Archive of Our Own

Toji has as much experience painting others’ nails as you’d expect, which amounts to none. The image of him sitting patiently with a tiny tube of glittery pink polish between his scarred fingers borders on hilarious, and yet.

When Megumi comes to him wearing nothing but a borrowed (see: stolen) shirt of his and those funny black socks that go up to his thighs and wrap around the sole of his feet, shuffling uncharacteristically and asking if Toji will do his toes for him, he can’t do much but say yes. Megumi has this serrated little tone to his voice like he’s demanding him to, but Toji knows it’s his way of asking for them to spend time with each other, as he’s wont to do. Megumi can never quite voice his needs, express his want for attention, and Toji’s learned to read his cues and meet him in between. 

Nothing is quite as effective at melting through the man as this, so he silently slides off the couch to sit on the floor, setting aside the bottle he’d been nursing and lowering the TV, showing Megumi he’s ready to give him his undivided attention. When he just stares, Toji pats his spread legs on the carpet, offering up his lap for the boy to rest his feet on.

Megumi huffs but walks in, tossing the polish into his lap before taking his place in front of him. The shirt pools between his thighs as he sits, preventing Toji from seeing if he’s got anything else underneath. He stretches his legs out and rests one foot on his lap, making himself at home.

Toji picks up the bottle and tries the cap, screwing his nose at the strong smell. It’s jet black, glinting as he tilts it this way and that, nearly getting a drop on his jeans. “You know I've never done this shit before, right?” he asks, because it’s only fair for him to check.

He gets a shrug from Megumi as he settles down, like he doesn’t really care – and it seems easy enough, a repetitive motion of up and down until he fills in his nails, much like coloring a book. He’s watched Megumi do that plenty before, it shouldn’t be too hard. 

He soon discovers it’s actually much harder than that. The brush is soft, way too small for his hand, and sticking to the corners turns out to be pretty much impossible. He keeps getting the stuff on Megumi’s skin, making the corners all messy – but the kid keeps wiggling his toes in Toji’s lap to make it harder for him and laughing at the way he frowns deeply in concentration, and that he enjoys. Plus, Megumi is the one who will have to walk around like this. His toes, his problem.

The last pinky proves to be a problem. Toji has to hold Megumi’s dainty fucking ankle in his palm, jokingly threatening to squeeze if Megumi doesn’t sit still, which of course the brat doesn’t. He’s started squirming and trying to keep his knees locked together, and Toji is too engrossed in his job for all this shifting.

To make matters worse, the kid has slowly worked his free leg between his thighs. The freshly painted nails glisten as he slithers his foot up the inside of his pant leg, finally stopping once he reaches the front of his jeans.

Toji barely notices. It’s actually impressive, but Megumi wants a reaction out of him. Wants so badly to break that focus. 

He kneads the fabric under the arch of his foot, biting his lip as he waits for what he knows is coming. 

As expected, his father’s hand jerks and the polish goes way off course. He laughs at the cold slide of the brush up his instep, reflexively pulling his foot back at the feeling.

Toji clicks his tongue and pulls, yanking Megumi closer by the leg. He makes a startled little noise, hands clutching at the carpet by his sides to keep his balance and avoid toppling onto his back.

“Squirmy, aren’t you?” Toji complains, holding his foot steady. He's not going back to finish his task, instead just sitting there like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The polish is definitely going to dry up and become useless like this, but Megumi has more important things to worry about now. Like the way Toji’s brows slowly rise as it clicks in his head, before he questions, “What about this is getting you hot ‘n bothered, exactly?”

It's a jab, but Megumi lets it roll off him. He readjusts his position, and if the grip Toji has on his ankle just means he has to spread his legs open to bend his knees comfortably, well.

“I don't know what you mean?” he deflects. Toji answers with a more incredulous look. 

It twitches and breaks when Megumi smirks back at him, wiggling his foot harder. He can feel his efforts paying off already, Toji’s bulge growing under his ministrations. 

He’s rewarded beautifully. Toji clicks his tongue again but drops the little brush on the carpet to reach down instead. He lays his palm over Megumi's foot with a deceptively soft and patient grip, pushing it down. He feels the fabric twitch underneath the friction and it makes something nervous and weak flutter in his chest in response, the way touching Toji always does.

“Really, you don’t?” Toji’s voice has its own demanding tone, but his is worse than Megumi’s could ever be –  it’s practiced, honed into its own fine weapon, and his low register vibrates up Megumi's spine. “Then, you’re not trying to get in my pants?” he chuckles when Megumi’s eyes immediately drop down, hungry. “Yeah? Sure y’don’t want this?”

Toji lifts his foot up to brace against his stomach and reaches down to thumb his buttons open. He drags the zipper down painfully slowly, taunting him until Megumi feels his mouth water. When he finally reaches into his boxers to pull himself out, he’s half-hard and flushed. The head is a shiny pink, just begging for attention, and Megumi considers for a moment crawling onto his knees to mouth at it instead.

He stands his ground, trying to reach his foot down again. Toji holds him, humming a little admonishing mm-mm .

“Say please , baby. I taught you better manners than that, didn’t I?”

That’s a low blow and he’s sure Toji knows it, knows like the back of his hand the thrill it sends up his spine – just as Megumi knows he won’t get anywhere until he does as he’s told. So he huffs out a breath and frowns, but opens his mouth anyway.

“Please.” he grumbles. Then, quietly: “Please, dad?”

It's his own cheap trick. It never fails.

Toji squeezes his foot once before letting go. He's still sitting up with Megumi's other ankle loosely held in his hand and it makes his balance a little awkward, but he can work with this. He braces himself back on his hands and lets his eyes travel down the path his heel traces, avoiding looking up and catching the eyes burning holes into his head, because if he meets Toji’s unwavering stare it will make him break out in a cold sweat.

He tugs Toji’s pants down crudely, as much as he can with his toes, and when they’re finally around his thighs Megumi points his black toes out and flattens his foot over the curved length. The black socks make the flushed skin stand out in contrast, his wet toes catching the light as he plays around, licking his lips when he feels it twitch under his heel. It's got a little tilt to the left, a vein running down the side. Megumi’s studied it in detail, with his hands and his tongue, and he maps them all out for the first time again.

It’s harder than it looks in porn, that’s for sure. He strokes up and down the length as best as he can, pressing in until Toji hisses or squeezes his hand, then moves up to the head with the flat of his foot again. He can’t believe he’s into this, but the spot between his own legs is undeniably aching the more he watches, the more he gets Toji’s eyelids to flutter, his breath to shake.

He realizes he’s gotten a little too into it when Toji breaks him out of his daze by pulling his other ankle closer. Into his–

“Woah, hey.” he protests, going still. He tries weakly to pull out of his hold, but it’s no use. Toji brings his unoccupied foot to his mouth, maintaining eye contact the entire time, making Megumi squirm as he feels the wet warmth envelop his big toe. He doesn’t know if he likes it, but it’s not entirely unpleasant either. Still he hisses out an alarmed, “Toji!”

The man chuckles, pulling off with a quiet pop. “What? You’ve got your foot on my cock, but I can’t get my mouth on yours?” he sneers.

Megumi kind of wants to kick him on the dick for that, but Toji opens his mouth with a mocking laugh, breath fanning out over the spit-slick skin, and licks up the side of his foot until he reaches his ankle, pausing to nip the spot. Megumi can squirm all he wants, but he has nowhere to escape. 

“Come on blessing, don’t stop now,” he speaks into the skin, turning to hold it to his cheek. His eyes are molten when he meets Megumi's. “Make daddy come, won’t you?”

Megumi knows he’s trying to get a rise out of him, plying him with sweetly uttered names to try and downplay awakening another sick little discovery, but they both know this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. They’re familiar with this game, and he can meet Toji halfway too, when he wants to.

He lays his foot flat over the now weeping head of Toji’s cock and grinds into it, only letting up when the man hisses in pain, running his foot all the way down to his balls and back up again. He flattens it over his entire erection, eyes flying up to Toji’s face when he feels his hips shift and lift into it. His cockhead is wet, leaving a sticky trail on the fabric and easing the slide more with each small thrust. He can imagine the mess Toji’s leaving behind but he doesn’t mind, running the edge of his sock over the head, smearing the precome under his toes.

He’s so mesmerized by Toji’s knitting eyebrows and red-bitten lips that he offers little help, making his climb to orgasm slow and tortuous with what little stimulation his fondling offers, but it must still feel good enough. One moment Toji’s turning his head to gasp open-mouthed over the tender skin of his ankle, hips slowly rutting up, and the next he’s squeezing his hands and biting out a gasp, back curving as his cock pulses and he shoots come all over Megumi’s foot, his own jeans, the carpet. He watches it soak into the fabric, mouth dropping open like he’s the one who just came. His body is also very confused, cunt aching like one small touch of his hand would be enough to get him there.

Megumi lets go of the breath he didn’t realize he’d trapped in his chest. His heart is pounding, and it doesn’t slow as Toji slowly lets go of his ankle and licks his lips, coming down from the high.

He sucks in a breath, red-faced and spent. “Fuck.” he pants, still in utter disbelief. Then, “shit baby, c’mere.” 

He pulls until Megumi's sitting on his lap, legs immediately wrapping around his waist. His sensitive cock is trapped between them, but the fabric covering Megumi's thighs is soft and forgiving. He’s also running so warm, and has definitely soaked through the damn thing.

Toji ignores all of that for now, trying to hide in his expression just how much he wants to tear a hole through those to instead act disgruntled. “D’you know how hard it’s gonna be to get this shit off the carpet?”

Megumi laughs at him, squirming in his lap. “I'm rubbing my nails off on it right now.” he tells him.

Toji tries hard not to laugh at his antics, but it’s a losing game. He holds Megumi’s middle and sends him back onto the floor, getting his sticky little nails away from the carpet before he ruins it even more, because the brat clearly can’t be trusted. 

He slots nicely between Megumi's legs, and this way he can rut his spent cock into the wet little patch of fabric protecting him. Toji wonders how much effort he’ll even need to tear them with his hands, but knows it probably won’t take much. 

He’s already planning on it, mouth watering at the thought of molding his lips around Megumi’s pretty little cock with nothing in his way and keeping his head buried between his squeezing thighs until he’s sufficiently reprimanded for making Toji come all over himself like a damn teenager.

He leans down to press his lips to the soft side of his neck, hands already crawling up his thighs and under the shirt concealing what’s his to take. “Guess I just gotta teach you a lesson, huh?”