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mysteria157 · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Light Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Cowgirl, Fingering, Fingersucking, Cunnilingus, Slight Dom Reader (not much), Car Sex, Bathroom Sex

WC: ~16k (It's long so get some snacks)

Summary:

Maybe you're single for a reason. You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations, and you refuse to settle for less. For the ones who aren't worth the air they breathe, you chew them up and spit them out. You savor the taste so you know what to avoid the next time.

So when he looks down at you with that devilish smirk and calls you 'Princess', you're determined to prove that Toji Fushiguro is no exception.

Notes: Hello! This is my first fic with Toji and I'm nervous to get it out here. The setting of this fic and the elements I incorporated connect a lot with my own childhood and the memories (not the interactions in this fic) that I had at family cookouts and get-togethers. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon Header: myself (stability.ai)

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | **Sequel**

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

“Can I get you a drink, princess?”

When you meet Toji Fushiguro for the first time, it’s on the fourth of July at your uncle’s house. It’s a big get-together at a two-story house located in the countryside. Every year he opens up his spacious home for a gathering of your extended family to bring excessive amounts of alcohol, play old school rap and R&B too loudly, devour delicious fucking food, and set off fireworks that have been collected since the beginning of the year.

Your uncle has already made a home by the grill and taken control of the speakers after one of your younger cousins attempted to play something ‘a little too racy’ for his tastes. You’re pretty sure it was an Ice Cube song from the 90s that your uncle hates but is too proud to admit, so he lectures your cousin about ‘what young folks should be listening to’ instead.

The smell of hamburgers and ribs has been teasing your nose for the past hour, and your hunger is borderline unbearable with each sniff. You avoid the allure of the long table of food because if you look, you’ll be three plates in before the meat is done. There’s coleslaw, baked beans, greens, and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite aunt also brought her potato salad and you know she’s going to make yellow cake with chocolate frosting fresh before the fireworks. You love it so much and you were deprived of it last year when you were called in to work at the last minute. You will get some today.

The backyard is expansive and well-maintained, and your cousins and aunts have already laid their claim on swanky cushions of the nice patio furniture.

The one cousin you’re closest to in age and personality sits next to you on a large blanket a few yards away from the rising volume of your extended family. You were able to get a good ten minutes of conversation from her before her fiancé showed up and made a home inside of her mouth.

Your family normally has something to say about PDA—a stupid quip about acting ‘too grown’ even though you are both knocking on the door of thirty. But she doesn’t care—just like you, that’s why you like her so much even though her fiancé is sucking on her face like it’s his last day on Earth.

Shiu Kong is nice—gentle in his own way and carries himself with a bored air that seems to pull your cousin in. He’s enamored with her, practically folds in on himself when she’s around, and worships the ground she walks on. They’ve been together for a few years and you’ve never had a problem with him.

But that just might change today because he’s brought along a friend who has already ignited a flame of arousal and annoyance deep within your belly. From the moment Toji Fushiguro stepped into the backyard with Shiu, your family was transfixed. Your aunts can’t stop ogling, and your uncles and male cousins try to jokingly size him up.

“Oh honey why don’t you sit down, don’t be shy. Lemme get you something to drink.”

“That’s not steroids? It’s gotta be. Don’t play.”

“How much you bench?”

It’s annoying. So fucking annoying but you can’t help but agree. He’s a little older—maybe early thirties—but dangerously attractive.

Raven hair that reaches his ears, looks unbelievably soft and falls over emerald green eyes. A grey shirt hugs him too fucking deliciously for your comfort and dark jeans hug an ass that’s too fucking juicy. He’s a big man—a burly man and unfortunately, that’s how you like them.

Big, burly like a bear, respectful, and capable of making you feel small and protected but also valuing and worshipping you as a woman. Unfortunately, such men are hard to come by because you tend to intimidate them. You don’t tolerate disrespect in any form and quickly put men in their place if they try to undermine, belittle, or confuse protection with control. You know what you want, and you refuse to settle for less.

They can’t stand it.

And right now, you can’t stand Toji. As he looks down at you with a well-worn smirk on his face, a smirk that suggests he has plenty of experience in situations like this, your irritation grows. He’s a smooth talker, confident in almost everything he says. His voice is deep, but melodic in a strangely feminine way that makes his words slide like silk down your back, and the minute you heard it, your thighs threatened to rub together.

Definitely a smooth talker. But the nickname you don’t care for.

Princess.

Like you’re a dainty little thing who will bat her eyelashes and call him Daddy. It makes your walls of self-defense rise even higher, and the gentle smile you had given Shiu when he first said hello moments ago transforms into the beginnings of a frown.

Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, plant your wedges firm into the grass, and turn away from them before muttering, “I’m good.”

Toji simply shrugs; a gesture that annoys you even more because he doesn’t offer any other reaction that satisfies you. He settles into your previously vacated spot, leaning back on his hands. The jacket on his shoulders falls open and the sight of his shirt hugging his muscles is too much for you.

You inwardly curse as your eyes wander over his physique. Thick pectorals that you could easily rub your face against and make a pillow for yourself to sleep on stretch the fabric in a way that you’re sure it’ll rip. Abdominals tease just below the surface of his shirt that clings to him like a second skin. You want to lick between each one, press your teeth into the hard skin to make him wince and beg as you count each one.

Four, six, eight?

Fuck.

You don’t show how you want to straighten your spine against the chill of being caught staring. That smirk is on his face again, tugging at the corner of his mouth. There’s a scar on the right side that slashes vertically over his top and bottom lip and you dislike the arousal that begins to boil between your legs from the sight. You wonder how he got it. If it was a fight, did he win? The thought of him wrestling another man to the floor and taking a cut to the face in the process shouldn’t arouse you, but god it does.

His eyes make you think of moss as you watch them slide up your body, and it almost feels like invisible hands caressing you. They’re large and pale, littered with scars along the knuckles as they glide up your exposed chocolate legs, dip between your inner thighs, and caress the curves of your hips.

“See something you like?”

He’s ogling you but has the nerve to try and put you on the spot? You have enough self-control to let logic worm through the rising lust inside of you. You sneer down at him, sharp enough for Shiu to visibly pale and your cousin to giggle at.

“To be honest, I don’t really see much.”

You don’t give him a chance to retort and you pretend not to hear the soft hum of nonchalance he throws back. You walk away from them, turning just in time to shield the way your eyes widen at the feel of your face and neck prickling with heat.

The moment you close the bathroom door inside your uncle’s house, the breath trapped within your lungs escapes in a rush. You press your forehead against the wood and the coolness of it offers only little relief to the burning of your skin.

You turn your head and press your cheek against the wood so the cold surface can slide along your cheek as you open your eyes to take in your reflection.

Of course, Toji would ogle you. You’re confident enough to know your beauty.

A red sundress that hugs your curves, stops at your mid-thighs. Knotless braids with curled ends are piled on top of your head in a loose bun with a few strands that spill along your hairline.

You’re good-looking. But you’ve been out of practice with a man for a long time. Your last relationship ended when you caught him balls-deep in your coworker. You’re too shy to pursue a one-night stand and not detached enough for a situationship.

However, you could risk it all for Toji and you hate that you’re entertaining the thought. You hate that you’re imagining him barging into the bathroom, bending you over the counter, and taking you from behind with his large hand digging into the small of your back and whispering how much of a good girl you are as you beg him to cum.

God, get yourself together.

To calm yourself down, you find solace in your uncle’s quiet kitchen. There’s only one person occupying it, your favorite aunt, who is heavily pregnant and working on the yellow cake that you’ve been thinking about all day. You use the opportunity to distract yourself and take over for her, shooing her away to relax in the backyard.

You crack an egg against the off-white countertop, fractures splitting up the sides before spilling its contents into the silver mixing bowl in front of you. A self-deprecating thought slithers in your ears, and whispers loudly with wicked intention.

Toji wouldn’t want a woman like you.

You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations. It pushes them all away, and although you normally take pride in keeping away those who aren’t worth your time, it can get lonely.

To see your ex actively cheating on you was icing on a cake that was slowly cooking in an oven of your own self-doubt. You have standards, and while your friends consider you the voice of reason in their misfortunes with men, most members of your family think you’re too picky. You’re too much work, ‘you think you know everything’.

“Men will always have a wandering eye, it’s up to you to keep them in check, girl.”

“Honey, I love you, but the more you pick apart a man, the less he will want to be around you.”

“They love it when you cook for them, girl. Take care of your man and keep him fed and you’ll keep him forever.”

Bullshit.

It’s bullshit to take care of a man in the same way his own mother does. It’s bullshit to lose all sense of self and independence, to wait on a man when he gives you less than nothing in return—when he can hardly give you the bare minimum. You don’t mind cooking for a man who takes care of you, who loves and values you, who would never hold you back and would encourage you when you can hardly encourage yourself.

But all the good ones are in relationships now, married with a few kids, and in your resolve to stay strong and weed out the bad to find the good, it’s left you a little bitter.

Most black families are old school, and yours is no exception. They hold ‘for better or worse’ a little too close to their heart. They cling to an ideal that a man runs the household down to the basics in a way that makes you uneasy and in your defense, you snap when you’re backed into a corner.

You love them, you truly do, but they probably will never understand just how aware you are of the world and how little you are willing to put up with the problematic things that others consider normal.

Your ex was great at first. But he got comfortable. And when he got comfortable, he got lazy, a little too controlling, and a little too frustrated when you asked for certain things in the bedroom. The only person who knows about your breakup is your mother, who had the gall to be out of the country for work, leaving you to fend for yourself for today.

You watch as the batter spills on each side of your wooden spoon, parting and then falling back together like sand. In your reverie, you don’t notice a few of your relatives who have now entered the kitchen and are roaming through the fridge. You can hear one of your least favorite aunts—the bitchy one—playfully joking with someone, and whatever drivel comes out of her mouth makes that person laugh. It’s deep and suave enough to make a tingle of electricity stutter down your spine because you know it’s him.

Refusing to look in their direction, you continue mixing the batter until the lumps disappear.

“You been hiding in this kitchen for awhile now,” your aunt begins, Atlanta accent the most grating it’s ever been as she turns her gaze toward you. “You’re normally a little more talkative when your man is here. He not coming?”

There is not a trace of genuine concern in her tone. You and her bicker often; she presses your buttons and then gets mad when you press back. Your ex’s infidelity is ammunition you don’t want to give her, but being caught in a lie is something she would only treasure more to use against you later.

You clear your throat and turn the spoon in the batter once, then twice before answering without looking her way.

“No, he actually came inside of my coworker a few weeks ago. So we split up.”

You can feel the noise before you hear it—a characteristic and sharp ‘mmm’ that seems to be ingrained in your family’s DNA. It makes your grip tighten on the wooden spoon, and you scrape along the bottom of the bowl until it screeches on the metal.

“You gotta watch out for this one, Toji. She’s always been an outspoken one. Too good for ‘em all and likes to be a little mean to her men.”

You scrape harder and then turn to her, a sickly sweet smile plastered on your face.

“You’re right. The fact that I won’t settle for someone who will get bored with me after a few years makes me way too good for them. Should have turned the other cheek just like you did with your last husband. Or…was it the one before him?”

You catch the way Toji pulls his lips in to bite down on them, scar twitching as he fights to hold in a snicker.

Your aunt glares at you, purses her lips, and turns them to the side before pulling in a noise that has been passed down for generations. Her mother and her mother’s mother used the very same tactic to strike fear and insignificance in their children when they talked back. It’s a sucking of air between her teeth and the sound makes years of discipline from your own mother flash in your mind like you’re in the trenches of war.

You know she wants to say something, and you can taste the ‘you always got something to say’ in the air before Toji slides from his perch against the counter and places a hand on your aunt’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you a drink, huh? Didn’t you say you wanted me to try the beer you brought in?” She throws you a knowing glare before letting Toji lead her away; because if there is one thing that will distract her from showing out, it’s letting a good-looking man touch her.

The shaking in your hands helps you sift in the dry ingredients—a mix of sugar, flour, and baking soda—into the batter. The breaths through your nostrils are heavy and thick with anger, and the corners of your eyes sting with heat. You whip the batter harder than necessary, your aunt’s words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t—

The sight of a can of hard seltzer pressing onto the counter in front of you makes the ramblings in your mind stop. Familiar long fingers unfurl from the can and slide on the counter, their fingertips touching the edges of your mixing bowl in an effort to get to you.

“I would have given you a bottle of beer. But I had a feeling you might bash it over your aunt’s head.” He’s not wrong, and in your frustrated state, you consider his defense admirable. “I like a fight, but I’m a guest and the food looks good.”

Your grip on the spoon loosens slightly as Toji leans casually against the refrigerator, arms crossed over bulging biceps that stretch the short sleeves of his shirt. His jacket is now gone, and you can’t help but notice the veins in his forearms that protrude, tempting you to lick against them.

It takes the sheer will to tear your eyes away and focus on pouring the batter into the bundt cake mold, observing as it fills the intricate crevices.

“So he cheated? Most men are pigs.”

“But not you, huh?” you can’t help but retort, shaking the mold to disperse the air pockets that bubble on the surface.

In your peripheral, he shrugs. “I know what I like in a woman and once I get what I want, it makes no sense to look somewhere else unless she wants me gone. I’m a man…but I’m a loyal man.”

When you meet his emerald gaze, you can see a hint of pain and vulnerability that unsettles you, tilts you back on your heels from the force of his honesty. You reach for the can of seltzer and take a long swig to give yourself time to get your thoughts in order. The carbonation is sweet and fizzles along the sides of your tongue and down your throat.

“So what is it you like in a woman, Toji?”

It’s a question that probably should have been left untouched, but your curiosity overpowers your restraint. You don’t want to go back outside, because if your aunt is still feeling particularly petty, she will say something that will only make you leave. And you don’t feel like letting your family win today.

Toji’s strong gaze certainly isn’t helping. Those invisible hands slide along the crevices and dips of your body, stroking the small of your back before pressing featherlight against the back of your neck. The hairs rise in response, your skin prickling with gooseflesh.

Unexpectedly, he pushes off the refrigerator and walks closer to you, and you’re too shocked to back away. Despite his imposing stature, you know he won’t harm you. There’s something about him that’s warm and inviting, soft and tender even though his exterior is hard lines and muscle. The two of you are now mere inches apart, and the air feels thin as if you’ve reached the summit of a mountain and struggle to breathe due to the change in altitude.

Jet black locks graze against a rough cheek, the tips kissing the raised scar on the side of his mouth. Up close you can see his features more closely. His eyes are sharp and intense with deep green between his lids as if hiding a pearl in an oyster. Thin eyebrows make him look more serious and cutting and you’re swallowing back drool because your nose picks up a faint whiff of woodsy amber emitting from his body. It smells cheap—he’s put together in the most basic sense—but it still smells…good.

“I like a woman who knows what she’s about. Independent and doesn’t fuck around. Smart and pretty with curves I can grab and squeeze. Someone with some sass and isn’t afraid to put anyone in their place.”

He steps closer and your lungs heave in a desperate attempt to pull in air. The brush of the wall against your back makes you stutter out your exhale and you press your palms flat against the cool surface to keep you grounded.

“I like a woman with nice creamy brown skin that smells a little like the cake she’s baking…” Through the sea of delirium, you distantly realize that he’s describing you. “The red dress definitely is a bonus.”

That familiar smirk pulls against his lips again and your heart is thundering in your chest. You would be surprised if he couldn’t see it thumping erratically beneath the skin between what’s exposed of your cleavage.

But this is just another trick in their book to get you in their bed. Or in the bathroom. Or over the kitchen counter.

And as much as you want to, you can’t give in. Because you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.

So you tilt your chin up at him and narrow your eyes at his amused expression.

“Describing me in place of your ‘ideal woman’? That’s boring. Go use it on my bitchy aunt, she’s got fillers in her ass so that’s more curves for you to ‘grab and squeeze’ when she throws herself on you after the Hennessey kicks in.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly before a harsh laugh barks from his mouth. It’s surprisingly nice on your ears and rattles the drums inside in a way that you don’t dislike. He pulls away from you, giving you a few more inches of space and the altitude in the air seems to level out enough for you to take an inconspicuous deep breath.

“Nah, nothing against fillers, but I’m more of a natural man myself,” he admits.

“Cellulite and stretch marks?” you ask with a lift of a brow, teasing but…mildly curious.

You watch as that smile slowly slides on his face, teeth glittering and eyebrows raising. He looks like he’s hit the jackpot.

“The whole package, princess.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, you push down the lingering arousal in your stomach, refusing to let it simmer. He’s funny and you appreciate a man who loves the raw and often overlooked intricacies of a woman.

His response is disorienting, throwing you off balance, and you’re unsure of what to do next. Your usual response is to talk back, to take delight in a man fumbling when his own cards have been turned against him. But you can’t think of anything right now.

You move around him to place the bundt cake mold into the oven, setting a timer with the plastic buttons above the stove. Snatching the seltzer from the counter, you lean back against the oven, putting a considerable distance between the two of you to think.

Toji mimics your movements, retreating to the fridge to relax against it, folding his arms across his chest, and god he still takes up the room. Even though you’re further away, it still seems like you can smell the cologne as if it’s sitting right on the skin below your nose.

“Do your moves always work on women?” you ask before taking a good swig of your seltzer.

He shrugs in response and turns around to dig a beer from the fridge. You don’t bother to hold back the urge to leer at him. You want to grab his ass, listen to him squeal in surprise, and blush in embarrassment when you squeeze. The thought of digging your fingers into the skin of it as he fucks you nice and slow makes your mind short circuit, a computer rebooting and making a loud noise before frying out indefinitely.

“On the rare occasion that I happen to use them, yes they always work. But…obviously not on you.”

“I’m not easy to win over. You need to be worth my time.” Your eyes flicker up to his face before he turns around to face you.

He takes a swig of his beer and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. The column of his throat is long and pale and you want to slide your tongue along the side to taste the saltiness of his skin.

“What’s it going to take?”

His interest in you is admirable, and a small part of you is giddy with the attention. But you’re nervous to give him an inch when most are quick to take a mile.

“I have a name so stop calling me princess. I’m not a royal, so unless you’re offering me land, money, or power, I don’t want to hear it.”

He barks out another laugh, his thick chest shaking and eyes closing as he throws his head back. You despise how good it sounds and you’re reminded of these moments when men seem so beautiful and wonderful before the ugliest parts of them are visible.

“What else?” he inquires, still chuckling as he takes another long sip.

“If you’re expecting sex from me, think again. I don’t do one-night stands or friends with benefits. It’s messy and I just don’t have the strength for it.”

He seems to consider your remark as if he has no choice but to weigh your stipulation before signing a contract. Then he smirks that devilish smirk that makes your cunt pulse between your thighs when you know damn well it shouldn’t. You cannot be this turned on by this man.

“Not even if I have a big dick?” he teases.

He’s annoying and you’re mildly disgusted but still willing to banter with him, so you grimace and roll your eyes. “What, you want me to take a look first before I make up my mind?”

He full-on grins, the fucker. “If that’s what it takes.”

But in true fashion, you bounce back with your own quip. “Public indecency is a crime and I also don’t like to look at cock until after I’ve eaten something. It’s nauseating.”

Laughter erupts from him once again, loud and boisterous that it seems to shake the oven against your back. He probably thinks you’re joking. But you’re not. Dick already looks alien. Looking at dick on purpose without any sense of arousal is pathological behavior.

Your heart flips in your chest when he pushes off the refrigerator again, taking a swig of his beer as he saunters to you and the sight is criminal. Your fingers dig just slightly into the metal can in your hands, a faint pop emanating from it.

“What are you bothering me for anyway,” you can’t help but ask, frustration coating your words as you frown more at yourself than at Toji. “I have so many other cousins here who are single and would love to get their hands on you.”

At first, he doesn’t respond, and in the silence, you struggle to take a full breath again. You don’t like that he’s so close to you, but you also love the way he smells and the way he looks at you as if you’re someone and not something to fucking eat. You’re a fucking mess.

His head tilts slightly, and his hair follows the movement, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes take you in instead of scrutinizing you.

The air feels thin again, and you ready yourself to leave when your pregnant aunt suddenly barges back into the kitchen and stops short at the scene. Toji takes a slow step back, not really bothering to fumble at being so close to you. You’re sure he doesn’t really care.

She’s your favorite for a reason because she understands. She’s not dismissive and mean and she simply smiles knowingly at you both before gesturing with her head towards the backdoor.

“Time to eat. Honey, why don’t you show Toji what’s what before your uncles steal everything.”

***

He stays close to you when you both make it outside, and you do your best to ignore your bitchy aunt’s gaze from her perch in one of the patio chairs. The spread of food makes your mouth water and you waste no time grabbing a plate for yourself and absentmindedly handing Toji one as well.

“I’ve never had some of this before,” he admits, and his voice is a little apprehensive from next to you as he takes everything in. It makes sense, this is probably his first cookout…his first black cookout at least. Strangely, you’re proud to be the one to guide him along.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing to the heavy helping of greens and ham hocks on his plate minutes later. You’re both at a small table alone and away from the noise.

“Collard greens…it’s a cabbage that’s cooked in a pot for a few hours with spices and broth. The ham hocks give it flavor, cook it before you add the greens so the meat falls off the bone better.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Toji gives them a wayward glance, an arch of a thin brow that makes his features more handsome than they should be, and then he takes a tentative bite before moaning sinfully in appreciation. The vertebrae of your spine lock in place, stiff with a sudden chill at the noise as you picture it slipping from his lips while you ride him until the hinges fall off.

You take your own bite to stop anything stupid from coming out of your mouth.

You figure he has to eat to accommodate for his size but to see it in action is something else entirely. He finishes two plates in fifteen minutes and as he makes his way to get another serving, your bitch of an aunt speaks up from across the lawn.

“Why don’t you get up and get him another plate?”

Why don’t you shut the fuck up?

You grip the plastic fork in your hand tightly, digging into your diminishing potato salad and swallowing the vile that you want to throw her way.

Make your man a plate before you make yours, get him a drink, get him another helping so he doesn’t have to, keep him fed.

Maybe this is why you’re single. You want to scream. You want—

“Don’t listen to her. You’re still eating, don’t move,” he levels, and you don’t miss the hint of irritation in his own voice as he gets up. “The same seltzer as before?” he asks, pointing to your drink that you didn’t realize was empty.

“I—”, you fumble before clearing your throat. “I like the strawberry one…if there’s any left.”

He shoots a wink your way and your body ignites with heat.

Your cousin worms her way over when Toji disappears, and you try your best to ignore the sly look on her face.

“Defending your honor from our bitchy aunt? My, my, the perfect recipe for your feminist heart.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, shoving the last of the potato salad in your mouth.

“He’s Shiu’s best friend. Moved here from Japan a few months ago and is living in the same city as you. It could be fate? You want his number?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap again, feeling exasperated but knowing that unless Shiu is here to stop her, she will talk until she’s tired or you’re swinging at her.

She giggles, undeterred and gearing up for more. “He’s single too. And you’ve got all our other cousins mad as hell because he won’t leave you alone.” You don’t reply, because you’re mildly intrigued and impressed with yourself. It’s nice to have the attention from someone so attractive; it’s just figuring out if he’s genuine that’s the headache. “When the music gets louder tonight…or when the fireworks go off, take him upstairs and fuck him on—”

“Didn’t I say—fuck you.”

She guffaws, loud and unabashed and it pulls a smile from the side of your mouth. You know she doesn’t mean it, you know that at gatherings like these, you’re the black sheep and she just wants you to enjoy yourself.

“Seriously though, cousin. Shiu doesn’t keep many around, but they’ve been friends since they were kids. That’s a good sign right?”

There’s some merit to it, but you still want to be careful.

And Toji Fushiguro makes it hard for you to be careful because he wants you around him all the time and is unashamed to show it.

Later in the night when the music is booming old school hip hop that your uncle won’t shut up about (he’s drunk), your other uncles—and a few cousins they will definitely con—have a table already bustling with spades. At first, you’re unsure how they convinced Toji to join, but he’s partnered with one of your cousins who has no clue about the game, and you realize they just want Toji to lose so they can feel good.

Feeling curious, you pretend to bring Toji a beer. He’s frowning down at the cards, irritated with his lips curled into a small scowl and your cousin is trying to act like he knows what to do, but his stupidity is palpable even from where you stand.

You offer him a beer and ignore the fact that the one on the table is still full. When he looks up at you, his sharp eyes hold you like a vice, frustration evaporating quickly before opportunity takes its place.

“Help me.” He doesn’t bother to hide the confusion in his voice and you can’t help the way your stomach flips.

One of your uncle’s snickers. “She doesn’t know how to play.” You do. “But she can try.”

You’re so annoyed, and you want to snap at him but Toji is pulling you closer to him with a muscular arm before you can. You’re in his lap before you know it, sitting precariously on a thick thigh with your back pressed against a broad chest and you can’t breathe again. The fluctuating altitudes are making you lightheaded.

Any other time and you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around and knock a man’s teeth in for grabbing you. But against your better judgment, you relax into Toji instead. His cheap cologne smells way too fucking good, he’s so big and warm against your body and your throat is drying up like you’ve taken a big breath in the middle of the Sahara.

“Don’t grab me like that,” you can’t help but grumble, only mildly put off.

“I improvised.” It’s a feeble excuse wrapped around a heavenly chuckle in your ear and you pray to whoever is listening, mentally offering up a sacrificial lamb, anything to ensure you don’t drip all over his thigh. “Now help me win.”

You do. Three times. He's adamant about winning and you're sure he has a gambling problem. And if your legs go a little numb from sitting on his thigh or if you lean into the way his outside hand slides to hold the curve of your waist, you don’t complain about it.

***

“You don’t dance?” Toji asks an hour later, joining you on the blanket that you occupied when you first arrived. It’s almost sunset, and the orange of the sky covers half of the backyard as your family revels in their merriment.

You shrug at Toji’s question, gazing at members of your family who are dancing in the yard. One of your loudest uncles is boasting about the music as he teaches one of your cousins dance steps. That used to be you so many years ago, and the moves are like muscle memory as you watch them. One of your aunts takes over the stereo, beginning what will surely be an hour of reminding everyone of the greatest hits.

You suddenly realize that it’s just you and Toji on the blanket. Your cousin and Shiu are off god knows where, and given her penchant for being a rebellious freak, she’s probably riding him on your uncle’s bed. The thought makes you shudder.

“Are you cold?” he probes, pulling you out of your thoughts.

It is cooler now, but that’s not why you were shivering. You’re ready to tell him no, to start shaking your head even as you watch him pull his own jacket off to place it over your shoulders. His hands smooth over your shoulders and down your arms as if securing it closer to your skin and your blood boils beneath your cheeks. Your skin isn’t light enough to show when you’re blushing, but you’re burning with nervousness.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you hiss instinctively, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The surprise is evident on his face and you immediately feel guilty. “I’m—I’ll only be mean to you in return.”

For the first time of the night, he looks angry. His eyebrows dip, the scar on his cheek twists with the harsh frown on his lips and he gives a severe ‘tch’ that makes you gape at him. “Why because you’re mean to men?” he snaps, impatient and free of any tease.

It raises your hackles instantly, and you’re talking back before you know it. “Exactly. So why don’t you take a hint and stop trying to get into my pants—”

You feel a rough finger on the side of your cheek turn you further towards him, preventing you from looking at anything else.

“You just don’t like bullshit. Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

For once, you don’t have anything to say even though your hand is twitching with the urge to slap the words from his mouth. You want to. It’s easy for you to fight back and push them away, you’re good at it. But you can’t fight the way his gaze seems to calm you down against your better judgment.

You pull your face from his hold and roll your shoulders, sliding out of his sharp gaze and turning back to your lively family. One of your cousins is arguing about why the Cowboys didn’t make it into the playoffs, and now everyone has something to say.

You pull in a deep breath, scolding yourself to relax just a little. He hasn’t been so bad, and you’re not one to make things intentionally difficult if a man is honestly trying. You’re still apprehensive about his intentions…but he is trying without being a beast. So you exhale your frustrations into the July air, calm down so your heart can steady its frantic pounding from the lingering scent of his cologne, and dig your fingers into your uncle’s well-kept grass.

“Fine. If I let you be nice to me…what would be the next thing you would say?”

You can’t look at him, but you feel his eyes on your body as you pluck a few blades of grass from the soil. The strands slide against the pads of your fingertips, rough and threatening to cut, before fluttering in the breeze when you release them.

He’s grabbing you again, tenderly but possessively, sliding you into his embrace so your back is to his muscular chest, his chin rests on the side of your temple and his arms wrap around your waist. Your heart is back to leaping in your chest, pumping loud and fast in your ears, drowning out the music and arguing as if you’re underwater.

“How about you tell me about your family?” he suggests, voice unmuffled through the thickness of your hearing.

It’s a random ask, as if he wants to impress them, as if you’ve been dating for a long period of time and he wants to be prepared to meet them for the first time. The thought doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth, even though you know it would never be a reality anyway. You don’t know if he’s just joking and frankly, the feel of him against you is warmer than his jacket on your shoulders and you don’t want to leave.

So, if it means he can stay put, you give in. You tell him about your aunts, uncles, and cousins—where they are from and what they do. You share your traditions when you all get together and the small intricacies you all share. It’s incredibly personal…maybe even too intimate. But he listens, and hums to let you know he’s paying attention, and asks you questions as you talk.

Eventually, his cheek rests on the crown of your head against your braids and you surprisingly don’t mind at all. When you notice his arms wrapped around you, you get a better view of the scars on his arms and fingers, and there is a rising urge to ask how he got each one.

“So she’s been married twice?” his voice is low in your ear so you can only hear him in the noisy backyard. His breath smells faintly of the beer he finished an hour ago, and it slides along the skin of your neck hot and thick. You resist the urge to cant your neck to the side to give his breath more room to roam.

You nod. “She got the fillers after the first husband. Those brought in the second husband. Then he left her for some girl in Cali.”

“Cali?’ he questions, confused.

You snort softly. “California.” You elbow him and the bone slides against hard muscle. Dammit. “You don’t know your states?”

“I’m foreign, not stupid.” The laugh that bubbles from your chest is sharp and you can’t help the smile that pulls against your cheeks from it. “I know my states!” He sounds truly annoyed and for some reason that makes you laugh harder. “Florida, Kansas—”

“I’m not asking you to prove yourself!” you sputter around a giggle, shaking in his embrace. But he’s not listening.

“Montana, New York…there’s another one…the big one.”

You gawk, turning just a little to crane your head up at him. He looks down at you with an embarrassed expression, his cheeks a little rosy even though his lips are flickering with the urge to laugh.

“I beg your finest pardon…the big one?”

The side of his face twists in the nastiest way, and he’s angry at being questioned. “Don’t—it’s the one down below!”

“In relation to what?”

His eyes narrow, emerald barely noticeable between thick lashes. You can sense his hold on you tightening slightly, his chest stutters in a huff and you realize with rising glee that he’s pouting. Normally you would revel in this…but—

“Texas,” you find yourself speaking up at him, voice soft and gentle on the edges. “The big one down below is Texas.”

He simply hums, his chest vibrating against your back, but his gaze is smoldering, taking you in and dipping down to your lips before flickering back up your eyes. You’re too hot now, his jacket against your skin too suffocating, your heart beating too fast against your ribcage.

You hate just how rebellious you like to be. “What, you gonna kiss me?”

The challenge is fleeting across his features and he leans down so quickly that you don’t have time to react. Your stomach flips with irritation at the implication that he would take from you without asking, and suddenly, you no longer want him touching you.

“I wouldn’t take it without asking,” he whispers in the small space between you both as if reading your thoughts. The tips of his raven locks brush against your cheek, there’s a slight kink in your neck from how you are looking up at him, but he’s so close that you don’t care. One of his hands skims up from your waist, caressing the curve of your ribs, and his thumb teasingly runs along the underside of your clothed breast. His touch is reactive in you, and you angle your body further into his actions. His gaze remains locked on yours, absorbing your very being without doing a thing and you’re fighting to stay in control.

“So can I?” he asks, voice deep with temptation. “Kiss you?”

You swallow the bucket of drool that has somehow pooled in the back of your throat in seconds. The thumping of your heart no longer fills your ears, replaced now by a deafening ringing, spurred by your growing desire as you open your mouth to respond.

“I…depends…are you any good?”

He nonchalantly shrugs, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his scarred lips twist into a smirk. He’s completely calm and you can tell if you told him no, he would leave it alone entirely. But he’s enjoying this, you can see it all over his face.

“Jury’s still out.”

You don’t trust yourself to say ‘yes’. Some part of you feels like if it comes out of your mouth, it will sound too desperate and you want to stay in control as much as you can. But, you could give yourself this. You’ve earned it. Just one kiss and then you could hide away until the fireworks and then use the noise as a cover to leave. After all, he’s hot. He’s been so nice and honest and the warning siren in your mind has long faded.

You deserve a reward.

So you nod, stiffly but enough for him to notice, and the air seems to thin out again when he leans in a little more.

“Toji!” one of your uncles calls out, severing through the heavy cloud of lust between you both like a knife. You recoil from his touch, his touch now only making you itchy, and you pull from his embrace so that his arms unravel and his jacket slides off your shoulders. The cooler air is freezing this time against your skin. “Come help me with the fireworks, would you?”

You don’t pay attention to his response, because you’re already up on your feet and making your way inside the house. Your body floods with the embarrassment and shame of being caught by your family…kissing a man that you’ve just met. You know you shouldn’t care…but it’s so easy for their behavior to rub off on you when you feel vulnerable.

***

Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen when you finally make it inside. The music dulls down when you close the backyard door and the ringing in your ears is now silent.

You resolve to stay inside until the fireworks go off. No one is really paying attention to you anyway—most of them are drunk, others too absorbed in the music and gossip so it’s a perfect chance for you to duck away and show your face again next year.

Should you tell Toji goodbye?

No.

No, you hardly know the man. Just a few hours in good company and a kiss that almost happened that you probably would have let escalate. You probably would have let his tongue slide into your mouth. Probably would have let him pull you into one of the spare rooms, eat you out until you’re seeing stars, and then bend you over the edge of the bed to fuck you until he—

For fuck’s sake.

You yank open one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a glass. You need water because your body is piping hot. There’s a sheen of sweat on your neck beneath the layer of braids that fell when Toji laid his cheek on your head, and your hands are slick as they press into the counter to give you strength to peek into one of the lower shelves. Of course, the only one in the cabinet would be on the highest shelf. Of course, you’re too fucking short.

You climb onto the counter, knees digging into the off-white surface as you lift yourself up and peer into one of the higher shelves. You spot a glass, and you can have a heaping glass to cool yourself off enough to get you home. And then you can just use your vibrator once and go to sleep. Or twice. Or maybe a third time to get the thought of him out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s standing behind you. You didn’t even hear the back door open and close. But you catch a glimpse of a long, muscular arm reaching past your ear to grab the glass. You’re frozen, your fingers digging into the wooden shelf, unable to turn around and face him, even though you can feel his gaze hot on your skin.

Your plan is shattered, and you have no choice but to come up with an excuse to leave him. You’re combing through scenarios in your mind as you slowly slide down and perch yourself on the countertop, finally facing him. He places the glass on the counter, away from you, and closes the distance between you until the ridges of his clothed abs brush against your knees. His hands are searing against your skin as they rest on your knees and you watch his thumbs trace an obscure pattern with a touch that is featherlight.

“Your uncle interrupted us,” Toji finally speaks, his voice carrying a hint of hopefulness despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. His gaze, so harsh and sharp, is alluring in its own way, tempting you to relax the steady clench of your thighs.

“It probably wasn’t a good idea anyway,” you chuckle, self-deprecation rising to the surface of your skin and prickling against the pores.

“Why not?”

Maybe because you would be too much for him and scare him away? Maybe the fear of being too demanding in bed, of not being able to stop once he kisses you, lingers in your thoughts, making the idea of having him only once and never again infuriating.

“I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I’ll get you water and let you sneak away when the fireworks go off because I know you want to…even though you shouldn’t give a fuck about what your family thinks…but I would really like that kiss.”

Analyzing his features, you take in the sincerity reflected in the moss-green of his eyes. It’s a last-ditch effort to make sure something else isn’t hiding there, and you find yourself coming up short.

Slowly, you part your legs for him to stand between. His hands slide up your thighs tantalizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before pushing the fabric of your red sundress up to your waist. You try to ignore the way the cool air on your panties does little to quell the heat radiating from them. His hands wrap around your waist and a gasp heaves from your lips when he yanks you to him, your thighs brushing the sides of his thick waist.

One of the hands on your waist trails up to the side of your neck, gently tilting your head up, so you can look fully at him as his thumb traces the skin of your bottom lip.

“You better make it good,” you challenge, hoping your faux annoyance can mask the anticipation building in your gut.

He sees right through it and simply hums before he leans down to finally seal his lips against yours. He’s a big man, an overwhelming man, and you feel it in his kiss as his lips take every ounce of breath you have in your lungs. He tastes like the pound yellow cake that everyone got to before you could and a hint of beer and it’s the perfect combination that you want more of.

His hands are under your dress, brushing beneath your thighs for traction and pulling you impossibly closer to the point where you feel your clothed center brush against the zipper of his jeans. You dig your hands into the fabric of his shirt, twisting and silently commanding for him to give you more. You open your mouth to coax him and his tongue is wet and insistent against yours.

You can feel your resolve dissipating in the air, fizzling against the heat that radiates from your body and your self-control is walking on a tightrope, precariously and seconds away from falling. And once it’s gone, you’ll be a woman unhinged.

He yanks you to him again as if its not enough, harder this time with a growl in the back of his throat that makes you gasp into his mouth, then rolls his hips against yours and behind his zipper you feel him hard and bulging and angry and oh—

You pull away with a harsh breath, gasping for air and biting back a moan that gurgles in your throat when his mouth works its way down the skin of your neck. Your skin is sensitive, and it buzzes with the touch of his lips and invokes a fervent need so deep within you that you’re losing awareness of where you are. You’re lightheaded, brain in the fucking stratosphere and you have to lay down, you have to—

He’s guiding you onto your back before you can do it yourself and the cool counter is a balm against the skin of your exposed shoulders and back. He looms over you from his place between your legs, big and muscular and reeking of hunger.

“Toji,” you try to speak into the air, stifling a whimper at the sight of him stretching out your leg to rest on his shoulder.

One of his large hands caresses the canvas of your calf before you watch his lips kiss your chocolate skin. His rough scar scratches against you in the most delightful way as his mouth kisses up your calf, bends your leg to get closer, and then resumes his touch on the inside of your thigh. His face should be melting with the amount of heat emitting from between your legs, but he must relish in the burn because the second his tongue slides thick and wet against your clothed cunt, you whimper pathetically into the air.

You have just enough common sense to break from the desire to be fucked thoroughly to whisper.

“Toji, we can’t,” you swallow against the dryness in your throat. “Someone could see.”

You can feel the impatience on his body in waves but he has to listen to you. If your family were to walk in here right now to see their niece or cousin being eaten out like a gourmet meal, the Earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit,” he hisses, pulling you into his arms and carrying you out of the kitchen. You don’t care enough to tell him where to go; you’re too hot, too wet in your panties, and your need is twisting at the base of your spine in the most irritating way, begging to be soothed.

You hear the beginnings of fireworks being popped off in the backyard and your family is loud, thankfully so loud as Toji locks the door to the bathroom and drops you unceremoniously onto the counter. Though the metal of the faucet digs into the small of your back and you fall into the mirror as you clamber to get yourself in order, you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s on you again, all teeth and lips and sinful tongue in your mouth with equally sinful hands digging impatiently into the sides of your panties.

“Take them off,” you demand, practically whining and in less than a second you can only get one leg out before he’s sinking to his knees, eyes wild and shoulders heaving with untamed breaths.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. So damn pretty,” he whispers in reverence, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and the compliment makes your cunt throb in anticipation.

You can’t be sure if he’s talking to you or himself. Before you can breathe to calm yourself, it’s catching in your throat, hitching against a moan as his tongue licks a long wet stripe up the slit of your dripping cunt. His tongue parts your folds as if it’s the sea, savoring your essence and then sucking your clit into his mouth like it’s the cherry on top and you love it, whine at the feel, eyes crossing and rolling into the back of your head at the exquisite feeling.

He pulls away for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to regain control, and kisses the inside of your thigh before sliding two fingers up your dripping center, collecting your slick before beginning to rub circles on your clit. He’s mesmerized, and you take a moment to marvel at just how little of his green eyes are visible to you, his pupils are dilated with hunger and focused on the way your cunt moves with his fingers.

“Your bitch of an ex ever eat you out?”

You really don’t want to think about him right now, and you also don’t like the thought of someone feeling like they need to prove themselves to you.

But there’s a big man between your thighs who wants to unwrap you like candy. So you shrug, panting softly as you speak, “Every now and then.”

Toji scoffs, eyes seeming to darken like a forest at night.

“Every now and then,” he parrots, voice incredulous as if he’s heard the most insane thing ever, like he can’t believe it.

He increases the pressure on your clit harshly, causing you to buck against him, yelping in satisfied shock when he flicks your sensitive bud hard with his tongue.

“I’ll make you feel good, princess. Don’t you worry.”

The nickname doesn’t have the effect as before. No, this time you moan in response, your guts churning with satisfaction at the prospect of being worshiped.

Slowly the two fingers on your clit slide into you, testing the waters, gauging if you’re okay, and your jaw slackens at the feel of the stretch. Fingering is an art, an act that requires patience and skill. You have to know the right pace, when to curl, how to know a woman’s body to determine what she wants. It’s glorious when it’s done right.

And god, does Toji do it right.

He’s thorough and fluid in his strokes, using the tempo of your moans to curl at just the right time and sucking and licking your clit like he’s ravenous and your head is falling back into the space between your shoulder blades, eyes wide with disbelief as you stare at the ceiling.

The fireworks are consistent outside, popping off every second and it’s loud enough that you have the courage to voice how Toji is making you feel.

“Every now and then,” he hisses again to himself, angry and curling his fingers a little harder. You jerk against him, whimpering like a fool when you feel his tongue flick your clit harder as a reward. “He’s so fucking stupid. You taste so good, it’s unbelievable.”

He’s curling more now, brushing against that spongy wall that zings heat to your belly. Your insides churn, a molten heat popping to splatter against the base of your spine, pleasure coaxing you to reach that precipice that will let you fall apart.

Vaguely you hear him whispering words into the skin of your thighs that you can’t decipher, the thrumming in your ears too loud to hear anything else beyond the fireworks outside, your escalating moans, and the obscene sounds of him slurping you up. The muscles in your thighs begin to tighten, your fingers are sweaty as they slide against the cool marble of the bathroom counter, and you dig your wedges into the muscles of his back, white panties dangling off one ankle. He’s so good, so thorough and your breath is hitching, choking on a moan.

“There you go princess, cum all over my fingers. Get me nice and messy.”

His deep words are accompanied by a sharp bend of his fingers and you’re cumming with a shout, rejoicing in the hot pleasure that puddles along your bones. It’s abrupt and overwhelming, pulling a sharp current down your body that makes your back arch until it bumps into the sink behind you. He’s groaning from his place between your legs, still pumping his fingers and licking your clit to collect as much of your slick as he can.

By the time you look down at him, you’re still catching your breath, your thighs tremble from the sudden chill injected into your muscles. You catch Toji just in time to watch him begin to slip his two dripping fingers into his mouth, but you snatch his wrist, riding off the high of your orgasm to slip his digits into your mouth instead. Thin rings of green widen in surprise and you savor the way his cheeks darken as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

“You’re unreal,” he gulps when you pop his fingers out of your mouth.

You shrug, not willing to show him just how powerful you feel, and wrap your legs around his waist, panties still caught on the buckle of one of your wedges.

“I’m letting you be nice to me, remember? So what’s next?”

With a harsh pull, he stumbles closer to you, his hands slamming against the marble counter on either side of your waist. His breath hitches as you hastily undo his belt, eyes widening as he takes in the way you leer up at him.

“You got me a drink, defended my honor from my bitchy aunt, asked me about my family, ate my pussy…you wanna fuck me now?”

“I—” he starts, caught off guard by your forwardness.

“You want to bend me over this counter, make me look in the mirror while I take your cock? Smack my ass and make me beg for you to fill me up?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Toji chokes on a nervous laugh, hissing when your fingers graze the sensitive skin above his belt.

“Is that a problem?”

The hair of his happy trail is faint and dark just like the hair on his head, and your touch makes his stomach bunch in sensation. He shakes his head in response and you want to laugh so bad at the sight of him struggling to swallow. You haven’t done anything to the man, but he’s sensitive to your touch, and that makes the blood in your veins sing.

“If you’re letting me have you, you can have it however you want.”

Arousal hums to life between your legs, and you can’t help but be turned on at how much he’s giving you. You want him now and while the prospect of being fucked over the counter was what you had hoped, if your family comes in and hears you taking it like a champ, you’ll never show your face again.

So when the door to your truck’s backseat closes, you’re climbing back on his lap, relaxing further into him with the knowledge that you can be as noisy as you want. Your uncle has a seven-month supply of fireworks and land in the middle of nowhere, Hennessey, and classics booming from his sound system… it’s going to be loud for a very long time.

You’re running on your own current of desire at this point, pawing at his shirt so he can finally yank it off his shoulders and you’re drooling. He’s glorious and you don’t hesitate to rub your hands down firm pectorals, between the abs on his torso, and along the musculature of his Adonis belt. He’s cut like a marble statue, something that takes a painstaking process to hammer and smooth over until the result is almost—

“Let me take you out,” he suddenly suggests, voice gravelly with want but insistent.

Huh?

You’re immediately puzzled, eyebrows dipping into a furrow as you try to decipher his words. His hair is wild, black strands splintering and bushy but still giving you a gateway to his eyes and you see that he’s completely serious.

“On…a date?” A lift of his thin eyebrow in reply and the reality of him actually showing interest flags dangerously against your desire to ride him into oblivion. “Just the dopamine talking, I’m sure,” you say, hoping to dismiss the idea. You hadn’t expected him to actually…want to take you out. You can’t think about that right now because your head is too thick with hunger to try and have a conversation.

He hums, low and dangerous, a hand brushing the skin above your clit and you’re reminded of just how wet you still are from his sloppy tongue minutes before.

“You’re the only one here that’s cum, princess. I’m being serious.”

“It’ll pass,” you reply immediately, licking into his mouth to shut him up.

Thankfully he doesn’t try to interject because you don’t have time to talk right now—you don’t want to. You don’t know Toji, not well enough. While tonight has been one of the most relaxed evenings you’ve spent with a man in a long time, you’re unsure if he genuinely wants you or if he’s merely carried away by the thrill of being with a woman.

He tried to come onto you the minute he laid eyes on you, tried to kiss you after a few hours, and pocketed your panties even though you pretended to be oblivious. You just don’t know. If you had a pretty girl in your lap, you would probably say the same things. Ask her on a date, make her feel wanted so she’s more giving when you slide her panties off.

It’ll pass.

And that’s what you tell yourself when you feel his large hands palm your ass beneath your sundress. You are teeth against him, nipping his tongue, biting the skin of his jaw, the meat of his neck, and the sharp groan that you pull from him in response makes you drip like a bitch in heat against his jeans.

“Take off your pants,” you whisper to him sharply, turning around and leaning over the center console to fish a condom from inside. You had discovered them months ago, and they should have been more than enough for you to dump your ex then.

“Shit,” you hear Toji hiss from behind you before your ass stings from his slap against it. You yelp, jumping from the contact and you hope he can see your cunt pulse from between your thighs in response. “Hurry up, baby.”

When you face him again, you freeze, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. As you take him in, he snatches the condom from your hand and unfurls it on his cock.

Surprisingly trimmed with dark hair, he’s thick—not enough to be painful—but enough to enjoy the stretch so you can ride him until he flatlines and enjoy the ache in your thighs in the morning. It’s perfect; pale with a red tip that leaks into the tip of the condom, a vein along the side that you can’t lick without tasting latex. It’s a shame.

He throws you that devilish smirk, eyes twinkling in pride before he taps his thigh and beckons you like the best ride at the carnival.

“Hop on, princess.”

Your fingers grip the hair at his nape when you feel him inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that you have to breathe through, and the feel of his hands affectionately stroking your back catches you off guard. You don’t hate it; in fact, you want to lean into it, but you don’t want to give him any ammunition for something you aren’t sure about. So you slide down to the hilt and listen to Toji curse sharply through the sudden heat of you before you start a steady rhythm that throws him off.

Within seconds, you increase your pace, riding him with an intensity that makes the air in your throat catch and drag along the sides. He’s got a satisfying curve to him that grazes those magical spots within you to make the grip on his nape tighten like a vice. Your head is foggy with an overpowering mist that makes your mouth loose and your inhibitions low.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, pulling you out of the delirium you were basking in to focus on him. His jaw is relaxed, hot air puffing from between an open mouth and onto the skin of your neck, a few strands of his hair stick to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks and there’s a slight furrow to his thin eyebrows as if he’s trying to concentrate.

You’re giddy with desire. “Let me guess,” you tease, lips brushing against his. “Am I tight?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, eyelids hooded and upper cheeks darkening with a blush that spreads down his neck.

“Am I nice and hot?”

“Yes, fuck yes, baby.”

It’s meant to tease, because every man that has ever slid inside of you in the past says the same shit, but to hear it from him brings a strange sense of satisfaction that you find yourself slanting your lips against his. He still tastes like the yellow cake that you never got, but the flavor is intertwined with the remnants of your essence that still lingers on his tongue that dances with yours.

You plant your knees harder into the seat on each side of him, use your muscles to bear down and give you more control, and then you roll your hips, guiding him in and out in a tantalizing dance that elicits groans from him and makes him roll his head back against the headrest.

“Let me take you out,” he gasps into the air and you refuse to answer him—you can’t. It’s harder now to believe his sincerity because he’s delirious with lust. “Answer me.”

You growl softly and yank your hands from his hair to push down the straps of your sundress. You’re not wearing a bra, and he cusses like he just stubbed his toe as he watches your breasts spill free.

“Stop talking,” you whisper and yank his head forward, beckoning him to you and he catches on quickly, licking and sucking a nipple before pulling it into his mouth. The sensation makes you shudder, a gentle pleasure that your cunt appreciates and you pick up your pace on him again. “Stop asking me. Just let me fuck you.”

He bites down in retaliation to pull a squeak from you and licks over the sting in a half-assed apology. When you look down, his gaze is illuminated by the streetlights, a harsh glare that showcases his annoyance with your deflection, but his eyes droop when you squeeze around him in response.

You’re stuffed full of him, stretching along the sides, punching the air out of your throat with each bounce on his cock and your legs begin to burn with the build-up of exertion. Your nipples are wet and sensitive against his taste buds as he teases each peak into his hot mouth and it helps to mix that pot of pleasure in your stomach to life again.

You can feel it, like a crescendo of waves crashing against a dock, but the waves are coming in quicker and more turbulent with every moan and cry that falls from your lips. You push him off of your chest, dig your fingers into his shoulders for more leverage so you can ride his cock like you have nothing left to lose.

His chest is blooming red, covered in a light sheen of sweat that dips between his pectorals and pools in his collarbones. Your bun of braids came loose when he was eating you out in the bathroom, and now some are heavy on your skin with sweat and plaster over your shoulders and between your sternum and you’re hot and sweaty and trying so hard to reign it in.

He doesn’t buck up into you and you’re unsure if it’s due to laziness or the fact that he simply wants to watch you while he brings himself closer to climax. You hope it’s the latter.

“Do you like this?” you pant into his mouth and nip his bottom lip. “You can tell me, you know. Be a good boy and tell me just how I’m making you feel.”

He groans and lands another smack to your ass that makes you gasp and arch further into him. It's the right amount of pain that makes your pussy pulse in response, the right amount of manhandling that can take you higher in a second.

“You’re a natural, princess. You ever ride him like this?”

You shake your head and he smacks your ass again, harder this time and digs his fingertips into the flesh to let the sting linger. It's so good, and you can't help the whine that you puff against his lips as he smirks up at you with a proud disposition.

“He couldn’t handle it. Probably why he cheated wasn’t it? You were too much for him. You know how you like it and he couldn’t deliver.”

You don’t answer him, but he’s right. He’s so right. He couldn’t stand it when you took control, hated when you asked him to do something that didn’t result in him being dominant, hated when he couldn’t even eat pussy without you having to ask.

The feel of his fingers on your clit makes you jump and you poke your fingers into his nape again and pick up your pace, panting and moaning like you’re running a marathon as the pleasure rocks inside of you like a pendulum.

“Oh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whisper, stomach burning.

You’re fluttering around him—pulsing and clenching and gushing over the thickest cock you’ve ever had and it’s glorious, you’re in fucking heaven.

The streetlight shines faintly into your truck, painting half of Toji’s face. He’s beautiful; that same annoying flicker of desire that captivated you when his green eyes met yours hours ago glimmers thin and dilated.

There’s a ruggedness to him that exudes masculinity, but glimpses into the depths of his eyes reveal a tender vulnerability that makes you wonder how soft he could be if he allowed you to get close enough.

The thought makes your cunt tighten around him, your thighs tense and fill with lactic acid and his fingers on your clit are unceasing, rubbing in a precise rhythm that makes you hiccup on a moan of incredulity. The hand not occupied with your clit is reclined across the headrest behind him and it makes him look unbearably sexy.

“I’ve never had a woman ride me like this,” he whispers, and you smile into his mouth, your kiss messy as you swallow down his compliment. He yanks you away and breathes that same insufferable ask against your lips.

“Let me take you out.” He rubs your clit faster, using the way you tighten around him as a guide to your pleasure, and his hand leaves the headrest to dig into the meat of your ass. “One chance. One dinner. I’ll give you what you deserve, whatever you want, princess. I promise just—”

“Stop it,” you whine and fight the burning sensation in your eyes. You’re so close, so fucking close and the storm inside of you is out of control but he won’t stop fucking talking. Won’t stop being so damn nice even though his cock is rearranging your guts in the nastiest way. You grip his hair and pull him closer to you so there’s no space between you to breathe. “Stop talking. Stop asking. Make yourself useful and make me cum.”

Thankfully he does. He scowls up at you behind the curtain of his hair but pinches your clit and you squeal, rolling your hips, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The windows have already fogged up, the truck rocks with your movements, and you are consumed with a blissful incoherence that forces you to surrender and let your walls crumble.

Your thighs burn, your dress clings to your sweaty body, and the stimulation on your clit becomes almost unbearable as you whine with the need to cum. He hisses loudly into the car, bares his teeth for a second, and then his eyes roll before he’s slack-jawed and panting into stuffy air, a current of groans beneath.

“That’s it, Toji,” you gasp, voice strained as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm that threatens to overwhelm you. “Be nice to me just like you said and give me everything like the good boy you are.”

The hand not on your clit slips against the sweat on your hips, and you lick up the side of his neck, savoring the salt taste of his perspiration on his smooth skin, just in time to hear him. It’s faint and low, practically a whisper but he chants--

‘Fuck yes, fuck yes. So fucking good. Ride me, sweetheart.’

It’s tilted in a whine, pathetically desperate, but the sound of him does the trick because the flick of his fingers on your clit makes the biggest wave of pleasure crash over you.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you’re cumming, you simply yank his head back from the sudden force, tilt your head up to the ceiling and cum with an exhausted and wrung out ‘fuck!’ that you’re sure your uncle’s neighbors will hear a mile down the road. You’re dumbfounded with pleasure, dizzy with it and your belly is hot and simmering as you gasp and whimper at just how good it feels.

He’s laying you back on the seat before you can catch your breath. You’re still coming down, still moaning to catch up but his large hands are under your knees and bending them towards your chest to chase his own orgasm. The edge of the seat digs into the crevice of your spine, and your hand flies out to smack against the back of the driver’s seat so you don’t fall but it slips with sweat, is hard to hold onto and you can hardly focus with everything that’s going on.

His mouth is on you, stealing your breath that you still can’t control, swallowing your moans as he fucks you with a ferocity that pulls your soul from your body. He pulls away with a deep moan and stares down at you with a look that makes you anxious—like he wants to see you again, like he wants to come to another cookout with your rowdy family if it means he can bother you some more—like he really likes you.

You know he’s going to try and say something that you may not be able to talk yourself out of, so you take the intense furrow in his eyebrows and the stuttering of his hips as a cue.

“You gonna cum?” you purr up at him, moaning weakly from the harsh thrusts that stroke you into overstimulation.

“Yes,” he answers without fail, eyes locked on yours. “Yes, I’m gonna cum. Fuck—”

Reaching up, you cup his cheek, unsure why but feeling an inexplicable need, and the words that fall from your lips help him across the finish line.

“Cum inside me, Toji. Take what you want and fill me up.”

His eyes widen before they roll closed and he’s slamming against you three times hard and rough before the deepest moan you’ve ever heard slips past his lips. He pants heavily stuttering tiny thrusts into you as he comes down, the tips of his hair drip a few drops of sweat onto your neck before he lowers himself to rest on top of you. He’s too big for the seat and his knee digs into the floor of the truck to maintain his balance. His hot breath washes over your neck, slowly calming down, and in your daze, you realize that you’re holding onto his shoulders.

The hard lines of Toji that you noted when you first saw him now feel gentle against you.

He rumbles your name into your neck and you’re cutting him off before the dopamine can speak for him.

“We should get back inside before someone finally notices that we’ve been gone.” He abruptly lifts to look down at you, annoyance etched on his devastatingly handsome face. He wants to argue, you can taste it, but your fear wins. “My bitchy aunt has been at me all night, the last thing I need is her snooping.”

He’s quiet still, the edge of his lips curling into a dissatisfied frown. It stretches his scar in a way that takes away from the beauty of his face. Makes him look more alien and you have to pull your gaze from him. But he doesn’t argue like you think he would. He doesn’t speak or try to talk back or voice how annoyed he is.

He slowly pulls out of you and you immediately miss the feeling, ties off the condom, and pulls you up tenderly from the seat. Your skin is sticky and the truck reeks of sex. The high has worn off and all that remains is the overwhelming unease that rises like bile in the back of your throat.

When you both are finally dressed and creeping out of the backseat, the cool air is a welcome feel to your overheated skin. It washes away your trepidation, if only for a moment. Toji looms over you, tall like a bear that you desperately want to sink your embrace back into, but he still doesn’t speak, and the crease of annoyance between his brows doesn’t leave. He should hold onto it. It will help him get over you.

“Do you mind getting my purse from inside the house? I don’t want to go back inside just yet and I need to check my phone.”

Impatience emanates from his every pore, yet you can sense his anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. But he still doesn’t fight and makes his way back inside without a word.

You lied.

Your purse is in the front seat of your car—you threw it up there when you both snuck into the vehicle in the first place, but his attention was too busy trying to feel you up than pay attention to the satchel hanging off your shoulder.

Once you see the front door close, you get into the front seat, start your car, and drive away without a second thought. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as the temptation to turn back tugs at you.

It may not be right to leave without saying goodbye, and lying to him has left a bitter taste in your mouth. Your family is too occupied with the fireworks and each other’s company to really notice your absence anyway, and you’re sure they’ll have no problem trying to distract Toji when he realizes that you’re gone.

The grip on the wheel doesn’t lessen, but you roll down the windows and let the evening July air wash away some of the sex that still lingers on the seats.

***

“So you did fuck him,” your cousin snickers over the speaker of your phone a week later.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re knee-deep in your wash day routine. It took you all day to take out your braids and the clear shower cap on your head traps the deep conditioner inside. You wipe away some of the excess near your ear.

You have Chinese waiting to be delivered, and you’re ready to finish your routine so you can go to bed. Your eyes are glued to your television playing some sort of nature documentary but your attention is elsewhere, specifically on trying to worm your way out of this conversation with your cousin. She’s called you every single day since the 4th and she’s done nothing but make you feel guilty about your abrupt departure.

As you expected, your family didn’t really notice your absence. But when Toji asked your cousin for your purse and then realized you had lied, he sulked in a lawn chair for the rest of the night before Shiu drove him home.

“Yes, I fucked him. So what?”

“Soooo do something about it. Fuck him again? He lives in the same city as you and is here indefinitely. Make a move—”

“It was a nice night, but he was already trying to flirt with me as soon as he saw me and I still entertained him and fucked him and—I shouldn’t have done that…I should have waited, maybe tested the waters more. He only tried to ask me out because he was horny as hell.”

She’s quiet on the other line, and you look up at the ceiling in exasperation because you can feel her annoying logic rev up before she fires away.

“So you’re just scared? Your ex cheated on you because he was a spineless pissy boy who slithered away because you didn’t take his shit. That’s not a reflection of you, at all. I know you like to have it all figured out before you make a decision, but not everything works out that way. Toji saw a fine ass black woman who talks her shit and he made a move. He’s a nice guy...a little rough around the edges, but truly…a nice guy. Someone for you.”

James Attenborough elegantly voices something about the cuttlefish on the screen while you try to contemplate what to say. She’s right. You hate that she’s right. It’s why you two are so close but still you retort in the best way you know how.

“Girl, fuck you.”

Her raucous laugh vibrates over the speaker in delight and you snort and roll your eyes when the doorbell cuts you off. The prospect of your Chinese food makes your mouth water and you’re rushing to the door.

Only it’s not your Chinese food at the doorstep, it’s Toji Fushiguro. Toji Fushiguro who is protected from the rain under the overhang of your apartment door with one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other clutching a container. The annoyed look that you last saw on his face is gone, replaced by a neutral and bored look that seems natural for him, even though his eyes don’t convey that specific emotion. Those green eyes are reminiscent of your uncle’s well-maintained lawn as they look down at you with a nervous glint.

“Toji,” you breathe in disbelief. “How did you get my address…”

Your cousin squawks on the other line and swallows a giggle. “I’m gonna go—”

“Your cousin finally gave it to me.,” he replies simply and gestures down to the phone in your tight grip. “I’ve been trying to get it since you fucking left.”

“Damn, thanks?!” she barks at him. “Lemme get out of here, I’m getting another call anyway. Bye!”

You’re going to kill her. Slowly. Painfully and maybe in front of Shiu to get a few tears out of him if you’re feeling particularly evil.

You know she’s right about Toji, but you can’t do this. You shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place and you should have thought of a backup plan on the off chance that your cousin was going to be annoying and nosy as hell.

You ignore his intense and heavy gaze, shifting in discomfort, scratch the back of your neck, and blanch in horror when your fingers brush the edge of your shower cap. You’re wearing a large t-shirt, your feet are bare and your head is covered in a shower cap with deep conditioner leaking from the sides; a stark contrast from the calm and collected woman who snapped at him all day a week ago. Mortification washes over you in a heavy wave, drowning your mantra of not giving a fuck about a man’s opinion, and you step back to grab the door.

“Listen…I’m waiting for food and then I have to get ready for work in the morning. So you need—”

“You have time to spare then,” he cuts off and walks past you. You round on him, indignant in your gaze.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! Get out, Toji!”

“You want me to leave? Hmm?” he asks, goading you like you don’t know if you’re sure.

You’re not sure, but—“Yes, goddammit! I shouldn’t have left but I don’t do this sort of thing! The moment you met me, you only wanted to get in my pants. And that makes you trying to ask me out while your cock is inside of me, a lot harder to believe!”

He firmly places the container in his hands on your kitchen counter, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and gives you a look that either makes you want to melt into him or slap it off his face.

“Listen—”

You’re on the defensive now, backed into a corner and ready to pull every card you have to just make him go away. “You here for a quick fuck then? Because you got me to let my guard down and because we had such a steamy time in the backseat of my truck, you thought, what? You could just show up and bend me over my couch?”

That flicker of irritation is back on his face and it crinkles the edges of his eyes, makes him look nasty and hostile.

“Fuck, will you stop—”

“Wanna have a little ‘situationship’ while you get acquainted with your new life here? Have me get nice and comfortable and as soon as I ask for something more, you’re jumping ship. Sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?”

A sharp growl leaves his throat and he glares.

“Girl—” he starts and immediately stops, eyes wide as saucers at the venomous gaze that you shoot his way. There it is, a hint of a name to make you feel small and insignificant. It reminds you of your parents when you used to talk back and they slid the name to you in a warning to stop talking. You hate it and it stings that you have to hear it from him.

“Get out,” you bark, seething with a rage that brings a sting to your eyes.

He throws up his hands in frustration, looming like a bear from his place in your kitchen. “Will you just stop it!”

“I said—”

“Oh my fucking god—I like you!”

His admission catches you off guard, cutting through your anger, and you stare at him in astonishment. His face is red with embarrassment, eyes trained up at the ceiling as if asking the gods to give him patience. He takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze from across the kitchen.

“You don’t do this sort of thing?” he asks, gesturing between the two of you. You can’t find the words to respond, still too shocked, so you simply nod.

“What sort of thing is that? Flirting with you because you looked like the sexiest little thing in that backyard and I wanted your attention?” He’s annoyed, deep voice razor sharp as he speaks, but you don’t miss the step he takes closer to you.

“Me trying to make you feel better because your family is judgmental? Teaching me about the food you like because I’m not from here?”

He’s closer now and the air is thin again just like that night a week ago.

“Helping me win that little card game?” It’s spades, but you’re too lightheaded with how close he is to correct him. “Telling me about your family? What sort of thing is that? Hmm? Tell me.”

You don’t have a retort. You’re too stunned to speak even though you refuse to let the annoyed expression on your face vanish. You want to hold onto what little shreds of defiance you have left.

“You aren’t mean. You don’t tolerate bullshit, you don’t fuck around, and you put people in their place. You refuse to settle for less, and I already told you that’s what I like in a woman…And I like you.”

What do you even say? You never expected to see him again, and your mind is muddled as if you’re submerged in water. Your heart feels too big in your chest, your body too hot and sweaty and you’re nervous. He’s angry with his confession, almost annoyed and you’re beginning to realize that it is an emotion that’s second nature to him even if it’s not as intense as you think it is.

“Is that right?” you can’t help but test him, lifting a brow. You have to crane your neck just a little to look up at him.

He scoffs, the crease in his eyebrows smooths out and the scar on his lips twitches.

“Yea, that's fucking right. So…” he takes one more step closer and his body is brushing against yours. He smells mildly of toothpaste and bergamot from another brand of cheap cologne and the combination makes you weak in the knees. “Let me take you out.”

It’s the same demand that you’ve heard so many times now, but this time, it feels more serious, more meaningful with a hint of desperation. In the kitchen light, you can see just how silky his raven locks are and you grip your phone and the fabric of your t-shirt to resist the urge to run your hands through them.

“I’m listening,” you jest with a practiced air.

That wicked smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, scar adding a devilish flair to his features, and your stomach burns with the realization that he’s too cocky for his own good, and you’ve unfortunately grown to like it.

“Shiu has tickets for something here called…football? He’s taking your cousin and has two extra tickets. Come with me and show me how to win.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your mouth and your stomach flips at the genuine confusion on his face. “We don’t participate in the game. We watch it. But it’s fun.”

“All the more reason for you to come with me.”

“I…”

It’s a compelling argument, all of it is. And you want to, you really want to give this a shot and just be vulnerable for once. Because Toji seems like the kind of man who would let you be just who you are and would never make you feel lesser than about it.

The feel of his large hands cupping your cheeks pulls you out of your thoughts, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are mesmerizing, like the color of pine trees right before the sun sets and you feel yourself weakening completely.

“One date, princess.”

The deep timbre of his voice does little to help you and it’s worse because it’s just how he fucking talks. You’re not a royal, and you don’t have land, lots of money, or power, but you can tolerate ‘princess’ if it’s coming from his mouth.

Just one date. You deserve it. You’ve earned the reward.

You wave away his hands from your face just so you can breathe a little easier. He chuckles but gives you your space, and makes his way to the door that you usher him towards.

“Fine. Make sure you bring cash because it’s easier at the concession stands. I want a pretzel…and a hot dog.”

He snickers as he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring most of his face except for the ethereal glow of his eyes. His teeth shine from his bright smile and you roll your eyes in response before watching him open your door.

“Toji?” you call, your voice softer…apprehensive.

He turns around to watch you shuffle to him, your feet and legs cold against the chill from the open door. You hand him your phone wordlessly and he takes the hint to insert his number. When he’s finished, you open your mouth to speak, lips shaping words that won’t come out—words you want to say. But you can’t. Not yet. Maybe one day.

For now, you throw him an annoyed eyebrow lift and grumble. “Parking is a real bitch, so pick me up early.”

You avert your gaze, frustrated at yourself for sounding so mean as usual. Because that’s just who you are. The bitter, mean—

A finger beneath your chin lifts your gaze to him and he kisses you full on the mouth, slow and reassuring, minty breath sliding into your mouth when he nips your bottom lip. The self-deprecating voice in your head finally quiets, smothered by a pillow held down by his scarred hands.

When he pulls away, that stupid smirk is on his face, but it’s not as teasing, and your heart does something weird in your chest that makes you swallow hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies finally to your demand.

You watch his eyes take in your form from head to toe before he kisses you quickly once more and ducks into the rain.

When you finally get your Chinese and place it on the counter to dig in, your eyes land on the container that was in Toji’s hands from earlier.

You peek inside, and your heart does that weird thing again in your chest when you see a heaping slice of the yellow cake that you never got to have a week ago.

Thanks for reading! You can find the sequel here!

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laniluvsuu · 8 months

Text

Pony.

Southern Ony&Southern Eren x Blackfemreader!

Warnings: smut!!! Threesome, Creampie, Oral (M. Receiving), Riding. Language, Slapping/Spanking. Choking/neck gripping. Maybe some misspelled words. I think that’s it srry if I missed anything😣!

You felt eyes on you, eyes to your right to be exact. They’ve been looking at you this whole time, you’ve made eye contact once or twice.

“You boys know it’s rude to stare?” You said turning your head and meeting the eyes once again. Two sets, one pair was dark brown the other was emerald.

“Our fault pretty. It’s sure as hell hard not to when you look so gorgeous.” The man directly next to you said, while the one in the back nodded his head in agreement as he fixed his hat and placed his drink back down on the counter.

“I’m Eren.” He said with a smirk on his face, placing his hand out for you to shake. Eren was fine. With his long shoulder length dark brown hair, his emerald green eyes that never left your face, and the many tattoos that covered his arms.

“Hi Eren, im Y/N.” You said placing your hand into his to shake it, he didn’t shake your hand just held it while looking you in your eyes. There was a deep chuckle before you could get another word out and it was from the other man. He was now moving to the other side of you.

“Let’s not be selfish Eren. Im Onyankopon, but you can call me Ony.” He said as he took a seat next to you with his back facing the counter and his legs spread out while he lifted his hand up to you with a soft smirk. Ony looked good almost too good, with his cornrows, and his mustache and goatee combo that complimented his face. His gold nose ring that decorated his right nostril, the tattoos all over his arms and hands.

“Well then Ony, Eren. What y’all got planned for the night?” You said after shaking Erens hand and now placing your hand into Onys, waiting for their answer.

“You tell us Mama.” Ony said moving his head to lay on his shoulder, looking at the side of your face while holding your hand in his.

“Mmm..I wanted to give the bull a ride before the night was over.” You said reaching your free hand over to Eren’s head to grab his hat and place it on your head. Eren smirked at your actions, and then gave Ony a knowing look when the bull was brought up.

“Oh? We’ll make sure you get a ride before the night ends pumpkin.”

And they sure as hell did, took them back to your apartment and now you’re bouncing up and down on Onys dick your back facing his chest while Eren was standing infront of you, his dick touching your throat, all you could see was his ink covered chest and pelvis.

“Oh yeah darlin, just like that all the way down.” Eren groaned out as he let his blunt sit in his mouth as he moved his hands to the back of your head pushing you all the way down, your nose meeting with his pelvis. You gripped onto Onys legs beneath you as you stopped your movements on his dick and focused on Eren as tears spilled out of your eyes.

“Don’t stop, you know better.” Ony said as he slapped your ass and moved his hands to your waist moving you up and down. His thumbs pushing into your dermal piercings making you squeal out around Erens dick.

“Ohhh my god. F—fuck!!” You yelled out as soon as Eren let you go, you rested you head on Erens thigh and kept your hand stroking his dick while Ony fucked up into you, and moved his hand up to mess with your clit. “Nope mama. Head up. Don’t fucking drop your hat.” Ony said reaching his hand up to grip on your neck and force you to look up at Eren. Since you wanted to play with hats so bad earlier Onys making you wear his hat until y’all are done.

“Ouuhh..I’m g—gonna cum again!” You cried out to them feeling your lower stomach get hotter and that knot tightening, Eren moved his hand down to grip your face, and force you to look him in the eyes, he also passed the blunt that was once in his mouth into Onys hand that was once around your neck.

“You gonna cum for us babygirl?” He said as he tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes while he looked down at you, he grabbed his dick and tapped his tip on your lips twice. “You look so fucking gorgeous bouncing on his dick with my dick in your face. You’re such a fucking slut.” Eren groaned out at the sight below him.

“S-she’s so fucking tight. O-oh fuck!” Ony said as he looked down at where you two were connected, your pussy was practically drooling all over his dick, squeezing him so hard it felt like you were tryna milk him dry. The white ring around his dick from your pussy made him feel dizzy.

“O-ohh..she’s fucking creaming on my shit. Holy fuck. I’m gonna cum.” Ony said as he threw his head back, moving your hips harder and faster chasing his climax once he felt the coil in his stomach get tighter and hotter.

“You heard him babydoll, he’s gonna cum where you want it?” Eren said as he stroked his dick still looking at your face, smiling once he heard you moan out. “I-insidee…! Daddy please! Mmph!” Eren quickly put his dick back in your mouth before groaning at the feeling, squeezing his eyes shut once you moaned around his dick.

“You heard babygirl Ony, fill her pussy up while I work on her mouth.”

#xblackreader #aot x black reader #black reader #they’re so fine #black writers #anime x black!reader #aot smut #eren x black fem!reader #anime x black reader #aot onyankopon #ony x black reader #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren smut #ony smut

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selfishdoll · 5 months

Text

━━ ❛c’mon baby, let the camera see how pretty you are for me...❜ ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒

NO LOOKING AWAY ft. HANGE ZOE

୨୧ SUMMARY ━━ your lovely significant other bought some fun glasses & can not wait to try it out with you!

୨୧ AUTHOR’S NOTE ━━ hange with a dick has been on my mind for a HOT MINUTE. and they just seem like the type to record sex for.. scientific purposes. as always please excuse any typos & grammar mistakes <3

The cold air circulated the room, emitting a shiver from you each time it licked at your barely covered skin. Your hand grasped the blanket strewn across you lazily, pulling it up higher whilst your eyes were glued to your phone. You were mindlessly scrolling, enjoying the random book a friend of your’s recommended.

That was until you heard hurried footsteps heading in your direction.

The familiar sound caused a sweet smile to pull your lips, shutting off your phone and placing it to the side. You looked up in time to spot your partner rushing into the living room, cloaked in a simple black t-shirt and sweats. The smile on their face was breath taking, eyes gleaming under the glasses perfectly perched on their broad nose.

“[Name]!” The excitement wasn’t only clear on their features but voice as well, pitch rising as they approached you. Without a second thought they were climbing onto the couch, resting in your lap with their hands settling on your shoulders. You weren’t given a moment to complain about the sudden weight since Hange leaned closer, “Notice anything different about me?”

You blinked slowly, gaze dancing about their form in search of something different. You’ve been with Hange for about two years now, so you were sure you would have noticed just about anything.

Except.. you didn’t. Not a thing looked different, out of place,— nothing.

You slowly shook your head, lips pursed just a tad. “No baby, I don’t see anything different.” You watched as their eyebrows pushed together, a subtle pout even forming. Wordlessly, they obnoxiously tapped the stem of their glasses— causing your gaze to click to them. Your eyes slowly widened, finally noticing what was different.

The usual color of their glasses was a chocolate brown, which you believed reflected perfectly off their olive colored skin. But now, they were black; sleek with curly white writing on the right stem.

You smiled, reaching over and playfully poking the edge of the rim. “They’re very nice, where’d you get these?— also can you get up?” You huffed softly, hips rising just a bit to hopefully elevate the pressure. Hange unfortunately didn’t move, even getting a bit closer. You complained softly, hands falling to their waist in an attempt to push them off— only for their much larger hands to grab your wrists.

“These are special glasses..” Hange drawled, cold nose brushing your own the closer they got. You huffed softly, eyebrows pushing together as you gave your best attempt at an annoyed glare.

“How so?”

Their grin deepened, releasing a hand of yours to shove into their pocket. You watched as they snatched their phone out, showcasing the screen to you. You pulled back a bit and squinted, confusion settling in your form. That was until you quickly realized you weren’t just looking at your face, but instead your face— from Hange’s point of view.

You blinked wildly, eyes tearing away to glance at them. “The glasses have a camera in them?”

“Yep!” They spoke, excitement hugging their words. Hange pulled back to straddle your waist properly, eyes tracing down your form not so subtly. “Everything I see, the camera catches..” They spoke slowly, tapping their finger against the glasses before directing your attention back to the phone

“—which I can then, save on my phone. Cool, isn’t it?”

“Very cool..” You breathed softly the moment your eyes flicked back to their face, catching the far too familiar look they were giving you. So that’s why they were so excited, you thought— shivering the moment their hips rolled. The growing bulge inside their sweats brushed across your thin blanket, the friction causing you to feel incredibly warm beneath your skin.

“How about we test them out? I wanna see how long they last,” They rose from your form while grabbing you by the thighs, lifting you before sitting down onto the couch— manually wrapping your legs around their waist. “—if the glasses can pick up every angle,” Hange then peeled the blanket from your body, hands gliding across your form covered by a thin tank top and black Juicy Couture shorts. “— every shiver, every twitch..” They crawled over your body, now hovering with their hands sinking into the pillow under your head.

“—every sound.. You’ll indulge in my little experiment, right my love?”

How could you say no? With those dark eyes drawing you in, clear excitement and want glittering inside them. Your tongue brushed your bottom lip, hands rising to place onto their strong arms. “Mmhm.. I would love to.”

The smile they flashed you was far too sweet, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep kiss. Lips locked, moving slow as your gentle commingled breaths entered the other’s mouth. Your breathing hitched however the moment their hips rolled forward, allowing you to fully feel their bulge brush across your barely clothed cunt.

Hange pulled away for a split moment to breathe before devouring you in another kiss, tongue slinking into your mouth and coating the cavern in their saliva. Your tongues tangled and played, your lover gently sucking on your wet muscle to hear your breath quicken once again.

Keeping you focused with their kisses for a moment, a hand lowered to your neck, thumb brushing across your throat whilst holding the side in their palm. Hange pulled away, blinking and slowly licking away the string that connected the two of you. “Oh, I can’t wait to look back on this.” They breathed heavily, so, so excited.

Their hand rose from your neck to adjust the glasses, assuring they got your perfect form laid out on the couch. Hange’s hands ghosted your body, finally finding purchase on your hips just below your shirt. Carefully they plucked the thin fabric from your body, revealing your chest.

You were all too aware of the focused eyes on you, and even more so of the camera. Your hands spread and gripped the cushions the moment Hange leaned down, gasping as their wet lips caressed your breasts. “Hange..” You spoke softly, feeling their hand grab one of your boobs; thumb rising to roll against your hardening bud.

At the mention of their name Hange’s face was pulling away from your chest, head tilted as their eyes bored into your own. An intense stare you couldn’t return, eyes fluttering shut as they continued the gentle ministrations upon your chest. Such an act caused a sound of disapproval to leave your lover’s throat.

“C’mon [Name], don’t be shy..” They pulled back to sit in between your legs, a hand still remaining on your chest whilst the other carried down the plane of your stomach, fingers hooking on your shorts and panties to tug down. Your soft, wet cunt was soon on display— Hange pushing at your thighs to assure they — the glasses — got a clear view.

“Look at that..I’ve barely touched you.” Clear adoration and amazement circulated their words, fingers carrying along your wet slit gently. Two digits parted your folds, another finger pressing against your hardening nub. Hange watched carefully as your legs twitched, hips rising up to feel more of their finger. They flicked at your sensitive bud delicately, all while continuing to grope your chest; tweaking your nipple between their digits.

The pleasure danced up your spine, feeling their pace quicken as melodic moans thrummed against your lips. Escaping the moment their fingers moved to push inside your wet entrance, curling to brush against that gummy spot inside you. Soft squelches entered the room with each push of their thick digits inside you, and as Hange’s thumb brushed against your clit— your eyes finally opened once again, lips parted as the sweet moan of their name escaped you.

“There she is..” Hange spoke so sweetly, far too gentle compared to the pace of their fingers. Muscles moving, fingers thrusting and scissoring inside you to brush against your velvety walls. “So perfect, so perfect and beautiful— I wish you could see yourself in my eyes..” A soft snort escaped them after their rambling all while the movement of their fingers never skipped a beat.

“— well.. technically you’ll be able to.”

Hange was such a talker, even during sex. Words of praise and encouragement spilling from their bruised lips, looking down at you with clear worship in their eyes. They were completely smitten by you, a sentiment that was undeniably mutual.

Your hips rose into Hange’s hand, hand lowering to their wrist to feel the muscles pulse against your palm with each thrust. Honeyed gasps escaped you, eyes squinted and barely being able to see their form above you. “Fuck—! Hange please..!”

“Hm?.. Please what, what’s wrong? Is it too much— want me to stop?” Your lover spoke slowly, mock-concern clear in their voice. The moment their fingers even threatened to stop, you were shaking your head back and both;

“N—no, no! Please, keep going.. ‘m so close!” Tears threatened to spill over your curly eyelashes, hips rising and practically fucking yourself on their fingers. The band inside your stomach was tightening even more, walls pulsing around their digits as hurried breaths escaped you.

Hange’s other hand fell from your breast, taking your thigh and pushing it up, all while their face grew closer to your cunt. They watched intently; camera catching it all. The arousal that coated their fingers which each thrust, how your walls fluttered around the digits, and how your essence leaked from your pussy the moment you came— a sharp moan following the action.

You panted softly as the high ran through your body, head sinking into the pillow and whimpering as their fingers slipped from inside you. You felt them come to hover over your body, hissing as their broad thigh brushed against your sensitive center. A soft whine escaped you as strong fingers grabbed your cheeks, directing your attention to their face. Their eyebrows were furrowed, thumb coming to brush against your lips as a soft hum escaped them.

“It’s unfortunate I didn’t get to see your face..” Hange spoke softly, leaning down and placing a firm kiss to your messy lips. “It’s no big deal.. I’ll just see it this time.” Their words came out in a whisper, causing a shiver to run down your spine all the way to your toes. Hange was enjoying this far too much, as if further stirred by the camera resting in their glasses.

However.. you couldn’t fault them. Since, truth be told— you felt the exact same way.

Your body went hot as their hand rose to your cheek again, a thumb swiping right under their thigh and slowly getting off the couch— leading you to sit on the cushions. You watched intently as their free hand fiddled with their sweats for a moment, lazily pulling at the strings just to watch your perfect eyebrows furrow in impatience.

A languorous grin painted your partner’s features, fingers gliding to your chin and lifting your face to meet their eyes— all while tugging their sweats and undergarments to their thighs. Hange leaned down, thumb pressed against your chin to open your mouth; delivering a heated kiss to your lips. Their hand slowly stroked themself, precum beading at their pretty red tip.

Hange pulled away slowly, licking away the string of spit whilst rubbing your commingled saliva across your lips. “Gonna get it all nice and wet for me, right baby?” Their breath fanned across your skin, watching that pretty head of yours bob back and forth quickly. Hange grinned far too wide, rising to their full height whilst moving closer. Their eyes— the glasses— were focused intently as the tip of their cock brushed your lip, making an even glossier mess.

Your lips parted slowly, eyes fluttering shut as they fed you inch by inch of their cock all while a soft praise of being such a good girl, fell from Hange’s lips. Your hands rose to their thighs, nails gliding across their skin as you breathed through your nose— struggling not to gag. Finally they were fully inside your wet mouth, tip brushing against your uvula for a moment before they were pulling their hips back; slowly thrusting back inside.

Hange watched you carefully for a moment, searching for discomfort— but found nothing. So, their thrusts continuined; the wet sounds of your mouth echoing the room as well as their pleased groans each time your tongue glided across their dick. Your cheeks were hallowed at this point, little tears forming in your eyes as they fucked your mouth— spit mixed with cum creating a sticky ring around the base of their dick, tainting their trimmed hairs.

Their hand rose from your cheek up to your hair, grabbing a gentle handful as their strained words entered your ears; “C’mon beautiful.. let the camera see— fuck. Good girl, look at you; sucking me off so well.. shit—!” They struggled not to throw their head back in ecstasy, other hand rising to pushing at the glasses to catch everything. The sweet expression on your face had their cock twitching in your mouth, soft, soaked claps following the strained sounds escaping their bruised lips.

Hange was so close, grip unintentionally tightening as their release approached. Except they didn’t allow themselves to tip over the edge, quickly pulling out of your mouth before they could finish. Heavy pants escaped them, grip loosening in your hair a bit whilst they hunched over.

“You di—“

“Only inside you, princess— do I wanna come. You know that.” Hange spoke through bated breath, taking you into a gentle kiss while pushing at your shoulder to lead you to lay on the couch again. You sunk into the cushions, breathing heavily into their mouth the moment they crawled over your form. Their hands treaded to your thighs, hitching them to their waist whilst their drenched cock brushed against your folds.

Teasingly so, bumping against your clit before leading down to your hole; resting there for a moment, before leading back to your swollen bud. Your hands rose to their messy ponytail, fingers curling into the brown tresses and tugging. Hange groaned into your mouth, pulling back when you gently tugged again; “So impatient, baby..” They grinned, leaning over to rest their forehead against yours.

You simply whined in response, watching as they rose to rest on their haunches. A hand lowered to grab the base of their dick, slowly pushing inside your awaiting entrance. The camera took in everything, from how your body twitched from the stretch to how your walls clung to their length far too greedily. Hange’s hips moved back a smidge before pushing all the way down to the base, teeth caught on their lip to suppress their moan.

You attempted to wrap your legs around them, only for their strong hands to travel underneath your thighs, pushing you up and open; knees brushing your chest. You weren’t given a moment to complain seeing as they were pulling their hips back and driving them forward in one go. The spark of pleasure eliminated any pain you felt from the stretch, nails clinging to the cushions as a languid pace begun.

Hange always started off slow, as if being introduced to your body for the first time, every single time the two of you fucked. The thrusts long and deep, drawing little moans from your bruised lips as your walls clung to their length. Soon enough you were begging for more, clit throbbing with need each time their pelvis brushed against it.

Squeezing your legs tight, Hange wasted no time in obeying your wish; trading their slow pace for something much faster— hips slamming against your skin as their cock drove into you. The moans that escaped you were heavenly, their eyes finally tearing away from your pussy stretching on their length to your face — and fuck was it a sight.

Hange moved to let your legs lay on their shoulders, slamming deeper inside; brushing against that special spot that caused stars to interrupt your vision. They got close, hand laying your throat and tilting to take you in fully. Their lips were parted, sharp sounds of pleasure escaping their throat as the pace of Hange’s hips never ceased. “You’re a mess, baby.. such a— pretty fucking me—mess..” Their words were strained as your walls clung to their length.

Your toes were curling the moment they went deeper, pressing up against your cervix and fucking you harshly. The pain and pleasure fought for dominance as cries escaped you, hand moving to their waist to drag your nails along their heated skin. Hange groaned softly above you, relishing in the way you gulped under their thumb.

“Feels good, baby?.. Yeah, keep clenchin’ my dick like that— don’t wanna let go do you?” Hange drawled, thrusts switching back to long and deep strokes; assuring you felt every single inch that was currently ruining you. Your hands rose to their back, nails dragging across their skin as the prettiest moans escaped you. You were pretty all over, really. Simply perfect, someone Hange could never get enough of looking at.. or watching cry all over their cock.

“Ha—hange..!” You whined out, eyes flying open the moment their thumb nudged your clit. The little nub throbbed under their digit, soon being rolled into tight circles by your lover. You felt your stomach tightening as the pleasure contained, arousal dripping down their length— making a mess under you.

Hange pulled back just to capture your pussy again, their cock twitching just from the sight. They hummed softly, free hand pushing at your thigh even move just to get a better look of their dick disappearing inside you. “Shit..” They groaned heavily, steady thrusts turning sloppier as they felt their own end approaching. It didn’t help your walls were spasming around them, clear you were close as well.

“— mm.. don’t close your legs, baby, keep ‘em wide and open for me.” Hange hissed, hips rocking into you as their head slackened, assuring their eyes were focused on your pussy. “Let the camera see you milking my dick..”

Tears dribbled down your cheeks, hips rising uselessly before creaming all over Hange’s length all while a drawn out whine of their name escaped you. Your walls clenched around them tightly, emitting a groan from your lover— struggling to move their hips. But they managed; rutting into you desperately before painting your insides white, thrusts stuffing the cum that threatened to spill out of you.

You whimpered softly, gripping their arms as you twitched from the sensitivity. Finally Hange let up, slowly pulling out of you and watching ever intently as your mixed essence dropped out down to your ass.

Hange’s eyes flicked to you, a sweet smile on their features as they crawled to hover above you; placing a feverish kiss in-between your eyes. “Did so good for me, [Name]. Can’t wait to see how the video turned out.” Their hand went for their sweats tossed to the side, grabbing about for a moment before snatching their phone from the pocket.

They opened the device, rising to lean on their knees and looking at the screen. Eyebrows furrowing slowly..

You blinked up at your lover, rising up from your laying position. “What’s wrong, baby?”

A nervous, maybe even playful chuckle escaped Hange; gaze switching to your form. “I never pressed record.”

“Hange!” You huffed, watching as they tapped something on their screen before leaning to place it on the table beside you. You opened your mouth to speak again, only for them to swallow your words; leading you back to the couch all while sinking back into your soaked entrance— ignoring your whines.

“Looks like we’ll just have to do another trial for our.. experiment.”

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #aot smut #black writers #x black reader #x chubby reader #hange x reader #hange x black reader #hange x black!reader #hange zoe x reader #hange zoe x black reader #hange zoe x black!reader #black reader #anime x black reader #anime x black!reader #aot x reader #aot x black!reader

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romiantic · 8 months

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DATING SATORU GOJO

text messages between you and your boyfriend second child satoru gojo <3

→ READING: gn!reader

→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff/crack + satoru is a literal man child and a questionable parent

→ A/N: literally got the urge at 2 am to make a smau post. ofc imma do my baby gojo <3

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @stqrriichiigo @jackibrown @mypimpademia — if you would like to be added to the taglist, fill out the form on my masterlist or let me know in my inbox !

⭑ this is becoming a series I hope y’all know this ;p

⭑ as much as I love gojo, I know stfu will fly out my mouth every three minutes being with this mf 😒

⭑ if y’all wanna see this with another character, lemme know !

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST

#* 💭🎧 ⌗ 𓏲 „ ˋmia is writing !#x black reader #x black!reader #anime x black reader #anime x black!reader #anime smau #jjk smau #gojo smau #satoru gojo smau #gojo x black reader #gojo x black!reader #satoru gojo x black reader #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff

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dejwrites · 1 year

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀recovery, nanami kento

the shibuya incident shook the sorcery world (and japan) drastically and nanami kento is slowly transitioning back into the world. the dreadful feeling of not being able to help the youth he worked to protect sits heavy in his mind as his scarred hands tremble to do simple tasks. but nothing causes his stomach to twists in the most horrendous knots until he have to face his five year old daughter and the world again with his new battle scars. but as a good wife

♔ ˖ ✧ — general warnings: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy described, black reader written in mind, physical descriptors, canon verse but also a what if nanami survive au, jjk spoilers, established relationship (reader and nanami are married), mentions of ptsd, mentions of scars and burn scars, cane usage, mentions of therapy, reader and nanami have a daughter named yu, same reader & nanami from family affairs series, first half is told in 2nd/reader pov & other half in nanami’s pov // smut warnings: cowgirl/riding position, breasts play, pet name usage (baby), finger sucking, praise kink, // word count: 4.4k, minors dni.

OCTOBER 31ST WAS A DAY THAT CHANGED YOUR LIFE DRASTICALLY. You remembered dropping your five-year-old daughter Yu off with a friend after an emergency call for many sorcerers to the Shibuya district. You remembered kissing both sides of your daughter’s cheeks because whenever her father wasn’t with you to drop her off, he always told you to make sure you gave her as many kisses as he would give her until she was a giggling mess begging for you to stop. You recalled how your fingertips were imprinted with the fragrance of blood despite you wearing latex gloves the whole time—with the number of deaths you marked down, perhaps that scent just was in your mind. You remembered having a drag of your first cigarette (complementary of Shoko) after the long day of horror—you hated it. You thought it would ease your growing anxiety when you didn’t know where your husband was at. You recalled how you noticed Shoko’s whole demeanor changed as her quick strides towards you seemingly were used to push you further away from seeing the horror that was soon displayed in your view.

You remembered how disoriented you felt. You couldn’t keep much food down and practically slept at the hospital. You just didn’t feel like yourself—but who would when they knew that the events at Shibuya had nearly killed their loved one? It broke your heart lying to your own daughter. Your tongue stinging, even uttering out the words that mommy and daddy had to take a work trip and will return as soon as possible. Your daughter thought you were away at work, but here you were, staring at the monitor in Nanami’s room beep. You didn’t want to lose him; you didn’t know what to do without him. You didn’t know what Yu would be without him, she was such a Daddy’s girl, and it would crush your soul for her first love to be taken away from her.

Nanami was strong. He pushed through. He wouldn’t be the same, but he pushed through. It was quite a journey of physical therapy, support groups, and even him deciding to stay at a hotel for a while, fearing how his daughter would react to seeing him like that. It took him two weeks and your constant encouragement until he finally decided to return home. Even when he decided to let his daughter see him eventually, you still basked in silence in the car, waiting until he was comfortable. Although your daughter wasn’t home yet, Nanami hadn’t stepped foot into your shared home in what seemed like a year—when it only had been a couple of months. The words of what he would say to his daughter swirl around his mind like a carnival carousel curling around. He had to do this. He couldn’t avoid being in his daughter’s life because of the triggering aftermath of Shibuya.

He refused to give Mahito that much power over him.

“I’m just afraid of how she’ll react.” Nanami lets out a sigh as he packs up his clothes. His scarred hands trembled as he folded his clothes to put them in his suitcase neatly. Nowadays, it takes him longer than usual to do simple tasks like buttoning his shirt, and he now attempts to fold his clothes.

“Our daughter is extraordinary; she’ll understand what we do when we explain it to her fully.” You grabbed Nanami’s trembling hands to get his full attention. “We told ourselves that we want her to enjoy her youth. We’ll protect her just so she can do that, but she‘s growing and becoming more curious—we can’t shelter her from a life that she could soon be interested in pursuing.”

You watched as Nanami’s lips formed a straight line. He couldn’t argue against your words because they were true. His daughter was five. It was no point to stir her away from the lifestyle her parents (and a good portion of people she interacted with) were so familiar with, especially when she could possibly already see the ghoulish creatures that haunted his nightmares when he closed his eyes.

“You’re still her father, Ken,” You mumbled as your eyes glanced up at him. “No matter how you look right now, she will still know it’s you because of this.” Your index finger pokes his chest where his heart is.

During some moments within the day, you watched Nanami do simple tasks around the house as the two of you were waiting for you to have to pick up Yu from your friend’s house. Deciding to do what you guys usually do on a bright Sunday morning: clean the house. Your eyes couldn’t help but shine in worry seeing his right-hand shudder while he tried to do something like help you cut up vegetables for dinner. You knew this took a toll on him because cooking dinner together was your thing. A form of love language created when you first started dating blossomed into a tradition—it was just something you two did together. Even after long days of work and raising a very bright personality five-year-old—you two always met in the kitchen, whipping up dinner together and sharing subtle kisses here and there.

Your lips parted to ask if he needed help, but it was as if he read your mind—Nanami shook his head as he continued to cut the vegetables. This time he had a better grip on the knife and was doing it perfectly. If you looked closer, you could even see a twinkle in his eye at him being able to do such a task. Your lips curve into a small smile before you return to doing what you were doing. The two of you moved in sync in the kitchen as if you were competitors in a cooking show—managing to finish dinner and set the table just in time for you to have to pick up Yu. You kissed Nanami’s cheek, mumbling about how you’ll be back as soon as possible. Your friend only lived about fifteen minutes away and didn’t mind dropping Yu off, but you felt it was best for you to talk to her first.

You hated to admit that you were afraid of how Yu would react at the sight of her father—especially considering that you never went into detail about what you two do. She knows you’re a doctor and heal people, but that was it. She had no clue about curses, cursed energy—any of that. Was it wrong to shield her from that, considering that her parents would die? Maybe. But you and Nanami wanted to do everything to protect her youth and her ability to be young. When you picked Yu up, you couldn’t help but smile, seeing her bright smile as she skipped out of your friend’s house with her belongings in one hand and taiyaki. She hugged your leg as you opened the car door, rambling about her adventures with your friend. You helped her in her booster seat and strapped her in before climbing back into the car and returning home. Your mind is running with thoughts of telling your daughter that her father was back from the work trip, but he got hurt. He didn’t look like the last time she saw him.

“Yu, we have to talk.” You said while stopping at the red light. You look in the rearview mirror, watching her snack on the sweet treat. Mentally, you’re cursing your friend for giving her sweets so close to dinnertime—but maybe that would help her process the burdening news.

She glances at you with a smile. A toothless one because Nanami lost one of her front teeth after biting an apple while she was going. Another moment Nanami has missed. You broke eye contact with her to continue to drive, and you could even see the familiar driveway of your home.

“Is daddy finally coming back?” Yu asked. You could hear her kicking her feet, and you simply sighed.

You were turning into the driveway and parking the car. You unbuckled your seat so you could turn to look at her. Her curious expression looked rather adorable with the taiyaki crumbs on them. You knew you couldn’t lie to her. Ignoring her question, you exited the car and helped her out. You figured it would be better to be closer to her when you dropped the colossal bomb that could alter how she sees her father. Closing the car door and kneeling to her height, “Sweetie, I need to tell you something about your father.”

Yu’s head tilted in confusion, and her eyes shone with curiosity and fear. Your hands would give her a comforting squeeze, tugging the coils out her face that fell out of the red headband Yuji brought her on one of his free days from being a sorcerer student.

“Daddy got hurt badly at work.” You tried to explain, but your voice seemed to crack in the back of your throat as you tried not to cry. This hurt.

“Your dad was hurt really bad, and I just wanted to let you know that you must take it easy on him. He’s still your dad, who will protect you no matter what.” You rubbed your thumb against her cheek brushing away any crumbs off her face.

Yu only give you a nod. The five-year-old had to comprehend that something happened so quickly that she didn’t even know if she should be asking more questions. She was one curious kid that always had a question about something. You opened the front door holding onto Yu’s hand, and the house seemed too quiet other than the sounds from the dining room. You glance down at Yu and lead her to the kitchen; you can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

Nanami set the table slowly; he didn’t even notice that two of his favorite girls had returned. You felt Yu grip your hand harder at the sight as you cleared your throat to get his attention just in time as he set the last place at the table. When he looked up and saw the two of you, you gave him a reassuring smile. It was okay. It was a huge step, but it was okay. The skin on the right side of his body was bare and burnt and could be considered quite distracting to people who walked by him when he went to physical therapy. His mangled scars traveled up from the side of his face and down to his foot. His right eye was covered with a black eye patch as he stared at his wife and Yu.

Yu’s mouth gasped open as she clutched to your pants leg. You didn’t want to nudge her forward; you were aching to know what was running through your daughter’s mind. Yu’s eyes seemed to be eyeing Nanami, who was standing before them. Nanami feared what his daughter would do and how she would react. He was afraid that his daughter wouldn’t recognize him due to the permanent scars he now had on his body. His palms grew sweaty at the silence in the kitchen. He still remembered the conversation you two had before all of this. He couldn’t shutter away in fear in a situation like this, and it was something Mahito would want.

Yu finally detached herself from your pants, dropping the snack she once was eating and running to hug her father’s leg. The sight shocked you as you watched Nanami lift her in his arms and pull her close. Yu’s small arms wrapped around Nanami’s neck as she started to cry. Your eyes began to burn with your tears, quickly going to swipe them away before you became an emotional wreck. You were happy to see her show that emotion to you and Nanami.

Yu lifts from the crook of Nanami’s neck to say through sniffles, “Daddy, I can’t believe you’re a pirate now.”

You chuckled at her statement before speaking, “How about you two go get cleaned up, and I’ll put the food on the table.”

Nanami put Yu down, and he extended his hand for her to take so she could lead him to the bathroom so they could get ready for dinner. A warm feeling overwhelmed your heart watching Yu drag him away, but she did it so gently, considering that Nanami still used a cane to help him walk better to his destination. You let them get cleaned up while you cleaned up the snack your daughter dropped and finished setting the table.

Dinner felt like a nostalgic feeling—a nice nostalgic feeling that made you smile so hard. Yu was telling you about all the adventures she went on while you were away, from going to the countryside with Nanami’s parents to going to a pig cafe with your friend. She had so many stories to tell that she must have been holding in to tell the two of you.

“And I lost my tooth.” She grins at the two of you as she lets her tongue glides across the place where one of her teeth once was.

“I’m sure the tooth fairy came and visited you,” Nanami adds.

“Yeah,” Yu placed her fork down to dig into her pockets, and she pulled out her yen bills. “Then I also made a new friend at school.”

“You’re one social butterfly,” You said aloud, sipping your water.

“He’s so nice but has an ugly imaginary friend.” Yu shoved her mouth with vegetables leaving both Nanami, and yourself stunned at her words.

“Sweetheart, it’s not very nice to call someone ugly. Even if it’s an imaginary friend.” Nanami glances at his daughter, who lets out a familiar dramatic sigh he has heard from you.

The blonde-haired male tends to forget that his daughter had a carbon copy of your personality. He watches as she pushes her vegetables around her plate before speaking again, “It’s just his imaginary friend who makes weird noises, and it looks like they make my friend unhappy.” Yu explained

Nanami’s head tilts in curiosity, hearing his daughter describe something he was acquainted with. His hold on the fork tightened as he realized what his child was describing, and his stomach formed the most monstrous knots. He took a sip of water as he watched you grab hold of his hand and give it a nice squeeze.

“How long have you been seeing this imaginary friend?” You asked.

“Hm, since Monday,” Yu admitted.

“How about we invite your friend over? Hm?” Nanami asked.

“Really?” Yu questioned excitedly.

You made eye contact with Nanami. You didn’t want him to push himself so much that he was uncomfortable. “Are you sure about that?” You questioned as you collected Yu’s plate in front of her.

“It’s okay.” Nanami gives you a grin. “We’ll just have to ask the little guy's parents, that’s all.”

Dinner continued with laughs and stories. Yu was so excited just to see her two parents together again. She couldn’t stop discussing everything she wanted to show you and Nanami. Even as you wrapped up dinner and told her to get ready for bed—she begged Nanami to help her. Due to Nanami being the girl dad he was, he couldn’t resist that charming smile and the puppy dog eyes Yu gave him when she wanted her way.

“I’ll meet you in our room when I’m done. Make sure she brushes her teeth.” You smile as Nanami pecks your lips and watches him disappear towards the stairs with your energetic daughter.

NANAMI’S FINGERS GRASPED AT THE FLUFFY PINK TEDDY BEAR AFTER HE HAD TUCKED YU IN. Nanami Kento hasn't done this in months. He hadn't tucked his daughter in and placed a soft kiss upon her forehead in months, and the feeling felt so foreign to him even though he had held her so close when she was only a tiny baby. Or the fact that he witnessed her take first steps towards not him or his lovely wife Y/N, but freakin’ Gojo. Then Nanami couldn’t forget holding her hand as he walked into her first dance class.

Yu looked at him as if he was the whole world—as if he was her protector and knight in the fairytale world that she dreamt about. Now, the guilt and the harsh stab in his heart hit him that he possibly wasn’t strong enough to protect her however he wanted. How can he protect something he promised to protect when she was just a baby now that his scarred hands shook doing simple tasks like tying his shoes, and when he closed his eyes, his nightmares were filled with him.

“Daddy?” Yu broke the blonde-haired male out of his thoughts as she looked at him. “Where’d you go? Mommy said you went away for work.”

He sits on her bed, and his weight causes the mattress to sink. He felt that question was coming; she just didn’t feel comfortable asking just yet. “Yes, I did. I just got hurt while doing so,” His lips form a reassuring grin that he hopes she will return.

Instead, her chocolate brown hues only lit up in curiosity. It was a look he had seen in Y/N’s eyes many times when he stepped into the medical room at the Kyoto school. Yu snuggles closer to the teddy bear in her arms before asking, “Does it hurt? Mommy can make you feel better with her mommy powers, or Auntie Shoko can help you..” She then flashes Nanami a smile, and it just hits Nanami that his little girl was missing one of her front teeth.

She extended her hand, and Nanami’s scarred one held on to it. He watched her small thumb rub against his hand with a small smile. “I missed you, Daddy.” Her eyes start to water, and the waterworks begin.

He cradles her in his arms so tightly, similar to when she was only a tiny baby in his arms years ago. Nanami didn’t want to let go. He held onto his daughter until she fell asleep with dried tears staining her cheeks. When he tucked her in tightly with her favorite stuffed teddy bear next to her, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“I will protect you forever, no matter what, princess.”

After those words, he knew she probably wouldn’t remember, he turned off her room light. The only thing that illuminated Yu's room was a nightlight plugged up near her bed while Nanami closed the door just a bit for it to be cracked.

Nanami settled in bed after showering. With one of his favorite books in his hand, he didn’t even notice that Y/N had skipped into the room after checking on Yu one last time before bed. The oversized Star Trek shirt that once was owned by Nanami hugged your figure, and with each step, you took to climb into bed—Nanami could get a glance at the cup of your butt.

Y/N climbed into bed, and Nanami expected her to snuggle up close to him like she usually does when he reads before bed. She’ll always tell him how comforting his voice is when he reads aloud to her. Subtle jokes about how he could have been a speech coach or something instead of fighting curses. He wished his life was as simple as that. Instead of being scouted to go to a school to fight curses, he would have lived an everyday life. He would meet Y/N in a hospital in another life because now that he’s been married to her for years, he couldn’t fathom another life where she wasn’t a part of it.

Nanami’s chocolate brown hues scanned over the words of the book he was wearing as he felt the weight of Y/N climbing on top of him. Her tummy was now supporting his book as she glanced down at him, and when his eyes finally looked up from his book—his lips formed a crescent moon-shaped smile at the sight. She hadn’t wrapped her hair yet, so her kinky coils were sprawled all over her head like a golden crown.

“I missed you, you know? I missed this.” She says as her teeth grind against the plump lower lip.

Nanami folded the corner of the page; he stopped reading and closed the book. He placed the book on the oak-colored nightstand, and his hands found comfort on Y/N’s waist. “Me too.” He answered truthfully.

“I can tell, Ken,” Y/N says lowly as her hips rock against Nanami’s bulge, which displays how much he had missed his wife since his months of being away.

His fingers tiptoed up the shirt, but he soon snatched his scarred hand away in embarrassment. The insecure feeling of his rough and tainted fingers caressing something so soft as his face grows red. Y/N’s eyebrows raised in confusion because he didn’t want to touch her. She didn’t take offense to it, considering that she knew this was something Nanami would have to get used to. That half of his body was permanent with scars that she would help him love.Y/N tugged her shirt over her head, tossing it on the floor. Her hand grasped Nanami’s scarred one and she kissed his knuckles before placing his hand on one of her breasts.

“It’s okay. I want your touch. I crave your touch.” Y/N says. She guided Nanami’s hand up and down her soft brown skin before she began to rock her hips again. She knew Nanami was enjoying because, through the curls that fell in her face with each rock of her hips, she saw how his chocolate brown eyes lit up. “And I can tell you’re craving my touch also. You’ve missed me so much, didn’t you?”

Nanami’s words were so caught up in his throat that he didn’t even know how to respond. His mind couldn’t focus on everything all at once because he wanted to do so much for Y/N. His scarred index and middle finger rolled her nipples in between them, gaining a moan from her, and it hit him hard at how much he missed this. He missed seeing how Y/N’s eyes fluttered close in pure bliss when he touched and kissed her. He’s so eager to get out of his boxers that he didn’t even catch the way she had some shit-eating grin on her face.

But it was another thing that Nanami adored. He adored seeing that expression on Y/N’s face when he finally slid in. The way she would chew on her lower lip to muffle a moan when he had only slipped his tip inside her. Which only would cause Nanami to finally shove his cock further inside her just to hear her yelp out his name and have that dreamy expression on her face.

That same expression she had on her face right now that Nanami’s cock was inside of her. A look of affection that the retired sorcerer missed so much. His hand grasped her waist, guiding Y/N’s hips in a pleasurable, rhythmic pace for both of them. Y/N props her hand on Nanami’s chest to help her balance upon riding him. Moans trembled out her mouth with each roll of her hips, and she had only had Nanami on her mind. It was quite strange how he could plague her brain like a catchy summer tune. That was just the type of spell he had on her.

Nanami tried his best to thrust upward just to hit the spot that had Y/N speaking one of the languages she knew, but it had only taken a toll on his body, and Y/N noticed immediately.

“I got it, Ken. Just relax.” Y/N’S leaning down, kissing at the corner of his lips (specifically the side that’s decorated with burn marks and soon his lips as she cocked to bounce upon his cock. “I know you want to ensure I’m getting more out of this than you.” She adds.

“Y/N…” Nanami breathed out. “I just want to make—”

His words were cut off by her, “Make sure I orgasm; when do you not make me orgasm?” She glances down at him.

“Can I take care of you for once? Hm?” She asked that question with a roll of her hips for each word and syllable that left that pretty mouth of hers.

And Nanami’s brain turned into mush, his face got so hot, and his balls grew heavier. The only answer he could give to Y/N was, “Fuck.”

“Good answer.” She cockily responds before her hand reaches at the headboard to help her ride him some more.

The mess built between their naked bodies was driving Nanami insane but in a good way. After months of being touch-deprived due to surgeries and physical therapy, he needed this. He relaxed under Y/N; he let her take control until he could feel himself about to cum.

“I’m about to—Shit,” Nanami uttered. Before he could say anything else, Y/N could feel the thick ropes of cum shooting inside of her. She’s leaning down, capturing his lips upon his and slowly grinding against him to ensure his cum stays inside of her.

When the kiss broke apart, Nanami looked up at his wife as if he had hearts in his eyes. “I fuckin’ love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N giggles through her subtle pants.

With the Star Trek shirt back on Y/N’s body, which was now stained with the scent of Nanami and sweat, she glances over at her husband, who is sincerely thinking about something. She hoped he still wasn’t thinking about the scars on his body. “What’s on your mind?” She glances up at him through her eyelashes.

“Yu can see curses now.” Nanami looked at his wife. “She’s only five.” He adds with a sigh.

Y/N hated to admit that her assumptions of what their daughter told them during dinner were accurate. She felt like Yu was too young to see them and finally realized that her world was much different than her friends in class. But Yu had two amazing parents. Two parents would guide her through this. Due to Nanami being the wonderful husband he was, it was as if he read Y/N’s mind.

With a sly grin and a quick, playful peck on the tip of Y/N’s nose, he says, “We’ll guide her through it, though.”

━━ ♡ // @maydayaisha @eiflawriting @unknownspecies @violxtbxbyy @kama-star @superluckystar @minniecums @neesiewrote @lisia-primary @plopifuee @discobeachbarbie @yeagerfushiguro @dontmockwhatilove @omb-lnn @sukunasdirtylaugh @zu8her @loveupeople @atiny-dazzlinglight @p00pdev1l @macxera @onlybambibambi @dior-fawn @sleepysnorlaxsblog @mstsukii @jujutsukaisenfan @adcree @aichaaa @sexlapis @syomi @si00p @madness1999sworld @pt6dio @daisynik7 @woahhajime @blaxxbutterfly

thanks for reading, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #anime x reader #anime smut #black reader #x black reader #jjk x black reader #anime x black reader #female reader #fem reader

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rynfiles · 4 months

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mommy kissing santa claus ? oh goodness !

✎ᝰ — your adorable children catches you and your husband sneaking kisses from one another, except that they see santa claus and not your actual husband

★ — gojo, toji, geto x fem!reader

★ — genre + warnings: fluff & very suggestive + allusion to sex from previous night in geto’s (nothing explained/nothing in detail)

★ — a/n: thank you to my pookie kai for your help (@strawhatkia) and dedicated to my tia baeeee <3 (@tiathecreator)

꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱

°❆ christmas day lingers quicker and quicker and midnight is close to striking, but of course, you and your husband are wrapping gifts very last minute. there would be a great explanation to this but there isn’t, both of your work schedules and the children's school schedules, made it barely possible to wrap gifts. which leads to the two of you rapidly, and terribly, wrapping gifts as your twin children sleep.

but, to make the night slightly more festive, gojo decided to dress up as santa claus. he bought two sets, one as pajamas and one for the morning as everyone unwrapped their gifts. he thought it would excite the children for the festive holiday. you laughed at his frivolous idea and immediately he pulled out a mrs. claus outfit….oh gosh. you laughed at the suit, you rejected the outfit and continued wrapping, ignoring his pleas as it got worse and worse.

gojo dressed up with the beard and santa hat, trying to convince you that dressing up is a wonderful idea and the kids would love it. though in your mind, you’re thinking of wondering how to tell this white-haired man that he looks like a creep and not santa claus, but you wouldn’t hurt his precious little heart like that. instead, you continued to wrap the remaining gifts, until you felt a sudden heaviness on your chest. heaviness that could be described as your brawny, whiny, six-foot-four husband still pleading with you to dress up with him. his usual gleeful blue eyes become doe-y, now giving away the desperation that gojo is never ashamed of.

you laugh at his desperation and ask him to get off but of course, he refuses. he hugs you and traps you in a tight space, you trying to squirm out of his hold and him hovering you. it also doesn’t make it better that his doe-y look turned into a sense of mischief, you raised your eyebrow at his look, and he simply shrugged at it. you two stared at each other until gojo’s lips formed a smirk and placed a sensual kiss on you. you opened your mouth to object to the kiss but instead, he placed another one and another…and another. he continued to kiss you until you kissed back, light noises made as both of your hands traveled. the kiss continued and distracted both of you from the gift wrapping and the fact that the twins had woken up from their sleep.

your bedroom door opens widely, but of course, you and gojo hadn’t noticed, and both of them yelled, “santa?!”. your child’s voice startled both of you and gojo immediately fell off of you and almost until the gifts. you elbowed him to get the gifts out of their sight, he grabbed the nearest blanket and threw it on top of their gifts. you asked your children why they couldn’t sleep and they answered back why you were kissing thee santa claus, the big dude with a sack of gifts. why is santa kissing their mom and not their dad? this is nuts, insane, crazy to even think about!

while the kids were trying to lecture you on how much dad loves you and how you’re such a bad person to dad, you looked to gojo and gojo burst into laughter, you followed along and laughed as well. both kids looked at each other with confusion and hurt on their faces. gojo patted the space between the two of you and told them to sit there as he explained a (terribly) exaggerated story on how their dad is the real santa claus, that’s why he’s extra busy during the month of december. he even took off the beard and hat to prove that’s it their giddy father and not the man in red with a bunch of elves. both children were confused and continued to ask questions, one of them didn’t believe him and still pointed to you as a cheater. you shook your head and added fictional events to gojo’s story, no matter how exaggerated it sounded aloud.

꒰ SUGURU GETO ꒱

°❆ christmas springs upon the morning, and you only know this because both of the young girls, nanako and mimiko, are banging at the door. you and geto groan and try to ignore it, if only the girls didn’t start fiddling with the door, and that startled the both of you. particularly ‘cause the aftermath of last night was still present, since the both of you weren’t clothed.

thankfully, yet oddly, you were reminded to tell geto about the santa suit to wear for the morning. now was it a silly idea? most definitely! was for nanako and mimiko? mostly yes, and you needed some type of memory of christmas morning on your phone. you walk over to your closet and shuffle around the boxes of presents until you spotted the big red suit and hat to match. you smiled ever so cunningly to yourself, geto noticed but shrugged his shoulders and went about to brush his teeth. you pulled the suit from behind the presents and showed it geto, proposing to him to wear it for this merry morning. geto being geto, he immediately rejected but that no didn’t stop you from convincing him to wear. did it take a lot of convincing? oh definitely. did it take a lot of “are you guys done yet?” from your two girls? yes…sadly yes.

the only thing that convinced him was that it would bring a lot of glee to his girls and he can’t disappoint his girls, he just can’t. even if it means sucking up his pride and dressing up as santa claus and pretending to bring the gifts from the north pole. it also helps, not geto though, that you bought a sack similar to santa’s so he could truly be in character.

after some time of getting ready for the morning, as in fussing with geto about the suit and carefully placing the presents into sack, you entered the living room with a smile that is hiding something, but the girls are too focused on their stocking stuffers to notice. they bounce with gleefulness as they open small gifts such as doll clothes, hair accessories, some candy, and other minuscule things they asked for. they continued to bounce around the tree as they tried to peek at what their gifts could be but were forced not to open them until their surprise arrived.

the girls grew tired after some minutes and frequently asked when is their surprise is coming. nanako tried to sneakily open one of her gifts under the tree until the iconic, “ho! ho! ho!”, made it’s way into your home and the girls jumped up from their spot to see santa claus in their home. their jaws dropped and their eyes grew from the sudden appearance of santa claus, the true (fake) santa in their home! you giggled at their amusement and you noticed geto’s mouth growing from annoyed to relaxed as he small childish smiles on his girl’s faces. maybe dressing up as santa wasn’t too bad of an idea for geto, but who is he to tell you that you’re right?

the girls eagerly asked questions as santa geto sat down to give their gifts, he tried to answer to the best of his abilities or at least give believable answers for them. mimiko questioned him on why santa’s hair looked similar to their father’s and he immediately answered with hair dye and extensions. you smiled to yourself at the beautiful, and playful, sight of the girls enjoying geto as santa claus, you took many pictures on your phone while they weren’t looking.

though, geto caught you mid-click and pulled you onto his lap. he peppered kisses all over your face and gave you “your gift”, an enduring and sweet kiss to say “I love you”. though, maybe nanako and mimiko shouldn’t have been present to witness that cause immediate yelling came from the both of them. they mostly yelled at geto and asked him why he kissed their mother, he’s supposed to be married to mrs. claus! he shouldn’t have his lips on their mother and their mom shouldn’t like that, their father would be furious!

you and geto smiled at their lecture, you giggled to yourself and geto pulled off his costume, reavealing to them that he is santa claus. mimiko tried to say that she always knew from the hair but the both of you knew that was a lie.

꒰ TOJI FUSHIGURO ꒱

°❆ a clink goes and laughter fills the living room, just as much as it is with red and white, and the typical splatter of different colors from megumi and tsumiki, love and peace decorate it as well. two bottles of wine sat at the dresser, one already halfway done as you and toji chatted (and drank) away for christmas eve. but as the wine bottle becomes empty, the space between you two becomes closer. then again, he has been gone for a whole month and a half, it’s only right to feel this way with him.

it’s only right to feel this way of yearning from his absence, which explains why his arm slyly brings your lower body closer to him. it explains why his fingers drag themselves along your thigh, lightly dragging around your stretch marks. it explains why toji brought himself closer to your face, only a mere inch away from your lips interlocking. but instead he brings the idea of dressing as santa claus and mrs. claus for the night? sounds odd, trust it is and the way your head is titled, he knew that it sounded odd to you.

he explains himself further and says that it's only right that you dress up for the holiday season. plus, he’s one hundred percent sure that mrs. claus misses her dead old husband. you still had a look of confusion on your face, toji sighed and went into the closet to change into the costume he had prepared. except when he came out, it was barely anything like the classic look of santa; it was a red thermal top with fur cuffs, barely cropped but can still show a peek of his abs, the top had a bell at the collar, quite small and quite annoying. red thermal pants to match as well and a santa hat (something to keep it classic).

you burst into laughter as you saw the awful outfit he claimed to be dressed as “santa claus”. when in actuality, he looks like an elf on the shelf and you told him that, crying in laughter as toji huffs in embarrassment. he grumbled to himself, saying it was the last time he tried to be “in the merry spirit”. he continued to grumble to himself and you continued to laugh at him, still not over the ridiculous outfit, you gave props for trying, but couldn’t get over it.

granted, his muscle build made it look somewhat attractive but the amount of red on him just threw you in for a loop. it also doesn’t help that the bell jingles every time he moves. his embarrassment grew into frustration, making him throw off the top and your laugh dialed down. the both of you forgot how bashful you can get when toji is topless, due to his absence.

toji noticed, finding amusement at how your laughter was taken back as soon as he removed his shirt. which made him want to tease you just a slight bit; he moved back to the bed and grabbed your hand, moving it to place on his hips. then drags it along his waist, he lets out a small groan when you press your nails onto it.

as both of your hands roamed over each other, the space between your bodies constricted, leaning closer and closer until your lips ghosted over. you both chuckled before kissing one another, a kiss that could be described as loving, enduring, and passionate. but could you blame each other?

well, the only thing to blame is that door wasn’t completely closed and tsumiki happened to pass by. she glanced and continued to the kitchen, but then backtracked to your room. she spotted the red hat and thought to herself, “santa? there’s no way, why is santa in mommy’s room?”. she tip-toed closer to the small crack that your door left and viewed the kiss shared between you and toji. her jaw dropped and she immediately ran, quietly ran, to megumi’s room to wake him up. megumi grumbled to her to let him sleep, yet tsumiki insisted that she saw her mom kissing santa claus. she saw it with her own two eyes!

megumi didn’t believe her and tried to ignore her but he knew that wouldn’t work, therefore getting up from his bed and treading towards your bedroom. he didn’t even bother knocking and opening the door, immediately wishing he didn’t from the way his parents were on each other. thankfully, you both were clothed and didn’t do anything…yet.

toji scolded megumi for not knocking on the door and megumi rolled his eyes. megumi turned over to tsumiki and pointed out to her that santa claus was just their dad in a santa hat, it wasn’t the actual santa eating their mom’s mouth. tsumiki felt naive for falling for something so obvious but she can admit that she was a bit spooked that santa looked much too similar to toji. she even commented on how toji’s back looks sharp like rocks while santa’s doesn’t, that only made toji confused and you and megumi laughing at the comment.

toji came closer to tsumiki and started to chase her around the house, yelling how she’s gonna coal for christmas for peeking into her parent’s bedroom. you and megumi shook your heads but was amused at this family’s dynamic.

★ I tried so hard not to make toji’s include smut, yall please- like it’s so hard not making this whore when it’s literally canon that he is

★ would yall believe me if i said toji’s was the longest 🧍🏽‍♀️…?

★ lemme know which one was yall fav <3

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merakidoll · 10 months

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gojo fell prey to the great cooking and fat ass his new neighbor had. he would peak out of his window just at the right time to squeeze the cum out of his cock whenever you walked out of your home.

he knew about the large age gap you two had. hell, he knew about your kid as well, he would watch when the father came to pick them up for his week, wondering if this was the week he would be able to finally get you - feel you

“m-mouhhh i can’t” he whimpered his cock starting to hurt from the excessive amount of cum that he has been producing. to be older your were making him look like such a bitch, and he loved it! his limp dick immediately rose when you hands wrapped around him again the long acrylics, clacking together while you hallowed your cheeks gobbling gojo’s dick down

sucking nosies came out of your mouth along with a lot of saliva. you liked giving messy head, making it nasty.

you licked down all the way to his balls putting each one in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. the whole time gojo’s tearful face was red, scrunched in the feeling of being close and his ball feeling so heavy.

“m-mommy cummm shitfuck! gonna cum” with a mouth full of balls a giggle erupted from you setting the young college boy off the edge. his cum came out slow, globs sliding down his all the way to where you still sat with his balls in your mouth.

the next day after making gojo pass out on his bed with cum all over himself - just from head. you knocked on the door with a plate of cookies for him and his roommates acting as if nothing happened

#been loving milfs #repost!#gojo x black reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x black!reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk x chubby reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #anime x chubby reader #anime x black reader #anime x reader #anime smut #˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ (mirah work’s) ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄#ׁ ˳ ౨ ( mirah’s creation) ৎ⠀⭑ ⠀𓂋⠀⠀!

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dejwrld · 1 month

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⤷‧₊˚ ʚ₊˚‧ ✿ ꒱ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 / the story of how the ushijima's rekindled an old flame that kick-started their love story.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, her/she pronouns, black reader (with descriptors), influencer!reader, profanity, alcohol usage, intoxication (both reader and ushijima), flashback in italics, mentions of making out, mentions of fingering, tendou makes an appearance, i just around using ushijima & wakatoshi a lot, it's late but we here, mdni

╰┈➤ song for this part: we might even be falling in love (interlude) by victoria monet

masterlist

Wakatoshi’s fingers lingered on your lower back as the crowd cheered for the excitement of the wedding that was just a couple of days away. His lips grazed upon the shell of your ear at the flash of the photographer’s camera. This felt so unreal, you were about to get married in a couple of days to the love of your life. You felt this feeling of warmth rush over your body with each second of Wakatoshi’s fingertips tracing alongside the lining of your dress.

“Who would have thought?” His words whisper in your ears with a grin. “Wouldn’t think I would be about to marry the cute girl who I help carry coffee to her internship building.”

You bite back a smile before you turn to wrap your arms around his neck. Your high heels give you enough height so you won’t have to stand on your tippy toes. The diamond ring on your finger twinkles under the restaurant light before you place a quick peck on his lip.

“Yeah, just some years ago we rekindled in Paris,” You said.

His lips were against your ear once more, “Ah, I remember Paris like it was yesterday. But I could have sworn you told me, what happened in Paris stays-“

His words and your pending embarrassment of remembering the events in Paris made your cheeks heat up. Your eyes trail to your fiancé while he’s getting dragged by his teammates away from you. His chestnut-colored eyes never leave you while a foolish grin spreads on his face before he disappears into the celebratory dinner crowd. Even if he was swallowed up by a sea of people, you still could see him in the crowd with a huge grin as he gloated about being a married man in a couple of days.

Paris.

What a memory that was.

Your first fashion week as an influencer and blogger had just wrapped up leaving you to explore Paris. You wanted to celebrate the huge opportunities that were graced upon you. Landing a brand deal with a well-known and successful black luxury brand was something huge for you. It felt like a dream if you were going to be honest with yourself. So, you had to celebrate until your last day in Paris. You shopped a lot. Went out clubbing with some other influencers that were here also. Now you stand outside this chocolate shop gazing at the huge chocolate fountain that was in front of the display window that looks like it’s been cleaned countless times during the day.

You went to snap a picture of it for your social media accounts, but a figure inside the store caught your attention. His large frame was hunched over the counter as he was talking to another man with a red buzz-cut hairstyle. Even though the sign on the door was turned to closed, he was inside as if he had special privileges. He wore some light khaki-colored slacks, a black polo that was tucked in and secured with a belt, a beige wool overcoat, and a pair of white Alexander McQueen shoes. His dark olive-brown hair wasn’t messy in the sense that it looked like he just rolled out of bed, but more of him constantly running his fingers through it. He looked familiar.

When the red-haired guy noticed you staring, you immediately fled. Although, the aesthetically pleasing chocolate fountain would be wonderful for your Paris photo dump for your socials—nothing is more embarrassing than being caught staring at a possible stranger through a window like a creep. You thought you were walking fast enough to put distance between yourself and the shop, but when you felt someone grab a hold of your elbow—the feeling of despair engulfed you so quickly. Until you saw who grabbed you.

The man who you were staring at. That sense of familiarity wasn’t nothing because you knew him.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

“I knew you looked familiar.” Your voice came out like a whisper as if you didn’t believe he was standing in front of you.

It’s been years since the last time you saw him. You remembered how kind he was when you two first met. Helping you carry baked goods and coffee orders in your internship building. Then two weeks later from that interaction, you saw him again at a farmer’s market in California. Then after that, the next time you saw him was when he was a part of Japan’s volleyball Olympics team. You didn’t want to admit that you thought about him a lot. Who wouldn’t? He was an attractive and genuine guy. The volleyball part was just an extra point.

“Last time we saw each other, I remember specifically you talked my father’s head off over-”

“Marketing.” You finished his sentence, the distant memory of you practically forcing him to be the third wheel with his day with his father made you cringe. “I’m sorry about that by the way. Thinking back on it, it was extremely intrusive.”

“Eh, it’s fine. My father still talks about you up to this day, you know? Quote on quote said I should date a girl like you. I can see why he would say that.” His eyes scan over your face to your body and now even though you are covered in a sweater dress—you feel bare.

The heat that spread from your fingertips to your cheeks made you want to fan yourself. “It’s good to see you again, Ushijima.”

“Wakatoshi..” He corrects.

Your lips curve into a smile of warmth before speaking again, “Wakatoshi.”

You liked how that felt, and you can tell that he enjoyed you saying it. The tip of his ears was as red as your purse that was hanging on your shoulder. Soon that deep crimson color imparts across his cheeks. He looks down at his shoes in embarrassment before attempting to speak through the fact that he is blushing in front of you.

“Are you free tonight? Meeting my friend and his co-workers at this bar not too far away from here.” Wakatoshi questions.

“Yes, I’m just enjoying the last couple of days here before I head back.”

“And when is that?”

“Two days.”

“Great.” was the only thing that left his mouth before he grabbed your hand and walked through the crowd of people towards the bar.

Here you two sat in a bar full of people and that feeling of it only being you two returned. Thighs briefly brushed against each other while you were in a booth together, practically ignoring the environment around each other. Even though the two of you could only send wide grins toward each other, you still felt this strange feeling of comfort wiggle up your spine. Even growing comfortable to lean back further in your seat into Ushijima’s arm that was resting on the back of the booth seat.

“Okay, you have half a million followers. How can I build my following?” Tendou slides his phone across the table to show you his Instagram account.

You glance at his phone briefly. He had a pretty decent following for a chocolatier. From your conversations with him, while you were here with him and Ushijima, he had a bright and energetic personality that you were sure would win people over. You scrolled through his photos of different chocolate he’s made and even some fun photo dumps. His likes on his photos were extremely stable considering the platform’s strange algorithm. Quite obvious it was actual people liking his photos and not bots.

“You have a decent following and interesting stuff on your page. Have you tried recording a day in your life video?” You asked. “I think it would be cool for people to see the life of a chocolatier.” You shrug your shoulders and slide your phone to him.

“I never thought to do that,” Tendou snatches up his phone to glance through his Instagram again. Soon a young woman caught his attention and he abruptly excused himself, uttering how he had to use his French to good use.

“So, how’s your social media looking?” You questioned before your eyes looked up at Ushijima. “Do you even have any social media pages? You look like a very reserved guy..” Your words trail off realizing that maybe this was a bit intrusive that came off.

“Not a social media person, but my manager insists I make an Instagram account to connect with fans.” He pulls his phone out, unlocking it swiftly to show you his page.

He had more followers than you and verified. But he had only two photos on his page. One was dated back to a year when he first signed to the Schweiden Alders and the other was with his dad, who you assumed was in California.

“You only have two pictures. Why? If you mind me asking.”

“I just don’t see the point of having millions of people to be able to see important details of my life every day. That’s how people begin to construct their own opinions about you even though they merely only see what you post on the internet.” He sips from his beer bottle.

You hummed at his answer, letting it debrief in your head. You never thought about it that way considering your career choice. Granted, you don’t share a lot about your personal life—but you were a very public person. Over a half million people knew you were in Paris at the moment, but for Ushijima, no one knew he was here unless they were Tendou, his close friends, and maybe some volleyball fans.

“But your job must be quite interesting though. You have half a million people wanting details on your outfits and such.” He tries to lighten the atmosphere because he can tell that his words are causing you to think deeply.

“I’m grateful for that since they do help a girl eat, but I see why you’re so private. You’re like an all-star volleyball player. I’m sure social media could throw your game off.”

“It does, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Sports journalists are much harsher, you know.” His fingers traced alongside the rim of his beer bottle.

“How’s your parents?” You asked. “I’m sure your dad is loving the Cali weather,” You add.

“They’re good. We can officially be in a room together without any back and forth. Think they do it just for me though,” his shoulders shrug and you manage to take note of how broad his shoulders are.

Maybe you were gawking at his appearance. The last time you saw him, he had height on him. Maybe he grew a bit taller over the years. You definitely can tell whatever workout plan he had made him gain more muscle too.

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure they’re super proud to see how far you have come.” You cheesed at him and he finished the last bit of his beer before the two of you were interrupted.

These two young men stood with a huge smile on their faces. Faces as red as the red Sharpie one of them held in their hand. You knew they weren’t there for you, so you only laughed as Ushijima waited for them to spit out what they wanted.

“We’re huge fans. Can we get some pictures and an autograph?” One asked.

Ushijima looked at you with an apologetic look that you simply giggled at before letting him talk to his fans. In the meantime, you watch as he talks to the two guys as if he knew them for years. A huge smile on his face and his eyes twinkling like the night stars, seeing him like this felt nice. It brought comfort to you in a sense. During the time of them talking, a waitress placed shots down on the table that the fans brought. In return, you volunteered to take the picture of the trio and watch as Ushijima scribbled his autograph on a spare napkin on the table you two sat at.

“We’re sorry for interrupting your date. Thanks for the picture and autograph.” One of the guys says before leaving—not giving either you or Ushijima time to correct him that this wasn’t a date.

You went to make a joke about it, but your phone interrupted that. You quickly down the shot in front of you and make your escape out of the booth.

“I have to take this call.” You seem to yell over the loud music playing in the bar. You went to stand up to take the phone call outside, but you felt Ushijima tug you back.

“Let me go with you,” You felt his hand grab yours instantly as he slid from outside the booth.

“I’m not going to get lost, you know?” You glance back at him briefly before leading him out of the bar.

The two walked right by Tendou who was talking with a co-worker and as soon as he saw you two walking towards the door, his bright red eyebrows raised in curiosity. Most likely thinking you two were calling it a night after the extensive round of shots Ushijima fan brought him after he autographed a napkin for him.

You thought it was strange for someone from one of the brands you work for to call you so late at night. Especially when you had spoken to them earlier—correction, you even did your part of the deal and finally posted the product review they were hounding you for. You listened to the agent talk about how they wanted you to post a review on their newest lipstick line that was being released in two weeks. But as they were throwing out their demands through your tipsy hiccups, they weren’t mentioning anything about increasing your pay.

You were a bit intoxicated and on the phone, with someone from a company you were a brand ambassador for. The night Paris wind brushed against your smooth brown legs under your sweater dress and you thought your body was going to shiver, but the closeness of Ushijima was like a personal heater. His eyes stared down at you with lust and charm while you were listening to the person on the other end.

They do say some wines can be classified as an aphrodisiac. Perhaps it was the alcohol because you wanted him. You yearned for him just as much as you did years ago when you first met him. The heat that pooled in between your thighs crept up on you when you noticed Ushijima’s eyes scan over your lip gloss-covered lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

You couldn’t quite remember if you said yes. But you remembered your timid nods as you leaned to meet him halfway to close the gap between you two. You remembered ending the phone call without a care (and was sure you wouldn’t hear the last of it during your next Zoom meeting). And you remembered how Wakatoshi's lips felt. Soft, smooth, and plushable. He was a stern kisser, it went well with his personality. You could feel his fingertips on the back of your neck locking you in place for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue traced alongside your full lips aching to taste all the alcohol that stained your tongue. His knee breaks apart from your thighs as soon as your lips gasp apart to let him in. Your fingers interlock in his brown hair tugging him closer and your left thigh lifts just a bit for his free hand to grab upon.

Was it cliche to say you’ve never been kissed like this before? The way your lips moved with each other, you would have thought that the two of you had done this before. Perhaps in another life, you two were former lovers. That would explain the chemistry you two bounced off each other within the night and right now under the bright moon that gave you little light in the space you were camped out.

During the heated makeout session, you could feel his fingerings up the dress you wore and your body instantly heated up. It was Wakatoshi doing this to you, of course, your body would feel like it was running a fever. But the idea of doing this here in an alley as drunken strangers walk by turned you on. Yes, it was scandalous if someone snapped a picture. There goes your brand deals and maybe a decrease in followers, but this was Wakatoshi. You would do anything to feel his expensive fingers rub against your clit.

After the alleyway interaction, he spent the remaining two days with you. Even though he technically was supposed to leave the next morning—he extended your fairytale of making you feel like the most important woman in the world. Embracing those last forty-eight hours with you as if it were his last specks of air escaping his lungs.

You remembered his last words before you were boarding your plane. A foolish grin on your glowing face and fingers intertwined with his like a love-sick character from a romance novel.

“Is it odd to say I want us to work?” He admits. “And we only just rekindled two days ago.”

“Then I’ll see you at your game next week.”

“Really?”

“Let’s make this work, Wakatoshi.”

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @salaciousdoll @honeybleed @mitsuyasfavorite @saltypuffin1040 @torusbitch @lotustv @superslutny @kokonoiscoconut @queendijaaaa @jamaicanqueenaa @liyawritesss @tojiscumdumpster @threezzyo @markleedreams @tenshithetinysuccubby @ryukenzz @strawhatsav @shyartnerd564 @renestudio @theebussyqueensblog

#ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x black reader #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq smut #hq x black reader #ushijima wakaotoshi x black reader #anime smut #anime x black reader #black reader #female reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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dumbdemonslayertexts · 3 months

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POV: you're gojo's black gf, and he's finding out you're scary the first time you sleep over when he ends up popped in his face after you stir awake in the middle of the night. (bc infinity is always off with his baby)

Gojo: 💎👄💎

You: ....?? ‼️‼️ WHAT THE F- (👊🏽👊🏾👊🏿💥)

Gojo: GRHRNFF! AAH ! baby, what the shit!

You: NIGGA ARE YOU OUTTA YOUR MIND?! WHO ARE YOU STARING AT!!?

Gojo: (prolly cracking up by how) WH?! you were cute and asleep! what, can i not look at you now?! Damn!

You: NO, NIGGA! YOU LOOK CRAZY!

Gojo: (still dying laughing) ma, my nose is bleeding ! you cracked me straight in the damn face, like-!

You: then quit looking like a motherfuckin demon, goodnight !

Gojo: (going to the bathroom for a rag) yeah, okay. I made you cum 5 times tonight remember that-!

You: don't nobody give a damn ! ...looking like one of them bubblegum eyeball spongebob popsicles, boy if you don't take your ass on..!

Gojo: pfftFTFTT- looking like WHAT?!

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tvgals · 1 year

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‘ Y SO WORRIED?? ‘

jjk men being too big while inside their pretty black wife <3

including: nanami, toji, sukuna, getou

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ GETOU

getou is a hugeeee guy. huge guy = an even huger dick !

“take your time baby…take it all in..” he mumbles, holding your hips to the mattress. you groan into the air, reaching for getou’s biceps. “unt unt! can’t take it all in!” you whine, scratching at his arm.

“take it baby. i know you can.” he groans into your neck, raising his hand to one of your tits. “baby…’m gonna cum!” you warn , turning your head to avert his gaze. “oh baby, we’ve barely gotten halfway.. poor baby.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ SUKUNA

true form! sukuna for the hot girls 🤷‍♀️

“can barely take one ‘kuna! i can’t take two!” you babble. currently, sukuna was shoving both of his dicks in both of your holes. one in your ass, another in your pretty cunt, and the mouth on his stomach drooling over your clit.

“shh..you can do it baby. ya’ take one so well yeah?” he coos, bending over you and pressing his forehead to yours. he’d probably get clowned if his friends saw how vulnerable he looks right now, but he couldn’t give a single fuck.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ TOJI

he’s just so rough ! :(

“shutup and take it.” toji says, pushing your head into the pillow, he doesn’t care if you can’t breathe, he only cares about getting off. “oh my godddd..” you scream into the pillow, arching your back. “it’s good huh? fuckers you were talking to can’t make you feel like this can they?” he asks, slapping your ass.

“no! toji please… put it all in please please please..” you cry. “i’m gonna take my sweet fucking time with you.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ NANAMI

my pretty little businessman <3

“mhm.. you feel it baby?” nanami coos. you and him were just taking a normal bath, one of intimacy, a cute cuddle session. it wasn’t supposed to end with him halfway inside of you! “kennn..” you moan, pressing your face into his neck. “yes love?” he asks, like he doesn’t know he’s going extremely slow. “please..’s too big..” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“pretty baby…don’t cry..”

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mysteria157 · 1 month

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Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend.

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy? Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear. As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake.

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

“I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week.

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

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