"Fushiguro, that's your girl?" One of Toji's block mates asks, eyeing one of the many pictures Toji had of you taped to the slate gray brick wall. It was a simple picture, your hair was wavy in this one, a cute dimply smile, lashes curled as you looked all natural. But god, were you still stunning. Toji looks up from the thing he was doing, sitting in the steel chair that was bolted down to the floor.
"Yup, that's my ol' lady," looking up at the picture he can't help but proudly smile. Toji's wall is covered in pictures. Of you, of Megumi. The whole family. Cute pictures you took with each other before he got locked up. It was his motivation to stay straight while being inside. To remind him of what's waiting for him when he gets out.
The block mate lets out a low whistle, nodding approvingly as he leans back against the cold wall. “Damn. She bad.” His celly's eyes roam over the pictures. Ones where you're dressed up all pretty, makeup done perfectly. Ones where you're wrapped around one of Toji's arms, looking up at him with all the adoration in the world. Even the ones that show just a little too much, which Toji keeps right next to where he lays his head.
Toji chuckles, shaking his head. “Watch it.” There’s no real threat in his voice, but there’s an edge of warning that makes the other guy hold his hands up in surrender.
“Ain’t mean no disrespect, Fushiguro,” he says, still looking at the pictures. “Just sayin’. You lucky.”
Toji doesn’t need to be told that. He already knows. It’s what gets him through the long nights, the endless hum of fluorescent lights, the hostility of the barbed wire that separates him from the outside. Knowing you're out there, waiting, is the only thing that keeps him from losing his damn mind.
He leans back against the desk he sits in front of, arms folding across his broad chest, eyes fixed on the pictures. His ol’ lady. His girl. His anchor in a life that never gave him much stability.
A slow smirk tugs at his lips. He can still hear your voice, that soft, teasing lilt whenever you’d call him by his full name just to mess with him. “Toji Fushiguro,” you’d say, dragging it out, pretending to scold him, even though your eyes always gave you away. He lived for those moments.
“Bet she writin’ you, huh?” the block mate asks. “You get letters?”
Toji nods. “Every week.” And he does. Neatly folded pages that smell like you, inked with words that remind him that he’s still human. That he’s still yours. That he still has something waiting for him beyond these walls. But god, does he miss you.
“Damn,” the block mate mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Every week? That’s real love right there.”
Toji just smirks again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, edges worn from being opened and closed too many times. He doesn’t even need to read it again—he’s already memorized every damn word—but still, he unfolds it, running a calloused thumb over the handwriting. Your handwriting.
Hey, baby.
I know you hate when I get all mushy, but I don’t care. I miss you. I miss you so much it drives me crazy sometimes. But I’ll wait. However long it takes, I’ll wait. You better be eating, staying out of trouble, and keeping that smart-ass mouth in check. (Okay, maybe not too much. You know I love that about you.)
Toji chuckles to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, you knew him too damn well.
Megumi misses you too, even if he acts all tough about it. You should’ve seen his face when I told him your letter came. He’s just like you, y’know? Won’t say how he really feels, but it’s all there in his eyes.
Toji swallows hard, jaw clenching. Megumi. His kid. Another reason for pushing through this hellhole. He pictures him—too serious for his own good, but with those same sharp blue eyes. His boy.
“Yo, Fushiguro,” another voice calls out, snapping him from his thoughts. One of the guards. “Mail just came in.”
Toji is already up before the guy even finishes his sentence, heart pounding just a little faster. The guard hands the baby pink envelope with a lazy flick of the wrist, and Toji snatches it up quick, already recognizing the familiar scrawl of his name across the front.
His block mate lets out a laugh. “Man, look at you. Actin’ like a kid on Christmas.” Toji was always stoic, kept to himself and never showed much emotion. But hey, you always brought it out of him and he wasn't gonna front or hold a facade when it came to how he felt about you.
Toji doesn’t respond. He just sits back down, thumbs sliding under the flap of the envelope, tearing it open like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing in this godforsaken place. The first thing that falls out is a polaroid. His breath catches. It’s you.
You're sitting by a window, sunlight spilling over your skin, that soft, gentle smile on your lips. His girl. His sweetheart. Looking at him like she sees something in him that even he has trouble believing in sometimes. And just like that, the walls of the prison don’t feel so damn suffocating. He’s got something to hold onto.
Toji runs a thumb over the polaroid, like he could somehow feel you through it. The picture is warm, soft, a stark contrast to the cold steel and concrete around him. He exhales through his nose, staring at it for a long moment before finally unfolding the letter.
Your words hit him like they always do—gentle, teasing, but full of something deeper. Something that reminds him why he’s still holding on.
Hey, baby.
I hope you’re not making the guards’ lives too hard. (Who am I kidding? I know you are.) It’s been getting colder here. I keep stealing your hoodie, the one you always say is yours but smells like me now. Tough luck, Fushiguro, it’s mine until you come back and take it from me.
Toji smirks, shaking his head. She’s gonna pay for that one.
Megumi’s been doing good in school, but I had to threaten to ground him just to get him to eat something other than instant ramen. He’s stubborn, just like his old man.
His smirk fades a little. He can picture it—Megumi sitting at the dinner table, arms crossed, trying to act like he doesn’t care. Just like Toji used to. The guilt settles in his chest, heavy and unshakable. He just wishes he could be there. For the both of you.
We miss you. I miss you.
He stops, lingering on that line. Simple, but enough to send a slow ache through his ribs.
I don’t care how long it takes. You come back to me, Toji. We’re waiting.
Toji exhales sharply, pressing the paper between his fingers, his grip a little too tight.
“Damn,” his block mate mutters, watching him. “She really ridin’ for you, huh?”
Toji just nods. He doesn’t need to say anything. He folds the letter carefully, tucking it away with the others. Getting up, he sticks some tape of the back of the polaroid, putting it up next to the rest of the pictures. Then he leans back in his chair, looking up at the mosaic of pictures you send him.
Yeah. She’s waiting. And he sure as hell isn’t gonna let her down.
Toji's been locked up for too long and misses his pretty girl deeply.
Was listening to Kiss Me Thru The Phone by Soulja Boy, which was always my go to song for my irl jailbird cougarrrr. But Toji is better so it's his song now c;
This is a collect call from Tokyo Correctional Facility from
"Toji Fushiguro," his voice raspy and nonchalant as always, a stark contrast to the excitement bubbling inside you.
If you accept the charges, please press 1.
Like second nature you instantly press one. 'This phone call will be recorded and subject to monitoring...' the autonomous voice instructs. The line clicks, a soft trill signaling the connection, and then a faint beeping tone echoes through your receiver. Your heart pounds in anticipation, your grip on the phone tightening as the line goes silent for just a beat too long. A beeping tone goes off, and your heart beats heavily.
"Hey princess," Toji's voice, low and gravelly, rolls through the phone. A smile instantaneously forms on your face, it's been a while since you had spoken to Toji on the phone. His ass was always getting thrown into ad seg for one reason or another.
"Hi baby," your voice is soft and sweet, and Toji feels his heart swelling as he finally hears your voice in what feels like forever. No matter how hardened life makes him, hearing your voice always makes him melt.
“Damn, it’s good to hear you,” he mutters, his tone a little softer now. "They threw my ass in the hole cause some fuckface wanted to try and take the box of Honeybuns from the package you sent me last week."
"Of course they did," you reply with a light laugh, shaking your head. "You can't go a month without stirring up trouble, can you?"
"It's not my fault," Toji defends, the familiar cockiness in his voice making your stomach flutter. "You send me the good shit, princess. You think I'm gonna let some punk get his hands on my Honeybuns?"
You bite your lip to suppress a giggle, imagining him in his element, standing tall and intimidating, defending your care package like his life depended on it. "Well, at least now I know how much you appreciate my efforts."
"Appreciate?" Toji scoffs playfully. "Baby, I worship the ground you walk on for those packages. You should see these guys. They're practically drooling over the stuff you send me. It’s like I’m a king in here."
"Aweee babyyyy," you coo, biting your lip as your cheeks heat up. Toji always knew just what to say to make you feel giddy like a young girl in love for the first time. "Just for that I'll send you something extra special next week."
Toji lets out a low chuckle, the sound deep and raspy, sending a warm shiver down your spine. "You’re too good to me, princess. You’ve got me spoiled," he says, and though his tone is teasing, there’s a genuine softness beneath his words.
"Someone’s gotta take care of you," you reply, your voice playful but full of affection. "You’re lucky I love you enough to deal with all this drama."
"Lucky doesn’t even cover it," Toji mutters, his voice dropping an octave. "I don’t deserve you, but I’m not letting you go. Ever."
Your heart skips a beat at his words, the weight of his sincerity making your chest tighten. "You don’t have to," you whisper. "I’m not going anywhere, Toji."
"Good," he says firmly, the possessiveness in his tone sending a rush of heat through you. "Cause when I get out of here, you’re mine. Completely. No one else gets a second of your time."
"You already have me," you say softly, the vulnerability in your voice making him pause.
"I know," he murmurs after a moment, his tone unusually tender. "And that’s the only thing keeping me sane in this place. Knowing I’ve got you waiting for me on the other side."
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let the sadness take over. "I’ll always be here, baby. No matter how long it takes."
"Enough about me though," he tries to change the subject, hearing the vulnerability in your voice. He hates knowing you're missing him like that, especially when he can't do anything about it. "How’s my pretty girl?” he asks, his voice dropping to that lower, huskier tone that always makes your stomach flutter.
“I’m okay,” you reply, leaning back against the couch as you let yourself sink into his voice. “But I’d be better if you were here.”
A low chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Trust me, princess, I’d do anything to be there with you right now.” Toji looks around his surroundings, the dreary cement walls and identical cell doors that go on and on. He leans against the divider that separates all the phones, metal phone wire feeling cool against his arm. It's late at night, most of the prisoners already in their cells asleep. Toji was lucky enough to know someone on the inside, getting the privilege to have late night calls with you, getting as much privacy as he could get. A single guard supervises him haphazardly.
The thought of him—of his rough hands on your skin, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered all the things he wanted to do to you—makes heat pool low in your belly. The distance between you feels unbearable, but his voice keeps you grounded, tethered to the connection you share.
“What are you wearing?” he asks suddenly, his tone playful but suggestive.
“Toji,” you laugh, your cheeks flushing. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m serious,” he replies, his voice darkening with desire. “I need a little something to keep me going while I’m stuck in here.”
You glance down at your oversized t-shirt, wearing nothing but that and some panties. biting your lip as a grin creeps onto your face. “Nothing special,” you tease. “Just your t-shirt, the one I stole from you.”
"Just my shirt? Nothing else?" He clears his throat with a grunt, looking around to make sure nobody else could hear. Although let's face it, he wouldn't care regardless.
"Mmm that and some panties of course. Like I always wear to bed," you respond, playing with the hem of your shirt mindlessly. The shirt itself wafted of Toji's musky scent, piney with a dash of smoke and a hint of jasmine.
"What panties?" Toji tries to imagine you, all pretty and barefaced, ready for bed in one of his shirts that swallow your frame. No bra, the outline of your nipples showing through the soft fabric. The bottom of your ass poking out from under his shirt.
"The frilly lacy baby pink pair you got me from Victoria's Secret," pulling up your shirt just enough to see the panties you wear, Toji being oh so familiar with the pair. "You know, the ones I wore when we went to that fancy Brazilian steak house, and you made me keep them on as you fucked me in the bathroom?"
He groans softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Damn, you know what that does to me, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” you reply, your voice light but filled with heat. Toji started this little game, but you could play it better.
"Fuck I miss you princess," his voice is gravelly, needy as he bites his lip.
"I miss you too baby," your lip curls into a sweet smile, words sounding like sugar.
"No, like I really miss you," Toji looks down at the scratchy sweatpants he's forced to wear, seeing the bulge he now adorns getting bigger and bigger as he paints an image of your pretty self.
"Oh?"
"Wanna help me out ma?" The raspiness of his sultry voice has you weak in the knees and you could almost perfectly picture the wolfish grin he was wearing.
"Toji I don't know..." Feeling bashful, your teeth tug at your lip as you contemplate. Sure you've mailed him pretty pictures with way to much cleavage, some in revealing outfits and "bathing suits", but never have you ever had phone sex with him while he's been locked up.
"C'mon mama, I really need you right now. Miss you so much. Miss your gorgeous face. Miss your cute smile. That pretty pussy of yours." At this point he was rock hard, erection now prominent even in those baggy sweatpants.
"Aren't you in public right now, love?" Raising an eyebrow, you try to imagine Toji as he's in a corner of the public area, standing next to one of the phones that's stuck to the wall.
"Relax princess, it's already past curfew. I got special phone privileges courtesy of Shiu. Pays to know people inside," he clicks his tongue proudly, his smirk almost audible.
"Mmm okay, if you say so baby," sinking down more into the couch, obliging with a tint of pink on your cheeks.
"That's my girl." There's a slight pause, then a rustling sound as Toji leans closer to the phone. "Now, put the phone on speaker so I can hear every little thing, okay princess?"
"Okay, Toji." Turning on speakerphone, you set the phone on the arm of the couch right next to where your head rests. So, what do you want me to do first, baby?" you ask, your voice tinged with playfulness and a hint of arousal.
Toji's chuckle is low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, for starters... tell me exactly what you're wearing."
You bite your lip, glancing down at yourself before responding, "Like I said earlier, just your old shirt and that pair of baby pink lace panties. Nothing else."
His mind was so foggy with lust and need that he had forgot he asked you that, causing that hard predicament that sits in his pants. "Oh, right. That pretty pink pair that I like to slide to the side and fuck you in."
Your breathing hitches, the heat pooling in your core at his words. Toji’s voice, low and laden with want, is enough to make your body respond instantly. You shift slightly, your thighs squeezing together as the familiar ache begins to build.
“You remember everything, don’t you?” you tease, though your voice comes out softer than you intended.
“How could I forget?” he rasps, his tone sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “You looked so fucking good in them. Still do, I bet. Are they wet yet, princess?” Toji reels his memories, thinking of your legs spread open, showing that cute little damp patch of arousal that would soak through the frilly material.
Your cheeks flush crimson, his bluntness never failing to catch you off guard. “Maybe,” you admit shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs approvingly. “Touch yourself for me, baby. I wanna hear those sweet little sounds you make when you think of me.” A hand goes into his sweats, palming himself through his boxers. It didn't bother him in the slightest that anyone could see. His perfect girl was on the line, moaning and mewling just for him and he wanted—no needed—to get off to you.
“Toji,” you breathe out, the warmth spreading through your chest and settling low in your belly. You hesitate for just a moment before letting your hand slip beneath the hem of your shirt, your fingertips brushing against the lace of your panties. “I miss you,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.
“Fuck, I miss you too,” he groans, the sound of his restraint evident in his tone. “Keep going, princess. Tell me what you’re doing.”
Your hand slips beneath the lace, your fingers dipping into the slick heat between your thighs. “I’m... I’m touching myself,” you confess, your voice trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.
“Good girl,” Toji growls, his words like a low purr that rumbles through the receiver. “You know how much I love hearing you, baby. Don’t hold back. Let me hear those pretty little moans.”
Your free hand clutches at the couch cushion as your fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. The sound of Toji’s breathing, heavy and uneven, fills your ear and fuels the fire building inside you. Closing your eyes, you imagine it's him hovering over you, fingers teasing your clit just how he always does.
“Toji,” you whimper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.
“That’s it, princess,” he encourages, his voice thick with need. “Keep saying my name. Let me know how good it feels.”
You close your eyes, letting his voice guide you as your movements grow more insistent. “I wish you were here; my fingers can't do what yours do,” you whisper, your words shaky as the pleasure builds. “I need you so bad, Toji.”
“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” he groans, the sound of rustling fabric on his end letting you know he’s just as affected as you are. “I’d do anything to have you under me right now. To feel how tight you’d squeeze me when I’m deep inside you.” His hand finally snakes its way inside his boxers, his calloused finger soothing his aching red tip. Palm wrapped around the top, squeezing it in imitation of your tight walls.
"That's all I can think about, Toji," soft, needy whimpers leave your throat, "Having my legs on your shoulders as you break me off. Hitting that one spot deep inside me that always gets me creaming on your cock." Flashbacks of Toji's large hands holding you down, fucking into you as he forces you to watch, that frothy white ring around the base of his dick forming as juice splatter from his impact.
"Yeah, princess?" Toji groans, his voice dipping even lower, roughened by his own need. "You always know how to rile me up, don’t you? Keep talking, tell me exactly how you'd want me to fuck you."
You bite your lip, the weight of his words sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. "I’d want it slow at first," your fingers circle your clit agonizingly slow. Almost torturous like Toji does. "You’d tease me," you murmur, your voice catching as your fingers dip lower. "Make me beg for it, wouldn’t you? Make me tell you how much I need it, need you."
"Fuck," Toji growls, his breathing heavy in your ear. His hand strokes himself in sync with your words, his rough palm sliding over his length as he imagines you beneath him, squirming, needy, desperate. "I’d make you wait, baby. You know I love hearing you beg for me, hearing that pretty little voice say my name."
A shaky whimper escapes your lips, the sound almost too loud in the stillness of your living room. "I’d be so wet for you," you whisper, voice trembling as your fingers circle faster, dipping between your folds to gather more of your slickness. "You wouldn’t even have to ask, Toji. I’d be ready for you the second you touched me."
"Shit," he groans, gripping himself tighter as he pictures it. "You’d be dripping down your thighs, wouldn’t you? Making a fucking mess of yourself while you wait for me to fill you up."
"Yes," you gasp, your back arching against the couch as your body reacts to his words. Your free hand clutches at the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in his scent, his voice, the memory of his touch. "I need you so bad, Toji. I need to feel you stretching me out, filling me up until I can't take it anymore."
"Dip those pretty little fingers of yours inside your pussy, princess. Imagine it's me curling them and hitting that soft spot in ya," he grunts, trying to imagine the feeling of your tiny hole enveloping his large fingers.
You let out a soft moan, obeying his request, slipping two fingers into your warmth. The wet sound fills the quiet of the room, mixing with his heavy breathing on the line.
“I... I’m doing it, Toji,” you manage between hitched breaths. “It’s not the same... I can’t stretch myself like you do.”
“Fucking hell,” he growls, his hand pumping faster now, imagining the way your body clings to him when he’s buried inside you. “Tell me how it feels, princess. I need to hear everything.”
Your cheeks flush, the embarrassment drowned out by the heat curling in your belly. “It feels... good, but not enough. I can’t reach as deep as you, baby. I need you here. I need your fingers, your cock... all of you.”
“Shit, keep talking like that, and I’m gonna cum before you do,” he groans, his voice thick with frustration and longing. His strokes become erratic, the image of you—the sounds you're making—driving him closer to the edge. “I’d have you spread out under me right now, pretty legs shaking while I fuck you open. You’d take me so well, wouldn’t you?”
“Uh huh~,” you whimper, arching into your touch, fingers moving faster as you imagine him over you, his broad shoulders, the weight of his body pressing you down. “I’d take you so good... like I always do. I’d make such a mess for you.”
“You’d be dripping all over my cock, wouldn’t you? So tight, so perfect for me,” he rasps, his voice hitching slightly as his own hand works faster. You can hear the faint rustle of fabric, the wet sound of his strokes, and it sends a thrill through you, knowing he’s as close to the edge as you are.
“Toji, I’m so close,” you whine, your voice trembling with the mounting pleasure.
“Good girl,” he groans, his tone commanding but filled with adoration. “Let it go, princess. Cum for me. I wanna hear those pretty sounds when you fall apart for me.”
His words push you over the edge, a broken cry escaping your lips as your body tenses and then releases, waves of pleasure crashing through you. Toji’s name spills from your mouth in a litany, each moan sweeter than the last.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice a low growl as he follows you over the edge, his own release ripping through him. You can hear his breaths, heavy and uneven, as he murmurs your name like a prayer.
For a moment, the two of you are silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the line and your shared breaths as you come down from the high.
“I needed that,” Toji finally mutters, his voice lighter now, the teasing edge creeping back in. "Been so pent up, jerking off to those pretty pictures you mail me like I'm a horny teenager."
You laugh softly, trying to imagine a sexually frustrated Toji hunched over your selfies trying to get himself off. “You’re insatiable, Toji.”
“For you? Always,” he replies, the warmth in his voice making your chest tighten with affection. "I miss being able to bend you over and fuck you wherever and whenever I want."
"Mmmm, I miss that too, baby," you hum, walking to the sink to wash your arousal-stained fingers. "Miss having my man with me all the time. Gets so lonely without my lover."
"I fucking love you, you know that?" Toji murmurs after a beat, his voice softer now, filled with an almost boyish sincerity.
A smile tugs at your lips, your heart swelling at his words. "I love you too, Toji," you reply, your voice tender.
The automated voice interrupts the moment, announcing that the call will end in one minute. Your chest tightens at the reminder, and you clutch the phone, wishing you could hold onto him just a little longer.
“You better be ready for me when I get out,” he says, his tone turning serious, almost possessive. “I’m not wasting a single second. First thing I’m doing is coming straight to you, and you’re not leaving my bed for days.”
"I'll be counting down the days, baby," a honeyed mewl leaves your lips, feeling light and airy still from your orgasm. "Until then... Behave yourself Toji Fushiguro."
He chuckles, the sound low and rich, and you can practically hear the grin in his voice. "No promises, princess," he teases. "But I’ll try. For you. Now before it hangs up, kiss me through the phone, baby."
Your heart squeezes at his request, the playful yet sincere edge in his voice making your chest ache with longing. Pressing the phone closer to your lips, you whisper, "Mwah," letting it carry all the tenderness you can muster.
A low hum of approval comes through the line. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear," he drawls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I’ll be dreaming about that one, princess."
The automated voice chimes in again, colder this time, signaling the end of the call in mere seconds. "I love you," you blurt out, the words rushing out like a lifeline.
"I love you more," he says firmly, the weight of his promise grounding you. "Be good for me, princess. I’ll be home before you know it."
The line clicks dead before you can respond, the abrupt silence leaving an ache in its wake. You lower the phone slowly, staring at the screen as if willing it to light up again with his name. His words replay in your head. You could hold it down for him, he'll be home before you know it.
ohhh bebecita I gotchuu c; this is something slightt inbox me 4 more
lockedup!Toji always ends his phone calls with you by asking "So... whatcha wearing right now, princess?" Which you always respond with something along the lines of "you're ridiculous... you're impossible... you're too much..." along with that sweet lil giggle he loves so much.
lockedup!Toji always begs for you to send him pretty pictures with your letters. He misses seeing that face of yours. It always makes him smile when it's a simple, cute selfie. "There's my pretty girl..." he'd say to himself as his fingers brush over it. Then he gets to a picture of you showing too much cleavage or something a little more revealing and he's likeee AWOOOGAAA 😍😍 lmfao. But forreal he shuts his cell door and needs a little him time.
lockedup!Toji is addicted to his damn Honey Buns. His favorites are the creamy curl and jelly swirl. Something about that chocolate and cream. "The middle is all creamy, it reminds me of you." His nasty self would say.
lockedup!Toji would come out of the pen being a damn chef though. Since he had to use nasty ass processed food to make prison meals, he knows exactly how to use different ingredients to make some bomb ass food. But still,,,, he wants his damn honey buns and maybe will eat a jail spread occassionally.
lockedup!Toji always loves when you use those Hello Kitty stamps on the letters you send. Ofc his favorite sanrio character is Badtz Maru. But his favorite stamps are the ones of Hello Kitty and Dear Daniel. It always reminds him of you two.
lockedup!Toji always dedicates music to you, whether he tells it to you over the phone or in his letters. He always includes one song. Wholeheartedly dedicated Kiss Me Thru The Phone to you, lmfao and Honey Bun by Kodak Black. *I have a whole ass playlist for Toji + Sweetheart i luvvv it*
lockedup!Toji begging you to marry him so you can get conjugal visits. He can't stand seeing you looking so pretty from the other side of a glass. He needs to feel you and touch you and actually be fucking inside of you.
lockedup!Toji starts thinking about his future with you a lot. He wants to start a family with you, wants kids and a white picket fence house and all that shit. So he starts writing down baby names and all that stuff. He wants another son so bad, wants to name him Malachi.
lockedup!Toji always bragging about you to everyone else. It's commissary day, where he gets the packages you send + he gets to buy whatever he wants from the commissary store with the money on his books (he has Shiu send him some hideaway money he stashed every week). But all he really cares about is the packages you send. It's all so personal, every little touch you put into it *thinking ab doing a whole drabble on this lmk bbs's* "look at what my girl sent this time." He'd say to his celly with a smirk as he holds up all the snacks and cute little notes you write.
"You wearin' that anklet I gotcha?" Toji asks, spread out on the recliner. It's only been a few hours since this little impromptu reunion (aka him actually somehow breaking out of prison to see you). You sit on the loveseat, knees bent as your back rests on the arm. Looking like a disheveled mess, hair all sex ruffled, silk slip hanging off of one shoulder. Lips all plump and swollen, glossy and red. Fuckin' perfect in Toji's eyes.
"Uh huh," you stick your pedicured foot out, golden anklet dangling, the little 'TF' written in old english font making a light sound as it softly sways.
"Looks pretty on ya, knew that gold would complement your skin," he hums, grabbing your foot and kissing the top, eyes locked on yours. Your breath hitches for a quick second, you always got so enamored with Toji after he fucks you good. Still in your sex daze, your hands bunch the fabric of the silk slip, somehow growing needy again. Toji continues to look at the anklet, your foot in his grip. "White toes too? My favorite." His thumb brushes the gel polish before he kisses the tips of your toes. But oh, he doesn't stop there.
His scarred lip curls into mischievous smile as he opens his mouth, lips wrapping around a few of your toes. a soft gasp leaves your mouth, and you clutch onto your dress even tighter. Toji's gaze is intense, burning into yours, and you can't help but be drawn in by his raw, unadulterated desire. Your heart races as Toji's mouth closes around your toes, the sensation both strange and exhilarating. You can't help but arch your back slightly, a soft moan escaping your lips.
A deep, satisfied groan rumbles from Toji’s chest as he sucks lightly on your toes, his tongue flicking against the pads before he pulls back with a wet pop. His grip tightens around your ankle, holding you in place as he smirks up at you, watching the way your thighs press together, your lip caught between your teeth.
"What?" His voice is low, teasing. "Too much?" You shake your head, swallowing hard, but your breath is uneven, your body already responding. His thumb strokes over your ankle, grazing the delicate chain, and his smirk widens. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."
Slowly, he drags his lips along the curve of your foot, kissing up your ankle, your shin, taking his sweet time as he watches you squirm. You hate how easily he gets to you, how even the softest touch makes heat pool low in your belly. He knows exactly what he’s doing—knows how to wind you up, how to keep you right on the edge. It pisses you off, really.
You exhale shakily. "You’re so—"
"So what?" Toji murmurs, pressing a kiss to your knee before running his hands up your thighs, spreading them just slightly as he inches closer. "Good to you? Thought you knew that already, baby." He chuckles as he makes that oh so true assumption.
Your nails dig into the fabric of your slip, anticipation making your heart pound against your ribs. "You’re ridiculous," you mutter, cheeks burning red.
Toji chuckles, dark and low, as his hands slide higher. "And yet you still let me do whatever I want with you." His lips ghost over your inner thigh, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. "Ain’t that right?" You bite your lip, nodding without thinking.
"Good girl." His voice is pure satisfaction before he pulls you closer, eyes gleaming with something wicked. "Now, lemme really show you how much I missed you."
Toji’s hands grip your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow, lazy circles into your skin. He’s settled between your legs now, still lounging back like he’s got all the time in the world, like he didn’t just break out of prison to see you. The smug bastard knows exactly what he’s doing, keeping his touch featherlight, dragging out the moment until you’re squirming beneath his gaze.
"T-Toji—" Your breath catches as he kisses the inside of your thigh, lips soft against your overheated skin. He knows just where to kiss, which spots are the most sensitive. Where his open mouthed kisses should be placed precisely that will make you whimper.
"Mm?" He hums, acting like he doesn’t notice the way your fingers twitch against the silk of your slip, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you sane. "What’s wrong, baby? You gettin’ needy on me again?" You glare at him, but it’s weak, and he knows it.
Toji grins, his scarred lip curling up as he presses another kiss, a little higher this time. "Didn’t I just take care of you, huh? Thought that’d be enough to hold you over, but look at you." His hands squeeze your plush thighs, making heat pool in your stomach. "Lookin’ all pretty and desperate again."
You hate how much his teasing affects you, how easily he has you melting under his touch, wrapped around his finger. "You’re so—"
"So good to you?" He finishes for you once again like he wants you to say it, grinning when you huff out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, I know, baby. Ain’t my fault you got no self control when it comes to me."
You open your mouth to argue, but the second you do, his hands tighten, and he pulls you forward, dragging you to the edge of the loveseat with a yelp. Before you can protest, he tugs your legs over his shoulders, his smirk widening as you gasp.
"Relax," he murmurs, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs. "I got you, baby. I always got you, right?"
Your heart pounds as his mouth gets closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Toji—"
"Shh," he soothes, pressing a lingering kiss over the anklet, right where his initials rest against your skin. "Gonna take my time with you, princess."
Toji’s grip is firm as he spreads your thighs wider, his hands rough against your soft skin. His breath fans over your already soaked panties, making your stomach clench in anticipation. He watches you, dark eyes gleaming, eating up every little twitch, every shaky breath you take. Ohhh how he missed this. How he missed you.
"Fuck, baby." His thumb brushes over the damp fabric, feeling the heat radiating from you. Pulling his thumb back, it's sticky with your arousal, which he licks off with a swipe of his tongue. "You're drippin’ already? Thought you said I was ridiculous—but look at you." He tuts, pressing a teasing kiss right where you need him most, making your hips jerk. Fuckin' tease. "You miss me that bad?"
"Toji—" Your voice is almost a whine, hands gripping the arm of the loveseat like it’ll stop the way your body responds to him so easily. But it’s useless. You always fall apart for him.
He chuckles, low and dark, fingers hooking into the thin fabric of your panties before tugging them down slowly, deliberately, letting the cool air graze over your bare skin. He groans at the sight of you, licking his lips. "Shit, baby. Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen."
Before you can respond, his mouth is on you. A sharp gasp rips from your lips as his tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first, teasing, just to watch you squirm. But Toji’s never been a patient man, and he wants you to come undone. His tongue moves expertly, with a distinct precision because he always knows exactly what he's doing, switching between broad strokes and tight circles, sucking at just the right moments. He knows your body best, knows just what to do to make you unravel. The obscene sounds of his mouth working against you only make it worse—make you needier.
"Fuck, Toji—" You arch, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in his dark strands, tugging. He groans at that, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you. Your sweet as candy voice always made him melt, made his heartstrings tug.
"That’s it, baby," he rasps between licks, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Pull my hair, ride my fuckin’ face. I want you to. I know you want to too."
You don’t need to be told twice. Your hips move on their own, grinding against his tongue as he groans, eating you like a starved man. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you exactly where he wants you, dragging you even closer, like he can’t get enough. Guiding your hips, helping you fuck his face.
"T-Toji, I—" You feel the pressure building, that tight coil in your stomach about to snap. He knows it, too. He can feel it in the way your thighs shake, in the way your fingers grip his hair even tighter. Your heel digs into his back, forcing his face into your coochie, basically having him in a headlock.
"C’mon, baby," he coaxes, voice rough with his own need. "Gimme what I want. Let me taste you."
It’s the filthy desperation in his voice that sends you over the edge. Your body tenses before shattering, pleasure rolling through you in waves as Toji keeps going, licking and sucking you through it, groaning against you as he drinks it all in. When you finally go limp, breathless and trembling, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, chin glistening with your slickness, smirking like he just won the fucking lottery.
"Told you, baby," he murmurs, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated clit, making you whimper, your hips bucking. "I always take care of what’s mine."
Toji’s fingers trail over your trembling thighs, lazy and possessive, as you struggle to catch your breath. He’s still between your legs, lips glistening, gaze locked onto you like he’s debating whether to ruin you all over again. But his eyes drop lower—to your ankle, where that delicate gold chain rests against your skin, his initials catching in the dim light.
A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his lips. "Knew that anklet would look good on you," he murmurs, fingers tracing over it, letting the tiny ‘TF’ pendant sway against your skin. "Y’know why I got this for you, huh doll?"
You swallow hard, body still buzzing from your orgasm, but Toji doesn’t like being ignored. His fingers slide up your calf, grip tightening just enough to make you focus.
"I asked you a question, princess."
"Toji..." Your voice is soft, breathless, and he loves it.
"C’mon," he coaxes, tilting his head, fingers playing with the charm. "Why do you think I put my name right there? Hmm?" His thumb presses against the anklet, dragging over your skin. Even an innocent touch like that has you tingling in all the right places, Like anything he does to you gives you that pleasure. "Right on this pretty lil’ ankle? You know what it means, don’tcha?"
Butterflies form inside your stomach at the implication, heat rushing through your veins. He watches the realization dawn on your face, the way you shift beneath his intense gaze, biting your lip.
"Say it," he urges, voice dipping into something darker, hungrier. You hesitate, and that will not do.
With a deep chuckle, Toji moves fast—grabbing your ankle, lifting your leg up over his shoulder, your body stretched out beneath him. His free hand slides up your thigh, his grip firm, possessive. The weight of him, the heat of him, makes your head spin.
"This lil’ thing?" He flicks the charm, letting it dangle. "It means you’re mine, baby. My girl. My name right here, sittin’ pretty on your ankle—so everyone knows exactly who the fuck you belong to."
You shudder, something needy stirring deep inside you. Toji always had a way of branding you without even trying. His touch, his voice, the way he owned every piece of you without question.
"You like that, huh?" His smirk widens as he leans in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses up your calf, stopping right where the anklet rests. "Bet you think about me every time you see it. Every time you feel it brush against your skin." He kisses the charm, tongue flicking against the cool metal before his teeth scrape over it. Your breath stutters.
"T-Toji—"
"Mmm, that’s right, baby," he groans against your skin, his grip tightening. "Go on, say it. Say who you belong to."
You hesitate, brain still hazy, but then he bites just below your anklet, just enough to make you gasp—just enough to send a shock of pleasure straight to your core.
"Toji—fuck! I—"
"Yeah, you do, baby," he rasps, hot and breathy against your skin. "Say it."
Your nails dig into the cushions, your body on fire, already craving more. "I’m yours, Toji."
He lets out a dark, satisfied chuckle, teeth grazing your ankle one last time before he shifts, pressing you deeper into the loveseat, his weight heavy, suffocating in the best way.
"Damn right you are," he mutters, lips trailing down your neck, hands spreading your thighs again as he fits himself in the gap. "And now I’m gonna make sure you never forget it."
With two fingers he grabs the leftover slickness that was still coating your sex, and he uses it to lube up his cock like the sick man he is. You didn't even notice that he had pulled it out, only seeing as he pumps himself a few times. With a little plaat! he slaps your clit with his heavy length, making you jolt, your puffy clit still trying to recover from the overstimulation.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, watching the way you react to him. "So fuckin’ sensitive for me. You want it, huh?" His cock drags through your folds, the thick head nudging your entrance, teasing. "Say it."
Your breath hitches, hands gripping at his arms, nails digging into the muscle. "I want it, Toji. Please."
His smirk deepens, enjoying the desperation in your voice. "That’s my good girl." And with one slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he sinks into you, stretching you open inch by inch, making sure you feel every bit of him.
A strangled moan rips from your throat as he bottoms out, your walls fluttering around him. "Shit, baby. Always so tight for me," he grits out, eyes locked onto yours, watching the way your face contorts with pleasure.
He stills for a second, letting you adjust, but the way your body clenches around him has his control hanging by a thread. "You okay, princess?"
You nod frantically, fingers digging into his biceps. "Move, Toji. Please." Even through your hazy overstimulation, you were still such a needy needy girl for him.
That’s all he needs. His hips pull back before slamming forward, setting a deep, brutal pace that has your back arching off the loveseat. Each thrust pushes you further into the cushions, the force of it making your anklet jingle softly, like a taunting reminder of who you belong to.
"Listen to that," he rasps, his hand gripping your ankle again, lifting your leg higher. "That sound, baby—know what it means? Means I own this fuckin’ pussy." He looks at the anklet that is now next to his head, he smirks, "And this means I own you. Told ya this would be dangling over my shoulder soon." He flicks the charm in a cocky almost patronizing way, letting it sway back and forth, back and forth.
Your moans come faster, broken, desperate, and Toji eats it up, his pace only growing rougher. "Fuck, you take me so good," he groans, watching the way your body welcomes him, your slick coating his cock, making it easier for him to drive deeper. "No one else can have you like this. Only me. Say it."
"Only you, Toji!" You cry out, body trembling, nails raking down his back. Bottom lip jutted out, the cutest of needy pouts on your face. It makes Toji smile for a second, not smirk but smile. Even so fucked out you looked so cute. But then the way your walls squeeze around his thickness makes him go feral once more.
"That’s right, baby," he growls, leaning down, his lips ghosting over yours. "Mine. No matter what, no matter where I'm at. It's only mine." Your stomach clenches at his words, the possessiveness in his voice making your head spin. You barely manage a nod, overwhelmed by the way he’s filling you, owning you completely.
His lips crash into yours, swallowing your whimpers as he thrusts into you with deep, deliberate strokes. His grip on your ankle tightens, pressing it against his shoulder, the anklet dangling right beside his cheek, swinging in time with each snap of his hips. Toji groans, burying himself deeper, his cock dragging along that spot that has your toes curling. This turns you into a babbling, moaning mess. Toji can't help but let out a moaned-out chuckle, proud of your undoing that he caused.
His pace is ruthless now, hands gripping your hips, pulling you into every thrust. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping, your breathy moans mixing with his low, guttural groans. The pressure in your core builds, unbearable, white-hot pleasure creeping up your spine.
"T-Toji—fuck, I—"
"I got you, baby," he grits out, sweat dripping down his temples as he keeps driving into you. "Let go. Show me who this pussy belongs to."
His fingers drop to your clit, rubbing tight, skilled circles, and that’s it—you shatter, pleasure ripping through you as you cry out his name, your body locking up before trembling beneath him.
Toji watches in awe—in that loving adoration he always does, drinking in the way your walls grip him—the way they flutter, your face twisted in pleasure—the pretty way your brow furrows and the way your eyes are glossy and glazed over, your anklet still swaying with every movement,. "Fuck, baby—gonna cum—"
He barely pulls out in time, pumping his thick length, ropes of hot cum spilling onto your stomach, your thighs. He groans your name, breath ragged, before collapsing against you, body heavy and warm.
For a moment, neither of you speak, just panting in the aftermath, bodies still buzzing. Then, Toji lifts his head, eyes flicking down to the mess he’s made of you—of your trembling thighs, the slick between them, the way his initials on that anklet stand out against your flushed skin.
A slow, satisfied smirk stretches across his lips. "Told you, baby." His fingers brush over the chain, still admiring his claim on you. "Looks even better when it’s right where it belongs."
Toji's jaw was clenched tight, eyes narrowed as he eyed down some target he didn't give two shits about. It was just another job and he desperately needed money. Rent was definitely due. From a distance Toji watched the guy, some scruffy looking fella with dirty blonde hair, enter the liquor store. He knew how this game was played—watch, wait, strike. The moment presented itself when they slipped up, moving careless like they forgot they were at war. He could see the guy through the windows, walking through the aisles and grabbing a soda before he heads to the counter near the entrance. It was now or never.
Toji, dressed in a black hoodie over his usual fitted black tee, sauntered with that usual sag in his step, gun clutched inside the band of his sweats. His eyes dart back and forth as he pulls up his hood, cautious for any witnesses or passersby. At this time of day, the streets were empty. The bell above the liquor store’s door jingled softly as Toji stepped inside, shoulders squared, gaze sharp. Dim fluorescent lighting made the store look hazy, with the stale scent of cheap booze and cigarette smoke filling the air. The cashier, a younger guy with tired eyes, barely looked up from his phone.
The blonde guy was at the counter now, pulling crumpled bills from his pocket. Toji had done this a thousand times before; fast, clean, no loose ends. His grip tightened around the handle of his piece, still tucked into his waistband. He took one step closer—then everything went to hell.
The guy turned at the last second, eyes widening in recognition, and Toji knew—he knew. Before Toji could even pull the trigger, the blonde swung first. The soda bottle in his hand shattered against Toji’s temple, sending shards of glass and sticky liquid dripping down his face.
Toji barely flinched.
With a grunt, he grabbed the guy by his collar and slammed him into the counter. The cashier yelled, diving under the register as Toji yanked his gun free and pressed it against the guy’s ribs at an angle.
"Stupid move," Toji muttered, more annoyed than in pain.
The guy’s breath hitched, his hands trembling and eyes blown wide with fear. Toji had done enough jobs to know when someone was about to beg. But he had no patience for it.
He pulled the trigger; the muffled pop of the silencer was the only sound before the blonde crumpled to the floor. The moment stretched, heavy, thick with something unspoken. Then... Sirens.
"Shit."
Toji turned on his heel, feet already moving before his brain fully caught up. He burst out of the liquor store and onto the street, his heart slamming against his chest. The flashing red and blue glow of patrol cars lit up in the distance, their engines roaring closer. His rushed jog had now turned into a full sprint, breaking his neck to look back every few seconds to see just how close the cops were to being on his ass.
"God, forgive me. I know I'm wrong, but please, get my ass out of this situation..." Was all he could think.
His breath came in short, sharp bursts, forehead damp with sweat as he ducked into an alleyway, vaulting over a trash bin. The sirens wailed louder. His legs burned. He knew this part—run until you can’t, then run some more. But even Toji knew he couldn’t outrun the entire city. Jumping over a metal fence with practiced ease, he went back to his rushed jog. Chest heavily rising and falling with each pant of a breath, he tried to find somewhere to duck off to.
That’s when he saw her.
A girl. Standing just outside a rusted apartment door, watching him with something eerily calm in her eyes. For a split second, neither of them moved. Then she did the unthinkable. She lifted a hand. Beckoned.
"Boy, come on."
Toji hesitated. Just for a moment. Then he was moving, slipping past her and into the dimly lit apartment. She shut the door behind him, sealing him away from the chaotic mess that he had created outside. He was breathing heavily, dripping with sweat and his mind racing as he looked at the floor. When he looked up, she was staring him down, arms crossed. She looked at him in silence, studying his face for a second.
"Do you still got your pole?"
Toji glanced at the gun in his grip, then back at her. A slow, amused half smile curled on his lips.
"You already know."
The apartment was small, warm white lighting coming from one of those tall lamps that are always stationed in a corner. The faint scent of something floral lingered in the air—maybe perfume, maybe detergent. It didn’t matter. Toji wasn’t focused on that. He was focused on her. The girl stood a few feet away, arms crossed with her head tilted slightly as she looked him over. Her expression was unreadable, but she wasn’t panicking. No fear in her eyes. That alone was enough to make Toji wary.
"You gonna keep standing there bleeding on my floor, or you gonna sit your ass down?"
Toji exhaled, finally registering the sharp sting on his temple where the bottle had cracked against him. He reached up, fingers coming away sticky with half-dried blood and soda. Half of his face was covered in blood, mixing with the sweat that made his hair cling to his forehead.
"Mmcht," he muttered, finally pushing himself off the wall and walking further into the room, gun still loosely gripped in his hand. She didn’t flinch, just nodded toward the couch.
"First aid kit’s under the sink," she said casually, as if she hadn’t just pulled a total stranger off the street and let him into her home.
Toji dropped onto the couch with a grunt, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, leaving behind exhaustion and the faint buzz of leftover tension. He let his head fall back against the cushions, chest still rising and falling from the chase.
"You do this often?" he finally asked, cracking an eye open to look at her. That's when he finally took in every detail. She adorned a cut wife beater tank top, snug against her body. Toji noticed she wasn't wearing a bra either, her nipples softly protruding through the textured white fabric. He also noticed how snug the printed boxer shorts she wore were, showing off the cute shape of her booty. A gold anklet was wrapped around her left foot, and she was barefoot.
"Do what?" she replied, grabbing the kit from under the sink.
"Pick up bloody strangers off the street."
She snorted. "Only the interesting ones."
Toji huffed a quiet laugh, watching as she sat down on the coffee table in front of him, popping open the first aid kit. He could have done it himself—he wasn’t new to patching up wounds—but he let her take over, watching her carefully as she dabbed at the cut on his forehead with an alcohol pad. It immediately stung, Toji hissing and instinctively jerking back.
"Oh, don’t be a baby," she muttered, gripping his chin and forcing him still.
Bold. He liked that.
"You don’t even know what I did out there," he said, watching her through half-lidded eyes. Toji started to soak even more details about her, the way her hair fell. The feeling of her acrylic nails as they propped his chin up to look at her. The way her lips were slightly parted as she focused on cleaning up his wound. The little things.
She didn’t stop, didn’t even hesitate. "Don’t need to."
That made him pause. His whole life, people only did things for him out of fear, out of money, out of necessity. But she? She had nothing to gain. No reason to help him. And yet, here she was. Quite honestly Toji was confused, she must've had a few screws loose to have let a bleeding man who was running from the cops into her home.
"You crazy or somethin’?"
She smiled, a soft puff of air leaving her lips, "Maybe."
Silence settled between them as she continued cleaning him up, her fingers brushing against his skin, surprisingly gentle despite the sharpness in her gaze. Toji wasn’t used to softness. Not in the life he lived, not in the world he knew. And yet, here he was—sitting on a stranger’s couch, letting her clean him up like it was just another Tuesday. His body finally started to relax, the weight of the day's events sinking into his bones. The adrenaline had done its job, but now, it was slipping away, leaving behind something heavier. The warmth of the apartment felt foreign against his skin, too safe, too still.
"You got a name?" he asked, his voice rough and low.
She didn’t look up from her work, just nodding and carefully placing a bandage over the gash on his forehead. "I do."
Toji smirked at that, tilting his head slightly. "You gonna tell me?"
She finally met his gaze, lips curving just a little. "What do you need my name for, mystery man? You ain't plannin’ on stickin’ around, are you?"
Toji chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. She had a point. He didn’t even know why he was still here. He should’ve been plotting his next move, figuring out how to lay low for the next few days. And yet…
"I'd like to know the name of the person who saved my ass," he said simply. She seemed to consider that, eyes scanning his face as if deciding whether or not he was worth the answer.
"Y/N."
Toji let the name roll around in his head for a second. It suited her.
"Toji," he offered in return, looking directly into her eyes as if this were a regular meet cute. He started to think back to when he was running, praying to God. In his twisted head he started to think, this is an angel sent from God himself.
"Well, Toji, you should wash your hands of any residue or whatever then get some rest. I’d say you’re safe for now, but who knows how long that’ll last." Getting up from the coffee table, she goes to throw away the soiled cotton pads.
Toji snorts, "You always this welcoming?"
"Only when fate drops a half-dead man at my doorstep," she smiles, washing her hands in the kitchen sink, "Bathroom is down that hall to the left."
Nodding, Toji finally gets up from the couch, his body now aching from the lack of adrenaline and strain from every fucking thing. Turning on the bathroom light, he takes in his surroundings. Girly face washes and makeup. Loose hair ties and bobby pins. A gold nameplate of yours written in cursive font. Cute. His large, calloused hand pumps the foam soap, peach bellini. He continues to look around your bathroom as he lathers his hands.
That's when he starts to notice... little things. Things that didn’t quite add up.
Toji had been in plenty of women’s places before, enough to know the usual setup—perfume on the counter, a few hair products, maybe a scented candle or two. But this? This was different. The towel on the rack was damp, like it had just been used. The toothbrush in the holder wasn’t alone—there was another one. Slightly worn down, like it had been used regularly. His eyes flicked to the razor in the shower, the one next to the pink one. A man’s razor.
His jaw tightened. She lived with someone.
Toji stared at himself in the mirror, water still running, hands resting on the edges of the sink. His reflection looked like hell—hair all disheveled, bruises forming on his cheek bone where the bottle had hit him, exhaustion settling in his eyes. But his mind wasn’t on himself anymore. It was on her.
Why the hell had she helped him? Was she just reckless, or was there something more? With a slow exhale, he turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel, drying his hands. He didn’t like walking into a situation blind. He especially didn’t like walking into someone else’s mess.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he caught sight of her in the kitchen, tying her hair up as she rummaged through the fridge. The overhead light cast a warm glow on her skin, and for a split second, she looked… normal. Like this was just another night in her home.
But Toji knew better.
"You live alone?" His voice came out casual, too casual.
Glancing at him over her shoulder, the faintest smirk tugs at her lips. "Why? You worried?"
Toji didn’t answer. Just leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.
She pulled out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap before taking a slow sip. Her eyes stayed on him the entire time, like she knew exactly what he’d been thinking about in that bathroom.
"Nah," she finally said, licking a drop of water off her lip. "I don’t."
Toji’s grip on his forearm tightened.
"You expecting them back tonight?" His voice was level, but it lingered with an underlying cautiousness and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.
She tilted her head, watching him. Measuring. "No," she said after a beat, placing the bottle on the counter. "Not tonight." Toji studied her, the way she held herself, the way she wasn’t scrambling to explain or reassure. She wasn’t afraid. Not of him. Not of whatever situation she had going on.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Toji’s lips, something dark and amused settling in his gaze. "You always this reckless, or just gotta thing for strays?"
Leaning against the counter, she crossed her arms over her chest, still unfazed. "Maybe I just like a little chaos."
Toji huffed out a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his sweat damped hair. Yeah, she was crazy. Or stupid. Maybe both. But there was something about her, something that kept him from walking right out that door. His fingers absentmindedly traced over the grip of his gun before slipping it back into his waistband. Eyes flickering to her again, watching the way she swayed slightly on her feet, relaxed. Comfortable.
Like she wasn’t standing in front of a killer. Like she wasn’t fully aware of what she’d just let into her home.
"You should be more careful," he muttered, rolling his shoulders as he stepped closer, his presence taking up more space in the tiny kitchen.
She didn’t move, didn’t shrink away. Just held his gaze with that same, unreadable expression. "You gonna be the one to teach me a lesson?"
Toji’s smirk widened, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. "I don’t think you’d survive that, sweetheart."
Something flashed in her eyes—challenge, maybe amusement. "You’d be surprised what I can handle."
Toji wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion settling into his bones, some leftover adrenaline still thrumming through his veins, or just the sheer absurdity of the situation. But he found himself shaking his head with a smirk, exhaling a slow breath.
y/n moved with ease, walking past him to grab something from a drawer. Toji took the opportunity to let his eyes trail over her again, memorizing little things he hadn’t noticed before. The way her stack of gold necklaces caught the dim light, the curve of her waist, the slow, deliberate way she moved—like she had nothing to fear. Like she knew exactly who she was letting into her space.
The apartment was small, but cozy in a way that felt lived in. Not just a space, but a home. It was a foreign concept to Toji, who was used to cheap motels, dingy safe houses, and places he never intended to stay in for long. But this place—it smelled like vanilla and a hint of tobacco, had blankets thrown haphazardly over the couch, a mug half-filled with cold tea on the counter. It had warmth. A thing he didn’t deserve yet found himself sinking into.
"You wanna tell me why you were out there bleeding all over the damn sidewalk?" she asked, not looking up as she pulled out a joint and a pack of cigarettes. Flicking open the carton's top, she sticks it out to offer him one.
Toji tilted his head, amused as his fingers fish for a cigarette out of the box. "You really wanna know, or you just making conversation?"
She popped the joint between her lips, using one hand to bring a pink patterned clipper lighter up to the tip to light it. The cherry of the joint started to glow a faint red as she inhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded as she studied him through the curl of smoke.
"You don’t gotta tell me," she said, finally exhaling, "but I figure if you’re hiding out here, I should at least know if I gotta start packing a bag."
Toji gave her a lopsided grin, shaking his head. "Ain’t got nothing to do with you, sweetheart. Just a job gone messy."
Her gaze flickered to the gun still tucked at his waist, her expression once again unreadable. "Messy how?"
Toji took his time lighting his cigarette, taking a slow drag before answering. "Client wanted someone gone. I made sure they were gone." He exhaled the smoke, watching her reaction. "Problem is, someone else was watching. Cops got there quicker than expected."
She simply hummed like he’d just told her the weather. "Unlucky."
Toji huffed a laugh, smoke coming out of his nose. "Yeah, somethin’ like that."
Silence settled between them, thick but not uncomfortable. Toji leaned back against the couch, letting the weight of the day press into his bones. His temple still throbbed from the broken bottle, but the bleeding had stopped. God the things he'd do for a perc right now.
"You ain’t scared?" he finally asked, wondering how a tiny girl like her could be so nonchalant with a six-foot-two criminal sitting in her living room.
She met his gaze, something slow and knowing in her eyes. "Of you?" She let the question hang for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah."
Toji exhaled another cloud of smoke, deep blue eyes watching her closely. "Why’s that?"
She tapped the joint's ashes into her heart shaped ashtray that sat on top of the coffee table, leaning forward in the seat perpendicular to the couch, elbow resting on her thigh. "Cause if you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it already."
Toji chuckled lowly, licking his lips. "You sure about that?"
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. "Yeah," she said simply.
He stared at her for a long moment, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. She was right, of course. If he had planned to kill her, he wouldn’t have wasted time talking. Wouldn’t have let her patch him up. But there was something about her.
Knocking him out of his thoughts, the wailing of sirens blares through the air. Bright white lights flashing through the curtains of the front windows. Both of them look towards the front door, silent. Guess it was the kind of situation that called for an all-night search.
"Well, looks like you're stuck here for the night."
Toji let out a slow exhale, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he glanced toward the window. The red and blue lights cut through the thin curtains, casting eerie shadows across the walls. He should’ve felt trapped, on edge. But instead, he found himself oddly calm.
"Shit luck," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair before taking another drag of his cigarette.
She didn’t look the least bit concerned as she took another slow pull from her joint, watching him through half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, well," she exhaled a stream of smoke, "guess that means you’ll be getting real comfortable."
Toji chuckled under his breath. "Seriously though, you got a few screws loose or just got a soft spot for trouble?"
The corner of her lip quirked up as she leaned back into the chair, joint snug between her two long acrylic nails. "Wouldn’t call it soft. Just got good instincts."
Toji hummed, tilting his head. "That so?" His cigarette sat tucked between his pink lips, and she could see the sharpness in his canines as he spoke.
"Mmhmm." She tapped her ashes into the ashtray again, her gaze steady. "And my instincts tell me you’re not as reckless as you act."
That caught Toji’s attention. His smirk faltered just slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied her. Most people assumed he was all brawn, no thought behind his actions. But her? She saw something else.
"That what you think?" he mused.
She nodded. "You wouldn't have made it this far otherwise."
Toji let her words sit between them, a strange mix of amusement and curiosity stirring in his gut. She wasn’t wrong. He’d survived this long because he was careful, calculated—even when things went south. But what did that mean for right now? He should’ve been looking for an exit, planning his next move. But instead, he was still here. In her space. Letting the sirens wail outside without so much as a flinch.
She stubbed out what was left of her joint and stood, stretching her arms over her head before giving him a lazy glance. "Couch pulls out into a bed," she said. "Sheets are in the closet. I’d offer you my bed, but I don’t know you like that."
Toji let out a low chuckle. "Yeah? And yet, you let me in your house."
She shrugged, turning toward the hallway. "Like I said—good instincts."
Toji watched her disappear into the dimly lit hall, the scent of smoke and vanilla lingering in the air behind her. He exhaled, leaning his head back against the couch.
Yeah. He was stuck here for the night. And maybe… he didn’t mind.
omgeezyyyy I had so many different ways I wanted lockedup!Toji and y/n to meet I can't choose!! But I fckin love this song and I'm a sucker for sampling a song for a fic. I miiight write other versions of y/n meeting Toji but I just hadz to write this!!
alsoooo I wanna make this a multipart this is just part oneeee
