F*ck around and find out
pairing: older!toji fushiguro x afab reader
synopsis: you’re used to men who crash out over you, so trying to get a reaction out of toji is a mission. but turns out even he has his lines, and when you push them, he doesn’t get jealous. he gets strict.
mdni, expl!c!t content, implied age gap (both adults), lowkey sugar relationship, swearing, dubconish elements, dom/sub undertones, power dynamics, degradation (light), rough handling/restraint, toji’s kinda mean (😛), brat taming, object use (phone), black coded reader, mention of braided hairstyle, wc: 4.5k
a/n: i started succession and i got to the episode where he uses a girls phone as a vibe and it was TOO MFKN BUZZY 😋😋😋(badumtsss) so yeah this is heavily inspired, thank you roman roy u little freak.kinda rushed cus i was in flow state. enjoyyy ֯݁კ🎀 ྀི𓈒
Toji’s watched enough variations of this exact scene to clock the tells, even from afar.
Something about that posture that always gives the guy away; too preppy to really sell the swagger he definitely thinks he’s giving off. He’s leaning in, a little cologne ad-esque in his rehearsed suave. Impressive physique, even if it looks like it’s more for show than anything functional. He’s young too, possibly even younger than you. The type to get annoyed when someone asks for his ID.
Toji doesn’t move from his spot. He’s leaning over the glass railing on the second floor, fingers tapping idly at his phone. From here the view of the entrance to the makeup store you said you’d “only be 10 minutes” is very clear.
It’s been 20. He is bored as shit.
Now you’re stood outside, laughing. Loud
His head tilts, watching with the same mild interest he gives the TV when one of your silly reality shows is on
Oh, you’re good. Chin tipped up, wispy lashes fluttering, your body angled just enough to make a man think he’s got an in, but still make him work for it a little. And to top it all off, that sugary smile. 10/10.
He doesn’t blame the guy. It would be unreasonable to, considering you look the way you do. Most guys with eyes just react accordingly.
Now the guys reaching into his pocket and—Of course. His phone. He asks you something, something bold by the looks of it; him shifting his weight, squaring his shoulders like he’s getting ready to break into one of those bird mating dances.
You barely hesitate; you knew it was coming. You’re smiling as your thumbs work with hurried automaticity.
Toji finds his mouth quirking at the sight.
He’s not a cuck. Not even fucking close.
But he’s not stupid. Sure, you aren’t officially “his girlfriend”, not on paper. There’s no strict labels, no written expectations binding you to him except the shared understanding that neither of you have bothered to name. Technically speaking, you’re both single.
He just finds all of this... cute. Silly maybe. He knows you enjoy this. You’ll have a flirt, make them think they have a chance. Soak up the attention, wear it real pretty.
But he’s not about to march over, chest puffed out, marking his territory like some possessive boyfriend, because 1. that’s not really his style, 2. he doesn’t need to.
Call it arrogance, pride, whatever, but Toji knows he’s got nothing to worry about. Why should some hopeful idiot stress him when he already knows what position he’ll have you in later?
You hand the phone back, lips quirked as you say something quietly, probably some coy breadcrumb like ‘we’ll see,’ or ‘text me’. Then, with a flick of your braids, you’re strutting over, the guy still watching like he’s hoping you’ll turn back.
Then he must realise who you’re headed towards, because he looks directly at Toji, locking eyes for an awkward second.
His smile shrinks. His eyes flick to you, then Toji, then back to you, then to Toji for a little longer. Then he peels away like a kid who’s just been told off.
Toji shifts his weight, finally pushing off the railing as you appear in front of him swinging your bag of goodies.
“Got everything you wanted?” He asks. His hands slide into his pockets, and he leans down to peck you.
You nod, going up on your tip toes to meet him halfway.
“Mhm. Wanna see what I got?”
You’re rifling through the offensively loud bag before he even gets the chance to answer. He watches you for a second, then his curiosity wins.
“And your friend?”
There it goes. That unapologetic cheer that settles into your big brown eyes, the messy twitch in your sparkly glossy lips which confirms what Toji had already been suspecting:
You did want him to see that.
“Who? Oh— yeah! You mean Ryan,” You chirp, tone saccharine. Toji just nods, reaching out to hook a finger under one of your shopping bag handles. You definitely did get everything you wanted - two of each, if he had to guess based on how heavy it is.
“Ryan,” He repeats. The name is somehow fitting. He starts towards the elevators without checking if you’re following behind. “What did Ryan want?”
“Oh, it’s…” You’re rolling your eyes, fanning at the air. “Y’know, he was just… don’t worry.”
Toji shrugs. “M’not worried.”
And that’s all the push you needed.
“It’s nothing really,” You start again, a fraction too quickly. “Just said he’s seen me around, but he was too shy to say anything. Asked for my number, wanted to know when I’m free. Nothing crazy.”
“Oh,” Toji says. “Cool.”
You quickly fall in step beside him, already failing to hold back a grin as you peer around to catch a better look at his face.
“…What was that?”
“What was what?”
“‘Cool.” Your imitation sounds more like Patrick Star and less like Toji, but he still can’t help but chuckle.
“Alright.”
“Alright,” You echo again, before nudging his side with your elbow. “All these one word answers…. You jealous?”
He doesn’t miss a beat.
“Very,” he answers, still looking straight ahead.
You hesitate. It usually takes a little longer than this.
“…For real?”
“Oh, yeah,” He goes on, expression flat. “Cute kid. Got that whole clean-cut-pretty-boy thing going on.”
Your smile falters.
Toji keeps walking, his pace lax. “Probably makes way more than me. Bet he texts back fast. Bet his dick’s bigger too. Who knows.”
Silence. It hangs in the air for a second, before he glances over to see you already deflating.
“We get it. You’re so nonchalant,” You mutter, a slight petulance in the way you brush past him, suddenly in a hurry to get ahead of him. He lets you go. “But I know you felt a way. Even if you wanna act like you didn’t.”
He drags after you, shoulders loose, smile content. There’s no rush— you’re not going anywhere without him. His keys clink as he messes them about in his pocket.
“Is that what that was?” he asks lightly, when he catches up. “Eh? Tryna get under my skin?”
He’s noticed your pattern.
You get like this every so often, when things are too easy, or when you’re bored, or frustrated, or for no obvious reason at all.
It’s a bad habit, one some ex of yours must’ve indulged one too many times. Although , it is the kind of thing Toji might’ve gone along with when he was a younger man. Maybe it would even have turned him on a little. And it does (sometimes), but mostly? He just doesn’t get it. He suspects it might be something to do with your occasional craving to be tossed around a little, manhandled, ordered around.
But if that’s the case, you could just ask. It’d save a lot of time and headache and faff if you just asked.
You don’t answer his question. Just fold your arms and fix your hard gaze to the elevator doors like they just came to life and swore at you.
Only you could try to start something and end up catching an attitude of your own when your pride’s hurt.
He wants to laugh, wants to call you ridiculous and give you a tap on the ass for good measure, but decides instead to just ask—
“…Done talking?”
“Whatever, bro.”
And now he’s your ‘bro’. You’re adorable.
Needless to say, it’s a quiet ride down. You, standing an inch away from the doors, very deliberate in your distance. Toji leaning against the wall, tapping the railing to the muzak, watching the number tick down.
It’s only when it dings again that Toji hears you mutter something under your breath.
“Didn’t catch that.”
“I said he’s not even a student,” you say, still facing the doors. “And you’re right. He was very sweet, Toji. A real nice boy.”
You’re stubborn to the end, and the more you push, the funnier it gets.
“I’m sure,” he acquiesces, mouth twitching. “Parents raised him well.”
The doors slide open and this time he steps out first, looking at you over his shoulder to ask his ol’ reliable—
“You hungry?”
Works like a charm every time. In fact, it’s already working now, a tiny smile fighting its way through your pout. You’ll get some food in you and by the time you’re home you’ll forget anything ever happened.
Although, it’s safe to assume you would’ve forgotten anyway.
No offence to Ryan.
*****
“I fucking knew it. He doesn’t like her! Didn’t I say he never liked her?”
Toji’s non committal hum rumbles behind you. He’s not really watching (he hadn’t even heard of Love Island until you explained the concept, to which he responded ‘Sounds stupid’) but his disinterest isn’t a problem. He works better as more of a soundboard anyway.
Besides, what Toji lacks in enthusiasm for your shows, he makes up for by being your very own portable heater. All that muscle mass isn’t just good for looking at.
Your side is pressed up against his solid chest, legs tucked up in sitting fetal position. One of his arm is loosely wrapped around you, the other stretched along the back of the couch.
Your hand rests on his thigh. His on your ass. Every couple minutes he drags a thumb over the curve, absent-minded, reminding you he’s there.
“…Men are insane.” You murmur, settling more deeply into Toji, who just makes another grunt of acknowledgement. “Insane.”
Something buzzes under your leg.
Must be one of your girls; she did say she’d give you the rundown of last night after her nap. You’ll text her after the episodes done. Probably.
“Who does that? Played in her face for how many weeks just for his head to turn that quick!?”
It buzzes again, longer this time.
You roll your eyes; she’s calling.
You reach underneath you, digging for your phone. Toji doesn’t move, just keeps tracing lazy patterns into your hip.
When you finally fetch it out, your annoyance at the interruption makes you answer quickly, too quickly. By the time you register the numbers where your friends should be, it’s already connecting.
“Hello?”
There’s a brief pause— some faint background noise, from a video game or something— and then:
“Uh, hey. This is, Y/N right?” The voice sounds familiar, although a little more nervous than you think you remember.
“Um, yeah! It is,” you say. Your mouth opens to ask who you’re speaking but you catch yourself and decide against it. Too awkward.
Luckily, that’s cleared up quickly.
“It’s Ryan— from earlier?”
Oh, yeah. You did give him your real number. But for some reason it didn’t occur to you that he’d actually.. use it.
Your back straightens a little without you thinking. Simultaneously, Toji’s thumb stops. It settles into rhythm again almost immediately, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you’ve noted the pause.
He’s listening.
“Oh, yeah. Hey,” You say, level, polite. “That was fast.”
Toji lets out a little huff of amusement, though you feel it in his chest more than you hear it.
“I know,” Ryan goes on, letting out his own little laugh. He’s not actually nervous, you know this. Guys like him just put it on because they think girls like you find it cute. It sorta is. “I figured I’d just call, I’m terrible at texting. I didn’t wanna get lost in your messages or whatever, in case you’re busy.”
You look at the TV. Then at your fluffy socks. Then at nothing in particular.
“Well,” you hum. “You’re in luck. I’ve got a few minutes.”
“Cool. So uh—“ Ryan clears his throat. “Did you get to think about when you might be free?”
You tilt your head back a touch, not quite looking at Toji, but very aware. Aware of how his thumb is pressing a tiny bit firmer. Aware of his complete silence, aside from the steady exhale, inhale, from his nostrils. Aware of how you’re still curled into him, on his couch, in his place, on the phone with someone else.
You’re pushing it. More than pushing it. But why stop now?
“Mm, depends,” You play with the end of a braid, twirling it in your fingers. “What do you have in mind—“
Your phone is gone. Just gone. One minute warm in your hand, the next, vanished.
Your sentence dies halfway out of your mouth. You sit up, blinking rapidly, whipping your head around just fast enough to catch Toji’s thumb jabbing at the red button once, clean and decisive. That final tone rings, and he puts the phone down.
It all happens so quickly you’re still a little baffled when you ask—
“Wait, what the fuck?”
Toji doesn’t even look at you, let alone verbally respond. Just settles himself further into the couch, readjusting his jeans where they pull tight over his thighs.
It buzzes again.
He flips it over.
You glance at him.
Just as you’re making the decision to try and lean over to grab it, his grip tightens. It’s firm but slight, not even really enough to stop you, because you both know he can’t do that.
He can, however, make it clear that you really, really shouldn’t try it.
Another buzz. He’s still watching the TV, that standard bored expression on his sharp features. If it wasn’t for the way his thumb is pressing into you right now, you’d think he hadn’t even heard you at all.
“Thought you weren’t jealous,” You say before you can stop yourself, unable to resist that impish urge to poke the bear.
“I told you I am. Very,” He replies dryly.
You bite the inside of your lip; he’s being sarcastic again. Well, you think he is, and the slight stretch of his scar where his lip curls at its corner is only making you more sure.
It spurs something embarrassingly childish in you. Something else too, something that mixes with your annoyance and spreads and cools low over your stomach.
You huff out a breath, roll your eyes.
“Come on bro, just let me—“
Bzzzzz.
Bzzzzz.
Your eyes flick over his face, searching for something, any tiny crack in his blank stare, some kind of reaction. When his eyes slide over to meet yours finally, there’s nothing in them but quiet command.
“Watch your show.”
He punctuates it with a lazy jut of his chin towards the screen. Like you’re a kid he needs to keep entertained.
Your jaw tightens. You thrust out your palm, but Toji just scoffs at it.
“It’s my phone,” You snap, not caring that it sounds like you’re about to descend into tantrum territory. “You don’t even get to act like this. We’re not together—“
He lets out an amused breath.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I mean, it’s true! Last time I checked—“
“Y/N,” Toji cuts in calmly. Then a beat. “You know what you’re doing.” His gaze drifts to you again, heavy-lidded, unimpressed. “That’s enough. Watch your show.”
An instruction , not an invite. There’s tinge of something tight in his low croon, not yet irritation, but now that you’ve made him repeat yourself, you know that’s not far off.
For a few moments the two of you are locked in a silent contest, you calculating, trying to gauge how serious he is, if you can push any further. Him staring back, blank, decided.
Fuck it. Might as well try.
The thought barely finishes before you’re moving.
You lunge across him as fast as you can, more instinct than strategy as your hands shoots out for the phone. For a split second, you think you might actually grab it.
Until Toji gets up, and your effort is immediately thwarted.
It happens embarrassingly quickly. Before you know it, his hand is on your left wrist, and then your right, and now both arms are being held above your head.
He knows what you’ll try before you do. Smooth and efficient, one knee slides between your legs and forces your legs apart before bracing there, enough of his weight settling against your thigh to keep you locked there. He’s containing you, torso angled over you, so that the rest of the room is blocked out by his sheer bulk.
There’s nowhere to go.
You try to wriggle, tugging hard and fast, but it’s useless— his grip only tightens.
“Get off!”
“Shh,” He hushes you right away, using his free hand to swipe your phone from the chair arm.
Heat crawls from your neck to your face as you watch some vague surprise settle in his face when he looks at it, the glow of the screen making his eyes gleam.
“Oh. He’s FaceTiming now,” he murmurs. And then, slow, unnerving, he starts to smile. A small, private one, like some idea has just occurred to him and he’s way too entertained by it.
He tilts the phone at you, his large thumb hovering over the green icon.
“Toji,” you warn, because you know that look. He’s undeterred.
“Still wanna talk?”
“Don’t. Do not.”
“We should answer. He clearly wants to see you,” He says, simply.
“Toji!” Your volume flies up with your panic, still trying to pull free. “Don’t you dare pick up that call.”
“Even though you just hung up on him?Outta nowhere?” He clicks his tongue. “That’s rude.”
“Oh, fuck you!” You snap, glaring up at him. “Put it down. And let go of me. Right now or I swear to God-“
It’s his same, low, easy laugh, but given your current circumstance, it feels more mocking than usual.
“Oh yeah? You swear to God?” He drawls. “I’d better not then.”
“I’m serious!” You yell, still fruitlessly writhing to be free, twisting every which way in hopes of loosing his grip. “If you pick up that phone-“
“Relax, I said I won’t.” There’s a long pause, both of you staring the other down. And then, “What should I do instead?”
You blink at him, incredulous. “…Huh? Just hang up the fucking-“
But again, you’re rudely interrupted.
Except this time you didn’t just hear the vibration. You’re pretty sure you felt it.
An abrupt jolt of sensation spikes through you, and as it melts into a low hum of pleasure, realisation hits. You look down, and sure enough—
This sick fuck.
You weren’t imagining it.
Your phone is ringing. Between your legs. One curved edge pressed against your clothed clit.
Bzzzz.
A strangled sound pushes past your lips.
“How’s this? This what you want?”
His tone is indifferent as ever, like this is casual conversation, like his hand isn’t between wedged between your thighs. When you try to shimmy away, he chases, not breaking contact for even a second. Your back hits the couch and there’s no space left to retreat into.
Another buzz.
You just manage to swallow down a moan, but Toji doesn’t miss it. His eyes flick over your face, gaze solidifying.
“You’re fuckin’ spoiled, kid. You know that, don’t you?” He goes on. His voice begins to roll into a sort of mean snarl, the two of you noticing at the same time that you’ve stopped struggling, that your lips are parting and your spine is arching.
“I’m not,” you try to say, but it comes out a little blurred. Your half-hearted defiance earns you a second of relief when he laughs, but then it’s buzzing again. You body jerks before you can stop it.
“You really are,” He says, breezily. “I let you run around with my card whenever you want. Let you sit on my dick whenever you want. Take you out to eat, buy you all that pretty shit you like. I’m good to you. And you still have the nerve to play fucking games.”
Another buzz. Another pinch of ecstasy.
“Let— ah— go,“ You grit through clenched teeth. But he only leans in still, inescapably close. You can feel the blood pooling low in your stomach, feel your skin flushing under his cool stare.
“You like when I’m pissed off, don’t you?” His laugh is gentle, but mirthless. “That’s why you do this shit. So I can put you in your place, just like this. Is that it?”
You’re slow to respond, too flustered, too stimulated to properly form the words. Unfortunately, Toji’s patience has long run out. He turns up all dials, all at once; his fingers tightening on your wrists, bodyweight sinking heavier into you, almost crushing, the rubbery edge of your phone case pressed flush against your pulsing bud.
“Asked you a question, sweetheart.”
“F-fuck— yes,” Your reply bursts free faster than your brain even registers. It’s only when his expression darkens that you recognise just what you’re admitting to.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, just like this,” You breathe. There’s a motor running from your pussy to your brain and out through your mouth, and it’s going too fast to stop your rambling. “I like when you’re angry, Toji. Like it when you’re rough with me.”
“Mm. Thought so,” He whispers, voice rough. Then he comes in close, that you feel the hairs on your neck being fanned by his warm breath. “You wanna get fucked like a grown woman? Act like one. Open your pretty mouth and ask me nicely. Okay?”
You almost make yourself dizzy from nodding.
“You’re a big girl; no more childish shit. It’s boring.”
And with that, he lets go.
The air rushes out of your lungs in one big exhale. Your arms drop back to your sides, heavy, useless, not sure yet what to do with the freedom.
The phone slips from him his hand and bounces into your thigh. It’s only then that you notice it’s stopped ringing for some time now.
Toji presses a chaste peck to your forehead and you blink at the contact, disarmed by how soft, how brief. Then he straightens, unhurriedly rolling his shoulders back, as he looks you over slowly.
His eyes stop at your shorts.
You swallow hard; you know what he sees without looking yourself. You can just feel the moisture forming.
But he doesn’t say anything, he just scoffs quietly, then turns away.
You’re still processing what just happened. thighs pressed together without meaning to, unable to find the words to say. You just watch his back, silent, as he disappears down the hallway.
“Call your little crush. I’m in my room, when you’re done,” He says flatly, with a lazy flick of his hand over his shoulder.
A beat.
“You can come get that attention you wanted.”
*****