Working hard gets him hard
᭡୧ c/w: NSFW, Perverted Toji, Masturbation, Stealing of clothes, overworked!reader and underfucked!reader, lovesick!Toji, Toji x reader, Husband!Toji
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Tired is the only word that can describe your current state. It has to be a world record from the amount of force you used to not commit first degree murder these past few days. But somehow, every day gets worse than the last like the gods are out to get you personally. Last night, you barely got any hours of sleep, hyperventilating for a unfinished presentation at work and clients who would wait extra because you couldn't manage your damn time. Running on ground coffee beans and a dream. You slumped out of bed like a sloth, sprinting around every corner of your house to find your damn blouse that likes to play hide n' seek a bit too well while your layabout husband toji, eyes flickered to your hurried form dashing across the kitchen.
And that hide n' seek champion of blouse? Dirty and grubby in the depths of the hamper of overflowing musky clothes you could've swore you told toji to put in the wash for the third time this week already.
Great. Mismatch blouse and cardigan, empty stomach, no makeup, running late, your hair managing to be too tight and too loose at the same time and gosh does your nose always look like that or is your mind just playing games with you??
"You look rough, rough" A swig of bitter coffee travels down toji's throat with a glup. "Well thank you for stating the obvious babe, preciate it." You muster sarcastically under your breath as you try to find a way to eat burn toast and brush your teeth simultaneously. Followed by the freeloader's chuckle and a rough click of his tongue, by some means, he read the room to not add anything else about your untidy appearance.
You holler a goodbye to toji by the front door overboarded and crowed with shoes scattered around like they're hosting their own cheap concert, which he replies with burp and and a love you back. You could see your overworking brain from how far you rolled your eyes back.
As soon as you slammed the door shut with a bit too much strength, toji double-checked your set-off before bolting straight to your shared bedroom. Being a stay at home husband had it's perks and pros, hiding behind a tough guy act in front of you to keep his pride inflating but the moment you past your pretty feet behind the front door, oh he's a obsessed creep over you and you don't even know it.
His body move before his mind catches up, scanning his eyes everywhere in the room to find any fabric with your musk like a madman. Then, he spots it, the familiar lacey black panties he had imprinted in his memory peeking out of the overflowing dirty clothes hamper in the corner of the room. A cheetah would be jealous by the speed he uses to march across the bedroom to lace the unwashed undies between his fingers and sit down at the edge of the unmade bed.
The fact was, these past few days have been harsh for him too. No touching you from the fear of you lashing out at him that you're too stressed to do anything and the common decency of taking a look at your condition was enough to keep his hands to himself. He's taken the liberty of scrounging around in your dirty clothes, snatching up anything that's got your musk all over it, drooling and rubbing his weeping cock all over any fabric he can get his hands on when you're not there. Toji slides his tongue across his bottom lip like a beast just thinking about how tired and angry you looked this morning, and every morning before.
It wasn't his fault you looking angry was making his dick think it was Christmas. He fumbles with the flimsy fabric before bringing it up to his mouth to lick a long stride up where a clear stain dried up. Gnawing on your panties, soaking the crotch of the fabric that held the sweet, sweet nectar he so very wishes he could swallow direct from the source.
He brushes the tip of his nose against fluid stain melting from his saliva. Pressing the apex of his tongue against the seam of the undies, where your clit would've been if you were here and not handling paper at your office. The thought vivid enough to make him groan out loud.
"Why you gotta be so fucking pretty" He spits out in shame at himself. When did he ever turn this desperate? "Got me fucking your clothes, who the hell am i?" The humiliation in his voice clear as day, almost as clear at the blood rushing down south and the flush creeping up on his cheeks.
He plays with his waistband, lapping his tongue against the fabric that smelled so, so you. With a final tug at his sweats to free himself, his cock hits his stomach, precum already oozing out of his mushy tip. Veins upon veins traveling down his shaft and ending right where he curves sideways, to the right. He's too enveloped in his thoughts to feel a speck of embarrassment coursing through his veins.
One hand hauls the fabric deeper in his mouth like that would make the flavor more present while the other wraps around his girth. He's not his usual tough guy self when you're not around. He moans, loud, shaky, shameless, as he sets a agonizingly fast pace. Hand working his cock with the desperation of a guy who hasn't had the privilege to touch his wife. "Fuck.. fuck, feel s'good—" His groan got cut off by a choke of air, making himself remember to breathe. Thick Thighs shift open, helping himself fuck into his fist ruthlessly.
He sucks the rickety fabric once more, the idea was that he had your cunt in his mouth instead of these insufficient panties. Eyes falling shut, hair sticking to his forehead, and sweat sliding down his temples. His meaty thighs spread open enough for his hips to rut in his hand. Your name falls from his stuffed mouth like a prayer, barely a mumble, the panties acting like almost a muzzle.
"Fuckkk!— If only you were h-here wifeyyy!" He sputters out, dragging the word "wifey" like that would make you come back home. He was aware of how dumb and pathetic he sounded, but all thought had evaporate from the moment you left. His mind, now, filled with images of you. You're heavy expression when you came back from work and all you could do was lay down. Or when your hips swayed weakly when you walked from holding yourself up after a longgg day. Or gosh— when your thighs trembled against the counter while you made dinner for his ass despite your fatigue. Knowing he couldn't wrap those pretty thighs around his head, he'd just hug you from behind to at least hold you up a bit.
The closer he got, the slower his pace got. He could already feel his shoulders shake and his throat growing dry. Like slowness would help his approach orgasm stop dead in its tracks, which did the opposite, the slower he pumped into his fist the faster he was gonna burst. "S'hit!.. hold it in." He mutters weakly to himself, the panties still shoved deep in his mouth and the slick dancing on his tongue.
It was like a war with himself that just drove him mad, but as soon as he felt his thighs sputter, his balls drawing up tighter and his cock twitching uncontrollably in his hand he was pretending was yours. He already knew already he lost the battle.
He came so hard he saw stars, his vision blurring with white edges at the corner of his eyes. Stringy ropes of his semen all over his stomach and shaky hand as he takes a second to breathe. He rips the maddening piece of fabric out of his mouth and stares at the mess he made between his legs. Cleaning it up was going to be a pain, so, he sighs and his back hits the mattress. Looking up at the dry ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe. And a frail, barely audible mumble bubbles in his throat just for himself to hear. "Mhh.. I miss you.."
Because if he has to wait for things to get stable again, for you, well shall he wait even if it takes forever.
Even if he has to take care of himself in the abyss of the bedroom or control his hands.
Because at the end, you matter more than your body to him.
᭡୧ A/N: I took this idea from the trope of roommate!choso but made it as Toji instead. It's currently 5 am and I have to get up at 7 am, mind you I have 2 exams today.
Thank you for readingg, love youu.
