Toji could always tell when you were about to ovulate. His extra heightened senses gave him the advantage of doing so, of smelling the change in you before you yourself even knew.

He usually took full advantage of it. Sniffing you up like a stray dog, sticking his nose over your clothes mound and inhaling the sweet scent like he’s starving.

After a certain point, you’ve caught up to it. Started realizing when you were ovulating in the mere way he looked around you, how his pupils dilated or how his scar twitched with a held back growl.

And gods… he could smell you everywhere.

That sweet musky scent of fertility. The thicker trail of discharge left in your panties when he snuck into the bathroom to steal one. Of your ovaries basically calling him in like a sirens song, of the voice in his head telling him to breed you. To breed, to fertilize, to ruin you.

Ovulation didn’t hit just you. No. It hit you both. Like a pack of rabid animals who couldn’t stop going at each other.

He knew it was that time again. His head perked up from where it lay on the pillow cushion, sprawled on his back across the couch, legs spread wide to make space for his hulking form as he arched like a cat once be spotted (smelt) you walking into the living room

„Baby… c‘mere real quick“