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obeythemasters · 1 year

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DILF IN QUESTION. toji fushiguro

… in which you learn toji’s rightful secret

“annoying ass old man!”

you hate him. you really hate him. he’s egoistic, self centered, narcissistic asshole. you have been in a situationship or so they call it with toji. even if it’s one you both knew that you both had something special. it was never a joke.

now toji fushiguro left you hanging. he ghosted you.

your friend told you to make it simple, “then text him, tell him that it’s done and dump his ass,” but she doesn’t get it; none of them do. "i can’t! he’ll hate me!“ sure, you’re younger than him. but you’re not stupid. you know that it wasn’t just a fling. you were aware of this.

”[name] he’s a grown man, no surprise if he sleeps with other girls other than you.“ she starts, "guys his age usually use girls for sex.” continuing, “just a reminder.”

that’s not how toji is. sure toji loves sex. but it isn’t really like that.

he’s crude for most times but he can be refined in his own manner. he loves you, he tells you that. and you can see it. how mornings are when you wake up with food beside you that he prepared. how he baths you after long nights. how he picks you up in uni after your class. how he leaves work for your call. or how sweet he is when he plants kisses all over your body.

you recall the last time you saw him, it was about three weeks ago.

you feel pure bliss after sex, cause it’s that time where you and toji pretermit the mean and nasty words said earlier the night. the big man turns soft. to your surprise.

sounding exhausted, he questioned, “still with me?” with his remaining energy, toji pulls you closer to him so that your legs are on top of his and his head is resting on top of yours. a familiar position for the two of you. you too reply with a worn-out “mhm, very exhausted.”

“you like it when it’s rough, don’t you?” you laugh at his words. he’s helping of you sleep with his sweet words.

“you’re really pretty. so pretty. wanna stay like this forever baby.” he whispers, “you’re my woman, only for me.”

“you’re so sweet after sex, toji. be like this all the time,” you chuckle.

“can you blame me? have I told you that your pussy so good it made me change my life ma.” he continues to whisper kissing the side of your face as you laugh at his words, “quit playin’ let’s sleep baby.”

it was the last time, and it was too sweet for you. did he act that way because he had intended to ghost you alone all along?

you [9:38 am] are we ok?

toji [10:45 pm] tomorrow, come to my apartment

you [10:50 pm] huh

you [10:50 pm] what time?

toji [10:55 pm] whenever you want, we’re staying home all day

you expect to see toji as the door opens, but no, you’re met with an unfamiliar kid looking at you. a boy. you assume from how he looks he’s 7-8 years old.

“is … toji here?”

the kid blankly look at you, “yeah, why?”

he’s blunt you thought, “um … can i see him?”

“are you the friend he’s talking about?” he asked questioning himself rather you. “dad’s in the shower, come and wait inside.” he says continuing. dad? dad? toji’s a dad? he guides you inside like you don’t know the place. you continue to follow him until he sat at one of the living room’s sofa which cue you to sit too. what should you say?

“do you like him? dad?” he asked.

you can see now. how he’s like toji. so blunt. straightforward. crude. even his eyes are like toji’s. should you ask about her mother? is toji married that’s why ghosted you? what do you answer him? is yes a safe answer.

“he’s a nice guy.” this is the safest way.

then he laughs, out loud. “nice guy, that’s new. he’s rude, my dad, but if he really likes you he’ll be the best man you’ll ever meet.” adding he says, “i can see why now, you’re exactly he’s type.”

lost for words you get interrupted by heavy steps coming from the side. toji’s arrival. he comes in with his hair still dripping of water and a towel wrap around his waist. “oh, you’re here. earlier than i expected.” he says and you simply smile at him in response.

“you met each other. [name] this is megumi my kid, megs this [name]” toji sat beside you gripping the side of your waist. “hi megumi.” you say a little smile forming on your lips.

“kid, go to your room and give us alone time.”

megumi stands up, “she’s nice, dad. nice choice.” leaves his lips before he walked away and his words made toji laugh. “takes after me, can u see it doll.”

“… you’re really a dilf?” you started, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? that’s why you ghosted me?” you say questioning the man beside you.

“was scared, that’s why. don’t wanna scare you away if i say it. i already hate our situation.” toji says, “don’t wanna just sleep with you, wanna make you my mine.” finding his right words, “takes courage even for a guy like me, you know.”

finally a smirk curves his lips, “so, want to date an old man with a kid?”

reblogs are appreciated!!

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obeythemasters · 1 year

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(𝟏) 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. Atsumu confronts you. | wc. 2.2k+

cw/ tw. college au. nerd!reader, volleyball player Atsumu, mild angst (like you can blink and you'd miss it), reader wears glasses, praise kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, pet names (ex. sweetheart, baby)

ও featuring. Atsumu x Fem!Reader

ও an. we have reached the end! (my sleeping schedule is all over the place due to work, so I’m a little later than I said this would be up) hopefully, you like how it came together, enjoy:) | series m. list

You wouldn’t consider this—hurriedly slipping through a crowd of drunk college students to the front door—you running away from your problems. No. It’s just a reprieve, a moment to devise a reasonable solution in the time it takes to leave the frat house and reach the bus stop.

But once you’re out on the sidewalk, you admit that you’re not exactly not running away either. Because while trying to avoid tripping over your feet in the ridiculous heels Kay convinced you to wear, you wonder if switching classes or moving to a different school would be too irrational.

And in context, yes, that’s precisely the definition of what you said you're not doing.

You know—tangled up in the agonized frustration with how well everything was going and hopeless resignation with how it was bound to come to a head at some point—that you wouldn’t have stayed to confront Atsumu anyway. Not with so many people there to witness the look on your face when the rejection comes.

Avoidance is easier, and acceptance of harsh facts is doable over time. So that’s that.

Only it’s not. There’s more to it.

It’s just you’d rather not go over the mental gymnastics of it while trying to get as far as possible from the heat of bodies and loud music. Not when all you can think about is fleeing, particularly to the safety of your apartment, where you can be a coward in peace.

Unfortunately, parties and gossip go hand in hand. And with so many eyes and ears (and Kay) in such a small space, it’s no wonder it doesn’t take long for news to travel.

So it seems.

Or maybe you’re walking slower than you think.

Maybe…maybe Atsumu actually started to wonder what took you so long and asked around for himself. Either way, it doesn’t matter because you hear him come barrelling out of the party after you, and he’s fast.

You walk faster, a small part of you hoping he’ll give up if only to give yourself more time to think. You haven’t even examined everything or thought of what you should do yet—

Yet, your internal spiraling gutters out when he calls your name.

“H-hey, just wait a minute—!”

And then. Then, Atsumu’s in front of you, bringing you to a stop, his chest heaving and almost tripping over his feet—you’re almost not sure you’re ready to face him yet. You stand there anyhow, legs stiff and swallowed up by anxiety as you peek up at him from under your lashes.

“You’re leaving?” he breathes. “I thought you were having fun. You were having fun, right? Was it…was it me? We can—”

“You know,” you interrupt, voice trembling.

A slow blink is all you get—almost like he hadn’t expected you to broach the subject outright.

But an impossibly long moment of silence follows, a brief hesitation that says a lot and equally not enough. Strained. Painful.

Then Atsumu clears his throat, yet his voice still wavers.

“I know. I—” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve actually known for a while now.”

Your mouth feels dry, and the reasonable thing to do next is to ask how. But all you can think about are the number of times he’s shown up to class and known. That you’d said and done things, and he—he—

"Sweetheart,” Atsumu murmurs. “Don’t cry."

At first, you hadn’t noticed, but now you feel the hot trail of tears on your cheeks. And you’re not sure what’s worse: that you’re crying or that Atsumu’s here to witness it.

You cover your face with your hands. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Of me?"

"Not funny." You sniffle behind your hands, lip trembling. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure at first, not until last week. I'm kinda attuned to your laugh now," he explains. "But I was worried you’d avoid me if I asked you about it, so I thought I’d wait for you to tell me.”

“You’d probably end up waiting a long time, you know. I’m not—” your sigh is shaky. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

“I would have waited anyway. I’d…” Atsumu laughs nervously, “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. All of it. Because I don’t regret what we did.”

You’re too scared to see if he’s telling the truth.

“But—we—I-I’m me, and you’re…you. We’re just so different,” you try to explain.

“Why does that matter?” he asks softly.

“Because…because…”

For some inexplicable reason, you don’t have an answer. Does it really matter?

It shouldn’t.

And yet.

“Because nobody likes the nerd. I’m quiet and sometimes difficult, and I look like—this—and—”

“Sweetheart, look at me.” His fingers wrap around yours, thumbs smoothing circles over the inside of your wrists, and when you finally drop your hands, he smiles. “There she is. Listen to me, okay?”

You shake your head, biting your lip.

“I think you’re so pretty,” he says, reaching up to brush away the remaining tears on your cheeks. “And I could care less about how different we are. Do you understand?”

Out of all of the scenarios you thought up, Atsumu telling you how pretty you are in the middle of a dimly lit sidewalk as it starts to snow hadn’t been one of them. Part of you doesn’t want to believe him, but the way his eyes track over your face like he’s taking it in for the first time has your breath catching in your chest.

“Let me take you out on a date.”

“Right now?” you giggle softly in disbelief, feeling slightly breathless—a tell-tale flush trickles up your neck and sends prickles of heat onto your face. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Then we can stay in at my place.” Atsumu rushes to add when you arch an eyebrow, “we don’t have to do anything other than watch movies.”

He keeps going when you just stare at him, all dumbstruck.

“And I know a good takeout place that’s still open. Just…say yes,” he pleads.

You swallow thickly. Even though you’re still waiting for this to be the setup of some big joke, there’s not a single trace of dishonesty or mockery on Atsumu’s face.

“Okay,” you whisper, staring up at him. “Movies sound nice.”

The smile he gives you is almost shy, and you can’t help but return it.

It’s nice, not over the top like some dates you’d been on in the past, but it doesn’t need to be.

He sticks to his word, and you can tell he intends to make the most out of cheap takeout and sci-fi b-movies you’ve insisted you never watched. But it’s not until you’re both tucked under the blanket from the back of the couch that any residual nerves from earilier slowly melt away.

Maybe it’s because it’s Atsumu, or perhaps you’re just overly distracted by his hand tracing indelible patterns into the spot of your stomach where your shirt rode up after he curled you into his side.

You bite down on the corner of your lip, heart fluttering wildly, and look over at him out of the corner of your eye. However, he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you. Instead, he’s entirely immersed in the movie on the screen.

It’s then that you realize you have no idea what to do next.

He said neither of you is obligated to do more than talk and laugh and cuddle. But it also implies that you can.

And the longer you sit there, wondering if he does or doesn’t want more, your nerves creep back.

Clearly, you’re overthinking this. You’ve technically done worse things with Atsumu over the phone. Several times. And for some reason, you can’t stop freaking out about how his fingers keep tracing lower and lower until you’re sighing into his neck.

"Sorry," he says insincerely.

"No, you're not." You tilt your head, blinking when you find him staring at you.

Slowly, he starts to smile. "No, I'm not."

The end credits come up on the TV at the same time that Atsumu dips his head down to kiss you. His tongue is already sliding across yours, and you bury your fingers into his soft hair.

He reacts exactly how you hoped he would: he groans softly as his hands palm your hips and slide up the back of your shirt, equally pulling you against him and pressing you further into the couch.

And when you fall back against the cushions, he follows like a lead, chasing your mouth until your thighs are bracketing his hips.

“I know I said we don’t have to do anything, but fuck,” he mumbles, palming your ass through your jeans in greedy handfuls. “Just this, okay?”

You don’t even know what it is that you agree to. Just that one moment, you’re nodding yes, and the next, Atsumu has both of you down to your underwear.

The noises he forces from you should be embarrassing when he lifts your hips and grinds his covered cock into you, mortified to acknowledge the wanton, needy side of you he so easily coaxes to the surface. But you can’t find it in yourself to care—not now, anyway.

Perhaps later, you think, after Kay begs you to recount every detail.

You won’t.

But. Still.

You’ll think about the muscles in his shoulders and how they roll as he moves you against him. Or how his mouth makes you dizzy until you’re thinking of nothing but the cock you want inside you. Just how much you want him in that very moment, it’s all-consuming.

"Atsumu—ah—I want you.”

He doesn’t even look up. Instead, he hums against your chest, lips latching onto a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “You have me, baby.”

This time, you tug on his hair lightly to get his attention.

“No, I want you.” The words come out so soft that you swear he didn’t hear you, but then Atsumu stops to stare at you with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You swallow thickly and then say, “are you going to fuck me right here?”

"Yes?" He sees the look on your face before changing his answer. "No."

Atsumu scoops you off the couch by the back of your thighs, all but dragging you up his body to crash his mouth onto yours. Then he’s stumbling through the living room and kicking closed a door seconds later before he falls onto his bed with you.

He leans back, his eyes dark as they track over you, settling a warm, heady feeling that spreads in your abdomen.

“I’ve never gotten…to really look before,” he says, a wide hand trailing between your breasts down to the top of your underwear, where his fingers wrap into the waistband. “To see all of you instead of just parts.”

Then he tugs, and delicate lace falls apart around your hips, effectively ruining your favorite pair.

"H-hey," you try to protest, but it comes out shaky and hitched on the back of your tongue. "I liked those."

"I'll buy you more. As many as you fucking want," he groans as he shifts down your body, his hands pressing your thighs further apart. "Look how swollen your clit is. I just…"

“Oh.” Your hands scramble to his head, squealing when he presses several messy kisses into your cunt.

“Okay?” he asks as he slips one then two fingers inside you—your hips buck, rocking against his mouth. "I just need to taste you."

“Yes,” you hiss—barely audible over how loud your pulse thumps in your ears. Every other word is yes, or oh, only capable of little thought unless it consisted of Atsumu.

He doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking around his ears, and from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his chin is absolutely covered in you—his face sticky-wet and shiny. Soaked. He presses one more lingering kiss against your clit, and makes a soft noise in the back of his throat when you eagerly arch against his mouth.

"Do I need a condom?" he asks while tugging down his boxers, breathless. Desperate.

You think about the ones Kay shoved into your purse, untouched and waiting—how she will likely call you an idiot later.

But that’s a future problem.

Right now, you’re too focused on how his cock slides heavily against your slit—looking bigger and more intimidating than it ever did through the tiny screen on your phone.

“Sweetheart, do I—”

“No, no, please just—”

You’ve barely finished speaking before Atsumu lunges forward and knocks you back against the mattress. His mushroom tip catches on your entrance, and then he thrusts in, slowly, right to the hilt, until you can feel the downy hairs that cover the base of his cock.

You gasp at the stretch, the sheer feeling of fullness, barely conscious of how your walls flutter around him.

“Shit,” he whines, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face between your breasts as he begins to fuck you deep.

He murmurs little praises into your throat, letting you know how tight and wet you are, asking, “there?” when he feels your toes curl. “Like that?” When you shiver and clench down hard.

“Y-yes,” you sob, head falling back against the sheets.

"I want you to moan my name. Loud enough for me to hear this time.” A little smile spreads across his lips when your breath hitches.

“I—”

"I know, sweetheart,” he says, his breath hot and damp against your neck. “I've heard you moan my name before when you thought you were being quiet.”

You squirm beneath him as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Go on,” he hisses. “Nice and loud for me."

Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders, stomach clenching, doing exactly what he told you to do as you shatter around him. You cum with his name on your tongue and hiccupping around quick breaths.

“F-feels so fucking good.” He lets out a long, low groan as he grasps you tight, his fingers digging into your ass and back. His hips stutter, jerking deeper inside you, and you feel him, tacky-wet and dripping between your thighs.

He drops down on top of you, panting and tucking his face into your neck. You card your fingers through his damp hair and lightly scratch his scalp.

After a moment, he opens his eyes, lazily chasing your mouth for a kiss.

“We should do that again,” he mumbles. “With my phone this time. For later.”

When you giggle, he smiles against your lips.

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