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lymtw · 28 days ago

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Sweetness

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

It's two in the morning when your eyes blink open from your very brief slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy as you hold them open, but it's nothing compared to the grip your strong craving for something sweet has on you. Toji's soft snores fill your ears, along with the rustling of the blanket as you flip over onto your other side to face him. You move slowly, careful not to make any disruptive movements.

Your vision is limited in the darkness of Toji's room, but the few minutes that you've been awake now has allowed your eyes to somewhat adjust. You can see how handsome he is, even while he sleeps. His lips form an involuntary pout, his dark eyelashes rest against the bags under his eyes. You don't feel as nervous to proceed with your plan of getting your early morning craving handled.

'He's not awake, he's not looking at you...' you think to yourself as you lean forward to press a light kiss on his cheek. Your heart stutters as you lean back to see if that did anything.

Nothing.

So, you go again, with less caution this time because he's in a deep sleep. You leave a few more kisses on his cheek, a couple on his chin, and then, one on the tip of his nose, before leaning back to see your progress. His quiet snoring has subsided, leaving only soft breaths to escape his nose.

You continue on with the soft butterfly kisses on his face. Your lips brush the point of his nose once more, and then you leave the ghost of a peck on his lips, before going to his cheek, again.

This time he hums, right before pulling you in and holding you like a bear protecting its cub.

"Toji," you whisper, tilting your head to try and look at him.

"Mm," he simply grunts, not opening his eyes.

"Can we go to the store?"

He sighs through his nose, a sound riddled with the sleep that held him just a couple minutes ago. "You sleep talking, baby?"

The thought makes a faint smile appear on his lips. You? Dreaming about going to the store with him? It's adorable.

"No, something sweet sounds really good right now. Like some fruit or... I don't know."

A soft hum is his initial response, before the fogginess of his sleep ridden brain clears a little more. "You can't wait a few more hours, doll? It's pretty early and you won't go back to sleep if we get you something sweet," he tries to reason.

He's right. The fact that you woke him up for this makes you feel a little guilty. "Oh... yeah. That's fine. I can wait," you mumble, ready to curl up and try to sleep off your want for something to snack on.

Now he feels guilty. You hardly ask him for anything, and though he feels strongly about you getting a consistent amount of sleep, he knows that it wouldn't kill him to let you have this.

A few seconds go by and you've settled in his arms, again. "Hey, baby," he calls, dragging his fingertips over your lower back. "Gimme a kiss." It's not a test or a way to persuade him. The delicacy of your sweet kisses is not to be taken for granted, but maybe it made him feel worse when you slowly scooted forward and met him halfway for a little peck. You didn't even hesitate to fulfill his request.

"Another one," he murmurs, allowing himself to be selfish with this seemingly endless fountain of your affection. Normally, you're hesitant or nervous, but with you being half asleep, you must not really be thinking about it. "One more," he hums, awaiting the feeling of your lips pressed on his, again. "Mm... that's good stuff, pretty baby. Always the sweetest thing for me, so I think..." he murmurs, his voice audible only between you and him, "...we should go get you something sweet, hm?"

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

He cuts you off with another chaste kiss. "I'm sure. You should wake me up like that all the time."

You laugh. "But I don't usually wake you up."

"Well, I like the way you did it just now. All kinds of soft. You wake me up like that and we can do whatever you want whenever you want."

"Okay, then," you agree.

"Put on the dress and we'll head out," he says, referring to his hoodie that you spent most of the night in before you climbed into bed with him. It looked like you were drowning in fabric and Toji was loving every minute of the view. The sleeves hid your hands, effortlessly, and the hem reached your thighs. It fit like a short dress on you.

Toji watches you after putting his shirt on, as you lift the almost heavy material over your head and pull it down, your arms not filling the sleeves once again and your shorts getting lost underneath the fabric. You pull the hood down and it sticks out behind you on its own.

"What?" You ask, in response to the smirk curled on his lips.

"You're not real," he says, stepping towards you. "You just get devoured by my hoodie." He tugs at the front a couple times, observing your face as it slowly deflates and presses against you again. "That's fucking precious."

You're speechless. Your cheeks feel like they've been scorched. You can still vividly feel the way he pulled on the front of the hoodie, gently grazing your stomach.

"I won't forget my sweater next time," you say, deflecting his affectionate words.

He sighs, heavy, pretending to be conflicted. "It'd be a shame if it just... I don't know, got lost when you thought you left it on my couch. Don't you think that would be so unfortunate, doll?"

You hum affirmatively, unable to suppress your grin at his mischievous plan.

"So, I think it's safer to leave your pretty sweaters at home and i'll keep you warm here. I'm doing a pretty good job so far, huh?" He says, letting his eyes roam over you from head to toe.

"Okay, fine," you agree, leaving the room with Toji to retrieve your shoes.

"Fine?" Toji says, entertained as he watches you float along in his enormous hoodie, towards the mat where your shoes and his shoes are. A low, amused chuckle leaves him as he slides into his slippers right beside you. "Sassy baby."

"What? I'm not sassy," you defend.

Toji loves how you look in this moment. Your tired eyes, the smallest, practically nonexistent tinge of hurt in your expression, like you can't stand the idea of being anything other than sweet to him. It's like he bopped you on the nose with a rolled up newspaper and called you a bad girl.

"Not often, but i've witnessed you in sassy mode a few times. You mimic people under your breath when they're being annoying, make a little face and everything."

You thought you were being sly, turned away from him each time you did it, too, but clearly you've underestimated how much of his attention goes to you.

"Oh," you utter, mildly embarrassed.

"It's funny," he says, reaching behind you to grab his keys from the hook they hang on. "You're still my sweet girl... even when you wake me up for snack runs." He mutters the last part, and grins when your expression goes guilty.

"We don't have to," you say, again, smiling softly to show that you really would be okay with him changing his mind and crawling back into bed.

"I'm just messing with you," he says, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "It's gonna cost you a kiss to get that door open, though."

You're tentative about the price. It's a trap. You know it, he knows it, even the walls know it.

"One kiss?" You ask, even when you see the deceit in his eyes and his sly smirk.

He nods. "Just one."

"Okay," you agree, voluntarily walking into that trap you had acknowledged.

The second you feel his arms around your waist, you know you were right. It starts out as promised, a single quick peck, but it quickly turns just as you thought it would. It's as if that single kiss activated his addiction, because one kiss turned to two, then three, until the fourth when you couldn't hold back your giddy giggles. You lean back, never really leaving the cage that is Toji, because he just leans forward and chases after more of your sweet kisses until you can't reciprocate them anymore, completely overtaken by his affectionate attack.

With a final elongated kiss, planted smack on your lips, he lets up and allows you to recompose yourself. It's one of his favorite things to do for a reason—you glow like the sun right in front of him, your unabashed laughter is fueled by something so pure and genuine. You know he's greedy with your affection, and yet you still take that chance every time he says "one kiss."

"W-Was that enough?" You tease, struggling to hold back your laugh.

"To open the door? Yeah. For me? Mm..." He smirks. "Not even close, doll."

So you do him one better, and stand on your tippy toes, a signal Toji picks up and acts on. He leans down again, doesn't cage you in this time, and waits. You close the distance between your lips and his, once more, holding it for a few seconds to ensure that your affection is properly sealed and felt by him. When those few seconds are up and your feet are flat on the ground again, you smile through the nerves. Your cheeks grow warmer as you wait for Toji to unfreeze and say something—anything.

"We're leaving, but when we come back, I want at least twenty more of those. Got it?" He says so seriously that anybody else would think he was scolding you for what you did.

"Got it," you respond, lips twitching amusedly.

"Alright, let's go," he says, nodding towards the door, feeling more motivated to get you that sweetness you craved than before.

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lymtw · 1 month ago

Note

hi!! i love your fics theyre highkey my fav rereads🤭idk if youre taking requests but if you were, could you possibly do a hurt/comfort fic with toji and shy reader where shes mad/upset with him? hope youre having a great day btw!

A/N: Five years later... 🫩👍 I'm sorry this took so long. I really, really appreciate your support 🫶 I hope this turned out at least okay, it's been a minute since i've finished any writing 🥲 Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing day :))

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

It's been a week since you and Toji have spoken, not for lack of effort or opportunities, but because the one sided attempts are not corresponded. It's hard to think about him, it's hard to read his words through your screen and see his name flash briefly, before your phone does its job of sending him to voicemail.

'Maybe we shouldn't be together, Toji. If me simply trying to talk to you is such a burden... I don't know if I should keep trying.'

You said this to him a week ago. You clicked the door shut and he sped off in his car, bleary-eyed, brimming with rage and regret the whole way home. He couldn't get the sound of your voice out of his head—the cracks, the occasional sharp inhales that came with your suppressed emotions. Even in the moment, he knew it was so, so wrong for you to be looking the way you did.

The instant he got home, all hell broke loose. His fists were clenched as he treaded towards his bedroom, and as if possessed by the force of a natural disaster, he tore apart his room—demolished it—throwing things blindly, uncaring if they broke beyond repair. The picture he keeps on his nightstand of the two of you was not safe. The encased memory was thrown with all the strength he has, at the wall, the frame instantly falling apart and the glass shattering to pieces.

He couldn't stop, it all hurt so much. His chest burned, his head was pounding, he felt like he couldn't breathe, and once there was nothing left to throw, nothing left to break, he finally broke down��wholly. Harsh, uncontrollable sobs racked his entire body as he sat there in the debris—the aftermath of losing his mind over you. Barely any sound came of it, his voice was shot, courtesy of the tormented screams that accompanied his meltdown.

This all happened a week ago. You won't talk to him and these days have been hell without your company. You won't respond to his good morning messages, and if he asks to meet up, you always have something to do. He calls you whenever he can, but you don't pick up. You're avoiding him like it's your job.

Everything feels pointless without you around, his little sunshine, the reason he wakes up motivated every morning, the light of his life. His routine has been altered in the worst way. It's work, home, work, home, and he absolutely detests it because if it weren't for that damned day, he would be with you, smothering you with the borderline overwhelming love he holds for you, making you laugh and watching you get flustered over the words he whispers in your ear. He wants it back—all of it. He can't let you go, it would break him entirely.

You don't want to let go of this love you have for Toji, either. You miss being in the warmth of his embrace, and you miss the sound of his voice, and the way he calls you 'sweetheart' when you're not focusing on him. You see every single one of the messages he sends you and the phone calls.

Good morning, baby.

Morning, sweetheart. Make sure to eat breakfast and lunch. One meal isn't enough.

Saw those fields of flowers you point at all the time on my way home. I miss you.

Baby, will you talk to me, please?

[Missed Call]

And you cry, because all you want to do is respond to every one of those messages and hear his voice again, but something always stops you. The memory of when he snapped at you. The sound of his voice—cutting and utterly spirit crushing. The furrow of his eyebrows that made you feel like everything you did was wrong. It hurts to think about the whole situation, and all these notifications only serve as reminders. Reminders of the way you immediately wilted when the door shut, chest heaving as you cried your way to bed and then to sleep, wondering what you did to deserve being lashed out at.

You're lying in bed, scrolling through your phone when he calls again. The instant you see his contact picture, your heart plummets to your stomach, but an irrepressible giggle escapes you. The picture on your screen... it's kind of blurry because he was chasing you and you were laughing so hard that you couldn't hold the phone steady, but you love it. You love the man in the picture, you love that he can make you smile through memories, even during tough times.

"Baby?" You hear through the speakers of your phone. A lump immediately forms in your throat and you painfully swallow. "Baby, can you hear me?" He tries again.

"Yeah, I'm here," you respond, quietly.

"Holy fuck, doll. Can I... Are you busy? Are you doing anything right now?"

"No, i'm home," you mumble.

"Can I come see you?"

"Toji..." you start, your tone conveying what you haven't even said yet. Your uncertainty.

"Baby, we have to talk. It's been a week and-- This can't be it. Please, just... just five minutes. Five minutes and i'll go."

You know it won't be five minutes. You can't force a solution out in five minutes—not a sincere one at least. Some part of you is soothed by the sound of his voice, regardless of how frantic and desperate he sounds. That's your love right there, and no matter how much hurt lingers from this whole dilemma, there's nothing you can do about your heart's response to him. So you open a door for him.

"Okay, Toji. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, pretty girl. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

There's a heavy, tense pause. Neither of you has hung up the phone, because something hasn't been done yet and he knows you know what he wants to hear. It would be enough for him to believe that you haven't forfeited. It would make him feel even the slightest bit of relief if you said those words he's been aching for.

"I love you, too, Toji," you utter, hanging up a couple seconds after.

Toji would be bouncing off the walls if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to you. He's been deprived of any form of love from you for a week and he was starting to go crazy, but hearing you say those words was all he needed for now.

Twenty something minutes later, you get a text from him, letting you know that he's outside. Your heart is in your throat, your stomach keeps flipping, and yet you use all the strength you have to get out of bed to meet him. Though you decide to take your time to get to your front door, you find that you're still there too soon, no time left to mentally prepare yourself for what is about to happen. With a final deep breath, you turn the lock, twist the doorknob, and open the door.

There Toji stands, hand suspended in the air with your spare key pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He steps back instinctively when you step aside from behind the door.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me using it, but you were taking a bit, so I thought maybe you'd want me to come in and we can talk inside or... I don't know."

He's rambling, there's a light stubble on his face, he's smiling at you like he always does—like you're his everything. Him being there doesn't actually process in your mind until he speaks up again.

"Hi, baby," he says, softly, observing you like you're some majestic painting hung up in a museum. Your eyes well up and it feels like there's a red-hot metal sphere lodged in your throat. "You're a saint for letting me come here and see you, you know that?"

Out of habit, you nod and mumble out a small, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, doll," he says, reaching for your hands to hold them. He barely manages to grab them, get a feel for your soft skin after so long, before you're pulling them away from him. "No, come on," he pleads, grasping your hands again. "Please? Please, look at me."

"You can't talk to me like that, Toji," you utter, voice unsteady because you're not used to having to stand up for yourself against the one who loves you like it's his life source.

"I know. I know that, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I was having a bad day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't know what the hell got into me, but please..." he mumbles, bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing weightless kisses on your fingers and knuckles. "Please, I love you, you have to believe me."

"You said..." you inhale sharply, doing all you can to get through this without choking on your emotions. "...you said you didn't have time to listen to me talk about nonsense, and that you wanted peace and quiet for once. Isn't... Isn't that all you get from me?"

"No tears," he says, warm palms moving up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the crystals that glide down them. "No tears," he repeats, softer this time. "This is gonna get worked out, my sweet girl. I swear."

"I don't know how you want me to be," you admit, your voice wavering. "And I don't have the ability to read minds. You acted like everything was fine when you texted me, and then when you got here..." You let out a shaky breath, your hold on your emotions slipping. "I don't want to be upset with you, anymore, but i-i'm trying... It's not right."

It's as if someone is jabbing at his chest over and over again, relentlessly, even when his skin starts to bruise and little pinpricks of blood begin to appear. He hates seeing you this way, especially when he knows he's the reason for why you're hurt this bad. He wants it to stop and for this enormous raincloud above both of you to just dissipate.

"Come here," he says, low, almost inaudible. His hands lower, arms making contact with your sides. It's been too long since he's held you, yet, pulling you in feels as natural as breathing.

Your hands come up to rest on his abdomen, keeping him at a distance. It feels unnatural, because you're so used to letting him handle you like you're a stuffed animal, pulling you around when you're adventuring together and picking you up just because he feels like it. Your mind immediately clouds with guilt at your denial of his embrace, you can't even meet his eyes, opting to look down at where your hands are.

"Please don't," he says, his voice so soft that it makes your chest feel tight again. He grabs ahold of your wrists, just to have some sort of contact with you. His grip is almost entirely loose and you're in control, he won't move until you pull your hands away. "I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

You love him and you know he needs this—holding you in his arms, your confirmation that it's all going to be okay. You've said it before and the words have become one of his greatest comforts. What could be so bad when you tell him that it'll all turn out just fine?

"We've been apart for too long. A week shouldn't have gone by like this... and, fuck, I know it's my fault. I don't blame you for not wanting to see me, but... please, baby." His thumbs brush the insides of your wrists, eyes never leaving the sadness of your face, regardless of whether you look at him or not. He'll take this over not getting to see you at all, any day.

"Sweetheart."

You sniff, unmoving for a few more seconds. Your heartbeat is thrumming wildly in your ears, almost suffocating you with its relentlessness. It's all you hear, words lost in a spiral of ongoing silence. You still don't look at him when you finally pull your hands away, but you can feel his heavy, unwavering attention on you.

You're glad he doesn't wait for you to give him the green light to pull you in, because you have nothing to say at the moment, and it would be another test of patience. Instead, the second your hands are balled up at your sides, he moves at the speed of a lightning strike, your body colliding with his in an almost aggressive manner—there's an audible thump. His body heat mingles with the cologne on his shirt, the smell coiling around you and rushing through your nose with every breath you take. The feeling is familiar—love, safety, comfort—a second home, all wrapped up in your favorite person.

His hands scrunch up the back of your shirt like he's afraid you'll push him away again. "Baby," he mumbles, his voice almost inaudible. "Don't disappear like that again." A soft breath is expelled from his chest, riddled with the genuine fear he felt that he would never get to see you again.

"I know it's unfair of me to say this. I was an asshole and you were hurt, but, doll... I thought you were leaving me." There's a pause. Toji stares at the ground behind you, his hands deepening the creases he made on your shirt due to his unfaltering grip. "I don't want that."

"I'm not," you respond, heart shaking. "That day... it felt like you didn't even want to see me and you only came over because I asked not because you wanted to." The familiar ache in your chest stirs slightly, but you give it your all to get everything out in a steady and clear manner. "You can tell me you're tired, Toji. That you want to rest in the comfort of your own home, and I'll understand. I don't want to be another cause of stress for you."

It pains him to hear that because you're the one who keeps him sane, the one he thinks about when he settles into bed but can't get to sleep, the first person to know that he's still alive in morning, the one who has made him feel so safe, that he feels no shame when he occasionally calls to confirm that he's still loved by you.

"You're not," he simply murmurs. "It's not true."

"You don't have to worry about protecting my feelings."

His arms loosen around you, the back of your shirt wrinkled but freed from his clutches. Your heart is beating too fast, attempting to leave your chest. Now you're standing up straight, doing your best to not avert your gaze from the man before you.

"You're not a burden to me. Okay?" He says, and you want to believe him because of the way he's looking at you, like he's searching your eyes for even the smallest bit of confidence from you about the fact. "Say it."

The words are stuck, it's visible. Your lips twitch, but your voice doesn't progress. You just look at him, feeling the sadness seep into every part of you.

"You're not a burden to me. I need you to get that through your pretty head, right now," he says, only to feel his own heart skip a beat at your reaction.

"Sorry," you mumble, unable to instantly straighten out the curl of your lips.

In this moment, Toji knows that everything is going to be okay. He hasn't heard you laugh in a week, and though it was only a small, congested giggle, he savors it along with your inability to regain your bearing, like it's his last sip of water while he's stranded in the desert.

"Gets you every time, huh?" He says, his own faint smile emerging.

'Right now', a habitual phrase of his that is meant to comfort you. You've told him before that not everything can be fixed or healed in an instant—things don't work that way—but he never backs down. You've translated it into something akin to a bandage—the words are meant to cover you while you take the time to fully and properly heal. The joy you find in hearing them is a small beginning.

"It's funny," you respond, taking in his amused little grin. God, you missed his handsome face and the way he looks at you like everything about you makes perfect sense to him.

"My impatience is funny to you?" He teases, loving the way you press your lips together before proceeding to nod. He can't even be playfully offended, too entranced by the way you're actually smiling at him. He sighs through his nose and just watches you—admires you for a couple seconds, and when you start nervously shifting on your feet, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your lower back as your body presses against his once more.

"Can you just say it, please? For me?" He murmurs, recognizing every one of the stars in your eyes. Though he thinks it's a tragedy to have gone a week without this view, he'll make up for lost time by creating new constellations.

"I don't know," you say, softly—filler words, your brain short circuits whenever he looks at you like that.

"For me, baby," he pleads once more. "Just wanna hear you say it."

You hum, unsure of whether you can say something you don't entirely believe. You want to make him happy, you want things to be better, you want to believe what he said—what he wants you to repeat to him, but it's hard. Damage is easy to inflict and hard to heal. It won't go away immediately, no matter how much you love the person who is trying to fix their mistake.

"I don't know-"

"Please?" he blurts.

"Toji, I don't-"

"Pretty please?" he cuts again, seeing the way your seriousness falters like before. Your laugh finds his ears once more, a sound he just wants to keep hearing. The sound embraces him. "With a cherry on top?" he adds, a sly little grin on his lips.

It's getting harder and harder to turn him down. He's precious, he's trying, and you cherish his effort. It's not going to kill you to just say it.

You sigh, "I'm not a burden."

"To who?" He questions, seeking elaboration from you.

"To you."

"Damn right," he says, proud. "We'll get you there. I'm not gonna leave you like this, alright?"

"Okay," you confirm, nodding slightly.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Again, you nod, expecting a quick peck—maybe a few quick pecks, but no, he goes on to kiss you like its been months since he last saw you, not a week. He's desperately chasing after your lips, seeking more and more of what he's been deprived of for too long. In his mind, he says 'never again, never again, never again', because he can't imagine going so long without your sweetness again. Without the softness of your lips against his, without those pretty smiles and laughs being thrown at him. It sounds like hell 2.0. when he thinks about losing it all over again.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs, still just a breath away from your lips.

"Yeah," you respond, eyeing the short little pins of hair that sprinkle over his jaw and upper lip area. It makes you smile, you don't always get to see his face when it's not clean shaven.

"I was in a rush," he explains, unnecessarily, following the way your eyes trace his face.

"Mm," you hum, smiling. "Can I shave your face?"

"You wanna clean me up?" he asks, almost as if he's surprised.

"Only if you want me to. It was just an idea," you say, smiling sheepishly.

To that, he chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks feel warmer.

"Oh, I want you to," he says, leaning forward to peck your lips, luring quiet giggles from you when he doesn't want to pull away.

Now, you sit on the counter of your bathroom sink, with Toji standing between your legs. There's a slight tremble in your hand, spurred on by his hands resting on your hips and the way he watches you with so much focus, trusting you enough to let you do this without a word from him. You drag the razor carefully along his cheek, making sure not to move too fast or use too much pressure.

Toji waits until you're cleaning off the blade to make his move of leaning in to press kisses to your face. Small peaks of foam are left behind on your skin, wiped away by gentle strokes of his thumb.

"I'm about to start again," you say through a laugh, leaning away to avoid ridding his face of all the protective spume on it. The razor remains beside you until he finally behaves himself. He huffs like you've been rejecting his affection the whole time, but nonetheless stands up straight and as still as a statue.

After some time, longer than it would have taken him alone—longer than it would have taken you if he didn't smother you every time you paused to clean the razor—you got it done. You brought back the smoothness of his skin.

"Am I pretty again?" he jests, drying his face with one of your towels.

"Stunning," you quip in response, shifting on the counter to signal that you're going to hop off.

"You're stunning," he says, low, unmoving from where he stands between your legs. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he adds, seeking more of that feeling the flustered smile on your face gives him. "Missed you lots, you know that?" You just laugh and shake your head, like you're silently calling him crazy. "What? I'm serious," he says in response, a soft grin on his face. "Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"

A single second passes by. You can't lie to him and say you didn't. You missed him every single day, through the hurt. Your chest ached and your heart dropped every time you remembered the incident, but your love for him never wavered. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and with how often he tried to reach you, it was nearly impossible not to have him on your mind.

"Of course I did. I took the time I needed, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

"I know, baby. And I would never hold it against you. I'm just... glad I can see you again, is all."

You smile. The gleam and sincerity in his eyes is a wonder to witness and well worth the butterflies that overly crowd your stomach.

"I really did miss you," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "'Lots.'"

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, then he leans in close for nth time, peppering kisses across your cheek until he reaches your lips. He can feel you smiling into the kisses, a sensation he yearned for with every fiber of his being for the past week. One of his hands rests on your thigh, caressing the inner part of it, while the other slides up your shirt and settles on your waist. The lip-lock steals your breath away, but even then, you challenge your lungs for your lover's sake, only pulling away when you're a panting mess and Toji's breathing is more audible.

The tension is palpable, the silence loud as you look at one another like you're still taking in the fact that you can be loving towards each other again, in a manner that doesn't derive from guilt for the time that you didn't get to demonstrate how much you truly love each other. Enough to not be able to leave a fresh wound alone, enough to forgive while outwardly expressing that you have not healed but are patient enough to work towards regaining that strength.

"I don't wanna go home," he murmurs, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips before focusing on solely your eyes.

"You don't have to," you respond. "Stay as long as you'd like."

"And if I said I wanted to spend a week here with you? Would you hate it?"

You shake your head. "No, but I think you'd get tired of seeing me all the time."

"You're wrong, pretty girl. Is this your subtle way of saying you're tired of looking at my mug, already?" He asks, lips curling with amusement at your giggle.

"No, I want you to stay," you say, honest.

"Promise?"

You nod, followed by an affirmative hum.

"Say it again," he requests, heart thudding just a little faster when you smile.

"I want you to stay, Toji," you repeat, his name on your tongue causing your cheeks to warm up.

"Again." His hands mold around your hips—squeezing, loving.

"Stay," you say, softer.

He sighs, heavy, an enamored look in his eyes that you have never been able to comprehend. Those dark, viridescent eyes, have a brilliance to them as he looks at you like you're the last good thing he'll ever be able to call his. You're good for him, you're good to him, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you because you gave him your heart.

"Yeah... you're stuck with me here for a week and you're come with me to pick some stuff up from my place, tomorrow. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, with a laugh.

"Now, we get you off this counter," he says, lifting you like you're a teddy bear that he carries around for protection. He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the suddenness. "Hold me tight, baby," he says, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before moving anywhere. A kiss is planted on your shoulder as he turns around to exit the bathroom.

"And now you let me show you some love," he says, low, carrying you to your bedroom.

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lymtw · 3 months ago

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omg i share the EXACT same experience as you… i grew up extremely socially anxious and agoraphobic. my family had to do everything for me including ordering me stuff, speaking for me, etc. this only improved when i got my first job as well because of the mass exposure to other people for prolonged periods of time. i also got my first job super late compared to most of my friends and i always felt like a bum because of it but it wasn’t even because of having a wealthy family or not having to work, it was because i genuinely could not do it and had to do extensive therapy. i got my first job at 20 years old. now i’m much better and able to socialize more but i still have social anxiety, just not to such a high degree like my past self. anyways, sorry for rambling but reading your experience made me feel better cause i always felt like i was the only person who experienced that (as i feel like most people do when they go through stuff).

No, I completely understand, and I really appreciate you sharing this. You're amazing! I totally agree with you—it is really nice when others are able to empathize with you, especially when it's something so crucial in your life. Being validated and understood, just knowing that someone out there gets what you have experienced—it's a whole different type of relief. I'm happy to hear that you've made good progress, and for what it's worth, i'm incredibly proud of you.

Yapasaurus Mal has returned 🦕💙

#❁ mal can talk ❁

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lymtw · 3 months ago

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ur toji stuff always makes my poosay throb 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Yay! 🤠💙

#❁ mal can talk ❁

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lymtw · 3 months ago

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Your writing actually makes me feel something ilysm

That's awesome. Thank you for appreciating my work 😊 ily thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much x♾️ 💙

#❁ mal can talk ❁

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lymtw · 3 months ago

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hi mal! i’m new to your page and just wanted to say your characterization of toji is SO spot on for me! i love how you show a vulnerable side of him when he’s with reader and his gruffness is just the right amount to still be him without feeling mean. i really don’t know how to put it into words, but i resonate so deeply with the way you write him - like he’s exactly how i’d want an ideal partner to behave! i will literally be thinking of your writing when i’m manifesting my dream man LOL

Hii! Sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. Welcome anyway! 🫶 I'm glad you enjoy the way I characterize this man. I don't see him as a full on bully and Toji in love is 👹☺️🤭✨ My favorite EVER. I wanna punch a cloud any time I think of a fluffy scenario to put him in. EEEE gentle giant, teddy bear vibes fr. Thank you for your incredibly kind words, I sincerely hope your manifestation comes true 😊💙

#❁ mal can talk ❁

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lymtw · 3 months ago

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HIIII. Ok I just wanna say there’s something about your writing that’s honestly so unique. The way you write about stuff makes me FEEL STUFF and that’s amazing. It’s insane to me how writers can write in a way that makes people FEEL stuff. And you always execute that perfectly. Sucks that these men aren’t real tho 😔😔 I’d honestly love to start posting too, any tips?? Also plssss make another to hi and his shy girl THEY MAKE MY WHOLE DAY. I start giggling and kicking my feet when i see u posted omlll. I love you :))

This has been in my inbox for so long that you've already started writing ☹️ I'm sorry I took so long to answer. First off, thank you for the kind words!! 👹🫶 I'm happy to hear that my writing as well as other writers' works make you "FEEL STUFF" hehe. I think the only good advice I have to offer is write whatever you want. It works for me personally. You'll rarely see any angst in my writing and if there is, there will be comfort or a "good ending" 🙂‍↕️ That's what I like writing, at least and I never stress about posting it. I stay in my cozy little bubble. I'm glad you like the "Toji and His Shy Girl" collection. I'll be sure to post more! Love you and take care 😚💙

#❁ mal can talk ❁

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lymtw · 3 months ago

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ToJi TOji TOJI Toji TOJIIII I still ADORE him I swear 🥺💙💙💙 Oh god i'm gonna be so sick right now and cry and scream and 😭😭😭 Byeeee ✌️😭

#❁ mal can talk ❁

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lymtw · 3 months ago

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The Handler and His Wife

"Honey?" Shiu calls, instantly snatching your attention from whatever you were looking at on your phone. His palms don't pause the soothing pressure they apply to your calves and all along your bare legs.

"Hm?" You hum in response, putting your phone down and giving him your full attention. You laugh when he just silently stares back at you, almost mindlessly. "What?" You say, indicating that you're listening.

He blinks out of his daze and smiles softly. "Anyone ever tell you that your existence is wet dream fuel?"

You roll your eyes, and give him that smile he loves so much. The one that tells him to shut up without you having to say it.

"Yeah, you. All. The. Time," you respond, sassily. "I know you only say it 'cause we're married," you argue.

"Now, now, baby. You know that's not true," he counters. Warmth riddles his tone, and the paired gentle squeeze to your knee has you softening up more. "You had me melting for you like a popsicle left out in the sun, way before we even got acquainted. I know you know that for a fact," he says, grinning almost victoriously when your lips curl.

"All those rounds of eye contact tag..." You sigh, wistfully. "It was hard not to reciprocate your glances when I liked playing with you so much."

"You played for too long and look where it got you," he teases, wearing the smuggest grin on his face.

"Married, to the man who sics me on people for fffat ssstacks." You nod with your eyes closed and a smile on your face, like you're blessed.

Shiu just shakes his head, with a chuckle. You seem to enjoy "taking care" of people way too much. "I'm gonna retire you, someday. I hope you know that, hon."

"Yeah, when i'm like eighty, 'cause you won't wanna see my wrinkly ass, anymore."

"No, not when you're like eighty," he says, incredulously. "More like in two or three years."

There's a slight crease between your brows. There's never been talk about this, so you're not sure what to make of it in the moment.

"Well, we haven't sat down and discussed this properly."

"What's there to discuss? You'll be living the same way you do now, minus the crime. What's the problem?"

"The problem lies in the way you're going about things here, Shiu. You're not asking me, you're telling me. This is the first time I hear about this and I feel like I don't even have a say in it. You're making decisions for my future without me."

The moment has gone bitter. You've retracted your legs from where they rested on his lap and Shiu realizes he's messing the whole thing up when your attention leaves him, too. It wasn't his intention to make you feel like your word means nothing. He just wanted to give you something to look forward to in the future, away from all the blood and gore that you've gotten way too comfortable with.

Sure, there must have been a better way to communicate his vision, but things didn't turn out that way, and now his little wife is upset, and that just can't be the case. Things don't work that way between you and Shiu.

"Doll, will you lend me your ears if you're gonna keep your pretty voice from me?" He requests, eyeing the involuntary, yet, precious pout on your face and the way your arms are crossed over your chest. You're still the prettiest thing he's ever seen, even when you're grumpy. Relief washes over him when after a few seconds, you uncross your arms and take a breath, ready to give him a chance to explain his thought process.

"Listening," you mutter.

"We have to do it the right way," he says, laying out his palm for you. He knows you're not beaming with joy anymore, but it's a must. You always do this during serious conversations. It's the only way to make sure that neither of you is walking away from the other before everything is laid out and explained. It's harder to do when one of you is upset with the other, but you get over it for each other's sake.

You put your hand on his and cup it. Your ring is as brilliant as the day he put it on your finger, something you both notice before giving each other the focus necessary for resolving this minor tension.

"I'm sorry, doll face," he starts. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I was making decisions about your life without you. That really was my mistake. Three years is still a long time for us to figure these things out together. If three years from now, you still want to be my pretty psycho killer, then we'll talk about it." He smiles softly at the way your lips curl and press together, like you're suppressing the laugh he loves so much.

"But I'm serious about retiring you at some point." His hand holds yours tighter, as if to say 'hold on, hear me out'. "I don't want to wait for something to happen to you, to finally say 'hey, now's a good time to call it quits'. That would make me useless as your man, don't you think?"

You take it all in and come to the conclusion that this is just another one of his ways of acting like a caring and protective husband. He almost never tells you he's scared or worried for you. He's seen you kick ass and he's almost one hundred percent sure that you can kick his ass, but even the best get knocked down sometimes, and he won't wait around forever to see it happen to you.

"I get what you mean, now. Sorry I caught on fire so fast," you say, with a sheepish smile. "I see your side of things, and I do want to retire at some point, but for some reason three years sounds like so little time. It sounds like tomorrow will come and those three years will be gone, and... that's so scary to me, Shiu. That's like ending something that's always been a part of me in the snap of a finger."

"I know, hon. It's not something that's meant to be figured out in one night. We just have to keep talking about this. Maybe we could do a check in every couple of months, see where your head's at with all of this. Okay?"

You nod. "Yeah, okay."

"Are we okay now? You know my poor heart can't handle you being mad at me for too long," he says, clutching his chest with his free hand to emphasize where it hurts.

"We're good," you assure, with a smile.

"Okay, now prove it," he challenges.

You crawl over to him and plop yourself down on his lap, resting your hands on his chest. He's quick to let his hands splay over your lower back, slowly rubbing the area. Your hands move down from his chest, eventually reaching the hem of his shirt and dipping beneath it.

"Careful, wife," he murmurs, when you start making little featherlight strokes on his abdomen.

"Hm?" You hum, innocently. "I'm just giving you the evidence you asked for. Is it too much? Are you gonna melt for me, Shiu?"

"You're teetering," he warns. He can feel the crotch area of his pants growing tighter as you run your soft fingertips along his stomach and the waistband of his boxers.

"You can keep me steady, baby," you respond, softly. You watch his eyes progressively get darker, clouding with the beginnings of something sinful. The more you tease him with your delicate touch and sweet, contrasting gaze, the closer he is to snapping and giving you what you're digging for.

"Be good to me, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice deep enough to make a chill run down your spine. "One of us always ends up crying. I don't think I have to say who it is out loud, do I?"

You pull your hands out of his clothes and wrap your arms around him, before pressing a couple chaste, apologetic kisses to his lips. "Sorry, handsome," you say, laughing. "I'll be nice."

"Mhm. You always say that, and then you give me the attitude of your life," he says, letting his hands roam beneath the back of your shirt.

"Maybe, I just want you to play with me," you murmur, your lips spreading into a saccharine smile when he laughs. Your sweetness is a trick you like to pull out before you strike, like a cat.

"I think I play with you enough for you to tell me your needs when you have them, don't I?"

"Well, that's no fun," you say, disagreeing. "You don't like when I feel you up and give you the will to be rough with me? I just know you wouldn't be able to do it otherwise, 'cause I'm your 'sweet babydoll', so I have to bring your inner spirit out somehow, right, hubs?"

"I'm revoking that pet name," he says under his breath. "Oh, you're trouble, honey, that's what you are, but alright, you want me to play with you, i'll play," he says calmly, before flipping both of you over on the couch, so that he's looking down at you with all the unspoken mischief in his eyes and you're looking up at him with stars riddled in yours.

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