#stonehearted

Toji x Reader

Taking place during the Heian era, you and Toji Zenin, the current Zenin clan leader,  have been married for months in an arranged union. Despite your best efforts to build a connection, he has remained distant and emotionally closed off. Slowly but surely, the weight of his indifference and infidelity begins to wear you down, leaving you emotionally drained and tired of chasing warmth that was never there to begin with.

AN: Back with a new fic! I might finish the previous one another day, but I'm most excited for this one. There isn't much plot here since this is just an introduction. Part 2 will be coming very soon, I have a draft of it rn. Anyways enjoy this part for now and remember to follow for part 2! Leave a like and comment as well. These are posted on my ao3 account as well, user in bio <33 (wc:1.2k)

Part 1

You and Toji Zenin have been bound in marriage for several months now. It was an arranged union, one neither of you had chosen but both had accepted out of family obligation. From the very beginning, you made every effort to bridge the distance between you, hoping that time and patience would eventually melt the barrier he kept so firmly in place.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and eventually, the months began to feel like years. Yet despite all your efforts, Toji remained the same emotionless, distant, and cold husband. There was no warmth in his words, no tenderness in his gaze. It felt as if you were living with a stranger carved from stone. 

Whispers began to swirl quietly through the household, soft at first, like distant echoes carried by the wind. Servants exchanged uneasy glances, and hushed conversations abruptly fell silent whenever you entered a room. It did not take long before the rumors grew louder, forming gossip about Toji's frequent absences and mysterious late-night returns. People began to talk about the women he was seen with in the city, the lavish dinners he supposedly attended with others, and the intimate company he kept while you waited alone in the home you shared.

Although no one dared to say it to your face, the truth clung to every word spoken behind closed doors. Toji was unfaithful. The man who could not spare a kind word for you seemed to have no trouble charming and flirting with others. While you tried to keep the marriage afloat, holding onto fragments of hope, he had already turned his attention elsewhere. Every passing rumor became a quiet wound, confirming what you had feared all along. His heart had never been yours in the first place.

Little by little, the weight of his indifference and infidelity began to wear you down. Your hope that things might change started to fade, replaced by quiet exhaustion. You were growing weary, not just of his icy demeanor but of trying to reach someone who had no desire to be reached.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice sharp as he steps out of the shower, a towel slung low around his waist. Water still clings to his skin, but the warmth of the steam does nothing to soften his expression when he sees you standing in his room. He narrows his eyes, clearly irritated by your presence. "Did I give you permission to be here?" he says coldly, the glare in his eyes cutting deeper than his words ever could.

"I bought some tea for you." You said as you held a tray with a teapot and two cups, looking at him as if you wanted to spend some tea time together. One last try to form a connection, you thought to yourself. All your efforts had been in vain, and you wanted to give this one last shot, “Would you want to-”

“Leave.” He cut you off, turning his back against you, not even glancing at you. You bit your lip in anger as you placed the tray on the table in front of you, turning around and sliding the door closed behind you. 

He watches you leave, his expression unchanging. As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he lets out a small sigh. He runs a hand through his damp hair, his gaze lingering on the closed door. "Stupid tea," he mutters to himself. "Stupid wife."

You stood outside the door, your back pressed against the wooden door. Every word he spoke reached your ears with painful clarity, each one a quiet reminder of how unwelcome you were in his world. A soft sigh escaped your lips, weary and worn.

For months, you had tried to win his favor, clinging to any sliver of hope that he might eventually warm to you. You wore the perfumes men typically liked, dressed in ways you thought might catch his attention, subtly revealing just enough to remind him that you were his wife. But none of it ever made a difference.

The worst of it all still lingered in your memory—your wedding night. A moment meant for closeness, for vulnerability, and for new beginnings, but instead, he left you alone in that cold, empty bed you were supposed to share. That night, the silence between you spoke louder than any rejection ever could. 

After a few minutes, he finishes getting dressed and heads out of his room, not bothering to call out for you. As he walks down the hallway, he spots you still standing there, your head bowed.

He stops in front of you, his eyes cold as he looks down at you.

"Did you enjoy the tea?" you asked quietly, your eyes fixed on the floor. You didn’t dare meet his gaze. From a young age, you were taught to treat your husband with unwavering respect, to serve him with grace and obedience no matter how he responded. It was tradition, etched into your upbringing like a rule carved in stone. And so, you stood there, waiting for a simple reply, even if you already knew not to expect one.

"Tea?" His voice is flat, completely devoid of warmth. "Don't know, didn't try it." He takes a step closer, towering over you deliberately. "And why are you still standing here? Don't you have other things to do?"

"I was heading to eat dinner," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a dismissive sneer. "Dinner? You're already skinny enough," he said, his words laced with cruel sarcasm, "Go on then. Wouldn’t want you to starve, now would we?"

You hesitated for a moment, swallowing the sting of his comment before responding. "No…" You murmured, lifting your eyes to meet his for just a second. "I’ll get going now." Turning away, you walked down the corridor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Behind you, his gaze lingered for a moment before his expression grew even colder. 

As you turned the corner, the sound of his footsteps fading behind you, you heard him mutter under his breath, "Pathetic." The word stung more than you expected, the sharpness of his contempt lingering in the air like an invisible weight. A slight shake of his head followed, as if in disbelief at your very existence. You could almost picture the disgusted look on his face, but you didn’t dare turn around to confirm it.

He didn’t bother to say anything more. Instead, he simply turned on his heel and continued down the hallway in the opposite direction, his pace quickening as if he couldn’t be bothered to spare you another thought.

You stood there for a moment, the emptiness of his dismissal echoing in your chest. His silence had always spoken louder than any cruel words ever could. It was the last straw. From that point onwards, you swore to give up on tradition and everything you were taught. If he could treat you like that, why should you bother with stupid obedience and submission as a wife?

AN: Tysm if you've read until here, its a short part yes but part 2 will be much longer, remember to like and follow for part 2!

I left with my baggage Filled with dreams To come true I came back with my baggage Emptied out because of you.

At your table I left my mellow heart That's replaced now with a stone made of ice Half breathing neglected and misled I got back home and from now on I live in hell

Feed me more with those beautiful fables, love White horses Castle towers Prince charmings in every corner I was so blind and couldn't see You brought madness into my daydream

I left with my eyes open wide eager to see every little thing I came back with my eyes closed tired After the storm of overflowing tears

Toji x Reader

Part 1 here

AN: A lot of arguing and bickering in this part. Anyways enjoy! (wc: ~3.4k)

Part 2

He returned to his room after eating his dinner, where the tea was still there, closing the door behind him. His gaze immediately falls on the untouched tea sitting on his desk. He stands there for a moment, staring at it before suddenly reaching out and grabbing the cup. It was still slightly warm, and it smelled good. He brings the cup to his nose, smelling the tea. His eyebrows shoot up slightly. It genuinely smells good. He takes a small sip, his eyes widening slightly. It's sweet, just the way he likes it. His expression slowly softens slightly. He takes another sip, then another.

He finds himself drinking the entire cup without realizing it. As he sets the empty cup back down, he feels a strange sense of warmth spread through him. It's not just the heat of the tea, but something else. Something he can't quite put his finger on. "Damn thing actually tastes decent." He mumbled to himself. 

He glances at the empty cup, then back at the door. He's not one to easily admit defeat or show appreciation. But this tea... it was good. Really good. He finds himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, you're not as useless as he initially thought.

He suddenly stands up, his chair scraping against the floor. He walks over to the door, opening it quietly. Peeking out into the hallway, looking both ways before stepping out and walking towards the dining room, his footsteps were silent,  "Where is she..."

You were having your dinner quietly as usual in the dining room. Rice, meat, fish, and vegetable dishes decorated the table, serving for one person. He pauses in the doorway of the dining room, watching you eat alone at the table. The food looks delicious and arranged. He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he observes you. Your eating habits are surprisingly neat and polite, unlike his messy style.

It wasn't your first time eating alone, so you didn't notice his presence at first. He watches you for a few moments longer, his expression unreadable. He pushes off the doorframe and walks silently into the dining room, approaching the table from behind you. He stops right behind your chair, close enough that you can feel his presence but not close enough to touch.

"Ah tha-" You said before looking up at him towering over you, "Oh... I thought you were a servant." You sounded disappointed as you turned back to continue eating. He raises an eyebrow at your disappointed reaction to seeing him instead of a servant. He pulls out a chair opposite to you and sits down, grabbing a chopstick to start stealing food from your plates. He helps himself to the rice, meat, fish, and vegetables, not asking for permission.

You glared at him stealing your food, "If you’re still hungry, you could have told a servant." He pauses mid-bite, glancing up at you with a mildly annoyed smirk. "Why bother with servants when the food is already right here?" He shrugs, continuing to help himself to your meal without apology. After swallowing a large bite of fish, he leans back, studying you curiously.

Ignoring his loud munches and chewing, you continued eating quietly. He watches you eat silently again. Your mannerisms are ladylike and quiet, unlike his own loud eating habits. He steals another piece of meat from your plate, testing your reaction. When you don't complain or swat his hand away, he steals another piece, then another. "You eat slowly." He said as he stuffed another piece into his mouth. 

"You eat too fast. Might cause stomach problems." You replied. He pauses with a chopstick of rice halfway to his mouth, looking momentarily surprised, then with a slight smirk, he quickly shovels the rice into his mouth anyway. He chews loudly, deliberately exaggerating the action as if daring you to nag him further about his manners.

You furrowed your brows slightly, a sense of frustration bubbling inside you. He had ruined the entire meal. Invading your space, noisily chewing with an almost deliberate disregard for your comfort. The sound of each bite, loud and grating, seemed to echo through the room, each one making it harder to focus on anything but his inconsiderate behavior.

You tried to push through it, taking another bite, but the food suddenly tasted bland, as if the tension in the air had soured everything around you. With a sigh, you placed your chopsticks down, the movement slow and deliberate. You looked at your plate for a long moment, but no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the irritation lingered, thick and uncomfortable, in the pit of your stomach.

He watches as you place your chopsticks down, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He's successfully ruined your meal, just as he intended. He reaches out and steals the last piece of meat from your plate, popping it into his mouth with a triumphant grin. "Done already?"

"Leaving room for dessert later." You glanced away, raising your glass and taking a sip of water. His eyes flick down to your lips as you sip the water. He swallows hard, suddenly realizing that he's been enjoying this little meal argument more than he should. He sets his chopsticks down, mimicking your action. "Dessert, huh?"

You glanced at him and he held your gaze, his smirk softening into a more genuine expression. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "What kind of dessert are you thinking? Something sweet I hope."

"What would you like?" You looked at him as you placed your glass down. He uncrosses his arms slowly, watching your graceful movements. "Hmm..." He was pretending to think hard, "Chocolate?" He watches your expression closely wanting to see what your reaction will be.

"Then tell it to a servant." You replied coldly. He runs his thumb thoughtfully across his lower lip, suppressing a smile at your sudden coldness. "Where's the fun in that? I'd rather get it directly from the lady herself." He leans forward slightly, maintaining eye contact.

"Would you rather I make you one?" You raised an eyebrow. His eyebrows shoot up in pleasant surprise, clearly not expecting that offer. A slow grin spreads across his face as he leans back in his chair, shrugging casually. "Well, if the lady insists... Sure, l'd love to see you try your hand at dessert-making. 

You rolled your eyes. "I'd rather be the dessert." you mumbled to yourself. He freezes mid-grin, his eyes locking onto yours with an intense focus. For a moment, he's speechless, his mind racing to comprehend what he just heard. Then, his grin widens into a hungry smile, his gaze lingering on your lips, "What was that?"

"Well, too bad I'm not good at cooking or baking," you said with a forced smile, the corners of your lips lifting though your heart wasn’t in it. He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his throat. It was the kind of laugh that was more felt than heard, and it sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. His eyes never left yours, glinting with something unreadable, dangerous, perhaps even playful, but never soft.

"Shame," he murmured, his voice low and deliberately slow, laced with something that made your breath hitch. Then he leaned in, closing the distance between you. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the air between you growing thick with tension. "But I'm sure you'd be delicious regardless," he whispered, his words brushing against your skin like a dark promise, leaving your thoughts spinning and your heart racing despite yourself.

You snapped your head to him, "What?"

"Nothing." He smirks, watching your reaction.

He found your innocence amusing, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Most women would have melted at a line like that, eager to fall into whatever game he was playing. But you, reserved and cautious while holding your composure, only intrigued him more.

With a slow, almost absentminded motion, he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, revealing just a hint of his toned chest. He was not even trying, yet the effect felt deliberate in its own way. His eyes remained fixed on you, his voice low and casual. "So, you can't cook?"

You held your ground, refusing to let the slight flutter in your chest show. "I may be a housewife, but cooking has never been my specialty," you replied, your tone light but calm. Your eyes briefly flicked to the newly exposed skin at his collar before you quickly returned your gaze to his face, pretending not to notice the quiet shift in atmosphere. 

He notices your glance at his collar and smirks, leaving the button undone deliberately. "Well, that's alright. Not every woman needs to excel at cooking to be perfect." He leans back, stretching his arms above his head casually, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a strip of toned stomach. You looked away, your voice quiet as you mumbled, "That's a first coming from you."

He chuckled in response, the sound rich and slightly amused. Lowering his arms, he tilted his head slightly, watching you with interest. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his tone not mocking this time, but genuinely curious. "You think I'm the type to only care about a woman's cooking skills?" he continued, raising an eyebrow as if waiting for you to confirm his suspicion.

You met his gaze, hesitant but honest. "You don’t seem to be an open-minded kind of man. More... traditional," you replied, choosing your words carefully. For a moment, there was silence between you, not awkward, but heavy with unspoken thoughts. He quirks an eyebrow, surprised by your assessment. With a slow smile, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, "Traditional? Well, I suppose I do have certain expectations for a lady."

"Yeah like doing the laundry... mopping floors..." You droned on. He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound. "And what's wrong with that? A woman in her place, taking care of the home and her man..." He trails off, his gaze lingering on you. He continues, his tone serious now, "I expect a woman to be submissive, to respect her husband's authority, to bear his children and raise them properly." He pauses, his eyes searching your face for a reaction.

"Typical." You replied, rolling your eyes. He ignores your dismissive comment, pressing on. "I expect her to be modest, to dress conservatively, to not draw attention to herself." He takes a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving your face. "And I certainly expect her to be a virgin when she marries."

You raised an eyebrow at him and he noticed. "What? Too traditional for you?" He leans back in his chair, spreading his arms out on the backrest, making himself more comfortable. "I believe in old-fashioned values. A woman should be pure and innocent until her wedding night."

"So what does it say about the husband if she's still a virgin, months after the wedding night?" you asked, your voice calm but laced with meaning. You looked at him deliberately, your eyes holding just enough suggestion to make your words sting.

His gaze sharpened. He caught the implication immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly, the line of his jaw tightening as he sat up straighter in the chair. His hands curled around the armrests, the tension in his knuckles betraying the emotion he usually kept buried.

"It suggests that the husband is either impotent or incompetent," he said flatly, each word deliberate and cutting. His voice held no trace of humor now. It was a rare, unguarded moment, one where the weight of his pride met the sting of your truth.

You offered a slow, knowing smile. "Hm. I figured," you replied, a slight smirk playing on your lips. The silence that followed was thick, but you both knew exactly what had been said. No denial. No deflection. He held your gaze, unmoving, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, but the air between you buzzed with the tension of words unspoken and boundaries quietly tested.

He appreciates the way you challenge him, even if it's at his expense. "You're a sharp one, aren't you?" He says, his voice low. "Most women wouldn't dare insinuate such a thing to my face."

"Well, most women already slept with you," You said as you stood up, "I will be taking my leave now." He watches you stand up, his eyes flicking down your body before meeting your gaze again. A smirk plays on his lips as he stands up as well.

"Indeed, they have." He admits unapologetically, walking around the table to stand in front of you. He towers over you, his height and presence dominating. He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, women usually leave with bruises if they speak to men the same way you speak to me." His eyes flick down to your lips briefly before meeting your gaze again.

"Good thing we're married." You gave him a cold look as you raised your head to talk to him. A low chuckle escapes him as he straightens up, giving you some space. "True, married women have certain... privileges." He smirks, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Like the privilege of arguing with their husbands whenever they please." He finds your attitude refreshing – no batting eyelashes, no trying to seduce him like most women do.

"You do realize most women try to sleep with me instead of meaningless arguments?" he said, tilting his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. His tone was confident, almost mocking, as if daring you to be impressed or jealous.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you met his gaze with calm, steady eyes and replied, "They didn’t marry you, did they?" Your voice was cool, measured, and laced with quiet defiance. The smile on his face faltered for just a second, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, something more focused. Then his smirk widens slightly at your bluntness. You have a point, none of those women ever got to wear his ring. He looks down at the wedding band on his own finger, a rare moment of contemplation crossing his face. "No, they didn't." He admits quietly. "You did."

"Right. It was arranged." You said as you turned away from him slightly before he spoke up again. 

"Yes, it was arranged," he said, his voice quieter now, as if admitting something he rarely gave thought to. He paused for a moment, studying your face, then added with a flicker of curiosity, "Does that bother you? The fact that our marriage wasn't born out of love or some grand romance?"

You considered his question, your expression unreadable. After a moment, you turned back around slightly and replied, "Isn't that what marriage is like these days?"

His expression becomes more serious, intense. "In my circle, yes. Arranged marriages, marriages of convenience... they're common. But I've never expected to have a wife who..." He trails off, seeming to catch himself. "Who talks back like you do."

 You scoffed as you turned away again, "Consider me special." A genuine laugh escapes him, something rare for a man of his status and reputation. "Special? You're certainly that." He reaches out, gently catching your chin between his fingers to turn your face back towards him. "Do you know how many women would kill to be where you are right now?"

You looked up at him, seemingly annoyed, "What are you doing?" His thumb brushes against your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle considering his tough exterior. "Just... trying to understand you." He releases your chin abruptly, as if realizing he's crossed some invisible line. "You’re acting like being my wife is a chore. Like you'd rather be anywhere else."

You scoffed again as you brushed his hand away, your touch swift and firm. "You have no idea," you said, taking a deliberate step back to create space between you. He watched you carefully, something shifting behind his eyes. There was a flicker of frustration mixed with intrigue. No woman had ever dared to push him away like that before. They usually leaned in, sought his attention, and tried to impress him. But you pulled back without hesitation, and that unsettled him more than he expected.

His hand curled into a fist at his side, the tension in his posture rising, though he made no move to stop you or close the distance. "So, you'd leave if you could?" he asked, his voice low and tinged with something unreadable.

You met his gaze, your tone steady and calm. "I don't have the option to."

"Right," he said, letting out a soft laugh that carried no amusement. "Trapped. Like a trophy wife." His voice turned sharp, almost accusatory. "No wonder you're so miserable." He kept his eyes on you, unblinking, watching for the slightest shift in your expression. He was waiting for a reaction, looking for something to crack, to confirm that his words had hit their mark.

"Perhaps," you said with a cool shrug. "Or maybe my husband is exactly like you said. Impotent or incompetent." His eyes darkened instantly, narrowing at your words. A muscle in his jaw twitched, the only visible sign of the fury simmering beneath his composed exterior. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. Not his subordinates. Not even his own family.

You had crossed a line, and you both knew it. He took a slow, deliberate step toward you. The air seemed to grow heavier with each inch he closed between you. When he spoke, his voice was low and sharp, like a warning wrapped in silk.

"You have no filter now, do you?" His eyes searched yours, daring you to back down. But you didn’t flinch. You stood still, meeting his glare with calm defiance, refusing to be the one to look away first.

"Do I need one at this point?" You sighed as you looked away, tired from all this arguing. He stops in his tracks, stunned momentarily by your brazen response. A slow, almost incredulous smirk spreads across his face. "Apparently not." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Impotent or incompetent, huh? Those are fighting words coming from a wife."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly amused by your sharp response. No one had ever matched his attitude like you did. He leaned in slightly, testing you further. "So, if I were competent and... potent, would you even notice?"

You met his gaze without flinching. "How would I know? You've never been that way." His eyebrows shoot up at your blunt reply, a burst of laughter escaping him despite himself. "Touché." He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall with a smirk. "Bold words from a woman who's never seen her husband in action."

"I've seen your sword skills plenty of times," you said, your voice steady, as if the meaning behind your words didn’t faze you in the least.

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. The sound was sharp, almost incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe you’d taken it that way. "That's not what I meant," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice, clearly enjoying the twist. His smirk shifted, turning playful, and the mischievous glint in his eyes grew sharper, more daring.

You raised an eyebrow, your gaze never leaving his, intrigued by the boldness in his voice. He pushed off from the wall, stepping closer to you again, the distance between you growing smaller. His voice dropped lower, taking on a teasing edge. " I'm talking about myself in bed, not sword practices.”

He leaned in just enough for you to feel his presence, his words carrying weight as they lingered in the air. His eyes never left yours, studying your reaction with an intensity that suggested he was savoring every moment. He watched, his smirk deepening as he noticed the slight twitch of your eyebrow, the only sign of your response.

It was a challenge, a game, and he was enjoying it. The space between you seemed to hum with anticipation, the tension thickening with every word he spoke.

AN: Tysm if you've read until here, part 3 might be released a little later as I'm getting really busy with personal stuff these days. As always remember to like and follow for part 3! These are posted on my ao3 account as well, user in bio <33

Toji x Reader

Part 1 here Part 2 here

AN: Part 3 has arrived! More drama here smhh they should just make out already 😒😒. Anyways, I hope yall enjoy <33 (wc: ~2.2k)

Part 3

"W-well yeah, I haven’t seen... that..." you stammered, the words stumbling out as your face grew warm. You tried to maintain your composure, but it was impossible not to falter beneath his gaze.

His smirk widened, clearly entertained by your flustered state. There was a flicker of something softer beneath the amusement, as if your embarrassment amused him in more ways than one. "And why not?" he teased, stepping closer with calculated slowness. "Is my own wife ashamed of admitting she hasn’t seen her husband naked?" His voice lowered, deliberately suggestive. 

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you stepped back, refusing to let him completely take control of the moment. "It was you who left me on the bed that wedding night," you shot back, your voice sharp, but the edge of hurt was hard to hide.

He paused, the playful air around him shifting. "Ah right," he said quietly, nodding as his expression turned thoughtful. He remembered that night. How you sat there, dressed in ceremonial silk, your eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and hope back then. "I had my reasons," he said after a moment, more subdued now.

"Yeah? Like what?" you asked, your voice lower, more serious. This time, it wasn’t a taunt. It was a question you had been holding in for months. He pauses, his eyes locked with yours, debating how much to reveal. He decides to throw you off balance, like he usually does in arguments.

"Maybe I wasn't attracted to you." He watches your expression change, seeing the hurt flash in your eyes briefly before you mask it.

You scoffed and looked away, crossing your arms, "Right, cause you've seen multiple naked women already." His eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by your accusation. He quickly recovers, a smirk tugging at his lips as he realizes you've hit rather close to home. "Jealous?" He teased.

"You-!" You bit your lip as you cut yourself off, "I'm heading to bed." You huffed angrily as you turned around. He watches you walk away, his smirk fading as he notices the way you bite your lip - a small, subconscious gesture that reveals more than you probably intend. He finds himself suddenly wanting to push further, to provoke a real reaction out of you instead of just the calm facade. "Sleep alone then."

"I will. Like I always do," you replied, your voice calm but edged with quiet resentment. You met his gaze and held it for a moment, your eyes cold and steady, speaking volumes without the need for raised voices. Then, without another word, you turned and walked away. Your footsteps echoed through the hall as you left him standing there, silent and still, the weight of your words hanging in the air behind you.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, the silence was broken by the faint creak of your door. You sat up quickly, blinking into the darkness, trying to adjust your eyes. Slowly, you made out Toji's silhouette standing in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of moonlight streaming in through the windows. The light revealed his bare chest, his muscular form casting shadows in the dim room.

"Wha... what are you doing?" you murmured, rubbing your eyes in confusion as you sat up fully. His voice comes out low and raspy in the darkness, "What does it look like? I'm tired of sleeping alone in that cold bed." He takes a few steps into the room, his bare feet silent against the floor. "Does my wife mind if her husband shares her bed?" 

"So you finally felt cold and remembered you have a wife months after our marriage?" You sighed softly. He ignores your sarcasm, instead focusing on the fact that you're not outright kicking him out. He climbs into the bed beside you, pulling the blankets over himself. He's careful not to touch you, keeping a respectable distance. "It's cold, alright?" He mutters defensively.

You looked at him lying beside you on the bed, the sensation strangely foreign. He had never done this before, never crossed the line of sharing space with you beyond what was necessary. The warmth of his presence felt unsettling, and you couldn’t quite shake the awkwardness of it.

"I didn’t even say yes," you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You weren't sure if you were speaking to him or just to the situation itself, but the air between you both felt thick with unspoken tension.

Toji glances over at you, his expression unreadable in the dim moonlight. He shrugs nonchalantly, "Didn't say no either." He settles further into the bed, making himself comfortable as if planning to stay. "Besides, it's my bed too."

You sighed loudly, rolling onto your back and shifting slightly away from him. The distance between you felt oddly comforting at first, but it didn’t last long. Toji noticed the subtle movement and, with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, shifted closer. The space between you was gone in an instant.

His voice was a low murmur in the darkness, teasing but laced with something else. "Didn't realise my wife needed so much space from her husband."

You furrowed your brows, not wanting to engage but unable to stop yourself. "A husband who has never slept on the same bed with his wife until now," you replied, your tone a mix of frustration and exhaustion as you tried to close your eyes and fall back asleep.

His breath catches slightly at your words, realizing how true they are. Instead of responding immediately, he shifts onto his side to face you, propping his head up on one elbow. “Maybe I just decided tonight that I wanted to." His voice drops lower, "Though I notice you're not exactly complaining."

"Ran out of women to sleep with?" you muttered, eyes still closed, your tone sharp and laced with irritation. "You've probably slept with every female within a 200-meter radius."

His eyes flash dangerously in the darkness, but his expression remains neutral. He ignores your jab, instead pulling the blanket closer around himself so that it wraps around both of you, eliminating any more space between you. “You jealous?" He taunts again.

"Disgusted." I corrected him as I pulled back my blanket. Toji's jaw tightens slightly, but he keeps his voice calm and even. "Disgusted by what? The fact that I have experience, or the fact that I'm not sleeping with anyone else right now?" He shifts again, this time rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. 

You ignored his words as you tried to fall back asleep. He lies there for a long moment, his mind racing. He's used to women throwing themselves at him, not pushing him away. And yet, here he is, lying in bed with his wife, who clearly wants nothing to do with him. It's frustrating. Infuriating. And for some reason, it only makes him want to provoke a reaction out of her more. "You know, most wives would be thrilled to have me in their bed."

"Maybe it's because they invited you into their beds, instead of you barging into their room in the middle of the night," you said, your voice low and cold, slicing through the stillness of the dark room.

Moonlight spilled faintly across the floor, casting silver outlines on the furniture. Toji’s eyes crinkled in the dim light as he fought back a smirk. Even in the quiet of the night, you managed to catch him off guard. He turned his head slowly toward you, his expression unreadable, voice dripping with mock offense. "Barging? I live here too, you know."

You met his gaze through the shadows, unbothered. "Clearly, your first time in this particular room." He chuckled and reached out, plucking your blanket out from under you, pulling it over to his side of the bed. "Maybe I just wanted to get to know my wife better." He says, his tone light, but his gaze intense in the darkness.

"In the middle of the night on a random Tuesday?" you added, your tone laced with disbelief as you stared at him through the dim shadows. The silence that followed was thick, only broken by the faint rustle of sheets and the distant hum of night beyond the window.

He smirks slightly, shifting onto his side again to face you, their faces inches apart. "You're awful. Do you know that? Most women would kill for a charming midnight visit from me." He deliberately closes the gap, his breath ghosting against your ear.

"Well, I'm not most women," you said coolly, your voice steady and calm in the quiet darkness. The words hung in the air between you, firm and unapologetic, daring him to challenge you.

His grin widens, his eyes glinting with amusement and something darker. He loves her sharp tongue, loves the way she stands up to him. Most people cower in his presence, but not her. She meets him head-on, and it's intoxicating. 

"I'm aware," he said, a hint of amusement flickering in his voice as he lingered near you for just a moment longer before leaning back against the pillow, your blanket now draped over him without apology. "For someone who's so 'disgusted' by me, you sure have a lot to say at midnight… while lying in the same bed," he added, his tone teasing, eyes half-lidded with smug satisfaction.

"You forced yourself onto the bed," you shot back, your voice sharp but quiet, laced with irritation as you tugged at the blanket in vain.

"Semantics." He waves a dismissive hand, his eyes crinkling at the corners again. He's enjoying this back and forth more than he should. "You could have gotten up and slept somewhere else." He challenges, his tone daring her to argue more.

"You're right." You replied as you sat up on the bed, doing a big stretch first. His eyes widen slightly in surprise as you suddenly sit up. He didn't expect you to take him up on his challenge. He watches as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, a strange mix of disappointment and amusement swirling in his chest. "Where are you going?"

"To the somewhere else like you said," you muttered, grabbing your pillow with a huff. You sat up, the mattress shifting slightly beneath you, and threw him one last glare before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The cool air of the room bit at your skin, but your pride burned warmer than any blanket he had stolen.

He sits up as well, reaching out to grab your arm before you can get out of bed. His grip is firm, but not painful. "I was joking." He says, his voice a little softer now. "Stay in bed. It's big enough for the both of us." You glanced at him before giving in and lying back onto the bed. 

He releases your arm as you settle back into the bed, a small smirk playing on his lips. He pulls the blanket back up to his waist, leaving your side of the bed cold and empty. He's testing you, seeing if you'll scoot closer for warmth or stay on your side.

Your hand then searched for the blanket in the dark before yanking it away from him and wrapping it around yourself. He laughs softly, his head turning towards the sound of you pulling the blanket away from him. He doesn't even try to fight for it, instead letting you wrap yourself up in the warmth. He turns onto his side, facing away from you, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. 

You then closed your eyes, trying to go back to sleep. He remains on his side for a few moments, his laughter slowly dying down. He listens to the sound of you trying to fall back asleep, your breathing slow and steady. After a while, he sighs softly and turns back over, facing you once again.

Your back was turned, facing him. "You know," he says softly into the darkness, his voice barely above a whisper. "People would at least have the decency to sleep facing the other person when they're sharing a bed. But you... you just turn your back on me." There's a slight teasing note in his voice.

He smirks slightly at your lack of reply. He thinks you might be sleeping already. He throws one arm above his head, making himself more comfortable. He then freezes slightly as he realizes something. He looks down at your side of the bed, his smirk widening slowly. "Damn."

He bites back a laugh, realizing that you're sleeping and didn't hear his little comment. He watches your back for a few moments, noticing the way the blanket clings to your form, highlighting your curves. He shakes his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts. He lies there for a few more moments, his thoughts wandering. He eventually gives in and scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

AN: OOOH he's getting closer and even sniffing you?? BOYYYY. 🫣🫣Tysm if you've read until here, part 4 he gets even touchier ehehehe. Like and follow for part 4! As always these are posted on ao3 (@variadims) if that's your preferred reading place <33

Toji x Reader

Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here Part 4 here Part 5 here Part 6 here

AN: Okay, I know I said Part 7 would come out next week cause this part ended up being super long. I was going to split it in half at first, but then I figured yall deserve it after you’ve all waited so long. Hence, lo and behold! The long awaited part 7! Enjoy!! 😉😉 (wc: ~4.8k)

Part 7

“Like what?” you ask, tilting your head as you look up at him, your voice laced with innocent curiosity. You don’t pull away when he draws you closer—if anything, you lean into him, eyes wide and searching. His breath hitches. You don’t even realize what you’re doing to him. The question is genuine. You’re not teasing, not playing coy. You really don’t know. And that realization hits him like a brick to the chest.

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. You were untouched, untested, unknowing in the kind of way that made his heart thud with both protectiveness and dangerous hunger. He exhales slowly, gaze dropping to your lips for a second too long before finding your eyes again.

“A… blowjob?” he says carefully, the word thick on his tongue, like he’s weighing it before releasing it into the space between you. “It’s when a girl uses her mouth on a guy’s…” He trails off, searching your expression, looking for hesitation or discomfort but you just keep looking at him, like you’re waiting to understand, like you trust him to explain.

He swears under his breath, jaw tightening. He’s trying to be gentle. Careful. But his thoughts are spiraling. Your curiosity, your willingness, your trust—it’s unraveling him inch by inch. His hand tightens slightly at your waist. “It’s... a way to give someone pleasure,” he says eventually, softer now. His voice drops as his thumb strokes slow circles into your hip. “It feels good.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression a mix of curiosity and confusion. He hesitated, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t embarrass either of you, then gestured vaguely between his legs. “His… private parts,” he said, his voice low and careful, as if the simple explanation might bridge the gap between your innocence and the complexity of what he was trying to teach you. But seeing your blank stare, he realized he had to be more explicit. “His penis, okay? You put it in your mouth and move your mouth up and down and suck.” 

You blinked at him, processing the strange new information. “What? Why?” you asked, your voice filled with genuine confusion. “Doesn’t it go somewhere else?” 

The question was innocent but pointed, revealing just how unfamiliar you were with these things he took for granted. His reaction caught you off guard as he suddenly burst out laughing. You stared, arms crossed, a little annoyed but mostly fascinated by the contrast between your seriousness and his sudden amusement. When he finally caught his breath, his grin softened into something warmer and more affectionate. “Yes, it does.” he said, still chuckling lightly. “Usually, during sex it does go… somewhere else.” 

You tilted your head slightly, not ready to let him off the hook just yet. Your eyes searched his face, silently asking for more clarity. He seemed to sense that, and his amusement faded into a more serious, tender look. “But some guys like it when girls use their mouths instead,” he explained, voice dropping a notch as if sharing a secret meant just for you. “It’s a different kind of pleasure.” 

You frowned, still trying to grasp the concept. “Why?” you pressed, the simple question seemed to make the air between you shift. He shrugged, but there was a weight behind his gesture as his gaze held yours, steady and sincere. “Because it feels good. Really good. The mouth, the throat, it’s sensitive, warm… and can be intense.” His words hung in the air, thick with meaning that went beyond just the physical.

There was a pause before he added, almost teasingly, “And some guys like the visual. Of seeing their dick in a girl’s mouth.” The thought was enough to make your nose wrinkle in mild disgust, an instinctive reaction that made him laugh softly again. “You look disgusted,” he said with a smirk.

“How would that even work?” you asked, brows pinched together like trying to piece it together like a puzzle that didn’t quite make sense.

“It works by sucking and moving your mouth up and down,” he repeated patiently, his voice soft like he was watching something precious unfold. “And sometimes, guys like it when girls use their tongues to swirl around the tip.” His eyes lingered on you, watching every flicker of confusion, every subtle shift on your face. He was studying you, not just to gauge your reaction, but to savor the way your innocence painted your features with such honest curiosity. “You really don’t know anything about this, do you?” he asked.

“No,” you admitted, your voice small as you gulped. “This is very new to me.” You paused, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t see the thrill about that.”

He chuckled at that, the sound low and genuine. There was something deeply endearing about your honesty—how you didn’t try to pretend, how you weren’t embarrassed to ask questions most people would never say aloud. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable, a mixture of affection and something deeper, darker. “Would you wanna try it?” he asked, his voice casual, but not careless. He didn’t push. He just wanted to know. Maybe he wanted to see how far your curiosity would go. Or maybe.. he just wanted to be the first to show you.

You hesitated. You weren’t scared exactly, just unsure. Your gaze dropped, thoughtful, then flicked back up to his. “I don’t know,” you said softly, biting your lip. “I’m not sure how much my mouth can fit.”

"Your mouth can fit more than you think," he says softly, his voice dropping lower. He imagines your small mouth wrapped around his length and feels himself harden slightly. "But most girls can't deepthroat, so they just suck on the tip or the first few inches."

“Pretty sure it’s because it’s not supposed to be there,” you muttered, wrinkling your nose slightly. There was something in the way you said it—so blunt, so utterly unaware of how your honesty hit him like a punch to the gut and a tug to something far more primal. “It’s not supposed to be there no,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned back slightly, watching you like he couldn’t decide whether to be entertained or completely taken by you. “But some guys like their dicks to be in a girl’s mouth or even her hand.”

Your brow furrowed again, head tilting slightly. “Hand?”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the unfolding of your curiosity. “A handjob,” he explained casually, raising one hand and curling it into a loose fist. “It’s when a girl uses her hand to jerk a guy off. Usually up and down.” He demonstrated slowly, mimicking the motion without shame, “Some guys get their girls to do that when they’re too young or not ready to have sex yet. It’s kind of easier.”

You watched the movement, then looked back up at him, your face a picture of quiet contemplation and unspoken questions. He could tell you were trying to understand. “Does it feel good?” you ask quietly, glancing up at him.

“Really good,” he admits without hesitation, his gaze fixed on the way your hair spills down your back. The question itself makes him realize just how little you understand about what pleases a man. “Like this,” he shows you again, pumping his fist slowly along his length, voice lower now. “Some men even prefer this over sex, it’s quicker and it doesn’t take much to get them off.”

Your lips part, hesitating before you whisper, “Can… can I try? I’ve never even seen one before.”

His breath stutters. He hadn’t expected that from you, not with how careful you usually are. “You want to give me a handjob?” he asks, eyes narrowing slightly as if to make sure you’re serious. But your expression is nothing but pure curiosity, untouched by shame. The sight makes him throb against the confines of his pants.

“I’d rather that than… in my mouth,” you admit softly, cheeks heating.

He lets out a quiet laugh, amused by your honesty and charmed by your innocence. “Most girls prefer to suck dick,” he murmurs, still watching you, “but if you’re not comfortable with that, a handjob’s fine.” He leans back, settling into the moment, giving you room. “Go on, try it.”

Your fingers fidget nervously as you look at the outline of it pressing against his pants. “Wha… are you going to… do I have to, uh…” The words stumble out of you, tangled with nerves and curiosity, as your gaze lingers there.

"Unbutton my pants," he says patiently, enjoying your innocence too much to rush you. "Pull out my dick. Don't be scared of it." He watches you fidget with the button on his jeans, amused by how inexperienced you are. 

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the button of his jeans, fumbling clumsily. He watches, amused, his cock twitching in anticipation at the sight of your small hands struggling with something so simple.

When you can’t get it undone, he chuckles under his breath. “Here, let me.” His larger hands brush yours aside with ease, popping the button and dragging the zipper down in one smooth motion.

You swallow hard as he lowers the fabric, and then gasp softly when his length springs free. Heavy, thick—at least nine inches, flushed and straining, the swollen head already slick. Compared to your hands, it looks impossibly big.

“It’s just a dick,” he reassures, voice taut from restraint, watching your wide-eyed stare.

You lean in slightly, studying it with almost scientific curiosity. The way it throbs faintly, the way the veins wind along its shaft, the subtle shifts of color between flushed pinks and deeper reds—it all fascinates you.

He smirks at your innocent scrutiny, arousal simmering hotter as you look at him like he’s some strange, forbidden specimen. “You can touch it if you want,” he says softly, spreading his thighs wider to give you space. “It won’t bite.”

You slide a finger along him, poking lightly as he throbs hard under your touch. A low, strained groan escapes him, his length twitching sharply at the sensation. A bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip, dripping slowly down, and you can’t help but lean closer, fascinated by every detail. “Why is it white?” you ask softly, tracing the bead as it slides.

He chuckles, the sound rough and warm, his eyes darkening as he watches your curiosity. “That’s called pre-cum,” he explains, voice low. “It comes out when a man’s really turned on… it helps with lubrication.” You watch him closely, fingers hovering, exploring the unfamiliar hardness with innocent fascination.

“It’s… so big,” you murmur, eyes traveling down to the weight in his hands. “I didn’t know what to expect.” Your fingers drift lower, brushing the soft, warm swell beneath him. “What’s this?”

He laughs again, tension running through his body as your fingers poke at him, teasing, gentle, but bold in your curiosity. “Those are my balls,” he says, his voice husky. “They… produce sperm.”

You trace lightly from the round, heavy orbs up along the length of him, marveling at the connection between them, the way his cock twitches at every touch. “They’re connected,” you murmur, the tip of your finger brushing against him as he shifts slightly, every movement sending a shiver through him.

His hands move to your shoulders, steadying you, eyes locked on yours. “You have no idea how good it feels… just like this,” he growls, voice low and ragged, as his hips press subtly toward your fingers, urging you on.

He swallows hard as your finger traces up his length, following the connection between his balls and his shaft. He’s never seen anyone explore him with such naive curiosity before, and it makes him both tense and strangely tender.

“Yes,” he murmurs softly, voice low. “The testicles are connected to the shaft by the spermatic cord.”

He watches you with fascination, noting the way you handle him like a new, mysterious object—careful, curious, and entirely devoid of sexual intent. Your fingers slide along his veins, lightly tracing the ridges, then wrap gently around the swollen head, exploring without hesitation.

He keeps his eyes on your expression, waiting for the questions he knows are coming.

“Does it… hurt when it’s like this?” you ask quietly, your finger following the intricate network of veins along him.

A sharp shiver runs through him at your touch, his hips pressing subtly toward your hand. “No… it doesn’t hurt,” he says, voice strained but patient, though the tremor in his groan betrays how sensitive he is to your innocent exploration.

He inhales sharply as your finger traces the thick veins on his engorged length. He's never been examined so thoroughly before, let alone by someone so innocent. “It's just very sensitive. When a man gets aroused, blood flows into the penis, making it hard and big. It's just biology." He taps your nose playfully.

“So… it can change shape?” you ask, tilting your head as you lean closer, curiosity written across your face. “It has… a kind of smell too?” You bring it near your nose, inhaling lightly.

He groans, low and ragged, at the sight of your nose twitching over him. The action is so utterly innocent and so fucking cute that he feels like he could lose himself. “Yeah,” he says softly, voice strained, “it changes shape when a man’s turned on.” His eyes darken as he watches you take in the faint, musky scent. “The smell… that’s kinda like my… pheromones.”

You glance up at him with wide eyes, curiosity mingling with a tentative boldness. “It probably… tastes good too, doesn’t it?” you murmur, leaning down further, your back arching as you hover closer. Your gaze lifts to meet his, heart hammering. “Can I?”

His breath catches in his throat as he sees you looking up at him, eyes wide with innocent curiosity, your back arching slightly. His cock throbs visibly at your quiet question.

“You… want to taste it?” he asks softly, voice rasping, both aroused and amused by your naive exploration.

“Just curious,” you murmur, tucking your hair behind your ear, cheeks flushing slightly.

He nods slowly, intrigued by where your innocence will lead. “Go ahead, then… just be careful,” he says gently, his tone laced with both arousal and quiet amusement.

Leaning closer, you catch the musky scent of him before tentatively extending your little pink tongue to lick the bead of pre-cum at the tip. Your hand rests lightly on his inner thigh for support.

A sharp, ragged breath escapes him as your tongue makes contact with his sensitive tip. The electric sensation shoots straight through him, making his cock pulse harder against your touch. He can’t tear his eyes away, captivated by your wide-eyed curiosity, the way you explore him so innocently yet so intimately. He watches you intently, your innocent curiosity making this experience incredibly erotic for him.

You smack your lips a few times before nodding slowly. “Tastes… weird…”

He chuckles softly, finding your reaction utterly endearing. His hand moves to thread gently through your hair. “Weird how? Sweet? Bitter?” His hips twitch slightly, betraying his growing arousal as your small hand rests on his inner thigh, dangerously close to his balls. “You can lick more if you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, then give the tip another tentative lick.

A low, ragged groan escapes him, vibrating through his body as your tongue brushes his sensitive tip again. Jolts of pleasure ripple through him, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair as he watches your careful, curious movements. “You’re really curious about this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, voice rough with need.

“I’ve never been with a man before… or even seen one of these,” you confess, wrapping your hand lightly around his base. “I didn’t know it would be like this.” You drag your tongue slowly from the base to the tip, exploring every inch with innocent fascination.

A shiver runs through him at the inexperienced yet achingly sensual touch, your warmth and curiosity teasing him mercilessly. He throws his head back with a groan, pulse racing, unable to resist the effect your exploration has on him.

“Sorry… did that hurt?” you ask softly, looking up at him as he groans, concern mingling with your curiosity.

"No," he chuckles softly, finding your innocent worry cute. "It felt... good." His hips twitch slightly from your touch, watching you wrap your small hand around his base again. He realizes that you're genuinely innocent, having never seen or touched a man like this before.

Curiosity takes over, and you wrap both hands around him, experimenting with a slow, tentative stroke.

His eyes widen at the sensation, watching as your hands move over his thick, throbbing length. Every careful motion, every innocent squeeze sends waves of pleasure shooting through him. He swallows hard, caught between disbelief and desire. “F-fuck,” he groans, his voice strained and ragged, hips twitching involuntarily under your touch.

You glance up at him, wide-eyed. “Should I… continue?” you ask softly, still exploring him with a mix of curiosity and awe.

He locks eyes with you, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he stares down at your innocent yet surprisingly arousing hands stroking his cock. A bead of sweat forms on his forehead from the effort of holding back his pleasure. "If... if you keep doing that, I might... cum,"

“Will… that be bad?” you ask, loosening your grip slightly, eyes wide and innocent.

“No… it’ll feel good,” he breathes, biting his lip to hold back the overwhelming urge building inside him. The sight of you hesitating—stopping because you don’t fully understand—only makes him harder, more desperate. “If you keep gripping like that… if you keep pumping… I’ll… I’ll shoot my…”

You tilt your head up, looking at him with your big, innocent eyes, completely unaware of how potent his words are.

He swallows hard, voice thick with arousal. “I’ll shoot my cum out. It’s… like a release.” His gaze lingers on you, captivated by your curiosity and unknowing wonder. “Do… would you like to see it?”

You nod softly, heart racing, curiosity overcoming hesitation.

He gives you a slightly strained smirk, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his orgasm. "Alright then, watch closely." Slowly, he guides your hands back into position, wrapping them firmly around his throbbing shaft. He begins to gently thrust into your grip, teaching you a rhythm.

You follow his rhythm, letting your hands move up and down along his length, matching the subtle thrusts of his hips. Every stroke sends shivers through him, your curious hands somehow amplifying the pleasure beyond anything he expected.

He groans low and ragged, eyes half-lidded, watching you with a mix of awe and desire. The sight of you so innocently yet eagerly exploring him, so focused and unselfconscious, drives him closer to the edge.

"Just like that, yes," he murmurs, voice strained, hips bucking slightly against your hands. "Don’t stop, keep going."

His eyes roll back slightly as you catch on quickly, pumping your small hands up and down his length. He realizes that this innocent girl is giving him one of the best handjobs he's ever had, and without meaning to. He throws his head back, his hips snapping forward slightly. "Shit,"

His breath hitches sharply, each inhale trembling as the pleasure building inside him intensifies. You look up at him, eyes wide and unguarded, and the sight of your small, curious hands wrapped around him, your lips parted slightly in focus, pushes him even closer to the edge. "I’m going to cum," he warns, voice low and strained, trembling with the force of his rising orgasm.

"Wha… what should I do?" you ask, panic flickering in your eyes as your hands hesitate, unsure whether to stop or continue.

He swallows hard, his body tense with need, and realizes that you truly do not understand what is about to happen. His hips jerk slightly, his cock throbbing heavily in your hands. "No, it’s alright, just keep doing what you’re doing," he says, voice husky and rough. "It’ll feel really good for me, that’s all."

Your hands resume their rhythm, moving over him with careful, gentle pressure that somehow sends shockwaves of pleasure through him. The warmth of your touch, the delicate way you stroke and squeeze, makes every nerve in his body ignite. Beads of pre-cum glisten on his tip, and the scent of him, musky and intoxicating, fills your senses.

He throws his head back with a low, ragged groan, hips pressing subtly against your hands, every stroke from you driving him closer to the edge. The tension in his body is almost unbearable, each pulse of his cock vibrating against your fingers, and he can feel his climax building impossibly fast.

His hips buck slightly as you wrap your small hands back around his shaft and continue pumping. He watches your innocent face, realization dawning that you have no idea just how close your curious hands are bringing him to release. The sensations building in him are almost too much, and he throws his head back slightly.

You look at him, eyes wide and bright, clearly fascinated by watching him. Feeling your gaze fixed on him, Toji’s breathing grows even more ragged. His balls tighten, the muscles coiling in anticipation as his body prepares to release.

He glances down at you again, noticing the innocent enjoyment on your face as you continue to explore him. The combination of your naive curiosity and your touch overwhelms him completely. “Fuck…” he groans, voice thick with need and desperation, hips pressing harder against your hands.

You look back down as you feel his subtle twitches under your hands.

"Don't stop," he groans, his body tensing, muscles flexing as he nears the edge. You feel his cock swelling slightly in your hands, pulsing with each heartbeat. The warm, sticky pre-cum coats your fingers, and you instinctively pump a little faster, curious and focused.

"It's coming… almost…" he gasps, voice strained and ragged, hips pressing subtly against your hands as every stroke sends shivers of pleasure through him.

As you pick up the pace, the room fills with the sound of your movements and Toji's growing excitement. His breath hitches, and a guttural moan escapes his lips, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. You can feel his cock throbbing violently in your grasp, pulsing with each beat of his heart. "C-cumming!" he warns, his voice strained and desperate with intense pleasure.

The words barely leave his mouth when you feel it — the first explosive burst of his release. It shoots out with incredible force, splattering all over your face in thick, creamy ropes. Your innocent expression is now a mess of his desire, the white semen contrasting sharply against your skin. Toji's grip on your wrist tightens, holding your hands firmly in place as he continues to shoot stream after stream, each one painting a new path across your face.

You gasp, feeling the heat and the weight of his release. The first jet is the most powerful, but the subsequent ones are no less intense, coating your face slightly. You can taste the saltiness on your lips and the scent of him filling your nostrils.

As Toji's orgasm continues, he finds himself in a state of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. His body is a vessel of pleasure, and he can't stop the relentless firing of thick, creamy ropes of his seed. They land on your cheek, your neck, and even get tangled in your hair, marking you with his essence. 

He looks down at you, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and intense arousal, as he takes in the sight of your innocent face partially covered in his release. The vision of you, marked by his pleasure, only serves to intensify his orgasm, sending another powerful wave of semen shooting out of him.

He keeps pumping out his release, marking you with his scent and his seed. The sheer volume of it surprises him, coating your innocent face and neck thoroughly, leaving no inch untouched. His body shakes with the force of his orgasm, and he struggles to catch his breath, his mind reeling from the intensity of it all. Each pulse sends a new rope of semen onto your skin, and he can feel the pleasure building again, threatening to overwhelm him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Toji's release begins to ebb. His body is still shaking, and he's breathing heavily as he looks down at his handiwork, a mix of awe and satisfaction on his face. He can't believe the amount of semen he's released, and the sight of you, covered in his essence, sends a final, powerful shudder through his body. His hips jerk involuntarily, squeezing out the last few drops of his climax.

You gasp out as you look down at your stained hands, trying to wipe some of the semen away on your face. The warmth of it, the stickiness, and the sheer amount of it leave you in a state of shocked disbelief. You can feel it on your skin, in your hair, and the scent of him is overwhelming. 

As you wipe some of the thick fluid off your face, more gets smeared around, sticking to your skin and hair. Toji watches you, mesmerized by the innocent way you're trying to clean yourself, making even more of a mess of his release on your face.

"Why is there so much?" you said, your voice laced with shock as you looked up at him. Your stained face and big, innocent eyes meet his gaze, searching for an answer.

Toji's chest heaves as he looks down at you, completely captivated by the sight of your innocent face now a canvas of his desire. The contrast of your wide, innocent eyes staring up at him, framed by the mess of his release, is surprisingly intoxicating. The sight of you covered in his cum surprisingly turns him on again, his body responding with a renewed throb in his cock.

"There's always a lot when I cum this hard," he explains, his voice low and husky, still recovering from the intensity of his orgasm.

"Do all men do this?" you asked, sitting back up, trying to process the amount of semen that now coats your skin and hair.

He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on your face, taking in the sticky mess he's made of you. He can't believe how adorable you look covered in his release, and the thought sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through his veins. The sight of you, marked by his pleasure, is too much to resist, and he feels his body responding, his dick throbbing with a renewed hunger.

"Yeah, most men do. Especially when they're really turned on," Toji confirms, his voice steady despite the turmoil of desire raging within him.

You then licked the corner of your mouth, where some of his cum was smeared, and muttered, "Ack, salty..."

Toji watches in amazement as your small tongue darts out to taste his cum. The sight sends an involuntary shudder through his body, and his already stirring cock twitches with renewed interest. He swallows hard, his voice husky and thick with desire, "That's because it's semen." His eyes are locked on your lips, mesmerized by the way you're exploring the taste of him, and the sight alone is enough to ignite a fresh wave of arousal within him.

"I'm gonna go clean up," you said, moving to the edge of the bed to head to the bathroom.

Toji watches you rise, his eyes glued to the cum stains on your face and hands. A sudden surge of possessiveness washes over him, and he doesn't want you to wash his mark off so quickly. "Wait," he commands, reaching out to gently grab your wrist, halting your movement.

You turned back to look at him, curiosity and confusion etched on your face.

He looks at you with a strange, intense expression, his fingers wrapping around your small wrist. With a gentle pull, he brings you back towards him. His other hand reaches up to your cheek, wiping some of his dried release, only to smear it further instead of removing it. "What are you doing?" you replied, your voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Toji shakes his head, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. He brings his other hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair and guiding you closer to him. His breath fans over your face as he speaks lowly, his voice deep and commanding, "I want you to leave it on for a bit."

"What? Why-"

He cuts you off by pressing his thumb against your lips, silencing you. His thumb smears more of his cum across your mouth as he speaks, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Because I like seeing my mark on you. It turns me on."

AN: Okay take a deep breath in.... and outttt. PHEEEWWW well that was intense even for me. I fear it only gets spicier from here onwards. Also if you've read my other fic, dw I actually have plot for this story LOL. You guys don't have to worry about me abandoning this fic for another for now, this fic is gonna continue for much longer and you can count on me for that 💪💪 Part 8 is still in the works but dw this isn't gonna take like a month or two this time 😜😜