A Silly Ask And I'm Kinda Surprised No One Has Done This Yet And I Like Your Writing So I'm Sending It

A silly ask and I'm kinda surprised no one has done this yet and I like your writing so I'm sending it to you but basically fem reader and toji on an episode on maury :3

WHO’S YOUR DADDY? — toji fushiguro

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n: the way this has sat in the drafts for well over a year, loved writing this btw, thanks anon!

A Silly Ask And I'm Kinda Surprised No One Has Done This Yet And I Like Your Writing So I'm Sending It

it’s no secret that toji has his doubts about whether megumi is his.

but you’re officially over going back and forth with him. especially when he still owes you child support that he refuses to pay until you show him valid proof that megumi is his son.

and what better way to give him that confirmation that he desires than on the messiest show on daytime television, in front of a live studio audience.

“for those who have joined us after the break, today we are joined by y/n, who claims that her ex boyfriend toji is pretending to act like he isn’t the father to their two year old son megumi so he doesn’t have to pay child support.”

the camera pans to you and toji sat a few feet away from each other. you can tell that he thinks this whole thing is a joke from the way he’s slouching in the chair and the constant sarcastic replies he gives maury each time he’s asked a simple question.

“maury how do i know she’s not tryna hustle me outta my hard earned money, huh?” he asks, seemingly thinking that he’s caught you in a tight spot. “besides have you seen the kid? his hair is spiky as fuck, nobody in my family has that hair type.”

the laugh that threatens to leave your lips is almost sickening, using hair as reason to not claim his child was absurd.

it was almost as wild as trying to accuse you of being a good-for-nothing money hungry vulture. which was rich coming from him. considering that your job was practically funding his lifestyle, aside from the large dose of cash he received from his 'work trips’ that cropped up once in a while.

the cash did nothing for you as he spent it as fast as he received it. rather than putting it towards megumi’s trust fund or college fund, he squandered it all on drinking and gambling, especially when it came to the races.

it turns out his charming looks and smiles do not work on the biggest gamble of all time: betting on damn race horses.

but in the rare instance he had some had some heart he contributed towards the bills and groceries. yet that still wasn’t enough.

“when was the last time you paid for megumi’s diapers or his formula or anything related to the apartment, hm?”

you retort, revelling at how all the fight and bravado he once held was slowly seeping out of him, as if he had all of his blood sucked out of him. the host looks expectantly at toji, awaiting a response.

the audience sets off in a chorus of ‘boos’ before toji even has a chance to respond to clear his name. he feels ambushed, the humiliation of admitting to be a terrible father on television creeping up on him.

but what did he expect? he always pushed too hard and now he’s paying the price as you unsurprisingly pushed back even harder.

and of course in the sea of 'boos', there’s a few cheers in the crowd from people who are more interested in getting into his pants instead of the main reason to why you were here in the first place.

“oh and maury if you think i’m lying, i’ve got invoices, bank statements and receipts spanning the last three months.” you add “i can tell you for a fact that this man doesn’t spend a dime on anything—he might as well put on a diaper and sleep in our son's crib.”

"and so what?" toji shrugs, ever so nonchalant. to the degree it pisses you off, he could at least try to act like he cares in front of the camera and the audience.

“i still make it up to you though, don’t i?” he replies, a teasing edge to his tone that has implications that you don’t want to unpack on national television, which was ironic since your business was already out there anyway.

the look on your face is almost murderous, and luckily maury manages to pick up on before this turns into a bloodbath. he quickly perks up as he holds up the manilla envelope that was going to make or break your day.

“In here we have the results of the paternity test, come back after the break!” he says clasping his hand together as you head to the commercial break. immediately you head backstage, grabbing megumi from the staff member who seemed smitten with him.

he latched onto you as you doted on him, before he waddled off to play with his firetrucks that you brought with you in your bag. “he’s getting so big.” a familiar voice says and you turn to see him in the doorway.

“megumi look! daddy’s come back with his tail between his legs because he knows he’s about to be publicly embarrassed on tv!” you say in a mocking voice, pointing out to where toji is standing and he toddles over, smacking his arm as he adorably glowers at his dad.

“bad daddy!” he says and you stop him before he gets out of control and starts to barrel toji with his kicking and slapping. you pull megumi onto your lap trying to calm him down whilst biting back a laugh.

“we don’t hit megumi, unless people deserve it like your daddy.” you tell him softly but you doubt he’s retained any of what you said anyway.

megumi is nestled into your lap, his focus back onto the firetruck that he’s playing with. for his age the kid is incredibly perceptive to the point where it spooks you out.

and if toji feels more like an idiot now, he doesn’t say so.

—

“and we’re back! for those who have just joined us, y/n claims that her ex boyfriend is denying that he’s the father of their child to avoid child support payments.”

the clips of the past half hour play back as you sit down, the manilla envelope in your eye level making your heart race slightly. deep down you knew that he was the father so why was the anticipation making you doubt that?

the crowds cheering and whooping comes to a close once maury grabs hold of the manilla envelope, he opens it, dragging out the grand reveal for dramatic purposes as the suspense builds in the room.

“when it comes to two year old megumi fushiguro, toji… you are the father!” he announces setting off the crowd in a series of cheers. you look over at toji and notice the red flush that covers his neck and ears, a sure tell sign of embarrassment and guilt.

“all i gotta say is that i fucking told you so, hell i didn’t even have to say anything you should’ve known!” you said to him, as he did nothing but take the well deserved lecture from you.

toji felt really fucking stupid, like really stupid but he didn’t want to add to your tirade already, he already wanted to melt of pure embarrassment under the hot studio lights. he really underestimated the lengths you’d go to prove him wrong.

“it’s time to start scrimping and saving, old man. food, clothes and diapers aint cheap. I’m sure your poor race horses will understand right?” you said teasingly, biting back a laugh as you clapped his shoulder.

toji let out an annoyed huff as the sound of your laughter ricocheted in his head, the high from your victory lap still present. he couldn’t be more of a fool if he tried. “haha very funny.” he said drily, despite his head burning, now he owed you and shiu money over his stupid antics.

he knew that as long as the internet and tv were still around, he was never going to live this day down, knowing you’d use this moment to embarrass him and deservedly so.

“i’ve been your host, maury! come back tomorrow where we have suguru and satoru. two former best friends and alleged lovers with satoru claiming that suguru’s affair with the kfc worker ruined their relationship!”

More Posts from Lonely-aqui and Others

lonely-aqui

3 months ago

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)

note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))

“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”

Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.

Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.

A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.

And in that moment, Zayne thought, nothing could've possibly ever shatter his world ever again.

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lonely-aqui

5 years ago