Piscesatthesea - *°☆•°

Effeminate dentist: You need to brush more on your gums-- hold on why am I "effeminate?" What? I'm literally just a normal dentist. A masculine one, even.

Me: (struggling to speak through the dentist's fingers) youw weren't shupposhed to shee that

Dad Levi / “Dadvi” Headcanons (1/?)

The best partner to have for those random midnight crying fits - uncontested. He is, more than likely, already awake anyways and is always the first to hear them stir.

When rolling out of bed, sometimes whispers “little brat” under his breath - but with a pitiful tone, not one of annoyance. It’s the closest he gets to “poor thing”.

A secret goal of his: he hopes to take care of them before/without you waking up.

Has a naturally keen ear for what they need. Based on their cries and wails, he can tell if they’re hungry, need a change, whatever.

Really, he never gets angry with their crying. The upset he feels is just sorrow for them. It’s that fatherly instinct.

In an odd way, it often gives him a pained smile. This cute little thing is just a little hungry, just a little fussy, and has no idea how bad things can be - he’s determined to make sure they don’t find out.

// // //

Always knows just how to coo them. Innately understands when they need cuddles, swaddles, bounces, a nap.

“Hey. They need a nap. I’m going to put them down, alright?”

A cool, low, calm voice is perfect for lullabies. However, more often than not, he falls asleep with them. With the baby’s consistent need for sleep and his spontaneous schedule, they regularly take naps together even just on accident.

Reclining on the sofa, he keeps the baby laid across his front: heartbeats meeting, pillow cheek against his hardened clavicle, their chubby arms looped around his neck.

// // //

The first time your little one tried store-bought baby food was the last time. At their scrunched face, “What’s the matter? Don’t like it?”

Levi himself tried a bite and matched their expression, “The hell? No wonder you hate that shit.”

So instead, in the solid food stage, he chops up the fruits in perfectly symmetric little chunks. Puts on an apron to do it (making your heart go boink).

Feeding the spoonfuls of food is one of his favorite parts of parenting. You thought he would hate the messy process, but he feels a sense of satisfaction when scooping the mishaps from their cheeks and into their mouth. Also, he cracks up at their facial reactions.

“Not a fan of kiwi.”

“Tasty apple, huh?”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hallway biting your sleeve, holding back those smiles and giggles. He is completely unwound when he thinks its just them two, and you wouldn’t want to miss that for the world.

YAKUZA!TOJI X MILF!READER —aka toji on some joe goldberg bullshit

🎞️ 𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟏:

⟢ rating: mdni 18+ stalking, drugs (alcohol, cigs), yuji is yakuza!sukuna x reader child, toji is a freaky frog (lol tysm @buttercupblu143 for that), toji is delulu af, size-kink, milf kink, breeding kink, voyeurism, dilf!toji, obsessive tendencies, heavy manipulation, brooding, yandere fluff. ⟢ episode run time: 𝟒.𝟖𝐊

⟢ episode list: m.list ⟢ subscriber access: please comment on m.list to be tagged, rather than individual episodes as its easier for me to track. ⟢ director's note: i've been working on this fic so long so i'm finally happy to share it with you, hope you enjoy it! disclaimer—this is a plot-driven, eventual smut fic and is told mostly in Toji POV through flashbacks until the end of episode 3. so if you stick with me i promise you a freak nasty pay off in episode 4 💕🤭. the build up and decent into Toji's crazy makes it 100x better, trust~

Cracking his stiffened neck with a pop, Toji lazily exhales a plume of smoke. Absent-mindedly watching as it dissipates up into the amber sky. 

Streaks of molten gold laced with crimson flare in the atmosphere as the sun sinks into the horizon, its reflection shimmering like fire off the distant Tokyo skyscrapers. 

Worthy of being his favorite smoking spot, the idyllic viewpoint of his balcony is breathtakingly peaceful—or it would be, if it didn’t also provide a front-row seat to his next-door neighbors' heated domestic disputes.

“No more lies Ryo! I’m taking Yuji and we’re getting the fuck up outta this place!”

Your voice in particular travels outside loud and clear once it reaches a certain octave, eviscerating any serenity the spot may have offered. It’s almost as if the sky was perfectly mirroring the tumultuous end of a relationship in the violent dusky atmosphere.

Heh.

Well, Toji supposed a few things in life could actually be coincidences. 

He would call it poetic—but nah.

Toji knew fuck all about poetry. 

“Bitch? Oh I’M the crazy bitch?! BET! I’ll show you a fuckin’ crazy ass bitch!”

Toji snorts, pushing back his messy bangs as he blows more clouds into the atmosphere.

“Y’er really sumthin’ else mamas....”

To say Toji is impressed by you is an understatement.

You're confident, not taking shit from nobody—not even your high-ranking yakuza baby daddy.

Toji likes that trait about you—just one of many on the ever-growing list of things about you that have caught his attention over the past few months.

93 days to be exact.

That’s how long it had been since you moved into The Nursery and he first laid eyes on you.

The Nursery—as it is dubbed by those in-the-know, stands as a highrise of luxury condominiums owned by the Yakuza. Located in a luxury suburb of Tokyo, Denenchofu, The Nursery serves as an undercover haven to place the girlfriends, favored mistresses and illegitimate children of relatively high-level yakuza—out of the way.

And with the ease of a fond memory, Toji smirks, remembering the very first day you moved in.

⟡

The unfamiliar keys fumbled in your delicate hand as you had struggled to open the door to your new condo—the condo right next to his own.

Neighbors, eh?

Although Toji couldn’t say he was surprised. He’d gotten a tip he’d be getting a new neighbor but he couldn’t have imagined they’d be someone like you. 

A new mom of about a year—and a foreigner. 

That much he could tell from first glance. 

Your son, whom Toji would later learn was named Yuji, balanced on one hip while your purse and several other bags weighed on the other.

All your frustrations were betrayed in the tone of your voice as you cradled your phone between your ear and shoulder. Whoever was on the other end of the line acted as a sympathetic ear to your exasperation concerning the lack of help moving in. 

You were stressed to say the very least and in clear need of help.

Yet even to a stranger, it wouldn’t take more than a glance to see that Toji wasn’t the type to care about being neighborly—let alone considerate enough to help someone he didn’t know. So when he found himself moving toward you, the warm look of expectancy and familiarity you gave him was surprising.

Before he could even say a word, you turned to him with a bright smile, mouthed a weary yet appreciative ‘Thank you’, and unceremoniously plopped Yuji into his arms.

With one arm freed, you were finally able to open the door to your condo. 

Toji watched as you strolled inside, your bags haphazardly abandoned in the entryway, to survey the luxury condo—all the while still immersed in your phone conversation.

The exchange had left Toji at a loss for words. 

That was not how people typically reacted to him. 

While astute enough to blend in whenever needed, once noticed—a broad muscular man of over six feet, dark features and a deep menacing scar on his lip—to say Toji was merely intimidating would be a vast understatement.

Pocketing the unlit cigarette that had been in his mouth, he wordlessly followed you inside. A rare curiosity overtook him, and he would later be grateful that it had drawn him to you.

Toji’s eyes watched you closely as you moved around the space, but he remained silent, allowing you to conduct your inspection.

Instead, he seized the opportunity to inspect you.

Remaining in the foyer with Yuji, squirming but tucked safely under his arm, Toji’s eyes shamelessly roamed your body. Allowing his gaze to linger on the more curvier parts of you that commanded his attention.

The stretchy black leggings you wore fit on your form like second skin, while the waistband sat low on your hips. The tight material so graciously dug into your curves, showing off the exact shape of your plump backside.

Speaking of—Toji didn’t miss the way your ass nor thighs had jiggled when you swayed your hips, surveying the room.

On future occasions, when Toji had the pleasure of trailing behind you in the hall, he’d have to press his lips into a hard line in order to resist whistling at the sight. 

Toji quickly learned from your constant athleisure attire that you preferred to dress more comfortably.

But comfy didn’t mean frumpy.

On the contrary, from the sleek black italian leather of your Gucci bags and your pristine vintage 5411 sneakers, Toji could tell you were used to having nice things wrapped around your thick serpentine curves. 

But what really consumed Toji’s thoughts as he got to know you better was how, no matter how loose-fitting your tops, tees, and dresses were, they still somehow clung enticingly to the buoyancy of your fucking huge milk swollen tits.

Fuck n' hell—how crazy would it feel if he could just slip his dick between them? 

Toji chuckled to himself. 

He was no minute man but the heavy ripened mounds attached to you would even serve as a challenge for him, he was sure of it.

Licking his lips, Toji reluctantly tore his errant eyes away from your body once you ended your call and turned your attention back to him.

He still couldn’t forget the smile you graced him with upon meeting his gaze. Like a vision, your features sparkled brightly as you openly laughed at the way he was carrying Yuji.

“You might be built like a linebacker, big guy, but he’s a baby—not a football.”

Toji’s pants tighten at your words describing his physique even if they weren’t meant for flattery. 

His assessment of you was compeleted at that moment:

Toji concluded—you were the complete dictionary definition of a MILF in his eyes, and he knew from that very moment—with every fiber in his being—he wanted to fuck you. 

But almost annoyingly, more than that, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt true desire spread anywhere else besides his cock. A strange, almost faint-like feeling constricting his chest simply from the audacity of being in your presence.

“And where’s your boss, huh?” 

You looked skeptical of Toji as you took Yuji back.

The cherry-cheeked boy, thrilled to be in his mama's arms again, giggled and clung to you like a little koala. Toji watched intently, his gaze afix on you as you happily cooed back at Yuji while you gently bounced him.

Toji could have sworn you even had the nerve to bat your long lashes innocently upon glancing back at him for an answer.

It was your was entire aura Toji was utterly captivated by and rendered motionless.

Frozen.

The scene had stirred a feeling he’d thought he’d been numb to since his late wife passed. 

No one else had made him feel that way before or since.

Exactly who in the hell were you?

“Yo! Earth to tough guy! Don’t tell me you’re a mute yakuza?”

The scar on Toji’s mouth twitched. His expression pulling into an amused smirk from your either fearlessness, or just plain cluelessness, in addressing someone of Toji's rank in such a way.

Besides, Toji was a lot of things, sure, but snitch wasn’t one of them.

The mute yakuza you referred to—the ones consequently without tongues—were the only ones he knew of in the organizations.

“Nah, ma I aint.”

Toji dramatically lets his tongue roll out of his mouth for emphasis, taking pleasure in your recoil of him.

His thick appendage flicked salaciously at you and your eyes widened slightly, face warming, before feigning some indignation. 

You’d huffed at him, turning your head away at his display before opting to change the subject, sass still lingering.

“And you're here because…why? Sukuna couldn’t even be assed to make sure his son and baby moms’ moved in safely so he sent you? What?—he’s too busy thuggin’ in the streets?”

From the looks of the pink haired brat with the similar birthmarks under his eyes, it didn’t take much for Toji to deduce that you were put here by Sukuna even before you confirmed it to him. 

Toji had heard a hushed rumor from a while back that Sukuna had a kid with someone outside of the organization.

Tch, Ryomen Sukuna—a relative newcomer for how few years he had been in the organization though he had quickly risen in ranks. 

All due to his ruthlessness and cutthroat nature—taking over a rival organization’s business, which simultaneously gave yours a vast money-laundering front and quelled a long standing turf war in one go. 

Sukuna was a force. 

Dangerous and arrogant to a fault, with a generally unlikeable disposition to top it all off. But his impressive track record earned him the respect he had. 

The smug ornery bastard surely didn’t deserve a walking smokeshow like you. 

But Sukuna had at least done right by you to move you into The Nursery. 

You should be safe here at least—Or you usually would be.

But with the recent assassination of an executive overseas—one of the bosses right-hand men, everyone was on high-alert of potential threats or next targets. 

There was currently no information, nor motive on why this had happened. 

The assumption had been it was an internal coup, a power play—yet anyone with the means or motive had been in Japan at the time—including Sukuna.   

Sukuna had made more than his fair share of enemies during his short-time, even within the organization. It would be no gamble to say the people who wanted after Sukuna wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you or your kid.

Especially those who may have thought he had something to do with this recent upset.

Left to your own devices, you would surely end up dead with the mouth you had on you—but that wasn’t his problem.

Toji smirked. 

“That shitty lil’ rookie ain’t my boss mamas. If anything he’d answer t’me.”

Not exactly a lie—but not quite the truth either. 

As the Yakuza’s most deadly assassin, Toji was given the executive title but had always been a lone wolf in the organization. Toji didn’t necessarily have the direct authority to order Sukuna around, yet given Toji’s standing as an executive, Sukuna still had to show him respect.

Being sold into the organization as a young child to cover his former family’s debts, Toji had more than earned his stripes. Toji was someone, for whom for all intents and purposes, you did not ever want to see—as he would likely be the last person you would ever see should you have the misfortune. 

The rank was given to him more out of fear and reverence for his service to the organization than anything else. 

In contrast, Sukuna dealt in operations, a leader with a growing territory of command along with a unit of kyodai under him. 

Two completely different sectors.

However, Toji doesn’t regret he’d told the little lie as he remembers enjoying the way your face dropped, falling into embarrassment as you began apologizing profusely for the mistake. 

At least you knew better than to sass Sukuna’s superiors, besides, Toji couldn’t really blame you for thinking he was one of Sukuna’s lackeys. 

Toji was still fully suited from just finishing a job. It was rare to see anyone in the classic yakuza attire—a sleek black Hugo Boss suit—who wasn't actively on the clock for the organization. 

When members did visit their family here, they typically wore civilian clothing in order to keep up the clandestine appearances of an ordinary luxury condominium. 

Nevertheless, Toji was one of the few men in the organization who visited The Nursery regularly, rather than casual visits. As a result, it was not unusual for him to arrive dressed in this manner.

With narrowed eyes, Toji's gaze raked over your body again, savoring the way you continued to fluster under his stare. 

He thought he wouldn't mind punishing you for the minor transgression if it meant he could put that sharp tongue of yours to some good use.

A sly grin crossed Toji’s features. 

Towering over you, he savored how small you seemed below him and how tempting you looked, face flushed and tilted up to meet his smolder.

“Tsk, you know yakuza don't take disrespect lightly—so how exactly are you going to make it up t'me then, mamas?”

Toji could tell from the slight crack of amusement in your expression that you didn't miss his innuendo. Not as scandalized as you wanted to appear, you clearly found some humor in his forthrightness—even if you did continuously rebuff him. 

And Toji found he liked that too.

You didn’t take yourself too seriously but you still weren’t an easy girl by any means. 

If Toji were a lesser man, he might have started to drool as the small bow of apology you gave him highlighted the swell of your ample bosom nearly spilled out of your damn shirt, prompting a rough exhale through his nose as Toji tried to restrain himself.

He had forgiven you instantly, of course.

The buoyant visual being payment enough for Toji.

Nonetheless, being the perfect doll you were, you told him that although you didn’t have anything set up to offer him tea, you would bake him something once you were settled. 

Lightening the mood again, Toji chuckled, easing your worries of any lingering offense when he told you his name, mentioned he had a son around the same age, and that he owned the condo next door.

Toji made a mental note of your and Yuji's names as you told him. He took care to repeat your name in particular, letting it slowly roll off his tongue with a hint of mischief.

Your last name was not Sukuna—which pleased him to know that prior intel was wrong.

So you weren’t married to him. 

“Don’t tell me they sent you as the welcome wagon?”

You questioned Toji, interrupting his thoughts.

Toji merely chuckled at your naivety, this was still yakuza territory and the residents here could be treacherous if they found it necessary to be. 

“Heh, not quite. But this will be the warmest welcome you’re gonna get. Consider yourself lucky it was me."

Toji grin widened at your hmphs, and he continued.

"I’d watch your back though, ma. The women here can be just as vicious as their counterparts.”

Toji could tell you were intimidated in the least though, you balanced Yuji on one hip and placed your hand on the other in an obvious display of defiance. 

“I’ll have you know I can take care of myself just fine, tough guy.”

The challenging look you shot at him had pleased Toji.

You had some fight in you—but you had no idea just what you were up against.

Yet just as quickly, Toji’s satisfaction dropped when you followed that statement up with the fact that he should probably leave. 

You mentioned to him you didn’t want any bloodshed—your fears compounded given the current climate of everything—if Sukuna or one of his men showed up and found a strange man in his baby mama’s new condo. 

Toji snorted.

It was true, Sukuna has a wild temper. 

That much was known throughout the organization. 

Pfft, figures an asshole like Sukuna would also be incredibly possessive—but looking at you, who could blame him? 

However, it wasn’t something Toji was concerned with though, even now. 

Toji was one of the few yakuza, even among the executive ranks, who didn’t flinch when they heard Sukuna’s name. Hearing it leave your luscious lips Toji considers it more of a challenge than anything else.

“Bloodshed, eh? Don’t worry ma, I can hold my own.” 

Toji recalled the same tingle reviving in the depths of his chest for the second time as he watched you burst into hearty laughter.

“It’s not you I’m worried about Fushiguro! You think I got the kind of bread to afford a place like this on my own if something happens to Sukuna?”

Shaking his head in amusement, Toji would let you have this round.

“Heh, fair enough, ma—ya can just call me Toji by the way.”

With a playful smile, rolled your eyes at his overt attempt at familiarity, bouncing Yuji once more.

“Goodbye, Fushiguro! I’ll see you around!”

Toji finally allowed you to usher him out into the hallway with a wave as the movers arrived to bring in the rest of your belongings.

Stalling before entering his own unit, Toji listened as you unabashedly gave orders to the movers, taking the unlit cigarette from his pocket and placing it back in his mouth.

Heh, you were bossy too. 

Nevertheless, Toji was left trying to pinpoint exactly what it was beyond him wanting to fuck you that had his adrenaline pumping like crazy.

Or why the intrusive thought popped into his mind to say ‘he’d take care of you’ when you referenced something happening to Sukuna.

He didn’t even fucking know you.

Nevertheless, like a moth to flame from your first encounter, Toji found himself curiously drawn to the warmth and familiarity of your presence. 

The gut urge to look after you—to protect you, bubbling up to the surface.

And being attached like you were to Sukuna, you would need it.

From thereon, Toji would try in vain to shake you from his mind’s eye. That very same night, Toji recalls how he left The Nursery to return back to his Shinjuku penthouse.

Staying there and away from you for a few days. 

Although, he soon learned no matter where he went—thoughts of you followed relentlessly. 

Your alluring charms wove its way into his subconsciousness to taunt him even in sleep. It hadn't even been a week before Toji awoke to soiled, sticky sheets.

It was disgraceful. 

He wasn’t the type to get wet dreams—even back when he was a teenager. 

And seeking out the company of others had failed him too. 

Not even his favorite strippers from the top Minato City clubs he frequented—who were always eager to take him to the back for extra service—could scratch his ever-persisting itch for you. 

No matter how many warm holes he buried himself in, he was still left insatiable and frustrated.

Toji wanted you.

And really, who were you to suddenly insert yourself into his life, infecting him with this affliction for you, but not being his?

Something about you unsettled the indifferent disposition he had resigned himself to. He was no longer able to remain apathetic towards you.

Toji wanted—no, needed—to know more.

To know everything about you.

If only to be able to stop thinking of you, right? 

Toji reasons once learns the truth, exposing to him who the ‘real you’ was, the brain-buzzing visions of you would have stopped plaguing him.

Utilizing his skills as one of the most proficient underworld assassins, Toji had begun discreetly monitoring your comings and goings over the next few weeks. 

When you left for errands. When you checked your mail—what kind of mail you received. Not to mention, figured out a schedule for when that bastard Sukuna would visit you.

Toji figured out what country you came from as well as your hobbies and interests—eagerly soaking up every mundane detail of your life. And contrary to his initial thoughts, each piece of information about you he digested only left him with an unquenchable hunger for more.

Perhaps most importantly, Toji also surmised you were a pretty good cook and homemaker evident by the well-balanced grocery selection you’d purchase. 

Toji's stomach would never fail to grumble upon him smelling the foreign, yet delectable, scents that routinely wafted from under your door and into the hallway most evenings. 

Would you cook like that for him? 

From there the fantasies about seeing you as his wife had come surprisingly easy—something he admittedly did often.

Imagining he’d come home to you, after a kill and dinner would be on the table still warm, though he’d arrive at such late hours. Your kids would already be asleep, and you would be wearing a frilly pink pastel apron—and nothing else.

The more Toji thought of it, the more he craved for that to be his reality.

From that point, Toji found himself giving Megumi’s nanny more and more time off as he’d spent more nights at The Nursery in favor of his much larger Shinjuku bachelor pad.

If only for the slightest glimpses of you.

Toji would eventually come to the conclusion he couldn’t pinpoint a rational reason for continuing to keep tabs on you—except that he simply wanted to. 

So, that’s exactly what he continued to do.

Sure, it wasn’t logical. 

And yet, neither was the growing ache he felt in his chest every time he saw or thought of you. 

Toji's heart feeling simultaneously full and hopelessly barren when it came to you even now.

Toji quickly found that the highlight of his day was catching even a brief glimpse of your warm, gentle eyes and the affection you so openly shared with Yuji. Toji enviously watched the joy you found in your walks together and the way you affectionately cared for and doted on him.

The same affection he still struggles to give his own son.

Not that Toji was ever particularly good at expressing his emotions. 

Call it the nature of the job, but for an assassin, feelings and having something to lose often got you and whatever you held dear killed.

Toji had suppressed his emotions for so long out of necessity, that he didn’t think he was capable of feeling them at all until he had met Megumi’s mother.

Maybe he was growing older and softer, but experiencing the warmth of shared intimacy—even if it was only brief period of time with his late wife—had affected him in ways he wished it hadn’t.

Because all of that was now gone.

And perhaps more ironically, it wasn’t Toji’s violent profession that took his wife away, but illness. Thus, there was no one for him to blame.

No one for him to seek vengeance against but fate itself.

In the wake of her passing, it pained Toji to remember her, so he rid himself of every reminder, including Megumi—who, despite inheriting Toji’s features, had his mother’s gentle spirit.

Choosing to put Megumi in The Nursery was less painful for Toji, who hadn’t spent enough time with his wife to truly become a changed man.

He had only just begun to learn—only caught a glimpse of what a life filled with love could be like.

Love. 

A ridiculous thing, really. 

Since her death, even the word itself had felt like a bitter poison on his tongue.

But could you be the one to change that?

Toji saw in you the same vibrancy and love for life that his late wife had possessed.

And while his infatuation with watching you had grown exponentially over the past few weeks, he was practical enough to wonder if he was simply losing his grip. 

Heh, maybe he’d finally gone off the deep end this time. 

Perhaps it had just been too long since he’d interacted with a woman who had even a hint of a nurturing nature, and he was losing perspective.

The yakuza world didn’t typically attract women like that. 

The Nursery was proof enough—full of kept mistresses and fleeting flings. 

Any beauty these women had couldn’t make up for their shallow dispositions. Spoiled and self-centered, most cared more about the status that came from being associated with high-level Yakuza than about the men they were with. 

The arrangement suited them fine. They were happy to be trophies, to be used, shelved and obedient—whatever it took to maintain their lifestyle.

Toji had his fair share of them, too.

As a high-ranking Yakuza widower with a cute kid, Toji Fushiguro found no shortage of women in The Nursery eager to spread their legs for him.

Most propositioned him outright.

The men, if they suspected anything, weren’t foolish enough to confront Toji. Debatable whether they even cared enough to—these women weren’t their actual wives or legitimate daughters.

That was part of the reason he’d tried warned you about them—but you knew that too well by now, as Toji's cryptic prophecy of the unwelcome behavior had come to pass over the weeks you'd been there.

Seeing fresh blood in the water, the women of The Nursery had made it their mission to belittle you. They’ve assumed you don’t understand the Japanese customs or language well enough, trying to push you around as if you don’t belong. Yet their passive-aggressive isolating tactics failed undermine your confidence, at least from what you would show them. Your sharp retorts often left them stunned and stewing at your complete disregard for their pecking order.

To Toji you possessed a unique strength, and despite their attempts to diminish your spirit, you’ve shown them that you’re not easily intimidated. However, it wasn't fair to you—someone as earnest and good-natured as you should never have been brought here in the first place.

And truthfully, Toji knew Megumi didn’t belong here either, he was legitimate. 

Toji had married Megumi’s mother, she’d been worthy of the title of being a wife—like he had realized you were too.

You deserved to be an actual wife. 

Like Megumi deserved an actual mother.

Like Toji realized he deserved you.

⟡

CRASH— 

Toji snaps back to present reality when the sound of something heavy shattering jolts him from his thoughts. His hand is already on the .45 tucked under his shirt at the small of his back, his assassin instincts kicking in.

Your fights with Sukuna were never quiet to be sure, but they never escalated to the point of anything breaking. 

Yet, showing a rare display of restraint, Toji stops himself.

His errant hand flexes open and closed repeatedly as he suppresses the kill-or-be-killed instincts triggered by the noise.

Focusing in on the light sway of the sheer curtains, a large figure Toji recognizes as Sukuna storms by.

Toji’s stare is so intense it could burn through thick glass and curtains. He would quite literally kill someone just to see through them right now.

Tsk, it makes Toji regret not placing a surveillance camera in your condo.

He would have done it already—upon one of the many times he'd slipped into your apartment over the last few months—if he weren’t almost certain that Sukuna or his shrewd lackey, Uraume, would sniff it out immediately.

No, something like that would be too risky. If ever exposed Toji could lose you for good.

Gripping the railing until his knuckles whitened enough to match your curtains—the thought of not jeopardizing his chances is the only thing that stays his compulsion to leap over onto your balcony and break the sliding door off its tracks completely.

Toji's drive to protect you reaches an all-time high as the unfamiliar feeling of anxiety settles in the back of his throat if something were to happen to you. 

While he clearly holds you in high regard as the mother of his child, Toji knew that even with that respect, Sukuna's tolerance had its limits—and those limits were not easily stretched.

Toji couldn't let anything happen to you due to his own lack of action and yet—

STOP.

Calm down, Fushiguro. 

Toji steadies himself.

Calling upon similar patience he would embody before a kill.

He knows he can’t move rashly, not after all this time—after all he has planned. 

Sukuna would be out of the picture soon. 

Toji would wait. 

Like he’d been waiting. 

It wouldn’t be much longer now.

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

⟢ end credits: how was that so far? like it? please comment, like and reblog and lmk what you think! stick around for more delulu yandere yakuza!toji. episode 2 has 7k already and is practically done. i have to do the edits my beta suggested and then do a final pass through to add in some foreshadowing :) if all goes well (should post on monday or tuesday).

Oh nooooooo my boobs are soo soft and squishy haha it would be such a shame if someone gently massaged them and left kisses all over them haha and sucked them and left hickeys all over that would be soooo bad

They purposely gave him a pantyshot I’m gonna lose it

Evgeny Sedukhin - “Symphony of the sixth blast furnace” (1979)

Thinking about Draken giving you backshots in the back seat of your car.

You whine and paw at him after a movie date later at night so the parking lot is almost empty, plus it was too cold for his bike so you had a perfectly nice back seat to ruin. Any other time he probably would have told you no, rolling his eyes and telling you you're crazy (affectionately) but there was something about tonight that was different. Chalk it up to how pretty you look or the moon cycle or whatever but he's shuffling to the backseat to get in between your legs without any argument.

Next thing he knows you're underneath him, his big hands pushing you into a nasty arch with your ass against his pelvis and your hands scrambling to hold onto anything as you cream around his thick cock. Every roll of his hips has you squealing and seeing stars, his heavy groans and slaps to your asscheeks only pushing you further and further over the edge. Maybe you shift your hips a bit too far away when a particularly hard thrust nearly knocks your air out before he forcibly pulls you back to spear you on his length, his flushed chest pressing against your back.

"Nuh-uh princess don't be running from me" He scolds with a nip to your shoulder blade "you wanted this dick so bad, you'll take it. All of it"

when i was a kid my grandpa was a great depression survivor and he wouldn't waste ANY amount of food so he taught me i had to eat the apple core and i started eating the whole apple in grade school and the kids called me horse boy

party and rock in the house tonight !!