow nudged the cup of crayons again, sending a few more rolling all across the floor. I froze, staring at the mess. He tilted his head toward me but stayed standing, silent as always, just observing.
A few minutes later I wasn’t sure how many, time was already blending together the door clicked again.
Toji stepped in, hair messy, jacket slung over one shoulder. He barely even looked at me. “All good?” he asked, like he was asking about the weather and not the tiny human that was standing in front of me.
I cleared my throat, gripping the edge of the couch. “Y-yeah… he’s… fine,” I said, unsure how much I should even tell him.
Toji nodded once, he got distracted by something on the counter. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering, “Cool… cool,” and then started unpacking some bags he’d brought home, not even making one bit of eye contact with me.
The little boy stayed standing in front of me, quiet as ever, just glancing between us. Toji was here… but barely.
After a moment, Toji finally looked at me, chewing his lip, maybe considering saying more but then he shrugged. “I’m out. Back tomorrow,” he said, tossing the jacket onto a chair without care. And just like that, he was gone, leaving the apartment quieter than before.
I exhaled slowly, glancing down at the little boy still standing there. Standing. Watching. My fingers tapped the edge of the couch again. Somehow…maybe I could actually do this.
I glanced down at the puzzle pieces scattered across the floor. I picked up a stray piece and rolled it between my fingers. “Do you… want to help?” I asked softly, trying not to sound too desperate.
He tilted his head, then gave a small nod. That was it. No words, just that quiet acknowledgment. My chest tightened a little, but I let myself think… okay, small progress.
I shifted on the edge of the couch, reaching down to sort the crayons on the floor by color while whispering under my breath. “Red, blue… green… okay…” For a moment, I let my mind drift, imagining him actually smiling at something I said.
Once the crayons were sorted, I leaned forward from the couch, crossing my legs beneath me so I could reach the puzzle pieces more easily. “Okay… want to try finishing this puzzle with me?” I asked, gesturing to the pieces spread across the floor.
Another tiny nod. He stepped closer, and I scooted a little further forward, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I positioned myself to really focus. Being closer to him, seeing him carefully examining the pieces, made everything feel… much more manageable.
Megumi stayed beside me, quietly picking up and placing pieces. His eyes flicked up at me occasionally, just to watch. And for the first time that evening, I felt like maybe we were… a team, even if it was the most awkward team imaginable.
I nudged a puzzle piece into place, careful not to bump his little hands as he studied the pieces beside me, watching more than doing, but that wasn’t a bad thing.
Then I noticed him yawning it just a tiny one but it hit me in the chest like a warning.
I reached for my phone, glancing at the screen. 10:00 PM. My eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh…” I muttered under my breath.
I looked back at him, beside me, still silent. “Uh… what time do you usually go to sleep?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.
No answer. He just tilted his head, eyes on the puzzle again.
I let out a short laugh. “Okay… are you tired at least?”
I blinked at him, surprised by the blunt honesty, and let out a chuckle. Of course he wasn’t tired. Why would he be? Six-year olds were basically little tornadoes of energy.
I leaned back slightly, exhaling, trying to steady myself. Well… if he wasn’t tired, that meant I had to keep him engaged for at least another hour. Fun.
I glanced down at the puzzle, realizing how many pieces were still scattered. Megumi shuffled a little and, in a tiny, hesitant voice, said, “Hungry.”
My mind immediately went back to what Toji had told me when he left. Something about keeping him fed before bed. I nodded quickly. “Right! Of course. Let’s get you something quick.”
I stood carefully, mindful of the scattered puzzle pieces and crayons. Megumi stayed beside me, small hand brushing against my knee as he followed. I crouched down to grab a snack from the counter, some crackers and juice that Toji had left out. “Here,” I said, handing them to him. “Just a little something before bed.”
He climbed back onto his Spider Man chair, quietly nibbling at the crackers. I stayed on the floor, sitting cross legged, and pushed a few blocks around in front of me, stacking them while he watched with curiosity, occasionally glancing down at the puzzle pieces I had left behind.
Megumi finished his snack quietly, still sitting in his chair, eyes occasionally flicking toward the blocks I was stacking. And for the first time, I felt like maybe we were actually… getting somewhere.
I nudged a few blocks into a wobbly tower, then paused, noticing his dark eyes flicking toward the muted glow of the TV in the corner. “Want me to turn something on?” I asked softly. Another tiny nod.
I reached for the remote and switched on a low volume cartoon. The soft flicker of colors filled the room. I slid back onto the couch, stretching my legs, and Megumi shuffled over and climbed up beside me. He leaned against me, small and quiet, as the gentle hum of the show played across the room.
Minutes passed in calm silence. Every so often, I glanced at him; his eyelids drooped a little, and he let out a soft sigh. Slowly, he curled closer into me, and I realized he was drifting off. My hand rested lightly on his back as he sank further into sleep.
Careful not to wake him, I lifted him gently, cradling him against me. Each step across the apartment was quiet and deliberate. His spider man sheets crumpled as I tucked him into bed, smoothing the blanket over him and brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Goodnight, Megumi,” I whispered, standing back to look around at the peaceful room.
Before leaving, I tapped a quick text; Toji: Megumi’s asleep. My thumb hovered, waiting for a reply. Nothing. My mind wandered. What is he even doing at this time of the night? I shook it off, slipping on my shoes.
Stepping out into the cool night air, I made my way home, the streets quiet around me. The familiar click of my front door welcomed me, and my baby Roxy came toward me, tail wagging like crazy. “Hey, baby girl!” I laughed, crouching down to scratch her ears as she licked my hands and face.
From the kitchen, the soft sound of running water. “Where have you been?” my mom asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she glanced my way.
“Babysitting,” I said, setting my bag down. Roxy circled my feet, happy and energetic. “I got a job through that babysitter app… and it pays $13 an hour.”
Her eyes widened, and a smile broke across her face. “$13 an hour? That’s amazing! I’m proud of you, my kiddo.”
I sank onto the couch, Roxy hopping up beside me, tail wagging. Maybe this babysitting thing wasn’t going to be so bad as I thought after all.
I let out a long breath, stretching my arms over my head and leaning back into the cushions. My legs ached from sitting on the floor all evening, and my mind was still buzzing from keeping track of Megumi’s little movements. Roxy nuzzled against me, i scratched behind her ears, letting a small smile escape despite my exhaustion.
The house was really quiet, and for a few minutes, it felt like everything was fine. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be so bad either.
The next evening, I found myself back at the apartment, bag slung over my shoulder. Last night had gone… better than I expected. Maybe a little too smoothly, considering I hadn’t even known his name until I asked.
Megumi was already there, quietly sitting on the edge of the couch with his small hands folded in his lap. The blocks from yesterday were scattered on the floor, and the faint glow of the TV flickered silently in the corner. He didn’t look up as I entered, just watched carefully.
“Hey,” I said softly, setting my bag down. “Ready for round two?” No response. Of course…
I crouched down to pick up the scattered blocks, letting him watch silently. He didn’t move or comment just his quiet presence, like a tiny shadow following my hands. I pushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear, getting into my little “focus zone,” and started stacking the blocks again.
It was quiet. Too quiet, maybe. And I couldn’t help glancing at the front door every so often, expecting Toji to stroll in, say something and disappear again. But for right now… it was just me and him.
I leaned over the scattered blocks, fingertips brushing against the rug as I picked them up one by one. Megumi stayed close by, still as ever, eyes following my hands. There was a subtle intensity in the way he watched, like he was taking everything in but hadn’t decided how to react.
“Do you want to try one with me?” I asked. He tilted his head, then nodded just enough to show he understood. That was all I needed.
Every so often, my gaze flicked toward the door. Where was Toji? Would he send a text? My phone stayed tucked in my pocket, silent as ever. I shook my head.. Why am I even thinking about him right now?
After a little while, I remembered what Toji had mentioned about snacks yesterday. “Are you hungry?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “Yeah,” came the tiny reply. I got up carefully and got a small piece of fruit from the counter, setting it down near him. He took it without a word, nibbling.
I let my attention drift for a moment, noticing little things I hadn’t before like the scuff on the corner of the coffee table, the way the light from the TV caught on the edge of a block, the soft sound of the rug fibers brushing against my knees. These small details made the apartment feel familiar, even if I had only been here once before.
Minutes passed. Megumi’s movements grew slower, his little body leaning just slightly toward me, eyes fluttering. I carefully lifted him, cradling him against my chest as I carried him to his bed. I tucked the blanket snugly around him and brushed a few loose strands of hair from his face.
“Sleep well,” I murmured.
I straightened up, pausing in the doorway. My phone buzzed briefly with a notification that I checked reflexively. Nothing from Toji. Of course. I sighed, sliding my shoes back on, and stepped out into the crisp night air, letting the tension of the evening slowly slip from my shoulders as I made my way home.
The third night, I stepped back into the apartment with a mix of nerves and familiarity. The blocks were still scattered across the rug from yesterday, though a few had been neatly tucked into a bin. Megumi was already there, quietly perched near the edge of the rug, eyes following my every move. He didn’t say a word, just watched.
I sank down to the floor again, letting my legs stretch out beneath me. The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the flicker of the TV in the corner. The way the light bounced off the scattered toys made everything look calm, but I couldn’t shake the awareness that Toji could walk in at any second.
I picked up a block, rolling it between my fingers, and glanced toward the door. Where is he? Will he actually notice me here tonight this time? My thumb brushed the phone in my pocket, expecting nothing but still hoping for a message.
Megumi shifted slightly, leaning just a little closer, and I caught myself smiling. He was quieter than most kids his age, but there was something in the way he watched me was cautious and curious, that made me feel like he was starting to trust me.
A soft sound at the door made me glance up. And there he was—Toji, leaning casually against the frame, hands in his pockets, looking more tired than I remembered. For the first time, he didn’t just mutter something and vanish. He paused, eyes on me and Megumi.
I swallowed, heart skipping. He didn’t say much, but there was a subtle shift in the air that I felt like he was finally acknowledging that I was here and not just as someone babysitting his son, but as someone he actually had to notice.
I went back to the blocks, stacking carefully, pretending I wasn’t aware of him. But the thought that he was here, watching us, made my chest tighten in a way I couldn’t ignore.
I kept my hands busy with the blocks, stacking them carefully, but I couldn’t stop glancing toward the doorway. Toji hadn’t moved yet he was leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed, eyes flicking between me and Megumi. He wasn’t saying anything.
Megumi stayed quiet, still sitting on the rug, eyes tracking my hands but not daring to speak. Every now and then, he shifted closer to me, as if he were testing the space between us, testing whether he could trust me enough to notice him. I smiled faintly, careful not to draw too much attention.
I rolled a block between my fingers, letting my thoughts drift. He’s actually here. Watching. Maybe… noticing me. Is this what it feels like to have him around, even a little? I shook my head, trying not to overthink it. Still, the awareness of him standing there made me more conscious of every movement even on how I placed the blocks and how I adjusted my position.
Time passed slowly. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, just lingered around. My heart kept twitching with little pulses of excitement and nerves. I kept my gaze on the blocks, but I could feel his eyes on me, and I couldn’t pretend not to notice.
Eventually Toji’s presence had shifted the air, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to leave, or if he’d stay. Would he actually stay tonight?
I adjusted my position, stretching my legs out just a little more, and kept building. Megumi’s quiet presence beside me made the apartment feel like a shared space, a tiny bubble of trust I would never expect.
Megumi’s movements had slowed almost imperceptibly, his eyelids drooping as he curled on the rug. I gathered the last few blocks quietly, letting out a soft breath. He yawned once, and I knew it was time.
Carefully, I lifted him into my arms, feeling the light warmth of his small body against me. He rested his head against my shoulder, completely still, and I moved slowly toward his bedroom.
I lowered him onto his little bed, tucking the blanket around him carefully. His hair had fallen softly across his forehead, and I brushed it aside slowly. He shifted once, settling in deeper, and I let myself pause for a moment, letting the quiet sink in.
Before leaving, I carefully closed the door behind me, the soft click sounding louder than it should have in the stillness.
Then my eyes caught movement near the doorway. Toji was still there leaning against the frame, arms crossed, his eyes on me. As I was walking towards the door he stopped me by saying:
It was only one word but it made me freeze in place. I turned fully toward him, noticing the shift in his posture, the way his eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary. He didn’t step closer, didn’t offer another word.
A thousand thoughts collided all at once. "Stay". Did he mean… here? For the night? His expression didn’t give anything away at all.
I hesitated, processing the word, before sliding onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. The cool wood pressed against my legs, and I hugged my arms to my chest, still aware of Toji leaning against the frame.
He moved toward the fridge, swinging it open and pulling out a beer without a word. The clink of the bottle against the glass shelves echoed off the apartment walls. He didn’t glance at me, just cracked it open, the hiss of carbonation sharp in the stillness.
“Do you… drink, y/n?” he asked casually, eyes half-lidded, it sounded like he was almost disinterested. The casual use of my name caught me off guard, and my stomach fluttered.
I shook my head, keeping my tone light, though my attention was already elsewhere. He leaned against the counter with the beer, and I couldn’t stop studying him on how he moved with that slow, effortless ease, the subtle tension in his shoulders even when he acted like he didn’t care, the way his gaze flicked toward Megumi’s room before returning to me.
The apartment felt smaller, warmer, heavier. He took a slow sip, casual and unbothered, and I noticed everything: the curl of his fingers around the bottle, the faint crease in his brow, the slight roll of his eyes at something I couldn’t see. I tried to keep my legs swinging on the stool, pretending I wasn’t paying such close attention, but I couldn’t look away.
I let myself wonder what it would be like if he noticed me more, and not just the babysitter, not just the one keeping his kid busy for the evening, but me. The thought startled me, and I shook it off.
Toji just stood there but the way he casually said my name, like he knew it and didn’t even have to think about it, made him feel more present than he had all evening.
I stayed on the stool, my hands resting on the edge of the counter. Toji was quiet now, taking slow sips of his beer, moving around the small apartment with that casual ease.
I found myself noticing little things I hadn’t before: the way his shoulders sloped when he reached into the fridge, the faint scrape of his boots against the floor, the smirk he gave at something only he seemed to think was funny. Every motion he made felt effortless, like he didn’t have to try, and yet I couldn’t stop watching.
He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t hovering, and somehow, that made him more unpredictable. My mind kept flicking to questions I didn’t dare think to ask: where did he go at night, why was he like this, what kept him from caring about… anything or maybe everything?
I shifted on the stool, letting my fingers tap lightly against the wood, and tried to shake off the tension that was coiling in my stomach. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he casually said my name earlier, the ease with which he acknowledged me without having to make a big deal of it.
I tried to keep my movements casual, but every time Toji shifted, reached for something, or took a slow sip from his beer, my chest tightened.
“Megumi really likes you,” he said casually, almost conversational, but there was an edge to it that made me straighten up a little. My fingers fidgeted against the stool, trying to make some small motion look natural.
I swallowed, trying to respond, but the words caught somewhere in my throat. He didn’t look at me directly at first, just tilted his head toward the living room, mentioning that Megumi would talk about me when I wasn’t there the little things he said in the morning, things he noticed.
He moved closer and I realized I had stopped breathing for a moment. The light from the overhead lamp caught the side of his face, and my gaze flicked toward the scar that ran along the edge of his mouth. It wasn’t huge.
I tried to focus on the stool beneath me, on my hands resting against the wood, on anything but the way he was standing there, close made me somewhat nervous.
He took a slow sip of his beer again, leaning against the counter now closer than before, that made my thoughts spin… What did he really think of me, why was he noticing me at all, and how long would this moment stretch before it broke?
I kept my eyes on him, trying to measure his intentions, studying the way the scar caught the light, the careless curl of his fingers around the bottle.
I stayed frozen on the stool for a moment, pulse skipping as he straightened, then he tilted his head just a little, a single word dropping easily from his mouth:
My stomach twisted. I hesitated, unsure if I’d misheard, but the firmness in his tone left no room for doubt. Sliding off the stool, I followed him, careful not to trip over a stray block or toy scattered across the floor.
He moved toward the couch and flicked on the TV. The screen lit up the apartment with the familiar animated chaos of Family Guy. He didn’t sit immediately, just leaned against the armrest, arms crossed, watching me with that same unreadable expression.
“Do you like this show?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. “I… I used to, when I was younger,” I said, voice soft, unsure on why it mattered.
He smirked faintly, as if my answer amused him more than the show itself. “Used to, huh?” His gaze lingered on me for a second longer.
I perched on the edge of the couch, trying to act casual, but my fingers fidgeted in my lap. Every small motion he made, shifting his weight, taking a slow sip from the beer, letting his eyes flick toward Megumi’s room.. made my pulse spike.
I studied him without realizing it. The scar along his mouth caught the glow of the TV, faint but noticeable. His shoulders were relaxed, but there was tension there too, like a string pulled tight under the surface. He moved with a casual authority that made it impossible to look away.
“Did your parents watch this when you were a kid?” he asked, turning his head, and I realized I was actually talking to him now, not just thinking about him.
“Yeah… I guess,” I said, trying to sound light.
He let out a low hum, taking another slow sip of his beer. “Hmm. Makes sense. I figured you’d have an opinion about this,” he said, and his eyes briefly scanned my face like he was testing how much I’d reveal to him.
I stayed on the edge of the couch, letting my hands rest lightly in my lap, every small movement feeling louder than it should. Toji leaned back against the armrest, taking a slow sip of his beer, eyes flicking toward me now and then like he was waiting for me to make a move.
“Follow me,” he said suddenly, voice low and casual, as if it were nothing. “I’ll show you something.”
My stomach tightened, a mixture of curiosity and nerves coiling in my chest and stomach. I blinked at him, unsure if he meant the apartment or something… else. But the calm way he said it left no room for hesitation. Slowly, carefully, I pushed myself off the couch, my fingers brushing against the armrest as I followed him.
He moved through the apartment with that effortless ease, the faint creak of the floor under his boots sounding louder than it should.
My pulse felt impossibly loud, and I couldn’t stop imagining the thoughts behind his unreadable expression. What did he actually think about me? Did he notice the way I was watching him, the way I stuttered when he asked me a question.
We reached his bedroom door, and he paused, looking at me without a word.
“Here,” he said, pushing the door open and stepping aside just enough for me to enter.
I hesitated in the doorway, my eyes sweeping the room slowly. It was different from the rest of the apartment more personal, more revealing. A single lamp cast warm light over the simple bed pushed against the wall, clothes draped casually over a chair, a small stack of cigs on the nightstand. Boots were tucked near the door, and the faint scent of cologne mixed with something lived-in clung to the space.
He leaned against the frame, beer in hand, watching me take it all in. Every detail told me more about him than words could, and yet I still didn’t know anything that really mattered.
Then, almost lazily, he stepped back just enough to reach the door and swung it closed behind him. He leaned against the closed door, one shoulder brushing against the wood, beer in hand, eyes fixed on me.
He moved just a step closer, and I felt myself start to sweat.
“So… what do you do when you’re not babysitting my kid?” he asked, leaning back just enough on the doorframe, eyes never leaving mine.
“I… I just, um… go to school, hang out with my dog sometimes,” I said, words stumbling over each other. My gaze flicked to the scar along his mouth again, trying to keep steady.
He smirked, I stiffened slightly as his eyes held mine, he moved a little closer, the scent of him faint but intoxicating, then, almost instantly, he pulled back, smirk still in place.
“I can tell you’re the kind who notices little things,” he said, “Even when I’m not saying anything.”
I swallowed, nodding slightly, not trusting my voice. “I… I guess I notice,” I murmured.
He chuckled, moving another small step toward me, then pausing, “Where do you even live?” he asked, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.
I blinked, startled. “With my mom. And… my dog,” I added quickly, because it felt natural.
He took a slow sip of his beer, eyes flicking over me, and then his smirk deepened. “Must be nice,” he said, “having someone looking forward to you coming home.”
My chest tightened at the words. “Are… you mostly alone, then?” I asked, curiosity threading through my tone.
He leaned back, taking another measured sip of his beer. “Mostly,” he said.
Then he leaned in again, just enough that I could feel the warmth in his presence. Then he pulled back again,“Not that it’s any of your business,” he added.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The room seemed impossibly small, then, almost lazily, he bent slightly, his face tilting closer to mine. My pulse jumped, my breath catching, and without thinking, I leaned in toward him.
But just as our lips were about to meet, he pulled back, leaving me breathless.
He straightened, taking a measured step back, and gestured toward the bed. “Sit,” he said, I obeyed, moving slowly toward the edge.
He leaned to the side and set his beer carefully on the nightstand, then eased himself onto the bed beside me, leaving a space between us.
My hands rested on my thighs, aware of every small movement he made. His gaze stayed fixed on me.
He leaned back just enough to make the space between us feel charged, yet leaving a gap that made every inch of the air heavy with anticipation.
Every glance he cast, every tilt of his head, every movement — it all felt like a silent conversation, testing, daring me to react. I could feel my pulse racing, and a shiver ran down my spine as the room seemed to shrink around us, leaving just the two of us in that unspoken space.
The bed beneath him creaked as he adjusted, and I realized I hadn’t moved an inch. My hands stayed where they were, resting on my thighs, but the tension I felt made them itch to reach for him, to close the gap.
“You’re quiet… why’s that?” he asked, but there was a weight behind it that made me think.
I swallowed, words catching in my throat. “I… I guess I just… think a lot,” I murmured, unsure where to look, my hands twisting lightly in my lap.
His gaze sharpened, scanning my face, and without a word, he shifted, rising from the bed. The movement was slow, giving me just enough time to register what was happening before he closed the distance.
I barely had time to start another sentence before his lips met mine, gentle at first, teasing, then insistent. My words caught in my throat as the room seemed to shrink around us, every sound fading except the quiet heat of him, the press of his body.
He pressed forward, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips with feather light touches that left me aching for more.
A low moan escaped me as he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, firm and possessive, drawing me closer to him.
He groaned in the back of his throat as he pulled me closer, pinning me against his chest. My arms wound around his neck, fingers curling in his hair as his mouth moved against mine.
One hand stayed on the back of my neck, holding me in place. The other slid down my back, slipping under the hem of my shirt. His palm was rough and calloused against my skin as he traced the curve of my hip, fingers digging into my waist.
A whimper slipped past my lips as his grip tightened, pressing me flush against him. I could feel every inch of him and the hard line of his body pressing insistently against my thigh.
His mouth left mine, trailing wet, open mouthed kisses down my throat. Teeth grazed over my pulse point before his tongue soothed the sting.
He pulled back from the kiss, “Do you want this?”
I nodded quickly, without hesitation.
He didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands moved with precision—unbuttoning my pants, sliding them down, and then his fingers made their way to my heat. I gasped at the touch, the sudden warmth and pressure sending shivers through my body.
His fingertips dragged over the damp fabric of my panties, slow, circles that made my hips twitch. Every brush, every flick of his fingers, left me gasping, breath hitching. He leaned closer, pressing his chest against my back, whispering words into my ear.
“You feel that?” he murmured. “Every little twitch, every shiver—just for me.”
I shivered at the sound of his voice, my fingers tangling in the sheets, caught between wanting to move and wanting to stay still.
A whimper slipped past my lips when he dug in harder, the fabric clinging to me as he worked me closer, torturing and teasing in equal measure. “You’re so responsive,” he murmured, fingers circling, curling just right. “God, I could watch you like this all night.”
My hips jerked against his hand, friction burning through me. Each press, each glide, made my pulse spike, my breaths ragged and uneven.
Then his pace changed it got faster, firmer, fingers pressing into me just right. My chest rose and fell, and I couldn’t stop the moans that came out my mouth.
Suddenly, he yanked my panties off, his fingers sank inside me, stretching, dragging. “So wet for me,” he said, thumb circling mercilessly while two fingers pressed deep, dragging against the spot that made my vision blur.
“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine. “Tell me you do.”
“I—yes,” I gasped, barely able to form the words as the tension built unbearably inside me.
“Good,” he breathed, his hand never slowing. “I want to hear you cum for me.”
His voice, sent shivers down my spine. And when he said it… I did.
My back arched, toes curling as the pleasure crashed over me. He watched me, fingers never stopping, driving me deeper into it until I sobbed, trembling, oversensitive and shaking.
Only then did he slow, dragging his thumb in lazy circles over my clit—teasing the aftershocks from me, coaxing every lingering shiver and gasp.
While I tried to catch my breath, he leaned closer. “Think you can handle more?”
I swallowed, heart still racing, breath uneven. “I… I think so,” I whispered, barely a sound, but enough.
Without a word, he rose, fingers coated in my slick, and slowly licked them clean, eyes locked on mine as I watched. He kicked off his boots, peeled down his pants and boxers, then crawled back onto the bed with control.
His palm cupped the back of my head, bringing my face closer to his. Those grey eyes make it impossible to look away from, they held me captive for a moment before his lips finally met mine again. My chest heaved, breath catching as his tongue explored my mouth.
I moaned into his mouth as one hand roamed, fingers finding my breast through my shirt. When he pulled back, my gaze dropped to the sight of his puffy red tip, slick with precum.
He opened his mouth to say something, then noticed me staring. “You gonna taste it for me?”
The question sent a jolt through me, catching me completely off guard. My gaze flicked up to meet his, and I nodded, unable to stop myself.
I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, squeezing just enough to make him groan. Thick, heavy, pulsing under my touch, I stroked him slowly, feeling every inch of him in my hand.1
I tried to pull up for air, but he pressed my head back down, fingers tangling in my hair.
“Breathe through your nose, baby,” he spat, and I obeyed, lungs burning slightly as I inhaled.
I took all of him into my mouth, my nose brushing against the coarse heat of his pubic hair. His hand gripped my hair, tugging gently but firmly, lifting me slightly, a thin string of saliva stretching between us.
“Enough,” he growled, voice sharp and commanding. “Get on your knees.”
I obeyed instantly, heart hammering, fingers pressing against the mattress for support. In one swift motion, he was behind me, hands gripping my hips, his length pressing against me, lining up perfectly. Slowly, he slid inside me, and I gasped at the stretch and heat.
“Fuck… you’re so tight,” he groaned, one hand lifting to spank my ass. The sting made me jump, a jolt of sharp pain followed immediately by an overwhelming rush of pleasure as he began to move.
His hips snapped forward, pounding into me with brutal precision—each thrust hitting that spot that made my toes curl. I clutched the sheets, whimpers spilling into ragged gasps as he chased his own release, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave marks.
Suddenly, his hand tangled in my hair, lifting me up against his chest. My body pressed flush against him, every nerve alive with heat and tension.
“Ever since you texted me, I’ve been thinking about this,” he murmured.
I tried to process what he’d just said, but all I could focus on was the way his cock slammed into me, each thrust stealing the wind from my lungs. The pressure of his balls against my clit only added to the relentless pleasure, and a moan slipped out before I could stop it.
He bent down, still driving into me with ruthless precision. “Shh… you wouldn’t want to wake up Megumi, would you?” His voice was almost playful—but every word pressed against my nerves.
His voice was low, teasing, almost playful—but the snap of his hips was anything but. Each thrust was punishing, ruthless, stretching me to my limits as I bit my lip to muffle a whimper.
Tears pricked at my eyes from pleasure, from overwhelm, from the way his fingers dug into my skin, leaving marks that burned deliciously.
“I… n-no…” I stammered, struggling to form the words as my body trembled under him.
His lips curved against my neck, a low hum of amusement vibrating through him as his hips snapped forward, driving into me harder—deeper—until my vision blurred.
“No?” he murmured, fingers tightening in my hair. “Then be quiet.”
A shuddering whimper escaped me as he pounded into that spot, over and over, relentless—daring me to break.
His fingers came off my hip, moving to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing me with light touches. Each stroke against my core made me want to scream.
Then his fingers found my clit just right—tight, fast circles that matched the brutal rhythm of his thrusts. I arched, mouth falling open in a silent scream as my orgasm ripped through me, my body clenching around him while he groaned and dug his fingers into my hips.
“Fuck—yes,” he hissed, watching me fall apart beneath him.
His thrusts turned ragged, losing rhythm as he chased his own release—groaning when I clenched around him, desperate to feel every pulse.
Then, with a guttural sound, he stilled, buried deep as he spilled inside me, hot and pulsing.
Just panting breaths and the weight of his body pressed against mine.
I curled against him, chest to chest, feeling the warmth and the steady rise and fall of him over me. His hand rested on my hip, thumb tracing circles as though checking I was still there.
“Still with me?” he asked.
I nodded, words failing me, letting the closeness and quiet take over.
Eventually, he shifted slightly, still careful not to pull away, and I let myself sink into the moment, body and mind finally catching up to what had just happened.
Finally, I dared to break the silence. “Were… were you serious about what you said?” I whispered, unsure.
“Depends on what you mean,” fingers brushing through my hair.
“I… you know…” I faltered, unsure how to put it into words.
“Yeah,” he said simply, voice low. “I meant it.”
Without another word, he shifted, drawing me fully into his arms. Skin pressed to skin, naked and warm, we curled together on the bed. My body ached in the best way—sore, spent, and still trembling from everything that had just happened between us.
His thumb traced circles over my hip, brushing over the sensitive skin that still tingled from his touch. I shivered.
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling safe and alive.
For a long while, there were no words it was just the gentle press of our bodies, lazy touches, and the slow, grounding rhythm of our breathing. Every part of me relaxed, sore and sated, wrapped in the warmth and weight of him.
And then finally, for the first time in a long time I let myself be held, wanted, and completely his from now on.
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