#toji angst

hey, babe. i’m going to bed early. i left dinner out for you. make sure you eat, okay? <3

you wait for a reply, but none ever comes. no read receipt, nothing. you feel your hormones creeping up on you again, that familiar ache settling in your chest before you force it down with a quiet prayer, letting your eyes flutter shut as you cling to the pillow that still smells faintly of him.

toji, meanwhile, is just pulling into the driveway, the clock on his dashboard reading 12:13 am. he exhales sharply, running a hand through his dark hair before stepping out of the car. guilt is etched into every corner of his mind, weighing down his broad shoulders as he unlocks the door to your shared home.

he’d broken another promise— again.

“idiot,” he mutters to himself under his breath, slipping inside the house as quietly as possible. his feet lead him toward the kitchen, where his gaze softens at the sight of the dinner you’d left him; steaming food paired with his favorite drink, and scrawled in sauce on the side of the plate? ‘i love you.’

he curses quietly under his breath but eats every bite, savoring each mouthful before heading upstairs. the ache in his chest grows heavier with every step closer to the bedroom, and when he opens the door, the sight of you curled up peacefully makes his stomach twist.

the room is dimly lit, but even in the faint light, he can see your baby bump peeking through your loose shirt, his pillow tucked securely under your head.

he looks at you like he always does— with reverence, affection, and guilt.

toji moves quietly to change, his work clothes swapped for a pair of pajama bottoms, his strong chest left bare. once ready, he slides into bed carefully, sinking into the mattress beside you.

“hey, princess,” he whispers, his large hand reaching out to gently rest on the swell of your belly. “and hey, little one,” he adds softly, his lips brushing a kiss to your covered bump.

your body stirs slightly at his movements, but you don’t wake right away, so toji lets himself linger, his face pressed against your belly as he speaks in a voice too soft for you to comprehend fully.

“i fucked up today,” he murmurs quietly to your bump, his calloused fingers tracing gentle circles along your waist. “i promised i’d be here for mommy, but i couldn’t even do that. i’m scared. i’m scared i won’t be a good husband, or a good dad. i’m trying- but sometimes it feels like it’s not enough.”

his voice cracks slightly, his brows furrowing as he presses a kiss into the fabric of your shirt.

when you finally stir fully, your soft fingers thread through his messy hair, and he flinches slightly, lifting his head to see you looking at him with nothing but love.

“she forgives you, toji,” you whisper, all drowsy and warm. “i forgive you.”

his lips twitch, and he lets out a shaky breath, pressing closer to kiss your forehead before trailing his lips down to your belly again.

“did you eat?” you ask.

he nods. “yeah. it was… perfect. you’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“you’re gonna be a good daddy, y’know,” you say softly.

he lets the words sink in, squeezing your waist gently as you both hold each other close.

“i love you,” he whispers against your neck, his voice barely audible.

“and i love you more,” you reply, smiling into the dim light of the room as you both drift into sleep, tangled and at peace.

"… yes, well. i'll talk to him, thank you for letting me know. have a good day." your mind was elsewhere as you took your tight-lipped son out of the classroom, and the silence stretched all throughout the car ride home moreover. you snuck a couple glances into the backseat and he still held that far away look in his eyes as he stared out the rainy window.

when you entered the dimly light apartment you two shared, you set his backpack and things on the breakfast nook. megumi could tell you were gearing up to say something, so he stops in the hallway after he's pulled off his ratty red tennis shoes. you wondered when exactly he'd learned that silence; swallowing his thoughts instead of sharing them with all the graceless honesty children his age were supposed to have.

"megs honey, c'mere."

"i'm okay, mom."

you give him a softly stern look and his mouth presses into a thin line. for a second, you see the argument forming behind his eyes, but he seems to think better of it. begrudgingly, megumi pads his way back toward the kitchen and climbs onto one of the stools at the breakfast nook.

you stand in front of him.

up close, the bruise looks worse and your stomach twists.

"who hit you?"

"it doesn't matter."

"megumi."

"he got hit too."

you blink. goodness, those public school teachers really don't pay attention. "thank you for letting me know, but that's not what i asked."

his gaze drops toward the counter. the refrigerator hums behind you, rain tapping unevenly against the balcony doors. you take a slow breath through your nose before speaking again.

"your teacher said there was a fight. she didn't see what started it." you pause, studying his face. "so i'm asking you, because i'd like to know what my kid has to say first."

something in your voice makes him look up and you soften immediately. god, he was so little. sometimes you forgot.

megumi had always carried himself with an odd seriousness that made people speak to him older than he was, so much so even you were guilty of it sometimes. he'd been tying his own shoes before the other kids in his class, packing away his own belongings without being asked, checking that the front door was locked whenever you came home late from work. he never even begged for toys or new gadgets, and that should've worried you sooner.

you reach out carefully, brushing your thumb underneath the uninjured side of his face.

a cute little pout formed on his mouth. "he was being annoying, okay?"

"you punched someone because they were annoying? that doesn't sound like you."

"makoto said something stupid about you." his jaw clenches. you knew the kid's mother, a rather standoffish lady you grew up with. born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

you know that face. it's the one with a stubborn furrow between his brows, the one he gets whenever he doesn't understand why the world refuses to operate according to the rigid sense of justice that reminds you far too much of someone you once knew. your son was never the violent type, but there were a couple things that he felt deeply passionate about.

you weren't oblivious, you knew there probably were questions from classmates. why doesn't your dad ever come to school events? where did he go? is your dad dead?

children were curious, but they were also capable of being cruel without knowing the difference.

"what did he say about me?"

megumi's eyes flick toward yours before dropping again.

"he said you must be bad."

your brows knit together in confusion. "bad?"

"he said it's your fault dad left us."

the words settle heavily in the apartment. you don't find words to respond quickly enough, so he continues.

"and he said his mom said women like you can't keep men."

you had gotten good at ignoring adults. from distant relatives with loud opinions that talked behind your back, to "well-meaning" acquaintances who had looked at you like your life was an unfortunate cautionary tale instead of something you'd fought tooth and nail to build. it was unfortunate children were malleable clay that parroted what they heard.

"so i punched him, 'cus that's not true."

your gaze snaps back to your son. megumi looks almost defiant now, chin tipped slightly upward. oh, your poor baby boy.

"he shouldn't have said it."

"i agree, he shouldn't have."

his expression changes slightly, surprised by your quick support. he was sure you were getting ready to scold him. "but you still can't punch people, my love."

"why?"

"because that's not how i taught you to solve your problems."

megumi slides off the stool suddenly, frustration working across his features. "he wouldn't stop, mom!"

"then you should've told your teacher."

"she wouldn't do anything!"

"you don't know that."

"yes, i do!"

the certainty in his voice catches you off guard.

"they always say stuff, and nobody cares!"

his face crumples for half a second before he forces it away. the anger dissipates, and you can see the tears forming in his eyes. your chest tightens painfully.

"hey… hey."

you crouch down in front of him. megumi immediately looks elsewhere. you knew he hated to cry in front of you nowadays.

"look at me."

you wait until eventually, reluctantly, those watery dark eyes meet yours.

"you don't have to defend me."

"i do, you're my mom."

you shake your head. "no, baby. you don't."

he hates when you call him that now. usually you'd get an immediate grimace, some irritated insistence that he wasn't a baby anymore. this time however, he says nothing.

"like you said, i'm your mom." your hands settle gently on his shoulders. "i'm supposed to protect you, you're not supposed to spend your day worrying about protecting me." you can tell he's listening. his lower lip is still trembling despite how hard he's trying to keep it still.

"you know what matters more than what they say? what you know." your hands move to cup his tiny face. "i know who i am, and i know who you are. nobody gets to decide either of those things for us."

you pull him into your chest without a warning and megumi stiffens instinctively, embarrassed by affection even in the privacy of your apartment but you don't let go. after a few seconds, the tension leaves his shoulders and his forehead presses into the crook of your neck.

"the next time this happens, you tell me," you murmur against his hair. "if your teacher isn't listening, then i'll make her listen."

"you'll embarrass me."

you smile despite yourself. "yeah, i probably will."

"mooom!" even though he sounded irritated, a muffled laugh escapes against your shoulder. there he was. your fingers comb gently through the spiky, shaded mess of his hair. you stand up, walking towards your noisy fridge and grab a frozen bag of peas from the freezer.

"now sit back down and put this on your bruise before your eye swells shut. can't have my kid looking like rocky." he climbs onto the stool again, obliging without protest. though, a question mark appears on his face.

"who's rocky?"

you groan. "honey, you're making me feel old."

the rest of the evening passes quietly. you make dinner and megumi finishes most of it while complaining that the vegetables taste weird despite them being the exact same vegetables he'd eaten two nights ago without complaint. you let him have the argument this time. after today, you figured he deserves one meaningless victory.

by the time the rain settles down outside, the apartment has grown warm with that particular nighttime stillness you'd learned to appreciate. the television plays quietly from the living room while you wash two plates in the sink, and megumi is sprawled on the couch doing his homework until you tell him to wrap up for bed.

when he's finally changed into pajamas and climbed beneath the blankets, exhaustion has taken over your son. his bruised eye still looks awful beneath the warm light of the bedside lamp, and even though you'd checked it several times throughout the evening, you find yourself inspecting it once more as you sit beside him and gently sweep his bangs away from his forehead. megumi tolerates the attention for a few seconds before sinking deeper into his pillow with a sigh.

"mom, you've looked at it like a hundred times and it still looks the same, i don't think staring is going to make it disappear."

"i'm aware that glaring at a bruise is not medically proven treatment, thank you very much smartypants." you chide, smoothing the blanket over his chest before your expression softens again.

"megumi, honey, listen to me because i'm being completely serious right now. i know i don't always have every answer. our life isn't exactly like everybody else's, but there has never been a day where taking care of you felt like a burden i wished i could put down. you are my favorite person in this entire world. even though i don't condone what you did today… between you and me, that kid deserved it."

megumi's mouth twitches slightly. "you said i shouldn't have punched him, but you also said he deserved it... i think you're sending me mixed messages."

you let out a quiet mocked gasp and gently pinch his cheek. "i said no such thing."

"you kindaaaa did."

"i kinda-absolutely-did-not! goodness, this conversation is supposed to be about how deeply and unconditionally i love you, you little menace."

that manages to get a small laugh from him, and the sound immediately fills you with happiness. you bend down and press a long kiss against his forehead, then rest your hand against his hair as you speak more quietly. "can i get an 'i love you' for the road?"

he watches you for another moment before mumbling an "i love you". you smile and brush your thumb over his temple before standing.

"goodnight, megumi."

"goodnight, mama."

the sincerity in his voice pangs in your heart. you hadn't heard him call you mama in a good while. when you glance back, he's already curling toward the wall with the blanket tucked underneath his chin. you leave the door cracked the way he still secretly prefers and stand there for several seconds longer than necessary, watching until his breathing begins to even out.

only once you're back in the kitchen does the weight of the day settle. you feel pathetic for letting makoto's cruel comment ruin your night, even more so because you know it wasn't really the child who'd gotten beneath your skin. perhaps, part of you still worried they were right. not about megumi—never about him. but rather about yourself. you stare at the half-clean kitchen for another minute before deciding you've had enough emotionally mature mom-ing for one evening.

"fuck it," you whisper to yourself, opening the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulling down the cheap bottle of wine you saved for moments like this. you pour yourself a generous glass and carry it toward the living room. after a few bitter sips, a knock echoes from the front door. for a few seconds you wondered whether you'd imagined it due to how late it was. another rap comes a moment later, heavier and more deliberate this time.

you set the wine glass on the coffee table and glance toward the hallway by habit, checking that megumi's bedroom door remains undisturbed before approaching the entrance. nobody you knew had any business coming over at this time without calling first, and the uneasiness gathering in your stomach only worsens as you lean forward and look through the peephole. your entire body goes cold at the realization. what a sick coincidence.

there was no logical reason for toji fushiguro to be standing outside your apartment after years of silence. you unlock the door but keep the chain latched, opening it only enough to stare at him through the narrow gap. "i'm assuming there's some emergency happening, because i can't imagine another reason you would think showing up at my apartment without warning was even a remotely acceptable thing to do."

toji's gaze moves over your face before flicking toward the chain. "wow, nice to see you too."

you almost laugh at the audacity. "you don't get to feel any kind of way right now, toji. i didn't ask you to come here."

his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "if you're planning on turning this into an argument, save yourself the effort because i didn't come here to fight with you."

"unless you have something useful to say, i suggest you leave."

toji exhales through his nose, his patience already wearing thin in that familiar way that used to drive you insane. "can you open the damn door first? i don't feel like airing our personal shit where every fucking person on this floor can hear us."

you scoff in disbelief. you remember all those months passing without so much as a text message, and whatever sympathy that was threatening to surface disappears immediately.

"you gonna let me in or not?"

you stare at him for several long seconds before shutting the door in his face. there's an immediate thud against the other side.

"babe, seriously?"

"i'm taking the chain off, jackass. don't call me that."

the hallway falls quiet. you remove the chain and reopen the door, stepping aside just enough for him to enter.

"five minutes, toji. i'm serious. i've got work and megumi has school tomorrow. unlike some people, we operate with an actual schedule."

his eyes narrow slightly as he walks past you. "you always gotta throw something in there, don't you?"

"you give me plenty of material."

you close the door quietly behind him and fold your arms across your chest. there had been a time when toji's presence could consume whatever room he entered, when you knew the shape his jacket in the back of your mind and exactly where he'd kick his shoes despite you asking him a thousand times not to leave them in the walkway. now, he looks almost displaced.

his gaze drifts across the apartment and you hate yourself for noticing every place it lands. megumi's backpack is still on the breakfast nook with his homework folder peeking out, the corner of one worksheet folded where he'd erased too aggressively earlier. the frozen bag of peas sits abandoned beside the sink, already softened enough that condensation covered it. from your shared past experiences, he knew you always kept a spare bag when he came home from a bad job. toji's eyes linger there.

"something happen?"

you know better and should've lied because the last thing you needed was to give toji ammo to stay longer. alas, your honesty betrays you.

"megumi got into a fight at school." toji's attention snaps toward you so quickly that you immediately regret saying anything.

"what? our megumi?"

that jilts you. when did he believe he had any claim over your son?

you answer flatly. "he's fine."

"what do you mean he got into a fight?"

"i mean exactly what i said, toji. before you start working yourself up, i've already handled it and he's sleeping now."

his expression darkens. "just tell me what happened."

you exhale slowly and move toward the coffee table, reaching for your wine because you need something to do with your hands when you got on edge. "another boy said something, megumi punched him, the other kid hit him back. he has a little shiner, that's it."

"what did the kid say?"

you take an extended sip.

"mm, it doesn't concern you."

"stop, don't do that."

you look at him over the rim of your glass. "don't do what?"

"hide whatever caused this. obviously it fucking matters if a level-headed kid like megumi hit somebody first."

"interesting. coulda fooled me that you're the expert on my child."

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them and toji's jaw ticks. you know what strikes his nerve.

"see, there it is."

"there what is?"

"the actual reason you let me in."

you laugh humourlessly. "you think i invited you inside because i've been waiting forever for an opportunity to argue with you? trust me, toji, i've had plenty of mental arguments when you were gone and they were all more productive than this."

"then tell me what happened instead of playing games."

"i'm not playing games."

"tell me what the fucking kid said!"

you stare down into your glass. you wish, more than anything, that you didn't still possess this stupid, ugly desire for toji to hear what happened and react correctly. not violently or defensively, not with the same pride that had poisoned half your conversations while you were together. that small part of you that still loved him hard wanted him to understand and kiss away your tears and tell you it was going to be okay.

"he told megumi it was my fault you left."

toji's eyebrows pull together, and you continue before you lose your nerve.

"apparently his mother has some opinions about me, and like most people who don't know when to shut their mouth, she shared them where her son could hear. he told megumi that women like me can't keep men, and megumi punched him because he thought he had to defend me."

toji looks away, but you see it. that flash of guilt.

"that's fucked up."

you wait, but nothing else comes. your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass.

"that's it?"

his gaze returns to you. "what do you mean, that's it?"

"i don't know, i suppose i imagined there might be something more substantial. finding out your son got into his first real fight because another child was making fun of him and his mother for not having a father around means nothing, then?"

his expression twists. "don't turn it into that."

"turn it into what?"

"you know what i mean."

"actually i don't, so please explain it to me. i'm dying to know what exactly you're insinuating."

"you're making it sound like i wanted to fucking leave."

you stare at him. you don't even feel angry, just stunned.

"didn't you, though?"

toji exhales sharply, already irritated by the direction the conversation has taken. ""no, of course not. you know damn well that's not how it happened."

"that's funny, because i don't remember being given much information to work with."

his jaw shifts. "you knew what i did for a living."

"don't you dare."

"i'm not throwing it in your face, i'm saying you knew there were gonna be times i couldn't tell you everything."

"everything?" you repeat incredulously, lowering your glass. "toji, i knew you killed people for money, i think we were several miles past the point of expecting full transparency about your work." his expression tightens, but you continue before he can interrupt. "i knew what you were capable of before i ever decided to build a life with you, what it meant when you disappeared. i knew better than to ask names or know where you were going, and god knows i learned very quickly not to ask when you'd be home because half the time you couldn't answer me anyway."

toji's gaze drops.

"you'd leave for a three day job and come back after five, and we'd fight about it because i was worried sick spent those extra forty-eight hours wondering whether something had happened to you. you gave me lousy apologies and we'd move on. those were our bumps, toji. i understood because i had no other choice."

"this wasn't like those jobs, it was high risk."

you laugh quietly, but there is nothing remotely amused in it. "high risk and you took five fucking years."

you hated stating it literally because the duration of his absence felt easier to manage when you didn't give it a time. time blended together more kindly that way, reduced to birthdays and school pictures and clothes megumi outgrew rather than one enormous stretch of life in which toji simply did not exist. a blip where your husband should have been. instead, you lived life like a widow.

"i couldn't contact you, it was too dangerous."

you study his face waiting for signs of bluff, but toji isn't lying and that made it worse.

"and not knowing nearly destroyed me. you don't know how hard it was to care for megumi without knowing whether you were alive or not."

your words shut him up. you set down the glass before your hands can fail with how badly they've begun to shake. you press your lips together, but the emotion has already climbed too high in your throat to force back down.

"i didn't know whether you were somewhere choosing not to call me or whether you were lying dead in a ditch."

"i wasn't dead."

"fuck, i know that now!"

your voice jumps before you can stop it. your eyes dart toward the hallway. the anger drains from your face and toji notices.

"baby, i was trying to come back."

"i said stop calling me that. i don't care because trying didn't help me when megumi had a fever and i was so terrified i stayed awake all night to make sure he was breathing. or when i had to choose between missing work and watching him because daycare fell through even though i wasn't making rent that month."

"did you not get the money i sent you? i thought it was covering something, but—"

"what money are you talking about?"

the irritation that had been taut across his features falters. "the money i sent every month."

you stare back at him with such complete disbelief that his brows slowly upturn, and the horrible realization begins creeping across his face before you even have to answer him. "there was no money. not one cent from you showed up after you disappeared. if somebody convinced you otherwise, then congratulations on trusting the wrong person with the well-being of your family."

"that's not fucking possible. he told me it was handled."

a scoff. "congratulations, you were scammed."

toji drags a hand down his face as he turns away from you, and for once there is no immediate rebuttal, only restless movement as he paced the room. "i left enough to cover the apartment for a long time. i sent it in portions so it wouldn't look suspicious. the whole point was making sure nobody could trace anything back to you or megumi."

"well whoever you trusted clearly decided he needed it more than we did, because i spent the first year after you disappeared selling half the shit we owned just to keep us from drowning."

his head snaps back toward you. "if i'd known there was even a chance the money wasn't getting to you, i would've found another way."

"i don't care about the money, toji!"

toji goes completely still. you let out a shaky breath before continuing, an ache growing in your stomach. "i showed him pictures of you when he cried. i would tell him fairy tales about where you were, but megumi got older and smarter and knew they were pathetic excuses. he stopped asking about you."

"it fucking kills me inside that i missed everything. please, you have to give me a chance."

you blink.

"tell me what i missed. i already know saying i had reasons doesn't magically erase what happened. but he's my son and you're still my wife, and maybe that doesn't mean shit to you anymore—but it means everything to me."

his gaze made you stir still after so long, and the anger between you seems to collapse beneath the exhaustion of finally saying something neither of you had been willing to acknowledge.

"he looks like you when he smiles." your voice cracks when you say it. "every single day he gets closer to looking like your copy. there were so many nights where i'd cry myself to sleep with a picture frame of you. i don't hate you, toji, and that is part of what makes this so fucking unbearable. i needed my husband."

the confession rips out before you can reconsider it. you feel a tear roll down your cheek and finally realize you'd begun crying. he steps closer, slow enough that you could easily move away, but your heartbeat stumbles and you stay put. his hand lifts toward your face, cupping your cheek and you instinctively lean into the touch. his knuckles brush carefully beneath your eye to wipe away stray tears. you should stop him.

your shared muscle memory moves faster than good sense and when his mouth finds yours your body answers out of pure habit. your hand catches automatically against the front of his shirt, and you lean your entire body into the feeling. then reality hits. you pull back so quickly that your shoulder bumps against the edge of the wall, and the sudden nausea rising through your stomach forces you to press one hand against your mouth while the other shoves weakly against his chest.

toji moves away immediately. "shit, i shouldn't have done that."

you stare at him through watery eyes. the look on his face makes you feel worse because he doesn't appear triumphant or smug or even hopeful, only devastated that you seemed regretful.

"i'm sorry."

"you need to leave."

"i swear, i wasn't trying to push you into anything."

you wipe furiously beneath your eyes, your demand still standing. his gaze shifts briefly toward the hallway before returning to you, and the longing there is so obvious that it feels invasive even though he makes no move toward megumi's room.

"just don't let him forget about me, even if you don't tell him i was here tonight."

he pauses.

"i will always love you. to my dying breath."

your face crumples before you can stop it. "get out."

toji's expression breaks slightly, but he nods and pulls the door open without another word, leaving with a click.

you lock the door the instant it closes, your knees finally giving out. you sink onto the floor beside the entrance with one hand clamped over your mouth because the first sob leaves you far louder than you intended. you press your palms against your eyes until colors burst behind them, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet enough that megumi won't hear.

however, you don't hear the faint movement from the bedroom down the hall. megumi stands barefoot just beyond the edge of the living room, mostly hidden by the darkness stretching, with one hand curled tightly around the doorframe and the blanket he'd dragged with him gathered against his chest.

he had woken sometime around the first raised voices, disoriented enough that he'd nearly called for you before recognizing the unfamiliar man's voice coming from the living room. his father had been standing inside their apartment.

and you, his mother, was sitting on the floor beside the front door with her face buried in her hands because of him.

he doesn't approach you. instead, he watches with tears gathering silently in his own eyes before retreating toward his bedroom as carefully as he can manage, closing the door behind himself and crawling beneath the blankets without turning on the light. i hope the bruise stays, he thought to himself. i don't want to look like him.

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gojo and geto, who were sitting at the table enjoying cereal, only shrug; both as equally confused as choso. "did u lace his shit or something?" gojo asks, mouth full of cereal and practically spraying it everywhere, causing geto to reprimand him. "don't speak with your mouth full, idiot." gojo merely ignores him and continues to speak as he eats, "shut up, mom."

choso ignores their regular bickering and answers, "he hasn't gotten anything from me in a while, actually."

geto suggests, "maybe it's just one of those moods. y'know how he gets."

the three of them try to shrug it off, oblivious to the real reasoning behind toji's sour mood. toji has always made it a habit to keep an eye on you, especially at parties, and from his observations, he has come to the conclusion that you have the biggest, fattest, most annoying crush on choso. everytime you were at parties with him, you always asked if choso was going to be there; "where's choso?" "do y'know if choso's coming?" "i need to ask choso something!"

in truth, you only ever asked for choso because recently, you had started helping him out with his selling. especially win finals were beating everyone's ass, more and more people wanted something to take the edge of. he was the most well known source on campus so it was only natural he had more people but he could not keep up with the orders, or really anything, for the life of him. so you helped him track everything and whatnot. plus, choso gave you freebies in return so it was a win-win!

honestly, if you weren't as cute as you were, toji would've found you infinetly more annoying. and as much as he wants to hate you, he knows he can't fault you for some crush on his friend.

so instead, he'll hate choso.

it started out as little things, such as trying to avoid him. but eventually, his jealousy and resentment festered into something harsher, and even more annoying to deal with for the frat. and especially for choso.

"listen man," choso starts, "i don't know what i did for you to act like this but this shit's getting old. what the hell did i do to you?"

"not a damn thing," toji practically spits out. on his way out of the frat house, he purposely bumped his shoulder against choso's, causing the latter to falter slightly before toji leaves, letting the door slam behind him.

choso curses under his breath in annoyance before falling onto the couch in exhaustion. it had been more than two weeks of this behavior and toji still won't tell anyone anything about why he suddenly hated choso's entire being. sukuna walks into the living room after hearing the loud slam. he sees choso sprawled on the couch in exasperation and puts the pieces together.

"toji again?" sukuna asks. choso only grunts out a response before he fumbles around in his pocket for a pre-roll and lighter. placing the stick in his mouth, he fights with his lighter until sukuna comes up to him and lights it for him with his own lighter. choso mumbles a "thanks" and inhales before blowing the cloud of smoke away from sukuna.

"and you're sure you didn't lace his shit?" sukuna jokes.

"i wish i had," choso grumbles, already fed up with the entire situation.

"y'know if him and yn broke up or something?" sukuna asks, taking a seat on the couch as well.

"didn't even know they were dating. where'd you get that from?"

"maybe they aren't then. you would think with the way toji eyeballs her during parties that he's made it official by now," sukuna replies. "but she's probably your best bet to getting to the bottom of this. he's pretty much obsessed with the girl so maybe he told her why he's soo pissed at you."

choso looks almost shocked that sukuna's plan was actually kind of good. "y'know if she's coming to party tonight?"

"should be, she never misses these parties," sukuna says.

just as they thought, you show up at the party fashionably late and all dolled up. you greet all of your friends and was about to head over to toji, who you saw towering over the crowd of people in the distance, before choso approaches you.

from toji's perspective, choso is yet again cock-block of the year. he was standing a fair distance from you with sukuna with choso blocks his view of you and pulls you out of the crowd and, ultimately, away from him. toji grips the can of beer harder, enough for the crinkle of the metal to be heard. sukuna, who saw the entire thing and the way toji reacted merely chuckled before taking a swig of his own drink. so that's what this is about, sukuna thinks to himself.

"why don't you just talk to her," sukuna offers. "you haven't seen her in a while right?"

toji is gruff in his response, "exam season's a bitch. she's had back to back finals so i haven't had a chance."

"here's your chance then, romeo," sukuna laughs, elbowing his friend and urging him to catch up to you. "yn and choso are just friends. i think everyone but you knows that she has a crush on you."

"shut up, man," toji says in annoyance, chugging the remainder of his drink.

"it's true. in fact, im so certain that you should go and tell her everything. and give choso a break, damn. i haven't seen that guy so stressed out since his kid brother got shipped off to that charter school."

the two laugh at the memory, it was a while ago when choso found out that yuji itadori was getting sent to some technical school for highschool. choso seriously thought he was never going to see him again since it was some fancy abroad program. poor guy was practically pulling his hair out in stress.

in truth, toji felt bad about the whole thing. choso was one of his closest friends and he knows it was petty of him to be going to such lengths just because of some wack hypothesis. as much as he hates to admit it, sukuna was right. he hands his friend his empty can before heading off to the direction you went it. toji was going to apologize to choso but first, he was going to ask you out on a real date.

݁⋆⭒˚.⋆

choso pulls you to the back patio where it was more quiet, with only a few people out there but there was still music playing so no one could hear your conversation.

"hey cho! what's up?" you ask.

"have you talked to toji recently?" choso begins, "has he told you anything about me?"

you hum in thought, "in all honesty, i haven't seen him in a while. our schedules havent been lining up recently. but why do you ask? did something happen between the two of you?"

choso lets out a sigh, "i wish i knew. the past two weeks he's just been on my dick for no reason."

you can't help but giggle at that, "well that does sound like him."

the dark haired male shakes his head. "this is different than those times," he disagrees. "he's like, actually pissed off at me. usually whenever he gets like this, he's over it within a few days. but it's been going on like this for way too long for it to be something simple."

this catches your attention; yes, toji had his moods and would often just ignore it before it ultimately fizzled out and he was back to normal. but more often than not, these little mood swings of his would last no more than a couple days. it was unlike him to ignore one of his closest friends like this.

"i'll go find him and see if i can get to the bottom of this for you, cho," you tell him. choso visibly relaxes in relief and pulls you into a hug in grattitude. you return it easily and rub his back, reassuring him that this would blow over. from your position, you looked up to see toji a good few feet away with an unreadable look on his face. you pull away from choso with a smile and go to wave toji down only for him to turn away with such a furious look it almost made you flinch. choso turns around just in time to see toji rushing off and he also pieces the entire situation together. he drags his hands down his face in frustration just as you excuse yourself to go hunt down toji.

you push and shove past the sea of bodies trying to find toji. by the time the crowd parts just enough for you to squeeze through, you see toji at the makeshift bar making out with a girl. you don't know why your chest hurts to see the way he grips her waist and pulls her even closer. you had no claim on him, you knew this. but some part you—some stupid, idiotic part— had thought that you would be fine with that. you could have toji even if it wasn't officially. though, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, the ache in your chest just wouldn't fade away.

And in an instant, he had you pegged. Planned out his play as you looked past him. Or, over him. 

You were someone he might’ve slept with. Heels clicking as you walked up to the main entrance, pausing to give someone who was playing guitar on the sidewalk some cash between buildings, smiling all pretty before you shrugged your purse over your shoulder and hurried inside. 

Sure, he couldn’t pull his usual tricks on you. Slide up to you or slip you his number, call you doll or pretty, until you were giggling and grinning up at him. 

But who said he couldn’t find another way to win you over? And win himself somewhere warm to sleep while he was at it? He perked up, an idea brewing in his lemon-sized brain. 

He supposed he’d find out pretty soon if you were a dog person. 

ᴥ

You heard of the cat distribution service before. Giggled at the idea of the universe hanging you a pet on a silver platter like that. But the green-eyed shaggy beast barking in front of you felt a little more like a cosmic joke. 

Did the dog distribution service exist? And if it did, why the hell had it decided you were capable of taking care of this? 

All you were attempting to do was go back down the street after a particularly grueling shift, but this…stray was prowling around as if it were waiting for you. Padding back-and-forth on dirty paws, leaving muddy prints on the concrete as you glanced around for an owner you already knew didn’t exist. 

He wasn’t wearing a collar – and judging by the fact you could see a couple ribs poking out, you doubted he’d been fed anything outside of scraps for a while. 

“Hi, puppy,” you tried to greet him, holding your hand out for him to sniff. Tilting your head to the side while you cringed at the idea this hulking thing could possibly be a puppy. He was too big, dark scraggly fur sticking up, his coat dirty from living on the street for however long he’d been living out here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d even seen a stray dog around here. Let alone one this large. 

Was he someone’s pet they tossed out when he grew past puppy size? One that escaped and scrounged to survive? 

He curiously came up, his long tongue sticking out and dragging over your fingers. It was kinda gross, struggling not to cringe outwardly this time before you wiped his slobber off on your pencil skirt. Glancing around as if someone else wearing an ‘I LOVE DOGS’ shirt would waltz up and take him in so you didn't have to.

“I don’t have any food for you,” you apologetically murmured, ignoring the snickering of another one of your coworkers brushing past you and the mutt rubbing his nose against your skirt. 

He let out a low ruff, and you couldn’t tell what he was trying to communicate. 

Still, you were convinced he would lose interest after a block. Or two. But he was still trailing after you by the time you finally reached your apartment. 

“You can’t come in,” you protested at first, frowning at him yipping and pawing at your heels. You bit your lap, looking around to see if anyone else was around before almost immediately caving in and opening the door to the lobby for him. He rubbed his head against your legs, but followed your lead up to the back stairwell, keeping up with you until you reached your front door. 

Were you a fool for letting some mangy thing inside your place? 

Probably, yeah. 

But you told yourself this was a temporary thing. God knows you couldn’t afford the additional pet deposit you’d need to pay to keep him. Or the dog toys and food required to keep an animal this big well-fed. And honestly? 

You were too lazy to find the time to walk him every day. 

He’d need what? At least an hour? A few miles? 

You’d give him a few days, a week maybe. You’d have to take him to a vet too, get him checked out to see if he had a chip or anything. Afterwards, you could look up animal shelters nearby, but if those were full, you could try posting online to see if he was anyone’s missing pet. 

A lot of work for…what? 

Some stray? 

He looked up at you with those dark green eyes, and you noticed a strange scar stretching over his lip, still visible through his fur, all jagged and rough. It was enough to tug on your heartstrings, squeezing it just hard enough that you only sighed as you unlocked your front door, barely beginning to push it open before he was barralling his way in. 

Most of the mud on his paws had come off on the walk here at least, only leaving little marks of dirt as he padded into your living room, looking around almost critically. Eyes shifting from your couch to the tv hanging a little lopsided on your wall, quickly locating the adjoining kitchen and heading in the direction of your fridge.

Greedy thing, wasn’t he? 

He barked, trying to get your attention. 

Surely, if he knew what a fridge was, knew where to go, he had to belong to somebody, right? Maybe you would only have to play dogsitter for a day or two if someone was out there missing him. You’d have to keep an eye out tomorrow for posters on lampposts, fingers crossed that you’d get a reward for being a good samaritan.

You kicked off your heels, following your new friend over to your fridge. 

He was pawing at it, practically whining, and another prick of guilt got you. Pierced into your soul, disappointed in yourself for already thinking about how fast you could get rid of him while the poor thing was staring. 

“Do you like steak?” You asked, not sure what else you could feed him that you already had on hand. The steak was supposed to be for a date later this week, a guy you had sorta been seeing for the past few weeks. 

You offered to cook for him, already got the ingredients, but you supposed you would just have to go to the store for another one – and pick up some actual dog food there too. 

The dog was nodding, head moving up-and-down, as it was actually answering, and you giggled a little. 

He was kinda cute. In a scraggly way. 

Like the type of guy you swore you could fix. On the bright side, you could fix him. Fatten him up with some real food. Get him some proper exercise. Maybe a dog bed for him to stay comfy until you found him a new (or old) home. 

“Suppose I should name you for now,” you murmured, getting down on his level. Not quite nose-to-nose, his surprisingly intelligent stare locking onto you.

He barked, and if you could almost believe he was trying to tell you a name when he was making eye contact like this. 

But dogs couldn’t talk. And unfortunately for him, you weren’t all that creative. You went with the first (and not very fitting) name your brain came up with as you reached out to pet his scraggly fur. 

“What about Fluffy?” 

ᴥ

“Good boy.” 

How fucking frustrating. 

Toji was not a good boy. The number of bounties on his human body could probably vouch for that. Actually, anyone who ever met him would fucking agree that he was about as far as he could get from the definition of good. 

He was a bad, bad man. One who would most certainly be much happier out there murdering people than having his paws shoved inside a fucking pet sweater before having a goddamn green collar fastened around his neck, a leash attached.

If he could scowl, he would be right now, regretting every bad decision that led him here. 

(Although as much as he hated to admit it, the sweater was kinda comfy.) 

“C’mon, Fluffy,” you purred, scratching behind his ear in a way that reflexively had him leaning into your hand, unable to control the canine whimper that came from his throat as you managed to make that infuriating itch that had been bothering him disappear. 

Perhaps he picked the wrong woman. 

You let him in. Fed him. But it was like you were trying to irritate him, piss him off with your cutesy nickname and condescending baby talk. Completely clueless, convinced you were doing a good deed by taking care of him. 

“We’re going on a walk,” you spoke softly, pulling lightly on his leash to get him to follow you. 

He barked back, trying to communicate that he didn’t fucking feel like it, that it was far too early in the morning to make him get up, the sun barely up before you were attempting to force him off of your couch. 

Wasn’t it bad enough that he was collared and leashed? Contained in the body of a canine? 

Toji didn’t know how long he could take it. 

Sure, the steak you fed him was great. The warmth of your apartment, the coziness of your couch, that was all fine.

But putting up with you? And this? 

He whined, resisting as you exhaled hard, rolling your eyes at him. 

“You’re going to be stuck here all day,” you huffed. “Don’t you need to like, piss?”

Toji grimaced, his grumbling only coming out in low barks as he begrudgingly let you lead him to the front door. Your purse was tucked over your shoulder, plastic shopping bags sticking out of it as you plucked your keys free. 

He had learned a few things about you over the past fourteen hours. 

You were smart, sharp enough to look a little suspicious at his human-ish behavior. He had to do a few circles, sniff around the furniture to shake your stare after he scarfed down the steak and wiped his mouth on one of your hand towels before getting shocked by his own reflection looking back at him in the oven. 

Growling a little, disturbed at the thought he made an ugly mutt. 

Affectionate too, in an easy way. Rubbing his head and scratching underneath his chin every time you so much as brushed against him. 

But you were still a fool. 

Just stupid enough to see a stray and let it sleep with you. 

Well, adjacent to you. 

Shutting him out of your bedroom, leaving him to crash on your couch, curled up in the corner, eyes shutting from exhaustion before he could stop himself. He didn’t mean to doze off – but he couldn’t control it. After so long scrounging for survival, his body refused to stay awake any longer, bones worn, limbs terribly tired as dreams washed over him. 

In them, he was human again, but still here. 

Staring down at a sleeping dog in front of him, paws hanging off the couch and snoring while he scoffed. 

What the fuck was he doing? 

How the hell was he supposed to get back to his own body? 

There were still things he had to do. Debt to be paid and bets to be made. 

His life wasn’t good. Had never really been. But it was still his to live. 

Toji flexed his fingers, trying to hold onto the feeling of having them before he found himself snapping back into his dog form – like some rubber band snapping and rebounding him back into the proper place. 

He didn’t get the chance to protest. 

Why did he expect anything different? 

The world wasn’t kind to him. Why would it cut him a break now? 

This was as good as it was going to get. 

Maybe the universe was telling him to be grateful or some stupid bullshit like that – reminding him that even his strength could be humbled and stolen from him. Reduced down to a dog wearing a sweater, stuck on the leash of a woman who would go on to marry some small-dicked loser and have a picket fence life without half the worries he had. 

Who would never know blood and death the way he did. Protected by the sorcerers he was contracted to kill.  

“Are you really gonna fight me on this?” You pouted, stomping one of your heels as you gave another small tug at his leash. 

He shook his head, and you blinked back surprise again, eyes narrowing before you swallowed hard. Accepted it as a little quirk, or whatever you had to tell yourself before letting it go at that. Leading him back down the hall, down the stairs, taking him back to the sidewalk and the streets he’d been prowling for the past couple weeks. 

“See,” you murmured softly. “It’s not that bad.” 

Yeah, it was, but he couldn’t argue with you the way he wanted to. 

It was cold on his paws, the wind nipping at his nose, and you were barely hiding your shiver under your coat in the early morning air. 

You had the decency to turn your back when he did his, uh, business. 

The whole thing felt intimate – in a way he despised. How you would bend down to speak quietly to him, how your fingers felt running through his scruff. The way the tips of them would skim over his jaw as your eyes locked onto his. 

If he was better, less self-centered, perhaps he’d stop to appreciate the fact you still spoke to him, even when he was only a dog. But you didn’t know he was really a human like you. 

Actually, not really like you. 

You were supposed to be nothing. You weren’t a sorcerer. Didn’t belong to a clan. There wasn’t even enough money in your purse to really have a place in his normal life. 

The paths you were both on should have stayed separate. Never crossing, never intertwining. You were weak. 

And you were still the one person who stopped for him. 

“Guess I need to get you to a vet tomorrow,” you sighed, standing up straight and looking left back towards your apartment. “I’ll take you out for another walk after work.” 

And you did. 

The whole day by himself, padding around an empty apartment of a stranger, dozing off on the floor and fighting his animal impulses to find out how chewable your shoes and furniture were, it was kind of lonely. 

Toji thought he knew what loneliness was. How it felt to be by himself, to not have anyone to talk to or turn to. But it wasn’t like this. Nowhere to go and nothing to do, nothing but his own morbid thoughts. 

He was almost relieved to hear your key turn in the door. Showing up with a big bag of food, arms full with a comfy cushion big enough for him to sleep on and a bag of dog toys, setting up his bed next to your own and patting it softly before you peeled off your clothes to put on pajamas. 

He was sleazy, sure. 

But this time, he turned around, paws sinking into the soft cushion instead of staring at the bare expanse of your skin when your top came off. Didn’t watch you change or take the easy opportunity to see a pretty girl strip right in front of him. 

It didn’t feel right. 

He slept on the floor, shoving down the depressingly long day before you were walking over to him. Getting down on your knees, rubbing his back and resting your head on top of his. 

“Good night.” 

When was the last time someone had actually wished him that? 

He was struck by the strange sensation pricking underneath his fur and skin that it felt nice to hear. 

Truly, Toji loathed how easy it was to get used to this.

How long did it take? 

Not nearly enough for him to find justification. 

Even if his days stretched out far longer lately. 

When did it happen exactly? How did getting his head scratched go from irritating to intoxicating? When did he start catching his tail wagging waiting for you to get back home? Or listening on the rare occasions where you patted for him to jump up and join you in bed at night? How he couldn’t control his impulses when it came to sniffing and licking your face the next morning? 

Looking forward to the way you would sleepily stroke his fur, yawning and snuggling him close. 

“Sweet boy,” you murmured, lazily throwing an arm around his torso. 

He’d been called a lot of things. 

Evil. Broke. Awful. 

Never sweet. Never anything carrying an even remotely positive connotation before you unless it was just about his looks. 

You took him to the vet, but he saw the way your brows knitted together when they scanned him for a chip and couldn’t find one. They offered to vaccinate him, but all it took was a few barks, whining and resisting for you to quickly decline and take him back home. Grumbling on the way back about needing to put up posters or make found dog posts online, but you didn’t do either. 

Just turned the tv on and gestured for him to join you yet again, letting him get up on the couch as you sighed and scrolled through shows, glancing over at him every so often, tilting your head to the side in a way that was almost annoyingly cute. 

He wanted to know what you were thinking. 

What was going on in your head when you looked at him like that. 

But the days ended how they usually did, with you returning back to your own bed, leaving him to his dreams. 

Ones where he was human again – where he wasn’t stuck being your pet and eating fucking kibble and taking pisses in the street. Where he would actually be able to hold someone again. 

Toji just didn’t realize he had started to think about holding you until the world reminded him that he couldn’t. 

Watching you hurry around your apartment after work the next day, shutting him out of your bedroom just to step back out in a ridiculously tiny dress five minutes later. One that clung to your chest, stuck to your skin and rode up your thighs. 

“I’m gonna be home late tonight, Fluffy,” you sighed, pulling at the hem of it as you slipped into your heels. You were even wearing more makeup than usual, the gloss on your lips catching the light as they parted apologetically. 

He barked, and if he could, he’d tell you not to fucking think about it. 

That you should really just stay here with him.

It was absurd. Simply absurd that he was attached to you like that. 

He wasn’t supposed to be attached to anyone. To need somebody other than himself. To count on your company like that. 

“I know,” you sympathetically sighed, bending down to cup his face. 

When you touched him like that, he almost felt human again. Almost felt like you were actually seeing him. 

But he was just a fucking dog to you. 

ᴥ

“Do you like dogs?” 

Your date coughed a little, wine dribbling down down his lips as he cleared his throat and used his napkin to wipe it off. 

“Do you have one?” He asked, forcing a smile that made you feel awkward as you took the last bite of the dessert he insisted on ordering. 

You postponed your date from before, but he suggested making a dinner reservation at some upscale restaurant that made you feel shy, a little guilty about ordering off the pricey menu when you had originally wanted to cook for him before. 

The discomfort only grew at how incompatible you were slowly starting to think you might be. 

“I sorta took in a stray,” you shrugged, dropping the fork down on the plate. He nodded along, placing a credit card over the receipt as you tried to judge where the rest of tonight was headed. If you should offer for him to come back to yours. 

Honestly, despite the not-so-great date, you were dying to get laid. 

To feel the warmth of something that wasn’t furry or inanimate. To be touched and adored, even if it was only for a few moments. Just a night where you were taken care of, treasured. 

Although, the barking beast probably snoozing on his bed back home might pose a problem judging by the way your date was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

He was a coworker, professional enough that you had never thought he was remotely interested in you until he politely declared that he'd like to go on a date with you a month ago, formally admitting his feelings for you had grown through break room chats and meetings. 

Nanami was cute. All serious and steady. The sort of guy it would be easy to picture a future with. He definitely did his taxes – probably had his retirement half paid for already, a future mapped in five-year plans. 

“Oh?” He asked, with just enough curiosity to help you work up the courage to ask your next question, thick fingers somehow still managing to hold a wine glass delicately. 

“You could come meet him?” 

How terribly could it go? 

Fluffy was a little feral. But he didn’t bark or try to bite the people you passed by when you took him on walks. 

So you hadn’t exactly anticipated how territorial he’d act after only living with you for a couple weeks. 

Silence greeted you back in your apartment, pushing the door opening and calling out to him. Laughing a little at Nanami’s wry comment about your naming abilities and letting your hands skim over his broad chest, the button-up clinging to it as the sound of paws padding towards you made you turn. 

Your dog started growling the second he saw Nanami next to you. 

A low sound, from the deepest part of his throat, rolling as you protectively stepped in front of him and scoffed. 

“Don’t be like that,” you scolded your pet, sighing and shaking your head with disapproval. “C’mon, Nanami.” 

“Kento,” he corrected you, but when you glanced back, his focus was on Fluffy. Amber eyes narrowed, lines forming between his brows as he watched your dog get low to the ground and continue howling with his own disgust. 

“We can go back to my bedroom,” you murmured, interlacing your fingers with him and leading him past your pet, keeping yourself between the two of them before you shut the door behind you. 

Neither of you even got past taking your shoes off, or even peeling a single article of clothing off, only your purse getting the chance to hit the floor. His hand had just cupped your face, the sharp slope of his nose nudging against yours as he leaned in for a kiss when a loud thump interrupted. 

Fluffy was throwing the whole fucking weight of his body against the door, barking and whining at being shut out. 

“He’s not usually like this,” you muttered, embarrassment edging in at how much you sounded like one of those dog owners who swore their dogs never bit when they definitely did. 

“Maybe next time we could go back to my place,” he lightly said, even when he was actively grimacing and glancing back to where the whole frame was shaking from the force of your dog acting like a dick.

Crack. 

Wood splintered. The frame gave out, hinges creaking as a large hole suddenly burst through the center. 

You stared at your now utterly destroyed door. 

“What the hell?” You hissed, glancing down at your dog on the other side through the dog-shaped crater, wood chips in his fur and scattered on the floor. He was baring his sharp teeth, growling at the man behind you. 

“I don't think he likes me very much,” Nanami dryly commented, and you couldn't even protest. 

Just blinking at the huge mess you'd have to clean up as you numbly attempted to collect a shred of composure and higher reasoning not to completely lose it at the dog still trying to break into your bedroom to what? 

Attack your date? 

“Perhaps it would be better if I left,” Nanami muttered, right as Fluffy started barking even louder through the broken and splintered wood. 

“You don’t have to-” You weakly protested, but he had made up his mind. 

And you had sealed your fate of not getting fucked tonight the second you suggested coming back here. 

You had to slip out of the door first, hardly managing to hold Fluffy back by his collar as your date hurried back out. Except, at the last second, he slipped from your grip, bounding across the living room in large strides and half-launching himself off the couch just for his canines to sink into the calf of your blond coworker. Ripping a hole in the tan fabric but thankfully not actually breaking his skin, only stopped by Nanami grabbing him by the collar and prying him off before he could. 

“Holy shit, I'm so sorry,” you started frantically apologizing, rushing to grab him and hold him back, rambling that you'd buy him a new pair of pants.

Nanami politely muttered something about seeing you in the office again on Monday, dusting off his now ripped pants with more professionalism than you think you could ever fucking muster as you contemplated finding a new job so you wouldn't have to face a break room conversation apologizing for your dog assaulting his slacks. 

The door shut too hard behind him, and you were left alone with your still-growling stray. 

“I swear to fucking God, if you try to break the front door, I'll drop you back off where I found you,” you threatened, only letting go of the collar when he stopped. But then he was pacing, making unhappy circles and looking at you like you were the one that had committed some grave sin. 

What the fuck were you supposed to do now? 

Buy a dog crate? A new door? Try to call around shelters again to see if any of them had suddenly become available to take him? 

Despite how pissed you were, how the disappointment and anger felt like it was boiling and bubbling underneath your skin, the thought of dropping him off somewhere and condemning him to being put to sleep or stuck somewhere for months without anyone to take him in kinda scared you.

You didn't want that to happen to him. 

Even if part of you hated him right now for this. 

Silently fuming when you stomped back into your bedroom, stripping down and huffing to yourself as you yanked pajamas from your dresser. Tossing them on and snatching your purse back up, rummaging through it for your phone to send an obligatory apology text before scanning through your contacts for someone to complain to. 

Calling one of your friends as you sat on the edge of your bed, listening to the phone ring and the sound of paw pads pacing in the living room drifted through the gaping hole in your door. 

“I thought you were on a date right-”

“My dog tried to fucking bite him,” you groaned into the phone, putting her on speaker before pulling up your browser to start searching for solutions for your current dog problem. 

What would a responsible adult do? 

You regretted not going along with your first plan, for putting your search for a proper place for him to stay on pause is it because you'd grown a little fond of the feral thing, procrastinating doing all those things you swore you'd take care of after they couldn't find a chip. 

“That sucks,” your friend sighed with you, and the sound of a loud thud forced you to push off the bed and venture back into your living room, carefully stepping over the remains of your door as you peered at the lamp he knocked over. 

At least Fluffy had the decency to look semi-guilty this time, attempting to nudge it back into place with his nose as you felt some invisible vein throb across your forehead. 

You tucked your phone between your ear and your shoulder, squatting down to pick it up and fix it without looking at him. 

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, he's just making another mess,” you muttered, feeling defeated at the thought this was nothing compared to the other big repair this place would need. Worn by the past few weeks. Maybe you just weren't cut out for pet ownership. “I just wanted to get laid tonight.” 

“God, I feel you there,” she giggled back, but your mood felt stuck in the gutter. “What are you gonna do about the dog?” 

The dog. Maybe that was how you should start thinking about him instead of your dog.

“I don’t know,” you drawled into the phone as you stepped into your kitchen, elbows on the counter as you watched him prowl back-and-forth in your living room. Hopping up on your couch and slobbering a little on your throw pillow before jumping back down. “Do you think it could be like testosterone making him more aggressive? Or like, his breed or-” 

“Does he still have his balls?” 

You looked back at him, catching a glimpse of the subjects of your conversation before sighing. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “You think I should go ahead and get him neutered?” 

His ears perked up almost instantly, head snapping towards you. 

It was a little funny, like he could somehow understand you, green eyes burning into yours with an expression that almost resembled betrayal. 

“I mean, if you take him to the shelter, they'd do it anyway,” she replied, and you shrugged. 

“Yeah, that's true,” you mumbled, considering it as your dog sorta stared at you like he was wishing you death for thinking about getting his balls cut off for the crime of preventing you from having some in your mouth tonight. 

Well, it wasn't like he could actually understand you. 

ᴥ

His balls?

You wanted to fucking neuter him? 

What new indignity was this? How fucking cruel was fate for this to be his life? 

First, you bring home a goddamn sorcerer. Act like you were going to fuck him, your hands on his chest while you giggled at what that fucking sap said as if it was even remotely funny or interesting. Looking up at him with a glint in your eyes and a smile you never gave Toji. All bright and grateful and giddy. 

Disgusting. 

The whole thing, really. 

Like he'd actually let that stuck-up prick parading around like he was better than everyone get to fuck you. Even as a dog, he could feel his cursed energy. Sense it the same way he did as a human. 

And even though that guy had no way to know it was Toji, he still caught the suspicious glances cast towards him, the flare of energy before Nanami or whatever the hell you called him had abruptly stopped after he tried to bite him. Like for a split second, he briefly considered using his technique. Like he thought Toji was a curse. 

He supposed he was pretty close. 

You were pretty when you were pissed. Pouting at him and grumbling to one of your friends on the phone, whining about wanting to have sex with someone – and it only irritated Toji more. 

God, if he could, he'd fuck you hard enough you forgot about Fluffy or Nanami or the hole in your door. 

But he couldn't. 

And if you had your way, apparently he wouldn't be able to fuck anyone even if he got transformed back into a human if he didn't have his damn balls. 

Toji refused to just lay there and take it. If he was anything, he was still a fighter, even in this form. 

Listening to you weigh the options, grabbing a trash bag and bending down to pick up all the broken pieces of wood and shove them inside. 

Maybe he wouldn't admit it even if he could, but he felt bad watching you clean up, a disturbing concoction of guilt and anger (and jealousy) brewing in the pit of his stomach as he laid his head down on his paws, stuck staring at you biting your lip and griping about what a dick he was, grumbling about all the overtime you’d have to work to cover the cost. 

You were both probably better off without each other. 

For once, Toji waited for the right moment, for you to be preoccupied tying up the trash bag while you pulled open the front door for him to make another impulsive decision. He ran. Nearly knocking you over, sprinting past you out into the hall and towards the stairs leading down to the lobby, ignoring your cries for him to stop. 

He could hear your footsteps, the panic in your voice, the way your breath hitched as you hurried to catch up. And for some stupid reason, it made his heart stall. Made him hesitate, pausing for a few painful seconds before he forced himself to keep going. 

Keep moving. 

One foot paw in front of the other.

The last step almost tripped him up, but he didn’t stop, skittering across the lobby and almost slamming into someone shaking off an umbrella before he beelined for the closing front door. Toji barely made it through, the concrete cold and freezing on his paws as rain started to pelt his fur. 

Of course, it would start to fucking pour when he was leaving you behind. On the bright side, you’d probably wouldn’t search for him when it was raining hard enough it was a struggle to see more than a couple feet in front of him. Racing down the sidewalk and slipping between people passing by, panting as he put distance between himself and a life of being a pet. 

A life of being yours. 

Telling himself he was scrambling from the possibility of being neutered so he didn’t have to think about what else he was running from. So he could ignore this frustrating tightness in his heart, the way his chest strained with every breath, his lungs constricted as he shut down the image that kept popping up behind his eyes of that irritatingly cute smile of yours. 

He was doing you a favor. 

You didn’t have the fucking guts to just toss him out like you should’ve done. 

The rain was starting to soak him entirely, his attempts to shake it off pointless when two seconds later, more water droplets would be clinging back to his fur as his pace slowed. 

He glanced back, trying to judge how far he made it, how much longer he’d have to keep going before he found some alley or discarded box discarded to take shelter in through the storm. 

But all he saw was you. 

Pajamas sticking to your skin, wisps of your hair clinging to your wet forehead as your voice was drowned out in the downpour. You were shivering, hand trembling as you held it up to shield your face from the rain and scan for him. 

The second you saw him, you were running to reach him. 

Toji knew he should run too. That this might be his only chance. He could try again with some other woman. Wait and hope and hold out faith that this curse would still wear off and he’d return to normal. 

But he stayed. 

Let himself be caught. 

Why? 

He couldn't comprehend it, couldn't understand the concern in your wide eyes either when you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his drenched fur. 

“Don’t do that again,” you murmured, breath catching in your throat as you hugged him tighter. “You scared me.” 

Maybe he’d lost brain cells. 

But he knew that wasn’t it, not when he heard the soft whine of his next bark as he relaxed into you. Licked some of the water off your skin like it would do anything to help. Nuzzled back into you as you laughed even after he ruined your night. 

Ruined your date and your door. 

You deserved better than him. 

Better than a loser like Toji could properly give you even if he was back in his own body. 

He wanted to tell you sorry. To apologize for the first time in his miserable life to the only person who’d put any effort into him. 

So he allowed you to grab ahold of his collar and lead him home, obediently walking back to your apartment, both of you absolutely drenched by the time you made it back to the lobby. He shook it out more effectively this time, water droplets flung all over the linoleum floor while your clothes dripped in a steady pitter-patter. 

“You can keep your balls if you don’t do that again,” you muttered under your breath, too tired to be mad at him anymore. “And if you leave my doors alone.” 

He barked, a short yip and a begrudging nod in agreement wishing he could ask you not to see that stupid guy anymore too if you were in the mood for making deals. 

The only thing he could do as a dog was try to scare away any of your…suitors.

Especially snotty blond sorcerers. 

The walk back up the stairs felt twice as long, the shame slowing him down, he supposed. Condemning himself to a future of being dragged around on the street if it meant sleeping in your room and biting any guy’s dick off that came around and tried to stick it in you. 

It was embarrassing to pad around, rubbing against your legs while you grabbed a towel from the bathroom and rubbed him until he was close to dry. 

Fuck, you even combed his hair out and brushed his goddamn teeth. 

He felt like a creep when he glanced up to catch a glimpse of your midriff when you went to change for the third time tonight, a single strip of your skin as you pulled your soaked shirt off before he turned away. Tail tucked between his legs as he walked back to his bed. 

His. 

Walking around in a circle before laying down to get comfortable. It wasn’t resignation, not exactly, but as close to contentment that someone like him could get to. 

Despite his fuck ups, you were still here. And so was he. 

Tomorrow, he’d try to make it up to you. Lick your face and snuggle with you on the couch, on top of your chest with his paws on your collarbones, let you call him Fluffy or whatever the fuck you felt like, as long as you scratched under his chin and looked in his eyes like he meant something more. 

Toji was still cold, involuntarily shaking, but there was a strange warmth in his chest. A fuzzy feeling in his chest he was unaccustomed to. 

Footsteps approached, and his head instinctively snapped up to see you drying your hair with a towel, dropping it by your feet with a sigh. He could smell you on it even from here – the familiar scent surging that same protectiveness he felt taking over him earlier. He was already getting back up off his hindlegs, searching for forgiveness with your hand stroking his fur. 

You leaned down to meet him halfway, and left a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. 

Of all the kisses he had before, however hot and hungry they were, none of them compared to that single tender press of your lips. The cute sigh, the small exhale dusting over him, smelling faintly like your mint toothpaste. 

And then you were standing up, switching off your light before getting in your bed and pulling back to the covers. It took a second for his eyes to adjust, but honestly, he could see better in the dark than he could when he was a human. You had paused, still staring at his shape before he noted the movement of your hands. Softly patting the spot next to you in your bed, sheets crinkling as you waited for him. 

He listened to you. 

You threw your arms around him like you did earlier, squeezing softly before mumbling something that he couldn’t fully hear, muffled into the pillow when you turned your face. Either you were calling yourself or him an idiot. 

He was an idiot for sticking around. And you were one for letting him. 

But this was the bed you both made to sleep in. 

You rolled over a little, your cheek exposed – and Toji couldn’t stop himself from moving up to lick it. Drag his tongue over it while you huffed and rubbed the skin to get his saliva off. 

“Gross,” you giggled, nudging his nose back down. 

You got back up, navigating through the dark back to your bathroom to re-wash your face before you came back to him. Offering one last pat to the top of his head before you rolled away from him. 

“Good night, Fluffy.”

ᴥ

There was a man in your bed.

A big, beefy, naked man. 

You screamed. Or, well, you were pretty sure you did. 

It was a big blur of movement, slipping out from underneath his heavy limbs and smacking him as hard as you could with the closest object – a hardback book by your bed, screaming for Fluffy, cold fear seeping in as the man groaned your name. 

You stared, and you realized with horror that he wasn’t totally naked. He was wearing your dog’s collar. It was too tight, the skin bulging a little over the green edges, and he was moaning again, waking up and slipping his fingers underneath it in an attempt to loosen it some before he rubbed the red mark on his forehead where the book connected. 

Honestly, if he wasn’t a stranger, an intruder, you would’ve thought he was hot. 

The dark hair, the toned chest, the thick ridges and cords of well-toned muscles, looking like he just leaned after a bulk, he was insanely attractive. You just had no choice but to believe he was fucking derranged considering he ended up nude in your bed at nine in the morning. 

You called out for Fluffy again, breathing hard, barely able to break your gaze to scan the room for him only to come up empty.

Did you forget to lock your door last night? 

Had your dog ran away again, slipped out when this guy snuck in? 

No, he wouldn’t. He might just be a mutt, an animal with all the instincts of one, but you felt like you made up. Fluffy wouldn’t leave you. 

“My dog could literally rip your throat out,” you threatened anyway, pointing your finger as you pressed your back against the wall, slowly stepping towards your still-demolished door. Where the fuck was he? 

If you screamed, would a neighbor call the cops?

“I am your dog,” the man in your bed grunted, sitting up and lifting his leg before pausing, like he wasn’t sure what he was about to do with it. Stopping completely, staring down at his hands in sudden shock, eyes stuck on his calloused palms before he slowly turned them around. Flexing his fingers before closing them into a fist, somehow managing to be more stunned as you inched closer to your exit. “Well, I was.” 

Great, so he was fucking crazy too. 

Even if it was eerie that he did sorta resemble Fluffy. 

The green eyes, that familiar glint in them as they narrowed on your trembling form. The scar that stretched over the corner of his mouth. The way he tilted his head just slightly as his stare dragged over you, like he was trying to see what he could get from you. 

“And my name’s Toji,” he gruffly informed you, swinging his long legs off your bed, the blanket barely keeping his crotch covered as you panicked and made a break for it, yanking open the door to slip out while he was still talking. “So you can stop calling me Fluffy, doll.”

Your dog wouldn’t call you doll. 

But he wasn’t waiting for you with a wagging tail in the living room either. Not sitting in front of your fridge or by the pantry where you kept his food. 

“Where ya’ goin’?” He called out, and you couldn’t get yourself to move. 

Staring at your locked front door, everything exactly as you left it the night before. 

Your wet shoes. The forgotten trash bag. Your phone on the connected kitchen counter. 

This guy, Toji, his footsteps creaked across your floor, following the same rhythm of your dogs, even if it was strange to hear, a little stilted like he was getting used to walking on two feet again. 

It didn’t make sense.

He came through your broken door, taking the space by your side as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. 

Watching you, observing you, and you had to force yourself to look up at him so your gaze didn't drift too low. 

“I don’t understand,” you blinked, barely comprehending the facts seemingly in front of your face.  

Your dog was missing. A stranger with the same eyes, the same jagged scar had taken his place.

“It’s complicated,” he grumbled, growling a little like he was still half-dog. 

“You can’t really expect me to believe-” It was so absurd you couldn’t even finish your sentence. Couldn’t say it. 

“What? Want me to bark for you?” He sarcastically offered, his voice hoarse, rough. He was rolling his shoulders back, really selling the whole visual, but your brain was still stuck on the sheer absurdity of the situation. 

And then he was stepping closer, hovering over you with an intensity that warped your fractured thoughts even more, shattering your common sense with just a casual smirk. 

“Woof.”

“You’re not-” You numbly protested, your stare drifting down from those damning eyes to those pretty lips. His huge shoulders, the biceps bulging as one of his hands landed on the wall behind your head. 

A treacherous jolt ran through you, straight to the center of your stomach, some intangible thing twisting inside you at his proximity. 

“I am,” he insisted again. 

You couldn’t even give a real reason for believing him. Explain it in any rational way. But when he was looking at you like this, when his fingers reached out to cup your face. They were rough. The pads slowly dragging over your cheekbone until he was tangled in his hair. 

“But you were a dog,” you uselessly said. Breathing harder, throat going dry as you stared at him, trying to find any evidence to argue with. But you didn’t know if you were trying to prove or disprove it.

What you even wanted the truth to be. 

“And you let me lick you right here,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the spot Fluffy had slobbered on last night. 

Your heart skipped. 

Stalled or stopped or seized, completely halting as Toji confirmed what you already instinctively felt. Skin or fur, he was familiar. 

And you guessed the collar wasn’t a lie.

He reached up to scratch at it again with his free hand, but you didn’t miss how he once again lifted his left foot before remembering it wouldn’t reach anymore. 

“I literally picked up your-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, disgust making your nose scrunch up as you smacked his chest. 

Once, and then again, all sorts of funny feelings fluttering and fluctuating in your chest as you struggled to sort through all of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, but it was obvious he was the kind of guy who never said sorry for anything ever. He hesitated, like he didn’t know what to do or really what to even say. Toji dryly swallowed, clearing his throat before speaking up again, “Sorry.”

Taking his hand from the wall to run his fingers through his short black hair, feeling his scalp, the individual strands, before his massive palm found your waist instead, just above your hip. Seeking reassurance in a subtle squeeze, wrinkling the little shorts you were wearing.

“What are you doing?” You asked, like you didn’t know. 

As if you were too stupid to see what was swirling behind his starving stare. 

This time though, you didn’t think a steak would satisfy him. 

Was this morally wrong? 

Inappropriate to share the hunger heating up the air between you when you’d been treating him like a pet for weeks? Seeing him as your dog? 

“Don’t play dumb,” he muttered, but that was really because he didn’t want to say it either. 

“I’ve taken care of you,” you started, forcing yourself to look away to break the tension. “You know, fed you and-” 

“I want to fuck you,” he grumbled, and you flinched. 

Froze as his heavy words sank in, instantly replaying them. Blunt, without beating around the bush, making sure couldn’t misunderstand it. 

“You say that to all your owners?” You mumbled, eyeing the door. “Or break their doors?” 

“I was doing you a favor then,” he argued, tilting your head back towards him. “Besides, you could do better than that guy.” 

“Yeah?” You exhaled hard, and his grip tightened. “Like my dog?” 

He laughed, but it came out more like a sharp bark. 

And then he was suddenly scooping you up, both hands grabbing your ass and abruptly lifting, carrying you back through your bedroom after kicking in the door the rest of the way. 

Returning you to your bed, his frame encompassing yours as he climbed on top of you fully. Hooking both your thighs around his thick waist, and you found yourself automatically wrapping your wrists over his neck, entranced by his face. 

“How am I supposed to know this isn’t a really weird dream?” You hesitantly asked. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” he grunted, burying his head into your neck and taking a big whiff. Groaning at the scent alone, grinding his hips down before he even kissed you properly. 

“That’s really helpful,” you sarcastically muttered back, but you found yourself scratching his head too, testing how it felt to sift through his hair, pulling it back so you could look at him again. 

He whined like your dog did at the separation. 

Although, you liked how it sounded better coming from an actual man. 

“Toji,” you said his name slowly, unsure of how it sounded on your tongue. 

He faltered too, and you watched his jaw lock up before he released it. 

“What?” He answered, and you felt a surge of courage. 

“Go get your leash.” 

Toji’s lips pressed in a thin line, his scar twitched, but he reluctantly got off of you, grumbling under his breath but still obeying. Still being your good pup. 

He yanked open the drawer of your dresser, pulling it out and tossing it to you. 

“C’mere,” you murmured softly, and he was back on top. But it was you fastening the leash to his collar, attaching it on and tugging him close enough his nose grazed yours. 

“Happy?” He snarkily asked, but he didn’t take it off. 

“Happier,” you admitted, and you did something as stupid as taking him in to start with.

You kissed him.  

Hard enough your teeth almost clashed, his lips opening enough to let you in as he returned it with the same fever. He kissed with enough experience that it sort of annoyed you, imagining some other girl getting to know what it felt like to have his tongue in their mouth once he was actually exploring yours. 

Tempted to bite his lip to get some petty revenge, but you didn’t even know for what. 

You guessed him fucking up your evening with Nanami made more sense now – added up with the realization he wasn’t just being territorial, but totally, completely, pathetically jealous. Snapping and barring his teeth to stop anyone else from sleeping with you because he wanted to. 

What kind of petty creature had you invited into your apartment?

Was it a full moon? Some kind of reverse werewolf that only turned back into a human once a month? 

God, you fucking hoped not.

One of his greedy hands snuck under your top, not subtle at all as he groped at your breast, taking advantage of the fact you slept without a bra to squeeze your tit. Toying with it and dragging his fingers over your nipple with a low chuckle, breaking the kiss to murmur next to your mouth that he couldn’t believe he’d been deprived of this for so long. 

“You’re feral,” you wryly replied, out-of-breath as his other hand slipped inside your shorts, teasing the band of your panties. 

“Can you blame me?” He licked his lips, and you nearly laughed. Alarmed at how charmed you were, how attractive he managed to be even this depraved. “Been fuckin’ dreaming about you.” 

“Doing what?” You teased, tilting your head as he breached past your underwear, feeling what was already damp and waiting for him. 

Teasing you right back, sliding two intimidatingly long fingers inside you with embarrassingly little resistance. You were already wet. Why wouldn’t you be?

A ridiculously hot man without any clothes had been flirting with you since you woke up this morning. 

So what if all the other details were just, uh, strange? 

He was staring at you like a piece of meat. Literally? Figuratively? You didn’t know anymore, but your train of thought derailed the second those sturdy digits of his curled. The stretch was delicious, dragging you down into the pit of lust you’d been attempting to claw yourself away from. 

Scissoring you open slowly, taking his time to feel you clench down, his eyes narrowing as he lasered in on your open-mouthed reaction. Rushing to swallow up the needy sounds he drew from your mouth, his tongue sloppy and messy, running over the ridges of your teeth. Your knuckles tight around his leash, lost in the pleasure of his fingers splitting your open and making you see stars before he’d even put his dick in you. 

Which you could already feel pressing firmly into your soft thigh, persistently throbbing in time with your own pussy squeezing down on his knuckles. Shapes and colors blossomed behind your eyes as he found that one special spot in the back, all spongy and sensitive, basically begging for him to poke and prod at it until you were begging him.

Eyes clamping shut, hips arching off as his rough fingertips pinched at your nipple right as he felt around, treating your body like a treasure map, exploring it with desperation to unearth your deepest secrets. Or maybe, just the darkest parts of you. 

What you sounded like when you fell apart. How hard it would be to stitch you back together. 

“T-Toji,” you gasped, struggling to hold it all in. To hide your pleasure when your sanity felt so splintered, but he just chuckled. 

“What? Not Fluffy?” He grunted, and you gritted your teeth.

“You’re the worst,” you groaned, your other hand scrambling to grip the sheets. 

His hair tickled your face, short strands as his mouth made his way south down your throat. Teeth scraping the tendons, doing his best to leave bite marks, canines on your collarbone while his rough voice was etched in your head. 

“Yeah,” Toji grunted. “I am.” 

You almost rebutted with another snide comment, but he hadn’t finished.

“But I’m your problem.” 

Before you could reply, his fingers were pulling back out, still slick and damp as he suddenly flipped you over. 

Onto your hands and knees. Shorts and panties shoved down your thighs. Shirt ripped in his rush to strip you down. 

Still, you refused to drop his leash. 

Holding onto it with an iron grip, even if he groaned, readjusting behind you, the weight of him heavy on your back as his mouth returned to your neck like it belonged there. 

His cock swinging and hitting your ass before he readjusted, positioning himself at your entrance, slipping it in-and-out through your folds before edging it in. Making you whine first, throwing a long look over your shoulder at him. 

Toji’s scar was taut, almost white as his eyes lazily looked over you. Appreciating every line and curve, the lump in his throat bobbing before he locked eyes with you. 

“Well?” You challenged. 

His dick was inside you before you could even arch your brow. 

It was thicker than you expected, felt much fucking bigger when it was actually dragging across your walls, his tip grinding its way in deeper. Making sure you didn't miss even an inch, burying himself to the hilt as his sweaty chest pressed flat against your back. 

Your knees nearly buckled, only supported by his arm snaking around your waist to hold you up. 

He pulled back out slowly, if only to remind you of what it felt like to be empty before driving his dick back in one brutal thrust, your moans mixing together as your body reflexively jolted away from him. 

Toji clicked his tongue to chide you, all deep and taunting, dragging you right back – determined to keep you stuffed full. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

“Says the guy that ran away,” you reminded him, wiggling your hips just enough he had to feel it too. Thighs squeezing as a guttural grunt escaped him. 

“You wanted to cut my balls off,” he scoffed, and just to make a point, his next thrust left you feeling them smacking against you. 

“It's not like I did it.” 

He fucked you like his masculinity had still been wounded. Nursing it better with sex and sweat, inhaling your scent in between his hungry hickies while he shaped you out around him. 

You wrapped the leash around your hand, pulling him closer, arms giving out so your cheek squished against the blankets as he groaned in your ear. Toji was ruthlessly slamming his hips back down, cock splintering you just for his huge hands to hold you together, his forearm still supporting your hips hovering up in the air while his fingers tugged on your hair. 

Hadn't you said you wanted to get laid anyway? 

Wasn't this probably better than whatever Nanami would've offered? Soft, slow sex was nice sometimes. 

But everything about this was heightened, animalistic. Raw. 

Every ridge of him etching itself in you, every moan you earned from him memorized as you held his leash. 

He might've been the one fucking you, the one imprinting your shape into the mattress below, but the power was yours. 

If you asked, you were pretty sure he'd flip you back around and eat you out until your throat was too sore to speak from screaming his name. 

“Toji,” you purred his name, deciding you liked it. Liked him too. Even if he was a freeloader. 

“Yeah?” He grunted, not even pausing his sloppy strokes, pounding into you as your back arched up higher, hips teasingly shifting and squirming in his hold. His next thrust was even harder actually, the force of it making something underneath you crack. 

The bed frame? 

You were too drunk on him to care. Fuzzy with the warmth he provided and still aching for it to burn hotter. 

“Make me cum.”

You thought you heard his breath hitch, but then the arm that was around you moved, his fingers finding your clit faster than you could blink, rubbing mind blowing patterns around it. 

It was impressive, really, on top of irritating that the knowledge it had to be practiced. Not sure if you were fighting a smile or a frown as his damp fingers tantalizingly danced across that sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Not delicate, no, you didn't think a beast like him could ever manage that. 

But it was desperate, following your command and seeking approval in every swirl and circle he drew. 

Pressure building and threatening to crest every time, surging through you like a storm. Matching his intensity, pulling you in with a magnetism you only recognized when it was too late. 

You were wrapped around his finger the same way he was wrapped around yours. 

And when he made you cum, you didn't think any other orgasm you ever had could measure up. All the tides receding for one massive wave of pleasure, your whine of his name muffled into the comforter as you hid your face. Pulling down on his leash so you could feel as much of him on you as possible, his hips, his muscles, his chest. Craving the contact as you climaxed, sucking in mangled inhales that didn't seem to reach your lungs. 

Barely able to lift your head enough to speak, vaguely aware through blurry vision that the whole world was slightly crooked while you started to come down. 

“Good boy.” 

You didn't think a man had ever pulled out of you so fast – but then he was letting out the lewdest moan you ever heard and something wet was splattering across your back. Warm ropes of cum dripping down your skin while he sounded like some B-tier porn star, all gravelly and gruff, stroking his cock as the last of it leaked out. You watched him over your shoulder, holding your breath at the sight of him like this. 

His dark happy trail, the ‘V’ of his hips, how slutty he looked on his knees with nothing but a leash on. 

Could you really keep him?

As a boyfriend, of course? 

You blinked, and then he was getting up. Cock swinging in the air as he walked to your bathroom, snagging a washcloth from under the sink and running water over it before returning to clean you. 

Wiping you down and huffing at where some of his cum had landed on the blankets, making a half-assed attempt at cleaning it up before tossing it on top of the towel you left on the floor last night. 

And then he was just casually plopping back down on your bed, propping his head up with pillows and closing his eyes as you sat up. 

“Come here,” he muttered, patting the spot next to him like you usually did. Holding his arm out to let you know you had a spot there. 

You crawled over to him, tucking yourself against him and staring up at him, still entranced by his features. 

He stroked your hair softly, keeping you cradled there. You reached up and unhooked his leash from the collar. Toji scratched at it, beefy fingers pulling at the leather with another low grunt. 

“You’re paying me back for the pet deposit,” you huffed, glancing around your room. “And a new bed.” 

“Don’t forget about the door,” he grumbled, growling at the memory of the man he almost had to bite last night. 

You let yourself laugh, rolling on top of his chest and propping yourself up on your elbows. Squinting at him and sighing, tracing over his nipple to watch him flinch, his dark brows furrowing. 

“An actual date too,” you added. 

Toji rolled his eyes, but he tugged you up higher, letting out a little sarcastic scoff when you nestled into his neck, his collar pressing against your skin. You’d readjust it for him in a minute, loosen it more, but it was silly to see someone so stocky in it. 

Made him feel like he was still yours. 

“Whatever my master wants.”