.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ toji's gf

tojis halfway through a phone call when you climb onto the couch beside him, immediately curling into his side while he keeps talking, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions behind you and his phone pressed to his ear.

its something about money, something about work, something thats got his brows pulled together while he listens with that oh so familiar rough expression.

"yeah, I heard you," he mutters "then tell 'im I aint payin extra."

meanwhile, youre completely occupied with him.

your fingers find the side of his hair first, gently combing through the shorter strands near his temple while your cheek rests against his shoulder. toji keeps listening while you continue absent mindedly playing with him. your hand drifts lower, tracing the line of his jaw before finding his collar, smoothing it down and then fiddling with it again for no reason other than you just felt like touching it.

"because that aint what we agreed on." he says into the phone, voice steady despite the fact youve now moved on to his hands.

you turn one of them over in your lap, running your thumb along old scars and rough knuckles, tracing every line in his skin with a quiet concentration while the conversation continues.

the man on the other end keeps talking, and toji tries listening.

then your fingers slide to the rolled sleeves of his top, adjusting them before trailing slowly down his forearm, following the muscle there with light touches that dont mean much to you and mean everything to him.

his jaw tightens slightly. "yeah," he mutters into the phone, "mhm"

by now youve found his hand again, interwining your fingers with his, turning them, tracing the shape of his thumb while leaning a little more heavily into his side.

youre not even looking at him, youre just happy sitting there, all soft and sweet, quietly occupying yourself with whatever part of him happens to be within your reach.

the silence on the other end of the call stretches.

"...you still there?" the guy asks.

toji blinks once, realizing he hasnt heard a godamn thing for the last minute. his eyes drop to you where youre curled against him, happily playing with his fingers while resting your cheek on his shoulder.

"yeah." he says "keep talkin."

but his free hand is already settling over yours, thumb brushing across your knuckles while he looks down at you for a second longer than necessary, then he leans over and presses a rough distracted kiss against the top of your head without interrupting the call, squeezing your hand once before settling back into the couch.

toji still isnt listening to the man on the phone, not with you tucked into his side playing with his hair, his sleeves, his hands, every soft little touch way too distracting.

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colored pencils on acrylic background

how after season 3 of the boys, ben will swear never to trust anyone again after the butcher situation— even his so called deranged son.

but things happen, and ben finds himself, once again, going against his own blood in pursuit of being a good person and "saving the world" big woop.

he's working with the boys again. it was stupid, he knew that even if his brain has been frozen for decades.

with his normal squared shoulders and perfect soldier posture, he strolled like he owned the place through whatever bunker butcher and his no good friends were cooking shit up in for the last couple of weeks.

his gaze first shifted to the french one and his girlfriend, who were seemingly arguing in some fucked up form of sign language he definitely didn't understand.

a few feet away from them was starlight and her scraggly little boyfriend, the one who always seemed like he wan't trying to look scared. the soldier gave the unearthly power of hearing heartbeats to his son, so he could tell hughie was putting on an act by the way his heart start pounding as his boots started on the concrete.

to his surprise, a trio instead of a duo were seated to ben's right. mother's milk, butcher who walked behind mm to start taking apart his gun. in contrast to the two burly men, was a smaller woman who he had for sureeeee never seen before.

you were adorable– thats how he'd describe you. you sat criss cross on a swivel chair with what ben learned to be a "laptop" on your lap. makes sense.

you looked at him with the same false confidence that hid behind hughie's eyes. but when he looked at you he saw something deeper. like your big, bright eyes held admiration towards him.

ben stomped his combat boots straight towards the pretty girl, and because of where she was seated, she had to tilt her head almost straight up to look at the man in front of her.

the solider noticed the strain on her neck immediately and crouched down to her level. he got pretty close– close enough where m and frenchie gave each other a side eye across the room.

"i don't think we met. who are you, sweetheart?" his voice was deep, sooooo deep. you thought maybe he should be called the deep because of the growl behind his words oh goodness-

butcher cleared his throat behind you after you let a few too many seconds go by without answering solider boys question.

"tha's our girl behin' the scenes eh?" billy gestured towards you and you let out a smile and nod toward ben and stuck out your hand to introduce yourself.

ben shook your hand gently and noticed soft your palms were, especially for someone in this kind of buisness.

ben smirked at you. you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks jussssst a tad. i mean c'mon you were fascinated with supes. and he was like the most famous to ever live of course your flustered!

soldier boy clicked his tongue at you before standing back to his full height again.

"i'm in if she's in."

ac: noonrema

translation:

visiting lumberjack!toji at work…

you drive up to the lumberyard, wearing your prettiest dress, flaunting your big diamond ring on your left hand. You hold Toji’s lunch in hand, having brought him several homemade meals for his long work day. You’re very aware how much your husband can eat, especially when working himself so hard. The strong earthy smell of wood fills your lungs, the loud buzzing of chainsaws making your brain rattle. It’s a miracle he didn’t come home with a headache every day.

One of the men sits a pile of wood, half-eaten sandwich in hand, dirt under his nails and wood chips under his boots. He squints his eyes at you for a few seconds before recognizing you. He swallows his food, shouting over his shoulder, “Fushiguro, your wife is here!”

“Thank you,” you giggle, walking past him and towards your husband. His eyes locked with yours, a smile adorning his face when he threw his hard hat to the floor, scooping you off of your feet. “Toji! I have a dress on!” You squeal.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He lets you back down on your feet. “I just missed you.” He presses a kiss to your lips. “Mmm, don’t you look gorgeous.” His eyes rake over your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“Do you like the dress? It’s new.” You smile at him, grabbing his hand.

“I love it,” he growls in your ear, squeezing the back of your thighs. “I could eat you up right now.”

“Behave, Mister,” you warn.

“Yes Ma’am.” He smirks at you, kissing your cheek.

“I would love to spend your lunch with you, but I need to run some errands, get the house cleaned.” You hand him his lunch.

“Awe, come on! Not even five minutes? You know…there’s a lot we can do in five minutes—”

“Oh my gosh, Toji!” You slap your hand over his mouth, earning a laugh from him. “Stop that!”

“You act like I haven’t said worse. We both know how you like to be treated in the bedroom—”

“Stop!” You slap your hand over his mouth again, looking around the yard to see if any of his coworkers heard.

“Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you,” he snorts, hands settling on your waist.

“You’re so annoying!” You whine, playfully slapping his shoulder.

“You love it.” He presses a long kiss to your lips. “Now go and do what you need to do, baby. I love you, and I’ll see you at home.” He pecks your lips again.

“I love you too.” You squeeze his hand before turning to walk away only to feel Toji’s hand smack your ass. “Toji!”

“Alright, I’m actually done this time! Swear!” He throws his hands up in surrender. He watches as you walk away, solely focused on the way your ass moves in that new dress, hypnotizing him.

“Hell of a woman you got there, Fushiguro,” his colleague states, standing beside him.

Toji glares at him before smacking him upside the head. “Point your fucking eyes somewhere else, yeah? That’s my wife.”

you don't have to look outside to know which car's music is shaking the thin foundation of your tiny apartment like a leaf. you slip outside in record time, ignoring the judgmental looks your roommates give you as you haul your weekend bag out the door.

something about this little routine sparks butterflies in your stomach every time. you just can't find it in you to shake the excitement you feel every friday, knowing he'll be out front by the time the sun sets. parked sideways with his hazards on and the roof down, music cranked so high you can feel the bass in your chest.

toji's car is probably the flashiest thing about him. polished, modded, and complete with a sound system that'd put an auditorium to shame. he leans over the door to give you a once over, mouth curled up in that lazy grin that makes your teeth clench.

"get your sweet ass over here." he urges, crooking two fingers towards himself before turning the music down. he pops the driver's side to stand and greet you properly, arms wrapping around your waist as soon as your body meets his.

“i missed you.” you sigh suddenly feeling emotional now that you're wrapped in his arms you can still smell your perfume lingering between the fibers of his hoodie. even through the different layers of soap, and smoke, and his own cologne. you're so relieved to see him that you almost feel like crying.

“fuck, baby.” he laughs softly, petting the crown of your head. you do this every single time, and he absolutely loves it. “you saw me last week, yeah? don't cry.”

❥ Toji loves it when you say his name

Toji didn't believe in love.

That is, until you said his name like the letters embodied it.

See, Toji has always had bad memories associated with his name. In his vocabulary, it was a word to be spat out, to be muttered upon like it was a curse—and to many people, it truly was. If the Time Vessel Association assigned him to be the assassin, well... let's just say the target most likely wouldn't live to see another.

So when you said his name for the first time, with that friendly smile on your kindred face, his heart skipped a beat.

Yeah, that's right. The battle-hardened tough ass killer who had always claimed that love was bullshit named Toji Fushiguro had his heart skipping a beat when you'd opened your mouth.

What the hell?, Toji had thought as he watched the back of your departing figure animatedly talking to your friend until you disappeared by the corner.

And the same went when you came up with a nickname for him.

The two of you were strolling around Ameyoko; the night was young and it was a Friday. All your friends were out or studying for the upcoming test and Toji was free of any missions that day. And so he mustered up the courage and asked you—with the difficulty and awkwardness of typical Fushiguro—and you agreed with a beam that resulted in a warm bloom in Toji's metal heart.

You were looking around at stores in slight wonder, your eyes widening in curiosity or delight every so often at the small papers and trinkets you'd see inside. Toji was enjoying the sights too—except he was looking at you, admiring your naturally kind stance, and stealing glances when he couldn't resist. He noticed that there was this subtle glow you emitted that seemed to magnetize things to you—little children who would smile at you when you wave at them, small dogs that would come up to you and rub against your ankles as you scratched them behind the ears and cooed. You didn't know it, but you were magnetizing Toji in too; the man was falling bit by bit and he wasn't sure if he wanted to stand back up again.

"Hey," you smiled warmly,—there goes that smile again, he thought—waving a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Toji?"

Toji blinked, looking away and forward in embarrassment. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, just..." he snuck a look back at you, finding your softly grinning face already lighting him up like electricity zapping the tips of his toes and traveling up his spine. "admiring the view."

"It is beautiful, isn't it, 'Ji?" you said, breathing in deeply. "Nighttime in Tokyo is really something else."

Toji however, couldn't focus on anything anymore except to walk straight.

Ji? he thought, his eyes dazed. She called me... Ji?

He blinked, warmth blooming in his chest and spreading up to his cheeks. It sounded beautiful in your mouth, like dandelions swaying gently under the fresh spring breeze. Like the sun setting after a long day and casting a golden glow on the city. Like the stars sprinkled across a shimmering night as the moon settled high in the sky and coated the world in silver.

Toji kissed you real hard that day.

And now, 30 years later, here you were, sitting on the kitchen counter and humming with a book in your hand, that damn smile still on your lips, still the same even after decades of aging. Toji thought you looked even more angelic than usual.

"Hi ma," he breathed, his eyes going soft and melty.

"Hi, sweetheart," you greeted, hopping off the counter to place a gentle kiss on his jaw. "How was your sleep?"

"Not so good," Toji exhaled, pressing your hand to his lips and trailing it to rest on his cheek. "I didn't get to wake up with you on my side,"

You laughed, lightly patting him with the hand on his face "Age grows you softer, my dear."

"Not age," Toji said, wrapping you up in a delicate hug and rocking you back and forth as the early sun rays filtered through the window to bathe you two in a soft glow. "Just you,"

"Oh, Ji."

And his heart never failed to skip a beat to that nickname.

MASTERLIST

dividers by @fae-and-wolf

playing with toji’s monstrously big tits. ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

you’re perched on toji’s lap, legs draped over one side as he leans back against the couch. the two of you are supposed to be “talking seriously,” or at least that was the plan before you noticed his really, really tight shirt showing his… muscles.

“so, you think this plan’s actually gonna work?” he asks, his arms were crossed. not really noticing your hands creeping closer to him, or the way your fingers twitch, itching to explore a little.

“probably,” you murmur, tilting your head like you’re considering something super deep, “i guess so, who knows.” your fingers brush lightly over his chest, just barely teasing the fabric of his shirt, feeling the firmness underneath.

he frowns. “what the—are you even listening to me?”

you don’t even look at him. instead, your hand slides a little further until your fingers are pressing against one of his pecs. “huh,” you say thoughtfully, “sure sure i’m listening.”

“oi woman, what the fuck are you doin’?” he snaps, frozen for a second.

“they were calling me!” you say, tilting your head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, fingers still pressing lightly against him.

“what the fuck do you mean, ‘calling you’?” he blurts out, blinking at you like you just announced you’d discovered a secret alien language, his hands frozen mid-air now as he tries to process what you’re actually doing.

you look up at him, one hand giving his chest a squeeze again, feeling him tense under your fingers. “like… your boobs. they were calling me.”

“can you—fuck, woman, let go.” his eyes go wide, then narrow. “and boobs? what the fuck are you saying? these aren’t fucking boobs—”

“sure they are,” you say, mock-serious, squeezing again, this time a little harder. “pretty sure these are boobs. feels like boobs.”

“they’re not boobs, they’re… chest muscles. pecs. goddamn it.” he growls, one hand finally trying to push your hand away, but you’re just too quick.

“pecs, boobs… tomato, tomato,” you shrug, pressing your cheek against his shoulder for extra leverage. “they just… feel like boobs, look at how big they are! i had to check!”

“check?! oi, woman, that’s assault!” he’s flailing a little, trying to get your hands off him without hurting you, but you’re laughing too hard to stop, hair falling over your face as you wiggle a bit.

“i had to answer the call. they were lonely,” you say, squishing the other one for good measure, watching him groan in defeat.

“fuck. alright, alright, that’s enough. stop.” he mutters, rubbing his face with one hand.

“noo, why?” you tease, leaning back but keeping just enough contact to make him groan again. “ugh, they’re bigger than mine.”

he glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it—just that mix of exasperation and disbelief that makes it impossible not to giggle at. “you’re insane. absolutely batshit insane.”

“thank you,” you say, patting his chest lightly one last time before finally sliding off his lap, grinning. “i try.”

he flops back into the couch, muttering under his breath, “don’t do that shit ever again.”

“no promises,” you say, sticking your tongue out at him.

being the crafty man he is, he finds a childlike joy in placing all of the silverware and cutlery a shelf or two too high, easily out of your reach. cue your voice calling out to him for aid, clambering over the counter like a liability to yourself before he tugs you off the marble and hands you a glass. “might have to put a couple inches in ya if this is such an issue.”

he’s always got his hands on you. you could be making breakfast, and he’s peppering kisses along the column of your throat. on a train-ride together, his chest is pressed right against your back, keeping you rooted in place. if you’re out with your friends, a textured palm is resting on your thigh like it belongs there. you’re far from timid, but toji has a way of making you faint of heart with just the feel of his hand coiled around your waist to keep you flush against his muscled side, leaving you lightheaded and dizzy under his featherlight touch.

whenever you’re acting out and mouthing off, he has no issue putting you right in your place with a click of his tongue and chides that shut you right up. heat rises to your cheeks and you can’t help but stare at the ground as he scolds you, though part of you finds his firmness unfairly sexy.

you never have to know where you’re going as long as his hand is in yours, your personal six-foot something gps that leads you to whatever shopping center or cafe you’re set on visiting while he sorts out the logistics.