🎀 She/Her,They/Them pronounce
🎀 Pink and black lover
🎀 '05 baby
🎀 ENG/JPN/IDN/CHN
🎀 Artist/writer
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Thoughts on Leona showing all that dang leg for the NYE event?
I confess, I have not been using the event cards (I-I have TEAM SETUPS okay) so for a while I was like "why is everyone talking about Leona flashing everyone"
...and then I saw his battle animations and. well.
They didn’t mean to hurt you — but they did.
And you started changing because of it.
Now they notice… and it’s already different.
USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI
“Watch what you eat,” Ushijima says, voice low, neutral. He’s looking at your tray like it’s offended him.
You smile—a practiced, automatic thing—and laugh it off.
“Oh, right. Yeah. Just hungry, I guess.”
He nods. Just once.
And that’s the end of it. To him, anyway.
The next day, you bring a salad. You poke at the lettuce with your plastic fork, chew each bite like penance. He glances at your lunch, says nothing.
The day after, it’s just fruit. You peel a clementine slowly, fingers sticky with juice, and avoid his eyes.
Then you stop bringing your usual snack. The one he used to reach over and steal a bite of without asking. The one that always made him smile—subtly, but still. Now your bag is empty. So are you.
By the fourth day, Tendou corners him by the gym doors.
“Hey, Wakatoshi,” he says, voice too light. “You realize she’s barely eating, right?”
Ushijima blinks. Still, silent. His gaze drifts toward you—sitting against the wall, water bottle untouched, your eyes vacant in a way he can’t quite name.
That evening, practice ends. The sun is low, gym almost empty. You sit alone on the bleachers, staring at nothing, your fingers curling around the hem of your sleeve.
He approaches without a word, sits beside you like it's instinct. In his hands: two onigiri, wrapped carefully.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he says, eyes on the rice, not you. “I just… I care if you're healthy. Not thinner.”
You don’t respond. Your fingers twitch toward your bag, but fall short. He places one onigiri in your lap, the other in his own hands.
You pick at the rice. Slowly. Cautiously. Like you’ve forgotten how to be hungry.
He doesn’t speak. Just sits with you, quiet, steady. Watching.
There’s guilt in the way his shoulders slope. In the way his chopsticks pause every few bites, waiting to see if you’ll keep going.
You finish half. It’s the most you’ve eaten all week.
He nudges the second one a little closer. Not pushing—just offering.
“Please eat,” he says, barely louder than a whisper. “With me.”
And you do.
For a long time, he says nothing else. But his silence is kind now. Careful.
And when he finally looks at you, it’s with eyes that say he’s sorry in all the ways words can’t.
SHIRABU KENJIRO
The words slipped out of Shirabu’s mouth like a diagnosis—clinical, cold, final.
And the worst part?
You weren’t even fighting.
You had just spilled tea on your notes—weeks of lectures and scribbled diagrams now soaked through and curling at the edges. You laughed, a little sheepishly, brushing at the mess with your sleeve. “Well. That’s my sign to take a break, I guess—”
He didn’t laugh.
He stared at the papers like they’d personally offended him.
“You’re not cut out for the kind of future I want.”
You blinked.
“…Future?”
He nodded once, distracted, eyes already flicking back to his laptop. “Medicine’s not for people who lose focus. Who make little mistakes.”
You smiled, like it didn’t sting.
Laughed, like you hadn’t heard that same voice in your own head on bad days.
“Right. Of course.”
That night, you stayed up redoing your notes from scratch.
And the night after that.
And the one after that.
You started waking up before him.
Stopped doodling in the margins of your med books.
Stopped humming when you cooked, because every second needed to be productive.
Coffee became a meal. Sleep became a luxury.
You didn’t complain. Didn’t cry.
Just… shifted. Quietly. Carefully. Willfully.
The version of you Shirabu fell for—the one who teased him while quizzing him on anatomy terms, who wore fuzzy socks to study groups, who once made him a human heart out of Jello just to prove a joke—she was slowly fading.
At first, he liked the change.
The silence. The discipline.
The way your pens were always aligned now.
The way you never interrupted him mid-sentence anymore.
But then…
He noticed.
You never touched him just because anymore.
Never made dumb puns over dinner.
Your shoulders stayed tense even in your sleep.
The music in your world had gone quiet—and he hadn’t realized how much he loved its sound until it disappeared.
One night, he came home late from the library and found you at your desk, fast asleep.
Your glasses were still on.
Your hand was stained with blue ink, fingertips trembling slightly from too much caffeine and too little rest.
There was a cut on your thumb from a broken pen.
Your lips were dry.
You looked pale—drained, like all your color had been slowly siphoned away.
He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, heart sinking.
And when he touched your hand, you didn’t even stir.
He sat down beside you, swallowing guilt like poison.
“I didn’t mean for you to become someone else,” he whispered, the words raw and foreign in his mouth. “I just wanted you with me. I didn’t realize I was asking you to lose yourself.”
His voice cracked.
For the first time in years, he cried.
Quietly.
Beside you.
Because you were still there. Breathing. Trying.
But something in you had cracked.
And he had been the one to make the first fracture.
TSUKISHIMA KEI
That was the last thing he said to you that day.
You had just finished gushing about your favorite show—something about parallel universes and time loops and a sad, smiley villain who reminded you of him (your words, not his).
You were laughing, hands moving, eyes bright.
And he had sighed, leaned back in his chair, and muttered:
“Are you done yet?”
You blinked.
Laughed it off. “Right. Sorry. Got carried away.”
He didn’t respond. Just went back to scrolling.
After that, you didn’t talk about your favorite shows anymore.
Stopped sending him memes.
Stopped rambling in long voice notes that always ended with you laughing at your own jokes.
He noticed, of course. But didn’t say anything.
Yamaguchi did.
“She doesn’t text you stuff anymore, huh?”
Tsukishima scoffed. “Didn’t realize you were tracking my notifications.”
But later that night, alone in his room, he opened your chat.
Scrolled through the silence.
Past the last thing you sent—a meme, three weeks ago. A stupid one, about dinosaurs and headphones. He hadn’t even reacted to it.
The empty space beneath it felt louder than any rant you used to send.
The next day, he walked past a store on the way home and froze.
In the window: a little keychain of your favorite character.
The one you wouldn’t shut up about for two whole weeks.
The one he pretended not to care about but secretly knew the name of.
He bought it.
He didn’t even think. Just… did.
The next morning, he dropped it on your desk before class. No warning. No note.
You blinked, staring at the tiny figure in your hand.
“What’s this for?”
He adjusted his glasses, gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.
“So you’ll annoy me again.”
You stared at him for a beat, stunned. Then your lips twitched.
You didn’t say anything.
But that night, he got a message.
[you]: i just rewatched episode 8 again and i need you to understand how emotionally devastating that scene was. also this keychain is SO cute i might cry.
He read it three times.
Smiled. Just a little.
(Translation: I forgive you. I missed you too.)
SUNA RINTARO
He had said it offhandedly. Barely looking up from his phone.
You had just sent him a selfie—your hair a little messy, eyes a little dull, but your smile was there. Honest. Tired, maybe. But still you.
And he said:
“You look tired.”
You blinked at the screen, lips twitching in a way that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
Then replied,
“Yeah. Been a long day.”
After that, you stopped sending selfies.
Started fixing your hair more before calls.
Wore cooler tones. More neutrals. Nothing bright. Nothing bold.
Started double-checking the lighting. Your angles. Yourself.
One day you joked,
“Better not look tired again, right?”
But your voice was too quiet. The kind that curls at the edge of something fragile.
Atsumu noticed it first.
“She doesn’t send you stuff anymore, huh?”
Suna didn’t answer.
“You told her she looked tired, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. But his thumb froze over your chat.
Unread messages: none.
The last picture you sent had disappeared after twenty-four hours. You didn’t save it.
And you hadn’t sent another since.
The silence in the thread felt heavier than words.
So he stared at his camera for a long second, then sighed and snapped a picture.
No filters. No angles. Just him—messy hair, hoodie hood half-on, eyes barely open.
He sent it with a message:
“This is how I look when I actually look tired.”
“You always look like someone I wanna keep looking at.”
You stared at the screen. Chest aching.
Then, finally:
[you]: you're still bad at words.
[suna]: yeah. but i’m trying.
And he was.
In his own way—awkward, quiet, a little late.
But trying.
(And somehow, that was what mattered most.)
OIKAWA TOORU
You didn’t mean to bother him.
You had only sent three messages.
Short ones. Thoughtful, even.
[you]: hey, u free later?
[you]: you okay? you’ve been quiet today.
[you]: let me know if you need anything. i’ll leave you be. promise.
And then it came.
His reply.
Flat. Dismissive.
Laced with exhaustion and that familiar edge he gets when he’s overwhelmed.
[oikawa]: you’re really needy sometimes.
You stared at the screen for a moment too long.
Then you smiled. The kind of smile you force when people are watching.
“lol sorry. my bad.”
One last message. That was all.
And then you stopped.
You stopped texting first.
Stopped sending him memes you knew would make him laugh.
Stopped double-texting, triple-texting.
Stopped reaching out at all.
You gave him what he seemed to want.
Space.
He noticed by dinner.
By the time the team wrapped up practice, Oikawa was already scrolling through your messages, rereading old ones like a lifeline.
There were no new ones.
No “I miss you.”
No “Goodnight.”
Just… nothing.
He opened your chat three times that night.
Typed. Deleted.
Typed. Deleted again.
What was he even supposed to say?
Iwaizumi noticed the silence too.
“She’s not needy,” he said while they packed up. “You’re just used to being worshipped.”
That stung.
Because it was true.
Oikawa Tooru had always been admired—on the court, online, in every room he walked into.
He thought love looked like attention.
He hadn’t realized until now that he’d treated your warmth like a reflex, not a choice.
Until you took it away.
Until your silence said everything.
So three nights later, he was standing in front of your door.
A hoodie pulled over his head. Hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He looked small. Not in height—but in guilt.
He knocked.
Once.
Twice.
You opened it.
Your eyes were tired. Guarded. The space between you filled with things unsaid.
Oikawa’s voice was low. He didn’t even try to smile.
“…I miss your ‘needy,’” he said.
You blinked, lips parting slightly.
“I miss you.”
Still, you said nothing. Just looked at him like you weren’t sure if this was another performance or the real thing.
“I don’t want space,” he continued. “I want your clingy texts. I want the memes. The constant check-ins. The way you send me random thoughts at midnight.”
He looked down at his shoes.
“I want everything. Even the parts I didn’t appreciate.”
Silence.
Then he looked up, eyes raw.
“I only push away the people I care too much about,” he whispered. “And that’s you.”
It wasn’t poetic.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It was just honest.
For a long moment, you stood there. Then, slowly—quietly—you stepped aside.
He didn’t wait for permission.
He just walked in, shoulders trembling slightly.
You closed the door behind him.
And neither of you said another word.
Because this time, he would show you through presence what he failed to express in words.
He came back.
And he didn’t let go.
SAKUSA KIYOOMI
It was just a bad game.
He was frustrated. Quiet. His shoulders tight. His jaw locked.
You knew how he got.
You didn’t say anything.
You just reached out—softly, gently—for his hand.
Not to fix him. Just to say I’m here.
But he pulled back like your touch burned him.
“Don’t touch me right now.”
The words weren’t loud.
They didn’t need to be.
You blinked, hand frozen mid-air. Then you let it drop, your voice a quiet crumble.
“…Sorry.”
That was it.
You stepped back. Gave him space.
And from that day on, you stayed there.
You stopped reaching for him.
Stopped brushing your fingers against his sleeve when you passed by.
Stopped fixing his hair when it curled over his forehead.
Stopped lacing your fingers through his on long walks.
You hesitated now—every time.
Your hands hovered near him, never landing.
And Kiyoomi… didn’t notice.
Not at first.
But Komori did.
He waited until the locker room was empty, then slammed his locker shut louder than necessary.
“You told her not to touch you,” he said, arms crossed. “And now she doesn’t. Happy?”
Kiyoomi blinked, confused.
“She flinched when you brushed her arm, Omi. She flinched. That girl used to hold your hand like it was second nature.”
The words hit harder than they should’ve.
Komori left. Kiyoomi sat down, heart unsettled, brain replaying every tiny moment—your hands curled into your lap, your stiff shoulders, the way your gaze flicked to his fingers then away.
It was true.
You were gone, somehow, even while still beside him.
That night—no, early morning—he couldn’t sleep.
He stared at his phone screen in the dark, thumbs hovering. Then:
[sakusa]: i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted.
No typing bubbles appeared.
He didn’t expect them to.
But the next day, he found you outside the gym, hugging your arms to yourself, pretending not to see him.
He walked straight to you.
You looked up, cautious.
He didn’t speak. Not yet.
He just reached forward—and for once, it was him who was shaking—and took your hand. Both of his around yours, like anchoring something fragile.
You looked down at the connection.
Then back at him.
His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
“I want you close,” he said. “Even when I’m upset. Especially then.”
Your lip trembled.
He held your hand tighter.
And in that quiet moment, on the edge of hurt and healing, you let yourself believe him.
Because sometimes, people push away what they need most.
And sometimes, if they’re lucky, they get the chance to hold it again.
KENMA KOZUME
You used to sit beside him.
No words. No noise.
Just quiet company while his fingers danced across the keyboard, headset snug over his ears.
You liked being close.
He never complained—until one night, between matches, he muttered without looking at you:
“You’re kind of distracting when I’m streaming.”
It wasn’t cruel.
It wasn’t sharp.
But it stuck.
You blinked. “Oh.”
And after that… you stopped.
You stopped bringing snacks and dropping soft kisses to his temple when he won.
Stopped curling up next to him.
Stopped humming under your breath or watching from the corner of his screen.
You stayed in your room more.
Quiet. Out of sight.
Invisible.
Kenma didn’t notice at first—too busy adjusting his settings, managing collabs, climbing ranks.
But Kuroo noticed.
Over Discord, mid-game, as Kenma sat in silence between rounds, Kuroo muttered:
“She doesn’t bug you anymore, huh?”
Kenma blinked.
“What?”
“You look kinda lonely now.”
The words landed like a delayed hit.
Kenma glanced to the side—out of instinct—at the space where you used to sit.
Empty.
Still.
He stared longer than he meant to.
His fingers paused over the keys.
The stream kept running. The chat wondered what happened. But Kenma didn’t move.
Later that night, he found himself in front of your door.
A bag of your favorite snacks in hand. Slightly crumpled from how tightly he’d been holding it.
He knocked once. Soft.
You opened the door, eyes tired.
Surprised.
He didn’t speak at first. Just held out the bag.
“…What’s this?” you asked quietly.
“Peace offering.”
Your brow arched. “You said I was distracting.”
He looked down, fingers flexing.
“I know,” he murmured. “I was wrong.”
You stayed quiet.
So he stepped forward, placed the snack gently beside his controller on his desk, then turned back to you.
“Come sit with me?” he asked.
Then, even softer:
“I miss your noise.”
You blinked.
And for the first time in days, your lips curved—just slightly.
He held his hand out toward you.
And this time, when you took it, he didn’t let go.
Not even when the game started.
Not even when chat noticed.
Because he wasn’t playing to win anymore.
He just wanted you back beside him.
Even if you distracted him.
Especially if you did.
MIYA ATSUMU
You hadn’t meant to cry.
You didn’t even realize it was happening—until your voice cracked mid-sentence, and you saw the way Atsumu’s expression tightened, not with concern, but irritation.
“I’m not in the mood for your drama right now.”
It hit like a slammed door.
You blinked once. Twice.
Then you nodded.
"Sorry," you said, voice barely there.
And after that—you stopped.
You stopped venting.
Stopped opening up.
Started smiling too wide, laughing a little too quickly.
"I’m fine."
"Just tired."
"Nothing big."
You said it so much, you almost believed it.
But Atsumu didn’t.
Not at first—he was too wrapped up in training, in pressure, in exhaustion and ego.
But Osamu noticed.
“You broke something, y’know,” he said one night, tossing a towel over Atsumu’s head.
“You might wanna fix it before it stays broken.”
That’s what finally made him pause.
And that’s what led him here—
To the empty gym hallway, where he found you sitting against the wall, knees to your chest, eyes blank.
You didn’t notice him at first.
Didn’t look up.
Didn’t flinch.
He walked over, crouched down, and gently rested his forehead against your shoulder.
“…I’m the drama,” he whispered, voice raw. “Not you.”
You stayed quiet.
He clenched his fists. Loosened them. Then tried again.
“Please don’t hide your feelings from me. Ever.”
Your throat tightened.
You looked away, eyes burning, lip trembling—but still, you said nothing.
So Atsumu pulled you into his arms.
Held you there. Not asking for forgiveness, not rushing it—just there.
“I was stupid,” he mumbled into your hair.
“I was tired and selfish and I made you feel like too much.”
His voice cracked.
“You’re not too much. I was just too stupid to handle someone real.”
You didn’t say anything right away.
But your hands slowly—finally—gripped the back of his jersey.
And that was enough.
Because this time, he wouldn’t let go first.
KITA SHINSUKE
You were tired.
Not just physically, but the kind of tired that settles in your chest and makes everything feel heavier.
You forgot to do something small — misplanted a row of seedlings in your shared garden, or maybe you overslept and missed breakfast with him.
He didn’t yell.
He never did.
Just that calm, steady voice:
“That’s not very disciplined of you.”
No anger. Just disappointment.
And somehow, that was worse.
It clung to you for days.
You started fixing your posture more, triple-checking tasks, waking up earlier than needed.
No more lazy mornings. No more spontaneous dancing in the rain or lying in the grass just to feel the sun.
You stopped being soft. You started being… correct.
And he noticed.
How your laugh faded.
How your hands trembled when you thought he was watching.
It was Aran who quietly pulled him aside one afternoon.
They were harvesting. The sun was warm. But Kita felt cold at the words:
“She’s not blooming anymore. She’s surviving.”
“You’re so focused on raising standards… you didn’t see her lower herself.”
That night, he found you tending the garden.
The same bed you both built together.
The soil was dry. The petals curled inward. And so were you.
He knelt beside you silently, heart heavy.
“Discipline matters,” he started. “But so does grace. I should’ve given you more of it.”
You didn’t look at him.
Your fingers kept digging gently through the soil.
So he did something rare.
He placed his hand over yours.
Soft. Still. Sure.
“You don’t need to be perfect… to be precious to me.”
Your breath hitched.
And when you finally looked up — eyes glassy, dirt smudged on your cheek —
he smiled, just barely.
“Let’s grow softer things. Together.”
KAGEYAMA TOBIO
You’d tried something new.
Maybe you curled your hair, tried eyeliner, wore that outfit you weren’t sure about but finally had the courage to put on.
You didn’t expect a grand reaction.
But you didn’t expect that either.
“You look weird.”
He didn’t laugh.
Didn’t smirk.
Just said it like a volleyball stat: flat. Unthinking. Unfiltered.
You smiled like it didn’t hurt.
Went to the bathroom that night and wiped it all off.
Told yourself it wasn’t a big deal.
But the next day, you played it safe.
No more makeup.
Neutral clothes.
You toned it down, layer by layer, until it felt like you’d erased something.
And he didn’t even seem to notice.
But others did.
Sugawara asked Kageyama during practice, teasing but genuine:
“What happened to all those selfies she used to send you? I kinda miss the glitter.”
Kageyama blinked.
Paused.
Scrolled through his phone that night.
Through bright lipstick, messy buns, silly filters, captioned doodles.
Gone, now.
He found you that night, seated quietly on the porch or your shared bench near the gym.
“Hey…”
You looked up. Tired. Dull.
He sat beside you, awkward fingers twitching on his knee.
“You’re… not weird. I mean, you are, but like. Not—bad weird. Like… your kind of weird. And I liked that.”
You didn’t respond. Just stared ahead.
So he added, softer this time:
“I’m stupid with words. But I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to disappear.”
You swallowed.
He turned slightly, desperate and clumsy:
“Please don’t change for something dumb I said. I didn’t realize how much I loved… all of that. All of you.”
You turned to him.
Eyes glossy, voice small:
“Then why didn’t you say that sooner?”
He didn’t have an answer.
So instead, he reached into his pocket and held out the phone screen — a selfie of you from a month ago.
“I saved this one. I liked your smile here the most.”
DAICHI SAWAMURA
It was something small.
You tripped on a stair and instinctively, he caught your wrist, pulling you close before you fell.
Someone whistled.
A teammate teased: “Ooh, Daichi, playing knight in shining armor?”
He panicked. Embarrassed. Tried to play it cool.
So he shrugged and muttered,
“She’s not my responsibility.”
Laughed it off.
But your smile didn’t reach your eyes.
You’d never expected him to take responsibility for you.
You weren’t asking to be saved.
But you’d thought — maybe — it was okay to lean. To trust. To fall near him.
After that day, you stopped doing that.
You handled everything alone — even when your hands shook carrying too much, even when your emotions threatened to spill.
No more late-night texts.
No more spontaneous hangouts.
No more quiet moments walking beside him.
You avoided everyone for a while.
Until Suga found you missing again from another group outing and went straight to Daichi.
“She knows she’s not your responsibility, Daichi. She just thought… you gave a damn.”
That silenced him.
That night, he went up to the school rooftop — the place you always went when you needed to breathe.
You were already there, arms wrapped around your knees, eyes on the sky.
He didn’t speak.
Just sat beside you.
Let the silence ache between you both.
Then finally, barely audible:
“I wanted to protect you. Not push you away.”
You didn’t look at him. You just said, hollowly:
“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”
But he shook his head gently.
“No, you don’t. I didn’t say that because I didn’t care. I said it because I was scared of how much I did.”
You blinked, eyes burning.
“You’re not my responsibility,” he whispered again — but this time softer, reverent.
“You’re my person. That’s… different.”
Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)
A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.
Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.
Your neighbor was a tease.
Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…
Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot.
Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way.
What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.
Bzzt–!
Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.
Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3
Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything.
You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door.
Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.
And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.
“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”
Oh.
Oh.
Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily.
Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down-
It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.
Especially around you.
In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp.
You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”
He knew what he was doing.
God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet.
“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”
He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.
A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”
“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.”
“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”
Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-
“He’s lying.”
Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to.
“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”
“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”
“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside.
“Just tell her!”
“I’m taking your iPad time away!”
It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…
“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”
You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”
“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”
“Yeah but-”
“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”
“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”
He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”
And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”
He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”
The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow.
And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips.
“Smooth, dad.”
“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”
Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.
And then, he sees it.
Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry.
So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later.
With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-
“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…
But this?
Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear.
All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.
“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”
And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter.
He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence.
But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?
Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was.
Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning.
And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.
Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.
So cute.
“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.
“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”
And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.
“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”
His phone clatters! to the ground.
Did you just say…his name?
“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest.
Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder.
“Toji—!”
Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-
Toji feels pathetic.
Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-
Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft.
“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”
The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.
For anything.
“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”
Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please-
Ah, his prayers are answered.
Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”
“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”
And could you read his mind?
Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.
Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure.
The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-
“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”
He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples.
Burning.
And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one.
“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”
Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard.
So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice.
It was agonizing.
And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.
SLAM!
“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-
“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”
He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit.
“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.
“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”
That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-
“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”
Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?
Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes.
Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.
“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”
“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”
He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high.
Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before.
And it makes him cum
It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.
“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty.
Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin.
“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”
Bzzt–!
From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.
Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?
---
“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”
You weren’t listening.
You couldn’t.
Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.
You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass.
But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside.
No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…
And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy.
Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-
“-doll? Doll.”
“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”
“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”
Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”
“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”
“Wh-wha- where did you get that?”
Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over.
Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro.
He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”
“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible.
“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”
He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke.
You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”
“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”
You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he.
“...I heard you, too, y’know.”
Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips.
“You mean-”
“Yes.”
Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”
Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”
“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”
Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”
Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”
.
.
.
“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”
But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already.
Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.
And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk.
All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.
Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”
And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”
He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat.
His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”
“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”
Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.
Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick.
“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”
“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”
“Tell me exactly what you want, doll.”
So bossy, you want to snap back.
But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”
And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss.
He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans.
Sweet.
So sweet.
“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”
Proposing and proposing and kissing-
He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking.
You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”
It already was.
But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up.
Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”
“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”
Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”
Toji didn’t expect an answer.
And you can’t give him one.
Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-
“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”
But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”
Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”
“Y-you’re so mean.”
At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”
You were sure he was talking for himself.
Or…was he?
Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls.
Either you could take him or he’ll make space.
Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”
You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear.
Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls.
Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed.
“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”
“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”
You stumble through it - yearning for more.
“Faster.”
“I-I’m trying.’”
But it wasn’t enough. Obviously.
And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”
How could you not?
It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now.
Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-
“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”
And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”
Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate.
And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”
It’s so rough.
Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue-
Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.
“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”
Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose.
It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.
“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”
But even that didn’t seem like enough.
Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved.
So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”
“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.
With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness.
“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”
You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself.
It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt.
“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”
His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”
And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”
God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.
The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-
“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”
“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him.
You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows.
“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.
Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”
And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know.
He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine.
“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”
And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible.
It’s like Toji was out of control.
Feral.
A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”
“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”
Shit.
The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.
Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”
As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea.
His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy.
He’s so filthy.
“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”
And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.
Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words.
“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”
God- you said his name.
Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-
“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”
Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”
Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.
But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.
When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”
God, he was flying too close to the sun.
Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”
“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”
You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”
Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”
He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well.
He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting.
Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright.
Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed.
It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.
THUD!
Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”
Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”
“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”
With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around.
The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.
“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”
Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”
“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”
“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”
“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”
And it’s only later.
Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock!
A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”
“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”
---
“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”
kn8. kafka x f!reader, explicit smut + pet names, not proofread >_<
“Ah— s-shit,” Kafka groans from above you when his cock slips out of your drooling cunt, brows furrowed and arms flexing tight around your hips as he yanks you back against his own. You’re squealing into the sheets as soon as his length buries its entirety back inside you, back arched and hands scrambling to get a better grip on the sheets so you’re not getting fucked completely off the bed.
“Gotta hold on a lil tighter for me— princess.” His groan trails off into a deep growl when your walls clench around him in response. “Gonna let me make you feel good. Okay?”
“Mmmph…!” You nod with a moan straight into the mattress, breath getting knocked out of you from each slam of his hips. His cock is almost pulling completely out before he’s buried balls deep inside you again, fat tip kissing your cervix each time he bottoms out. “‘M t-trying.” You gasp when he’s hitting an unfamiliar spot inside you, slick spilling down your thighs and down onto the mattress, and you swear you might actually feel him in your stomach.
Slick— it was everywhere now. Down your thighs, covering his hips, all over his fingers— even his mouth.
“‘S okay.” His voice is just above a growl now, and his head falls back with a loud gasp when he feels you tighten up, moans suddenly much louder and he knows you’re only seconds away from gushing all over him. “I’ve got you— fuck, do you always have to squeeze like that? S-shit, gonna fill you up soon—”
You scream when a large hand pushes down at your upper back, keeping you still when his pace starts to falter, instincts kicking in as he fucks you senseless into your own mattress. A print. He thinks he’s gonna leave an imprint of his dick from how hard he’s going— gonna keep going until he’s sure your pussy’s only conditioned to take him.
“Stay spread.” His voice is shaky through a clenched jaw, and the hands around your hips are pulling you back to meet him halfway. “That’s it— just like that. Good, good girl.”
So Edd only had a dollar in his pocket,He was running out of Cola Stock so He took Matt to a vending machine. But when he ordered the cola,It never came out. He keeps waiting and even in the rain.
@eddtober WE HAVE ARRIVED ON DAY 9 OF EDDTOBER,DESCENDANTS! Now some of you might be familiar with these lovely two. Welp this is Lemon eyes au,Created by the AMAZING @mlle-zoyberg !!! I REALLY LOVE YOUR TWO BEANS HERE ESPECIALLY TORM🤲.
Day 8 of Eddtober,Minor characters. I decided to draw Laurel cause she's my favourite minor character in the series. As usual,Don't trace,Don't repost without permission and don't authorize my drawing like you own it.
YESHH,DAY 7 OF EDDTOBER-SUPERVILLAINS! Again one of my most favorite character of The au by @uglykhakis ,Cringeworth? Yes all of my shit in my blog is cringey. But yeah whatever,I'm just here for fun \uwu/ @eddtober
DAY 6 of EDDTOBER,SUPERHEROES. Pretend they're looking at something and they're embarrassed about it. Let your mind imagine. Oh yeah AND THIS IS @uglykhakis AU OF SUPER LOSERS,JUST KNOW THAT I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR AU ESPECIALLY TOM!🤲❤💞💝🔥
