welcome to honey n' doves : a bakery with a slice of heaven, just for you ˚. ᵎᵎ i'm your resident angel: dove ؛ ଓ she.they, viet, pan, ᵎᵎ extremely sleepy … expert lurker.
ʚɞ pastries may contain traces of love serum: 18+ MDNI.
°❀.ೃ࿔ xavier's angel &&. satoru's girl &&. toji's princess. ഒ
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ 𝐝𝐨𝒗𝐞’𝒔 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝒄𝐢𝒂𝒍𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 ˚. ᵎᵎ
→ ʚ m.list ɞ
→ ʚ rules ɞ
→ ʚ socials ɞ
→ ʚ introduction ɞ
today's specials :
- fattening up gymrat toji.
- reviving the cigarette with suguru.
- nerd! toji is a little weird.
hymns of an angel :
# loved by dove : dove's favorites ഒ
# dove thoughts : rambles + asks ഒ
# recipe testing : drabbles n ideas ഒ
# baked by dove : all of my works ഒ
❀ུ۪ ﾟ might be moving my blog to another one since this one is forever jailed </3 it’ll probably be under the same name and the name for this one will be changed most likely. <33 also lemon bars ?
suguru loves the taste of cigarettes, but he might love the taste of your lips on his a little more.
sfw : fluff, but kinda suggestive. satoru's little sister, smoking, shotgunning, suguru talks you through it kinda, very sensual, not really proof read. slight age gap. older brother's best friend trope. kinda punk suguru if you squint. ❀ུ۪ ﾟ
the three of you sit outside on the balcony, heavy blanket thrown across the wooden slats. there’s a shoddily made charcuterie board in the middle, mostly chips and beef jerky— whatever your brother, satoru, could find at the gas station on the way home from work. oh, and a shitty bottle of liquor. the kind that makes your nose burn on the way down and gets you black out drunk in four swigs minimum.
you’re sitting across from them, floaty and warm beneath the first true spring night, listening to suguru pluck at the strings of his guitar.
you can’t take your eyes off of him, his piercings, his silky black hair that rivals those shitty adverts on tv. he’s so… pretty. so outrageously pretty.
he can surely feel your stare on him. deep amethyst flick up from his hands, the fingers that slowly strums a melody to fill the void, and settles on you. heavy, daring. for a moment, you swear you see a sultry smirk pull onto his lips. it sends heat straight up your spine, and you tear your eyes away as if you’ve been burned.
luckily, satoru doesn’t realize, rather, he’s digging through his tote bag and groaning with a heavy sigh.
“damn, i forgot to buy those sour ropes,” he shakes out the rest of the random snacks and a pack of marlboro golds, those were definitely suguru’s. “c’mon, suguru, let’s walk down to the conbini,”
“what? why do i have to go? you’re the only who likes those things,” he’s barking back, head whipping towards the white haired man.
“c’monnnn, i don’t wanna walk down there alone, it’s creepy!”
“what if your mom wakes up? how is she gonna cover when both of us are gone? we swore that we wouldn’t go any where else tonight,”
the two bicker back and forth as you reach for the unopened pack of cigarettes, inspecting them with the curiosity of a mischievous cat. you’ve never smoked before, and this is one of the first times satoru even let you joined the two of them to drink. something about how he doesn’t want his little sister to fry her brain before she even finishes up her freshman year in college.
“just go by yourself, it’s barely a 10 minute walk. i’ll stay and make sure this one doesn’t get any drunker,”
this catches your attention, an offended noise thrown at suguru as you huck a cracker at him.
satoru groans one more before standing up from his original spot, tugging his coat closer to him. a soft nudge at suguru’s thigh with a knowing look.
“don’t let her smoke. if my mom wakes up, just say i’m in the bathroom or something,” there’s something else in the lilt of his voice, something that sounds like he’s telling the both of you to behave for his 20 minute trip down to the corner store for some damn candy.
suguru and you wave him off with a promise of no funny business and wait until the sounds of his footsteps disappear behind the balcony door. the first time you two have been alone together in a very long time.
his stare returns and the feeling prickles the hair behind your neck to stand. molten amethyst that bleeds into something that feels like fervor, a quiet want. you don’t realize that he’s placed your socked feet into his lap, replacing his guitar as he strokes meaningless shapes across the smooth skin of your calf.
you take another small swig, just for confidence.
“you heard the man, i can’t let you smoke.” it’s the first thing he says to you, teasing as he reaches over to grab the pack still in your hands. it’s fresh, new, with the plastic still on it that he tears away with his teeth.
even if you wanted to, you can’t peel your gaze from him. if anything, you’re scooting closer across the blanket, forgoing all the red flags.
suguru, your brother’s best friend. the boy who used to push you all too high on the swings until you’re crying out of fear. the boy who would slide you his free lunch cookie as he’s leaving with a wink, catching the attention of all the girls in your grade. the same boy who grew out of that lanky figure into something more… broader. fuller. he kept his hair long and got his lip pierced. (that had him sleeping on your parents’ couch for a few days.) he never stopped teasing you, either.
and tonight was no exception.
your gaze betrays you, needy and curious as he cracks open the old pack, the scent of tabacco addictive and pleasing. he brings you even closer and holds the fresh sticks under your nose. they’re not as strong as you thought they’d be.
“they smell nice,” you murmur, lithe hands curling around his wrist to keep him from pulling away.
“they smell better like this, you’ll find it too bitter once they start burning,”
your eyes flick from the pack to him, glossy lips parted in a way that makes him want to groan. they would look so pretty wrapped around a cigarette— god, he’s a terrible influence.
“can i try a little bit? just some of yours,” you ask like it’s a piece of cake, not some addictive cancer stick.
he’s already digging around in his leather jacket pocket for his lighter, a shiny little white lighter that has a little heart you drew on it many months before. satoru had asked who drew on it their last smoke sesh and suguru didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was you. when you were crashing at his dorm after an argument with your parents and you drew a sweet little heart on the white plastic. lied with a smirk on his lips.
“only a little, sweet girl. he’ll kill me if you get addicted,” thin, callused fingers pluck a stick from the box and he holds it in between his lips.
you watch carefully, more attention than needed in all honesty, but you’re half way in his lap and you want to kiss at his jaw so badly that he can hear your heartbeat in your throat.
“when you first light a cigarette, you don’t just hold the flame up to the tip.” a flicker of sparks and a small flame ignites, the soft light warm between the two of you. “you breathe in, or you risk the cig dying,”
suguru’s empty hand squeezes at the soft flesh of your thigh and demostrates exactly what he was talking about. flame up to the tip of the cigarette, he breathes in deep and heavy until the tabacco begins to glow a soft orange.
the bitter scent and the smell of smoke fills the open air and you find your own breath caught. this is the scent that always clings to him, quiet on his clothes in a way that makes you savor ever gulp of air. though, this is barely the end of your lesson.
“open up.” your lips part with little coaxing and you feel the skin of his thumb brush at your cheek. a silent praise. you’re so pretty when you listen to him.
suguru blows the plume of smoke onto your awaiting tongue, letting you taste the flavor of your bittersweet demise.
you sputter, cough a little, before breaking out into some love sick sort of smile. maybe it’s the lingering alcohol in your system, or the fact you only have a few shitty crackers in your stomach, but your mind feels like it’s in a state of euphoria. every light touch he leaves on your skin, the plush of your cheek and down the length of your spine. god, you’re dizzy.
“too much, baby?” he purrs against the top of your head, chuckling at how quickly you sputter out a no. “if it’s not too much then, how about a proper drag?”
he’s holding out the cigarette against the spring wind, embers glowing bright underneath the dim light of the stars, and holds your chin as gentle as a man like him can. your lean forward first, unsure, maybe even a little nervous, tongue still burning from the smoke before, and part your lips once again.
“slowly, that’s it, sweet girl,” you breathe in under his quiet instruction, careful until your feel a small warmth linger at the back of your throat. you pull away, inhaling, only to cough out a cloud of grey. the two of you bleed into a flurry of chuckles and your eyes prickle with tears. you manage to keep your coughing to a minimum after a bit, using the sleeve of your sweater to pat away the little crystalline tears that line your waterline. ”marlboro’s are strong, ‘guru— oh,”
the two of your notice the lack of glow from the cigarette, dead from the cold wind and the lack of attention after your little fit. suguru huffs out another laugh. ”dead cigarette, you’re gonna have to revive it.”
“revive it? don’t i just re-light it?”
silvery black locks fall over amethyst eyes as he shakes his head, holding up the cigarette to your lips again. you’re still staring up at him, the lack of distance between you two more noticeable now.
“you’ll burn more, waste it. put your lips back onto it, sweetheart— yeah that’s it. now blow, instead of inhale.”
the stick struggles, the wrapper fizzling as the embers try to relight themselves with your effort. you try one more time and suguru hums with approval. it’s his turn to try as well, and after a few more tries, the cigarette glows bright once more. the two of you take turns breathing in smoke, letting it settle deep into your lungs and then dissipate beneath the fairy lights that hang from the railings of your balcony.
you like this, you love this actually. the silence that doesn’t necessarily have to be filled between you two. perched between his thighs and his thumb rubbing slow, insistent circles on your hip. something low and sensual floats between whatever space is left, and you cherish the last fleeting moments of the burning cigarette. the ash burns away until there’s just enough left for one long drag. the filter is yellow at this point, stained with your lip gloss, and suguru has half the heart to keep the butt.
just as a reminder. just as a memory of you tonight, sitting as pretty as a princess.
“baby?” he takes the last, long, long puff, inhaling the carcinogens like it was the freshest air on earth.
you look at him, properly this time, still hazy as the alcohol fizzles beneath your skin.
and his lips are on yours. perhaps he found a new addiction along side nicotine, and in his opinion? you’re gonna be a much bigger problem than a pack of cigarettes.
baker's note: i need to smoke with punk suguru who talks me though it. i actually don't really like marlboros, im used to pretty light cigs back in vietnam. i'm currently rationing a pack of these orange flavored chinese marlboros though. <3
❥ 𝓗OW TO BAG A HOT DILF: 5-STEP BEGINNER’S GUIDE !
𝓼ummary: the hot, grumpy dad next door won’t give you the time of day? here’s how to make him fuck you stupid anyway. warning: side effects may include pregnancy.
❥ STEP 1 — commit to the bit (and the bit is wanting him SO bad you’re willing to risk federal charges)
you don’t believe in love at first sight. you’re not that kind of girl.
but lust at first sight?
yeah. that one had you in a chokehold the second you saw him hauling a case of bottled water into his apartment, dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants and a faded black tank top— one that clung to the broad curve of his back like it owed you something. like it knew what it was doing.
he didn’t even look at you. not really. just grunted out a soft “hey” when you passed, voice low and rough like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days, and disappeared into the dark crack of his doorway with a hand scrubbing at the back of his neck, muscles flexing under golden skin and black ink.
you’ve been down so fucking bad ever since.
toji fushiguro.
your across-the-hall neighbor. father of one. age: probably late thirties. height: unfair. attitude: uninterested.
the kind of man who walks around the building shirtless at night with a beer in hand, who leaves his door cracked open when he’s working out in the living room, who definitely has a “don’t talk to me” aura and the look of someone who’s been burned by love and never really recovered from it.
and of course, of course, that’s exactly your type.
(but in your defense, it’s not like this came out of nowhere. you’ve always had a thing for older men. it’s the deep voice, the scars, the rough hands and emotional unavailability. it’s the way they look at you like they’ve lived five lives and none of them ended well. also? your dad never called you back after your high school graduation. so. connect the dots.)
it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you were just supposed to move in.
fresh start. new city. small apartment, low rent, okay view. the listing said “quiet neighborhood” and you said “sure, whatever” because all you needed was a clean kitchen and decent lighting. you didn’t ask for a brooding, musclebound dilf living directly across the hall like some kind of cruel test of character.
but now?
you’ve memorized the exact time he leaves in the morning. you know which beer he drinks. you know the sound of his shower turning on. you’ve adjusted your hallway appearances to “casually hot girl next door” levels and tried every combination of crop top and pajama shorts known to man.
and the worst part?
he hasn’t made a single move. not one. no smirk. no side-eye. not even the classic “didn’t know girls like you lived around here” line. he’s just… normal. silent. borderline rude. polite only when necessary, otherwise acts like you barely exist.
you wave when you see him— he nods.
you held the elevator door once and he told you, “don’t worry about it,” like he was doing you a favor by taking the stairs.
you’ve walked past him in tight leggings, skimpy pajama shorts, cute little tank tops with no bra underneath, but still, nothing.
not even a flicker of interest. not even a glance.
at first, you thought maybe he wasn’t into it. maybe he had a secret wife. maybe he was— god forbid— celibate.
but then you caught him on the balcony one night. shirtless. sweaty. cigarette between his fingers, hair pushed back, staring off into the distance like he was thinking about his tragic backstory. and when you stepped out to water your plants, leaned just slightly over the railing in your tiniest shorts—
his eyes dropped.
slow. deliberate.
right to your thighs.
then back up to the skyline like nothing happened.
and that’s when you knew.
he’s not blind. he’s just resisting.
which brings you to now.
standing in front of his door like a fucking maniac, heart pounding like you’re about to ring the bell at the gates of horny hell, holding a suspiciously clean, never-before-touched envelope you pulled from the depths of your junk drawer ten minutes ago.
it’s addressed to his unit, obviously.
but it’s been in your apartment the entire time.
because you’re a liar.
and you’re going to get your neighbor’s attention if it kills you.
the door opens faster than you expect. no warning creak, no slow reveal— just a single click and then bam, it’s open, and there he is.
up close. full resolution. shirtless again. grey sweats again. taller than he looked in the hallway. and staring down at you like he’s trying to figure out whether you’re here to sell something or commit a crime.
his hair is messy— fresh out the shower messy, strands curling a little at the ends, pushed back and damp like he towel-dried and gave up halfway. a faint scratch trails down his collarbone. there’s a tattoo peeking from under his left pec. you are not okay.
“…yeah?” he asks, voice still that same low, unbothered gravel. like he was just in the middle of something. like you interrupted him.
you blink once. then twice. and hand him the envelope as if it’s some kind of peace offering.
“this was in my mailbox,” you say, a little too fast. “but it’s for your unit.”
he glances down. doesn’t take it yet. his brow furrows.
“…you live in 402, right?”
your heart drops. you manage a nod. “yeah.”
he looks back at the envelope, then back at you, and cocks his head a little. “this says 404.”
“right,” you nod again, smiling like a liar. “which is your unit.”
there’s a pause. a long one.
toji squints slightly, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to decide whether you’re stupid or suspicious. then— finally— he sighs, takes the envelope from your hand with two fingers, and mutters, “thanks.”
and then. then. a small voice behind him:
“who’s at the door?”
you peek past him instinctively—
and there he is. a kid. dark-haired, serious-looking, big eyes and bigger pout. tiny arms crossed over a cartoon t-shirt like he pays rent. he clocks you immediately, gaze traveling from your face to your outfit and back again, like he’s judging you in 4K.
toji looks over his shoulder. “just the neighbor. ‘gumi, go back inside.”
“you said we could watch something,” the kid says, very clearly not moving. very clearly invested.
“yeah, and i will,” toji sighs, the kind of sigh that sounds like he’s already used to negotiating with a tiny lawyer. “in a minute.”
you’re standing here braless, in a crop top and fluffy socks, trying to flirt with a dilf, and his child— his ten-year-old child— is right there in the background watching this all go down like it’s an episode of Love Is Blind: Divorce Court Edition.
you panic. you smile. you crouch slightly like a Girl Who Is Good With Kids™ and wave.
“you were singing in the stairwell yesterday,” he adds, like he’s filing a noise complaint.
toji exhales through his nose, clearly already tired. “alright,” he mutters, shifting his weight as if he’s trying to end this conversation with his entire body. “thanks for dropping this off.”
you panic again. you’re spiraling. this is not going to plan. you were supposed to be effortlessly hot, a little mysterious, maybe get invited in for a drink. instead you’re sweating through your tank top, getting stared down by a ten-year-old and dismissed like some door-to-door scam.
abort mission. regroup.
you nod, stepping back quickly. “no problem! anytime.”
he doesn’t respond. just closes the door halfway and disappears, voice fading as he calls back to megumi— “pick a movie that isn’t garbage this time” —before the door clicks shut behind him.
silence.
the hallway feels colder now.
you stand there for a second. maybe two. then turn on your heel and march straight back to your apartment, locking the door behind you with a little more force than necessary and collapsing onto your couch with a dramatic, miserable groan.
okay. so maybe the fake-mail delivery thing was a bust. maybe you didn’t make the strongest first impression. maybe megumi’s gonna go to school on monday and tell his friends he saw a thirsty neighbor try to seduce his dad and fail in real time.
but you’re not giving up!
because toji fushiguro isn’t oblivious. he looked. you know he looked.
he’s just being difficult. reserved. nonchalant. you love that shit. it’s practically a challenge.
which brings you to:
❥ STEP 2 — establish neighborly rapport (aka: force more interactions)
you’ve already had contact. now it’s time for consistency. eye contact. hallway banter. the illusion of familiarity. you’re gonna bump into him enough that he has no choice but to acknowledge your existence— and then? then you’ll break him down. slowly. methodically. emotionally.
you have a plan.
a little awkward start isn’t gonna stop you. not when he looks like that with wet hair and lazy sweatpants. not when his voice sounds like it could ruin your entire sense of self-worth with a single sentence.
step two starts tomorrow.
or tonight, depending on how bold you feel. your package is supposed to arrive soon— you could just happen to be outside when it gets delivered. or drop something near his door again. or, worst case scenario, start a small fire and see if he comes running.
you’re in too deep to turn back now.
besides— if megumi’s already seen you at your worst, there’s nowhere to go but up.
you start running into him a lot more.
not in a weird way. you’re not, like, stalking. you’re just… situationally strategic.
like this morning— how coincidentally, you happened to take your trash out the exact moment he left for a run. and when he walked past you in those same criminally low-hanging sweatpants, headphones in, shirt clinging to his chest like it wanted you dead? yeah. totally natural timing.
you smiled. waved. gave a little “morning!”
he gave you a nod and kept jogging.
progress.
and yesterday? you timed your laundry schedule to line up with his, based purely on auditory research (aka: eavesdropping through the vents), and when he came down to switch out his load, you were already bent over the dryer in your tiny shorts like a good little trap.
he walked in. saw you. paused.
you straightened up way too fast and bumped your elbow, trying to look breezy while hiding the way your heart rate doubled on sight. “oh- hey! laundry day?”
toji looked at you. then at the dryer. then back at you. “…yeah.”
another pause.
god, he’s so fucking impossible.
you gave him your brightest smile and added, “mine too! small world.”
“…we live in the same building,” he said, completely deadpan, before opening the washer and pulling out a fistful of dark clothes like you weren’t trying to orchestrate a meet-cute over tide pods. he moved with the exhausted efficiency of a man who hated small talk and suspected you might be trying to sell him essential oils.
you wanted to scream. you smiled instead.
“right,” you laughed. “duh. neighbors.”
he didn’t answer. just shoved his clothes into the dryer, grabbed his detergent, and left the room like it was a hostage negotiation and you were the threat. didn’t even look back. but you saw it.
the twitch in his jaw when you bent over again. the extra second of eye contact before he left. the little crack in his silence when you giggled at your own joke and his mouth twitched— barely, but it did. you’re starting to learn his tells.
like tonight— when you caught him coming back from the grocery store, arms full of bags, and offered to hold the elevator door open for him again.
“you don’t have to,” he said, almost automatically.
but this time you didn’t let him off so easily.
you flashed a cheeky smile, cocked your head to the side, and replied, “well i want to. unless you wanna take the stairs and pretend you’re not tired.”
that got you a look. brief. amused. his lips pressed into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but not nothing either.
he stepped in and stood beside you, towering and silent and pretending he wasn’t eyeing your legs in the reflective elevator wall. you leaned against the side and grinned to yourself like a lunatic.
“what floor?” you asked, already knowing the answer. playing dumb. living your sitcom fantasy.
“…same as yours,” he muttered, setting the bags down for a second. “you know that.”
you beamed. “just making conversation.”
he sighed. quiet. tired. maybe even a little fond, but you couldn’t tell.
and then, just as the doors opened, a sleepy voice echoed from down the hall— “dad?”
toji blinked. glanced up.
megumi stood outside their apartment in socks and Spider-Man pajamas, squinting at the two of you like he was already judging this moment for future therapy sessions.
“you took forever,” he said. “i thought you died.”
“well i didn’t,” toji grunted, picking up the bags again. “get inside.”
you waved. again. because apparently, this is your life now. it’s not enough to get embarrassed in front of your crush— his preteen son also has to witness your descent into neighborhood whore madness.
megumi stared. then looked at his dad. then back at you.
“…hi.”
victory.
you’re three days into operation ‘establish rapport’ and you swear it’s working. slowly. he’s still playing it cool— gruff, quiet, annoyingly unaffected— but you’re catching those little cracks. the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. the tiny pauses before he responds. the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you smile too wide. the way he takes just a little too long to look away.
he’s slipping.
and you’re gonna be right there to catch him.
❥ STEP 3 — engineered domestic proximity (create a situation where he owes you and then emotionally blackmail him with kindness!)
it starts with a fake injury.
not like, hospital fake. just a little casual suffering. something light and flirty and “damn she might be unwell” coded.
you pick a thursday. the hallway’s quiet. you hear his door open— the soft clink of keys, the slow creak of the hinge— and then you strike.
toji turns the corner just in time to see you slumped against your apartment door, barefoot, hair a mess, hoodie slipping off your shoulder, clutching your ankle like a romcom extra who’s about to fall in love with the first man who offers her an ice pack. you even let out a pitiful little “ugh,” as though gravity personally attacked you.
he stops. eyes narrow.
“…what the hell happened to you?”
you wince, voice trembling perfectly as you look up at him with wide eyes and say, “i tripped on the stairs.”
technically true. you did, in fact, trip. you just made sure it was today. and loud enough for him to hear.
“you didn’t even leave your apartment,” he deadpans, looking absolutely done.
“…gravity’s everywhere.”
he sighs like you’re the world’s most annoying problem. runs a hand over his face. and then crouches down.
you try not to short-circuit.
his hand wraps around your ankle— casually, confidently, like he’s done this a hundred times before, and his thumb brushes over your skin, rough and warm and way too distracting. he presses, checks the joint, and you flinch very dramatically.
he doesn’t react. “it’s not broken.”
you pout. “still hurts.”
toji gives you a long, tired look. then rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, probably something that sounds suspiciously like “fucking drama queen,” but reaches out anyway. big hands slide under your legs and back, and suddenly you’re being lifted. literally carried.
you make a noise that is not normal.
“jesus,” he grunts, shifting you in his arms. “what the hell do you eat?”
“excuse me??”
“relax,” he says, toeing open your apartment door. “you’re light.”
you are going to die here.
he carries you across the threshold like a goddamn bride and sets you down gently on the couch, muttering something about “needy neighbors” as he tosses your throw blanket over your lap. then pauses. stares at you for a second too long. his brows draw together like he’s thinking something he shouldn’t be.
“…don’t move,” he says finally. “i’ll get an ice pack.”
he disappears into your kitchen— uninvited, completely aware of where your freezer is— and you clutch the blanket to your chest like it’s holy protection from your own bad decisions and whisper:
“oh my god.”
step three is officially a success.
after that, things shift.
slow. subtle. like the hallway air is warmer now. like he doesn’t avoid you anymore.
the next time you make too much pasta (on purpose), you knock on his door and offer leftovers. “just in case,” you say with a smile. he raises an eyebrow, gives you a long look, but takes the container anyway.
“it’s good,” he mutters a few days later, passing you in the hall.
you blink. “what?”
“the pasta. wasn’t bad.”
you nearly trip over your own shoes.
when you run into him carrying groceries, you casually ask if he needs anything next time you go. he grunts something about paper towels. the next day, you drop off a pack at his door with a sticky note that says ‘paper-towel princess strikes again >:)’ and you swear you hear him laugh. just once. low. barely there.
and megumi? megumi is your new little buddy.
you “accidentally” bump into them on the stairs one weekend and ask him about school— next thing you know, you’re helping him with a science project at your dining table, glitter on your shirt and glue in your hair, and he actually smiles at you when it lights up. his eyes go wide. he looks proud. you melt.
toji shows up to get him an hour later.
he stops in the doorway, arms crossed. eyes flick between you and megumi on the couch, surrounded by worksheets and snacks and a movie playing softly in the background.
“…you don’t have to babysit, y’know.”
you glance up, then nudge megumi with your shoulder. “he’s cool. we’re having fun.”
toji stares. unreadable. his jaw works like he’s chewing on something he won’t say. and then he nods. once. slow.
“…yeah. he’s good.”
he leaves with megumi five minutes later, and you spend the rest of the night curled into your couch like a girl who just got emotionally married in the hallway.
a few days pass.
and then— he knocks on your door.
you open it and nearly fall over, because he’s standing there in a black t-shirt, holding a plastic container full of something that smells like soy sauce and heaven. his hair’s messy. his jaw’s tight. he doesn’t look like he wants to be here. but he is.
“we made too much,” he says. pauses. adds, almost begrudgingly, “me and ‘gumi.”
your brain goes static.
you accept it like it’s a holy relic. your hand brushes his. it’s fine. you’re normal.
“thank you,” you breathe, like it’s something sacred.
you eat together on the steps between your units that night. plastic forks. beer for him, water bottle for you. megumi’s inside watching something with way too much volume. the hallway buzzes with soft domestic noise.
he chuckles— an actual, real chuckle— when you tell him about your failed ankle stunt getting you out of gym class in high school. it sounds like it surprises him. like it doesn’t happen often. you want to bottle the sound and save it for winter.
and then, as you’re wiping sauce from the corner of your mouth, he gives you this long, unreadable look. his eyes flick to your mouth. linger.
“you’re trouble, aren’t you?”
you almost pass out.
“yeah,” you say, smiling slow. “but i’m cute about it.”
he laughs again. soft. huffed. the kind that makes your stomach flutter in the worst/best way.
note to self: a chuckle = an emotional orgasm in dilf language.
❥ STEP 4 — desperate times, horny measures (blur the line between “friendly neighbor” and “would let you hit raw if you asked nicely”)
you’ve played the long game. you’ve laid the groundwork. you’ve smiled, cooked, lingered in doorways and memorized his hallway habits. you helped his child with a diorama. you have earned your place in this man’s orbit. and now, you’re upping the ante.
tight tank tops with no bra? daily.
asking if he needs help lifting shit? always.
bending down in front of him for no reason whatsoever? the moment requires it.
you’ve “accidentally” dropped your keys outside his door. twice.
you’ve complimented his cologne when he wasn’t wearing any.
you’ve said the phrase “you must’ve been crazy hot in your twenties” with a completely straight face and full eye contact— just to watch his eyebrow twitch like he was deciding whether to argue or kiss you.
and toji?
toji has looked.
slow. restrained. but it’s there.
the way his gaze drops and lingers. the way his hand flexes when you laugh too hard. the way he sometimes says your name like it annoys him to have it on his tongue, like he’s chewing on it instead of swallowing. you’re getting to him. you know you are.
especially tonight.
it’s late. you’re bored. your hair looks good and your shorts are criminal. and you know he’s home because you heard the clink of a beer bottle hit his counter through your shared wall. so naturally, you text him:
you up?
no response…
you try again:
i’m making cookies and need a taste tester. u down?
there’s a pause. long enough to make you regret it. then finally:
don’t burn your kitchen down.
which— okay. rude. but also? not a no.
you show up at his door with a plate of warm cookies and the dumbest smile imaginable, leaning against the doorframe like a horny little housewife in denial, praying your lip gloss doesn’t smudge when you inevitably start smiling too hard.
the door swings open. and there he is.
shirtless, because of course. low sweatpants, towel around his neck, hair still damp. a vein in his bicep flexing like it’s personally here to ruin you. he raises an eyebrow when he sees you.
“you actually baked something?”
you pout. “don’t sound so shocked.”
he huffs. not quite a laugh. steps aside and lets you in. silent permission. another small victory.
you sit on the couch, drop the plate between you. he takes a cookie. you take a risk.
“so…” you say, crossing your legs slowly, letting your voice dip soft and sweet. “what do i get if they’re good?”
toji chews. swallows. side-eyes you. “…you want a prize for not poisoning me?”
you tilt your head, smile like trouble. lean a little closer, so your thigh brushes his.
“i want something,” you murmur.
he watches you. unreadable.
your heart’s racing. your leg’s touching his. the tension is so thick it could suffocate a small village. he’s quiet. too quiet. and for a second— a single, traitorous second— you believe. believe he’s going to touch you. say something filthy. kiss you.
and then— he stands up.
you freeze.
no.
he walks to the door.
absolutely not.
he opens it.
“go home, sweetheart.”
you blink. “…what?”
he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t even flinch.
“you’ve had your fun,” he mutters, voice low. final. “time to go.”
the plate of cookies is still on the table. your lip gloss is still perfect. and this man— this walking thirst trap of a dilf— just opened the door and told you to leave as if you were an inconvenience.
you stand there for five full seconds. staring at the wood grain like it personally wronged you. your mouth opens. closes. no words come out.
no explanation. no thank you. not even a cookie to-go.
you take the hint.
you walk home— five steps that feel like a funeral march— let yourself back into your apartment with hands that won’t stop shaking, and close the door behind you like it might collapse if you don’t hold it up. then you crawl into bed, pull the blanket over your head, and try very, very hard not to cry over a man who never asked you to try this hard in the first place.
❥ STEP 5 — let him come to you (the part of the spiral where you stop trying, and he starts breaking)
you’ve stopped trying.
no more cookies. no fake run-ins or conveniently timed errands. you’re done bending over near his door like some desperate domestic goddess waiting to be claimed. no more lingering glances, no flirty texts, no smiles he could possibly mistake for an invitation
you go cold. polite. distant.
“hey,” he mutters in the hallway one morning, voice a little rough from sleep.
“morning,” you reply. clipped. unreadable. no smile.
you don’t linger. don’t wait for anything in return. you catch him glancing over when you pass, but you don’t look back. just keep walking like you’ve got better things to do than pine for a man who slams doors in your face.
when megumi finds you on the stairs the following weekend and asks if you want to help with another project, you smile softly, press a hand to the top of his head, and say, “not this week, bud. busy.” he frowns a little. you ruffle his hair, and walk away without looking up.
you start going out more.
wearing new outfits. dresses you hadn’t felt bold enough to wear before. lip gloss that makes your mouth look mean. you let strangers hold the door for you. let them compliment you. you let them linger.
you laugh too loud outside your apartment one night, on purpose, after coming back from a date with someone who isn’t him. your heels click against the floor. your voice drips with honey. you lean against your door while someone says something into your ear and you throw your head back like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.
you know he’s listening.
you feel his eyes on you like a bruise forming slow.
and then the shift begins.
it’s subtle, at first.
he starts speaking more.
“mornin’,” he grunts one day, voice thicker now. rougher.
you nod, toss him a quiet “hey.”
“new dress?” he says one night when you pass in the hallway.
you glance down at it, fingers brushing your hip. nod again. “yeah.”
he stares a second too long.
you keep walking.
the next week, he holds the elevator for you. for the first time.
you step inside without looking at him, lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. he stands beside you, silent for a second too long.
“…got plans tonight?” he asks.
you glance at him. his hand’s on the railing. his eyes are on your legs. the heat between you is palpable.
“maybe,” you shrug. “why? you wanna know if i’m free?”
he doesn’t answer. just scoffs. looks away.
but his jaw tightens. you see it.
and you smile to yourself when the elevator dings.
you don’t stop. you don’t wait.
and then— one night. late.
a knock at your door.
you weren’t expecting it. you’re in your tank top and sleep shorts, hair still a little messy, face clean of makeup. for a second you debate not opening it at all.
but then you do.
he’s there.
black t-shirt. low voice. tension rolling off him like heat. his eyes sweep over you once— bare legs, bare face, bare everything— and settle on your mouth.
you open your lips to say something but nothing comes out. for a second, he doesn’t speak. just stares. like he’s trying to remember why this was a bad idea.
“you done with your little game?” he asks finally, voice rough, jaw set.
you blink. tilt your head. heart stuttering.
“why?” you say. “you jealous?”
he exhales slow. like he’s holding something in. then steps forward, just once. close enough that his chest nearly brushes yours. the hallway hums with silence. you can feel it thickening between you—every breath, every second, every inch of space closing.
he looks down at you, jaw clenched. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them. his gaze drops to your mouth. lingers.
“you think i haven’t thought about fucking you since the first day you moved in?”
jackpot.
you smile. slow. wicked.
“well,” you murmur, stepping back just enough to tug him inside, “what are you waiting for?”
❥ STEP 5.1 — fuck the dilf. repeatedly!! (aka: daddy finally breaks, and so does your spine)
the door isn’t even fully closed before he’s got you pinned against it, one hand slamming it shut behind you while the other grips your jaw hard enough to tilt your head back. his mouth crashes into yours— hot, hungry, furious— like he’s trying to erase every other man who’s ever looked at you, every laugh you gave someone else, every second you weren’t his.
his hands are everywhere. gripping your waist, your throat, your jaw. rough. greedy. like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through sheer force, like he doesn’t trust himself to stop once he starts. his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks, dragging you closer, forcing your body flush against his so you can feel him— hard, heavy, pressing insistently between you.
“this what you wanted, sweetheart?” he growls, dragging his mouth down your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver. “walkin’ around like that every damn day- no bra, tiny little shorts, always smilin’ at me like a fuckin’ tease—”
you gasp when he shoves his thigh between yours, grinding hard, forcing your hips to rock against him. your pussy’s already soaked— soaked enough that the friction makes your head spin, a broken little whimper slipping out before you can stop it. he feels it. of course he does.
“fuck,” he mutters, voice dropping lower, eyes darkening as he watches your face fall apart. “already wet. knew it. knew you were walkin’ around like that for me.”
“you shouldn’t be here,” you breathe, even as your hands clutch at his shirt, dragging him closer, nails digging into his back like you’re scared he’ll disappear and you’d rather die than have him pull away now.
“don’t fuckin’ care,” he snarls, cupping your pussy through your panties, pressing just enough to make your knees buckle. his thumb drags over you, feeling how drenched you are through the thin fabric. “been thinkin’ about this cunt for weeks.”
you moan— full body, spine-arching, dignity-leaving moan— as he yanks your panties to the side and sinks two fingers into you without hesitation. nothing stops him. your body takes him easily, molded for him, as though his hands belong there and they’ve always known exactly where to go.
you’re so wet it’s obscene. it squelches. it gives around him immediately, your walls fluttering, clenching like they recognize him, like they’ve been waiting.
“shit,” he hisses, pumping his fingers slow just to feel it, watching the way your face twists. “tight little thing. messy already. all that attitude just ‘cause you needed a cock in you, huh?”
you nod, crying out, grinding against his palm like a bitch in heat, chasing the friction, chasing him, hips moving on instinct, your body no longer yours to command.
he slaps your cunt. hard. you jerk, a broken sob ripping out of you.
“use your words.”
“yes, fuck, yes, i wanted this, wanted you, please- needed you so bad- been thinking about you too—”
“yeah?” he mocks, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, your knees give out. “needed daddy’s cock that bad? all that work just to get it, huh?”
he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, making eye contact while his tongue drags over his knuckles— savoring you, devouring every trace with the hunger of a man who’s finally getting what he’s craved.
you feel your face burn. your thighs tremble. your body aches.
“needy lil thing,” he mutters. “so desperate for daddy’s cock you made friends with my kid to get it.”
your mouth drops open.
“fuck,” you whisper, humiliated, horny, heart beating out of your chest. “i-i didn’t—”
“yeah, you did,” he cuts you off, voice low and certain, already tugging his sweats down. “i saw right through you. every little look. everytime you bent over in front of me like you were askin’ for it.”
his cock springs free— massive, thick, veiny, heavy against your stomach, already leaking. it twitches when he drags it through your folds, smearing your wetness all over himself, groaning under his breath at the feeling.
“watchin’ me, droppin shit in the hallway, showin’ up all cute with cookies—” he continues, voice roughening. “all so i’d fuck you like this.”
he grabs your hips. lifts you like it’s easy.
you wrap your legs around him on instinct, clinging, desperate, your ankles locking behind his back.
he slams you against the wall and shoves in deep.
you scream.
it burns for half a second— then it’s just full. overwhelming. he stretches you open, every inch fitting so perfectly it feels intentional, inevitable— your body made to take him, built around the shape of him alone.
“this what you wanted?” he growls, already moving, already setting a brutal pace, hips snapping hard into yours. “wanted daddy to stuff this sloppy little cunt so full you can’t think?”
you’re crying already. sobbing into his shoulder, nails clawing at him, dragging down his back hard enough to leave lines. “yesyes- oh my god- yes please- don’t stop, don’t stop—”
he doesn’t. he can’t.
he fucks you hard. no mercy. no build-up. just punishing, deep, filthy strokes that slam into you over and over, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your body jostling against the wall, the wet sound of it echoing in the room— proof of how wrecked you are for him.
“listen to that,” he grunts, one hand coming down to grab your ass, spreading you open, forcing himself even deeper. “fuckin’ soaked. takin’ me so easy.”
“toji—”
“nah,” he snaps, grabbing your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, eyes blown wide, mouth open, completely ruined. “say it right.”
“daddy—” you choke.
his hips stutter for half a second. then he loses it.
“yeah,” he groans, fucking into you harder, deeper, pace turning reckless. “that’s it. say it again.”
“daddy, fuck, daddy please- please don’t stop—”
“good girl,” he breathes, voice wrecked now, forehead pressing against yours. “knew you’d sound pretty sayin’ it.”
he keeps going until your legs shake so hard you can’t hold yourself up, until your body goes limp in his arms, until you’re nothing but weight and noise and need. then he drags you away from the wall, carries you like you weigh nothing, and drops you onto the couch.
your shirt’s gone in seconds. your tits spill free, bouncing when he grabs them, squeezing hard, biting one, then the other, tongue dragging over the marks he leaves, teeth sinking in just enough to make you cry out.
you whine, arching into him, completely gone, hips lifting even though you can barely move.
“look at you,” he mutters, almost to himself. “fuckin’ ruined already.”
he spits on your chest. spreads it with his thumb. then shoves you back, spreading your legs open, staring at your dripping cunt like it’s dinner, like he could spend hours there.
“not done with you yet,” he mutters.
then he dives in.
he eats you out starving— insatiable, greedy, nothing held back. hasn’t touched anyone in years, and now he’s buried in you, treating your pussy like a lifeline. his tongue moves everywhere— flicking, sucking, pushing deep, groaning into the mess he’s making, matching your desperation, needing this with the same feverish hunger you do.
“taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles against you, nose brushing your clit, making you jerk violently. “all for me, huh? all this just for me?”
you’re shaking. crying. your hands in his hair, grinding down onto his face, desperate, greedy, nasty.
“yes- fuck- yes—”
he hums, pleased, and the vibration sends you over immediately.
you cum once. then twice. he doesn’t stop. he eats you through it, moaning into your pussy while you scream and sob and claw at the cushions like a feral bitch, your thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the couch.
“too much, too much—”
“nah,” he mutters, holding you down, hands gripping your thighs so hard they’ll bruise. “you can take it.”
and you do. you take it until your body gives out and you’re nothing but a twitching, whimpering mess under him, tears streaking your face, chest heaving.
when he finally pulls back, his face is soaked. his chin’s messy. his pupils are blown so wide he looks dangerous.
he strokes his cock over your twitching cunt, dragging it through your folds, tapping your clit just to make you jolt, smearing your wetness back over you.
“you want daddy to put a baby in you next?” he growls.
your brain breaks. completely.
you whimper, nodding frantically, tears still clinging to your lashes. “yes please”
he grins. dark. cocky. dangerous.
“fuckin’ knew it.”
and then he slams back in and fucks you like he means it— like he’s trying to knock you up, ruin you, break you down and rebuild you around his dick. your body takes it, greedily, desperately, your walls clenching around him like you don’t want to let him go, like you want to keep him there.
“gonna fill you up,” he groans, thrusts getting sloppy now, deeper somehow, grinding into you. “gonna keep you full of me.”
you’re sobbing. babbling. “pleasepleaseplease—”
he finishes deep. thick. hot. doesn’t pull out. just buries himself as far as he can go and groans into your neck, hips stuttering while you feel it— feel him— filling you, spilling inside you, too much, too warm, your body fluttering around him.
he stays there. holds you. keeps you plugged with his cock while your body trembles and leaks around him.
“good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, softer now but still possessive. “took me so well.”
his hand slides down your stomach. presses there. like he’s already imagining it.
“you’re mine now.”
you barely come back to yourself before he’s moving again.
you’re still shaking. still sensitive. your cunt is pulsing, aching and full and leaking around him, your thighs sticky, your body limp and boneless against the couch. every nerve feels raw, like your skin’s been turned inside out.
and he’s still inside you.
still hard.
you let out a weak, broken sound when he shifts his hips, cock dragging inside you— slow, deliberate— he’s reminding you exactly where he is.
“toji—” you whimper, voice wrecked, barely there.
his hand tightens on your hip immediately.
“what’d i tell you?” he mutters, low and sharp.
you choke on a breath. “d-daddy—”
“yeah,” he exhales, satisfied, rolling his hips again, slower this time, savoring it. “that’s better.”
you feel everything now. every inch. every drag. the way he stretches you again even though you’re already so fucked out it hurts. your walls flutter around him uncontrollably, oversensitive, and he groans at it— deep, filthy.
“fuck,” he hisses. “still squeezin’ me like that? after all that?”
“too much,” you whimper, pushing weakly at his chest, even as your hips betray you, rocking up into him. “i can’t—”
“you can,” he cuts you off, already pulling out halfway just to slam back in. you sob.
“you will.”
your body jerks with it, your tits bouncing weakly with each thrust, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto. everything feels too intense— too deep, too full, too good.
“s-sensitive—” you gasp, nails digging into his arms.
“i know,” he mutters, almost mean about it, dragging his cock against that spot again on purpose. “that’s the point.”
you cry out, back arching hard, your whole body trembling as he starts fucking you again— slower than before, but somehow worse. deeper. more intentional. every thrust aimed to make you feel it, to drag it out of you.
“so fucked out already,” he murmurs, grabbing your chin and forcing your head up so you have to meet his eyes. “can’t even think anymore, huh?”
you shake your head, tears slipping down your temples. “no—”
“all that attitude gone,” he continues, voice low, almost mocking, thumb brushing your lip. “all that mouth, and now you’re just- what?”
you swallow, breath hitching. “yours—”
his grip tightens.
“say it again.”
“yours,” you sob, louder this time. “i’m yours—”
“yeah you are,” he groans, pace picking up just a little, just enough to make your head spin again. “fuckin’ made for me, aren’t you? takin’ me like this, still beggin’ for more—”
“i’m not—” you try, voice breaking, but your hips roll into him again, chasing it, proving him right.
he laughs. low. mean.
“yeah,” he breathes. “that’s what i thought.”
his hand slides down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit— already swollen, oversensitive, aching.
you jolt hard.
“nono, please- s’too much—”
he circles it anyway.
slow.
you squeal.
your body spasms instantly, thighs clamping around him, back arching so hard it almost hurts. it hits you out of nowhere— another orgasm ripping through you before you can even process it, your cunt clenching down on him so tight he curses.
“fuuuckk,” he groans, thrust stuttering. “that’s it, there it is—”
you’re sobbing now. full-on crying. your body shaking uncontrollably as he keeps moving, keeps rubbing, using you through it.
“can’t take it- can’t—” you gasp, voice dissolving into broken sounds.
“you are takin’ it,” he says, not slowing down, not stopping, cock dragging in and out of your fluttering, oversensitive cunt while your body keeps spasming around him. “look at you. still squeezin’ me. still want it.”
you don’t even know if that’s true anymore. you just know you can’t stop reacting, can’t stop feeling.
he shifts suddenly— grabs your hips, flips you over like it’s nothing.
you yelp, barely catching yourself before your face hits the couch.
“stay,” he mutters, pressing you down, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other guiding himself back in.
you whine the second he pushes back inside— somehow deeper like this, your body folding around him differently, more exposed, more helpless.
“shit,” he breathes, gripping your hips tight. “yeah. this is better.”
and then he starts again.
hard.
faster this time.
your body jolts forward with every thrust, your cheek pressed into the cushions, your fingers clawing at the fabric as the sounds get louder, wet and messy.
“daddy—!” you cry, voice muffled, broken.
“that’s it,” he groans behind you, hand sliding up your back, gripping your neck— not choking, just holding. controlling. “say it louder.”
he fucks you deeper with every word.
“who’s pussy is this?”
“yours—!” you sob.
“who you doin’ all that shit for, huh?” he snaps, pace turning relentless again. “all that dressin’ up, all that flirtin’—”
“you—! just you—!”
“damn right.”
his hand slides down your back, grabs your ass, spreading you open again so he can watch himself disappear inside you, over and over, your cunt clinging to him like it doesn’t want to let go.
“fuckin’ made a mess of you,” he mutters, almost impressed. “can’t even keep it in.”
you can’t. it’s leaking. every thrust pushes more of him out, slick and messy, your body too full, too used.
you’re gone. completely.
he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, mouth at your ear.
“one more,” he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. “gimme one more.”
you shake your head weakly. “can’t—”
“yes you can.”
his hand finds your clit again.
you break.
your whole body locks up, a scream tearing out of you as another orgasm crashes through, sharper this time, almost painful in how intense it is, your cunt clenching so tight around him it drags him over the edge with you.
“fuck—” he groans, biting into your shoulder as he finishes again, hips stuttering hard against you, spilling deep, grinding into you as he rides it out.
you collapse under him completely.
he stays there for a second. breathing heavy. still inside you. still holding you down.
then, softer this time— just a little—
“told you,” he mutters against your skin. “you could take it.”
you don’t respond. you physically can’t.
you’re just… gone.
and he sounds way too pleased about it.
you wake up sore. sore in ways you didn’t even know were possible. your thighs ache, your hips feel bruised, your legs do not work. your pussy’s twitching— puffy, overstimulated, and leaking. there’s cum literally dripping out of you, sticky between your thighs, cooling against the sheets.
and toji’s still there.
sprawled across your bed like he owns it, like you’re his bed now, arm heavy over your waist, breathing slow against the back of your neck. his chest rises and falls steady, the heat of his body sinking into yours. it’s warm. safe. a little filthy. you can feel his cock pressed to your ass— soft, but still there, like a threat.
you’re not sure if he’s awake. you’re not sure if you’re awake. your whole body feels broken in. chewed up. worshipped. wrecked. you blink blearily at the sunlight slanting through your blinds, brain swimming in the slow syrup of morning-after haze, and shift slightly beneath the weight of him.
he moves with you. groans low, deep in his chest, like the stretch of his limbs aches. then, voice gravel-thick and sleep-rough:
“fuck. you made me pull a muscle.”
you try to laugh, but it comes out cracked. “good.”
he snorts, lazy and fond, burying his face in your shoulder and muttering, “brat.”
you hum, cheek pressed into the pillow, toes curling under the sheets. you don’t move. don’t want to. his arm tightens around your waist just enough to remind you it’s still there.
you’re quiet for a second. breathing in the moment. then— soft, teasing, and only half joking:
“so… what are we now?”
he goes still. just for a beat. long enough for your stomach to drop a little. you tense, suddenly hyperaware of how real this feels, how easy it would be to ruin it. your heart thumps like you’re asking him to raise a child. (which. maybe you are. unknowingly. oops.)
he exhales.
then, low. rough. certain.
“mine.”
you short-circuit. go quiet.
he doesn’t say it again. doesn’t need to. just grabs your thigh, still sore, and drags you back against his chest like he thinks you might try to leave— even though you physically can’t. you melt into the mattress with a broken little sigh, breath catching when his cock shifts against your ass, not quite hard, but heavy and possessive all the same.
you stay there. warm. stupidly happy. still full of his cum.
his fingers trail over your waist lazily, absent-minded, like he’s petting you. like you’re his. like this is normal now. you close your eyes, let yourself float in it, wondering how the hell you went from faking ankle injuries to getting bred in your own hallway by the hottest dilf alive.
and when megumi knocks on the door half an hour later and yells, “dad, i’m hungry,”
toji groans like a man betrayed. buries his face in your neck, kisses your skin as if it’s your fault he has responsibilities.
“you’re makin’ breakfast,” he mutters.
you turn your head, blinking at him. “me?!”
“you want me to limp in there with my back blown out?”
“…you blew my back out.”
“exactly,” he grins against your throat. “teamwork.”
you roll your eyes. groan. try to wiggle away, but he doesn’t let you. just holds you tighter and mumbles something about five more minutes before letting you go— barely.
you’re smiling as you get up. your legs are still jelly. your thighs stick when you move. you’re sore and used and leaking, and you’ve never felt so fucking good.
i rlly spent the whole night editing/finishing this osmgdkkdks, i’m lowk experimenting and thought i’d try smth different so i hope u guys like thissss >.<
❀ུ۪ ﾟ short update !! lots of things n wips on the way <3 i’m officially on spring break so hopefully i have the time and motivation to write. i also might move my acc ?? tumblr has flagged my acc and i cannot have it removed unfortunately :<
toji starts acting different when an audience is involved
18+ camgirl reader x fwb toji, filming, prone bone, headlock, possessiveness, dirty talk, creampie
toji doesn't bat an eye the day you ask him to join you on stream.
the deal you lay out for him is simple. a generous 30% of your tips just to come on cam and fuck you the way he always does. a couple of basic positions, maybe a toy if your viewers really want one. there were only so many ways to get off in front of an audience, why not add another person into the mix?
and toji agrees like he was born for it. call it the way his dick tends to speak for him after a quick fuck, or his soft spot for anything that involves touching you. either way, the man ponders your offer as casually as he would the weather, pulling your naked body closer with a very serious "what day do you need me?"
he shows up to you apartment a handful of days later with a purpose, freshly showered with his choppy fringe styled the way you love. he greets you at the door with a kiss far too deep to not send butterflies between your legs. he leads you to the bedroom with an unreadable look on his face, hand splayed across your lower back.
your viewers adore him, and that's putting it very mildly.
he's been teasing you for the better half of an hour, answering questions with his dick to the hilt and his hands cupping your ass. you’re all but weightless in the seat of his lap, arms thrown around his neck with your legs bracketing his. toji takes the time to savor you, watching the way you shake every time he lifts you up and down his throbbing length.
"huh, how'd we meet?" he mumbles, leaning forward to read a question at the top of the queue "uhh, college i think? fucked her at a halloween party and i guess she never got tired of me." he laughs, thrusting up into you to punctuate the shitty joke.
the set you'd worn for him hadn't stood a chance from the second you turned the camera on, shucked off and discarded on the floor by his heavy hands in the handful of minutes leading up to this very moment. toji wasn't just fucking you, he was drawing it out, teasing you up the wall just because he can.
he takes a moment to spread you open, hands pulling your cheeks apart to show off where your bodies meet. the viewers go wild at that, throwing money at the both of you like there’s no tomorrow.
you perk up at the telltale ding! letting you know a hefty donation had gone through, turning to try and get a better look at the monitor.
except, toji grabs your chin with practiced efficiency, pulling your face into his neck before you’re able to read what the accompanying request says.
“hm?” he hums, scanning the brightly lit screen. “yeah, i can do that.” he reasons, shifting onto his knees underneath you.
you whine into the crook of his neck as he finally lays you down on your back, feeling him lean to the side to pick up the camera.
“wait you’re not supposed to–.” you whine, all too aware of how deep he feels inside of you now. you watch him swipe the little device from its place on your desk, holding it up to your pussy with his lip caught between his teeth
"not supposed to what? hm?" he asks, fake sympathy lacing his tone. “fuck, look at that.” he grumbles. “this what you guys wanted?”
the chat detonates with a force you’ve never seen before. you’re already way past your donation goal for the night, with more money funneling in every minute.
he sets a steady pace for the both of you, fucking his wet cock in between your legs with seamless thrusts. you can feel every inch of him like this. the way his tip drags heavy inside of you, how his girth stretches your hole to it’s maximum. even the veins on the underside of his shaft lick at you sweetly.
he holds the camera right up to your shaky body. the frame shakes every time his hips meet your ass, and the mic is probably picking up his heavy breaths but neither of you care at this point. this isn’t about the content anymore, toji’s fucking you like he wants to eat you alive.
he presses his palm gently into the little pudge of your stomach, searching, wanting.
“mhm, there it is.” he drawls, massaging the shape of his length through your tummy. “you feel me in here?”
you nod shakily, not knowing whether to look into the camera or up at him.
“yeah? gonna keep me in here?”
he’s never like this when the camera is off. never as performative as he is now. you flutter around him involuntarily and the groan it earns you practically comes from his soul, his shoulders shaking with pleasure.
“oh, fuck.” he drawls, fastening a hand to the meat of your hip to ground himself. he leans forward then, lips attaching to your neck as he grinds the head of himself inside of you.
“pussy’s too fucking good.” he grumbles, “way too good.” you feel his head turn to the camera at that last part, almost like he’s trying to prove a point to the viewers at home. that’s when it clicks. toji didn’t just agree to come on here and fuck you, he came to lay a claim on you. to show the people who tune in every night that only he could fuck you like this.
“who’s this belong to?” he asks sternly. he slaps the tip of himself against your budding beat, filling the room with slick noise. “say it.”
you’re so far gone you barely register the question. all you can focus on is getting him back inside of you. too slaps himself against you again, harder this time. you jolt at the stimulation.
“fucked you stupid already?” he teases. five fingers close around your chin and guide your face to the side, right in line with the camera. “who’s this pussy belong to? hm?”
“yours.” you breathe.
“nobody else’s?” he finally sheaths himself inside of you, and you both groan. toji wastes no time and quickly works his way up to a steady pace. in and out like a piston in a well oiled machine.
“no, nobody.” you punctuate. the hand around your chin finally releases and moves down to the back of your thigh, hoisting your leg forward until your knee reaches your chest.
he’s so deep like this, deep enough it even hurts a little if you focus too much.
“gonna let me cum inside?”
you nod, squealing at a particularly deep thrust.
“yes, fuck, always.”
“whenever i want?”
“whenever you want.” you whine, head ascending to the clouds as the pad of his huge thumb makes down to rub over your clit. toji plays your body like a fiddle. like he's the only man on earth who'll ever make you feel this good. in a way, he pretty much is.
you can feel your heartbeat in between your legs now, hammering against your walls to the beat of each stroke of his. toji hisses, almost like he can feel your impending orgasm, and pulls out with a nasty squelch to set the camera back on your desk and flip you over as quickly as he can.
he has you on you stomach now, fully in sight of the cam with his forearm locked against your neck, holding your head up for the viewers at home. toji lays flat up against you, focusing the brunt of his weight into fucking you prone bone.
a quick peek at the monitor confirms your suspicion that you look ruined like this. lips pressed into a pout from the force of his bicep curled around your face, sweaty hands fisted into the sheets below you for purchase, the whole nine yards. toji must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he looks at you. proud, almost. like you’re something he created with his bare hands.
“gonna show them how you cum for me?” he asks you, low enough for only you to hear.
you nod the best you can, unable to hide the sweet noises he draws out of you with every press of his hips. you’ve cum on only his dick before, but this feels different. stronger, almost. more intimate. the world beyond your bed seems to be the furthest thing from your mind right now. toji is the only thing you can focus on.
the chat is up to a rolling boil at this point. you’ve wracked up enough money to pay your rent and then some, not to mention the jaw dropping orgasm you feel building in your stomach. toji seems more focused on cumming than making the viewers happy at this point, pistoning into you like he was born for it.
he angles his hips just a tad bit lower, and just like that, you’re clamping down on him hard. creaming on his heavy length with a noise so desperate you’re 90% sure it’s what pushed him over the edge as well.
his load seems to go on for ages, filling you up in steady, hot pumps until it spills out from around the length of him. the arm curled around your face slowly retracts, leaving you face-down in the sheets with your legs shaking and your chest heaving.
toji snakes his fingers under your chin to turn your gaze toward him, letting the pad of his thumb stroke your cheek softly. his presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, cradling your face in his palm for a few moments until he’s sure you’ve come down from the cloud you’re on.
he pulls out of you slowly, hand on your lower back to keep you from squirming too hard. you watch him pad over your desk, cock swinging between his legs as he bends down to face the camera with a sleazy grin before waving goodbye to everyone and pressing "end stream".
suguru loves the taste of cigarettes, but he might love the taste of your lips on his a little more.
sfw : fluff, but kinda suggestive. satoru's little sister, smoking, shotgunning, suguru talks you through it kinda, very sensual, not really proof read. slight age gap. older brother's best friend trope. kinda punk suguru if you squint. ❀ུ۪ ﾟ
the three of you sit outside on the balcony, heavy blanket thrown across the wooden slats. there’s a shoddily made charcuterie board in the middle, mostly chips and beef jerky— whatever your brother, satoru, could find at the gas station on the way home from work. oh, and a shitty bottle of liquor. the kind that makes your nose burn on the way down and gets you black out drunk in four swigs minimum.
you’re sitting across from them, floaty and warm beneath the first true spring night, listening to suguru pluck at the strings of his guitar.
you can’t take your eyes off of him, his piercings, his silky black hair that rivals those shitty adverts on tv. he’s so… pretty. so outrageously pretty.
he can surely feel your stare on him. deep amethyst flick up from his hands, the fingers that slowly strums a melody to fill the void, and settles on you. heavy, daring. for a moment, you swear you see a sultry smirk pull onto his lips. it sends heat straight up your spine, and you tear your eyes away as if you’ve been burned.
luckily, satoru doesn’t realize, rather, he’s digging through his tote bag and groaning with a heavy sigh.
“damn, i forgot to buy those sour ropes,” he shakes out the rest of the random snacks and a pack of marlboro golds, those were definitely suguru’s. “c’mon, suguru, let’s walk down to the conbini,”
“what? why do i have to go? you’re the only who likes those things,” he’s barking back, head whipping towards the white haired man.
“c’monnnn, i don’t wanna walk down there alone, it’s creepy!”
“what if your mom wakes up? how is she gonna cover when both of us are gone? we swore that we wouldn’t go any where else tonight,”
the two bicker back and forth as you reach for the unopened pack of cigarettes, inspecting them with the curiosity of a mischievous cat. you’ve never smoked before, and this is one of the first times satoru even let you joined the two of them to drink. something about how he doesn’t want his little sister to fry her brain before she even finishes up her freshman year in college.
“just go by yourself, it’s barely a 10 minute walk. i’ll stay and make sure this one doesn’t get any drunker,”
this catches your attention, an offended noise thrown at suguru as you huck a cracker at him.
satoru groans one more before standing up from his original spot, tugging his coat closer to him. a soft nudge at suguru’s thigh with a knowing look.
“don’t let her smoke. if my mom wakes up, just say i’m in the bathroom or something,” there’s something else in the lilt of his voice, something that sounds like he’s telling the both of you to behave for his 20 minute trip down to the corner store for some damn candy.
suguru and you wave him off with a promise of no funny business and wait until the sounds of his footsteps disappear behind the balcony door. the first time you two have been alone together in a very long time.
his stare returns and the feeling prickles the hair behind your neck to stand. molten amethyst that bleeds into something that feels like fervor, a quiet want. you don’t realize that he’s placed your socked feet into his lap, replacing his guitar as he strokes meaningless shapes across the smooth skin of your calf.
you take another small swig, just for confidence.
“you heard the man, i can’t let you smoke.” it’s the first thing he says to you, teasing as he reaches over to grab the pack still in your hands. it’s fresh, new, with the plastic still on it that he tears away with his teeth.
even if you wanted to, you can’t peel your gaze from him. if anything, you’re scooting closer across the blanket, forgoing all the red flags.
suguru, your brother’s best friend. the boy who used to push you all too high on the swings until you’re crying out of fear. the boy who would slide you his free lunch cookie as he’s leaving with a wink, catching the attention of all the girls in your grade. the same boy who grew out of that lanky figure into something more… broader. fuller. he kept his hair long and got his lip pierced. (that had him sleeping on your parents’ couch for a few days.) he never stopped teasing you, either.
and tonight was no exception.
your gaze betrays you, needy and curious as he cracks open the old pack, the scent of tabacco addictive and pleasing. he brings you even closer and holds the fresh sticks under your nose. they’re not as strong as you thought they’d be.
“they smell nice,” you murmur, lithe hands curling around his wrist to keep him from pulling away.
“they smell better like this, you’ll find it too bitter once they start burning,”
your eyes flick from the pack to him, glossy lips parted in a way that makes him want to groan. they would look so pretty wrapped around a cigarette— god, he’s a terrible influence.
“can i try a little bit? just some of yours,” you ask like it’s a piece of cake, not some addictive cancer stick.
he’s already digging around in his leather jacket pocket for his lighter, a shiny little white lighter that has a little heart you drew on it many months before. satoru had asked who drew on it their last smoke sesh and suguru didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was you. when you were crashing at his dorm after an argument with your parents and you drew a sweet little heart on the white plastic. lied with a smirk on his lips.
“only a little, sweet girl. he’ll kill me if you get addicted,” thin, callused fingers pluck a stick from the box and he holds it in between his lips.
you watch carefully, more attention than needed in all honesty, but you’re half way in his lap and you want to kiss at his jaw so badly that he can hear your heartbeat in your throat.
“when you first light a cigarette, you don’t just hold the flame up to the tip.” a flicker of sparks and a small flame ignites, the soft light warm between the two of you. “you breathe in, or you risk the cig dying,”
suguru’s empty hand squeezes at the soft flesh of your thigh and demostrates exactly what he was talking about. flame up to the tip of the cigarette, he breathes in deep and heavy until the tabacco begins to glow a soft orange.
the bitter scent and the smell of smoke fills the open air and you find your own breath caught. this is the scent that always clings to him, quiet on his clothes in a way that makes you savor ever gulp of air. though, this is barely the end of your lesson.
“open up.” your lips part with little coaxing and you feel the skin of his thumb brush at your cheek. a silent praise. you’re so pretty when you listen to him.
suguru blows the plume of smoke onto your awaiting tongue, letting you taste the flavor of your bittersweet demise.
you sputter, cough a little, before breaking out into some love sick sort of smile. maybe it’s the lingering alcohol in your system, or the fact you only have a few shitty crackers in your stomach, but your mind feels like it’s in a state of euphoria. every light touch he leaves on your skin, the plush of your cheek and down the length of your spine. god, you’re dizzy.
“too much, baby?” he purrs against the top of your head, chuckling at how quickly you sputter out a no. “if it’s not too much then, how about a proper drag?”
he’s holding out the cigarette against the spring wind, embers glowing bright underneath the dim light of the stars, and holds your chin as gentle as a man like him can. your lean forward first, unsure, maybe even a little nervous, tongue still burning from the smoke before, and part your lips once again.
“slowly, that’s it, sweet girl,” you breathe in under his quiet instruction, careful until your feel a small warmth linger at the back of your throat. you pull away, inhaling, only to cough out a cloud of grey. the two of you bleed into a flurry of chuckles and your eyes prickle with tears. you manage to keep your coughing to a minimum after a bit, using the sleeve of your sweater to pat away the little crystalline tears that line your waterline. ”marlboro’s are strong, ‘guru— oh,”
the two of your notice the lack of glow from the cigarette, dead from the cold wind and the lack of attention after your little fit. suguru huffs out another laugh. ”dead cigarette, you’re gonna have to revive it.”
“revive it? don’t i just re-light it?”
silvery black locks fall over amethyst eyes as he shakes his head, holding up the cigarette to your lips again. you’re still staring up at him, the lack of distance between you two more noticeable now.
“you’ll burn more, waste it. put your lips back onto it, sweetheart— yeah that’s it. now blow, instead of inhale.”
the stick struggles, the wrapper fizzling as the embers try to relight themselves with your effort. you try one more time and suguru hums with approval. it’s his turn to try as well, and after a few more tries, the cigarette glows bright once more. the two of you take turns breathing in smoke, letting it settle deep into your lungs and then dissipate beneath the fairy lights that hang from the railings of your balcony.
you like this, you love this actually. the silence that doesn’t necessarily have to be filled between you two. perched between his thighs and his thumb rubbing slow, insistent circles on your hip. something low and sensual floats between whatever space is left, and you cherish the last fleeting moments of the burning cigarette. the ash burns away until there’s just enough left for one long drag. the filter is yellow at this point, stained with your lip gloss, and suguru has half the heart to keep the butt.
just as a reminder. just as a memory of you tonight, sitting as pretty as a princess.
“baby?” he takes the last, long, long puff, inhaling the carcinogens like it was the freshest air on earth.
you look at him, properly this time, still hazy as the alcohol fizzles beneath your skin.
and his lips are on yours. perhaps he found a new addiction along side nicotine, and in his opinion? you’re gonna be a much bigger problem than a pack of cigarettes.
baker's note: i need to smoke with punk suguru who talks me though it. i actually don't really like marlboros, im used to pretty light cigs back in vietnam. i'm currently rationing a pack of these orange flavored chinese marlboros though. <3
hockey captain! toji hated sharing the rink before he met you.
toji's been practicing drills for the better half of an hour, weaving smooth paths up and down the rink like a jet down a tarmac. his lungs ache with the sting of the frigid air, and his jersey does little to keep him warm, but the pain only makes him skate faster.
it’s too early for anyone to be on the ice just yet, and that’s exactly why he loves coming here at this time. the sun’s only just began its ascent, bleeding a mirage of pinks and oranges through the windows of the rink and into the stands.
so why the fuck are you here?
half the campus probably isn't even awake right now, and yet, here you are fumbling around on the opposite side of the rink with your arms outstretched and your knees braced just in case you fall.
you're cute. inexperienced, but cute as a button and the realization has huffing into the cold air. loud, and heavy, and completely unjustified at the realization that he can't do anything but try not to look at you embarrass yourself on the ice.
he skates over to the closest bench, settling down against the frigid metal to re-lace his skates and pretend like he isn't watching you from the corner of his eye.
your technique is sloppy, and that's him putting it nicely. you're completely off balance as you try to push yourself forward, clutching onto the side rails of the rink with one hand to maintain your dignity.
he sees thousands of people in these stands a week. countless tiny blobs stacked into perfect rows that meld into streaks as he skates by, too focused on the puck and the pounding in his temples to pay mind to anything else. and yet, you're the one thing that has his attention right now.
he watches you trip over nothing a few times before finally deciding he's had enough, lacing his skates a final time before gliding over to your side of the rink.
you freeze as soon as he steps back onto the ice, leaning back against the guardrail to stabilize your shaky body.
"you ever skate before?" he asks cautiously, brow cocked. the look on your face is all the answer he needs.
"not really." you admit, looking painfully small under his gaze. you're not nearly as well dressed for the cold as he is, ears tinged red by the frigid air blanketing the two of you.
he nods, hands on his hips as he takes in the sight of you.
"little early to be on the ice, no?" he offers, trying to dissolve the tension between the two of you.
you giggle, and the sound alone has his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit.
"could say the same thing to you."
toji laughs at the jest and offers a gloved hand to you, eyes not quite meeting yours until he feels your palm against his.
your grip is cautious, eyes a little wider than they were a second ago like you're waiting for him to make the next move. like you're trying to figure out whether he's about to kick you out or not.
"easier than it looks." he reassures, sounding oddly sweet even to himself. you yelp as he pushes off from his spot in front of you, skating backwards with your hand wrapped in his until your tracing a hesitant path in front of him.
"c'mon. someone's gotta teach you." the way he says it to you sounds absolutely final. like he'd already made his mind up the moment he came up to you.
you feel the traction of the ice under your skates as you're pulled forward over the ice. long, steady pulls that carve lines into the cold surface beneath you. there's something comforting about the way he leads the two of you. one hand holding your own while the other hover at your side in case you fall.
you mirror his mannerisms with a soft laugh, pushing your heavy feet forward until the two of you reach a comfortable speed.
“hold onto me—yep, there we go. good.” he instructs, fingers tightening around yours as your balance threatens to crumble. something in the back of your brain squeals knowing this is the furthest you've ever skated without falling.
you could have guessed he was a pro simply from the way he carries himself. he bobs and weaves across the ice without ever having to look behind him, pulling you along like it's second nature.
"do you play for the school?" you question, nodding at the hockey jersey draped over his muscled form.
"captain." he offers casually, smiling at the awestruck expression that earns him.
you stare down at your skates to try and get a feel for what you’re doing, copying the way his own feet move against the ice, but the feeling of his glove under your chin stops you.
“don’t look at the ice, look at me.” he commands, tilting your face up so your eyes meet his. warmth blooms under your cheeks at the gesture.
the two of you trace a narrower path now, arcing around the edge of the rink as you complete your first lap.
"what's your name?" you mumble, still reeling from the way his hand felt against your face.
"toji, you?" he hums, lips twisting into a confident grin. you nearly stumble forward when you give him your own, and the hand hovering at your side finally makes contact as he works to steady the two of you.
you recover fast despite the way your heart hammers against your ribcage. toji's mouth quirks up at the side in a boyish show of satisfaction.
“good, that’s good.” he praises. “don’t stop looking at me, okay?”
you nod, opting to stay silent because the hand at your side still hasn't left it's place. you can feel the warmth of his palm even through all the layers between you two, and the thought alone drives you so insane that you're not even sure what lap you're on at this point.
"want you to try it on your own." toji suggests, pulling you from the flurry of heated thoughts bouncing around in your brain.
"I don't know if i can." you whine, wanting to feel his hands on you just a little longer. you silently curse the jersey-clad man in front of you as the both of you slow to a gradual stop against the guard rail from earlier.
"c'mon, just try." he gestures. there's a playful glint in his eye now, something that almost feels proud now that he's taught you the basics.
you take a moment to gather yourself, suddenly all too aware of how intently he's watching you. you raise one of your feet hesitantly, pushing off the rail with shaky legs and your arms outstretched in front of you.
"there we go, see?" toji calls after you, watching you trace a small but mighty circle a couple feet in front of him.
you take his outstretched hand on your return, heart beating wildly at the feeling of his fingers squeezing yours. the hand you missed so dearly finally returns to your side with a purpose, and the way toji looks down at you almost feels like a reward.
"see, didn't even need me." his voice is a lot lower now. more earnest, like wants you to know exactly how well you did. he starts to pull you in an arc around the ring anyway, mapping the same path you'd been looping together just a bit ago.
"you should come to my match tomorrow." he offers quietly, lacing his fingers between yours as the final, devastating blow to your heart.
you fight a smile, keeping a steady grip on both of his hands.
hello !! my name is dove ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱and i am the writer behind sleepiedoves !! i'm 22, vietnamese american and a real life baker <3. she/they pronouns preferred and fair warning, i use petnames all the time for everyone, so please let me know if you're uncomfy !! everyone is automatically my wife idk.
i've been in the writing scene for as long as i remember, mostly starting in the black butler fandom wayyyy back then, followed by kpop and other various medias !! i love roleplaying, baking, embroidery, cats, jfashion, overwatch (ew, i know) and a billion other things !! i'm also a huge music lover and listen to practically anything. always drop music recs, doesn't matter what genre, i love learning about people's music tastes.
i currently mostly write for jjk, lads and i have a few ocs i want to make proper character sheets for. i am an INCLUSIVE writer, i'll pop out yaoi and yuri without warning. #pansexual. i do have my favorite characters, but inspiration comes to me in bursts and i write whoever i feel like writing <3. though i am deeply inconsistent, i am a student in hospitality, looking into pastry school and work as a cake decorator and a barista.
i should mention, my favs are toji, gojo, xavier, geto in no particular order. ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა.
other pieces of media i'm obsessed with: apothecary diaries, toilet bound hanako kun, vocaloid, newjeans, chobits, noragami, the pitt, black butler, creepypastas, unfiction/args, chiikawa, studio ghibli, ouran highschool host club, green yuri manga, sanrio.
suguru loves the taste of cigarettes, but he might love the taste of your lips on his a little more.
sfw : fluff, but kinda suggestive. satoru's little sister, smoking, shotgunning, suguru talks you through it kinda, very sensual, not really proof read. slight age gap. older brother's best friend trope. kinda punk suguru if you squint. ❀ུ۪ ﾟ
the three of you sit outside on the balcony, heavy blanket thrown across the wooden slats. there’s a shoddily made charcuterie board in the middle, mostly chips and beef jerky— whatever your brother, satoru, could find at the gas station on the way home from work. oh, and a shitty bottle of liquor. the kind that makes your nose burn on the way down and gets you black out drunk in four swigs minimum.
you’re sitting across from them, floaty and warm beneath the first true spring night, listening to suguru pluck at the strings of his guitar.
you can’t take your eyes off of him, his piercings, his silky black hair that rivals those shitty adverts on tv. he’s so… pretty. so outrageously pretty.
he can surely feel your stare on him. deep amethyst flick up from his hands, the fingers that slowly strums a melody to fill the void, and settles on you. heavy, daring. for a moment, you swear you see a sultry smirk pull onto his lips. it sends heat straight up your spine, and you tear your eyes away as if you’ve been burned.
luckily, satoru doesn’t realize, rather, he’s digging through his tote bag and groaning with a heavy sigh.
“damn, i forgot to buy those sour ropes,” he shakes out the rest of the random snacks and a pack of marlboro golds, those were definitely suguru’s. “c’mon, suguru, let’s walk down to the conbini,”
“what? why do i have to go? you’re the only who likes those things,” he’s barking back, head whipping towards the white haired man.
“c’monnnn, i don’t wanna walk down there alone, it’s creepy!”
“what if your mom wakes up? how is she gonna cover when both of us are gone? we swore that we wouldn’t go any where else tonight,”
the two bicker back and forth as you reach for the unopened pack of cigarettes, inspecting them with the curiosity of a mischievous cat. you’ve never smoked before, and this is one of the first times satoru even let you joined the two of them to drink. something about how he doesn’t want his little sister to fry her brain before she even finishes up her freshman year in college.
“just go by yourself, it’s barely a 10 minute walk. i’ll stay and make sure this one doesn’t get any drunker,”
this catches your attention, an offended noise thrown at suguru as you huck a cracker at him.
satoru groans one more before standing up from his original spot, tugging his coat closer to him. a soft nudge at suguru’s thigh with a knowing look.
“don’t let her smoke. if my mom wakes up, just say i’m in the bathroom or something,” there’s something else in the lilt of his voice, something that sounds like he’s telling the both of you to behave for his 20 minute trip down to the corner store for some damn candy.
suguru and you wave him off with a promise of no funny business and wait until the sounds of his footsteps disappear behind the balcony door. the first time you two have been alone together in a very long time.
his stare returns and the feeling prickles the hair behind your neck to stand. molten amethyst that bleeds into something that feels like fervor, a quiet want. you don’t realize that he’s placed your socked feet into his lap, replacing his guitar as he strokes meaningless shapes across the smooth skin of your calf.
you take another small swig, just for confidence.
“you heard the man, i can’t let you smoke.” it’s the first thing he says to you, teasing as he reaches over to grab the pack still in your hands. it’s fresh, new, with the plastic still on it that he tears away with his teeth.
even if you wanted to, you can’t peel your gaze from him. if anything, you’re scooting closer across the blanket, forgoing all the red flags.
suguru, your brother’s best friend. the boy who used to push you all too high on the swings until you’re crying out of fear. the boy who would slide you his free lunch cookie as he’s leaving with a wink, catching the attention of all the girls in your grade. the same boy who grew out of that lanky figure into something more… broader. fuller. he kept his hair long and got his lip pierced. (that had him sleeping on your parents’ couch for a few days.) he never stopped teasing you, either.
and tonight was no exception.
your gaze betrays you, needy and curious as he cracks open the old pack, the scent of tabacco addictive and pleasing. he brings you even closer and holds the fresh sticks under your nose. they’re not as strong as you thought they’d be.
“they smell nice,” you murmur, lithe hands curling around his wrist to keep him from pulling away.
“they smell better like this, you’ll find it too bitter once they start burning,”
your eyes flick from the pack to him, glossy lips parted in a way that makes him want to groan. they would look so pretty wrapped around a cigarette— god, he’s a terrible influence.
“can i try a little bit? just some of yours,” you ask like it’s a piece of cake, not some addictive cancer stick.
he’s already digging around in his leather jacket pocket for his lighter, a shiny little white lighter that has a little heart you drew on it many months before. satoru had asked who drew on it their last smoke sesh and suguru didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was you. when you were crashing at his dorm after an argument with your parents and you drew a sweet little heart on the white plastic. lied with a smirk on his lips.
“only a little, sweet girl. he’ll kill me if you get addicted,” thin, callused fingers pluck a stick from the box and he holds it in between his lips.
you watch carefully, more attention than needed in all honesty, but you’re half way in his lap and you want to kiss at his jaw so badly that he can hear your heartbeat in your throat.
“when you first light a cigarette, you don’t just hold the flame up to the tip.” a flicker of sparks and a small flame ignites, the soft light warm between the two of you. “you breathe in, or you risk the cig dying,”
suguru’s empty hand squeezes at the soft flesh of your thigh and demostrates exactly what he was talking about. flame up to the tip of the cigarette, he breathes in deep and heavy until the tabacco begins to glow a soft orange.
the bitter scent and the smell of smoke fills the open air and you find your own breath caught. this is the scent that always clings to him, quiet on his clothes in a way that makes you savor ever gulp of air. though, this is barely the end of your lesson.
“open up.” your lips part with little coaxing and you feel the skin of his thumb brush at your cheek. a silent praise. you’re so pretty when you listen to him.
suguru blows the plume of smoke onto your awaiting tongue, letting you taste the flavor of your bittersweet demise.
you sputter, cough a little, before breaking out into some love sick sort of smile. maybe it’s the lingering alcohol in your system, or the fact you only have a few shitty crackers in your stomach, but your mind feels like it’s in a state of euphoria. every light touch he leaves on your skin, the plush of your cheek and down the length of your spine. god, you’re dizzy.
“too much, baby?” he purrs against the top of your head, chuckling at how quickly you sputter out a no. “if it’s not too much then, how about a proper drag?”
he’s holding out the cigarette against the spring wind, embers glowing bright underneath the dim light of the stars, and holds your chin as gentle as a man like him can. your lean forward first, unsure, maybe even a little nervous, tongue still burning from the smoke before, and part your lips once again.
“slowly, that’s it, sweet girl,” you breathe in under his quiet instruction, careful until your feel a small warmth linger at the back of your throat. you pull away, inhaling, only to cough out a cloud of grey. the two of you bleed into a flurry of chuckles and your eyes prickle with tears. you manage to keep your coughing to a minimum after a bit, using the sleeve of your sweater to pat away the little crystalline tears that line your waterline. ”marlboro’s are strong, ‘guru— oh,”
the two of your notice the lack of glow from the cigarette, dead from the cold wind and the lack of attention after your little fit. suguru huffs out another laugh. ”dead cigarette, you’re gonna have to revive it.”
“revive it? don’t i just re-light it?”
silvery black locks fall over amethyst eyes as he shakes his head, holding up the cigarette to your lips again. you’re still staring up at him, the lack of distance between you two more noticeable now.
“you’ll burn more, waste it. put your lips back onto it, sweetheart— yeah that’s it. now blow, instead of inhale.”
the stick struggles, the wrapper fizzling as the embers try to relight themselves with your effort. you try one more time and suguru hums with approval. it’s his turn to try as well, and after a few more tries, the cigarette glows bright once more. the two of you take turns breathing in smoke, letting it settle deep into your lungs and then dissipate beneath the fairy lights that hang from the railings of your balcony.
you like this, you love this actually. the silence that doesn’t necessarily have to be filled between you two. perched between his thighs and his thumb rubbing slow, insistent circles on your hip. something low and sensual floats between whatever space is left, and you cherish the last fleeting moments of the burning cigarette. the ash burns away until there’s just enough left for one long drag. the filter is yellow at this point, stained with your lip gloss, and suguru has half the heart to keep the butt.
just as a reminder. just as a memory of you tonight, sitting as pretty as a princess.
“baby?” he takes the last, long, long puff, inhaling the carcinogens like it was the freshest air on earth.
you look at him, properly this time, still hazy as the alcohol fizzles beneath your skin.
and his lips are on yours. perhaps he found a new addiction along side nicotine, and in his opinion? you’re gonna be a much bigger problem than a pack of cigarettes.
baker's note: i need to smoke with punk suguru who talks me though it. i actually don't really like marlboros, im used to pretty light cigs back in vietnam. i'm currently rationing a pack of these orange flavored chinese marlboros though. <3
hi everyone, you can call me usagi !! i'm 19 year old girl and ive loved writing for as long as i can remember. please use she/her pronouns for me! i'm greyromantic greysexual (meaning im on the aroace spec, but not purely aroace! i can experience attraction, but super rarely and ive actually never experienced it with someone yet, but i really want to!). i'm also biromantic heterosexual ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)
i used to deaf (due to a physical condition, not neurological, so i recovered) and unfortunately will be again in the future. my first language was ASL. my hearing is currently normal, but unfortunately i will lose it again in the future. im autistic, and due to my hearing loss i wasn't diagnosed until a couple years ago! even with the hearing problems i love to sing (and apparently im good at it), and i have been professionally trained (>ᴗ•) ! one of my dreams when i was little was to become a kpop idol
i've been in a jujutsu kaisen fan since early 2023, and toji & my anniversary is august 23rd (you have to send a gift or youll be banished). im a big fanatic about mma/boxer toji, bluecollar toji, dads best friend / best friends dad toji ( ˶˘ヮ˘) i also really like sukuna !! big fan of true form sukuna (,; ⩌ ;,)
im kinnddd of into resident evil and i have re4r but i played it once and i got so scared i havent picked it up since. i love how leon looks in re9 and i think its my favorite iteration of him! i know basically all the lore and whatever, and i've watched playthroughs of re2r, re4r, re7, re8, and re9. ive watched death island & damnation for leon but honestly the main story (besides in 4, 7, & 8) doesnt really speak to me
i've been a fan of love and deepspace since last june & i main sylus! i also really love caleb but sylus is definitely my main boy.
i'm in college & i'm working to study (hopefully) international corporate law. i'm working really hard, wish me luck! that also means that during exam season / rough spots i probably won't log onto here.
some more media i like : zelda, animal crossing, pokémon, a sign of affection, kimi ni todoke, chiikawa, studio ghibli, sylvanian families, moomin, dungeon meshi, the summer hikaru died, ouran high school host club, & nana !
how does toji comfort you when you're stressed?
bluecollar toji x student reader - fluff, comfort, cuddling, fem reader
word count: 702
this may or may not be based off of me currently being stressed out of my mind over social stuff and midterms . why does hanging out with people make me want to explode 20 times and jump out a moving truck bluecollar toji save me
MDNI
you swore to toji that you weren't crying - even when heavy circles line your under-eyes, your lashes are wet and all stuck together, and redness is starting to prick at your scleras. he got back from work a bit early, so you thought you were safe to curl up into a ball on your bedroom under a blanket to cry your eyes out.
you can't pinpoint what exactly you're so stressed about. you wish you could say 'school' and just be done with it, but it's not that simple. it's a mix of everything: your social life, family, school, mental state - even just a sock on the floor or accidentally knocking something over is sending you down a spiral.
he finds you on the floor of your shared bedroom, holding one of your favorite stuffed animals, headphones on, and under a comforter. he stands in the doorway for a minute, realizing you didn't hear him come in, watching you cry. he thinks you'd at least look up, but you don't.
he walks towards you, your eyes widening when his feet come into view. you straighten up, wiping your eyes of any tears. he squats in front of you, plucking your headphones off your head and setting them in your lap. he huffs, head cocking while he looks over your tear-stained cheeks.
"why're you crying?" he hums, his hand lifting back up to run over your face, wiping away tears. his fingers are rough.
"m' not," you just shrug, eyes avoiding his.
"you're not a good liar, baby," he mumbles, hand lifting to pet your head. he's still in his work clothes, the muddied cargo pants he insists on wearing nearly every day (unless you throw them in the wash before he gets his hands on them). he has on a black tank top, holes starting to form at the bottom seam. it shows off his biceps, and you can't help but take a peek.
he huffs.
"what's wrong?"
no response.
"com'on, sweetheart, tell me," his hand moves to your lips, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. you only sniffle, sucking at the inside of your cheek. "you don't want me to make you, doll."
he gives a few pats to your cheek - almost a slap, but not quite. just enough to sting your skin, not enough to hurt. he sighs, knowing you're too stubborn for a few words to make you talk.
"i'll be right back, m'kay?" he says quietly, pulling away his hand. "gonna go get out of these clothes."
you nod, sitting in silence as you hear him wash his face and pull off his work clothes. he throws on a new pair of boxers and sweatpants (decidedly not wearing a shirt), emerging from the bathroom a moment later.
"cm'ere," he sits next to you, pulling you (and your stuffed animal and blanket) into his lap. his arms wrap around your back, stuffing your face into his neck. he feels you start to shake against him, small sobs prying from your chest.
"oh, baby," he sighs, hand slotting under your chin so you're forced to look at him. "don't wanna talk about it, huh?"
you shake your head.
"that's alright," he presses a kiss to your forehead, resting his nose against your hairline and taking a deep breath. your face rests right back on his chest. "you just try to calm down, yeah? want me to stay quiet?"
you shake your head again. he lets out a small laugh.
"want me to tell you 'bout my day?"
you nod.
he hums. "workin' on a new house right now. layout's kind of stupid. entry way is all tiny and tight - if you're gonna build a whole new place why not make it good, right? swear, i always get put on the stupidest jobs. less borin' than a mall or apartment, i guess."
"some guy dropped a slab on his foot, so we had one less person to help us out. the deadline's comin' up, i'm gonna get pissed if we have to work extra hard 'cause of that."
very soon, you fall asleep in his arms, put to sleep by his hand running up and down your back and his stories.
Synopsis. Toji Fushiguro - strong, hot, and your steadfast personal knight. And his duty to the crown means that Toji should…help the princess he’s always loved with obtaining an heir, right? Right?
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!princess!reader, knight!Toji, ROYAL AU, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, arranged marriage, Naoya gets NTR-d, PlNING, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, improper uses of armor, thigh ríding, dry húmping, matíng presses, BRÉEDING, dúmbifícation, marathons, D slipping, he’s BIG, size kínk, tummy buIges, cúmflation, slight exhíbitionísm, forbidden Iove, not actually unrequited, Undressed by Sombr references, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 11.1k (wow)
A/N. TO HAVE THE EYES OF THE GIRL I WON’T FORGEEET-
“Q-quite a grand affair- wasn’t it, sir?”
Toji lets out a gruff, noncommittal grunt in response, seconds away from rolling his damn eyes as he listens to the newly-stationed recruit babble on and on about ‘seeing a royal wedding up close.’
Toji Fushiguro has always known that he didn’t deserve you - no one did.
No prince, nor duke, but particularly not that prissy, pompous Zenin heir you’d supposedly been betrothed to since birth. What was his name-
“Naoya!”
Ah, yes. Toji’s scarred lips curl when he watches the prince slam the staggering mahogany doors of your royal room open, stomping down the winding hallway in all his sour-faced glory. Not quite Prince Charming if you asked him.
“Ijichi-” He sends a sharp nod to the bespectacled knight, signalling him to follow the heir. As much as he hated the brat, it wouldn’t do to widow you so soon- especially not on your wedding night.
And with that, Toji goes where it’s most important - to you.
As the metallic padding of his armor clanked! with each determined step, so did the ringing thought that if anything - absolutely anything - had happened to you, he would kill that damn Zenin boy. Prince or not.
Treason or not.
He didn’t climb and elbow and fight his way through the ranks of knights to become your very own personal guard for nothing. From the very moment he’d met you, his duty was to you.
As was his heart.
Though, that last sentiment didn’t matter much - not when he was nothing but your lowly protector.
Completely out of place in the decadent, dimly-lit chamber of your bedroom; it was sprawling, and the entire Keep where knights slept would take up about only half the size of your chamber. It was obvious that this place was readied for the newly-wed couple - a faint mist of flowery fragrance clouding the air, white sheets so sheer that they looked like phantoms fluttering in the moonlight, and you.
You, seated on the center of your plush mattress, still dolled-up in your gauzy ivory wedding dress. Looking as angelic as ever- though, when have you not?
To Toji, it was routine to snap his jade eyes away from whom he never could have.
Throat slightly rusty with hoarseness as he whispers, “My princess?” Before shaking his head free of any more of those stupid notions of ‘his.’ “You alright, princess? Must I slay a haughty royal neck tonight?”
That, at the very least, seemed to get a watery chuckle out of you as he’d wickedly hoped. Then you’re finally turning-
And oh, Toji thinks he might do very well to fulfill his promise of bringing you the head of your so-called new husband.
Because right there - in the corner of your gorgeous face that he’d grown up admiring through every year, every emotion - was a singular, silvery tear track. Glittering in the rays of moon, Toji can’t stop himself from the way his body viscerally wrenches a step forward-
-before you hastily wipe away the evidence of your sorrow before he can. Fighting to keep your sweet voice even, “Oh, don’t bother, Toji. Naoya just seems to be having a…bad day?”
He narrows his eyes- you were unhurt, at the bare minimum. Though, that won’t stop him from bribing the kitchen staff into overloading that damn Naoya’s meals with a bucket of salt from now onwards.
“Tch, the worst date to have a ‘bad day’. Don’tcha think, princess?”
“You’re telling me.” Throwing your hands up in exasperation, the silky sleeves of your wedding dress ripple as you huff. And Toji takes a few guilty moments to memorize the vision, one he never thought he would see.
It’s only with how long you two had known each other that you’re not bothering with any plastic court manners as you pull your knees to your chest. Groaning in quite an unlady-like way, “And all because I simply asked him to help me take these damn laces off-”
“The bastard ran out because of that?” Toji suddenly interrupts, jaw slightly sagging as he dares to take a peek at the mass of ribbons and strings knitting the back of your stuffy dress together.
Honestly- years in the royal palace and he still didn’t understand what it was with you people and these damn layers.
Your embarrassed silence was enough of an answer, and Toji’s bowing. “If I may-” Letting his gloves drop to the polished marble floor with a clunk! “No, I will if he won’t. Turn around.”
Slightly yelping, you’re letting yourself be tugged closer to the edge of the bed once Toji walks his way ‘round. Gruff, grouchy, and yet he was still making gentle work with your frilly back - unplucking you free, one by one.
“He said this was a woman’s work.” You sigh over the whoosh–! of creamy white ribbons being loosened from your outer corset. Lips twitching, “And I asked him if he’d rather I spent my wedding night with a woman, then.”
“Ya think? Anyone would be better than that pig-headed, brutish, fucking-”
“Language, Sir Toji.”
“Tch.”
As the last of your stringy restraints are untied, you have to bite back a moan at the roughened padding of Toji’s fingertips. Dexterous digits digging into where your muscles were tender from being cooped up like this all day, “You’re…surprisingly talented at this- practiced much, Toji?”
“Been watching you get dressed since I came to this palace, princess, don’t underestimate me.” He’s growling, and if the very tips of his ears burned at the thought of being the one undressing you - on your wedding night, of all things - then, well, he’s only glad the flickering chamber candles were too dim for you to tell.
“O-oh shut up.” You’re scoffing at the way Toji leers. Eyes darting anywhere but his and falling on- ah, your bed.
Your very un-mussed, very un-desecrated bed.
“Oh.”
Toji perks alert instantly, “Did I hurt-”
“No no–” Waving him off, “It’s just…the bed.” And as his face tilts in confusion, you feel a slight twinge of envy at the way he wasn’t aware of this particular royal custom.
Sighing, you pinch the plain sheets between your fingers. “The sheets- tomorrow morning, the courts will check and see that the marriage hasn’t been consummated. Of course, they’ll blame me for not trying hard enough to secure an heir. And I don’t trust my lovely husband to be over with his tantrum by then, so…”
Oh.
Oh.
The realization strikes - as do those words slip-
“I can help with that.”
Toji thinks he’s about to pass out- no, he thinks he’s already dead.
Because, surely, he was in heaven right now?
Or as close to heaven as he possibly could be - because with only a nod of yours, within only a few minutes he’s between your legs, kneeled at the very foot of your bed. The circles of his nostrils flaring in sweet, sweet anticipation the nearer he’s dragging his straight nosebridge in a meandering line towards your hot core.
Sniffing a deeeep few lungfuls of your body, your cunt’s saccharine aroma. Baritone so primally guttural n’ wet, “And yer sure? This isn’t just you talking out of- her?”
You’re whimpering once the honed, gleaming edges of his canines punctuate that last word by sinking into your drenched panties, gnawin’ until he lets it fall back with a sharp snap! that makes your heated skin sting.
You’re so wet that your inner thighs were gluing together with a thin sheen now, letting off the most sticky plap! of flesh-on-flesh as Toji throws one leg over his broad shoulder. The other pushed and pushed and pushed to spread apart with one of his rugged palms.
Hips squirming restlessly on your ancient bedsprings, “I’m positive. H-how bad can it really be?”
“Oh, princess, it won’t be bad.” The edges of Toji’s lips stretch at the way he hasn’t even started, and yet, you were already stuttering oh-so-cutely. The thickened curve of his thumb thumps against the top of your cunt, dragging a sultry touch down, down, doooown your sopping slit.
His eyes widen at the way it makes that flimsy fabric of your undergarments drench with a lil’ puddle of slick. And Toji feels his mouth water, “But don’t you take me for some priggish, posh prince that won’t eat out such a pretty pussy.”
“H-how crass!”
“Heh- if you think that’s crass…” Your knight doesn’t finish his sentence, only hooking a roaming index underneath the hemline of your panties.
Toji bores his half-lidded eyes straight into yours when he tugs- when he rips your starchy white underwear off. Absolutely nothing against his monstrous strength as your personal guard— “Skirts up.”
And you’re barely registering his grunted words fast enough to pull your numerous inner layers up to your heaving chest, barely on time before Toji jerks his head slightly back and spits.
Straight onto his target of your pussy, it cakes such a warm layer of sap that trickles down n’ in between your puffy folds.
“Messy giiirl–” He’s more than happy to spank the pad of his thumb down on your swollen entrance and smear the glossy mess. “Hidin’ this away under all those layers. How dare you.”
Prying the edge of your cunt open just enough so that he could sneak a teasing look at your sloppily soaked hole.
Toji’s scorching hot breath hits your skin in gusts once he’s leaning closer, nibbling on your fleshy pussylips until you whine. “O-oh my- s’it always this rude when one does…this?”
“No.” Gurgling out those syllables right where you were the most sensitive, he’s toying with you. Playing. Driving you mad with the tickling sensation of his scarred lips latching nose-deep into your pussy, “Just me.”
You buck, you keen, you spray him in even more gooey wads of slick that slip n’ slide riiight down Toji’s throat. And he stays there, maw agape so that you could watch each slithering trailway he drinks up like a man parched.
Like he was thirsting for water for years before coming across your leaking pussy, Toji spanks the underside of his palm against your cunt and makes you still.
“Now now-” Non-dominant hand latching to your waist to help you hold still, your knight snarls. “Enough runnin’, tell me what you want, princess.”
You claw desperately at the shaggy black strands of his bangs, a shrilling noise escaping you that you’ve never made before. Pulling him- “Want it, Toji. For you to do the…thing.”
“Ah ah-” Oh, he was having sooo much fun making his pretty royal beg for him like this. “The what? Didn’t you take all those ngh- elocution lessons, hm?”
Pulling away, in response your breath hitches with what sounds like a strangled sob, and it’s enough to make his aching cock twitch. Mindlessly humping the bulging outline of his girth against the cool wood of your bed frame, “Like my mouth?” Rubbin’ the line of his scar up and down your cunt, “My scar?”
Nodding and nodding because that’s all you can do, he watches on with a hooded gaze at the way your legs twitch with need.
Lengthy tongue flopping out even further, your mouth drops ever-so-slightly as you take in how long he was. And he was going to use that? Slathering the very edge of his temperate muscle over your folds, “Then uuuuuse- your-” Pokin’ his nubbed end just back in between your soppy lips to make you bawl- and right out again. “-words.‘
“P-please!”
“Hmm–?”
“Please-” Tears bubble up by the corners of your eyes, and your chin drops down to your chest as you wail out the rude, un-ladylike answer he’s been dying to hear these past few minutes. Past few years, really. “-e-eat me out?”
He was ruining you.
And did your command even have to be a question with the way that Toji was instantly diving his face between your trembling legs like his life depended on it.
Swirlin’ the textured buds of his tongue smack-dab on top of your swollen, sensitive folds to give you a goood, long lick. Once - just a taste before he pulls away with a short ‘fuck’, before surging back in.
Twice, before- thrice, he was addicted.
Smack after smack of his dewy wet lips that were simply drippin’ wet with all your juices, Toji’s gluing his maw against your core and sucking you all in.
He’s fighting to keep his verdant irises from rolling all the way back, he couldn’t even bring himself to even breathe before smushing his handsome features between your legs.
Gulping, “So fuckin’ sweet, princess. Sweeter than any wedding cake.” Toji’s knees go weak at the syrupy wet taste of you splashing on his tongue. “N’ I haven’t eaten allll day.”
And it wasn’t anything innocent - nothing sweet about it - you’re feeling the slimy tip of his tongue ease out further from between his puckered lips and swipe the dewy droplets of slick back into your hole.
Filling up your entrance with his fat girth until the only thing you were cutely clenching ‘round was his tongue. Your mouth shapes into a soft circle as he starts thrashing his dextrous tongue all the way back n’ forth. “Ngh- ngh, fuck, Toji. It f-feels so…”
Fuck- not even the gossip of the court ladies talked about it being this good.
“Ohhh– what’s that? Using such expletives, where are your manners, hm?”
You’re fisting the expensive coverings of your bed as the tender, velvety underside starts scraping along just where you were fountaining out beads of slick the most. Toji’s high cheekbones hollow out with a slurp as he pumps his tongue in furiously. “How can I have manners when- oh fuck!”
Surprising yourself with the sheer carnal need that was seeping into your voice, your hazed pupils travel in circles inside of your eyes in synchronized tempo with his swirlin’ tongue. Rough, rugged.
“Tha’s it- that’s it.” Toji has the audacity to knock his pointed chin against the base of your cunt and snicker, spitting out yet another stringy wad of saliva that makes your pussy glisten damply. Splat! “Any louder and the entire hah! palace is gonna hear, princess.”
“And whose fault is that- oh!”
“Yours.” He answers, simply.
Already having located your swollen, perky clit and giving it a playful bite. Your spine arches back into the soft blankets as you see fucking stars, clawing through his sweaty scalp. “I-I should admonish you for cheek, Sir Toji.”
“Go on, then.” His gravelly tone was dangerous, sounding oh-so-vulgar from down below once Toji’s plastering his mouth in an open-mouthed smooch against your cunt and prying your pussy further open.
Breath hitching, his prolonged middle finger tugs on your swollen folds and slips just the plush pad in. Groaning at just how wet n’ ready you were for him, “Tell me to stop.” Stretch-stretch-stretching your snug entrance around his bullying digit, “Hmm– command me, princess.”
Sloppy and aching.
Eating you out like he was starved, you’re barely given the time to catch your breath.
Damn near crying out by the time he’s scouring your glossy folds with the curvature of his finger. So big that Toji’s reaching every geysering nook and cranny without even trying– “I-I– fuck! More-”
He gasps, “More?”
“M-more.” Your chin slaps stupidly against the treacly puddle of drool on your chest, one you didn’t even realize was there before. Hazily lidded eyes blinking down at him, “More, please?”
Even when you were this gone, you still used your adorable manners.
And that fact was enough for Toji to slip his free hand between his legs and massage the mountainous plane of his palm down on his throbbing length. Snaking a hand between his trousers, he silently thanked the wedding dress code for making it so that he didn’t need to wear his full metal armor today.
“My cute princess wants more. You- do you even know what you’re haaaa- asking for?” Toji pants - he heaves. Your cunt singing out a carnal squelch! as he’s crowning just the tip of his nimble index past your filthy hole.
Nearly the entirety of his upper weight crushing your body to the bed, movements jittery with desperation. He’s suckling on your clit like his favorite gummy whilst stretchin’ out your glutinous insides as if he was trying to mold you to his each shape.
Tracing your mushy channel in zig-zagged lines, the bed creaks each time you’re bucking to follow his lecherous movements. “D’you even know what I can do? How much I can streeeetch this tight pussy out?” Squeezing in another finger, he’s rawly opening up your cunt with crazed thrusts. “How much I’ve yearned-”
And more to shut himself up than anything, Toji stuffs his mouth full of your pretty lil’ clit. Craning his neck to let him drag his unfastened mouth over n’ over in slobbering drags.
Letting your restless hips ride his features, “O-ohhh Toji– it feels so good.” You mewl, your entire body burning after each knocking thrash of his barreling fingers.
He had three- three of them inside you. Slick, glissading, searching.
“Promise to hah- scream my name, princess.” He pipes up, still salivating all down your slit with ribbony wires of spittle that start formulating a puddle beneath you. Sexily-placed scar rubbing a lecherous massage as the curling tip of his tongue draws a few hearts on your clit. Like he was strangely…distracting you. Before-
“T-Toooji! There! There-”
He strikes your g-spot, mercilessly.
Whack after whack he’s pushing until the knobbled bumps of his knuckles are rawly red, poking into your deepest depths.
“Yeahhh- just like that, atta girl.” Toji utters on your tender, wet pussy and you see stars. Circling cartoonishly around and around your head while he keeps on probin’ your favorite spot.
A place you’d only read about in those steamy romance novels your attendants smuggled, and now your knight was treating it like some cute glossy button he kept on squishing. The steady pushes of his digits bruising a few circumferences onto that spot, he was leaving your head feverishly empty.
And you can feel his smug smirk on your pussylips, faltering ever-so-slightly when he’s twitching in his hands.
Oh, Toji could cum from just this.
Forced to dab the heavy padding of his thumb over his weeping divot, he knits his dark brows and tries to make sure that this was real. That he really had you like this - all whimpering and drooling with both pairs of pretty lips, the crevice of your mouth opening with the loudest, most broken sob of- “Feels so strangeee–” Hips jutting, “I’m close.”
“F-fuck.” And if his voice broke on that last line, you were too far gone to recognize it. Like a madman, he’s twisting his mouth to now drink in all of you.
Everywhere from the puffed-up nub of your clit, to where your sappy entrance was bulging with all of him. All his rummaging size that dug against your delicate sweet spots, Toji was kissin’ you everywhere and anywhere.
Until his mouth burned, and your thighs quaked. “G-gonna…I’m gonna-” You’re croaking out, throat turning husky every time his tongue rolled over your clit, snaking up and down your folds.
“Cum- cum on my tongue, princess.” Toji bores his dilated green gaze straight up at you as he grins. Lovingly. Pussydrunken. “That’s an order.”
And then you cum- and it’s right all over his mouth like he’d hoped.
All down his tongue. Pooling at the back of his raping throat. Thick, splashing waves of sap that he’d love to drown himself in - to drown himself in your sweet, orgasming pussy.
Toji’s riding you through each peak of your high on the dot, slashing his tongue in a slanted drag across your clit repeatedly. It’s such a primal back n’ forth that leaves your hips slamming back into his mouth.
Voice wavering, it takes you a few seconds to blink away the blotches of pure white staining your vision. “Th-that feels so–” Still suffering from each ravaged shake that wrecks you, “Wait- are you…”
And as your vision finally clears just the slightest bit, you’re catching the sight of Toji’s beefy arm disappearing underneath your bed posts. Moving to and fro angrily–
“Nothing to w-worry about, princess.” His smoky croon makes the line of your spine shiver, lavishing your cunt with another polish of his mouth. Allll the way up to your pulsing clit, he gives your g-spot another merciless thump. “Nothing to worry about at- fuck-”
He might be the strongest of all your knights, but he can’t handle this.
Can’t handle you looking so damn dazed on his tongue, twitching with even the tiniest graze over your sweet spots. Tearing out of your pretty pussy all for him - that he can’t help but reach his high.
And Toji wasn’t going to let it go to waste, no- in a quick split-second, he’s forcing himself from his kneeled position at the edge of the bed and hiking a meaty thigh beside your hips. Straddling you with all his bulky bodyweight, grabbing ahold of his reddened fat cock as he cums.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” He’s nibbling down on his rosy lower lip and still can’t hold back the sheer amount of moans that escape him.
Your eyes widen at the voluminous droplets of seed dribbling from that circular end of his shaft, throbbing and glittering with wiry strands of cum clinging to him. “Th-there’s so much, Toji.”
Head slouching forwards- “S’all for you, princess.” Toji’s orgasm hits him like a damn carriage, and it’s pure adoration to keep on creaming himself to the way you looked underneath him that he isn’t simply collapsing on top of you right now.
Whimpering, your cunt starts throbbing needily once more at the splatters of syrupy ivory sap staining your sheets now. Making a mess.
Husking, “S-s’all-” Still airy n’ half-lidded, Toji moves as if he’s in a dream when he creeps his cherry-red tip towards your plush lips. Inch by inch. Toned hips moving forward, toes curling as his angry cock cums even more– “-for you.”
“Oh- mmmm—” You’re looking up at him through your lashes once the last few pearly droplets of seed trickle down to your maw like a white gloss, mouth all full. Toji’s mushroom tip was as pink as a strawberry and just as massively thick, scraping your jaw with the puffy edges of his veins.
Finally stealing a proper look at him, he just looked so attractive with your slick sparkling on his chin. Plastering a wet gleam all the way from the tips of his cheeks down his sharp jaw.
Just dripping wet - he was wearing the mess he’d made of your pussy like a medal.
“Oh. Oh.” Toji’s dark pupils dilate, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said he had heart eyes. Shuffling further down to give your soaked mouth a looong, thorough kiss. His first, in fact, that he’s been saving for either you or no one. Not that he would tell you that. “Congratulations on the wedding.”
You’re whining, as if you’d just remembered what today was. “And what about the problem of an heir?”
“O-one thing at a time, princess. Besides…”
Toji didn’t have to finish his sentence for you, too, to register what his keener ears had picked up. The distant thundering of footsteps-
“They’re back.”
And just as soon as he’d arrived, he was gone.
A fever dream that never happened- or, at least, Toji would never believe it happened if not for the cloying treacly taste of you still sticking to his lips. And if Ijichi arrived alone, with Naoya still in the throes of his tantrum, and sleeping over at some other ward of the palace - well, he may have just cracked a smile.
“What a great affair today- eh, Ijichi?”
“Y-yes, sir!”
.
.
.
Naoya accepted your explanation of using oils to trick the court into thinking the marriage was consummated, but what wasn’t accepted was the fact that weeks had passed and you still weren’t with child.
With an heir.
And right now the pressure from the court was crushing–
“You must understand, my lady. You’re already at that age, and our majesties aren’t getting any younger!”
“Quite right quite right, an heir- if we can have an announcement before the upcoming ball-”
“It is imperative we have a newborn soon. Our enemies will see this as a weakness-”
“Right, and I believe Naoya will attend to that.” You’re throwing a bored glance at the way your husband lounged near the end of the council table. Stood tall, and aloof with power. And you didn’t mean just the matters with your kingdom’s enemies, Naoya hadn’t even tried to touch you since that night.
To which you’ve been quite grateful, frankly.
You cringe at the thought of what this arranged marriage may come to, and the fact that there was certainly no way Naoya could even hold a candle to how good Toji was-
No, subtly, you’re shaking your head. You couldn’t be thinking about these sorts of things during an official advisory meeting - especially not when your personal knight stood guard right beside your bejeweled chair.
“-and his highness Naoya was so passionate on your wedding night.” Tuning back into the important conversation at hand, you’re almost regretting it.
The elder that’d just spoken up sounded almost giddy with excitement, and you’re realizing - at his red-blotched cheeks - that he must have been part of the group to assess your bedsheets on the morning after your wedding night.
Plowing on, almost conspiratorial, “I mean- the way those fine silks were torn- surely you must try harder, my lady, to replicate that night. Otherwise we might have to consider additional royal consorts.”
Beside you, you’re feeling Toji’s towering figure stiffen- recreating that night with Naoya was the last thing he wanted. And he’s growling out through his helmet before he can control himself, “We have no ongoing wars. We have no rebellions. I’d say we’re quite at peace without rushing the princess, minister.”
“And who gave you permission to speak, knight?”
Oh, you don’t have to look up to know who seethed.
The shards of vicious ice cutting through his voice was enough for you to already envision the glare that Naoya was sending Toji’s way. “And you’re one of the lower-born ones- a peasant, are you not? Aren’t you the one that had to get on your knees and beg to be able to take training?”
Toji grits his teeth so hard he tastes rusted metal, “I am.”
“So it is much above you to even breathe so loud during a meeting such as this- is it not?”
“It is.”
“Then why do you butt in like some- some lover when we talk of her duty-”
“Because my duty is to the princess you impotent lout.” Toji’s voice was thunderous, making the long wooden table tremble and the court advisors to hold onto their breath. You were quite sure you saw at least one faint.
And Toji would let anyone mouth off against him - but one word against you and he would stand up to the king that knighted him himself. Nevermind some arrogant prince who couldn’t count the blessings he had.
A prince who, he was sure, was on the verge of bursting right now.
Face an unseemingly shade of red, veins popping, mouth spitting with what were surely punishments–
“I will remind you, husband-” Your voice speaks up, with all the regal authority that half this court wouldn’t be able to muster up. And every head snaps to you as if watching a particularly complex jousting competition. Your eyes narrow down at Naoya, “-that you are not king, yet.”
It didn’t even matter if he was - you would still not allow him to lay a hand on your steadfast knight.
And there was nothing more to say.
Gingerly, the senior advisor, Gakuganji, is slamming down the tiny golden gavel to adjourn the court session. And every huffy elder nearly tumbles out of their seat to escape the stifling tension between you three.
“You-” Naoya declares, as he stands up. With a jolt, you realize that he’s glaring venomously at none other than Toji. “I might not be king but I am next in line. And you shall do well to stay away from my wife-”
Those razor-sharp eyes now falling on you, and even though Toji’s body moves- his heart can’t help but ache at the fact that he had no right to stop the future king - your husband - from daring to look at you with anything but love. Suspiciously, “-or else.”
In a flutter of velvety capes, Naoya is dragging his court entourage off - each one undoubtedly buzzing to gossip outside about the scandal of your knight as they slam the door behind them.
And then, you’re alone.
It’s tough to be alone with someone as princess - always in the presence of elders, guests, or subjects - and this is the first time the two of you have been together in a room, unsupervised, since…that night.
Toji’s mouth runs dry at his blatant disrespect- not only did he have to embarrass you, but he had made you fall within Naoya’s line of sight so vile. “My p- princess, I am sorr-”
“Touch me.”
Fuck.
It’s only once your face breaks out into a tentative smile that he’s realizing he might have just said that out loud. And you’re standing- walking, cornering him, “Well…if you really want to, Sir Toji.”
“But your husband…”
And he didn’t really care for that prince, he only cared for what they might say about you if anyone saw. If anyone knew-
“Since when—” You’re drawling, eyes dipping lower. He really was oh-so-sculptured in his armor, all broad lines and chiseled curves. And it made the thin silk of your dress rub lewdly when you’re clenching your thighs, “-have we cared about him?”
Suddenly, you’re getting a demonstration on why exactly Toji Fushiguro was the fittest of all your knights - the one chosen specifically for you.
Because your back hits the frigid coldness of the table before the recognition hits you- as soon as you blink, as soon as you can gasp, Toji’s lifting you clean off the ground and sprawling you out so prettily.
Right then and there in the middle of the meeting hall.
The velvety fabric of your dress draping across half the chairs, legs flying up into the air in such an unroyal way until Toji’s grabbing ahold of your ankles. Stretchin’ them out to lock around the back of his neck with one big, beefy hand.
You ogle the way his plates of armor shift as his biceps flex from underneath, pushing apart your too-many layers and twisting your undergarments just to the side. “Toji wh-what are you…”
“Sayin’ those things and expecting me not to lose it.” Comes out the answer - rough, hoarse. Like every syllable was wrenched from the back of his smoky throat, sensual. “Maybe I’ve been too- nice- princess.”
You’re whimpering, hips bucking needily off of the flat surface when Toji punctuates the very end of his sentence by rovering the blunt, glinting hilt of his sword between your legs.
Safe. He would always keep you safe. Letting that scalding coldness drag down, down, down between them–
“Oh- fuck!” Before pressing down so meanly on the slope of your throbbing pussy with his metal shaft, you’re seeing stars once he’s nudgin’ apart your puffy folds just enough to locate your clit and massage.
“Seems like we’ve taught my lil’ princess some baaad manners, huh?” He’s snickering, ‘round and ‘round go the gyrations of decorated hilt.
And you’re so wet that every swerve of his blade leaves the barren air ringing with a muffled squelch! Thighs twitching further apart, he takes the opportunity to clunk his muscular thigh up on the ledge and let it grind just teasingly against your cunt.
Watching in awe as a puddle of silvery sap starts polishing his knee-plate, “Why don’t you get yourself off, princess? Hah- use me.”
“S-so crude.”
Latching onto the broad deltoids of his shoulders, Toji’s bending and bending you all the way in half like a parchment. Smooth fringes of his knee sinking in past the plush of your thighs and draggin’ up your slit.
The metallic surface of his armor squeaks when you prod up into it sloppily, riding his knee. All the way up to his thigh-
“And this, princess–” He gruffs out from above you, scorching hot pants sending goosebumps down your neck. Your hamstrings buuurn when he pushes against you, mounted, almost like he was fucking you- just with clothes and armor unfortunately on. “-is called a mating press. Never taught that one in elocution classes before, huh?”
A mating press- oh, Toji had you in a mating press, and he was rutting down into you until your joints popped in protest.
Wrangling the fronts of your knees until they hit your tits, he’s lavishing his tongue on the crook of your neck and biting.
“Oh, what I would ngh- give to have you like this.” Scarred maw tickling your skin, he’s humping you like he’s in heat. “Would absolutely ruin you.”
“S-so why don’t you-” You’re whimpering once he’s gripping a good handful of your left ass cheek, usin’ the lewd leverage to motion you in a manhandled pace. You’re not just being angled, he’s lifting you almost into midair so that you could hit the most perfect spots on your pussy against his thigh.
Crushing the front of your perky clit against his muscles, he snarls when your riding becomes more erratic. His ears burning, “Don’t- haaaah- don’t tempt me, girl- m’already so-”
He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence for Toji’s mossy eyes to drop and for you to realize exactly what he’s talking about.
The firm, rock-hard outline of his cock that was peeking out through the gaps in his armor- you don’t even consider what you’re doing before you’re undoing one of his tight laces to let the metal drop and show you all of his bulge.
“Oh, shit-” Toji gasps, eyes sprinting to the back of his skull when you tug down his black trousers to palm his throbbing erection. “Oh shit oh shit-”
“I-I thought these were padding-”
He smirks, “Heh- not for me.”
And, truly, you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at Toji’s fat, veiny cock when you had the chance to on your wedding night. Because he was just so damn big that you’re finding trouble wrapping your hand around his entire girth, palm tingly where you could feel all his prominent veins pulsing across.
Zig-zagged patterns that Toji hunches over and makes you feel-
“M’not fuckin’ breeding ya.” He spits as soon as he lifts his dripping knee off with a sopping plap! Though, he still keeps his sheathed sword hilt positioned on top of your clit. “Just let me…just…”
Toji couldn’t even begin to explain how filthy it felt to be doing what he was doing.
Holding you all spread apart for him while he fucked you- all without putting it inside like he so badly wanted to. Just lazed, sensual draaaags of his lengthy shaft straightly across your slit. All the way from where his pointed mushroom tip poked your clit, to the innocent smooch of his balls against your cunt.
Bass voice hitching with a crack, “I can’t- I-I can’t I can’t-” It sounded as if he was losing it- Toji’s given an inch and he takes a mile. Rearing the bulbous end of his cockhead to slip underneath your panties- “M’gonna go fucking crazy like this.”
“F-fuuuck- feels like you’re ngh- really fucking me, Toji–”
“Don’t say that- ohhh, don’t say that, princess.” Warning you from above, Toji’s free hand grabs a handful of your sopping soaked underwear so that he can wrap the useless fabric around his shaft whilst he grinds down on you. Faster. “S’fuckin’ dangerous, might just end up giving birth to a heh- Fushiguro.”
Mewling whines, “I-I don’t mind-”
The only thing you can get out before Toji crashes his mouth into yours and makes you shut up before you made him even more feral. Vulgar groans departed into your lips as he thrusts across your pussy, barely audible over the sluuuurp of your two juices mixin’.
“Now whaaat have I said about talking out- of- her-” His sensitive pink slit scratches the nub of your clit along with his blade haft, and that makes you see white.
Again and again and again- so close. Toji was just so unintentionally sexy as he pushed you closer n’ closer, meaty thighs sticking against yours, beads of sweat splattering down onto your body, and it only made you even wetter to imagine how much better it would feel if he actually–
“Oh-” Your knight gruffs out, stern lips twitching into a smirk when he snaps his eyes down to your furiously fluttering pussy. “-you’re cumming, princess.”
You- Clenching your eyes as you throw your head back and mewl. You were.
And you didn’t even realize it until Toji was pressing one particularly prominent vein between your bloated pussylips, letting the gleaming curve of it dig back n’ forth against your cunt and grind you through your high.
White-hot bolts of fire sparking, spine arching into his armor.
“O-oh please–” Such pretty noises of pleasure escape your lips, and right now you’re too far gone to wonder or even care if someone might hear from outside. Toes curling, “Toji Toji Toji- Toooji—!”
Chilling metal hilt scraping your pretty clit, “That’s it- thaaat’s it- might not get to stuff you like I want to, princess. But you-” Darkened green eyes stare into yours seriously, “But you’re cumming for me.”
Toji keeps on staring right into your eyes as he fucks himself against your pussylips- straight into his own high. Forcing himself to milk out every drop, to cream all over your puckered lips with a froth of sappy white.
Hissing, it’s all he can do to stop himself from throwing his head back at his orgasm - not wanting to miss a single nanosecond of your expressions.
You’re blubbering out stupidly, “Will it always ngh- feel this good, Toji?”
“I can’t always have you, princess.” With a saccharine-sweet squelch! he dabs the thick end of his thumb into the pool of white that’d collected near your entrance. Letting it drip a few speckles of cum on its way to plop! right between your pouty lips. Making you suck.
It’s all Toji can do to not keen as he responds, “And- and when you…” He gulps, and in all the years you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so pained. Sage eyes narrowing, he gazes into yours as if he was trying to memorize each blink. Each twinkle. Each shade. “-when you have children, please- please don’t let them have…”
Your eyes, the ones he’d never forget. The ones he’ll see till his dying day. He could handle watching you grow your family, raising heirs while he stands by your sides as he always has.
But if he has to look at them and be looked at through your eyes- ones that never knew him as you did, he doesn’t think even the strongest knight could bear it.
It’s what he wanted to say.
It’s what he would’ve never forgiven himself if he said- because who was he, really, to demand such a thing from you?
So it was only because the universe had finally taken pity on poor Toji Fushiguro and his hopeless love that they decided to spare him this. Because just before he could dare finish that sentence, there’s a soft gasp from the other end of the doorway.
Your blood crystalizes into ice, and Toji’s immediately covering your body- shining blade honed in on the faint figure of Ijichi, who’d very obviously been handed the task of bringing you two back to court.
“S-sorry for interrupting!”
With a bow so low that his wiry glasses clatter briefly onto the marble floor, Ijichi shuts the door fast enough that your mind - still reeling from your recent orgasm - starts to wonder whether he might even have been a figment of your imagination.
Until Toji breathes out a ragged sigh of almost relief, “I have a new recruit to teach about knocking, princess.” Before staring back at you - and that ivory puddle of cum between your legs, and he grins. “Keep that there.”
.
.
.
Toji Fushiguro knew you had a penchant for wandering off- it’s how he met you, after all.
That starry-eyed lil’ girl, just a few years younger than he was, who was roaming around the bustling streets of the town market with absolutely no sense of danger or emergency. Seriously- why the hell were you entertaining that hawker trying to sell you glass as real pearls, when you were obviously wearing the real thing?
And even from a distance, it was obvious that you were out-of-place. So Toji, with all his wizened fourteen years as an actual townsfolk, was the one to help you.
“-from the greatest depths of the greatest sea, I tell you, little miss! And only for you I will give you the low, low price of-”
“Absolutely nothing.” Toji had snarled, signature scowl on his face - he was the most feared of the neighborhood boys for a reason. “That’s what tha crap’s worth.”
Pawing a hand on the silken sleeve of your dress, it’s only after he’d tugged you away from the shop and by his side that he’s remembering something you nobles (even badly disguised ones) had called ah- etiquette.
But no matter, it was too late for that now, and you weren’t complaining either. Only peering up at him with a questioning gaze as Toji pulled you closer to his dirtied undershirt with a hand on your shoulder, “Scam the rich not the kids, fuckin’ conman.”
That seemed to draw a reaction from you, “Oi- who’re you calling a kid-”
“And who’re you calling a conman.” Indignantly, the older man eyeballed the two of you menacingly, “Who even are you, little twerp- I can’t imagine you’re her boy-”
“Gods yeah, I’m her- boy.”
The words made his ears hot with blood, Toji wasn’t popular with anyone in the neighborhood - all finding him too frightening and big - let alone with the daughter of some aristocracy like you. But you weren’t correcting him, either!
“S-so–” The hawker seemed to have believed him, at the way his tannish cheeks were boiling bright red more than anything. It was enough embarrassment for him, and Toji’s turning to tug you away, “-you better- stay away from my girl!”
Hell, that was worse than embarrassing.
Toji’s noticing that damn near the entire market turns at his cracking voice and wishes the ground would swallow him whole.
Even more so when he’s out of earshot of the marketplace and you speak up- “So, my…boy, huh?” Shit- he was still holding onto your hand. You giggle when Toji lets go as if you burned, finding the older boy hilarious. He turns to you and oh- oh, his breath catches at your smile. “Guess that makes you the future king- you seem quite a lot better than that Zenin boy, anyways.”
“Future…king?”
It’s only then that he hears it- the galloping of horses so powerful that they could only be part of the palace’s special forces. The call of ‘princess! There you are-’
“-out of it.” Wafts Ijichi’s tremoring voice through his little reverie. Tone slightly raised over the humming orchestra, “Toji, sir- sir!”
Toji jolts as he’s brought back- right, here he was. Stationed guard inside the ballroom of one of the most important annual functions of your kingdom, to bless the first few months of the newly-married couple.
He’d zoned out just as your father, the king, had introduced the two of you, and Naoya had led you by your hand for the honored first dance - nothing worse than seeing you in the arms of another.
He’d rather live in his memories with you, than a real life without.
And that brought him back to Ijichi- whispering, though Toji wasn’t sure if it could count as whispering if half the surrounding nobles could likely hear. “Is this because of the other week when I caught you and the princess-”
“You will shut your mouth, Ijichi.” He cuts him off, tightly.
“Yes, sir!”
Bored eyes refocusing back on the middle of the dancefloor, it seems the first dance was finally, torturously over. And Toji’s licking his dry lips as his gaze instantly finds you, as they always can’t help but do.
Always looking at you.
Two parts of the same heart when they meet yours- and Toji feels a part of his break at the sad glimmer in your eyes when you’d wandered to the side of the polished floor, smearing one of those aching faux smiles he’s learned to distinguish. You wanted to leave.
How could you stand there like that?
So bothered and beautiful in your flowing gown, looking as if the rays of the chandeliers above were bouncing off of your sparkling dress - like they, too, knew they wouldn’t shine half as bright as you. And where was your husband-
Oh.
Toji feels something ugly twist at the sight of Naoya talking with a court lady, a smizing smile on his lips. Too close. Too hurtful. And it’s a damn miracle he didn’t slay the heir right then and there.
“Ijichi-” He hisses out, suddenly. Nodding as the other man yelps into rapt attention, “Hold my station- I have fuckin’ important business to attend to.”
The new recruit almost looks as if he was about to argue his superior orders, that is, until he follows Toji’s line of sight to meet you.
“Understood, sir. Please take care of the princess.”
It takes Toji almost fifteen years to reach you, and only three steps.
“Toji!” You gasp, seeing your lifelong friend bound up to your side, pointedly away from his station. “What are you doing here-”
“Do you want it to be him?”
Eyes boring into yours, hands itching for your own. He can apologize and grovel at your feet later for cutting the future queen off, but right now he just needs to know. And you already know, too.
Your eyes darting to the middle of the dancefloor, where the string quartet had started up a new romantic melody, and Naoya was dragging a giggling noble lady into a dance.
You could feel the eyes on you, and not just Toji’s. “Consorts. I told him I didn’t want- and then- about the heir- I think he just wanted consorts from the beginning. That’s why…but even though we’ve never consummated, our marriage is a contract so I can’t.”
“Do you want it to be him?” And Toji never repeats himself - not to eager new knights, generals, or those court elders - always listened to.
But he would echo those very words to you as many times as you wanted until he was heard.
Your voice was almost a whisper- “No.”
There comes your answer, and there comes that familiar scarred grin of his.
“Then come with me.”
.
.
.
“M-mm right there, Toji–” Your cries rip through the empty atmosphere of the knight’s quarters, right in unison with the rickety creak! given off by Toji’s shabby bed as you buck your hips in tandem.
The glossed walls of your cunt scouring for the touch of his roughened fingertips, scraping and stirrin’ right between your pussylips and hitting the bottom deeply. It’s driving you mad how easily he’s spotting your sultry g-spot, clawing at his ruthless wrist-
“Impatient giiirl.” He croons out cockily from above you, words huffed through clenched teeth. And Toji’s pressing his capped knee against your restless thigh to make you take it- “Unless you want my fat fuckin’ cock to hah- stretch the princess out then take it.”
You’re whimpering, spine arching off of the clammy blankets when his middle finger flicks your sweetest spot. “I-is it always that big that you have to stretch it out this much.”
“No.” Comes the answer - and Toji’s free hand toying with your left hand. Particularly the diamond ring on it, one he’s unapologetically plucking off of your finger and pushing onto his own - his thick pinky finger being where it would fit.
Before slipping the banded digit past your dewy wet folds with a pryin’ squeeeelch, the noise is so loud and lewd that Toji groans as your greedy cunt swallows his fourth finger inside. “Jus’ me, princess.”
Just what- your brain can barely even compute past the stretch. The firm ridges of your knight’s lengthy fingerpads barreling straight past your elastic hole.
Opening you up so much on his digits that it takes you a few breaths, a few seconds staring between Toji’s meaty thighs for you to understand what he meant- oh.
He was just that big.
Whimpering, the chilling royal insignia creeps along your gummy walls and presses deep into your tender areas. Splotchy puddles of sap dribbling down Toji’s wrist, “Chatting to me from there too, huh? So loud- they’ll hear us at the ball, princess.”
They wouldn’t - the Keep too barren with every knight stationed, and the music of the orchestra too loud. You’re sure that the royal event was so bustling that no one’s even noticed you were gone, yet.
But you mewl anyway, “Th-then- ngh! Then just wan’ you inside, Toji- please.”
Oh, the sound of your cute begging makes Toji’s ravaged, aching cock twitch. “Ohhh- I wanna fuck those manners outta you-” He groans, head slouching backwards once he’s assessing your driveling cunt.
Faster, harder.
Toji’s fingers carnally itch your pussy like he was crazed, pumping feverish in n’ out like he wasn’t even letting your slick, bulging folds get used to the stretch. Just watching with a leer as you struggle.
Gruffing, “Open those pretty legs for me wider- yeahhh–” Toji’s sweaty, armorless body nuzzles the insides of your sheeny limbs. His bulky legs spread apart until his heavy erection throb-throb-throbs by the side of your inner thighs.
“Wh-what are you-”
“Shhh watch.”
You can’t do anything but gawk once he’s rovering his free hand over your tummy- doughy thumb pressing down on the button of your clit, index streeeeetching upwards.
He was measuring you. Measuring just how far his cock would go inside you.
Once the curve of your knight’s index draws a horizontal line about halfway down your stomach, he grins. “There-” X marks the spot, and you yelp once the stern point of his finger taps right there. “-m’gonna fuck an ngh- heir into you there, princess.”
“Th-then do it, Sir Toji.” You huff, brows knitting with impatience.
“Well…” He drawls, and for a second you think that Toji’s about to pull away and leave you all high and dry. But, really, he’s just tugging on his snug white undershirt, dampened and clinging onto him with sweat in a way that made it look painted.
Your mouth waters as you peek at the curly black happy trail which was lining the middle of his abs - so toned and tense that you could count exactly eight. Maybe more.
A pearly droplet of sweat clings onto one of his shaggy bangs, and drips- slithering between Toji’s pectorals, his bumpy core, disappearing into where his heavy cock was fat n’ throbbing.
In the dimmed lighting of Toji’s bedroom, you can already make out just how red and pretty his bulging tip was, curved just slightly right and weeping fat globules of frothy pre. It collects in a sleek mess over your pussylips, damn near ten inches of veiny shaft settled between your slit and waiting.
He was weighty.
“-if my queen asks.”
And Toji knows you. He waits just until your mouth opens to snark back- before kissin’ your glistening entrance with the edge of his mushroom tip and pushing—
“O-ohhh fuck–!” You’re letting off a shrill wailing whimper, hands reaching somewhere- anywhere for you to hold onto for dear life while Toji fit himself inside your tight pussy.
Slurring, you grasp onto the rippling muscles of his deltoids and claw such red, red lines. “Shoooo big-”
Toji’s leaning himself closer, he’s slouching. He’s swabbing his plump, swollen tip deeper-
“A m-mating press.” Barking out a sudden laugh - octaves higher, wild like he was still in disbelief. Toji snakes his beefy arms underneath both your thighs and lifts you up until your ass cheeks are almost off the aged mattress. Folding and folding- he really was pushing you into a mating press. “I have you in a mating press- you. Like I’ve always dreamed.”
Before the words have even left his mouth, he reaches down to swab your bloated folds with the edge of his thumb. Straightly smoothing your pussylips and watching how you gulping down each solid, rummaging inch.
“And yer taking me-” Gasping, just the slightestshift closer leaves his pointed cockhead gliding off your walls and burying even deeper. Snagging his tender veins on your orifice and making him hiss, “-taking me allll up inside. O-oh, you’re so fucking- tight-”
It’s the first time you’ve ever been stretched out this much. Toji’s so damn big that it’s like your soppy walls were clinging to him like a second skin.
Not even thrusting properly, quick, rapid half-ruts that make him feel more like an animal. The curves of his spine bowing against where your syrupy pussy was being stretched out, “But will it even fit, then?”
“M’gonna make it fit.” He growls, slowing down the mindless cadence of his hips to a lazy tempo that makes you keen at the sensual lightning bolts of his veiny shaft.
Feeling every twirling coil and pulse shoveling through your entrance.
Possessively, Toji’s guiding one of your sweaty palms within his. Placing it right down on your tummy and pushing on the back to make you press- “Here- feel.”
“Oh-oh!”
You’re seeing white- the walls of your pussy being sagged by his cock’s weight.
Toji was making you massage where his pounding shaft was creating a lil’ bulging outline. Feeling every mazing bump where his slimy tip was snaking to your deepest depths. “Feel the way you’re sluuuurping me up s-so good. S’like you’re made for me.”
Crying out- you can’t keep yourself from planting your feet flat and leaning into his touch. “Don’t tease me and j-just put it all the way in, To- fuck!”
“Awww, but I’ve waited years, princess.” He snickers, kneading harder on the cylindrical ridge of your cute tummy bulge. And oh- Toji can feel that precise moment he’s bottoming out.
When he’s bubbling out a fat wad of precum that smears against the very back of your cervix, the edge of his ballsack hitting your cunt. Finally. Finally.
Panting- seething through his teeth at the gooey warmth, “Princess- princess princess- oh, princess, m’finally inside you.”
Experimentally, Toji reels his hips all the way back - all the way until the cherry-red end of his cocktip was sticking to your hole like adhesive. Before slamming right back in- “And again.” Another. “And again. And again and- hngh- again.”
“Shit- shit shit shit y-you really are all the way inside.”
You caress the mean bulging swab of his cocktip against the top of your tummy, confirming to your melted mind that he wasn’t actually thumping your damn lungs - even though it might feel like it.
“Of course I am-” Toji doesn’t end his hoarse declaration with any punctuation. He’s finishing it with a quick splat! of saliva gluing your lips shut, “You’re mine.”
With a hand on your tummy to balance himself, he leans just the barest inches backwards until he can do the same to your puckered pussy. Splatter! It’s so wet and gleaming with moisture that forms the most sinful pool, “All mine. And I’m yours.”
And now he’s fucking you like a madman, drilling the split-ended circle of his orifice against your mushy walls until you sob.
The size of him was insane. It was stretching you out so good that all you can do is flap your mouth-watered tongue wetly inside and yeowl. “Ngh- feels so good- feels so full inside with you, Toji.”
“Yer gonna feel ngh- even fuller when I fuck a baby into ya, girl.”
He scoffs once an especially hard thrust leaves the base of his cock stinging, and you shoved up to the headboard. “And n-no running.” Before you know it, Toji’s maintaining a rude chokehold of your neck and using it to drag you after every recoil. “How m’I gonna fuck a nghhh- baby into ya if you run, hm?”
Fuck- Toji’s jackhammers were vulgar - almost vicious.
Every spank of his v-line let off aggressive paps! that made your eardrums pop. Your lips wobbling each n’ every time his bulging tip was stirrin’ around your insides to pinpoint every sensitive orifice.
You feel the thin line running down his plummy tip scrape right along the bundle of your g-spot, dolloping out a stream of precum as hello. Grumbling, “Hmmm– how cute. Hope our heir’s just as cute as ngh- you.”
“Gonna be j-just as rude as you.” You’re mumbling, and his absolute favorite moment was whenever your hips would be so stimulated that you’re perking away from his thrusts.
All the better for him to tighten your airflow and bring you back down- humming at the erotic jiggle of your ass cheeks against his chiseled pelvis. “Heh- then I guess I’ll be the fun parent, meanwhile you…”
And fuck- fuck, he almost doesn’t finish his sentence with the way your tight, circular-shaped insides clench.
A glittery gloss of slick dripping down the sides of your pussylips, Toji’s scarred lips curl once he drags your pliant body back to his again. Relishing in the harsh smack! against his abs, “You can sit there while I give you a pretty lil’ heir. Make my h-hah! pretty lil’ princess all round n’ glowing. All-”
He doesn’t know what not to do. He’s touching you everywhere - anywhere.
From the underside of your thighs to the perky nub of your clit, Toji brandishes his thumb against your nub and watches you quake.
“-all pumped- full- until you can’t take anymore. S’my damn duty. I’ll wash them- dress them, put them to sleep, feed them- don’t have to do a nghh- damnnn thing. Just- get- pregnant.”
With the fringe of his muscular thigh lifting to keep you from running, you can only throw your head back and trill at the dual knocks of his cock against your g-spot, fingers against your clit. “I’m close- close- haaah not gonna last, Toji.”
“Already fuckin’ know.” He could feel the way your cute insides were clamping after every sweet ba-dump! of your racing heartbeat. The heavy curve of his balls begging him to milk himself on you, “Cum for me. Cum on my cock- fuck! The mama needs to cum if we’re gonna get you pregnant, princess.”
“Please- mm–”
“Deep breaths, deeeeep breaths.” With every heaving deep breath, his rams only grew deeper, too. Before ultimately Toji spreads his sweat-sheened thighs wider and groans— “Cum.”
It’s impossible not to listen - not when his fat, vein-decorated cock was splitting you open just so. Swervin’ your sticky walls apart and shoveling himself all the way near your throat whilst you reached your high.
“It’s sooo- oh.” Your vision dazed with stars, and it took so much out of you to even grind your hips down and meet his sloppy tempo. Keening, “Cum…inside.”
Oh-so-dumbified that you didn’t even realize Toji was already finishing himself off on your dripping wet cunt until he’s guiding one of your hands to feel your driveling pussy. Letting that saccharine white sap slip allll the way between your digits and wad up.
Nodding, your eyes just kept on criss-crossing after every knot of seed that bundled up near your cervix. Sloshing like waves against your womb-
“Oh look.” He’s manhandling your own hand to tease and sluuuurp down your overstuffed slit, pushin’ back in the knots of creamy white that leaked out. “Even she agrees- oh, aaaand you wanna know what else she’s sayin’?”
“Wh-what?”
Gruffly leaning in closer, Toji’s skin was so burning hot against yours that you feel your slam-impacted flesh break out in a fresh layer of perspiration. “She says it’s gonna be a girl.”
It was unsteady, animalistic the way that your knight- your lover was creaming out every ounce of cum on your pussy. Squishing it past your tight hole and letting his base slather in such a thick ivory ring, you whine. “O-oh, fuck, m’so sensitive, To- ah!”
But he wasn’t letting go of you that easily.
Fuck how electric skitters of your orgasm left your legs thrashing weakly, oh-so-overstimulated.
Toji hisses at the springy recoil of his knobbled tip against the entrance to your womb, rugged fingers dragging you back-
“How about…” Pressing down, your pretty bulge wasn’t simply filled with his cock anymore. It was jiggling around with the inflation of his masses of cum. “-we make it twins?”
.
.
.
And it could have been Toji simply greedy for a second round, for a lucky third, a fourth- but the only thing you’re sure of was that his wooden bed was brokenly sagging on one side by the time early day had begun breaking through the shutters of his drafty windows. Lighting your eyes ablaze once you’re lolling your head forwards and slamming your grinding hips down onto Toji’s.
You don’t know who’s more ruined now - him or you.
Whimpering at the slight scratch of his tufted happy trail, your thighs twitch weakly at the sensation. “H-haaa- just a little more- mmm a bit more, Toji.”
He sounds utterly fucking gone as he coos up at you, eyes half-closed. “You’ve been saying that for ngh- aaaages, greedy girl.” And yet, the cracked bedframe protests when he’s bucking his hips in tandem to puncture your battered g-spot with a spank. “G-gonna milk me d-ry–”
Toji’s voice was breaking, he was whimpering.
You gasp, “Did you just-”
“Shut up.” His veiny shaft enters your hole mercilessly- and each time you thought you were used to the textured stretch of his sheer size, he always manages to surprise you. “Sh-shut up and-”
Toji can’t even tell you to take it because you were- over n’ over until his bulbous, weighty balls were all tender, and each time your hips swerved in that wiiide heart shape left him drooling. Hypnotized.
A creamy circle of cum brands on his hilt and Toji gulps, “Get pregnant.”
“That’s what we’re doing.”
“Yes- yes, I want- no. I need it.” It wasn’t just enough to have you riding him, Toji’s rutting up in half-dazed ruts until he was seeing stars. “Need you to- get- pregnant.” One hand pawing at the bulging cumflation on your tummy, the other clinging onto your hips to make you bounce. “Get pregnant get pregnant- get- pregnant.”
He wasn’t just animalistic, he was feral. Filthily streaking your walls with a wisp of pre, every slight gush only makes his slip n’ slide probe deeper.
Blinking back fucking tears when your sopping wet walls clamp down - just the tiniest bit, but he was so damn fucked-out. He’s gasping, feverish, bucking-
Only to make the fleshy tip of his crown slip out of your sloppy entrance with a loud plop!
“N-no-” Toji’s lips depart a murky pant, entire body shuddering when one of his hands clasp his ravaged n’ red cock. “No no no no- no- inside, need it i-inside.”
“O-ohhh fuck the stretchh–”
Maw dropping, voice hoarse with calling his name - if the ball hadn’t heard you before, then they sure as hell were now.
Whining, you’re cumming on Toji’s cock for the nth time in the past few hours. Well, ‘cumming’ was an understatement - you’re downright drenching him in sparkly bucketloads of your squirt.
Letting it drip down the sides of his ripped, flexible hips, showering him in a thin spray of your cloying wetness. You find it easy to use that sticky moistened texture as a way to glissade your front down his abs and ride him to insanity.
Milking Toji’s fat, bludgeoning cock until he was wrung dry.
Hitting and hitting the goopy spots inside you that clamped down on him the tightest, and yet, all his achingly hard tip could do was flinch. Jolting with a few sparks of pleasure once he’s hitting his wave of bliss. “Shit- shit, ya fucking milked me sucked me- hah- dry. Sucked me all dry.”
Cumming.
Cumming and cumming so hard that Toji half wonders whether he could cum again. The softened smooch of his ballsack makes his head feel numb, teeth grit as you just keep on riding him in slight motions repeatedly. As if you couldn’t stop anymore.
“I-I love you.” Toji breathes, voice cracked. Holding you tight against him, “I’ve always- always loved you. I’ve loved you so long that I’d tear down any world where I don’t.”
“Toji- I love you, too.”
Toji feels the scouring end of his mushroomy tip skim deeply into your womb, letting it brand its spongy circumference and stay there while he babbles. Hopelessly pussydrunk. Hopelessly in love. “Run away with me…?”
Took him long enough.
.
.
.
“My princess, I told you not ta handle heavyduty tasks when you’re-”
“And I’ve already told you, my Sir Toji, that reading a book isn’t heavyduty.”
“Just let me read it to ya.” Toji rolls his shoulders from a long day out in the field. And you’re roaming your eyes over him appreciatively, all this extra manual labor had only made your husband more naturally swole.
He trudges up to where you were sprawled out serenely across your cute cottage couch, tucked safely away in a kingdom where nobody would find you. None of your furious, heirless ex-husband, or those nosy elders.
Well, almost nobody-
“Ijichi wrote to say he’ll be visiting this week.” You’re tittering over Toji’s dramatic groan, poking his beefy biceps whilst he lays across your lap, restful. “Oh, c’mon, our daughter loves him. Speaking of- you should get her from the garden, it’s getting dark.”
Waving an airy hand, though his heart swoops as it always did when he thought of you and his little daughter, his exact carbon copy - except for that one feature, of course. “Builds immunity.”
His little family.
Including-
“I hope…” Gently, oh-so-gently as if this was a dream on the verge of shattering, Toji lays his palm across your swollen tummy. Awe striking through him at the slight movement beneath your thoroughly stretched-out stomach- and your daughter chose that exact moment to barge inside, sprinting to cuddle right on top of him.
Looking at you, and you’re finally looking back. “-our son has your eyes, too.”
A/N. Daddy’s been listening to this song and going THROUGH it- Anyways, this was supposed to be PWP what HAPPENED?
suguru loves the taste of cigarettes, but he might love the taste of your lips on his a little more.
sfw : fluff, but kinda suggestive. satoru's little sister, smoking, shotgunning, suguru talks you through it kinda, very sensual, not really proof read. slight age gap. older brother's best friend trope. kinda punk suguru if you squint. ❀ུ۪ ﾟ
the three of you sit outside on the balcony, heavy blanket thrown across the wooden slats. there’s a shoddily made charcuterie board in the middle, mostly chips and beef jerky— whatever your brother, satoru, could find at the gas station on the way home from work. oh, and a shitty bottle of liquor. the kind that makes your nose burn on the way down and gets you black out drunk in four swigs minimum.
you’re sitting across from them, floaty and warm beneath the first true spring night, listening to suguru pluck at the strings of his guitar.
you can’t take your eyes off of him, his piercings, his silky black hair that rivals those shitty adverts on tv. he’s so… pretty. so outrageously pretty.
he can surely feel your stare on him. deep amethyst flick up from his hands, the fingers that slowly strums a melody to fill the void, and settles on you. heavy, daring. for a moment, you swear you see a sultry smirk pull onto his lips. it sends heat straight up your spine, and you tear your eyes away as if you’ve been burned.
luckily, satoru doesn’t realize, rather, he’s digging through his tote bag and groaning with a heavy sigh.
“damn, i forgot to buy those sour ropes,” he shakes out the rest of the random snacks and a pack of marlboro golds, those were definitely suguru’s. “c’mon, suguru, let’s walk down to the conbini,”
“what? why do i have to go? you’re the only who likes those things,” he’s barking back, head whipping towards the white haired man.
“c’monnnn, i don’t wanna walk down there alone, it’s creepy!”
“what if your mom wakes up? how is she gonna cover when both of us are gone? we swore that we wouldn’t go any where else tonight,”
the two bicker back and forth as you reach for the unopened pack of cigarettes, inspecting them with the curiosity of a mischievous cat. you’ve never smoked before, and this is one of the first times satoru even let you joined the two of them to drink. something about how he doesn’t want his little sister to fry her brain before she even finishes up her freshman year in college.
“just go by yourself, it’s barely a 10 minute walk. i’ll stay and make sure this one doesn’t get any drunker,”
this catches your attention, an offended noise thrown at suguru as you huck a cracker at him.
satoru groans one more before standing up from his original spot, tugging his coat closer to him. a soft nudge at suguru’s thigh with a knowing look.
“don’t let her smoke. if my mom wakes up, just say i’m in the bathroom or something,” there’s something else in the lilt of his voice, something that sounds like he’s telling the both of you to behave for his 20 minute trip down to the corner store for some damn candy.
suguru and you wave him off with a promise of no funny business and wait until the sounds of his footsteps disappear behind the balcony door. the first time you two have been alone together in a very long time.
his stare returns and the feeling prickles the hair behind your neck to stand. molten amethyst that bleeds into something that feels like fervor, a quiet want. you don’t realize that he’s placed your socked feet into his lap, replacing his guitar as he strokes meaningless shapes across the smooth skin of your calf.
you take another small swig, just for confidence.
“you heard the man, i can’t let you smoke.” it’s the first thing he says to you, teasing as he reaches over to grab the pack still in your hands. it’s fresh, new, with the plastic still on it that he tears away with his teeth.
even if you wanted to, you can’t peel your gaze from him. if anything, you’re scooting closer across the blanket, forgoing all the red flags.
suguru, your brother’s best friend. the boy who used to push you all too high on the swings until you’re crying out of fear. the boy who would slide you his free lunch cookie as he’s leaving with a wink, catching the attention of all the girls in your grade. the same boy who grew out of that lanky figure into something more… broader. fuller. he kept his hair long and got his lip pierced. (that had him sleeping on your parents’ couch for a few days.) he never stopped teasing you, either.
and tonight was no exception.
your gaze betrays you, needy and curious as he cracks open the old pack, the scent of tabacco addictive and pleasing. he brings you even closer and holds the fresh sticks under your nose. they’re not as strong as you thought they’d be.
“they smell nice,” you murmur, lithe hands curling around his wrist to keep him from pulling away.
“they smell better like this, you’ll find it too bitter once they start burning,”
your eyes flick from the pack to him, glossy lips parted in a way that makes him want to groan. they would look so pretty wrapped around a cigarette— god, he’s a terrible influence.
“can i try a little bit? just some of yours,” you ask like it’s a piece of cake, not some addictive cancer stick.
he’s already digging around in his leather jacket pocket for his lighter, a shiny little white lighter that has a little heart you drew on it many months before. satoru had asked who drew on it their last smoke sesh and suguru didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was you. when you were crashing at his dorm after an argument with your parents and you drew a sweet little heart on the white plastic. lied with a smirk on his lips.
“only a little, sweet girl. he’ll kill me if you get addicted,” thin, callused fingers pluck a stick from the box and he holds it in between his lips.
you watch carefully, more attention than needed in all honesty, but you’re half way in his lap and you want to kiss at his jaw so badly that he can hear your heartbeat in your throat.
“when you first light a cigarette, you don’t just hold the flame up to the tip.” a flicker of sparks and a small flame ignites, the soft light warm between the two of you. “you breathe in, or you risk the cig dying,”
suguru’s empty hand squeezes at the soft flesh of your thigh and demostrates exactly what he was talking about. flame up to the tip of the cigarette, he breathes in deep and heavy until the tabacco begins to glow a soft orange.
the bitter scent and the smell of smoke fills the open air and you find your own breath caught. this is the scent that always clings to him, quiet on his clothes in a way that makes you savor ever gulp of air. though, this is barely the end of your lesson.
“open up.” your lips part with little coaxing and you feel the skin of his thumb brush at your cheek. a silent praise. you’re so pretty when you listen to him.
suguru blows the plume of smoke onto your awaiting tongue, letting you taste the flavor of your bittersweet demise.
you sputter, cough a little, before breaking out into some love sick sort of smile. maybe it’s the lingering alcohol in your system, or the fact you only have a few shitty crackers in your stomach, but your mind feels like it’s in a state of euphoria. every light touch he leaves on your skin, the plush of your cheek and down the length of your spine. god, you’re dizzy.
“too much, baby?” he purrs against the top of your head, chuckling at how quickly you sputter out a no. “if it’s not too much then, how about a proper drag?”
he’s holding out the cigarette against the spring wind, embers glowing bright underneath the dim light of the stars, and holds your chin as gentle as a man like him can. your lean forward first, unsure, maybe even a little nervous, tongue still burning from the smoke before, and part your lips once again.
“slowly, that’s it, sweet girl,” you breathe in under his quiet instruction, careful until your feel a small warmth linger at the back of your throat. you pull away, inhaling, only to cough out a cloud of grey. the two of you bleed into a flurry of chuckles and your eyes prickle with tears. you manage to keep your coughing to a minimum after a bit, using the sleeve of your sweater to pat away the little crystalline tears that line your waterline. ”marlboro’s are strong, ‘guru— oh,”
the two of your notice the lack of glow from the cigarette, dead from the cold wind and the lack of attention after your little fit. suguru huffs out another laugh. ”dead cigarette, you’re gonna have to revive it.”
“revive it? don’t i just re-light it?”
silvery black locks fall over amethyst eyes as he shakes his head, holding up the cigarette to your lips again. you’re still staring up at him, the lack of distance between you two more noticeable now.
“you’ll burn more, waste it. put your lips back onto it, sweetheart— yeah that’s it. now blow, instead of inhale.”
the stick struggles, the wrapper fizzling as the embers try to relight themselves with your effort. you try one more time and suguru hums with approval. it’s his turn to try as well, and after a few more tries, the cigarette glows bright once more. the two of you take turns breathing in smoke, letting it settle deep into your lungs and then dissipate beneath the fairy lights that hang from the railings of your balcony.
you like this, you love this actually. the silence that doesn’t necessarily have to be filled between you two. perched between his thighs and his thumb rubbing slow, insistent circles on your hip. something low and sensual floats between whatever space is left, and you cherish the last fleeting moments of the burning cigarette. the ash burns away until there’s just enough left for one long drag. the filter is yellow at this point, stained with your lip gloss, and suguru has half the heart to keep the butt.
just as a reminder. just as a memory of you tonight, sitting as pretty as a princess.
“baby?” he takes the last, long, long puff, inhaling the carcinogens like it was the freshest air on earth.
you look at him, properly this time, still hazy as the alcohol fizzles beneath your skin.
and his lips are on yours. perhaps he found a new addiction along side nicotine, and in his opinion? you’re gonna be a much bigger problem than a pack of cigarettes.
baker's note: i need to smoke with punk suguru who talks me though it. i actually don't really like marlboros, im used to pretty light cigs back in vietnam. i'm currently rationing a pack of these orange flavored chinese marlboros though. <3
