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Masterlist - by flor

Toji x curvy f!reader

A/n: first time writing something like this hehe so here goes nothing bear with me please please…. And let me know what you think!!!!

You tell yourself, from the very beginning, that this marriage was never supposed to feel like this.

Toji was never supposed to feel like this.

Your arranged husband — the man who nearly wiped out half of the rotten Zenin clan before stopping for you — was not meant to be soft anywhere. Your first memory of him is blood on his knuckles and that calm, terrifying composure in his eyes. The clan called him a monster. The elders whispered that he was unstable. The women pitied you.

But what they never saw what only you slowly began to notice was the way his gaze would always soften after a fight when it found you. Just for a second. Just long enough to say: I won’t let that touch you.

Inside the walls of your shared home, he was something else entirely.

Still smug. Still a menace. But calmer with you. Playful in the smallest, most infuriating ways.

You were never lovey-dovey. There were no whispered sweet nothings. No soft confessions. You barely even touched each other. The marriage existed like a contract paper-thin and emotionally distant.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You were curvy. Soft where you thought he preferred sharpness. You weren’t magazine unbelievable standards pretty. Not cosmetic, not Victoria secret model sculpted. Just… you. Stretch marks, tummy rolls, uneven breasts, skin that felt real under your fingers. You lived in moomoo dresses and funky pajamas, hair thrown into a bun or braid. No makeup unless absolutely necessary. Modest when you stepped out. Comfortable when you stayed in.

You never thought you were ugly.

You just never thought you were his type.

And then tonight happened.

The bathroom was filled with steam and music humming low in the background. An everything shower. Skincare lined across the counter. Lotions. Oils. And the main character the wax machine heating quietly.

You’d never waxed before. Never shaved not even down there. Never cared. You trimmed for hygiene and that’s it.

But your friends’ voices echoed in your mind —Men love it smooth. Wear silk. Let the moomoos go wear a slip on for easier access. Leave your panties preferably thongs on the floor. Make him hungry make him worship you.

It crawled under your skin. Not because you believed them. You didn’t. If a man needed theatrics to want you, then he didn’t really want you and that was pathetic.

But still.

Something made you melt the wax.

Something made you stand there in the steamy bathroom in nothing but your robe.

And something else incredibly stupid made you apply the hot wax directly onto your cooch before even testing it anywhere else.

The moment it touched your skin you gasped not expecting it to be this goddamn hot, as it hardened, panic set in.

You stared at it like it was a bomb.

And that’s when you realised you couldn’t pull it! You couldn’t bring yourself to actually pull it which made you unlock the bathroom door run to grab your phone and back in.

You dialed your friend in a frenzy.

“Don’t laugh, you idiot. Please. I can’t pull it off. My pussy can’t handle this.”

Not gaining anything other than teaseful remarks.

No help.

Call ended.

And then—

A low chuckle from the door.

The door you were sure you had locked.

You flinched, clutching your robe closed. “What the fuck, Toji! How long have you been here” you ask in absolute panic.

He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, head tilted slightly. “I was going to knock. Door was open. And since you started asking if you could just leave it o-“

You turn around embarrassed.

Then you remembered You had left it open. Running for your phone.

He took a slow step forward. Behind you.

“You know if you wanted me to see you naked you could’ve just asked doll” you can hear the smirk in his tone.

You turn back to face him, heart beating too fast there’s no way that’s healthy because you still have that wax stripe on you. “Now is not the time for your snarky comments!”

His eyes flicked downward, clearly trying to peek. Head nodding “Yeah you’re right, Lemme see. Maybe I can help.”

Your eyes open wide “No. No. No. Get out.”

A smug smirk tugged at that scarred lip. “You shy? I won’t bite y’know.”

“OUT TOJI, NOW!”

He sighed dramatically. “You know it’ll hurt worse if you hesitate.”

Your hands flew around signalling him to get out.

He turned to leave — slow on purpose, you were sure especially by his whistling.

The second he was gone. You ran to shut the door… halfway.

And you tried. You really did try.

You pulled.

Not even half an inch.

Pain exploded through you.

“Fuck— fuck— T-Toji—!” You called out whiny unintentionally and you immediately smack your hands on your mouth.

He was back in like he never even left. No hesitation. No teasing this time.

You couldn’t even look at him. You just stood there trembling.

And then he did something that made your soul attempt to leave your body — he untied your robe, without second thought.

You wanted to disappear.

Insecurities you didn’t even have started screaming at once. Your stomach. Your stretch marks. Your breasts. Every little thing you’d never cared about suddenly burned under his gaze.

But he wasn’t mocking you.

He was staring like he’d just uncovered something sacred.

“Jesus,” he muttered, voice low. “Why’ve you been hiding all this from me huh?” In a growl.

If he wasn’t looking at you the way he currently was genuinely — you would’ve thought he was bluffing.

Instead, his hands hovered over you caressing your curves. Careful. Curious.

“You really are something, aren’t ya doll?”

You shoved his hands away. “Focus.”

You guided his palm to the hardened wax.

He exhaled through his nose. “Can’t do it standing. It’ll hurt more.”

Before you could even say anything , he carried the wax heater in one hand and yours in the other, leading you to the bedroom.

“Lay down” but before you could even process any of what was happening. He laid you down gently. Hovering you a little.

Spreading your thighs. Quietly.

Positioned himself between them like this was the most natural thing in the world. As his hands brought your leg on his shoulders now being placed perfectly in between.

You yelped. Heat. Heat that’s all you were able to feel at this moment.

“I’ll count,” he said.

“One—”

He pulled on two.

Pain shot through you so violently your eyes shutting tight and your back arched.

“YOU SAID YOU’D COUNT!” Was all you could let out.

He ignored you, already smoothing another strip on.

“I- it’s the lip,” you panicked. “Toji. No. No—” you were so sure the skin would be peeled off too.

He murmured something low, soothing, but you were too busy preparing for death.

He pulled.

Tears welled instantly.

He worked methodically. Efficient. Like he’d done this a thousand times — though you were certain he hadn’t. Or hoped he didn’t.

He didn’t give you a chance to even feel the pain from how fast he was moving already working on the other lip but making sure to press down on the skin he’d just tortured.

Another pull. This time that broken, breathless sound escaped you — that raw, helpless noise — “Nghhhhh fuc- Toji” something shifted in his expression. Not cruel. Not predatory.

Hungry

You immediately bit down on your lips hands over your eyes in shame and frustration.

“Let it out, ma,” he murmured too low sending vibrations down your spine.

You hated that he had you like this.

Hated that he was so steady.

Hated that his hands knew exactly how to press against your skin to soothe the burn afterward.

By the time you were still dying in embarrassment. He had you flipped over on your stomach in a split second. Pulling you closer by your ankles. Too close your ass came straight to his clothed bulge. Your knees went weak feeling wet by this small indirect touch.

Eyebrows knitted together he lowered himself face too close in concentration Toji was busy working his way through your crack, you were too gone to even argue. You swore you could feel his breath on your heat.

As he turns you on your back again, your eyes were filled with tears not because of the wax only. But because of everything that is happening in this moment.

As he was busy working his way through the end.

You were just laying there. Defeated.

Suddenly…

He leaned down. Your eyes follow his movement closely as he goes down on you.

Licking his lips.

And pressing the softest, quickest kiss against your burning skin.

You froze. Your body tensing up.

As you slurred out incoherent babbles.

“That’s to keep the booboo away,” he said like he was reassuring you.

“Be careful with her for me, Kay doll.”

Her.

Like she belonged to both of you.

He tied your robe back up. Cleaned everything before leaving you there. Sweating, shaking and internally cursing yourself.

“Leave the rest and let me do it next time yeah.”

As he leaves the room. You were quick to pick a pillow from behind you, and scream so loud in it.

He laughed from down the hall.

And that’s when something changed.

Because after that, he got worse.

Or better.

He’d sit in front of you while you were on the couch and casually pick up your feet and massage it fiddling with your toes. Kneel to strap your heels, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your ankle. Unzip your dress from behind and “accidentally” unclip your bra before walking away like nothing happened.

Trace patterns on your back while you napped in the living room. Kiss your armpit if you lifted your arms to dry your hair, earning a sharp smack to his chest and that damn amused grin.

And the worst part?

You were still technically distant.

No grand confessions. No official shift in status.

But now there was tension. Heat simmering under every interaction.

Now when he fought, he’d glance at you afterward — calmer than before — like he knew exactly what he’d touched in you that night.

Like he knew you weren’t hiding anymore.

And sometimes, when he’d pass by you in the hallway, fingers grazing your waist just briefly enough to spark something, he’d murmur:

“So… when’s the next wax session?”

And you’d hate how your heart skipped.

Because the beginning of something more with Toji wasn’t fireworks.

It wasn’t romance.

It was tension. Teasing. Control slipping little by little.