𝐋𝐲𝐧𝐧-𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞

— husband ! toji x fat ! female reader

🎱 NOTE : reader is ovulating , usage of dildo , not proofread. This was collecting dust in my draft lmao.

It's the time of the month ... the time where you need to be filled with your husband dick 24/7 at best. The ovulating phase was the worst — like a cat in constant heat. You felt like some hungry demon that needs to be chained to a tree but ..... even the thought of it turned you on. If it wasn't for Toji who's currently at work you would ride him till the sundown where bright stars decorate the dark sky above you two. But no instead you have to wait for him.

Toji immediately knows when you're ovulating .... you react so sensitive to his voice , the rasp and stern tone always did it for you. That man gave you heatwaves through your entire body. You long for his touch , but not once do you mention it or tell toji about your needs to embarrassed to say such dirty things outloud.

Even during non sexual moments between you two there was always something that turned you on about him , toji always wants you to feel vulnerable enough to share what you need or crave at all times. Like him calling you 'babygirl' while watching a movie. Toji made you feel safe in yourself despite the embarrassment you knew he never judges you for anything. You're desperate to feel him, to fill you up and fold you like a bretzel, you need those big and rough hands on your soft curves — and those big veiny forearms has you clenching your thick thighs together.

Your body is yearning for your husband , you need to get dicked down by him in the most passionate way there is..NOW. doesnt matter the position as long as he fills you the way you need to , the bed creaking and loud moans echoing in the room meanwhile Toji claims his wife like the nught on your honeymoon. The neighbors gave up about begging you guys to keep quiet. If you feel risky enough maybe you let him breed you?

The hours and minutes yep you keep count pass and toji wasnt home and your needs havent been met — so There was no way out of this, toji was stuck at work and good god if he only knew how badly you wanted him. You promised Toji to never touch the old box under your bed again.

— the hidden box that your husband absolutely resented because Toji was all about making you feel good with his fingers , tongue and dick it would've been a waste he always says. Ever since then he put all your toys in an old box hidden and collecting dust until now. Youre desperate and in desperate situations bad decisions are made.

You grab the pink dildo out of the box and prayed that this thing does its job well. Your eyes scan the cute pink shaped dildo in your hand. Oh you couldnt wait to finally get your relase and cum , you oh so gently grab the bottle of lube rubbing it on your toy. You add enough lube to jerk off to the pink plastic pretending it's your husband's dick.

You move your hips slowly trying to find the perfect rhythm as you ride your little friend. The dildo sunk into your wet pussy , the tip hitting your sweet spots in all the right way. Youre so lost thinking how Toji would breathe closely into your ear and praise his pretty princess.

The sound of your wet pussy only turn you more on fuck this feels way too good - your eyes are closed in pure pleasure feeling the slick wetness doesnt help. your movements become faster and needier as you feel the buildup of your orgasm with shaking legs you continue to ride this pink plastic like a real slut in heat. You use two of your finger to collect the sweet wetness moving down to your puffy and neglected clit while you're thumb draws small circles

it some random saturday where your friend group decided to go bowling. after you all had gotten tired of gojo's whines since he was losing to geto, you all decided to head out. on your way out though, gojo pointed out the arcade room and bought game cards for everyone before anyone could complain.

among the rigged games, there was a boxing machine where a small punching bag would dangle. someone would then step up and hit the bag as hard as possible, allowing the machine to "measure" the strength of the hit. the current high-score was 920. it was actually sukuna that dragged you over to the machine and told you to give it a shot. he swiped the game card he purchased earlier and leaned on the side of the machine as it let the punching bag dangle, awaiting your hit.

"go on, baby. give it your best shot," sukuna says, the smug look on his face making you want to hit him rather than the machine.

as if he read your mind, gojo pipes up and says, "yeah just pretend the bag is his face, yn!"

you roll your eyes and have half a mind to just give it a half hearted punch just to get it over with. until you get another look at the smirk on sukuna's face. the asshole just wanted you to go first so he could go after and show off. you found that your boyfriend likes to take any opportunity to show his strength. whether it's tightening jars so you would have to ask for his help or doing stupid arm wrestling at the parties when he's had a few too many drinks. just the thought of the ego boost this would give him made your eye twitch.

so you take a stance you remember sukuna showing you when he insisted you learn self-defense. you raise your arm and pivot your body as a practice punch that didn't hit the bag just yet. using that momentum, you land a hook powerful enough to shake the machine as the numbers on the screen shot up before stopping at 999, the max. 

choso and shoko clap in praise from behind you as gojo and toji let out a couple hollers and whistles. the commotion from the impact of your punch caused a couple people to look over and upon seeing the number on the screen, a couple of them clapped a little too.

you look over to sukuna with a smirk, expecting to find nothing but shock only to get irritated when he looked prouder than before. you watched in real time as the idea formed in his head before he cupped one hand around his mouth as his other hand points at you.

"she's my girlfriend!" sukuna calls out, loud as fuck. "she beats the shit outta me!"

as if the commotion from your friends' cheers weren't enough, of course sukuna decides to be an attention seeker. his comment earns some laughs and toji even adds on, "don't worry, he's exactly where he wants to be."

sukuna saunters over to you before pulling you into his chest by your waist. "damn right i am," he tells you with a grin.

you land a soft jab into his side in protest, "if someone calls the cops on me for domestic abuse, i swear ryomen."

In which Toji uses his superhuman strength to get his hands on you

“I won’t ask again, doll. Unlock the door and let me in.”

“No!”

He pounds on the bathroom door. The whole house shakes, so does your skeleton. “Not in the mood for games, woman. You got my dick hard; you’re going to take responsibility, like a big girl.”

What were you thinking spamming him nudes whilst he’s at work? No, the better question is, what was he thinking taking you seriously enough to speed home? Can’t a girl have fun without consequences?

“I was gonna,” you start, practically shaking in the tub as you hold a shampoo bottle, a foolish delusion of protection, “but then you came home early! You weren’t supposed to come home so soon. Ugh, you ruined everything. You know I need at least an hour prep to be in my most seductive mood, Toji!”

You can almost visualise the disbelieving scoff that’d reveal his sharp teeth and make that delectable scar stretch when he bangs on the door again. He’s probably leaning against it, imagining all the ways he could have you bent and pumped full of cum. The thought makes your thighs squeeze tightly even as a nervous, almost manic laugh escapes you. 

The rattling of the walls stops. Silence rings out.

“...You laughing at me?”

Oh fuck. 

You’re done for. That much is clear when he punches a hole in the door barely a second later with a thunderous bang. Huddling on all fours, you brace yourself with a scream as the wood splinters onto the floor. Your poor pussy’s going to feel just like that door when he’s done with you, you’re sure.

You peek up. Toji’s hands grip the wood, ripping a bigger hole in the weak thing. His glinting eyes meet yours. He growls, “Oh, good. You’re already in the right position.”

Screaming bloody murder, you throw the bottle at him, and another and another. They all bounce off his chest as though they weigh nothing. “Fuck off! I take it back. I take it all back!”

“Too fucking late. Shouldn’t play games you’re not ready to lose,” he lectures. In no time at all, he steps through and casts a shadow over your body. The veins on his beefy arms pop, his thighs flex, and his lips curl up — yet, all you’re looking at is the monstrous cock in his pants, painfully hard and somehow bigger than you remember, weighing him down.

“I hate you, you big brute!” you shriek, when he throws you over his shoulder.

He snorts. “Yeah, sure. Pretend you’re not creaming your fucking panties.”

Busted.

“I’m sorry?” you try, a last ditch effort to get your way. “I won’t do it again?”

He throws you on the bed and watches you bounce, licking his lips. “Try again when I’m feeling nice. Maybe I’ll buy your bullshit apologies then.”

Sniffling, you grumble, “And when’s that going to be?”

“Dunno.” Toji lifts one shoulder lazily as his hands grip your knees and shoves your legs apart. “Let’s get to orgasm number eight and go from there.”

A/N- yall there was supposed to be smut in this but it was getting to long i like a build up some times instead of jumping right into it and went a little far lemme know if yall would like the sumt part :)

And do you want to be tagged if I put it out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imani lay sprawled across her bed on her stomach, her bare legs kicking lazily in the air behind her. The soft pink satin nightdress she wore barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, riding higher every time she shifted against the comforter. Her bedroom smelled faintly like vanilla and coconut oil from the candle burning on her nightstand, the dim lamp casting a warm glow across the glossy magazine spread open in front of her.

But she wasn’t reading a single word.

She flipped through the pages mindlessly, eyes unfocused as the long cord of her landline wrapped around her fingers.

“But you said you was coming over after I got off from school,” she whined softly into the phone, her bottom lip pushing out into a pout. “This my only free time this week, Rio.”

On the other end, Rio sighed heavily. She could picture him rubbing his hand over his face like he always did whenever he was stressed.

“I know, mama,” he said, his voice low and tired. “But work got crazy. You understand that, right? I’ma come see you next time you free.”

Imani’s face fell immediately.

“No,” she said quietly, sitting up straighter. “You keep sayin’ that, Rio. You said that the other time too.”

The silence that followed made her chest tighten painfully.

Things between them had been different ever since she started medical school. At first, she told herself it was normal. They were growing up. Life got busy. Responsibilities changed.

But Rio used to make time for her.

No matter what.

Back in high school he would pull up outside her house at midnight just because she said she missed him. He used to wait outside her classes, bring her food, kiss her forehead like she was something precious. Like seeing her was the easiest decision in the world.

Now every conversation felt rushed. Every plan got canceled.

Every excuse sounded rehearsed.

“Am I not important enough?” she asked before she could stop herself.

The second the words left her mouth, tears burned her eyes.

Rio cursed softly under his breath. “Imani—”

But she hung up before he could finish.

The loud click echoed through her room.

For a moment she just sat there staring at the receiver in her hand before her breathing hitched. Then the tears came all at once.

She buried her face into her palm.

“I must not be that important to him for real,” she whispered shakily.

Her chest ached so badly it almost embarrassed her. She hated crying over anybody, especially a man, but Rio had rooted himself so deeply into her life that the thought of losing him felt suffocating.

Imani crawled backward until her back hit the headboard, pulling her knees to her chest. Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she rested her chin against her knees.

She missed him.

Not just hearing from him. Not just the quick calls or rushed check-ins.

She missed him.

His arms around her waist while she studied. His voice in her ear distracting her on purpose. The way he’d pull her into his lap like he couldn’t stand having her too far away.

Now it felt like he was avoiding her.

On purpose.

Her jaw tightened at the thought.

The phone rang again almost immediately.

Imani rolled her eyes through her tears.

“Ugh.”

Only one person would be calling back this fast.

She wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand roughly, trying to pull herself together.

“Toughen up, bitch. Fuck him,” she muttered to herself, though another tear slipped down right after it.

She let out a humorless laugh.

At this rate she already knew she was about to cry herself into the best sleep of her life.

“You better than this, Imani,” she whispered, shaking her head as she tried to give herself a pep talk.

But the ache in her chest wouldn’t leave.

Instead of answering Rio’s call, she grabbed her cellphone off the nightstand and dialed Brianna before she could change her mind. Because if she sat there thinking too long, she’d end up calling Rio back and apologizing for being upset.

And she refused to do that.

The phone clicked.

“Hello?”

“Bri… I’m not crazy, right?” Imani asked immediately, voice cracking.

Brianna snorted. “Girl, confused bad. Start from the beginning.”

Imani pushed herself off the bed and started pacing her room, one hand dragging through her freshly silk-pressed hair.

“He said he was comin’ over today ‘cause I finally got free time, then canceled again. And I just…” She swallowed hard. “I feel like he avoidin’ me or somethin’.”

She paced harder, wearing a path into the carpet.

“He keep saying work, work, work. But why it feel like he don’t even wanna see me no more?”

Brianna was quiet for a second before asking carefully, “Wait… y’all still together?”

Imani stopped pacing.

“…Yes?”

Brianna sounded genuinely shocked. “Girl, the way you been cryin’ these past two weeks I thought y’all broke up already. Especially with your brother and parents hatin’ him.”

Imani frowned instantly.

“Okay, but that’s not the point, Bri.”

“Mm-hm.”

“The point is I feel like he’s doing this on purpose.” Her voice cracked again. “Why not just tell me straight up? Like, ‘Hey, I don’t wanna be with you no more.’ Why keep dragging it out?”

The thought alone made her stomach twist violently.

Rio saying he didn’t love her anymore would destroy her.

And she hated that he had that kind of power over her.

“Babe,” Brianna said softly, “that man does not hate you. He probably really is busy—”

“Ugh!” Imani groaned dramatically. “I did not call you to be on his side, Bri!”

Brianna laughed.

“I’m serious! Just tell me I’m right before I get some horrible wake-up call and he breaks up with me for real.” Her voice dropped quieter. “And honestly? That would kill me.”

She sat back down on the edge of the bed, exhaustion finally settling into her bones. Her fingers smoothed nervously over her silk press as fresh tears welled in her eyes again.

Imani closed her eyes tightly.

“Aww, M no,” Brianna said gently. “Rio loves you. That man is crazy about you.”

Then why did it feel like he was slipping away from her?

“Okay, not the advice I need right now but—”

Imani stopped mid-sentence at the sharp tap against her bay window.

Her brows furrowed.

Another tap sounded louder this time, like a pebble bouncing against the glass.

“What the hell?” she muttered, instantly getting to her feet.

Her bedroom lights flicked on as she hurried toward the window, her heart jumping nervously in her chest. For a split second she thought maybe it was her brother trying to scare her again.

Then another tiny rock hit the glass.

Imani pulled apart the pink polka-dot curtains with a frown, peering down the side of the house.

And froze.

“Rio?” she whispered to herself.

Down below, dressed head to toe in black like always, Rio looked up at her from beside the flower bushes. The porchlight caught the sharp lines of his face and the fresh ink covering more of his arms than she remembered. Black shirt. Loose black jeans. Boots.

He looked tired.

But he was there.

The sight alone made her stomach flip traitorously.

Rio lifted his head slightly. “Hey, mama,” he stage-whispered loudly. “Keep the window open. I’ma come up.”

Imani rolled her eyes instantly despite the warmth spreading through her chest.

“Are you crazy?” she whisper-yelled back. “I don’t wanna see you anymore, Rio. I thought work was takin’ up all your time.”

She was lying terribly.

Her heart was practically doing gymnastics at the sight of him standing outside her house like some reckless teenage boy.

Rio sucked his teeth.

“Mmcht, mama, keep the window open.”

Before she could argue again, he grabbed onto the wooden trellis attached to the side of the house, the thick vines twisting around it creating the perfect ladder.

Imani’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God,” she hissed. “Please don’t fall. And if you do, I’m not helpin’ you.”

Rio smirked up at her before continuing to climb.

Trying to ignore how stupidly happy she suddenly felt, Imani walked back toward her bed and picked her phone back up.

“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” she said dramatically, “thank you for telling me that. And his ass is in fact insane.”

Brianna burst out laughing on the other end.

“You gon’ be alright,” Brianna teased. “Bye, love you.”

“Love yo—”

The phone disappeared from Imani’s hand so fast she gasped.

She turned around sharply looking up.

Rio stood over her beside the bed, slightly out of breath from climbing through the window. His large frame practically blocked the light above her as he looked down at the phone in his hand.

“Who is this?” he asked into the receiver.

Imani stared up at him through her lashes for a second before she could stop herself.

God.

He looked unfairly good hovering over her like that.

Black shirt stretched across his chest. Loose black jeans hanging low on his hips. Boots still on. Fresh tattoos inked across his hands and creeping up the sides of his neck.

“Well she love you too, Brianna. Bye.”

He hung up before Brianna could answer and tossed the phone carelessly onto the bed beside her.

His hand slid down, gripping her thigh gently as he dragged her closer to him

Imani slapped his hand away immediately “Don’t touch me,”

“This my shit, come here.”

Before Imani could move away, both of Rio’s hands slid beneath her thighs, lifting her effortlessly off the bed.

“Rio—”

She barely got his name out before he pulled her against him, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he turned and sat down on the edge of her bed with her in his lap.

Imani immediately pushed at his chest.

“I’m serious,” she snapped.

One of his hands had already slipped under the hem of her nightdress, gripping the soft flesh of her ass possessively like he belonged there.

“If you came over here just to get your dick wet, you can go,” she said sharply, pointing a finger in his face while trying to pry his hands off her so she could stand.

Rio stared at her for a second like she’d genuinely offended him.

“What?” he asked, almost amused. “Mani, I came over here to see you, baby. How you pushing me off?”

Imani purposely looked everywhere except at him.

At the tattoos on his neck.

At the chain around his throat.

At the strong hands still holding onto her thighs like he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon.

Anywhere but his eyes.

Because if she looked at him too long, she was gonna fold.

“I’m pushing you off because you keep lying to me,” she muttered, voice tight.

Rio’s expression faded slightly.

“And all it took was me crying for you to finally come over,” she continued, trying to keep her composure together. “Like… that really hurts my feelings, Rio.”

Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

Embarrassed immediately, Imani turned her face away and wiped quickly under her eyes before the tears could fully fall.

But Rio noticed anyway.

Of course he did.

His grip on her thighs loosened instantly.

“Hey,” he said quieter now.

Imani shook her head.

“No, because I feel stupid.” She laughed shakily, avoiding his gaze. “I’m’ here waiting around for you all the time and you keep making me feel like I’m asking’ for too much just because I wanna see my man.”

“You not asking for too much.”

“Yes I am,” she snapped emotionally. “Cause if I wasn’t, you would actually make time for me.”

Silence filled the room.

The only sound was her uneven breathing and the faint noise from the TV downstairs.

Rio looked at her for a long moment before reaching up carefully, brushing his thumb underneath her eye.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Rio said quietly, his voice softer than it had been all night. “I’ll make time for you. I’m serious.”

Imani sniffled, eyes glossy as she stared down at the chain resting against his chest instead of looking at him directly.

“Any time you call, I’ma come over,” he continued. “Any time you wanna go somewhere, I’ll come. Stop cryin’, mama.”

His hand slid up gently, fingers curling around her chin as he turned her face back toward him.

Imani’s lashes fluttered.

“Don’t say that if you know you can’t, Rio,” she whispered thickly, fresh emotion creeping into her voice.

Rio shook his head immediately.

“Nah, I’m serious.” His thumb brushed beneath her eye again, wiping away another tear before it could fall. “And if I flake out or some shit again… you can be done with me.”

Meanwhile he already knew there was no universe where he’d actually leave Imani alone.

Not after all these years.

Not when she looked at him like that.

“Ew,” Imani said instantly, finally smiling a little through her tears. “Don’t say that.”

Rio smirked faintly at the sight of her softening.

“There she go,” he murmured.

He wiped the rest of her tears carefully while she wrapped her arms around his neck, settling closer against him without even realizing it.

Rio raised an eyebrow. “What happened? Thought you was done with me.”

Imani rolled her eyes dramatically before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss against his lips.

“I was playing,” she mumbled against his mouth.

Rio huffed out a laugh, one hand rubbing slowly up her thigh beneath the satin fabric.

“Yeah, aight,” he teased softly. “You was cryin’ real hard for somebody done with me.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, hiding her face against his shoulder while he grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

megumi fushiguro doesn’t talk about his childhood much, but when he does, it’s always about you.

the two of you met when you were six. you were the loud new neighbor who climbed the fence between your houses and offered him half of your strawberry pocky. he was the quiet boy with messy dark hair who stared at you like you were an alien. he took the pocky anyway. from then on, you were inseparable.

you were the one who dragged him to the park after school, even when he insisted he wanted to read. you’d push him on the swings until he cracked the tiniest smile. he was the one who quietly held your hand when you were scared of the thunder, never making fun of you for it. he’d let you sleep over during storms, sharing his bed while you clutched his sleeve.

“you’re not scared, right?” you’d whisper.

“no,” he’d lie, even though his heart was racing.

there was the summer you both tried to catch fireflies in jars. you laughed so hard you tripped and scraped your knee. megumi, only eight years old, looked like the world was ending. he ran inside and came back with bandages, carefully placing one over your knee with clumsy fingers.

“don’t cry,” he mumbled, his ears red. “i’ll protect you next time.”

you still have that same bandage box at home, the one with little cartoon dogs on it.

years later, you’re both older now. megumi is taller, quieter, more guarded. but sometimes, when the light hits him just right, you still see that same little boy who shared his pocky with you.

one quiet evening, you’re sitting on the rooftop of the dorms together, legs dangling over the edge. the city lights sparkle below like fireflies.

“remember when we tried to run away?” you ask, smiling.

megumi huffs a small laugh. “you packed three bags of candy and one pair of socks. we made it two blocks before gojo found us.”

you lean your head on his shoulder. “you were going to protect me from everything back then.”

he stays silent for a moment. then his hand finds yours, fingers threading together the same way they did when you were kids hiding from thunder.

“i still want to,” he says quietly. “protect you. even if i’m not very good at saying it.”

your heart feels too big for your chest. you squeeze his hand.

“you’ve always been good at it, megumi. even when you were just a shy little boy who didn’t know how to smile.”

he doesn’t reply, but the way he leans his head against yours says everything.

the city lights blur below you, but up here, it’s just the two of you—the same two kids who once shared pocky and promised to face the world together.

some things never change.