vashiguro

[vashiguro]

give me tough love— toji fushiguro x fem reader

you always seem to bring out the worst in toji.

𓆩⟡𓆪 tags fem!reader meandom!toji toxic relationship established relationship unsafe sex degradation namecalling dacryphilia use of handcuffs breeding size kink size difference

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count 4.7k

𓆩⟡𓆪 author's notes hello yes this has been published on ao3 so do not accuse me of stealing lmao this is my work i just have decided to migrate onto tumblr a bit

toji’s big. he’s always known he was big— big in all senses of the word.

six foot three in high school, now six foot six as an adult, he can never find the right pants in a regular department store that cover his ankles or match his waist; it’s always one or the other. shirts never fit his chest or arms and shoes are an even bigger hassle.

big hands, big feet, a big fucking cock.

he’s never been one of those people that exaggerates his size in an attempt to show off because he’s never had to. when engaging in the teenage boy act of comparing penis sizes, he could proudly boast his own size and whip it out for proof if it came to it (not that he ever did). no because toji is big, and even on the laundry list of things he’s lied about in his life, his cock has never been one of them.

he’s never measured himself— his ego’s big enough as it is— but if he had to put a number to it, he’d say he’s a solid eight inches when erect.

and toji loves how fucking big he is compared to you.

he loves how he can pin you with just one hand, whether it be squeezing your thighs together, pinning your hips down, trapping your wrists above your head. he gets off on watching you squirm and try to push him off, your hands clawing at his arm as you whine about how mean he is.

he’s not denying it, no, he is an asshole. toji loves using his power, his dominance, over you, especially when he’s pistoning into you, dangling your release right over your pretty little head. it’s just out of reach and he finds it absolutely precious to watch you try and form a coherent sentence from the babbles falling from your lips.

but he hasn’t done that to you in a hot minute now.

the two of you have been arguing nonstop for the past week now. neither of you remember how it started because, when that topic is even alluded to, you argue over it too; neither of you can take it. toji claims it’s because you’ve been being a bitch lately and you say it’s because you’re fed up with the way he bullies you.

you go to work, you come home, but you keep your distance from toji, not giving him so much as a glance when he enters whatever room you’re in because both of you know, snarky remarks will be exchanged and bombs will be dropped.

and when you guys argue, there’s absolutely no middle ground. toji’s hard headedness coupled with your stubbornness continues to add fuel to the fire. it’s almost exhausting because neither one of you will admit that you’re wrong and neither of you are willing to negotiate. 

so you’re ignoring him and you have been for the past 24 hours. no arguing, no yelling, nothing. just cold silent treatment. toji thinks it's childish, the way you're sulking about and pouting like a damn child.

you don’t even come to bed tonight which really pisses toji off. he didn’t think you had the nerve to do something like that, to show him up like that, but when the clock strikes midnight and you still aren’t in bed, he realizes how serious you’re taking this shit.

truth be told, this isn’t your guys’ worst argument. more than once you’ve left to stay with a friend or your parents because you just couldn’t handle being in toji’s presence without lashing out, so to him, this is child’s play. he isn’t taking it nearly as seriously as you are. he’s simply playing along to entertain your pettiness because you’re pretty fucking mad at him.

but he’s getting tired of it. you haven’t tried anything bratty with him, haven’t touched him in a week, and he’s itching in his own skin at the feeling of being so sexually frustrated. he can’t even jack off because he doesn’t want to look like a pussy to you. he doesn’t want to see how bad you’re messing with him by actually standing up for yourself.

but when you don’t come to bed, it’s not just because you’re mad at toji; it’s because you’re out. you snuck out and he didn’t even realize it. he doesn’t realize until he actually leaves the bedroom and notices your purse is missing and you aren’t on the couch.

oh, you have fucking done it now.

the closest thing to toji, he doesn’t know what the hell it was, is picked up and chucked against the wall. you had the audacity, the absolute nerve, to ignore him and go wherever the hell you felt like just because you were mad at him? and at this time of night? he’s less worried about the threats that lurk in the night and more concerned about where you are.

nearing one in the morning, the only possible places you can be are the club or the bar.

and either option pisses toji off. he can only imagine what you’re wearing. something revealing, something tight, something showing off all your assets that should be reserved for his eyes only. you’d be all dolled up and he’s not even there to see it. some perv is looking at you, thinking about taking you home for the night, and it makes him livid.

he considers calling you, considers lashing out at you over the phone and berating you for disobeying him like you did, but that would prevent you from coming home and that’s the last thing he wants.

because, right now, he wants nothing more than to put you in your place.

toji leans against the kitchen counter, his head bowed low and his eyes shut. his arms and chest are heavily striated due to how hard he’s gripping the counter, and if it weren’t granite, the countertop probably could've snapped from the pressure. he’s genuinely rocking back and forth, running solely on adrenaline and pure anger.

toji’s never put his hands on you, he’s never even entertained that idea, but right now, he’d do anything to put you in your place.

he can hear your keys jingle on the other side of the door. he never liked how much shit you have hanging from your keychain; all those random plush animals and souvenir-type shit he found unnecessary. he can hear the keys fall, you swear under your breath, and the lock jiggle as you attempt to find the key to the front door.

toji can only hope it’s because it’s dark and not because you’re inebriated. 

he’s moving across the apartment to meet you and you’re not even halfway through the door before toji’s slamming it shut and cornering you against the wall, your eyes only inches away from his bare chest. you let out a gasp of surprise and clutch your purse against your stomach.

toji’s eyes sweep over your body and his intuition was correct. although your mouth doesn’t smell like alcohol, you carry the scent in your hair and on your dress. and that dress was fucking skin tight; you look like you can barely breathe. it’s black and strapless and your tits are practically spilling out of the top. he’s never seen it before and, frankly, he could care less where you got it at this point because he’s only moments away from ripping it off your body.

“where the fuck were ya?” he growls, his tone leaving no room for any funny business from you. “huh? ya really have some fuckin’ nerve, sneakin’ out dressed like that, girl.”

you let out a scoff, but toji hits the door above your head harshly with his hand, immediately removing any ideas of retaliation in your head. to be fair, he was asleep and he’s a heavy sleeper. you didn’t drink for a reason; it’d be difficult to explain why you’re hungover in the morning if you had gotten away with it.

“dressed like what?” 

“like a slut,” he spits. “you’re dressed like a two dollar whore and ya smell like liquor, so where the fuck were ya? and don’t ya dare lie to me right now.”

you grit your teeth at his harsh words. toji’s not nice, especially when he’s angry, but he’s never called you a slut or a whore unless he was fucking you. in an attempt to look away, toji grabs your face with his hand, harshly squeezing your cheeks and pulling you towards him. it’s dark and the rest of the apartment is shrouded in darkness behind him, but you can see his face clearly now and the rage is undeniably there.

“look at me when i’m talking to ya. answer my question.”

you swallow your pride and blink up at him, trying to muster up any last remorse you can from him before he snaps. “i was at a club.”

toji laughs to himself, but there’s nothing funny about that. he’s squeezing your face a little too hard to the point that it’s uncomfortable, but you don’t dare to give him lip right now.

“ya snuck out and went to a club dressed like this?” he reaches behind you and grabs your ass, eliciting a sharp inhale from you. “and what was your goal, huh? did ya get the googly eyes ya wanted? did ya plan on fuckin’ the first guy that looked at ya?”

“sorry” is all you can get out.

“sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time.”

in one swift motion, he lugs you over his shoulder, gripping the underside of your thighs. you drop your bag in the process as you attempt to claw at his back and squirm. you kick your legs, but your dress is hiked up and he uses the opportunity to plant a harsh slap to your ass which makes you yelp.

it stings, but knowing him, this might be the most mild punishment he could’ve given you, so you don’t open your mouth.

“don’t try nothin’ silly with me right now,” he warns, “or i swear to ya, ‘m gonna make ya fuckin’ regret it.”

in an instant, you’re in your bedroom and you’re tossed onto the bed like you weigh nothing. the sheets are disheveled from toji’s restless sleep while your side remains perfectly made, an unpleasant reminder of why you’re in this situation.

“i’ve tried to make amends with ya, baby, i really did—” he leans over and grabs your dress from either side— “but you’ve really done it today.”

you didn’t think he’d be able to do it, but he tears your right off your body. the sound of it ripping is mocking, a fat middle finger in the face from toji since you dared to disrespect him like you did.

you’re vulnerable before him, only your panties blocking his eyes from what he really wants, but that flimsy piece of fabric is not enough to hide everything. he squats down at the foot of the bed and parts your thighs, revealing your inner thighs. it’s humiliating, like you’re being spayed by his eyes alone, and the cool air from the overhead fan doesn’t help.

it’s condescending, those green eyes. “you’re a fuckin’ whore. you’re wet from this? or did some other man get ya worked up, huh?”

he runs a finger over your clothed slit, grazing over your engorged clit, making you whimper. you too have felt the repercussions of this argument; you’ve never been so pent up in your life. you easily could’ve masturbated, but in your true, stubborn nature, you had no intention of giving toji that satisfaction.

“n-no,” you stammer. you attempt to shut your thighs, but his grip on them is iron tight. “not another man.”

“so i got ya wet from beratin’ ya?” he sounds surprised, but the look on his face shows that he’s pleased with himself. “god, you’re fuckin’ pathetic.”

you can feel your throat sting, a precursor to waterworks. you don’t know why it’s upset you, toji’s always mean before sex, but coupled with sexual frustration, it’s enough to make you emotional.

“it’s not,” you mutter. “i can’t help it.”

“ya can’t help it?” toji mocks, his voice low and patronizing. “you were gonna get fucked tonight whether it was on my cock or somebody else’s, weren’t ya?”

that’s not true, but you can’t tell him that. you can’t tell him that maybe you would’ve teased some drunk sleaze and let him touch you, but you wouldn’t let him fuck you. but toji doesn’t think that’s true and the last thing you want to do is tell toji he’s wrong.

a pitiful whimper leaves your lips. you’re not saying anything, so in toji’s mind, he’s right. and you’re in no position to test him.

once more, he’s destroying your clothing. the light pink panties you wear, a personal favorite of his, were the ones he first fucked you in in the back of your car. even back then he was close to ripping them up; he merely pushed them to the side to slip his cock in. but this time he rips them clean in half, tossing the remnants atop the disfigured dress on the floor.

“answer me, whore,” he snaps. he raises his hand and lands a heavy hit on the inside of your thigh, making you wince. “were ya tryin’ to get fucked tonight? were ya really that desperate?”

you frantically shake your head. a tease! you were trying to be a tease if anything! he slaps the inside of your thigh again, this one more harsh than the former. it stings and you can almost feel the imprint of his hand engraved into your thighs from those two hits alone.

“‘m sorry, toji,” you mewl as you watch him rise to his feet.

“and what’d i say? sorry ain’t gonna cut it.”

you watch as his hand disappears into his nightstand and you feel your stomach tighten. the sound of metal on metal doesn’t help, and when he pulls out those handcuffs, you know you fucked up.

and it’s not the fuzzy ones from some sex shop. toji got these when he himself chose to run away from an officer (you're still unsure how he slipped out of them). they’re a little janky because of it, but they hurt. he only ever whips them out when he’s pissed because he knows that they hurt you. they dig into your skin and bruise them, causing your wrists to ache for days after, especially because he tightens them so much.

he grabs both your wrists in one hand and tugs you towards him. “no, toj, please.”

“shuddup.” he seals your fate by locking them tightly around your wrist and tossing the key back into his nightstand. “i’m fed up with your shit.”

the bed creaks as he climbs onto it. settling in his spot, he lies down, his back propped up against the headboard. he grabs the chain that holds your cuffs together and pulls you towards him. you can’t help but wince as the serrated insides dig into your wrist.

“get on,” he tells you. “you’re ridin’ me ‘til i tell ya to stop.”

your cheeks flush and your heart drops. toji knows how much you hate riding him. he’s too big for you and he knows that. you can barely take him in missionary or mating press, and on top, he’s constantly bumping against your cervix and there’s nowhere for you to move but right back down on it.

“toji.”

“quit bitchin’ and get on my cock.”

with no room left for argument, you fumble with the waistband of his sweatpants and push them down his thighs. you swallow hard at the sight of his print against his boxers and you’re careful when exposing him. toji holds it up with his left hand and uses his right to pull you over his thighs.

“i don’t got all day, doll,” he grumbles. “let’s go.”

he holds your bound wrists against his stomach and watches keenly as your slick pussy hovers over his angry tip. slowly but surely, you lower yourself onto him, whining as it stretches you out. usually, he’s already fingered you and you’re somewhat prepared to take him, so you forgot how much it initially hurts.

toji, on the other hand, can’t help but chew on his bottom lip to contain his own pleasure. it feels like heaven, the initial tightness. that feeling compares to nothing; not his hand, not a sex toy, could fucking replace it.

“ah, fuck,” he grumbles. "shit. ya feel like a damn virgin."

it’s so fucking hard for toji to stay mad at you when you look so fucking precious riding his cock. the way your tits bounce, the way you whine and whimper, your pretty face scrunched up from breathing heavy.

you noticed when pulling down his pants that he hadn’t shaved (awesome). each time you move back down on his cock, you’re grazed by the coarse hairs surrounding the base and it makes you wince. toji doesn’t have a preference for whether you’re shaved or not (what kind of man would he be if he was scared away by a little hair?), but shaving is the one thing you usually ask of him.

not that you’re in any position to tell him what to do right now.

he kneads your ass with his hand, his way of encouraging you to grind further down on him. “you’re so good at ridin’ me. my cock was made for ya, wasn’t it, brat?”

“uh-huh,” you huff breathlessly. “it was.”

toji’s tip bumping against your cervix makes your head spin. before him, you couldn’t fathom the idea of getting off on vaginal sex alone. your previous partners were good, but they never had the confidence (or the size) of toji, and you only ever finished when they went down on you.

“such a dirty whore,” he coos. “so good at keepin’ my cock warm.”

he pulls down on your cuffs, breaking your posture slightly. toji grabs the back of your neck and brings your face down to his, pressing his mouth against yours. his tongue demands submission from yours and every noise is swallowed by him. your moans and whimpers serve as fuel to him; they encourage him to make you feel good. and the feel of that jagged scar adorning his lips is something that’ll never get old to you.

toji’s hands move to your inner thighs, gripping the muscles as they flex and relax with each motion. he loves watching you work for him. your legs burn and you’re shiny with sweat, and he can see you’re exhausted.

“toj,” you breathe. “‘m tired.”

toji lets out a low laugh and shakes his head. “ya think i’m gonna let ya get off that easily?”

he was. he was moments away from cumming, but he will only cum if he’s the one in control, when you’re flat on your back and he can see every ounce of him that cascades down your tummy and onto the bed. he loves painting your skin white and watching every bit of it settle on your soft skin.

god, he’s gonna get you pregnant.

“please, toji,” you beg, your eyes shiny with tears. “‘m sorry for being- being a brat. please- need t’stop.”

toji’s mean, he’s not evil. your pleas make him feel infinitesimally guilty and those fat tears welling in your eyes make him sigh and roll his own.

“you’re pathetic, ain't ya?”

in a moment, he’s grabbing you by your hips and flipping you over, pressing you flat against the bed. though teetering on his own pleasure, he pulls out of you, hissing as your walls tighten against him.

toji traps your arms above your head while he pulls your labia apart, his eyes falling on your cute little clit. even in the midst of turmoil, you’re still toji’s needy little girlfriend. and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he ignored your needs?

his fingers dip into the warmth of his mouth before he reaches between your legs, applying gentle pressure to your clit. toji nestles his face into your neck as your silence is replaced by quiet whimpers.

he’s breathing near your ear and you can feel the kitten licks on the curve of your neck as his mouth latches onto you. the pressure from your cuffs, the pleasure from him toying with your clit, the pain from the formation of the hickeys, it’s all starting to become a little too much.

“ya really pissed me off today,” toji hums, his teeth grazing your skin. “didn’t think ya had it in ya t’disobey me.”

he presses your clit in between the pads of his fingers, making your body jolt. “to go out like that, dressed like a tramp? i mean, what if my family saw ya? saw my girlfriend wanderin’ the streets, lookin’ like a cheap slut.”

you let out a shaky sob as he pinches your clit again, only to soothe it with gentle circles. “you— you were ignoring me all day, toji. ‘m sorry. you were being so— so mean.”

toji huffs into your neck before pulling away. he looks down, his green eyes laden with indistinguishable emotion. he’s quickly moving down on you, his tongue licking every bead of sweat that cascades down your glistening body. your inner thighs match the rest of your body, wet and eager.

he hooks his arms beneath your thighs and latches onto your clit, sending a ripple through your body. it’s mind-numbing the way he uses his tongue. whether it’s flat and broad, or pointed and precise, you’re convinced he was blessed with his mouth solely to pleasure you.

“i’m mean because i need to keep ya in your place.” he’s almost too big to fit between your legs, but he makes it work by tossing your legs over his shoulders. “not callin’ no whore my girlfriend.”

his tongue glides between your slick lips before your poor slit is ravaged by his tongue. his thumbs are long enough to reach your clit and with alternating strokes between the left, right, and his tongue, you’re already on the precipice of the end.

“toji!” you whine as your wrists strain against your cuffs. “i won’t do it again! p-promise! i— agh, didn’t mean to, ‘m sorry!”

toji’s satisfaction is present as he looks up between your legs. with his eyebrows furrowed and the ghost of a grin on his arousal-coated lips, he’s got you where he wanted. it’s always delightful to put you in your place when you’re being a brat.

he’s pulling your clit in between his teeth, making you sob. his canines are so sharp and your bud is just so precious, but so tainted by toji’s malevolence. he knows he’s being cruel, but it’s all to make sure you never, ever try to leave him.

you’d be dead before you could even think about walking away.

toji’s not giving in- he’s pussy drunk. you’re melting on his tongue like a sweet piece of candy, something someone like him doesn’t deserve. watching and hearing you squirm when he’s barely putting any effort in holding you down just reminds him how delicate you are compared to him.

“toji, i’m g’na cum, toji,” you sob, your face ridden with tears. “‘hurts, toji. ah— hurts so- so good, toji.”

you’re aching from his tongue alone. you can’t fathom him putting his cock back in you, not when you’re already broken down like this. his nose is bumping against your clit and he sounds so fucking hot panting into your pussy. 

the slight sound of you squirting is enough for toji to orgasm right then and there. your body contorts and your back arches as your legs violently shake against his head, threatening to squeeze it. toji’s welcoming it, encouraging it, as his mouth enshrouds your urethra, allowing every drop to collect on his tongue.

it’s sweet, almost. so fucking sweet, just like you.

you’re still sobbing, your poor body already wracked from orgasming. but toji’s not done with you when he’s licking his lips and crawling up the bed like a predator. he dips down and licks those salty tears straight off your face, only making you cry even more.

“don’t cry yet, baby,” he croons, gently biting your cheek. “i ain’t even done with ya.”

toji encapsulates your wrists in his hands and presses his piquant mouth onto your quivering lips, a mere distraction from him pushing all the way into you. you’re immediately filled up to the hilt with that single motion, an intoxicating yet agonizing feeling. your cries are swallowed by his mouth, only to be overridden by his own moans of pleasure.

“fuck, baby. can’t stay mad at ya, not with this pretty lil’ pussy.”

your poor spongy walls clench desperately, still not accommodated to his size after all these years. he’s colliding with your insides with every stroke, relentlessly bullying the makeup of your body. it’s such an intoxicating feeling.

“always takin’ me so deep, doll. prettiest pussy i’ve ever fucked. so fuckin’ cute, y’know that?”

heavy balls collide with your underside, coupled with the sound of your pussy squelching and your sweaty skin briefly coming together with every thrust. toji’s molding your walls, only preparing you for what’s to come.

toji descends back on your lips with hot, wet kisses, practically slobbering over the entirety of your mouth. he’s emptying desperate moans down your throat while his thick fingers dig into your throbbing wrists, and for once, he feels pathetic. he’s never felt this needy for you before, never felt such a carnal desire to make sure everybody knows you belong to him, but when he saw you in that dress, he knew that simply lavishing your neck with purple bruises wouldn’t be enough.

he had to make a mark, a permanent one.

he’s always pulled out before, always respected your wishes to not risk it, but he’s had enough and tonight was the final straw.

“‘m g’na come in ya, baby. g’na make ya a mama, huh?”

choked sobs fall from your lips at his words. you have the financial capability to raise a child, but the mental capability? you’ve never seriously thought about it unless you missed a period or toji pulled out a little too late. you’ve always been told you’d make a wonderful mom, but hasn’t everybody heard that once or twice?

“toj,” you hiccup, your weak body just barely squirming against toji’s force. “you— you can’t say that. ‘s not funny.”

“not tryna be funny, doll.” each slap of skin on yours and puncturing stroke against your cervix brings toji closer to release. “y’hear ya pussy squelchin’ like that? poor thing practically beggin’ f’me to nut in her.”

it’s harmoniously taunting. you can feel your walls tighten against toji’s thickening cock, and as the pistoning only becomes more feverish, the end is near and the only possible finish is your inevitable pregnancy.

“jus’ imagine, baby. your tits swelled with milk, all puffy with my kid growing inside ya.” toji’s grip tightens on your wrists, practically welding the metal into your skin. “god, i’d never keep my hands off ya. can ya imagine that?”

you shut your eyes as tears dribble down your face, but you nod. you nod because you can’t help but imagine that, toji as a father. toji may not be the kindest person in the world, but when the two of you are in public together and a child is presence, there is an undeniable softness in his eyes that you notice. he’d never hone on something unless he wanted it badly.

“i know, toj,” you hiccup. “i love you, toj. love you— ahh, so bad. ‘m gonna cum— hah.”

“fuck, baby. shit, fuck, fuck— g’na cum, baby. wanna get ya pregnant so bad. need t’get ya pregnant, mama.”

toji’s strokes stutter and as he wraps a thick arm around your sweaty body, you can feel his cock twitch before your lower belly fills with warmth. it feels like gallons of his cum is being emptied into you, all ready to fertilize one single egg, and it’s almost a majestic feeling. as you hit your high once more, drenching the base of toji’s cock, he soothes your shaking body as he gently strokes your head.

you’re completely numb, but feeling completely euphoric. the feeling of toji’s arms around you is comforting. it’s knowing that it’s not a one time thing, that he wants to, needs to, stay by your side. you can barely breathe under the weight of his body as the both of your breaths intermingle.

“i love ya, sweet girl, so fuckin’ much.”