──── 🐁 cw stepcest-adjacent, cheating, dubcon
lazy ass bum toji worms his way into your life by way of your widowed mother. your father, having left behind generous savings and a lavishly furnished house worth enough to call your abode “comfortable” to guests, couldn’t have foreseen your mother moving on mere months after his death. and neither did you.
perhaps that’s why you’re such a bitch about it. you come home for the holidays just to snap at him, pushing his buttons in front of your mom to see if he’ll crack. if he’ll show her enough of his money-grubbing ego to have her disillusioned.
naturally, he’ll get booted out. and then, you reason, things will go back to normal.
but, weirdly enough, your behavior doesn’t deter him. if anything, the more irritable you get, the bigger his god-awful simper spreads.
what you’ve failed to account for is that toji loves a challenge. even more so if it means getting a one-up on stuck-up brats like you—pretty ones that lounge around in cute cotton camisoles and sleep shorts so tight he swears he can see everything, brows furrowed as they pout up at him.
he fantasizes about bending you over the knee and slapping your pussy for every time you’ve called him a broke old man. hooking his fingers—two, and he’s sure you’d already be crying out his name—inside your cunt and spreading you open, scissoring, targeting your most sensitive areas. calloused thumb working at your clit until your toes curled and your eyes rolled back with a gasp.
no, no… he’d start slow, first. he’d pull down that wretched camisole and give your pretty tits some love, swirling his tongue just shy of your nipple before closing his lips and sucking. and because he’s a generous man, he’d fondle your other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between two fingers. so neither one is lonely.
maybe he’ll do it in your sleep, someday, so you can wake up and whine his name like you do when you complain. he wonders what expression you’d make.
on the days you’re particularly bratty, he dreams of harsher things. taking you from the back, sinking into you so you feel his dick like a weight pinning you to the bed. thrusting in and out slow, painstakingly so, broad hand just below the nape of your neck to press you into the mattress. he knows you’d be sopping wet. your glares can’t hide the way your thighs shift at the rumble of his voice.
if you asked him to pull out, he’d comply with a snort—slipping out slow and pressing his tip flush against your clit. your hips would jolt into the mattress, trying to escape from the pleasure, and he'd sneer. you've always been flighty.
then, to deny you the grace of getting away, he'd spread your slick up and down your folds with his length, before notching right back at your entrance. sinking in slow to feel the way your walls milk him in, cunt fluttering as you struggled to take his length. he'd fuck you so thoroughly you’d be ruined for anyone else—and sure, you’d take some stretching out... but you’re a strong girl. you could take it.
when he’s in the living room and you’re down for breakfast, he seriously considers coming up behind you and reaching for a glass, just to slot his thigh between your parted legs. he’d be mean about it, too—raising just high enough that you’d have to rest your weight on him. he’d run his warm hands down your sides, to your hips, sliding you up his thigh and grinding your twitchy clit against hard muscle until you got your sleep shorts niiice and soaked.
what would you do, then? bite your lip and glare? moan? the idea is so enticing he nearly follows through.
alas, toji would rather not go back to living paycheck-to-paycheck, and feeling up his benefactor’s daughter is a surefire way to get dumped. so he resigns himself to watching from afar. and perhaps snatching the occasional lingerie here and there, for purposes he surmises are glaringly obvious.
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