UPDATED CHAPTER 6

UPDATED CHAPTER 6

Finally updated chapter 6 and I'm working on Chapter 7 right now!

THIS ‼️

CHAPTER 8 UPDATE

Chapter 8 might come out today!!!

I want to give out the disclaimer that there isn't any smut in this chapter but there are insinuations of it. So if anyone only reads for the smut I'm sorry :(

Magnum Opus| Masterlist

summary:  returning back to your hometown, Paradis,with your children after the loss of your husband you are met with your first love and first heartbreak, Eren Yeager.

tags: childhood friends to lovers to exes to ?, parenthood, character death, character death is levi, angst, fluff, eventual smut, substance abuse, grief/mourning, MIKASA SLANDER IS NOT TOLERATED, aged up (26-30 yr olds), mentions of abortions, reader is hardheaded, eren is an asshole.

chapters:

one: back to paradis - 5.5.23

two: phantom reunions - 5.7.23

𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙦𝙪𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 | ᴛᴏᴊɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ| forgotten gems (18+ MDNI)

pairings: toji x gojo!reader

summary: your family doesn't understand your value but Toji sure does.

tags/genre: toji x gojo!reader, gojo’s older sister, pre-star plasma vessel arc/star plasma vessel arc, suggestive language (thanks to Toji, of course), explicit language, symbolism (?), misogyny, satoru being a little brat (are we surprised?), strangers to friends to ?, fluff, 2nd person point of view, the first person point of view switches are intentional!, original character (Osamu Zenin).

warnings: 6.3k word count, rated M (18+) for language and sexual scenes, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, male dom, fem sub, praise kink, degradation kink (barely), boob play, calls her a slut, handjob (fem and male rec.), teasing (this is toji were are talking about), sweet talk, dirty talk, pet names, semi-edging, cowgirl, safe-sex (they used a condom).

series masterlist

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You had let your guard down. Your mother had informed you about a brunch you had with your father and it did psyche you out. Your father never had a one-on-one with you unless it was business-related. Therefore, your thoughts leading up to the brunch pertained to your father with slight glimpses of that night with Toji.  Your mother had chosen your clothes, usually a cause of alarm but you had been so preoccupied that you didn’t question why she had insisted you wear a pale blue kimono with displaced floral arrangements as the design and to wear your hair up in a bun with silver floral blue hairpin. Extravagant wardrobe choice for a brunch.

You were truly blindsided when instead of seeing your father you were met with a smug Osamu Zenin sitting at the table you were directed to with food already there for you. 

“Gojo, you made it this time. I was expecting to be stood up as per the usual routine that we find ourselves in.” He mocked. Even his appearance reeked of pretentiousness. His relatively long hair was being pushed out of his face and into a low ponytail.

He wore a yukata that was similar in color scheme to your outfit, just a darker shade of blue and devoid of any sort of pattern. His frame came nowhere close to Toji’s. He was slender and had a few developed muscles in his biceps at best. Gesturing to the seat in front of him, he says, “Please take a seat. I paid for all this food and it would be a shame to see it go to waste.”

Osamu Zenin was the perfect man for you. 

A sentence that your mother believed wholeheartedly to be true. In comparison to any other son that Naobito had tried to set you up with, your mother voiced her utmost praise for Osamu. She would surmise him as a younger version of your father, down to the haircut and the personality. Truly what any woman wants a potential suitor to be described as. Among the Zenin clan, he fell under the previously inhabited category of Most Attractive. However, his personality didn’t match it. His looks had the female diaspora yearning for him and his personality had them at his beck and call. You called it an epidemic of Stockholm Syndrome.

You surveyed the restaurant out of the slim hope that your father would appear from either the bathroom or the front doors. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found. You scoff at the situation, “If a woman actively avoids seeing you during arranged meetings like this, that should be a clear enough sign that she isn’t interested.”

“Send your mother my gratitude for managing to make this happen.” He took no offense to your words and dared to smirk, “You’d be pleased to know that this meeting holds substance.” 

“How so?” You ask with the same amount of interest that you had from the beginning of the interaction. 

Zenin hold a dominant trait within their family. It appears in each generation and if it skips one then surely the child is illegitimate. That trait is being incessantly annoying until they get what they want. You’ve seen it first hand and historians write about it enough for it to be true. They were bred manipulators with an apathy that matched that of a sociopath. 

The Gojo’s were quiet with their manipulation. It’s hard to tell it even happens until someone is negatively impacted by the repercussions. They also hid their misogyny well.

“Take a seat. I hate looking up at women when it’s unnecessary.” He urged with a load of disdain coming from his mouth. Women were to be at his beck and call. Never the other way around. He had confessed that to you during one of your first meetings. He knew of your reputation and he was confident that he could make the impenetrable Gojo his without much effort. Gojo’s are complicated beings and he had figured that out after 6 years of courting. His favorite play must’ve been Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew. Unfortunately for him, yours was As You Like It.

“And I like looking down on men when it is.” You shot back with a pointed look with your arms crossed over one another not before directing it toward the other patrons inside. The entire establishment reeked of affairs and widowers. “Speak up or I’m leaving.”

“You Gojo’s are insufferable.” You heard him mutter under his breath. 

The Gojo’s and the Zenin had a history dating back to the era of feudal Japan. The story goes that during the Edo period, the heads of the clans fought resulting in the death of the Gojo clan head. It was said that they were each in possession of their inherited techniques– a battle of the century. The backstory as to what led to the fight has been misconstrued and in semblance to the Bible has been interpreted further and further from the truth. It was a mystery to you why Naobito wanted to push a marriage between the two families. The malignant history should’ve prevented any sort of arrangement.  Your father was impartial to the arrangements and if he did care, he made little effort to show it. 

“Yet you still chose to pursue me. Seems counterproductive.” You chastise, “The answer will remain the same for as long as I live. I’d pick any of your relatives over you without missing a breath.”

He scoffed and countered, “Now you and I both know that’s not true.” 

He may have been right. The other “suitable candidate” would be Jinichi and let’s just say you liked his brother better.

“Do we? Because I’m failing to see when you and I have seen eye to eye on anything.” Your voice had slightly risen and if there had not been prior threatening conditions, a few heads would’ve been turned. From the outside looking in, you two were in the middle of a lover's quarrel. A demeaning assumption to be lumped into.

“You’ve wasted my time.” You sighed and decided not to linger any longer, “This meeting doesn’t hold any substance and I do not like wasting my time so frivolously. If that’s all you had to say I’ll be leaving.”

Your feet pivoted away from him, walking away as you searched inside your clutch to text your driver that you were ready to be picked up.

Osamu didn’t seem bothered by it. He had anticipated that reaction. He snapped his fingers at your departing figure and called out, “Oh, I wouldn’t leave so soon. This proposal is concerning the Six-Eyes that you treasure so much.”

His words managed to halt your movements but were not enough to commit to turning back. Each snap he’d do was transcribed in your mind as a countdown of you getting closer to getting visibly pissed off.  Having found your phone, you quickly typed out a text to your driver but let your fingers hover over the send button before you questioned his audacity,  “Are you using my brother as a threat? Should I relay to you the reason for my declining all your former marriage proposals?”

“I say that to you not as a threat but as a warning from your clan.” You turn around and see the satisfaction dripping from his tired eyes. You’ve seen that expression before and it wasn’t as antagonizing as his.

“You’re speaking in tongues. Would you like me to cut it off?” You warned but he didn’t back down even if he knew you weren’t one to speak without purpose. 

“Always quick-witted aren’t you?”His boisterous laughter resounded through the restaurant. He turned some heads but they soon disappeared into their conversations. He laughed out your name before explaining, “Do you truthfully believe that your clan is going to allow a woman to lead them? Let alone by herself? It would be blasphemous for you to even be considered in earnest for such an important position.”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. I at least would know how to get to the point in meetings like this.” You stated before turning your phone off and placing it back into your clutch.

“Your clan has no plan on making your position permanent. You are merely there to become an acting clan leader for Satoru. After he gets to a relatively sentient age, they’ll release you of your title and sell you off to become a housewife.” He informed you as he looked thoroughly pleased that you had finally given him your full attention. He took a bite out of one of the hors d'oeuvres and continued, “How does it feel to be lied to?”

You remained poised but let your words pierce for you.

“Why would you of all people know any of this? I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you at any of the Elder meetings.” You mockingly wondered, searching for an answer in the ceiling. Your eyes find him again and you deadpan, “Oh, wait.”

He scoffed, “I happen to be in the ones you aren’t a part of.”

“Is that so?” Knowing full well that he was spewing bullshit.

“Why would I risk my livelihood for a man.” Then it clicked. He was so insistent on being married off. Particularly to you. A Gojo, nonetheless. It was for the same reason men initiated wars or talked over women. It all came down to power. 

“Ah, that’s what it is, isn’t it? What this whole thing is about? This has never been about Satoru.” You began as you lifted yourself from your seat and gathered your clutch into your hands.

“Where are you going?” He asked. His hands were getting ready to grasp your wrist but were repelled by an invisible force. You glance down at his hand and scoff, “Not enough for you to know how different you are from me.”

“I’ll say this as I look down on you because I know how you adore looking up to me. You’ve been doing it your whole life.” You leaned your body down until you were level with him and zeroed your blue eyes into his eyes, “You loathe the idea that a woman would be in a higher position than you. If I marry you, it’s because I chose to. Not the other way around. Your threats don’t even hold a value because even in that scenario, you're not the one in power.”

But neither did you. Sorry to cut off your monologue but if his power was nonexistent then yours was miniscule.

Families tend to bear the signage of their legacy. A Gojo was thorough and quaint with an honorable benevolent presence. Their eyes and hair are key components to their icy exteriors. Not an inch of warmth to be dispelled from them. They get what they want and whoever harbors the consequences of that is left as residual fragments of their greed.  

That’s why when you walked into your family’s dining room, you had all but smoke coming from your ears when you saw your mother enjoying her midafternoon tea with a fashion magazine in hand. You were a spitting image of her minus your hair and eye color. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and a blue hairpin similar to yours. Her kimono was also blue but was a shade of blue that was nauseating to stare at. Kind of like a person with motion sickness on a boat. She didn’t have to bat an eye to notice the bad energy you had given off when you entered the room.

“Back from brunch so early?” She commented as she licked his finger to turn the page. 

“Would have been there longer if the meeting was worth my time. I ask that you don’t involve me in any of your schemes moving forward.” You tried to remain composed but it was hard when she barely acknowledged your presence. 

“Osamu is a good man. He has a good head on his shoulders and enough tact to understand what it means to rule a clan. He is perfect for this family.” She answered, not breaking her stride in skimming over the magazine pages. 

Your father was the pillar of your family and your mother was the maintenance crew that made sure to preserve that image. Your mother had a mind but that mind was enshrouded with images of your father’s reputation. It must have been an inherited trait to desire to control every and any aspect of life. Her image must be upheld alongside those whom she associates with. 

Of course, you included. It was deceitful to the public that she portrayed herself as a loving mother. You’d tell me that she was the Victorian era’s incarnated embodiment. She loathed you since she laid eyes on you. She had done everything right — met your father, married him, received the power, and bore the clan an heir. During that high, she failed to take into account birthing a daughter. A firstborn daughter, at that. Countless times had she tried to mold you into the perfect woman by attempting to dissuade you from becoming the clan head. Deeming it to be too masculine for a woman. That playing house was biologically instilled within you and that going against it was an act against nature.

Your mother, though married into the family, held the insinuation of being a Gojo best. Her favorite color would have been green if blue didn’t exist. She designated specific blues for the family. Your father was a Royal Blue to commandeer his role in society and accentuate his noble features. His color resembled the waves of The Great Wave off Kanagawa. He carried power in his stride with a color that was made for him.

 Satoru was categorized as a blue which could never be forgotten. You see it once and use it as a reference for describing the perfect hue of blue. It illuminates any kind of room whether it be an office, a library, or a bedroom. It matches each occasion. As a gem, he was a sapphire solitaire. 

Blue is the root of all your problems. From your conception to the present day, blue plagued you because you weren’t a specific hue of blue. Matter of fact, you were the palest blue that painters could find. The kind of blue that was painted in nurseries, the kind that the sky was known for, and the kind that resembles a forget-me-not. As a gem, you belonged in the possession of someone else.

You were cold. No, not because of your appearance but because you decided to wear nothing beneath the baby blue silk pajama set in place of the pair of sweats and the baggy t-shirt you had tucked underneath the floorboard of your closet. You were in your room and you easily could’ve wrapped your blanket around you but didn’t feel like staying in your room. It had as much personality as your public persona. It’s not like you were able to design it. Your mother’s strict aesthetic did not discriminate when it came to your private life. If anything it was meticulously calculated. She wanted it to become a lifestyle rather than a facade. 

You wanted the comfort of a home. This room that has been yours since you were born never grew to become one. The house as a whole was not one either. In hindsight, you should’ve gone to the garden but the chances of running into Toji were too risky. 

Since your night with Toji, you were scared of him. How he made you feel per se. Never in your life had you felt as desired as he made you feel. Sex was coined to be meaningless for people in your age group. Just something that had to be done by a certain cutoff age. From what Yuki had told you, it happens and you move on. So why would you rather let your garden wither than have to face him? 

Intimacy comes with sex, that’s just the nature of it. You knew what you were getting yourself into but the capacity of it left you blindsided. You’ve been praised for your value for so long that you have forgotten that your value was based on your worth besides someone else. Without a name, you were as good as a fine china dining set. You had gone on a whole morality spiel with Satoru about the importance of names and yet you hated when people used your name. That night your name was brought up but instead of it feeling like a weight on your shoulders it was the complete opposite.

A man should never have this sort of hold on you. They never have until him. Not even with guys who looked like him. All the men in the world could disappear in the world and you’d exhale in content but not without the wandering thought of him. 

Nature was a familiar topic for you. Nature and instinct coincide with one another. You adhered to instinct well. That’s why you knew that your relationship with Toji was based on the natural pull of instinct. 

While you were enshrouding yourself to fear, Toji was convinced that you would be the best he ever had and encouraged the thought of seeing you again. He had been going based on late-night fantasies he’s had of you since he was a teenager. How could he not? The desire to want something that is so out of reach yet so agonizingly close? You had manifested into a personalized kink for him. He could freely explain his desires for you ranging from what he wanted to do to putting those desires to practice. He was open in that sense of your relationship. That was the situation until you turned the tide.

You stopped coming to the garden, completely. It could’ve been a coincidence seeing as during that time of year cursed spirits tend to be at an all-time high. However, you aren’t the only sorcerer in the world and you couldn’t possibly be busy enough to neglect your garden. It wasn’t until after the second week of your absence that he clued in that you were avoiding him.

He wasn’t having it. In the same way that he was “having” an overly intoxicated woman grinding her ass on him with no rhythm to save her life. A few weeks ago, she would’ve been the standard- an average girl with big tits and an even bigger ass. He accepted that a lot has changed for him since he met you. He pushed her off and though she scoffed at his rejection she didn’t continue her advances and let him leave. He didn’t even know why he was at this club. He didn’t want to be there. He thought the neon flower light decorations were too tacky compared to what he had grown used to. He didn’t want to see the flowers in the garden, frankly, he didn’t give a fuck about them. He wanted to see you.

You had been in your world when you began to hear taps against your bedroom window. You’d seen clouds earlier that day and had written off the tapping as heavy rain. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you noticed a dark shadowy figure tapping incessantly on your bedroom window. Foolish to even confuse the sounds of Toji Zenin as something so peaceful

You pondered for a while if you should even acknowledge him. You could go about your night and pretend he’s not there. You would’ve followed through if your window didn’t sound like it was on the brink of cracking.

You cracked the window open and immediately started questioning him, “What are you doing here? How’d you even know this was my room?”

For once, Toji wasn’t annoyed by your incessant need to ask trivial questions. He would’ve let you continue with your tangent if it hadn’t felt like it was below zero degrees outside.

“I’ll answer all your questions if you just let me inside. It’s fucking cold out here.” He had the decency to ask but didn’t plan on listening to what you had to say after. He tried to push through the small gap you left open but you blocked it with your body. He raised a brow at your actions, amused by your stance, and cocked his head at you to speak. His expression briefly reminded you of the look he had from that night and you prayed he didn’t hear you gulp. It was dark out and the light from the moon couldn’t make out. 

“Ironic. The man with an inhuman body is getting taken down by a little breeze.”

His eyes darted to your breast and he couldn’t help but lick his lips, “Not the only one that’s being affected.”

You furrowed your brows and let your eyes travel to where his eyes had landed and felt yourself heat up. You weren’t wearing a bra. Why would you? Your nipples pierced through your silk pajama shirt enough that you couldn’t even form a rebuttal. You crossed your arms over one another trying to protect your decency. Again, why would you? He had seen far more than an erect nipple from you.

You shook your head and tried to affirm, “You need to leave. You can’t be here.” You planted yourself in front of the opening and tried hard to play off your embarrassment. He took your attempts as nonsensical.

He planted his elbow on the ledge and used his hand to prop his head, he mused, “You’re gonna make me leave after I’ve gone through all this trouble? You're so cruel, sweetheart.” 

He had used that nickname once before. At the time, you assumed it was a slip of the tongue. Even now, you have followed that same mentality. 

You scoffed and puffed your chest out, “Cruel is one of the many things I’ve been called and I take pride in it.” 

His position remained the same, caring little that his body could enter hypothermia if he remained outside. He continued the banter, “So have I. You’re nothing special, sweetheart.”

Surely, not a slip-up anymore.

“That’s a new one.”

“Like it? Think it matches you well.”

“A lot of words have been used to describe me but sweetheart has to be a new one”, You shook your head in protest and subconsciously side-stepped out of the window opening. Enough to give him an opening, one that you had noticed too late. Your back was already pushed into the wall and his hands were cupping your jaw. You opened your mouth to speak but he had his fill of hearing your voice. His lips caged yours in desperation. His desperation could only be described as Odysseus coming back home after decades away from Ithaca. You couldn’t reprimand him either because as much as you had actively avoided him, you missed this feeling. One that you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Good.” He breathed out before diving back to your lips. His lips suctioned onto yours as if he were sucking the seed out of a cherry. His hands that had been stationed on your chin deviated to the back of your neck, pushing your lips further into his. Breathing did have to happen and with one last peck, he spoke, “I would hate for someone to see you like that.” 

“As a decent person?” You tried to joke and keep the situation airy but you missed the feeling of his lips on yours already. This is what you had been afraid of. He is an addiction you can’t quit once you start. He held that over you and he didn’t even know it.

“You think you're decent?” He asked as his lips traveled down from your lips. Kissing against your chin with the same amount of passion as he had down to lips seconds prior.

You softly exhaled, “Don’t think I’m the worst.”

“Sure, you don’t.”

“And you are?”

“Don’t start putting words in my mouth now.” He scoffed as he sucked harshly against your neck. He let that happen multiple times, each more prominent than the last. You let his mouth ruminate on your neck in bliss. The breeze coming from your window knocks you to your senses.

“We have to stop.” Your room was far enough from the rest of your family’s rooms but you didn’t trust your voice if you did continue on the path you guys were heading toward.

“Have to? Or scared to?” He asked with the intent of getting a legible answer. He knew you avoided things when they got too serious. He’s experienced it firsthand. His hands trailing toward the buttons on your shirt and unbuttoning them with expertise. With your boobs on full display, he let your shirt drop off your shoulders and onto the floor while his fingers wasted no time toying with the nipples that had been taunting him since he had seen them.

“Gotta answer? Your body does.” He mocked before letting one of his hands sweep across your stomach until they found solace in the band of your pajama pants. Just like the bra, you weren’t wearing any panties. His fingers fiddled with the band but restrained themselves from delving further.

“Got anything to do with you disappearing on me?” He whispered into your ear with his eyes targeted at your own. You tried to avoid them by focusing elsewhere but looking up or down you’d still be met with him. 

You groaned from the sensation of his hands, “You want to talk about it now?” 

He squeezed particularly harder on your boob and inched his hands further into your pants then cheekily asked, “Why? Is now a bad time?”

This had to be some form of torture. You wouldn’t put it past Toji to leave you like this. He tends to do things his way and right now was a prime example of it. As you said before, Zenin’s are inherent assholes. However, he was currently the asshole that managed to cause a pool to form in between your legs and the only one capable of doing anything about it.

“I was busy.” You answered quickly. It wasn’t a lie but it also wasn’t the whole truth. You could’ve reached out to him or even gone to the garden. The reasoning as to why briefly left you as you pushed your legs against one another was to absolve you of the tension that he had built up. 

You felt his smirk against your ear before whispering, “Nah I don’t think so.” He dipped his head down to kiss the edge of your cheek that led into your ear. His hand on your boob continued its ministrations while the other one let your pants pool at your ankles before continuing its journey into your cunt. He would stop himself whenever he’d hear your breath falter, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were avoiding me, sweetheart.”

You hummed eagerly, impatiently waiting for his fingers to find your clit. Any conscious reasoning telling you to stop before was shunned by lust. He was satisfied with your admission. He promised himself that he’d edge you the next time he’d get to have you and this reaction was enough for him. His fingers gave you what you wanted and your immediate response was to let out a cry. Your mother was home and unfortunately, her room was the closest to yours. 

You bit your lip to mask the noise but he wouldn’t allow for that. His pace went faster, swirling his finger over the bud and flicking it a few times. He was trying to elicit noise out of you. It was hard to tell before what he was wearing, the moon barely illuminating his figure. He was wearing a black crew neck and sweatpants. Nothing to gawk at. It was his usual clothing but it did give you an idea of your own.

You slid your hand to his bulge and palmed it over his pants. He groaned into your ear, “You're better than that. If you’re gonna do it, you shouldn’t half-ass it, baby.” He let the hand that had been busy on your boob deviate to his waistband pulling his pants along with his boxers down to let out his hardened cock. He grabbed your hand and said, “Spit.”

“W-What?” You stuttered, staring at your hand in awe. 

“Need to wet it before you start to stroke it.”

You were reluctant to do so but did as you were told. He smirked and guided your hand to the base of his cock. You’d never given a handjob before yet you managed to handle his cock with ease. He had to reward you for your hard work and caught your lips before plunging his fingers into your cunt. His groans and your moans fought for dominance as they desperately tried to be heard. 

He was knuckling deep in your pussy while your pace on his cock was faltering. 

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart. You must be wishing my fingers were something else.” He grunted as his pace increased. Your back arched against the wall while your body curled into his. His words held truth but you weren’t going to deny his fingers were doing a good job substituting it. 

Your fingers tried to simulate the same pleasure he had been giving you, trying to remember the porn videos you’d watched when you were younger. You let one of your fingers graze his slit before swirling your finger around the base of the head. 

“Am I doing good?” You panted out between battered breaths.

He sucked on your neck as he praised, “Always s’good f’r me.”

His praise went straight to your core and had you shuddering out an orgasm on his fingers. Though you were wrecked from cumming, you were still adamant about getting Toji to cum. His cock was twitching in your hand and you knew he was getting close. Just when he was close to finishing, he pulled your hand away.

You raised a brow at him and he pecked your lips before quickly replying,  “Wanna cum in you.” 

He tossed his crewneck somewhere amongst the other discarded clothes before lifting you and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“My bed. Now.” That is all you managed to get out of the kiss. He chuckled against your lips before sitting down on your bed and having you straddle him. He tossed his crew neck somewhere amongst the other discarded clothes before cupping your hips in his hands as you leaned in to kiss him. Your hands had tangled themselves in his hair pulling on it as your pussy grinding against his thighs. He halted your movements with his palms, tapping them against your thighs.

“I forgot a condom.”

The Toji Zenin. Forgot a condom. The irony. 

For once, you thanked Yuki for her stupidity. You got off of him, walking toward your closet and searching for the clutch she had let you borrow. Pulling out the box, you tossed them to him before clearing your throat, “Will those work?"

He caught the box and looked at the familiar packaging then smirked up at you, not expecting you to have a stash of condoms but amused that you did. Shaking the box at you, he asks, “Where’d you get these?” 

“A gift from a friend.” You respond as you walk back to him.

“A friend?” He tries to pry, opening the box and pulling out a condom. As far as he’s concerned, he was the only friend you had. 

You narrow your eyes, “Do they fit or not?” 

He chuckles at your insistence but nods, ripping the packaging and putting the condom on with ease. He hooked a hand around your waist, situating it in between his thighs before snaking a hand down to slap your ass catching you off guard. He smirked and challenged, “Still wanna learn how to ride, cowgirl?” 

You flushed at the memory of your first time together. How you managed to be so daring was a mystery to you. It had to be the sex-induced confidence. You’ve heard of a lot of different positions from Yuki. She even gave you a ranking on which positions were best and listed the pros and cons for each one. The downside of this one was stamina and luckily for you and Toji that wasn’t a concern.

You nod your head and you feel his hands on your hips lift you back to the position you were previously in while your hands situated themselves on his shoulders. He kept your hips slightly alleviated from his then used one of his hands to align his cock to your entrance. Not before sliding it along your entrance getting a mewl out of you. 

“Can’t you just put it in?” You irritably asked. Your cunt tried hard to clench on his cock whenever he’d glide it over. 

“Need to give my pretty girl what she wants.” That was his warning before he slammed his cock right into you. Your head lolled to his neck while your nails dug into his shoulders from the impact. A wanton moan followed after the impact and you could only pray no one heard. 

The cocky shit dared to cackle at your reaction. You bit his collarbone but his laugh just became more obnoxious.

He gripped the small of your back, guiding you to bounce up and down on his cock. Compared to your first time, he was handling you in the same manner as he did his hedges, sloppy and rushed. However, just like the hedges he had a method to his madness.

“Just gotta do it like this.” He instructed before whispering in your ear, “Think you can do that, sweetheart?” 

His answer came in the form of another moan and the rolling of your hips into his. You were a fast learner. Such a fast learner that he’d think you’ve done this before. You were going along with what felt right and what would get you closer to the end. With that being said, your awareness about your noise level had been clouded with desire.

“You can’t be so loud. Wouldn’t want your family hearing you be such a slut now would we?” He mocked, rutting his hips into yours at an animalistic pace. He had delayed his orgasm for as long as possible and as he had said he wanted to be in you when he did.

“N-Nooh” Your words and your tone of voice weren’t corresponding to each other. You tried to ignore the way you clenched at the degrading nickname. He wasn’t.

“Oh, you like being called slut?” He growled, harshly slapping your ass causing you to bite down on his collarbone to mask your cries. You tried to match his pace, trying to coordinate with him but it was no use. He was animalistic.

“That’s right. You’re my slut, baby.”

You whimper — something bordering pathetic — but your pride is left on the floor with a whimper being the only noise you could remember. You're nearing your end. He can tell, probably before you can. Your mind is enshrouded in galaxies and nebulas. You wanted it to stay there. You wanted him.

“S’good, baby,” he coaxes, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair from your face. “My pretty girl.” 

You cum hard with his name still on your lips. He caught your moans with his mouth and didn’t relent with his speed trying to catch his end. If he’d continued any longer you would’ve reached your third orgasm of the night. Fortunately, the loud groan he let out in your mouth and the feeling of the condom filling up didn’t let that happen. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t feel like your legs were going to be impaired the next day.

He tied the condom off and tossed it in your bedside trash can. He fell into your mattress pulling you on top of him. Your legs tangled and the both of you were communicating in giggles. 

“Can’t believe you forgot a condom.” You teased, laughing into his chest. 

He seemed flustered by the question, an expression you don’t see often from him. He avoided your eyes and lifted a hand to rub his neck before he answered, “I wasn’t planning for things to go this way.”

“What were you planning?”

You felt him shrug.

“Just wanted to see you I guess.”

“Oh.” Is the safest response you could think of. You guys were friends. It was just now with the added benefits. A sting was felt in your chest at the implication but his hands rubbing circles on the small of your back soothed that sensation away.

It was silent for a while. Neither one of you knew what else to say.

His slowed breathing indicated he’d fallen asleep. You felt safe enough to say what you had initially thought. You left a shy kiss on his chest as you mumbled, “I wanted to see you too.” 

Morning came soon and Toji had left just as fast. By the time you’d woken up, he was gone and the window that had been open was firmly shut. All that was left of him was your discarded clothing from the night before, the condom in your trashcan, and a text from him.

Toji:

Sorry.

You rolled your eyes at the text. Why’d he apologize for leaving? You sent a question mark and tossed your phone on your mattress. You threw your pajamas into your hamper before putting on a robe, grabbing a change of clothes, and walked out of your room and toward your bathroom. 

A shriek of your name caused you to turn around. Satoru was standing a few feet away from you with his eyes beyond the words of terror.

“Your neck!”

Curse that Zenin fuck.

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a/n: sorry for the three month break! honestly had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I decided to rewatch the anime and saw some edits on tiktok that sparked my inspiration. the next couple of chapters are going to be heavily reliant on action as to stay relevant to the anime. Also, I have a playlist that I use when I'm writing for this fic. Here's the link!

references:

Taming of the Shrew: Lucentio loves Bianca but cannot court her until her shrewish older sister Katherina marries. The eccentric Petruccio marries the reluctant Katherina and uses a number of tactics to render her an obedient wife. Lucentio marries Bianca and, in a contest at the end, Katherina proves to be the most obedient wife.

As You Like It: Rosalind and her cousin escape into the forest and find Orlando, Rosalind's love. Disguised as a boy shepherd, Rosalind has Orlando woo her under the guise of "curing" him of his love for Rosalind. Rosalind reveals she is a girl and marries Orlando during a group wedding at the end of the play.

The Great Wave off Kanegawa: famous japanese painting.

tag list:

@cococola-cocaine @justtnat @softvgold @missroro

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make sure to reblog, like, and comment! they really help me know what you guys like and don't like!

Chapter 8 Coming Soon

Chapter 8 might be coming sooner than expected...