overture ; toji, the zenin family's most useless son. what happens when a pretty thing like you stumbles across his bedroom after attempting to find solace from your soon-to-be-husband?
duet ; nobleman!zenin toji x f!reader
tempo ; explicit content , non-canon compliant, victorian nobility au, period-typical misogyny, mentions of familial death, virgin+innocent darling, toji being a pervert, corruption kink, breeding, pussydrunk toji, age gap (20 v. 31), oral (fem-receiving), fingering, grinding, teasing, unprotected p in v, arranged marriages and affairs (darling is cheating on naoya, so it’s justified), not proofread
letter from the phantom ; a little bit of a… “time piece” for the opera house, if you will just to fit the theme.
A lady must always walk three steps behind their husband, lest they wish to be stabbed in the back.
At least that’s what your soon-to-be-husband would snicker to you, and he has plenty of times over some lukewarm tea it was more like water with a whisper of earl grey.
You despised the man. Loathed him, even. His blonde hair was akin to slithers of mustard dipped just barely in an inkpot, and he often reeked of the most foul cologne your nose has ever had the misfortune of sniffing. Your potential-man of fiancé was the most sorry excuse of a noble you’ve met, and you’d been introduced to plenty in your twenty years of living.
It had been a hard, losing battle with your father. It was at his insistence you marry into the Zenin Family, something about how it was a necessary cost to assure a bright future for the company. You couldn’t have given a damn about some stupid bank or trust or whatever the hell it is your family owns—you’d rather be buried alive and burnt to a crisp in the Earth’s core than spend another minute with that man-thing.
Naoya is crude, foul-mouthed and incredibly ill-mannered. You dare compare him to a baby, only able to make noise and say absolutely nothing of value. You don't understand anything he says, you just know that none of it is the sweetness you've been taught to uphold by your governess or your mother.
Oh, your mother... she never wanted this for you, but she was just as powerless as you were against your father.
Now, you're stuck in this stuffy party, hiding behind an embroidered fan of your favourite colour, dying to find some fresh air and to get out of this dreaded corset. The bodice was so tight, you couldn’t bear to take a nibble a single macaron that yearned so dearly for!
Naoya was prattling on about some tryst he witnessed in front of a boutique, how a lady was “fussing over nothing” when she noticed a large manhole uncovered on the street. Apparently, she should understand that workers are not idiotic enough to fall into such things. Only a woman would make a mistake like that, of course…
“-and so, I told her to get on with her day! Women have no right to comment on the work of men anyways—not like they’ve worked a day in their life!” your betrothed cackles, his champagne flute sloshing with the golden bubbles.
He pays no mind to you, doesn’t even notice when you slip away. He doesn’t care—not when there are pretty, shiny, new, and busty things crowding around him.
Ever curious, you find yourself tracing the intricate trims that line the walls of the ballroom, finding yourself out in the grandiose lobby of the Zenin Estate. Deep ebony and rich, blood-like velvet decorate the olden halls, hiding plenty of secrets of the family home. There are surely things to discover, things to play with, and there’s not a soul in sight to stop you.
Your lace-covered fingers poke and prod at whatever you find pretty or interesting, revealing portraits of beloved sons and nephews—not a woman in sight save for two little twins, who you hope to meet one day. It seemed like a common thing here to disregard the women, but there was one mystery you didn’t know how to solve…
A painting, hidden in the eastern-most wing of the estate. It’s the most rundown of the home, with cobwebs and critters running amuck and creaky floorboards. Candles flicker and curtains sway, as if a second wind follows your every step, but the painting…
You had to pull back a cloth, dust flying as you cough and choke on the little particles. The reveal was… saddening.
A mother, a father, and two sons. The husband stood tall and proud, straight as a board in his tailored suit. His eldest son stood with him, just as straight-faced and unamused. The wife was elegant, almost ethereal, as she sat up in her seat with the youngest in her lap.
But his face was marred, the canvas torn to leave him out—like he was some kind of stain.
It was obvious he was no Naoya, who was considered the pride of this family—His fate will be sealed when you marry, when he proves he can bring an heir that will be as strong as him and assure that a woman like you can be kept demure and obedient. This boy, who may very well be dead, was erased for a reason.
You don’t think much of it. No need to dwell on family matters anymore, for you will live your life simply to warm a bed and nothing more, nothing less.
Your feet lead you to the nearest double-doors, brushing the mystery away in favour of a new adventure.
It was unlocked, free to whomever you assume, but inside seemed incredibly… lived-in.
Maximalist in style, a makeshift bed of sorts is made of mismatched pillows and fur blankets. Candelabras are lit with wax clumsily spilling over in amber heaps on tables and an aged grand piano, a fireplace crackles weakly, and half-finished music scores litter the floor. Tucked into the corner, far from any moonlight, is a bed fitted with satin and a withered canopy which barely is held together at the bottom. The lines not accompanied by a window are lined with bookshelves dusted in a thin layer of time.
Your heart was racing—this is clearly someone’s room. A poet, perhaps? A jester? An at-home pianist? You snoop around, gazing at the sheets on the piano’s music stand. The music is barely legible, even to your trained eyes. Before you could attempt to lay a finger on a key, a voice throws you back into the world.
“A little bride found her way to my room, hm? Shouldn’t you be at a party, lover?”
Your brows pinch together as you snap your gaze to the door. The man’s voice is a low, husky baritone, making you shift uncomfortably… something was wrong with your stomach…! And it got worse just by looking at him!
Gunmetal-blue eyes look into yours expectantly. He’s tall and muscular, his frame filling the left side of the doorway. The poet’s shirt he wore is undone, revealing the scarred expanse of his upper chest, and his trousers fit snugly around toned thighs. He looked good enough to- No! You’re about to be married…!
But he’s quite handsome… ink-like hair, tousled and tickling behind his ear, fitted with a scar on the right of his lip… handsome indeed.
With a raised brow and a knowing smirk, he held in his hand a bottle of wine and a plate of charcuterie in the other.
“Do you intend to speak or will you keep staring…?” the mystery man chuckles, stepping forward after toeing off his boots. “Or do you want a nibble before I kick you out? I won’t judge—nobles rarely let women like you eat these days.”
He’s bigger up close, standing just a few feet away from you at the piano. The ravenette leans forward, his shaggy bangs curtaining his chiseled face. “I don’t bite, little dove. This old dog can’t hunt anymore.”
You step back a little, wary of this stranger.
“Sorry- sorry…” you stammer out, intimidated by the hulking size of him. “I-I was just exploring. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
He snorts. “Not intruding if you’re going to become the lady of the estate. It isn’t like I get guests anyways, but we’re bound to meet at some point with how things are here.”
The man sets the wine and plate down on the bench, bowing lazily right after.
“Toji Zenin. Nice to finally meet the little princess of the [L/N] Family,” he introduces himself, a sluggish grin on his face.
But he was supposed to be dead?
You’ve heard the stories—a rough fight with his father ended up with him thrown down a well, all because he had no interest in upholding the family’s values and futures. The press had claimed him dead, just like the rest of them. His mother died of heartbreak, his father died of shame. His brother? He “died too soon”, according to the gravestone. That’s why it was Naoya’s right.
But here he is—Toji Zenin—breathing the same air as you.
“Yeah. That’s me,” he grunts, standing up straight. “Eat, then leave… I’m sure we’ll meet when-“
Toji sighs, turning his back to you after snatching the wine off the bench and plopping himself into the mess of pillows and furs.
“No. I’m actually a ghost,” he sighs, popping the cork out with ease. “A ghost that knows how to climb very well.”
You grow curiouser and curiouser—enough to find yourself sitting with him amongst the plush and the stolen wine…
“-and my mother didn’t die of heartbreak because of my death, but because of my father, so don’t let that brat Naoya oink poison into those pretty ears of yours. I’m perfectly capable of leading whatever rat company we own, I just didn’t care for it,” Toji sighs, his head resting in his palm as he watches you poke at a grape. “My mother loved music more than anything… and I loved her, so I chose that instead. Father hated it, chose my brother instead before he died too.”
“So you chose your happiness over the company?”
“You understand, hm, little bride?” the older man chuckles, taking a slice of salami for himself. “Had I known I’d be betrothed to a little treasure like you, I’d be more inclined to take up the company, but… It’s a little late, isn’t it?”
Your heart pounds. Being married to a man like him doesn’t seem bad, especially now that you know he doesn’t share the same ideals as the rest of the men in this family.
“Has he shown you his, uhm… bedroom talents?” Toji snorts, recalling the times he’s heard paid women storm out on Naoya because he was just that awful in bed.
“Such things will be saved-“
“For after, eh? Figures. You were raised to be a perfect one,” he hums, eyes locked on yours when he cuts you off. He knew you’re a virgin, he just wanted to hear you say it. “Not even a kiss?”
You grow embarrassed. Are you really that predictable? He notices your knit brows and comforts you with a gentle caress.
“Ahh, don’t pout. Nothing wrong with that,” he chuckles, leaning in a little more to whisper lowly.
“How about a little lesson, yeah?”
Toji always hated corsets. They were a pain to get off of a lady in the heat of the moment, so he was always a firm believer that they should stay on the ground or in a bin to be forgotten, and that’s exactly what has happened here.
Your breath is hot against his collarbone as he kisses at your hairline, his bulge grinding against your bare folds. You had been stripped completely naked save for the lacy thigh-highs that clung to you—perhaps his favourite part of lady’s wear. You were cuter like this, in his arms and grinding on his cock mere days before your wedding ceremony.
“T-Toji, I can’t—!” you cry out, the canopies swaying gently as he ruts against you.
“If a little petting gets you so heated, I can only imagine how you’ll sound with a cock inside you,” your evening lover chuckles, calloused fingers threading into the back of your hair so you’ll meet his warm gaze. “You’ll look for this everywhere when I’m done with you, little dove.”
You whimper at his teasing, fingers clutching tight at his broad shoulders as he slowly drags his hips against your ass. His shirt was long gone, the scarred flesh of his chest visible to you in the candlelight.
“Don’t stop-“ you whimper, feeling your stomach knot and toes curl as your legs wrap around his waist.
“No? Well, if the little bride is demanding such…” Toji grins devilishly, kissing you feverishly—clumsily. “Who am I to deny?”
He kisses you as if a god had willed it, like it was his sole purpose. You can’t help but get lost in his touch, to live in this fantasy that he is your husband and not that man-child. Toji is almost like the man you would pray for before bed, the prince you wish to be in your stories—a romantic, an artist… a man who will provide and pamper.
Toji’s breath is heavy and hot as he leans down to nip at your neck, one of his hands coming down to grope at your chest. Your perfume was intoxicating, the light layer of sweat balancing out the sweetness… he can’t help himself, not when you open yourself to him so sweetly, so easily.
Naoya will never satisfy you.
Not when Toji’s cock reaches depths you could only dream of, not when his hands so easily encompass your waist to aid his relentless pounding.
The echo of skin against skin creates a wonderful symphony, your voice being one he could only hear in dreams when he’d tirelessly compose song after song. He could do this forever if he could—live in your embrace until the day you’re whisked away.
Your puffy cunt creates a creamy ring around the base of his cock, the slick sounds of your fucking a steady rhythm as he messily entwines tongues with you. “Sweet- hngh… and so- tight—!”
Toji speaks between kisses, brows furrowing together as he loses himself in the velvet heat of your deflowered cunt. If heaven was real, then you must be the angel they sent to him. It’s a shame he’s a man that is unable to resist temptation… he would have courted you proper had it not been for the inconvenient circumstances you both live.
But you’re both here now, and he will teach you everything he knows about pleasing a woman.
“You’re mine,” Toji growls, baritone voice wavering slightly as he drives his cock in and out, grunting bits of his words between each pump. “You’ll come to me- when he- doesn’t- satisfy.”
“And you’ll let him hear- every fucking moan, and- grrgh, fuck- every-fff—haah- every time…!” Toji sputters, feeling his release coming. His balls tighten as he nearly collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he pants and whines like a dog. “This cunt…! nggh, fuck—!”
“P-please! I can’t…!” you mewl pathetically, unable to stop the way your body clenches up and prepares for your climax. Toji feels like you’re trying to choke his cock, but he continues, powering through your tight, wet heat.
There’s not a damn thing in this world that could convince him to pull out—not when your little cunt is so hot and just begging for his seed.
The mess oozes out of you in milky globs when he finally unsheathes his fat cock from your hole, the sticky slit puffy from the ruthless pounding he gave it. Toji can’t help but let out a breathless laugh at the sight.
Well, it seems like plans have changed.
“Zenin, if you did anything to my daughter!”
The commotion in the parlour could be heard throughout the entire Zenin Family Estate. The daughter of the [L/N] Family had been missing since last night’s soirée in honour of the two family’s union. Unbeknownst to them, you were perfectly safe, swaddled up in velvet and a shirt from Toji’s closet.
And if you speak of the devil, he shall arrive.
“Everyone’s quite vibrant today,” the black sheep of the Zenin bloodline emerges, stepping into the parlour in a more elevated attire—one fitting for a noble gathering. Naoya scowled. It was unusual for his reclusive cousin to appear, especially so well kept.
“Cousin… can we help you?” the young heir sneers. He figures Toji is off to go fuck another harlot and act like he’s high class.
“Yes, actually,” Toji yawns, running a hand through his raven-black hair before throwing himself into an armchair. “I’ll need a few papers.”
“For what? Moving away? We have more pressing matters, you fucking baboon—!”
“I’ll need the deed under my name, so I’ll be having a lawyer meet with everyone as a family. Oh, and a wedding coordinator,” Toji hums, beckoning a maid over for a glass of wine. Naoya gawks at him, as if the fool had grown a second head.
“Are you an idiot? This estate will be-“
“Mine. And my wife’s, as my parent’s had intended,” Toji sniffles, rubbing his nose as he lounges. Your parents look around confused—is this the Toji Zenin that died nearly a decade ago? Naoya scoffs at these insane statements.
“You’ve no wife, you fool-!”
“No, you’ve no wife,” Toji groans, tired of playing now. “Nor fortune, nor dignity. Actually, just leave. I’ll settle this quietly with my lawyers, cousin. Now, may I speak to my in-laws privately?”
“I-in-laws!? What in the bloody hell are you prattling on about, Toji!?” Naoya grabs Toji’s collar, pulling him up and facing his lazy smile head-on.
“No prattling here. Just the truth, cousin,” Toji grins, knowing and triumphant over the intolerable brat.
“After all, I’ll have a child soon. It’s only right I get to speak to their grandparents.”
