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[{ 🖤Click to see the art for this piece, by the amazing Sho. 🖤}]
It'd been a damn long day.
The clock hadn't even struck eight, and yet Toji swayed slightly as he slugged along the familiar sidewalk that led to his ill-maintained home. He had come from a day at the race track—one that had started well, only to crash and burn when he started losing bet after bet. Leave it to him to know how to pick the worst of them. One day, he promised to himself, he'd do a bit more legwork to figure out which horses to actually risk his money on.
Until then, it was blind picks and gut feel… even though his gut hadn't really had the best track record of getting things right.
Toji stopped to lean against a lamp post, his breath visible in the cold night air. It made him pause for a moment, surprised somehow that it had already gotten that cold. He'd forgotten what day it was, maybe even what month it was, if he were honest. His body didn't feel cold anyway, the alcohol coursing through his veins enough to stave off the chill as he dug into his pockets for his crumpled box of cigarettes.
With a gruff sigh, Toji slipped it out of his pants along with his Zippo. He flipped the lid open with a quick flick of his wrist, striking its flint right as he slipped a stick of Marlboro Red between his lips. He watched as the smoke began to filter from the embers, pocketing the box and the lighter on autopilot as he sucked in the first drag of his cigarette. He nearly went cross-eyed as a fleck of white slowly fell from the sky and landed on the tip of his nose—the first snow of December, marking the beginning of the holiday season.
Toji brushed it off his nose and pushed himself off the lamp post, deciding to start the walk back to his house. He wasn't dressed appropriately for the weather, and his cozy leather couch seemed like a good idea. He had a thick wool blanket waiting for him there, enough to warm him up. Unfortunately, he'd lost too much money today to use the heating. He and Megumi would simply have to—
Megumi.
Toji paused in his footsteps, looking up from the wet sidewalk toward his house at the end of the street. His daughter—no, his son—would be in there by now, probably in his room doing homework. Toji sucked in another deep breath, ignoring the massive cloud of condensation when he huffed it out in a frustrated sigh. He forged ahead, footsteps feeling leaden as he took his keys out of his pockets, letting their jingling hypnotize and calm him as he made his way home.
He was there sooner than he knew it, unlocking the front door and shutting it behind himself, then locking it along with the multiple bolts to keep anyone and everyone out. He had creditors after him, legitimate and… not so legitimate. He made sure to keep the lights as dim as possible to make it seem like no one was home.
Toji barely had the mind to kick his shoes off before he crashed onto the couch, yanking his blanket over his body. His leather jacket wasn't the comfiest when he sat like this, but it was better than being cold. Now that he was inside, it felt like the outside chill had followed him in.
Despite all the people he was trying to dodge and hide from, Toji was a creature of habit. And so, in the next few moments, the television was on, his hand was wrapped around the neck of one of his favorite bottles of rum, and he was back to watching another horse race.
He was finally beginning to relax… except his pocket started vibrating.
First, it was one message. And then it was another, and another. He ignored each one, hoping that whoever it was would give up and leave him alone. Much to his disappointment, his phone started ringing instead.
Gritting his teeth, Toji took the phone from his pocket and turned it off, tossing it to the opposite end of the couch. He put his feet up on the coffee table right as he brought his bottle to his lips, taking a nice, big, swig of his spiced rum.
His creditors were after him again, and he couldn't really do anything about it. The odd job he'd had lined up for the day fell through at the last minute, which was how he found himself at the race track in the first place. He'd simply have to find something else. Maybe a security gig. Maybe an underground fight or two.
Whatever it was, he had to come up with something, and fast. He wouldn't have cared much if it were just him, but with Megumi around… he needed to at least make sure the power stayed on, and that his kid had somewhere to lay his head at night.
Toji turned his attention back to the television just to get himself out of his head. Guilt never led him to anything good, and thinking about the shit happening in his life just made everything worse. Another swig of alcohol was in order, just as he picked a horse to 'bet' on as another race began on the screen. His grip on his bottle tightened as the gunshot signaled the race's start, and he leaned forward slightly where he sat as his eyes followed his horse in its lane.
It started fast out of the gate, ridden by a jockey who seemed to know what he was doing. Toji allowed his lips to curl up in a small smirk—maybe he actually picked a winner this time. "Come on," He murmured under his breath, fixated. He cheered as his horse pulled ahead, only to slam his fist onto the armrest when another took the lead. "Come on, you piece of shit," he called out, gesturing at his television as his horse fell further behind.
Just his luck. Even when he wasn't betting any money, he still couldn't win.
Toji grumbled and took another swig of his bottle, losing himself in the taste and the burn of the rum as it traveled down his throat. He threw the blanket off himself, the liquor doing enough to warm his body more as he slunk further into his seat, finally allowing himself to really get comfortable. He lit another cigarette and slipped his jacket off, sparing a glance toward the hallway where he knew Megumi's door would be. Was his daugh—was his son home? He hadn't heard a peep.
Keys jingling in the front door's lock were Toji's answer.
He heard the lock click, then the knob turn, only for Megumi to crash into the bolted door with a hissed "Ow!"
Toji nearly startled when he heard the aggressive knocking that followed. "Daddy!" The teenager yelled from outside, "I know you're in there, the door's only ever bolted when you're home!"
"Quiet down, I'm fucking coming," Toji called out with a grumble, placing his bottle down on the wooden end table. It clacked hard against the surface, making him pause for a second to check whether the bottle had cracked. He took a deep drag from his cigarette and placed it in the ashtray, intending to come back to it in a moment.
Convinced it was safe, Toji slowly got himself back up onto his feet, stopping for a second to stop the room swaying before he finally began the slow trudge to the front door.
"Daddy, come on, it's cold out here!"
"Yeah, yeah, you can wait a minute," Toji mumbled out as he finally made it to the door, fumbling fingers unlatching the bolts one by one. He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, flinching at the sudden, sobering rush of cold that hit his face.
"Move, it's fucking freezing," Megumi said as he pushed past his father to head inside, leaving Toji to stand by the door.
Toji stood stunned, watching the flurry of movement as Megumi dropped his bag and kicked his shoes off by the entrance.
"And shut the door, it's cold enough in here as it is!"
Toji flinched, as if suddenly brought back into consciousness. The slow curl of cold around the nape of his neck was enough to encourage him to do as he was told, shutting the door and bolting it all back up. He still didn't move from where he stood, instead following his son around with his eyes.
"How many packs today, daddy?" Megumi fanned his hand over his face, nose wrinkled at the smell. The scent of alcohol in the air was stronger than usual, drowned out only by the constant waft of cigarette smoke in the air. His dad had forgotten to crack a window again. Megumi walked over to the living room windows, opening one just a sliver to make sure that at least some of the smell cleared out.
Toji snorted. All this fuss about the cold only for Megumi to let it in himself was somehow just funny in his drunken state.
"None of your business," Toji grumbled, though the overflowing ashtray on the end table did all the talking for him. In his defense, those cigarettes had been there since the morning. He'd only had the chance to smoke two so far that night. Speaking of which—Toji half stumbled his way back onto the sofa, just in time to catch another puff of his lit cigarette before he had to put it out.
Megumi heaved a dramatic sigh and started bending over to pick up the cans of beer and trash scattered on the ground. This was just part of life for him—picking up after his father was a daily occurrence he had to deal with if he wanted a somewhat livable home.
Toji watched as Megumi found a plastic bag on the floor that he then started stuffing with trash, brows furrowed in frustration as he looked around. Megumi hadn't done this in a few days, which meant there was more to pick up than usual. The teen did it in silence, with only the crinkling of the bag and the TV droning on in the background. Toji was quiet too, except for his slightly ragged breath.
Megumi shivered; he could feel his daddy's eyes on him, the way they followed his every movement. He was quick when he needed to bend down and pick something up, and even quicker when he had to be anywhere near touching distance from Toji.
Not that Toji would've reached out to do anything. Not that he would've reached out to touch. No, he was too busy openly staring, his eyes taking in the sight of Megumi without really taking him in. Toji's thoughts were elsewhere, in a much more troubling place. They were the kind that Toji fought himself on often, the kind he drank about most days.
The kind where he was undressing Megumi with his eyes, taking off one item of clothing after another, until his daughter was down to the frilly panties he used to wear.
Once in a while, when Megumi ran out of clean laundry, he'd wear those pantiest still—and Toji knew because in the past few months, he'd developed a habit of going into Megumi's room to look for them.
God, those days were the worst, but they were also the best. He'd lock himself in his room and hold the cottony, lacy things to his face as he gave himself the best orgasms he'd had in a while.
Then of course he'd feel so guilty he'd get himself blackout drunk… but that was a different issue he'd have to deal with.
Yes, Fushiguro Toji was a mess.
And yes, he couldn't do anything about it—especially not when his son's leg nudged against his own knee as Megumi walked over to the end table, picking up the ashtray so he could go and empty it outside. The action brought him a little too close to Toji, making the drunken man freeze as he looked up at his son.
Toji couldn't help it. He reached over to grab Megumi by his wrist, his grip a little too tight for comfort. Megumi jolted in surprise, making a mess as he spilled some of the ash and cigarette butts from the tray. "Daddy!" He whined and kicked Toji's foot in complaint, looking over at his father as he waited for the man to say what he wanted to say.
Toji didn't say anything. Instead, emerald green eyes bore holes into Megumi, saying every word he couldn't quite vocalize. He devoured his son with his gaze—his son, who until not even a year ago was his daughter. His sweet princess who took care of him and made sure he ate, made sure he always fell asleep on his side so he didn't suffocate when he was drunk.
Megumi shifted uncomfortably. Something wasn't right. The voice in his head, the feelings in his gut, they all told him to go into his bedroom and lock himself there for the rest of the night.
They stayed like this for a while, Megumi daring his daddy to say what he wanted to say, and Toji's eyes sweeping over Megumi, lingering a little too long at his chest and the crotch of his size-too-small pants.
Eventually, Megumi managed to pull himself away, mumbling to himself as he walked outside to get rid of the ash. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up; he could feel Toji's gaze following him the whole way.
Megumi walked back to where he'd spilled the ash, sucking it all up into the handheld vacuum he'd saved up for, for occasions just like this.
Toji watched his son with interest, more interest than he'd given even the television behind him. The horse race didn't matter now, not when Megumi was on all fours in front of him, crawling around the floor as he tried to clean more of the mess Toji had made. Toji's hands itched to touch, and touch he did—he reached over, grabbing Megumi by his hips, pulling him onto his lap.
Whatever dam Toji had built to hold back all of these feelings had cracked. The full force of his undeniably wrong desire for his son was pressed right against the concrete, a constant pressure that threatened to overflow at any second.
"Daddy, I'm too old to be on your lap," Megumi instantly complained, squirming to get away. He didn't notice the way Toji's hands clenched in his effort to keep them where they rested, right on Megumi's hips. He didn't notice the way Toji's cock twitched in interest in his pants.
Toji was frozen. He hadn't exactly thought beyond what he wanted after he got his son on his lap; all he knew was he wanted Megumi there. The squirming, well—it had him clenching his jaw and curling his toes against the floor, a last ditch effort to hold onto his control.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," Megumi announced, eager to get himself away from the awkward situation. Toji just grunted in response, grabbing his rum bottle by its neck. Megumi could only sigh as he heard his father take another long, heavy swig.
Toji did his best to ignore the sound of Megumi moving around the small house. He even tried to turn away so he wouldn't catch any glimpses of his son out of the corner of his eye. Now that Megumi had gone off to his room, probably to disappear for the rest of the night, Toji's guilt—the deep, deep hole he'd dug himself into—collapsed in on him. He felt trapped, lost, and the worst part was that he wanted more.
The nearly empty bottle of rum became his crutch; he chugged from it until he couldn't extract another drop.
With his tolerance as high as it was, the last bit of the alcohol wasn't quite enough to get Toji blackout drunk, much to his despair. But he was nearly there, and that… was close enough.
Toji flinched when he heard Megumi's door open, then shut. He'd hoped that Megumi wouldn't come back out of his bedroom, but there the boy was, walking back out and heading to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat.
Despite his better senses telling him not to look, Toji turned his head and caught a glance of his son, towel still wrapped around his head like a turban.
Toji's mind immediately filled with memories of Megumi not even a year ago, his hair still long, his clothes still flowery and flowy and undeniably girly. He felt a pang of emotion in his chest, one he couldn't quite identify. It was enough to make him reach for his bottle again, gripping around its neck only to remember it was empty.
The bottle clinked uselessly against the floor as Toiji let go of it, allowing it to topple over and roll a few feet away. He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingernails now digging divots into his palms as the memory played out in his head.
Daddy, I think… I think I'm a boy.
It hadn't been easy for Toji to accept it. In fact, he didn't even feel like he'd accepted it; not with the way that he still clung on to the last vestiges of his Megumi's girlhood. But he'd loved his son just the same even after that confession. Maybe even more today—but in the most fucked up of ways.
Toji forced himself to swallow down his feelings as he tried to focus on the television. He could hear Megumi puttering around, busy boiling water for the ramen he was going to make. It reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet himself, stomach growling as if to be noticed. Toji ignored it, of course. Instead, he glanced back over at his son, only for his heart to drop to his stomach at the sight he finally took in.
When his eyes flitted from the towel turban and followed the long, graceful lines of Megumi's neck and shoulders, Toji found that his son was wearing his clothes.
Megumi had on a pair of too-big sweatpants and a loose shirt—both Toji's. Toji knew the only reason for that could be that they needed to do laundry, but his mind had already raced off elsewhere. Somewhere it could no longer come back from.
It was as if that dam he'd built, brick by brick, finally met its critical failure.
All of the feelings he'd held back for months came to a boil, breaching the last of his self control.
Toji sucked in a sharp breath, his vision going fuzzy for a minute until he eventually realized he needed to breathe. He let out the gasp he was holding and was on his feet in the next instant, crossing into the kitchen in a few long, unsteady strides.
The next thing Toji knew, he was right behind his son, pressed up against him as he grabbed the boy by his hips once more. Megumi's gasp in surprise tickled something within Toji, something that made him tighten his grip even further.
Megumi started trying to wriggle out of his daddy's grasp, just barely managing to pull himself away to get back to his cooking.
"You always get like this when you're drunk," Megumi grumbled, shoving his father away as he brandished a pair of cooking chopsticks in the man's direction. But of course, Toji barely budged, big and bulky as he was.
The alcohol was too much this time around. Coupled with seeing his son in his own clothes, Toji finally and completely lost himself. He grabbed Megumi by his wrists and pinned him right against the kitchen counter, caught between Toji's body and the hard surface.
"Daddy!" Megumi practically shrieked, immediately trying to squirm out from between. The only thing he succeeded at was pressing his ass right up against Toji's crotch. What he found there made him freeze, eyes going wide as saucers. His grip on the edges of the counter tightened. Why was his daddy hard, and why was he grabbing him like this?
Megumi tried desperately to spin around in his father's grasp, to face him in a vain attempt to separate their bodies. But every movement only served to magnify Toji's arousal, to start him throbbing in his pants. The older let out a grunt as he buried his face in the crook of Megumi's neck, breathing him in. Toji savored the foresty scent of his son's body wash, the one Megumi had insisted on switching to not so long ago.
"If you ask me, I liked the sakura scent better on you," Toji mumbled, lips brushing against Megumi's skin with every slurred word. He swayed slightly on his feet, glad that he could support his weight on the counter or he might've collapsed in a heap.
"I don't care what you liked—" Megumi's voice sounded panicked now, "Get off me!"
Toji could only chuckle. In the back of his mind, a voice was yelling, screaming at him about how wrong all of this was. Whatever was left of his conscience was begging him to pull away, to leave his Megumi alone.
But the devil on his shoulder had won.
In one fell swoop, Toji was on his knees, and Megumi's sweatpants were pooled around his feet. Megumi yelped, trying fruitlessly to reach for his pants to pull them back up. But Toji's grip on his hips was too strong, and all he could do was whimper as tears finally began rolling down his face.
Toji barely registered Megumi's whimpers. He barely even noticed how his son's body shuddered with the force of his sobs. Instead, he pulled Megumi's hips further away from the counter, forcing the boy to bend and support his weight against its surface. The action knocked a metal bowl off, making it clang jarringly as it crashed onto the floor. Toji winced but didn't let the discomfort distract him from his one, singular focus: nudging his son's legs apart to reveal his prize.
With a groan, Toji took in the sight. For a second, he wished he was sober so he could actually see everything clearly—Megumi's pussy was too pretty not to admire, yet here he was barely able to keep himself from going crosseyed. In an effort to help his vision, Toji moved his thumb and swiped it over his son's slit, from hole to clit. He bit back a laugh as Megumi shivered, then did his best to force his legs together. Toji put a stop to that immediately, moving his hands to grip the back of Megumi's thighs, keeping his legs spread open.
"You're shaved," Toji observed, more to himself than anything. It was the only thing he could manage to say before temptation overwhelmed him. He gave in, leaning in to press his nose into Megumi's cunt. Megumi smelled clean from his shower, with only the barest hint of the musk Toji knew too well. It was almost a shame, really… but he'd make do.
"Daddy, p-please, stop," Megumi tried again, voice shaking as he begged. Unfortunately for him, all of his begging fell on deaf ears—Toji was intent on taking what he wanted now, even if it meant destroying his son.
"Don't worry baby, I'll make you feel real good," Toji slurred, right as he slipped his tongue between Megumi's folds. He groaned at the first taste, his head spinning at the mix of exhilaration and horror he felt. But he'd gone too far now, there was no coming back anymore.
So he pressed his tongue deeper, burying it in his son's virgin hole.
"No!" Megumi shrieked, thrashing against the counter as he tried to pull away. His body shuddered with a fresh wave of sobs, his cries still falling on his father's unhearing ears. He reached down to try to swat Toji's hands away, only for Toji to grab him by the wrist.
Toji knew he was too far gone. He had no idea what he'd do when he woke from this nightmare in the morning, but for now… for now he flattened his tongue, dragging it over Megumi's slit. He did this once, twice, then flicked the tip of his tongue against Megumi's clit. Megumi jolted at the sudden spike of pleasure, whimpering and biting the back of his hand to stubbornly keep himself quiet. He didn't want to give his daddy the satisfaction of knowing he was feeling good. None of this was good.
But Toji wasn't blind, and he wasn't deaf either. He'd had enough bodies beneath him to know every sign of pleasure. Every twitch and jolt, every twist and shiver. There was no mistaking how he'd just made his son feel.
Toji sighed in relief as he hoved his own pants down, letting them gather around his thighs, He wore no underwear, as was his habit, so he was finally able to free his cock from its tight confines. He left it alone then, instead leaning in to lap at Megumi's clit, to lick and flick and nibble until his son turned into putty in his hands.
Megumi had become a complete mess of tears and snot and spit. But he couldn't think straight anymore, not with his mind clouded by the intense new sensations between his legs. He'd played with himself before, countless times really, but those moments hardly compared to the way his daddy expertly tongued at his most sensitive of places. It wasn't long before his body responded, his knees turning to jelly and his core heating up like a furnace. He squeezed his eyes shut at the wet squelch of his cunt, clearly audible in the tiny space between them.
"Daddy…" Megumi cried, tears still spilling freely down his cheeks. But this time, he wasn't quite sure if he was asking Toji to stop, or if he was asking him not to. Megumi shivered, but now he'd gone still, no longer squirming or flailing in an effort to buck his father off him.
Toji's only response was to bury his tongue deeper into his son, desperate for more of the sweet nectar he'd finally gotten to taste. He moaned as he fucked Megumi with his tongue, eager to turn the boy into even more of a writhing mess by his hands.
It didn't take much. Megumi, inexperienced as he was, couldn't handle everything his daddy gave him all at once. The thumb mercilessly rubbing circles onto his clit, the tongue relentlessly thrusting into him—it all started a throbbing at his core that grew and grew until it overwhelmed him. Soon Megumi's whimpers grew louder, louder, echoing in the room and bouncing off the walls as he called for his daddy again and again.
Toji gripped Megumi's thighs tighter as he felt the way his son's hole clenched around his tongue, tighter and tighter, over and over. It made him even hungrier, made him double his efforts until he heard Megumi's shrill shriek. Megumi tensed up, his toes curling as his body shook in the best orgasm he'd ever had. He sobbed all the way through it, collapsing onto the countertop once it'd torn its way through.
Toji couldn't take it anymore. He was back on his feet in the next moment, squeezing his eyes shut as the room spun around him. He leaned forward, pressing himself against Megumi's back to ground himself in reality. Their chests heaved in unison—like father, like son. Toji let his cock rest heavy between Megumi's cheeks, enough to feel the boy's sinful flesh against his own.
The feeling of his daddy's cock against his skin was enough to make Megumi's eyes turn to saucers. He gasped and froze completely, scared that if he moved Toji would see it as an invitation. He was curious, god he wanted to know what it would feel like inside him, but this was wrong. So, so wrong. And he wasn't drunk, he knew fathers shouldn't be doing this with their sons.
Megumi whimpered when Toji began rocking his hips, enjoying the feel of his bare skin. Toji was so desperate he was leaking from the tip, leaving smears of pre wherever the head of his cock touched Megumi. The wet spots were cold by comparison, making Megumi shiver and press back against Toji wanting to feel warm, consequences be damned.
Toji inhaled sharply when he felt Megumi push back against him. In his alcohol-addled mind, it meant only one thing: his son wanted him. Megumi wanted him inside.
"I'll be gentle," Toji promised, pressing soft kisses onto the nape of Megumi's neck. Megumi could only close his eyes, his hands clenching into fists. Maybe it'd go fast. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe it'd feel good like his daddy's tongue—maybe tomorrow they could go back to the way things were. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Megumi hissed when he felt his daddy's cock notch against his entrance. This was it, no going back now.
"Da—" Megumi couldn't finish, his words interrupted by his own gasp when Toji finally began pushing in. It felt good, it hurt, it felt good again—Megumi couldn't decide. His mind spun as his daddy kept pushing in, slowly, gently like he'd promised. God, he'd never felt so full in his life. So full and yet so empty, like there was now a void inside of him only Toji could fill.
Toji shuddered as he bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside his son with nothing in between them. He grunted as Megumi's virgin hole fluttered and twitched around him, no doubt trying to get used to being split wide open. He leaned down, planting soothing kisses over Megumi's neck and shoulder, trying to get his son to relax.
Megumi couldn't help the way his whole body tensed, not when his daddy's cock was inside him so deep he could feel it in his lungs. He could never reach that far with his fingers. He couldn't even reach that far with the handle of his hairbrush. No, this was all new, all new and just between them. It was fucked up, he didn't want it, he wanted it—
Megumi couldn't tell anymore.
And Toji, he couldn't help himself. He started moving, rutting his hips into his son slowly and carefully. He moved just like that for a moment or two, savoring the tightness around him, the heat engulfing consuming him whole. There were no words between them, not anymore; not with their bodies doing the talking.
Megumi's breathing grew heavier with each thrust, his body adjusting to the intrusion and welcoming it with open arms. Every movement whited out his vision, making him arch against the counter and press his hips backward for more.
Toji was happy to oblige, his hips speeding up as he started thrusting with abandon, confident his son could take it. The gasps and moans were enough to tell him he was right. Megumi was soaked now, his cunt squelching with every thrust as Toji hilted himself repeatedly. And Megumi, he'd given in, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back as he gasped needily for air.
"Waited for so long for my baby girl," Toji murmured to himself, tongue licking along the shell of Megumi's ear, "And now you're here," He grunted out, hands sliding up Megumi's sides to rest on the small peaks on the boy's chest.
"Shut the fuck up," Megumi hissed out—if he was going to take this he was going to do it in silence.
Toji chuckled and bit his tongue as he was told, letting his forehead rest against the nape of Megumi's neck. And that was how they stayed, rutting and moving together, until Megumi's moans started growing louder and louder.
"D-daddy—daddy I—" Megumi gasped out, unable to complete his thought. It was too much now, the pleasure mounting higher and higher as his daddy just kept hitting that spot. He trembled, his body tensing like a bowstring pulled to its limit. One flick of Toji's thumb against his clit was all it took for him to snap—Megumi let out a guttural groan, primal needy. And then he was shaking violently, clenching so hard around Toji he pushed his cock right out.
"Daddy—!" Megumi cried out, his body involuntarily lifting him onto the tips of his toes as he came, squirting a fountain all over himself, all over Toji, all over the floor.
"Fuck!" Toji groaned, stroking himself just a few times before he came as well, painting the pale skin of Megumi's back with his spend.
Toji didn't even get a moment to recover before Megumi was kicking and then shoving him off, leveling him with the angriest look he'd ever seen on that beautiful, messy face. He turned to lean against the counter, supporting his own weight by his elbows as he fought to catch his breath.
"If you're going to fucking do that to me, the least you could do is call me your son," Megumi's voice was venom, spat right at Toji's face. The teenager didn't wait for a reply, instead limping back into his own bedroom on shaky legs.
Toji sank to the ground like a bag of bones, punctuated by the sound of Megumi's door slamming shut.