Summary: The university is too far away from your house, so your parents decided to rent a boarding house. You're about to meet König, your big soldier roommate.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, AGE-GAP, AU, HEAVY SMUT, suggestive tone, explicit content, mature language, sexual innuendo, erotic, possessive, obsession, jealousy, stealing panties, mention of jerking off, cum eating, mutual pining, erotic, heavy tension, ownership, lots of teasing, manhandling, petname, dirty talk, degradation, oral activities, unprotected, PiV, squirting, spanking, fingering, blowjob, overstimulation, breeding, markings, rough sex, older man x younger woman
The place is small like two narrow beds pushed against opposite walls, a shared desk cluttered with textbooks and protein shakes, and a single window overlooking the campus quad.
You drag the last suitcase over the threshold of the dormitory room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that makes your stomach twist.
Your parents’ warnings echo in your head: Lock the door. Text us when you’re settled. Be careful. Always, always be careful.
You’re an only child. They’ve spent twenty-three years treating you like glass. When the landlord mentioned the only available room came with a roommate, they’d balked.
But the second he added, “He’s one of the task force boys. Big Austrian fellow and keeps to himself,” their tune changed instantly.
A soldier. Disciplined. Safe.
They’d practically shoved the deposit at him, convinced no man in uniform would ever lay a finger on their precious daughter.
You drop your bags with a thud and roll your shoulders, scanning the space. One side is bare which is yours, apparently.
The other is military-neat: bed made with hospital corners, boots lined up like soldiers on parade.
No sign of life.
You were hoping he’d be here so you could get the awkward introduction over with instead of accidentally terrifying him later when he came home to a stranger.
A door on the far side of the room, his bedroom and you guess then creaks open.
You freeze.
He has to duck to clear the frame. Six-foot-something, maybe more, built like someone carved him out of granite and then added extra for fun.
Broad shoulders stretch a black compression shirt until the seams look personally offended. Tactical pants, heavy boots. And a mask that a faded sniper hood that covers everything but his eyes.
Those eyes are pale blue, sharp as winter glass, and they rake over you from head to toe in one slow, assessing sweep. Not leering. Just…cataloguing. Like he’s deciding if you’re a threat or furniture.
You clear your throat, suddenly aware of how small the room feels. “ Hi. I’m, uh…the new roommate.”
His head tilts. When he speaks, the voice that comes out is low enough to vibrate in your ribs. Deep, clipped, unmistakably German-accented.
“ Glad to meet you.”
You offer a tentative smile. “ Same. I’m guessing you’re König?"
He nods once. “ Ja. Been alone for a few months. My last roommate moved out.”
A pause.
“ Said I frightened him.”
You arch a brow, folding your arms. “ Depends how creepy you plan to be, I guess.”
The corner of his eye crinkles like he’s smiling under the mask. “ Not creepy at all. As long as you don’t piss me off.”
The dry delivery catches you off guard. You snort before you can stop yourself. “ Noted. I’ll try to keep my pissing-off levels to a minimum.”
He huffs something that might be a laugh. Then he lifts one massive arm and points with a gloved finger toward the empty side of the room.
“ That’s yours. Bathroom’s through there.”
He nods toward a connecting door. “ Kitchenette down the hall. Quiet hours after twenty-two hundred if I’m on early shift.”
You drag your suitcase toward the empty bed. “ I’m usually buried in textbooks until midnight anyway. Med school doesn’t sleep.”
“ Med school.” He repeats, like he’s filing it away.
“ Good. You’ll be busy. I like quiet.”
You unzip the bag and start unpacking, hyper-aware of him still standing there, watching. Not in a creepy way the more like he’s waiting to see which way you’ll jump.
You pull out a stack of anatomy flashcards and set them on the desk. He shifts his weight, arms crossing over that ridiculous chest.
“ I keep things clean.” He says eventually.
“ Expect the same.”
“ Yes, sir.” You mutter under your breath, sarcastic.
His eyes narrow. “ Sir works.”
Heat flashes up your neck. You busy yourself arranging your laptop, refusing to look at him. The silence stretches, thick enough to chew. You can feel him still watching, and it’s doing annoying things to your pulse.
You risk a glance. He hasn’t moved. “ Something else?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “ Just deciding if you’ll last longer than the last one.”
“ I’m not scared of you.” You say, maybe too quickly.
One brow lifts above the mask. “ You should be a little scared. Healthy respect.”
You roll your eyes. “ I’ve dissected cadavers. You’re tall, not dead.”
That gets you another soft huff, definitely amusement this time. “ We’ll see.”
He turns to go back into his room, pausing at the door. “ If you need anything…quiet, space, someone to reach the top shelf just ask.”
The door closes softly behind him.
You exhale, only then realizing you’d been holding your breath. Your heart is beating too fast for no good reason.
He’s intimidating, sure.
Abrasive in that blunt, foreign way. But there’s something under it is the dry humor, maybe even consideration. And those eyes…
You shake your head. Focus. You’re here for school, not to develop a stupid crush on your giant masked roommate who could probably bench-press you without breaking a sweat.
Still, when you lie in bed that night staring at the ceiling, you hear him moving around in his room in quiet, deliberate footsteps, the occasional low mutter in German.
The wall between you feels paper-thin. You pull the blanket higher. This year is going to be interesting.
And long.
Very, very long.
…
You finally click the last drawer shut and survey your side of the room with exhausted satisfaction. Everything’s in its place. Textbooks stacked by size, notes color-coded, laptop charger coiled like a sleeping snake.
Your phone screen lights up: 00:47. Shit. No wonder your stomach is staging a full rebellion. You haven’t eaten since that sad airport sandwich at lunch.
The common area is dark and silent when you tiptoe out. Most of the task force guys are probably already rack-out, dreaming of push-ups and gunfire.
You’re halfway to the fridge when a low, rumbling voice slices through the quiet.
“ Still awake, Maus?"
You yelp and spin around, clutching your chest. König is sprawled across the couch like a panther on a branch that’s far too small for him.
One long leg draped over the armrest, the other planted on the floor. He’s reading a comic book that looks comically tiny in his huge hands, the pages almost delicate between gloved fingers.
The only light comes from a small lamp behind him, throwing his masked face into shadow and making those pale eyes glow.
“ Dammit, warn a girl.” You hiss, trying to slow your racing heart.
He tilts his head, amused. “ Didn’t want to interrupt your…midnight raiding.”
You narrow your eyes and march to the fridge, yanking it open. Leftover containers, protein shakes, something labeled in German that you’re not brave enough to touch.
Your stomach growls again and loud enough to echo.
From the couch comes a soft, deep chuckle that does unfair things to your spine.
“ I left food on the table.” He says.
“ Knew you’d be hungry. Students always forget to eat.”
You glance over. There’s a foil-wrapped bundle with a sticky note: For the new one.
Your cheeks heat. “ You didn’t have to—”
“ Eat.” He orders mildly, turning a page.
You shuffle to the table and unwrap it. A burger is thick, juicy-looking with sesame bun. Smells incredible. You take a cautious bite.
König’s watching now, the comic forgotten in his lap. He’s still sitting, but even seated he’s enormous. The couch groans every time he shifts.
“ It’s plant-based.” He says before you can ask.
You pause mid-chew. “ I’m not vegetarian.”
“ Part of my diet.” He shrugs. Those massive shoulders roll like tectonic plates.
“ The taste is the same. Better, even. Try it before you complain.”
You roll your eyes but take another bite. And…damn it. He’s right. It’s rich, smoky, and perfectly seasoned. You can’t tell the difference. You make an involuntary little hum of approval and nod.
He gives a satisfied nod. “ Good. You’ll get addicted.”
“ Don’t get cocky.” You mutter around a mouthful.
He stands.
The room seems to shrink. He unfolds himself slowly, first the legs, then the torso until he’s towering again.
You’re eye-level with his stomach, the black fabric of his shirt stretched tight over abs you’re trying very hard not to notice. He steps forward, and you instinctively back up until your hips hit the counter.
“ Thirsty.” He says simply, voice low.
“ I need water.”
You’re blocking the sink. You scramble sideways, muttering, “ Sorry, sorry—”
He brushes past you, barely. His arm grazes yours, solid and warm even through fabric. You catch a faint scent of clean soap and something sharper, like gun oil. He fills a glass, drinks half in one go, throat working under the edge of the mask.
You focus very hard on your burger.
Sauce dribbles onto your chin. You reach for a napkin, too late.
A big thumb swipes across your lower lip, slow and deliberate, wiping the smear away.
Your breath stops.
“ You eat like a child.” He murmurs, voice rougher than before.
His thumb lingers half a second longer than necessary before he pulls away, sucking the sauce off casually like it’s nothing.
Your face is on fire. Your heart is trying to escape your ribcage. You can’t even form words just a strangled squeak.
“ I…uh…early lecture tomorrow…gotta—” You gesture vaguely toward your room, burger clutched like a shield.
He watches you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “ Gute Nacht, messy eater.”
You bolt.
The door to your room slams harder than intended. You lean against it, panting, burger still in hand, sauce probably smeared somewhere else now.
Your lip tingles where he touched it. You press your fingers there like you can trap the feeling.
Less than twenty-four hours.
You’ve been here less than a full day, and your scary-hot giant roommate has already fed you, laughed at you, and wiped your mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You slide down the door until you’re sitting on the floor, and the burger is forgotten.
This slow torture is going to kill you. And the worst part? Some traitorous part of you is already looking forward to tomorrow’s breakfast.
…
You sit in the lecture hall trying to look like a functioning human being, pen poised over your notebook, nodding along as the professor drones about cranial nerves.
Your friends flank you, whispering snide remarks about how Dr. Kessler gave a 62 to the kid who literally wrote the textbook’s twin.
You laugh in all the right places, toss in a sarcastic “He probably grades on font choice,” and hope it sounds normal.
But your brain is a traitor.
Every time you blink, you see that massive thumb brushing sauce off your lip. Feel the faint pressure, the warmth. Hear that low, amused “You eat like a child.”
You’ve tried everything: reciting the brachial plexus, counting ceiling tiles, mentally conjugating Latin roots.
Nothing works.
Those stupid piercing blue eyes keep sliding into frame like an uninvited guest star.
“ Hey, you okay?” Maya nudges you.
“ You zoned out hard.”
You force a smile. “ Totally fine. Just remembered that the histology paper’s due Friday.”
They buy it, thank God, and launch back into roasting professors. You nod mechanically, pretending to listen while your pulse does an annoying little flutter at the memory of König’s chuckle.
By the time class ends, you’re exhausted from the mental gymnastics. You shove your earbuds in, crank your playlist, something loud and distracting and join the river of students pouring down the main sidewalk toward the dorms.
The late-afternoon sun is low, campus buzzing with the usual post-class chaos.
Then you spot the patrol.
Black SUVs, uniformed officers, a loose perimeter of soldiers in full kit. Rifles slung, vests bulky, moving with practiced efficiency.
A bright orange poster on a lamppost reads SURPRISE SECURITY INSPECTION in bold letters. Students slow to gawk while their phones come out.
You slow too, craning your neck as you walk, trying to figure out what’s happening.
It’s rare to see this kind of presence on campus.
You don’t see the obstacle until you slam into it.
Your face meets something solid and unyielding. Not a wall, walls don’t radiate heat or smell faintly of pine soap and gun oil.
You stumble back, earbuds tugging, and look up…way up.
König.
In full tactical gear, helmet tucked under one arm, mask in place, he looms like a damn eclipse. The uniform makes him look even bigger, if that’s possible, plates and pouches adding bulk to an already ridiculous frame.
Those pale eyes pin you in place.
“ Watch the road, not my colleagues.” He says, voice low but firm.
“ You put yourself in danger.”
You blink, music still blasting in one ear. “ What?”
He sighs and reaches down. Gloved fingers gently pluck both earbuds free. The sudden quiet is jarring. You hear your own heartbeat instead.
His face is closer now, head ducked to bring him level with you. You can see faint stubble shadowing the edge of the mask, the way his lashes catch the light. Dangerously close.
“ I said…” He repeats, slower.
“ Stop staring at distractions. Be attentive on the road.”
Heat floods your cheeks. “ I—I was just curious. It’s not every day the campus looks like a war zone.”
His gaze flicks over your shoulder to the perimeter. You follow it and notice several soldiers watching, smirking, whispering to each other.
One makes an exaggerated heart shape with his hands. Another elbows his buddy, grinning.
König groans, a deep, suffering sound. “ Idioten.”
He turns back to you, expression unreadable behind the mask but eyes softer. “ Surprise inspection. Report came in…possibly the suspect with explosives on campus.”
A cold shiver races down your spine. “ Seriously?”
“ Ja.” His voice drops even lower.
“ Do not spread it. No panic.”
You nod quickly, throat tight.
His massive hand settles on your shoulder in careful, but the weight of it still makes you feel tiny. Warmth seeps through your jacket.
“ Go back to the dorm. Rest. I’ll follow when the shift ends.”
The touch lingers a second longer than strictly necessary before he lifts it away. You swallow hard.
“ Okay.” You manage.
“ Be careful.”
One corner of his eye crinkles, almost a smile. “ Always am.”
You turn to go, shoving your earbuds in your pocket this time.
Every step feels hyper-aware.
You can feel his stare on your back like a physical thing, intense and unwavering. You don’t dare look behind you, but you know he’s still watching until you round the corner.
By the time you reach the dorm, your heart is racing again for entirely different reasons than fear of bombs.
You flop face-first onto your bed and groan into the pillow.
This man is going to be the death of you. And the slowest, most infuriatingly delicious death it’s ever been.
…
You’ve been here six weeks now, and somehow you’ve survived living with a human mountain who wears a mask to bed and could probably deadlift the entire dorm building.
Six weeks of slow, maddening adjustment.
You and König have settled into a rhythm that feels almost…domestic. He grunts a greeting when he gets back from whatever classified hell his task force drags him through.
You tease him about leaving his giant boots in the walkway like landmines. He deadpans back that if you trip then he’ll catch you then watches with thinly veiled amusement as you turn red and mutter something about not needing rescuing.
He feeds you. Constantly.
Every few days there’s a foil-wrapped parcel on the table with a sticky note in sharp block letters: Eat. You skipped lunch again.
Sometimes it’s grilled chicken and vegetables portioned like he’s prepping for deployment.
Sometimes it’s those ridiculous plant-based burgers you’re secretly addicted to now.
Once it was a whole box of those fancy chocolate truffles you mentioned liking in passing.
You still don’t know how he remembered.
Your parents call every Sunday like clockwork.
“ Is everything okay, sweetheart? Is your roommate treating you well?”
You roll your eyes and assure them, again, that König isn’t some creep. He’s quiet, tidy, terrifying to everyone else but oddly respectful to you.
They sound relieved every time, as if the word “soldier” is a magical shield against all bad things.
If only they knew how often you lie awake wondering why your stomach flips whenever he brushes past you in the narrow kitchenette.
The tension is unbearable and delicious. You’re twenty-three. He’s…older. Noticeably. You try not to think about the exact math, because it feels forbidden in a way that makes your skin too tight.
He’s your roommate. Your friend, maybe. Nothing more.
Except for that one evening last week.
You’re sprawled on the couch in oversized sweats, picking at the takeout Thai he brought home “because women always want to eat.”
His words. Delivered with that dry, accented certainty that makes you want to both laugh and climb him like a tree.
“ Thanks for dinner again.” You say, mouth full of pad thai.
“ Seriously, I’m gonna start thinking I’m your girlfriend or something with all this spoiling.”
The words tumble out before your brain catches up.
You freeze.
He freezes in mid-reach for his water bottle and his massive frame suddenly statue-still. Even behind the mask you can feel the shift in the air, thick and electric.
Silence stretches like a rubber band pulled too tight.
Your laugh comes out high and panicked. “ Kidding! Obviously. I mean, you’d have to actually take me on a date first, old man. Buy me flowers or whatever ancient ritual you Austrians do.”
His eyes narrow, but the crinkle at the corners gives him away. “ Old man?”
“ Yeah. You probably listened to vinyl records in your crib.”
He huffs in half laugh, half warning. “ Careful, Maus. Keep teasing and I will stop bringing food.”
“ You wouldn’t dare.”
He leans forward, elbows on knees, voice dropping dangerously low. “ Try me.”
You swallow hard, heat pooling low in your belly. The moment hangs, heavy and sweet, until you both look away at the exact same second like cowards.
There are other moments you pretend don’t happen.
Like the nights you jolt awake to low, ragged sounds from his room. The panting and muffled groans that make your imagination run filthy laps.
You press a pillow over your head and curse him for not using headphones, whatever porn he’s watching. You refuse to acknowledge the ache between your thighs or the way you have to change your own sheets the next morning.
Worse: your favorite black lace panties have vanished.
Then the red ones. You’ve torn apart your laundry basket twice. You’re convinced they’ve fallen behind the dryer or something equally mortifying.
The idea that König might have found them or seen them, touched them makes you want to die on the spot. You’ve rehearsed asking him a dozen times “Hey, random question, have you seen any…women’s underwear lying around?” and every version ends with you spontaneously combusting.
So you say nothing. You buy new ones and pray.
Tonight you’re at the kitchen counter, stress-eating cereal straight from the box because exams are trying to murder you.
The door clicks open at 23:40, later than usual. König ducks inside, gear bag slung over one shoulder, moving quiet despite his size.
He pauses when he sees you. “ Still up?”
“ The brain won’t shut off.” You mumble around a mouthful of frosted flakes.
He drops the bag, pulls two protein bars from his pocket, and slides one across the counter to you without a word. You stare at it, then at him.
“ I’m already eating cereal at midnight. This is not a protein emergency.”
“ Eat anyway.” He says.
“ You’re cranky when you’re hungry.”
“ I am not cranky.”
He arches a brow.
You tear open the bar and take an aggressive bite. “ Happy, dad?”
The eye crinkle again. “ Very.”
He moves to the fridge, back to you, and you allow yourself one quick glance at the way his shirt pulls across his shoulders.
Six weeks in and the tension hasn’t eased, it’s worse. Thicker. Like the air before a storm.
You wonder if he feels it too.
You wonder if he hears you some nights, the same way you hear him.
You wonder how long you can both keep pretending this is just friendly roommate banter.
Because it’s not.
And you’re running out of excuses to ignore it.
…
You’re crammed into your favorite cheap eatery just off campus, the one with the greasy tables and the best bulgogi bowls in a ten-mile radius.
It’s lunch break, and your friends are in full post-quiz autopsy mode, arguing over whether the professor wanted “afferent” or “efferent” for question twelve.
You’re half-listening, half-daydreaming about a nap, chopsticks hovering over your rice.
The sliding door whooshes open.
Conversation dies instantly.
Four pairs of eyes swing to you like you’re the main character in a K-drama.
You feel it before you see him: Brent Kim, club president, 4.0 GPA, literal walking Pinterest board, strolling up to the counter in a cream sweater that probably costs more than your tuition. Dark hair perfectly tousled, and a smile bright enough to power the city grid.
Your mouth drops open. A fly could homestead in there.
“ Close it.” Maya hisses, kicking you under the table.
“Before something nests.”
You snap your jaw shut, but your stare stays glued. Brent orders in a smooth, polite voice and then turns. His gaze sweeps the room, lands on you, and that smile widens.
Oh God.
He walks straight to your table.
Your friends turn into vibrating chihuahuas trying not to squeal. Someone’s foot is rapidly tapping Morse code into your shin: SAY YES TO WHATEVER HE ASKS.
“ Hey…” Brent says, stopping beside your chair. Up close he smells like cedar and winter air.
“ Didn’t expect to see you here.”
You manage a brilliant “Hi” that comes out more like a squeak.
He chuckles in low and warm.
“ Quick question…are you free this Sunday? It’s the club’s founding anniversary. All members are supposed to show, but I figured I’d personally remind my favorite bio major.”
Your brain short-circuits. Favorite?
Your friends are making frantic hand gestures: nodding heads, thumbs up, one of them literally mouthing GO.
You clear your throat. “ I…yeah. I’ll be there.”
“ Perfect.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, embossed card, a thick cream stock with gold lettering.
A ticket.
“ You’ll need this at the door. Security’s tight this year.”
He holds it out. You reach and your fingers brush his.
Electricity shoots straight up your arm, down your spine, pools hot in your stomach. It’s barely a second of contact, but your entire nervous system files a dramatic incident report.
Your friends lose the battle. A chorus of stifled squeaks erupts.
Brent’s smile turns knowing. “ Looking forward to seeing you there.”
He nods to your friends, grabs his takeout from the counter, and leaves while the door sliding shut behind him like the end of a movie scene.
The second he’s gone, chaos.
“ OH MY GOD YOU TOUCHED HIM.”
“ HE SAID FAVORITE.”
“ YOU’RE GOING ON A DATE.”
“ It’s not a date!” You protest, face nuclear.
“ It’s a club thing!”
“ With a personal invitation and actual finger contact.” Maya counters.
“ That’s a date, babe.”
You hide behind your bulgogi, grinning like an idiot despite yourself.
Forty feet away, at a corner booth half-hidden by a fake ficus, four very large men in civilian clothes sit in tense silence.
König’s metal spoon is bent at a forty-five-degree angle in his fist.
Soap is biting his lip so hard to keep from laughing that it’s turning white. Ghost watches the scene like he’s observing wildlife. Price just looks tired.
“ Aw, look at that…” Soap whispers, voice syrupy.
“ Proper college romance. Finger brushin’, blushin’, the works. Makes ye miss uni, doesn’t it?”
Ghost grunts. “ Nobody would’ve dated your weird ass in uni.”
Soap gasps, hand to chest. “ Excuse me, Lt. Spooky is calling me weird? You wear a skull mask to Tesco.”
“ Both of you shut it.” Price mutters, rubbing his temple.
Then, quieter. “ Didn’t think König’s type was…college girl.”
Ghost snorts. “ Don’t know what the fuck he ate to start fancying a student. They’re all headaches and drama.”
Soap leans in, eyes dancing. “ Maybe she makes his soldier stand at ease, if you catch my—”
Ghost kicks him under the table. Soap wheezes.
König’s voice is low, dangerously even. “ I don’t like her. She can flirt with whoever. I don’t give a fuck.”
Soap finally loses it then a choked giggle escapes.
“ Right. That’s why you’ve been nicking her knickers like a bloody magpie. Wanking into them every morning, sniffing them like they’re laced with coke—”
“ Shut. Up.” König’s growl could peel paint.
Soap raises both hands, still grinning. “ Just sayin’. And remember that time you made her a protein shake with your own special—”
Ghost mutters. “ It gave me nightmares for weeks.”
“ Milk mixture for breakfast?” Soap finishes cheerfully.
“ Real romantic, big guy.”
König’s jaw flexes under the mask. The spoon is now a pretzel.
Price sighs heavily. “ Let the man sort his own mess. She’s an adult. He wants to court her properly, fine.”
He fixes König with a hard stare. “ But if you do something stupid like more bodily fluid cuisine…I’ll smash your skull myself.”
Soap leans back, folding his arms. “ My professional advice? Make a move before the pretty boy snatches her. College lads move fast.”
Ghost kicks him again. “ Don’t listen to this idiot. Whatever you do next will already be creepy as fuck after the panty theft and the…milk incident.”
König stares at the bent spoon like it personally betrayed him. His food is untouched.
Across the restaurant, you’re still being grilled by your friends, laughing and blushing and replaying that finger brush in your head on loop.
You have no idea that six weeks of stolen glances, late-night groceries, and carefully portioned meals have built something far more complicated than friendship on the other side of the room.
Or that the man currently mutilating cutlery has memorized the way you blush, the sound of your laugh, the exact shade of every missing pair of underwear now hidden in his locker.
Sunday is four days away, and König’s grip on the ruined spoon finally snaps it clean in half.
…
You float back to the dorm on a cloud of giddy stupidity, the gold-embossed ticket clutched between your fingers like it’s made of glass.
Brent’s cologne still clings faintly to the card in clean, expensive and perfect. You press it to your nose once in the elevator, then feel like an idiot and shove it into your pocket before anyone sees.
The dorm is quiet when you push the door open. No towering shadow, no low Austrian greeting. König must still be on shift.
You kick off your shoes, drop your bag on the couch, and collapse backward with a happy sigh, replaying the finger-brush moment for the hundredth time.
Your gaze lands on the coffee table.
His comic book. The one he’s been nursing for weeks that sits there and spine cracked open like he just set it down.
Curiosity wins. You reach for it.
The cover looks innocent enough: stylized art, bold colors. You flip to the dog-eared page.
Your brain blue-screens.
A woman bent over a desk, skirt flipped up.
A man behind her, a massive, hooded, unmistakably dominant, is thrusting so hard the speech bubbles are just a string of filthy German curses and broken English pleas.
Explicit doesn’t cover it.
You see everything: thick cock stretching her open, her mouth wide in a scream, sweat flying off both of them.
You yelp, hurl the book across the room like it’s radioactive, then frantically cross yourself even though you haven’t been to church since high school.
“ Sorry, sorry, sorry—”
The bedroom door creaks open.
König fills the frame, arms crossed, mask in place, those icy eyes locked on you. He’s in a black t-shirt and tactical pants, sleeves stretched around biceps that look illegally large.
Day off, apparently and he’s barefoot, silent as a ghost.
You swallow. “ When…when did you get back?”
“ Day off.” He says simply, voice gravel-rough.
You stand too fast, nearly tripping. “ Cool, cool. I’m just…gonna head to my room—”
You don’t make it two steps.
“ Enjoy your little lunch date with the college boy?” He asks, tone dripping sarcasm.
You freeze. Turn slowly. “ How did you—”
“ I saw you.” He cuts in, starting toward you with deliberate steps.
“ At the restaurant. You and your giggling friends. Him handing you that pretty ticket like a good little prince.”
You back up instinctively. “ I didn’t see you.”
He chuckles, dark and humorless. “ No. You were too busy blushing at that pathetic boy.”
Your spine hits the sink counter. Trapped. He keeps coming until he’s looming, one hand planting on the cabinet beside your head, caging you in. He has to bend to bring his face close then the heat radiates off him.
“ What’s your problem?” You demand, voice shakier than you want.
“ Why are you insulting Brent?”
König mutters something harsh in German like Scheiße, probably then switches back.
“ Don’t like what I saw. Wanted to walk over, grab him by the neck, throw him across the room.”
His mask brushes your temple as he leans closer. You feel his breath through the fabric, warm and unsteady.
“ I’m jealous.” He growls.
“ I'm possessive. Don’t like sharing what’s mine.”
“ I’m not yours.” You shoot back, but it sounds weak even to you.
He laughs, low and dangerous. “ The moment you walked into this dorm, Maus? You were mine.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut in a hot, coiling need twisting low in your belly. You shove at his chest, but it’s like pushing a brick wall.
He doesn’t budge. Instead he presses forward, pinning you harder against the sink.
You gasp.
Something huge and impossibly hard grinds against your stomach, long, thick and throbbing through his pants.
Your thighs clench involuntarily.
“ I've been trying to control it.” He whispers, voice ragged now.
“ Every night I hear you through the wall. Every time you bend over in those little shorts. Every time you laugh at my notes. I stroke myself raw thinking about you…how tight you’d be, how you’d cry my name while I split you open.”
Your breath hitches. A soft, embarrassing sound escapes your throat.
He hears it. His gloved hand catches your chin, thumb pressing into your lower lip.
“ I want to fuck you so deep you forget that boy’s name exists.” He murmurs against your ear.
“ I want to bend you over this counter right now, shove your panties aside, and bury every inch inside you until you’re dripping down my balls.”
“ I want to feel you clench around me while you beg…louder than you do in your sleep when you touch yourself thinking no one hears.”
You’re soaking through your underwear. Your hips twitch forward without permission, seeking friction against that massive bulge.
“ I want to ruin you for anyone else.” He continues, filthy and relentless.
“ Fill you up again and again until the only thing you remember is how good my cock stretches you. Until you’re addicted to the way I wreck this pretty little pussy.”
His thumb slips into your mouth, just the tip, and you suck on it helplessly while your eyes flutter.
He groans, the sound tortured.
“ Say you’re mine…” He demands, voice cracking with restraint.
“ Say it, and I’ll give you everything you’ve been dreaming about.”
You’re trembling, heart hammering, body on fire. The comic book lies forgotten on the floor, and you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.
…
You stare up into those piercing blue eyes, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. The air between you crackles, thick with everything you’ve both been pretending wasn’t there for weeks.
His thumb is still pressed against your lower lip, waiting.
You make the mistake.
A tiny, breathless “Yes” slips out.
The second it leaves your mouth, his eyes darken, pupils blown wide. A low, animal growl rumbles from his chest.
Then you’re airborne.
One massive arm hooks under your thighs, the other across your back, and he hoists you onto his shoulder like you weigh nothing.
You squeak in half protest and half thrill as blood rushes to your head. His stride eats the distance to his bedroom in three steps.
The door bangs open as he tosses you onto the mattress. You bounce once, twice, hair fanning across his dark sheets.
The room smells like him, gun oil, pine soap, and something darker. Your eyes dart around. The tactical gear neatly stacked, protein powder on the dresser, and—
You gasp.
One of your missing black lace panties is draped over the back of his desk chair like a trophy, the crotch darkened with dried stains.
König follows your gaze.
“ I haven’t washed that one.” He says, voice rough with satisfaction.
He plucks the fabric from the chair, holding it up between two thick fingers. The evidence is unmistakable, crusted and almost dry cum streaking the center.
“ It still smells like you. And me.”
“ You…you stole my panties?” Your voice cracks, equal parts horror and filthy arousal.
He chuckles, deep and unapologetic, tossing the ruined lace aside.
“ Not sorry, Maus. I need your scent. It gets hard just walking past the laundry room.”
He crawls onto the bed, a massive frame caging you in. “ Addicted.”
Your brain flashes to the comic book on the living room floor. “ That…that comic—”
“ I needed something to look at while I pictured you.” He admits without shame, lowering himself until his weight pins you deliciously.
“ Better visuals when I fuck my fist thinking of this tight little body.”
Before you can form a reply, his hands fist the front of your uniform blouse. Fabric rips like paper. Buttons ping across the room. Cool air hits your skin and you gasp as your bra is exposed.
“ Scheiße.” He groans, eyes devouring you.
“ Perfect.”
His huge palms cover your breasts completely and your chest looks tiny in his grip. He squeezes, thumbs circling your nipples until they peak hard and aching.
Then his mouth descends. Hot, wet suction on one nipple, teeth grazing just enough to sting. You arch with a sharp moan, fingers tangling in the fabric of his mask.
He switches sides, biting down harder, marking you. By the time he pulls away, both nipples are swollen, shining with his saliva, throbbing in time with your pulse.
He doesn’t stop there.
König moves down your body like a predator, shoving your skirt up to your waist. Your panties are soaked as he rips those too, the sound obscene.
You’re bare to him now, trembling.
He spreads your thighs wide, settling between them like he belongs there. A deep, guttural groan vibrates against your skin as he buries his face against your slick folds.
“ Fuck, you smell better than the panties.” He rasps.
He inhales deeply, nose dragging through your slit. The vibration of his groan shoots straight to your clit. You jerk, hips bucking, but his hands pin you flat.
“ Stay still.” He orders, voice muffled against you.
One thick finger traces your entrance, gathering wetness. You whimper when he pushes inside slowly at first, letting you feel the stretch.
He pulls out, stares at the faint red streak on his finger.
“ Blood?” His tone is reverent, almost awed.
“ You’re a virgin?”
You nod, biting your lip.
A dark, possessive sound tears from his throat. “ Mine. Only mine.”
He thrusts the finger back in but this time hard. No gentleness. His digit is huge, stretching you open with brutal rhythm.
You cry out, back bowing. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles that make stars burst behind your eyes.
“ Taking my finger so well.” He growls.
“ I can’t wait to feel this cunt choke my cock.”
The heat coils tighter, unbearable. “ König…I’m—”
“ Cum.” He commands.
“ Explode on my hand. Show me how you fall apart.”
You do.
The orgasm slams through you, thighs shaking violently as you clench around his finger. He keeps thrusting through it, drawing it out until you’re sobbing his name.
When you finally sag, boneless, he withdraws slowly. His finger glistens with your release and that trace of blood. He brings it to his mask, slipping it underneath.
You hear the wet sound of him sucking it clean, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Then he pulls it out, shiny with his saliva, and presses it to your lips.
“ Suck.”
You obey without thinking, tongue swirling around the thick digit, tasting yourself in tangy, musky, mixed with him. His gaze is molten, fixed on your mouth as you hollow your cheeks and suck obediently.
“ Good girl.” He praises, voice hoarse.
“ Clean every drop.”
You do, until his finger is spotless. He withdraws it with a wet pop, eyes never leaving yours.
“ This is just the start, Maus.” He murmurs, settling his hips between your thighs so you feel exactly how hard he is massive, burning against your sensitive skin.
“ By the time I’m done, you’ll never think of that boy again.”
…
König drops his massive body beside you on the mattress, the frame groaning under his weight. He’s still fully clothed except for the gloves tossed aside, mask in place, chest heaving from the restraint he’s barely holding onto.
Those piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, dark with hunger.
“ Straddle me.” He orders, voice low and rough.
“ Take me out.”
You huff, half-hearted protest bubbling up. “ You’re so bossy—”
His glare sharpens, one brow arching above the mask. The look says try me.
You swallow the rest of your complaint and climb over him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. He spreads his thick thighs wider, giving you room, watching like a predator as your trembling fingers fumble with his zipper.
The second you reach inside, your hand closes around heat and steel. You pull him free and nearly whimper.
He’s enormous. It's angry red, veiny, easily ten inches and thicker than your wrist.
Your fingers don’t even meet around the shaft. Pre-cum beads at the slit, slick and glistening.
König groans, hips twitching. “ Lube it, Maus. Use that pretty mouth.”
You stare at the monster in your hand. “ I can’t…it’s too big. I’ll choke.”
He chuckles, dark and filthy. “ Don’t deepthroat, Liebling. Just the tip. Suck like you mean it. Use your hands for the rest.”
You gulp, leaning down. Even the head stretches your lips wide, salty and hot against your tongue. You swirl around the crown, slurping messily, cheeks hollowing. Both hands pump what you can’t fit in which is most of him.
König’s head falls back, throat working on a growl. “ Fuck…genau so. Good girl.”
You lose yourself in the rhythm. The sucking, stroking and spit dripping down his length until huge hands suddenly grip your ass, lifting you like you’re weightless.
You squeak around his cock as he positions you higher, tip nudging insistently at your soaked entrance.
“ W-wait—” You gasp, pulling off with a wet pop.
“ It won’t fit!”
“ It will.” He rasps, holding the base steady.
“ Your greedy little cunt will take every inch. Sink down. Now.”
You bite your lip hard enough to sting, hands braced on his chest. Slowly and agonizingly, you lower yourself.
The stretch burns. Your walls flutter and resist, then yield in tiny increments. You hiss, eyes watering as the broad head breaches you. König curses in German, fingers digging into your hips.
“ Scheiße, so tight…mein Gott.”
He slaps your ass sharply. The sting makes you clench, and another inch slides in. You moan despite the ache.
Deeper and deeper. Until your ass meets his thighs and you’re impossibly full, his cock seated so deep you feel it in your throat.
Both of you moan in raw, broken sounds.
“ Look…” He laughs breathlessly, pressing a palm to your lower belly. A visible bulge distends your skin where he’s buried.
“ Taking me like a perfect little slut. My cock’s rearranging your insides.”
The degradation sends heat spiraling through you. You lift experimentally, whimpering at the drag on how your walls cling to every vein. Then sink again. Pain melts into dizzying pleasure.
Soon you’re riding him in earnest, slow rolls turning to desperate bounces. His hands guide your hips, but he lets you set the pace, eyes glued to where you’re joined.
“ Faster…” He growls.
“ Fuck yourself on my cock. Show me how much you need it.”
You do. You are chasing the friction, breasts bouncing, and moans spilling freely. The bulge appears and disappears with every thrust.
Suddenly he surges up, flipping you beneath him in one fluid move. Your legs are hooked over his broad shoulders, folding you nearly in half.
He looms above, massive and overwhelming.
“ Zu klein für mich.” He murmurs, voice thick with awe and possession. (Too small for me)
“ Seht nur, wie ich diese winzige Muschi dehne.” (Just look how I'm stretching this tiny pussy)
He starts moving in deep, punishing strokes that punch the air from your lungs. The bulge drives deeper; you feel him everywhere.
König buries his masked face in your neck, lips brushing your skin as he switches to German, words hot and filthy against your ear.
“ Du gehörst mir…so nass für mich…werde dich füllen bis es überläuft…kleine Schlampe nimmt jeden Zentimeter…” (You belong to me...so wet for me...I'll fill you until it overflows...little slut takes every inch.)
You don’t understand most of it, but the tone, it's possessive, degrading, adoring and pushes you higher. Your nails rake down his back through the shirt.
Another orgasm builds fast and brutal. “ König…please—”
“ Cum.” He snarls.
" Spritz in meinen ganze Schwanz, du verzweifeltes Mädchen!" (Cum all over my cock, you desperate girl)
You shatter.
Pleasure crashes through you in waves. You squirt hard, soaking his hips, the sheets. Your walls milk him relentlessly.
He roars your name muffled behind the mask and slams deep one last time. Heat floods you in thick, endless pulses.
There’s so much it overflows immediately, creamy white leaking around his buried length, dripping down your ass.
He doesn’t pull out right away. Instead he collapses carefully, rolling so you’re tucked against his hard chest, still impaled and full.
His hand strokes your hair, voice softening to a rumble.
“ Gut gemacht, Liebling…so perfect for me…took everything I gave you.”
Only then does he ease out in slow and gentle until both of you moaning at the lewd, wet sound. Cum gushes out after him.
His cock that is still half-hard, shiny with your mixed release rests heavy and twitching against your stomach.
He strokes your hair, blue eyes searching yours.
“ No event on Sunday.” He says quietly.
“ It's useless. You stay here.”
“ But I—”
He cuts you off with a low growl. “ I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk. Until that boy’s name is erased from your pretty head. Then I’ll spend all day making you come again and again. That’s your Sunday.”
You open your mouth to argue, out of habit, mostly but his stare pins you.
Intense. Possessive. Promising.
You swallow. Nod.
A slow, satisfied smile crinkles his eyes.
“ Braves Mädchen.” He presses a masked kiss to your forehead. (Good girl.)
“ I’ll make it memorable. Better than any pathetic invitation.”
You melt against him, sore and spent and secretly thrilled.
Sunday was never going to that club anyway.
…
Everything has flipped upside down in the best, most filthy way possible. Since that first night, the dorm has become a non-stop haze of sex.
You barely make it out the door for class without König pinning you against the wall, fingers or tongue or cock inside you until you’re late and wobbly-kneed.
You try to study at the desk when he crawls under it then spreads your thighs, and eats you out until your notes are smeared with desperate handprints.
He comes back from shift smelling like sweat and gunpowder, and you’re on him before he can drop his gear bag while riding him on the couch, the floor or in the shower wall.
Sunday arrives exactly as he promised: unforgettable.
You wake up naked where clothes are pointless when König is in the same postcode. He’s sprawled beside you, equally bare, that huge scarred body on full display.
The first time you really see all of him in daylight, you nearly drop the orange juice. His body is a map of violence and power while broad chest dusted with dark hair, abs carved deep, a thick happy trail leading straight to that monstrous cock that never seems to go fully soft around you.
Scars crisscross his skin: jagged ones across his ribs, a burn on his shoulder, a long surgical line down his thigh.
He catches you staring and shifts, suddenly awkward for a man who just fucked you senseless.
“ Not pretty.” He mutters, reaching for a shirt.
You stop him, fingers tracing a raised scar on his chest. “ Are you kidding? You look fucking hot. Like a war god or something.”
You press a kiss to one mark, then another. “ Never cover up around me again.”
Breakfast prep starts innocently enough. You’re on the kitchen counter in one of his oversized shirts where the only thing you’re allowed to wear while your legs spread while he stands between them slicing strawberries.
Then two thick fingers slide into your bare pussy without warning.
“ Guten Morgen, Liebling.” He murmurs against your neck, pumping lazily.
“ Already soaked for me.”
You whimper, gripping his shoulders as he works you open, thumb circling your clit until you’re shaking. By the time you come, clutching his wrist, breakfast is forgotten.
He lifts you effortlessly, sets you on his cock, and goes back to chopping vegetables while you ride him slow and greedy. You roll your hips, chasing friction, while he calmly slices bell peppers one-handed.
The sizzle of eggs, bacon, and hotdogs fills the air. When the scent of frying fat hits, you both lose patience then you slam down hard as he thrusts up brutally, and you come together with muffled groans against each other’s skin.
His release painting your insides as the bacon pops in the pan.
The rest of the day is pure debauchery.
Clothes never make a reappearance. You drift around the dorm naked, his cum drying on your thighs, breasts marked with fresh bites.
Every time you pass him. When he's reading reports on the couch or cleaning his gear at the table while his cock is hard and swinging heavy between his legs like a permanent invitation.
You take it often.
You drop to your knees while he’s reviewing mission briefs, deepthroating as much of that monster as you can in which is still only half.
He threads fingers through your hair, abs flexing, voice calm as he turns pages and praises you in German.
“ So ein braves kleines Ding…nimmst meinen Schwanz so tief…” (Such a good little thing...you take my cock so deep...)
Sunday afternoon, your phone rings.
You’re bouncing on his lap again, facing him, his mouth latched to one nipple.
The screen flashes MOM.
You freeze.
König reaches around you, grabs the phone, and holds it out. “ Answer.”
“ Are you insane?” You hiss.
“ They’ll hear—”
He thrusts up hard once, making you gasp. “ You’re too good at ignoring calls. Answer or I stop moving.”
You glare, but your hips are already rolling again.
You swipe accept.
“ Hi, Mom! Dad!”
Your mother’s voice is warm. “ Sweetheart! How’s school? Is everything okay with your roommate?”
You try to sound normal.
König chooses that moment to slam up particularly deep, the fat head of his cock knocking your cervix.
Your voice cracks on a moan. “ Everything’s g-great…oh!”
“ Baby? Are you okay?”
“ Y-yeah!” You squeak, clawing at König’s chest.
“ Just…stubbed my toe!”
König’s eyes glint with evil amusement. He flips you suddenly, pinning you face-down on the couch, one leg hooked over his forearm. He slides back in with one brutal thrust.
You whine involuntarily.
“ What was that?” Dad’s voice sharpens.
“ N-Nothing! Dropped my pen…keep going, Dad. It's the monthly allowance, right?”
Your parents keep talking about grades, allowance and reminders to eat vegetables. König leans over you, chest to your back, and starts a slow, grinding rhythm.
His masked mouth finds your ear.
“ Quiet, Schlampe.” He whispers in German.
“ Don’t want them knowing their precious daughter is getting fucked raw by her big bad roommate, hm?”
You bite the cushion to stifle another moan.
Your father launches into a lecture about budgeting your monthly allowance. König speeds up, pounding deeper, the wet slap of skin barely muffled.
He degrades you softly the whole time. König leans down, mouth at your ear, whispering pure filth in German while your parents talk about finances.
“ Du kleine Schlampe…nimmst meinen Schwanz so gut während du mit Daddy redest…so verdorben…” (You little slut...taking my cock so good while you talk to Daddy...so depraved...)
The coil snaps. You come hard, silent except for a choked whimper, walls fluttering around him. König pulls out just in time, hot stripes paint your lower back and ass then shoves back in to finish deep and flooding you again.
His huge hand clamps over your mouth, catching your muffled cry.
“ Braves Mädchen.” He breathes against your neck.
“ So gehorsam.” (So obedient.)
Your father is still mid-sentence about direct deposits when the aftershocks fade.
“ I…I have to go,” you manage, voice shaky.
“ Assignment due—”
“ Of course, honey.” Your mom says.
“ Just remember…stay safe. Keep your distance from that male roommate, okay? You’re too trusting sometimes.”
König outright laughs in a low, wicked rumble against your spine.
You end the call with trembling fingers. He plucks the phone away, tosses it onto the coffee table, and gives a lazy thrust that makes you gasp.
“ They have no idea…” He says, voice low and rough.
“ That their precious girl is getting fucked raw by her big bad roommate every day. Stuffed full of my cum while she lies to them.”
You swat his chest weakly. “ You’re evil.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through both of you as he starts a slow, lazy rhythm again.
“ Evil?” He leans down, mask brushing your lips.
“ No, Maus. Just keep what’s mine.”
You roll your eyes, but your legs wrap tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper.
Sunday isn’t even over yet, and you wouldn’t trade it for any club invitation in the world.
poor alby caught in the middle of two nuclear brothers who will ruin the lives of everyone around them w/ their actual cataclysmic relationship… alby we can save you. there’s still time. RUN
god also can’t stop thinking about just how disgustingly delusionally twisted-up codependent attached at the hip teen rubambi must’ve been in the years pre-uni for lori of all people to have to tell niall they were too close like. sharing everything from spliffs and sandwiches to deodorant and even their toothbrushes, no use for the closet or the dresser being separated anymore, it’s all just one big pile they both grab from, getting up at the same time and going to bed at the same time and sleeping in the same bed even in the summer, everything hot and sticky, ruben’s arm low over niall’s stomach, the two of them finishing each others sentences like twins and talking through the bathroom door, ruben taking bites off niall’s plate like it was his own and niall drinking from ruben’s glass without asking, listening to the same music and watching the same films, even indiana jones, walking everywhere together or else taking ruben’s bike, niall’s arms round ruben’s waist this time, just always togethertogethertogether and no one daring to say a thing about it, until one morning about a week before niall is set to leave for uni lori watches him come downstairs wearing the entire outfit ruben had been wearing the day before, head to toe, all of it still unwashed and rumpled and she could swear it’s even the socks and even — even the boxers and when she looks up at ruben his eyes flash something animal dangerous, something that says MINE, and she has to look away and bite her tongue to stop herself from saying what she really wants to say about it, and it’s right then and there that she decides that once niall gets out of this house and ruben’s grip she can never, ever let him come back
niall going to ruben and mona’s house and just… this was supposed to be my house. this was supposed to be my garden. this was supposed to be my car. this was supposed to be my kitchen. this was supposed to be my bed. this was supposed to be my husband. this was supposed to be my life.
Back from college and staying with your dad in his shitty apartment complex, the older man... your neighbor next door has been noticing you, just as you have?
ಇ.content & warnings: porn with no plot :: non canon au :: reader is implied to be thicc :: age gaps - (reader is 19-20, Toji is in his Mid 30s) :: older neighbour trope :: touching through clothes :: kissing :: oral f.rec :: pussyjobs :: multi-gasms :: p in v :: spitting :: different sex positions? :: anal play - (thumb) :: c-pied :: description's of sex and anatomy was meant to be more on the 'graphic side' ::
The back porch of apartment 07 was nothing special — just cracked concrete painted a faded green years ago, a single wobbly plastic chair, and a rusted railing that overlooked the narrow strip of shared yard nobody ever used. Summer heat clung to everything like wet cotton, thick and slow even now that the sun had dipped low enough to turn the sky bruised purple.
You’d been inside all day, scrolling on your phone until your eyes ached, hoodie zipped halfway over a thin tank top because the AC was barely spitting cool air anymore. Shorts riding up high on your thighs, the soft cotton clinging where sweat had gathered at the crease of your hips.
Ninety degrees and no breeze, so you finally gave up and dragged yourself outside to sprawl on the single step, legs stretched long, bare feet dangling over the edge.
That’s when you saw him.
Toji Fushiguro, in apartment 08, right next door, he stepped out the side door with a black garbage bag in one scarred hand, in the same tight black t-shirt you’d seen him in a dozen times before, sleeves stretched tight around thick biceps, fabric clinging to the hard planes of his chest and stomach like it was painted on. Dark sweatpants slung low on narrow hips, the waistband showing a thin strip of tanned skin when he moved.
That scar sliced the corner of his mouth, pulling slightly when his lips twitched like he was always half a second from smirking at something only he found funny and black hair messy, damp at the temples from the heat or maybe from whatever he’d been doing inside his own place all day.
He didn’t look your way at first, he just hefts the bag into the big metal bin with one easy toss, muscles rolling under tanned skin, then wipes his forearm across his brow.
You should’ve looked away, should’ve pretended to stare at the sky or your chipped nail polish or literally anything else, but your eyes stayed glued, tracing the way his shoulders flexed when he turned, the slow roll of his neck as he cracked it side to side and maybe he felt it, because those sharp green eyes finally flicked over.
Eyes locking on yours.
Your stomach does a nasty, liquid flip. Not fear, exactly. Something hotter. Hungrier. You feel suddenly very aware of how your shorts are bunched high on your ass, how the hoodie’s ridden up to show the dip of your spine, how your thighs are parted just enough that if he looked lower he’d see the soft inner curve where skin meets cotton.
He didn’t smile, didn’t wave. Just stood there with one big hand still resting on the bin lid, staring like he had all night to decide what he wanted to do about the pretty little thing next door finally looking back.
Then he starts walking.
Not toward his apartment, towards you.
Each step, heavy. Bare feet on gravel and the closer he gets the more details you take in, faint sheen of sweat on his throat, the way veins stand out along his forearms and he stops at the edge of your porch slab, one foot planted on the rickety porch so he’s towering without even trying.
For a second the world narrows to just that look; heavy and unreadable, dragging down the length of your sprawled body like he was cataloging every inch. The hoodie half-open so the thin tank underneath showed the soft dip between your breasts, nipples pebbled from the sudden shift in temperature and maybe something else, your shorts bunched high enough that the plump curve where thigh met hip was on full display, cotton stretched tight across your mound.
You felt the fabric pull snug there, outlining the soft curve of your pussy in a way that made heat crawl up your neck, shifting your thighs together instinctively — only making it worse. A tiny damp spot had already started blooming at the crotch from hours of lazy daydreams and the sticky summer air.
You swallow. Throat dry. “Hi,” it comes out smaller than you meant.
Toji’s scarred mouth twitches barely. “Hey.”
Voice low and rough around the edges like gravel dragged over velvet. One word and it already felt like he’d put his palm flat on your sternum and pressed.
You sat up a little straighter, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. “You’re… Toji, right? My dad said you’re the quiet one.”
He huffed through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’d ever heard from him. “Yeah. That’s me.” He took one slow step closer. “And you’re the kid who’s been runnin’ around in those little shorts all summer.”
Your breath hitched, you're not a kid. Not really, but the way he said it with that lazy drawl, his eyes dropping to where your thighs are pressed together, made your clit throb under the cotton like he’d reached out and thumbed it.
“I’m not a kid,” you mumbled, cheeks burning. “I’m nineteen, almost twenty.”
Toji’s brows lifted just a fraction. “Almost twenty,” he echoed, like he was tasting the words. Another step forward, now he was close enough you could smell him; clean sweat, faint soap, something darker underneath like motor oil and cedar. “Old enough to know better than to sit out here lookin’ like that when it’s just you and me.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You tried to play it cool, tugging the hem of your hoodie down like it would hide anything. “It’s hot. I just wanted air.”
“Mm.” His gaze slid lower again, shamelessly, lingering on the visible outline of your pussy lips printed through the thin shorts, plump, puffy, already so swollen from nothing but his proximity. “Looks like you’re feelin’ more than just the heat, sweetheart.”
The pet name landed like a spark on dry grass, and you squeezed your thighs tighter, but that only made the damp cotton drag against your slick folds. A tiny, involuntary whimper slipped out before you could catch it.
Toji’s eyes darkened. He crouched slowly, his big body folding with surprising grace, until he was eye-level with you on the step. Forearms resting on spread thighs, scarred hands dangling loose between his knees. So close you can see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, the way his happy trail disappears under the waistband, dark and tempting.
He tilts his head, just enough that the dying sunlight cuts across the sharp line of his jaw. Moss-green eyes drag from your bare legs up up up- slowly and unapologetic. Lingers on the bare strip of stomach where your hoodie’s rucked up. On the way your shorts cling to the plump curve of your ass, aaaaall the way up to your face like he’s cataloguing every inch he’s already seen a hundred times through cracked blinds.
“Been seein’ you around,” he says. Voice quieter now and allmost intimate. “You live next door, right? Your old man’s girl.”
Not a question again.
You nod anyway. Tongue feeling too big in your mouth.
“Yeah. I’m… back for summer break.”
He hums, deep in his chest. The sound vibrates through the humid air straight into your bones.
“Didn’t figure you’d be out here lookin’ like that,” his eyes glance to your lips then back up to your eyes, “always out this late too huh, doll?”
You blink. “...You noticed?”
Another almost-laugh. “Hard not to.”
Heat floods your cheeks. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of exposed skin. The way your nipples have pebbled against the thin hoodie fabric from the slight breeze or maybe just from him looking at you like that.
“You been watchin’ me too, huh?” he murmurs. Voice softer than you expect. Almost gentle. “Every time you come out here. Corner store. Back porch. Thought I didn’t notice?”
Your lips parted, no sound comes out at first. Then, barely a whisper, “I… I thought you didn’t.”
“Wrong.” One big hand lifts slow, carefully and the rough pad of his thumb brushes the edge of your hoodie sleeve where it had slipped down your shoulder. Goosebumps erupts across everywhere he almost touches. “Been noticin’ you since the first day you walked by in those jeans. Ass hugged so tight I could see the outline of your panties. Thought about bendin’ you over the railing right then.”
Heat floods between your thighs so fast your vision blurs and you can feel yourself leaking now, slow, syrupy slick soaking through your cotton panties, darkening the crotch of your shorts in an obvious little patch. His eyes drops to it immediately.
“Fuck,” he breathes, almost laboured. “Look at that. Sweet little pussy already cryin’ for me and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
You whimper again, louder this time, hips shifting forward on instinct, chasing nothing.
“You alone tonight?” he asks. Casually, like he’s asking about the weather.
You nod, throat dry. “Dad’s working late again, always is.”
Toji hums, low in his chest. The sound vibrates through the air into your palms.
He reaches out, slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted.
You don’t.
Thick fingers catch the hem of your hoodie where it’s ridden up over your hip and he doesn’t pull it down. Just tugs it a little higher, exposing another inch of soft skin. His thumb brushes the edge of your shorts, barely a graze, but it feels like he’s touching you somewhere much more intimate.
“These are reaaaaal short,” he drawls. Voice gone darker. “You always walk around in shit like this?”
Your heart slams against your ribs. “Sometimes.”
He exhales through his nose, almost a growl.
“Careful, sweetheart.” His thumb presses just barely into the crease where thigh meets ass. “Lots of eyes around here.”
You’re trembling now and its not from fear, its from the sudden, vicious ache blooming low in your belly. Your thighs press together on instinct and he notices. Of course he does.
Toji’s eyes flick down to where your legs squeeze, then back up to your face, that smirk of his deepens.
“You scared of me?” he asks softly, almost sweet — if sweet could be laced with this much danger.
You shake your head, barely.
“Liar,” he says but he sounds pleased.
His hand slides higher, his fingers splaying wide across the small of your back, his palm is hot and rough as calluses drag against your skin like a promise. He doesn’t push you down. Doesn’t need to, you’re already melting into the floor boards, arching just enough that your ass lifts a fraction — offering.
He groans quietly and guttural, the first real crack in that cool exterior.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re trouble.”
You lick your lips, voice barely there. “You gonna do something about it?”
His eyes snap to yours. Dark, predatory.
For one endless second neither of you moves.
Your breath hitches when his gaze drops again — straight to the damp patch you know is starting to show. The cotton’s darker there now, clinging, outlining the plump shape of your pussy lips so clearly it’s obscene. You’re soaked, have been since you noticed him watching. And he can fucking see it.
“Pretty little thing like you,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something dangerous-soft, “sittin’ out here all needy. Drippin’ through your shorts for the old man next door.”
Your mouth falls open on a shaky gasp. No denial. No lie. Just liquid heat, shameful heat — flooding between your legs at his words.
Toji’s eyes darken and hooks one thick finger under the hem of your shorts. Doesn’t pull them down. Just lifts the fabric the tiniest bit, letting it snap back against the crease of your thigh with a soft thwack.
“Bet these panties are fuckin’ ruined,” he says, almost conversationally. “All wet and clingy, pushin’ up against the seam, yeah?”
You whimper high and helpless, hips shifting forward before you can stop them.
He chuckles, low and mean. “Knew it.”
Toji’s hand moves again, this time cupping the side of your face, thumb stroking slow along your jaw. Calluses rough against your soft skin. “Pretty thing,” he murmured. “So shy. So needy. Bet you’ve been touchin’ yourself thinkin’ about the mean neighbour next door, huh? Imaginin’ what these hands would feel like spreadin’ you open.”
Your head tipped into his palm. Eyes fluttering. “Y-yes…”
“Good girl.” Praise hits like honey dripping down your spine. He leaned in closer — close enough his breath fanned your glossed lips. “Gonna kiss you now. Wanna taste how sweet that pouty mouth is before I ruin the rest of you.”
You nodded with frantic little jerks of your head.
Then his mouth is on yours.
Soft at first, just the brush of scarred lips over your glossy ones, tasting artificial cherry and nervous salt. He groaned low in his throat the second your mouths connect, like he’d been starving for it, his big hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wants so he could lick slow into the seam of your lips.
You opened for him instantly. Tongue shy and tentative, his is thicker, hotter, curling against yours with lazy confidence. He kisses like he had nowhere else to be, like he could spend hours just licking into your mouth, swallowing every tiny whimper you give him.
“So fuckin’ sweet,” he mumbles against your lips between slow, wet kisses. “Taste like summer, like you’ve been waitin’ for this.”
His other hand finds your thigh, palming the plush inner meat, squeezing gently, thumb stroking higher and higher until it grazes the damp edge of your shorts, not pushing inside. Just petting. Soothing. Praising.
“Doin’ so good for me already,” he whispers, nipping your bottom lip. “Letting me kiss you like this. Letting me feel how wet you are just from my mouth. Such a good girl f'me already.”
You moan into his kiss loud and needy — hips canting up so his thumb presses firmer against the soaked outline of your pussy. He growls softly, rewarding you with another deep, filthy lick into your mouth.
The kiss turns hungrier. Wetter. His tongue fucks slow and deliberately into yours while his hand kneads your thigh, inching closer to where you ache most — never quite touching your clit, just circling, teasing, making you drip more and more until the cotton’s clinging transparently to every swollen fold.
He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath ragged, green eyes blown black with want.
“Tell me you want more,” he raspes. Voice wrecked. “Tell me you want my hands on you. My mouth. Everything.”
Your lips trembles, gloss smeared and eyes glassy.
“I want it,” you breathe. “Want you…please, Toji…”
He smiled then slowly, gaze darkening but still so gentle when his thumb brushes your cheek again.
“Good girl,” he purred.
And then he kissed you deeper — claiming, devouring, promising every filthy thing he's about to do to you next.
His mouth is still on yours hot, slow and filthy in the best way. Tongue sliding deep, curling lazy against yours like he's mapping every soft inch of your mouth, tasting the cherry gloss you’d slicked on earlier just because you felt pretty.
Toji kisses like a man who’s waited too long to taste something sweet and now couldn’t get enough. A big hand cradles the back of your neck, thumb stroking the sensitive spot just under your ear while the other squeezes the plush meat of your inner thigh — fingers digging in just enough to make your hips twitch forward, chasing more pressure against the soaked cotton clinging to your pussy.
You were drowning in it. Brain turning to warm syrup, every thought melting into the wet drag of his tongue, the faint scrape of his scar against your lower lip when he sucks it between his teeth. Soft little whimpers bubbling out of you every time he pulls back just to nip, just to breathe a rough “good girl” against your mouth before diving back in deeper.
Your hands found his shoulders somewhere in the haze, your fingertips digging into hard muscles under that tight black shirt, feeling the heat rolling off him like a furnace. He smells so good up close; clean sweat, faint cologne that clung to his neck, something darker and masculine underneath that made your clit throb harder every time you inhaled.
When he finally eases back — barely an inch, forehead pressing to yours, your lips swollen, gloss smeared across both your mouths, strings of spit connecting when yours part. You were panting, chest heaving under the half-zipped hoodie, nipples tight and aching against the thin tank.
Toji’s green eyes were blown black, pupils eating up the color as he stares down at you like you were the only thing left in the world worth looking at. His thumb brushing slowly over your bottom lip, spreading the mess even more.
“Fuck, look at this mouth,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough and wrecked. “All glossy and puffy from just my kisses. Bet it’d look even prettier wrapped around my cock.”
The words hit you like a slap of heat. Your thighs clenching hard — slick gushing fresh against your already drenched panties, the cotton so wet now it was sticking transparently to every plump fold. You could feel the outline of your pussy lips print shamelessly through the shorts, fat and swollen… begging.
You tried to speak — tried to be smart, to play it cool, but your brain was mush, words tumbling out careless and needy.
“W-wanna… come inside?” you breathed, barely coherent. “For… for a drink. Or… something. Please.”
Toji’s scarred lips curves slow and predatory, but still so fucking gentle when his thumb strokes your cheek again.
“Yeah?” he rasps. “You invitin’ the old man next door inside while your daddy’s gone? Careful, sweetheart. I might'n wanna leave once I get my hands on you proper.”
Your head bobs, frantical little nods. “I… I don’t want you to leave.”
He groans low in his throat, like the confession physically hurt him in the best way. Then he was standing, a slow roll of his muscles as he rose to his full height, now towering over you on the step. One big hand extended down.
“C’mon then pretty girl. Show me where you live.”
You take his hand, your small fingers swallowed up in his scarred palm and you let him pull you up. Legs shaky, thighs slick where they're rubbing together. The second you're standing he tugs you closer, arm banding around your waist so your soft body presses flush to his hard one. You could feel him, thick and heavy…his cock already half-hard and straining against his sweatpants, nudging insistently against your lower belly.
“Fuck,” he mutters into your hair, inhaling deep like he was trying to memorize your scent. “Smell's so sweet. Bet you taste even better between those thighs.”
He walks you the few steps to your door like that, an arm possessive around you, free hand palming slow over the curve of your ass through your shorts, squeezing the plush flesh like he was testing how soft you really are. You fumble the key with trembling fingers and he just chuckles low against your ear.
“Easy, baby. We got all night.”
The door finally opens. You stumble inside, the dim living room lit up only by the lamp you’d left on, the cheap couch, scattered textbooks from last semester you hadn’t bothered to put away. Toji kicks the door shut behind him without looking, then spun you gently until your back hits the wall beside it.
He didn’t crowd you right away. Just stood there, close enough you could feel his heat, but giving you that one last second to back out if you wanted.
You didn’t.
Instead you tipped your head back, lips parting eyes glassy and pleading.
Toji’s hand came up and cupsyour jaw so gently it made your chest ache, his thumb stroking over your swollen bottom lip again.
“Look at you,” he whispers, voice thick with something almost reverent. “So fuckin’ pretty. So young and soft and already drippin’ for a man old enough to know better. You know how filthy that is, sweetheart? How wrong?”
You whimpered, nodding your hips canting forward so the damp crotch of your shorts brushes the hard line of his cock through his sweats.
“Feels right to me,” you breathe out needy.
His eyes flutters shut for a second — like your words punched the air out of him. Then he was kissing you again, deeper this time, hungrier. Tongue fucking slow into your mouth while both hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you easy like you weighed nothing. Your legs wraps around his waist on instinct; he pins you to the wall with his hips, his thick cock grinding slow against your soaked pussy through layers of fabric.
You moaned loud into his mouth, a desperate, broken sound.
“That’s it,” he praises against your lips, rocking slow and deliberately. “Grind on it, baby, let me feel how wet you are for me. Soaked right through these little shorts… fuck, I can smell you. Sweet little cunt cryin’ for cock.”
His hands kneads your ass rough, spreading you open even through your clothes, his fingertips dipping under the hem of your shorts to brush the edge of your drenched panties. You jolt at the contact and he just shushes you softly by kissing the corner of your mouth.
“Doin’ so good,” he murmurs. “Such a good girl lettin’ me touch. Gonna take care of you, yeah? Gonna make this pretty pussy feel so full… but imma take my time. Wanna savor every second of ruinin’ you.”
You were shaking, your whole body trembling with need, clit throbbing against the drag of his cock every time he rolls his hips. Slick had soaked through everything now and you could feel it smearing against him, making the fabric cling obscenely.
“Toji…” His name comes out wrecked, pleading. “Please… need you.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, tender and filthy all at once.
“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, pressing one last soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. Gonna give you everything. But first…”
His hand slid between your bodies and cups your pussy over the shorts, his palm grinds slow against your swollen clit while two thick fingers traces the soaked outline of your lips through the cotton.
“Gonna make you come like this first,” he promises, voice low and wrecked with want. “Just from my hand, m'gonna watch this sweet little thing soak my fingers before I even get inside you. You gonna be good and come for me, baby?”
Your head falls back against the wall, eyes rolling, your hips already chasing his palm in frantic little circles.
“Y-yes… yes, please… Toji…”
He smiles slowly, dangerous and adoring.
“That’s my girl.”
And then he kisses you again deeper and filthy, while his hand works unhurried, perfect little circles over your dripping cunt, building you up slow and sweet until you’re trembling on the edge, ready to fall apart for the quiet neighbour who’d finally let you into his world.
Toji didn’t set you down.
Not even for a second.
The second your shaky “yes” left your lips he scoops you up like you weigh nothing, his big scarred hands sliding under the plush meat of your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor so your legs had no choice but to wrap tight around his narrow waist.
Your soaked shorts presses right against the thick, heavy ridge of his cock straining through his sweatpants, and the friction made you whimper into his mouth — high, the needy sound swallowed by another slow, filthy kiss.
Toji doesn’t even glance at the couch, he heads straight for your bedroom door instead. “Wanna take this where I can spread you out proper. Where I can watch every little thing that pretty face does when I make you come apart.”
Your arms loops around his neck — fingers digging into the short black hair at his nape, clinging like he's the only solid thing left in your world. He carries you down the short hallway like that, feet heavy on the cheap laminate, every step grinding his cock against your dripping pussy through the thin layers. You could feel how hard he is — thick, hot and pulsing, already leaking enough that a damp spot had started blooming on his sweats where your slick had soaked through everything.
Your bedroom door was half-open already. Small room — nothing fancy. Twin bed pushed against one wall with rumpled pastel sheets you hadn’t bothered making, fairy lights strung lazy across the headboard from last semester, a cluttered desk with half-finished college notes and empty energy drink cans. Window cracked, letting in the thick summer night air. It smells faintly like your vanilla body spray and the faint laundry detergent on your sheets.
Toji kicks the door shut behind him, a soft click of the latch sealing you both in and crosses the small space in three strides, he didn’t bother with the light. The glow from a dim lamp on your table and those soft fairy lights was enough — warm, hazy, turning his sharp features golden and making the scar on his mouth look even more wicked when he smirked down at you.
He lowered you slow onto the edge of the mattress carefully, almost worshipful, until your ass hit the comforter and your legs dangles off. But he didn’t step back. Just stayed between your spread thighs, towering, broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with something soft and hungry all at once. Big hands sliding up your sides, under the hem of your hoodie this time, his palms rough and warm dragging slow over the soft curve of your waist, thumbs brushing the underside of your tits through the thin tank. “So fuckin’ soft everywhere. Plush little body just beggin’ to be touched.”
You shiver, your whole body trembling as his hands keep roaming. Up your ribs, over the swell of your breasts, squeezing gently through fabric until your nipples peaks hard against his palms.
Then back down, his fingertips tracing the gentle pooch of your tummy, dipping into the soft dip of your navel, spreading wide to span the width of your lower belly like he was measuring how perfectly you’d fit under him.
His eyes drop lower, locking on the obscene wet spot darkening your shorts. The cotton plastered to your pussy now, every plump, fattened lip outlined clear as day, swollen clit peeking through like a needy little button begging for attention.
Slick soaked all the way through your cotton panties underneath, making the fabric sheer and clinging, showing the glossy sheen of your arousal coating every fold.
“Jesus,” he breathes, almost dazed. “Can’t even hide it, can you? Fat little cunt just printin’ out for me, drippin’ right through everything. Been leakin’ like this since I kissed you on the porch, huh?”
You nodded frantically, cheeks burning, your hips shifting forward on instinct so the soaked crotch of your shorts brushes his thigh.
Toji groans low, a deep rumble in his chest, then leans down, caging you with his arms braced on either side of your hips. His mouth finds your neck — hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing slow from under your ear down the column of your throat. He sucks gently at first, his lips sealing over soft skin, tongue flicking — then harder.
Teeth grazing just enough to sting before he soothes it with slow laps, blooming dark purple bruises one after another like he was marking territory.
“Good girl,” he whispers between sucks, voice muffled against your skin. “Lettin’ me mark you up like this. Gonna look so pretty tomorrow, little love bites all over this sweet neck so everyone knows who’s been takin’ care of you.”
His hands never stops moving, he slides them under your hoodie again, pushing the fabric up slowly until it bunches under your tits. Callused palms dragging over bare skin now, the rough texture making you arch, you let out a faint gasp, as his fingers splays wide over your soft tummy, kneading gently like he couldn’t get enough of how plush you were there.
“Love this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. “This soft little belly. Gonna watch it bounce when I’m fuckin’ you deep later. Gonna feel it quiver when you come all over my cock.”
You were whimpering nonstop now, your brain goopy, thoughts reduced to nothing but the heat of his mouth, the weight of his hands, the slow grind of his hips every time he shifts closer. He was still fully clothed, his tight black shirt stretching over thick pecs and sharp-cut abs, sweatpants slung low but you could feel every ridge of muscle flexing against you when he moved. Solid. Unyielding. Cutting through the thin layers like he was already inside you.
Toji pulls back just enough to look at your face, eyes dark, tender and filthy with want. Thumb brushing over one of the fresh bruises on your throat, a gentle stroke that made you shiver.
“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” he praises, voice low and steady. “Look how pretty you are.” Your eyes were all glassy, lips swollen, pussy so wet he could hear it every time you shift. “Gonna take my time with you, m'gonna touch every inch, talk you through it nice and slow till you’re shakin’ and beggin’.”
One hand slides down, cupping your soaked mound over the shorts, his palm grinding slow against your clit while thick fingers traces the plump outline of your lips through the fabric. Not pushing inside yet. Just petting. Soothing. Building.
“Feel that?” he whispers, pressing firmer so you could feel how your slick squelches against his palm. “That’s all for me. Sweet little thing gettin’ this messy just from my kisses and my hands. Such a good girl. My good girl.”
You moan, loud and broken, your head tipping back as your hips rolls up into his touch.
He kisses you again, his tongue sliding against yours while his hand keeps that lazy rhythm between your thighs. The other stays on your tummy, rubbing slow circles over the soft pudge, possessive and adoring all at once.
“Gonna watch you fall apart, sweetheart,” he promised against your mouth. “Gonna make this pretty pussy cum so hard you see stars. And then I’m gonna do it again. And again. Till you’re too fucked-out to think about anything but me.”
His fingers hooks under the waistband of your shorts slowly tugging it downward, just enough to bare the top of your drenched panties.
“Ready for more?” he murmurs, nipping your bottom lip. “Gonna strip you and kiss every bruise I leave, spread these plush thighs and taste how sweet you are.”
Your answer was a shaky nod, eyes locked on his and pleading.
Toji smiles slow, dangerous and so fucking gentle.
“That’s my girl.”
And then he starts peeling your hoodie off slowly, his hands worshipping every new inch of bare skin he uncovers, mouth following right behind with more soft kisses and praise, ready to unravel you piece by trembling piece on your little twin bed while the summer night presses warm against the window.
Toji pulls back from your neck, his lips shiny with spit, a fresh bruise blooming dark and pretty under your jaw and his eyes drops to your face. You were a wreck already, cheeks flushing hot, eyes glassy and half-lidded, mouth hanging open in soft little pants.
A thin string of drool had slipped from the corner of your lips, trailing slow down your chin like you’d forgotten how to swallow. Fuck. The sight punches straight through him, making his cock twitch hard against the damp front of his sweats, thickening even more until the fat head was outlined clear as day through the gray cotton.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice thick and wrecked. “Look at you droolin’ for me already. Can’t even keep that pretty mouth closed.”
He leans in slow, his big hand cupping the side of your face, thumb sweeping under your lower lip to catch the mess. But instead of wiping it away he just smears it wider and then dips down and licks it up himself, tongue flat and hot dragging slowly from your chin to the corner of your mouth, tasting the sweet-salty mix of your spit and his earlier kisses. You whimper the sound coming out high and broken as he seals his scarred lips over yours again in one sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.
Tongues sliding messy and wet, no rhythm left. Just hunger. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth with a gentle tug and then plunges back in, licking deep into your mouth like he was trying to drink every drop of you.
Drool spilling between your lips, stringing down your chin again, soaking into the collar of your tank. You're making the filthiest little noises, soft, wet glucks every time his tongue licks into you and he groans low against your mouth, swallowing them all down.
“Such a messy girl,” he murmurs between kisses, nipping your tongue. “Doin’ so good though. Lettin’ me lick it all up. My sweet, sloppy baby.”
He breaks the kiss with a wet pop, a string of spit connecting your mouths for a second before it snaps and he sits back on his heels between your spread thighs. His eyes raking down your body slowly, like he was memorizing every inch. Hoodie shoved up to your tits, tank rucked under them so the soft undersides spilled out.
Shorts still on but soaked dark at the crotch, clinging transparently to the plump mound of your pussy. The fat lips were printed perfect through the cotton — swollen, puffy, glossy with thick gluey slick that had leaked through your panties and was now starting to drip down the crease of your thighs, making shiny wet trails on your sheets.
Toji’s mouth waters so hard he has to swallow. His cock was rock-hard now — veined, fattened, throbbing painfully against his sweats. He palmed it once, roughly squeezed it through the fabric, just to take the edge off. The head leaking more, darkening the gray in a fat wet spot right at the tip. But he didn’t care about himself yet. Not when your pretty soaked pussy was right there, begging for his mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice strained. “Look at this messy little thing.” So sticky. So sappy. “Drippin’ all over your bed like you can’t help it.”
He hooks two thick fingers under the waistband of your shorts, slowly tugging it down your hips. You lifted for him on instinct, — a shaky little arch and he peels them off along with your drenched panties in one go. The fabric stuck for a second — clinging to your slick folds before coming free with a wet schlick. Strings of thick, glossy arousal stretching between the cotton and your pussy, snapping slow as he tosses them aside.
Your legs fell open wider, your knees bent, feet planted on the mattress and there it was; your pussymound all shiny and swollen, lips puffy and parted just enough to show the sticky pretty inside. Slick coating everything — thick, gluey strands webbing between your folds, dripping slow down to your tight little hole that clenched on nothing.
Your clit was begging — fattened, flushed dark, peeking out from its hood like it was throbbing for attention. The whole thing glistened under the fairy lights — sappy, cummy, so fucking wet it looked obscene.
Toji groaned deeply, a guttural sound coming from his chest. His hands slid up your plush thighs, spreading you wider, thumbs hooking under the meat where thigh met hip so he could hold you open. Your pussy lips parted more, the sticky strings stretching, then breaking, revealing the creamy mess inside.
“Goddamn,” he whispers, almost to himself. “Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen. All swollen and leaking for me. Gonna taste every drop, baby. Gonna lick this sweet cunt clean till you’re shakin’.”
You whimper high and desperate, your hips twitching up toward his face.
He leaned in slow, his hot breath fanning over your clit first, making it jump. Then his tongue, flat and wide dragged up the entire length of your slit in one long, slow lick. From your dripping hole to the tip of your clit. Thick gluey slick coated his tongue instantly, sweet, tangy, so fucking much of it he had to swallow hard. He groaned against you, the vibration rumbling straight through your core.
“So sweet,” he praised, voice muffled as he licked again — slower this time, savoring it. “Taste like fuckin’ heaven. My good girl’s pussy all creamy and ready. Doin’ so perfect for me.”
His tongue circled your clit, with gentle flicks at first, then slower, broad laps that made your hips buck. One big hand slid up to your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the plush curve, holding you down gentle while his mouth worked. The other kept your thigh spread, thumb stroking soothing circles on the inner meat while he sucked your clit between his lips, a soft pull, then releasing, then pulling again.
You were moaning nonstop loud and wrecked, the sounds filling the small room. Slick gushing fresh with every lick — thick ropes of it coating his chin, dripping down his neck. He didn’t stop, just kept on lapping messy and hungry, his tongue dipping into your tight hole to scoop out more of that gluey cream, then dragging back up to suckle your clit like it was candy.
“Look at her clenchin’,” he murmured between licks, eyes flicking up to watch your face. “So tight and needy. Gonna come for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me drink all this pretty mess while you fall apart?”
His tongue plunged deeper, fucking slow into your hole, then he pulled out to circle your clit again, the hand on your tummy pressed firmer, feeling the way your muscles quivered under his palm.
“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, voice thick with praise. “Doin’ so good. Such a sweet girl lettin’ me eat this pussy. Gonna make you come so hard you soak my face. Then I’m gonna do it again. Gonna keep goin’ till you’re cryin’ my name.”
He sucked harder, his lips sealing around your clit, tongue flicking faster now and your whole body arched, your thighs shaking, hands fisting the sheets, drool slipping from your open mouth again as the pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly.
Toji didn’t let up, he just kept licking slow and filthy, worshipfully talking you through every tremor, every gush of slick, every broken whimper.
“My perfect girl,” he rasped against your dripping cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me taste how good I make you feel.”
And with one more long, slow drag of his tongue — circling your begging clit just right — you shattered.
You came hard, harder than you ever had alone in this little bed with your fingers or with that cheap little vibe tucked in your drawer. Your whole body seized up like lightning hit your spine, thighs clamping around Toji’s head on instinct, plush hips bucking wild against his mouth while thick ropes of slick gushed straight onto his tongue.
Your clit throbbing against his lips — fat, swollen, pulsing like a second heartbeat — and he didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. Just groaned deep into your cunt like the taste of your orgasm was the only thing he’d been starving for all summer.
“Thaaat’s it,” he rasped, voice muffled and wrecked against your dripping folds. “Come all over my face, sweetheart. Fuck, look at her spillin’ for me. So sweet. So fuckin’ messy.”
He kept licking slow, greedy — greedy laps through the aftermath — cleaning up every fresh gush like he couldn’t bear to waste a drop. Your pussy lips were puffy and flushed dark now, glossy with spit and cum, parting easy every time his tongue nudged between them. Slick coated his chin, dripping down his scarred neck in shiny trails, soaked into the collar of his black shirt. The fairy lights caught it all — turning the mess iridescent, obscene, beautiful.
You were shaking, overstimulated already, clit so sensitive it hurt in the best way, but Toji wasn’t done. Not even close. Man-starved didn’t even cover it, he ate like he’d been denied pussy his whole life and yours was the first real meal he’d ever had. Toji after a moment hooked his fingers into the underside of his shirt and pulled it off in one fluid motion.
Then his big hands shoved your thighs wider, thumbs hooking under the crease where thigh met hip, spreading you so open your tight little hole winked at him with every clench.
He pulled back just enough to look, eyes black with hunger, pupils blown wide watching the way your fattened lips trembled, the way thick gluey strings of your arousal stretched between them like spider silk every time you fluttered.
“Goddamn,” he breathed softly. “This pretty cunt’s still cryin’ for more. Look how she’s clenchin’… all tight and needy even after comin’ that hard. Fuck, baby… you’re killin’ me.”
He dove back in — lips sealing over your clit again, sucking soft at first, then harder. Wet, filthy pulls that made your hips jerk, made your back arch off the mattress until your tits spilled free from under the rucked-up tank. His tongue flicked fast over the swollen bud — quick little lashes — then slowed to broad, dragging circles that had you sobbing.
“Toj i— f-fuck — too much — s’too much — ”
“Shhh,” he soothed without stopping, voice vibrating straight through your core. “You can take it. Doin’ so good for me. My perfect girl. Just lemme taste a little more. Gotta drink every drop this sweet pussy’s givin’ me.”
He licked lower, his tongue plunging slow into your tight hole, fucking in and out with lazy thrusts that made obscene wet squelches fill the room. Your walls fluttered around him greedily, sucking at his tongue like they wanted to keep him inside forever. He groaned — deep, guttural — then pulled out just to spit right onto your clit. A thick glob of his saliva landed hot and heavy, mixing with your slick, running down your folds in slow rivulets.
You whimpered, high and broken when he blew a soft puff of air over the mess, his cool breath hitting your overheated, spit-slick clit like ice on fire. Your whole pussy jolted — clit jumping, hole clenching hard enough to push out another bead of thick cream that dripped slow down your ass.
“Fuck yeah,” he growled, watching it with dark, fascinated eyes. “Look at her twitch. Sensitive little thing. Love how she jumps when I blow on her. Gonna make her come again just like this.” You were overstimulated and shaking.
He sucked your clit back into his mouth, gently this time, lips soft around the swollen bud while his tongue lapped slow, soothing circles. One hand slid up your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the soft give of skin, fingers splaying to feel every quiver of your muscles.
The other kept your thigh pinned, thumb stroking slow, reassuring circles on the inner skin like he was petting you through the overstimulation.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured between sucks, pulling off just long enough to speak before diving back in. “Lettin’ me eat this messy cunt even when it’s too much. Takin’ everything I give you. So pretty when you cry for me like this.”
He licked into you again, deeper this time, his tongue curling to scoop out the thickest parts of your cream, feeding it back to your pussy with slow, filthy thrusts. Then he pulled out, lips shiny, chin dripping and spat again. Right onto your hole this time, watching it slide in, mixing with your slick until everything was glossy and obscene.
“Breathe, baby,” he cooed, blowing another soft puff over your clit, watching it throb, watching your hips buck helplessly. “Just breathe. M'gonna make you come again. Gonna suck this pretty clit till you’re soakin’ the sheets even more. Wanna see how many times I can make her gush before you’re beggin’ me to fuck you.”
Your hands flew to his hair — fingers tangling in the black strands, pulling hard enough to make him growl against you. But he loved it, loved the way you were falling apart and drooling again, spit slipping from the corner of your mouth, eyes rolling back as another wave built fast and brutal in your belly.
He sucked harder — lips sealing tight, cheeks hollowing — tongue flicking relentless over your clit while he hummed low, vibrations rumbling straight through you. His free hand pressed firmer on your tummy, feeling the way your muscles clenched, the way your whole body trembled on the edge.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he praised, voice thick and wrecked. “Give it to me. Come all over my tongue again. Let me taste how overstimulated this sweet pussy gets for me. My good girl, my perfect, messy, drippin’ girl.”
One more long, slow drag of his tongue, circling your clit just right, then plunging back into your clenching hole and you shattered again. Harder. Louder, your whole body convulsing, thighs shaking around his head, slick gushing in thick spurts that coated his mouth, his chin and the sheets beneath you.
Toji drank it all — groaning like a man possessed — licking slow through the aftershocks, soothing your twitching clit with soft kitten licks while you sobbed his name, overstimulated and wrecked and still so fucking needy for more.
He finally pulled back — lips swollen, face a mess of spit and cum, his eyes locking on yours with that dark, adoring hunger.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, crawling up your body slow, caging you under his broad frame. “You taste like sin. Like every filthy thing I’ve ever wanted.”
His mouth found yours, in a slow, deep kiss letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Thick fingers sliding between your thighs again and petting your soaked, puffy pussy gentle now, soothing the oversensitive folds.
“Still shakin’,” he murmured against your lips, smiling soft and filthy. “Still drippin’. Think you can take my cock now, sweetheart? Or you need me to eat this pretty cunt one more time first?”
Your answer was a broken whimper — hips canting up toward his hand, begging without words.
He chuckled low, dark and tenderly.
“That’s my girl.”
Toji had finally pulled his mouth off your wrecked pussy — lips swollen dark red, his chin still glistening with thick ropes of your slick and his spit that stretched and snapped every time he moved.
He gave you one more slow, sweet savouring kiss to your sweet little lips before crouching back down between your trembling thighs for a second longer, just staring at the mess he’d made; your fat pussy mound all shiny and puffy, lips parted and drooling slow streams of cream down your ass, onto the already soaked sheets.
Your clit was a throbbing little pearl now — fattened up dark and glossy, peeking out like it was begging for one more touch even after two brutal orgasms. Your tight hole kept clenching on nothing — suckling air, pushing out fresh beads of gluey slick that made obscene wet sounds in the quiet room.
He groaned low, the sound ripping out from deep in his chest and he palmed his cock through his sweats again. Harder this time, giving it a rough squeeze that made the thick vein along the underside jump under his hand.
The front of the gray fabric was wrecked — a dark wet patch spreading from the fat, leaking tip, glossy pre soaking through in thick globs that clinged to the cotton like honey.
You saw the outline perfectly now; his fat fuckin’ cock all hardened up for you, swollen and heavy, curving slightly to the left, the round mushroom head so chubbed and probably flushed it looked angry.
“Fuck, look what you did to me, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice gravel-thick with want. “Got me so hard it hurts. Leakin’ like a faucet just from tastin’ this pretty cunt. You see how much pre I’m givin’ you? All for this messy little pussy.”
He shoved his sweats down slow enough to free himself, then kicked it off completely. His cock sprang out heavy the thick base dusted with dark curls of hair, shaft veined and ridged, fattened tip glossy with a fat pearl of pre that beaded at the pink slit and dripping slow down the underside.
It bobbed once, smacking wet against his abs, before he wrapped one scarred hand around the middle and gave himself one lazy stroke. More pre welled up — thick and clear — dribbling over his knuckles.
Your mouth watered. Your pussy clenched hard — sappy walls fluttering, clit jumping at the sight. You were so wet still — thicker now, gluey strands webbing between your lips every time your hips twitched.
Toji crawled back up your body, slow and carefully caging you in, under his broad frame. One thick forearm braced beside your head, the other hand guiding his cock down between your thighs. He didn’t push in…not yet. Just rubbing slow, filthy drags of that fattened round tip through your glossed folds.
The head was scorching hot — swelled up so big it parted your puffy lips easy, spreading them wide around the blunt crown. Your clammy, glued pussylips sucked at him, clinging wetly every time he dragged back, strings of your slick stretching from your hole to his tip like they didn’t want to let go. He nudged your clit with the slit, smearing thick pre over the aching bud — making it throb harder, making you whimper high and broken.
“Feel that?” he murmurs, voice low and mean-teasing as he rocked slow. “Fat fuckin’ cock all hardened up just for you.” Rubbin’ right through your glossy folds. “Y’er sweet little pussy’s kissin’ me back, suckin’ on the tip like she’s tryin’ to pull me in.”
You nodded — desperately, drool slipping from your open mouth again, hips canting up to chase more friction. Your clit was so achy, fattened and sensitive, every glide of his swollen head over it sent sparks shooting up your spine.
Toji chuckled, the sound breathless and dark — then pressed firmer. The round tip notched right at your entrance, stretching the tight ring just enough to make your hole flutter and suckle greedy around him. Not inside. Just teasing…just enough to feel how hot and wet and ready you were.
“Look how she’s grippin’,” he praised, eyes locked on where your pussy lips hugged the head of his cock — clinging, glossy, dripping. “Tight little hole sucklin’ like she’s starvin’. Fuck, baby, you’re so so wet. Drippin’ all over my dick before I even get in. Such a needy girl.”
He rocked against you slowly again, dragging that fattened tip up your slit to bump your clit, then back down to nudge your hole. Pre mixed with your slick, making everything slippery, obscene, the wet schlick, schlick, schlick filling the room every time he teased. Your clit throbbed harder, achy and begging, every time the ridge of his crown caught it just right.
“Toji…please—” Your voice cracked — high, pleading. “Need it… need you inside…”
He groaned, the deep rumble vibrating through both of you, then leaned down to kiss you lovingly, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against yours while he kept that mean, teasing rhythm; fat tip rubbing through your folds, bumping your clit, nudging your hole, spreading you open without giving you what you craved.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips, voice wrecked with restraint. “Gonna tease this sweet pussy a little longer. Wanna feel how much wetter you get. Wanna watch this fat little cunt cry for my cock till you’re shakin’ and sobbin’.”
One big hand slid under your ass, lifting your hips just enough to change the angle. Now every slow drag had his swollen tip catching right on your entrance — stretching the rim, making your walls flutter desperate around nothing. Your clit dragged along the thick underside of his shaft, veins bumping the sensitive bud, sending fresh gushes of slick coating him.
“Feel how hard I am for you?” he rasped, rocking firmer. All his thick pre leakin’ “Just thinkin’ about sinkin’ into this tight, pretty cunt. You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby. So ready. But I wanna hear you beg a little more. Wanna hear how bad my good girl needs this fat cock stretchin’ her open.”
Your hands flew to his shoulders — nails digging into hard muscle, your hips rolling up frantically to chase his teasing. Slick squelching loud between you, gluey strands clinging to his shaft, dripping down his heavy balls that brushed your ass with every rock.
“Toji… please… fuck m’need you so bad —” You were babbling now, voice wrecked, drool slipping down your chin. “Want your cock… want it deep… please —”
He smiled slow, adoringly and mean, then kissed you again, deep and claiming — while his hips kept that torturous rhythm: fat fuckin’ cock rubbing slow through your glossed folds, teasing your achy clit, nudging your suckling hole, making you drip and clench and beg for the stretch you were dying for.
“Soon, baby,” he promised, voice thick with hunger. “Gonna give you every thick inch. Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so good you’ll feel me for days. But first… keep beggin’. Keep drippin’. Show me how desperate my sweet girl is for it.”
And he kept teasing, relentless — until your whole body was trembling, pussy clenching empty and greedy, clit throbbing achy and swollen, slick pooling under your ass in a sticky puddle while he watched you fall apart under his mean, loving touch.
Toji’s hips stilled for a second, his fat, glossy cockhead still notched right at your entrance, stretching the tight ring of your hole just enough that it fluttered desperately around him. Your clammy, slick walls were sucking greedily at the swollen tip, like your pussy was trying to pull him deeper even while fighting the stretch. He was so fuckin’ thick, the round mushroom head bloated and veined, ridged crown — catching on every soft fold as he pushed forward slowly, agonizingly slow.
You gasped high and sharp the sound cracking into a whimper — back arching off the mattress, plush thighs trembling where they were hooked over his hips. Your hole clenched hard on instinct — clammy, hot and so so tight it made his breath hitch rough in his throat.
“Fuck.. easy, sweetheart,” voice low and wrecked, one big scarred hand sliding under your ass to lift your hips just a fraction higher. “You’re grippin’ me like a vice already and I’ve barely got the tip in. So fuckin’ tight… this pretty little cunt’s never taken anything this big, huh?”
You shook your head — frantic little jerks — drool slipping from the corner of your mouth again as you stared up at him with glassy, pleading eyes.
Your clit still achy and swollen from his teasing, throbbing every time the base of his shaft dragged against it on accident. Slick poured out around his tip — thick, gluey strands coating the fat crown, dripping down his heavy balls in slow, shiny rivulets.
Toji groaned gutterally, his forehead dropping to rest against yours for a second while he fought not to just slam home. His cock throbbing hard inside that tiny stretch — veins pulsing against your clenching walls, pre leaking in fat drops that mixed with your cream and made everything even messier.
“Look at you tryin’ so hard for me,” he praised, voice soft and thick with adoration even as his hips rocked in tiny, teasing nudges. “Takin’ just the tip like such a good girl. Feel how she’s suckin’ on me? Fuck…your hole’s so tight and wet, baby. Grippin’ like she don’t ever wanna let go.”
He pushed forward another fraction — barely an inch more and your pussy resisted, walls fluttering wild around the fattened ridge of his crown. The stretch burned sweet — hot, the aching fullness made your toes curl and your nails rake down his broad back. A fresh gush of slick squirted out around him, coating his shaft, dripping onto the sheets in a sticky puddle.
“Haaah —Toji ” Your voice broke, high and wrecked, hips twitching up like you couldn’t decide if you wanted more or needed a second to breathe.
“Shhh, I got you,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth gently-sweet — tongue flicking out to catch the drool on your chin. “Doin’ so perfect. So so tight for me… gonna make it fit, yeah? Gonna stretch this sweet little pussy slow till she’s huggin’ every thick inch. You’re my good girl, my perfect, drippin’ girl. Just breathe for me.”
His free hand slid up your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the plushness there, fingers splaying to feel the way your muscles quiver under him. He rocked again — tiny, shallow thrusts that barely moved the tip in and out, just enough to let your walls flutter and adjust around the blunt head.
Every nudge made obscene wet sounds, — schlick- schlick-schlick — your slick squelching loudly around him, strings of it clinging to his veined shaft like they were trying to keep him buried.
“Feel that burn, baby?” he cooed, voice low and praising as he watched your face — eyes locking on every flutter of your lashes, every tremble of your lips. “That’s me openin’ you up. So tight it’s squeezin’ the cum right outta me… fuck, you’re leakin’ all over my cock. Such a messy, needy cunt. Love how she’s fightin’ me and still beggin’ for more.”
He pushed again — slower this time — watching with dark, hungry eyes as another inch sank in. Your hole stretched wider, your puffy lips hugging the thickest part of his crown, clinging glossy and white-knuckled around him. The stretch was obscene — your clit jumping every time the ridge dragged over it on the way in, fresh cream bubbling out to coat him.
“Haaah — fuck — there we go,” he breathed, thumb stroking slow circles over your lower belly where he could feel the faint bulge starting to form just from the tip and a little more. “Look at that… already makin’ a pretty little bump and I’m not even halfway. So fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. Takin’ me like you were made for it.”
You were sobbing softly now, broken little sounds as your hips canted up helplessly, trying to take more even as your walls spasmed around the invasion. Slick pouring steadily, thick and gluey — drenching his balls, soaking the sheets under your ass in a warm, sticky mess.
Toji leaned down and kissed you deep and slow, his tongue sliding against yours while he kept those tiny, rocking thrusts. Just the tip popping in and out, stretching you open, teasing your clenching hole, making your clit throb against the veined underside every time he pulled back.
“Doin’ so good,” he whispers into your mouth between kisses. “My sweet girl takin’ just the tip so perfectly. Gonna keep goin’ slow, gonna make it fit inch by inch till this fat cock’s buried deep where you need it. You feel how hard I am for you? How much I’m leakin’? All ‘cause this tight little pussy’s grippin’ me like she never wants me to leave.”
One more gentle push and another thick inch goes sliding in and your back bows, a moan ripping out loud and raw as your walls flutter wild around him. He stills again, letting you adjust, his forehead pressing to yours, breath ragged.
“Almost there, baby,” he praises, voice thick with restraint and adoration. “So so tight… but you’re takin’ me so good. My perfect girl. Gonna fill you up soon, m’gonna stretch this sticky hole till it’s huggin’ every veiny inch. Ahh — Just a little more… just breathe and let me make it fit.”
His thumb finds your clit, and circles over the swollen bud slow and gently while he rocks another inch in shallow, keeping you on that razor edge of stretch and pleasure. Slick gushing fresh with every tiny thrust — coating him, dripping down, making the slide just a little easier even as your pussy fights to keep him right where he is.
“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your tear-streaked cheek. “Tell me how full you are already… how much you need the rest.”
Your answer is a broken whimper, your hips rolling up desperately, pussy clenching hard around just the tip and a little more now.
“Need… need all of you… please, Toji —”
He smiles slow, filthy but so fucking tender, then kisses you again, deep and claiming while his hips started that slow, relentless push forward again.
“That’s my girl,” he rasps against your lips. “Gonna give you everything. Gonna make this tight little cunt take every thick inch till you’re cryin’ and comin’ all over me.”
And inch by torturous inch he keeps making it fit. Slow. Sweet. Praising you through every clench, every gush, every trembling stretch until your pussy finally starts to yield — walls fluttering open, sucking him deeper, greedily and wrecked and so so ready for the rest.
Then Toji’s patience snapped like a thin wire, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest as his big scarred hands clamped around your soft waist. No warning. No gentle coaxing. Just raw, starving need. He grabs your little body like it was his to manhandle, his rough palms digging into your plush hips, flipping you onto your side in one swift yank that made the mattress springs squeak protest.
“Fuck ah I-I can’t take it anymore,” he rasps, voice thick and wrecked. “Need to go deeper. Need this tight cunt stuffed full, m’gonna make her take every fuckin’ inch now.”
He drags you down the bed, the sheets tangling around your ankles, until your ass hangs off the edge just enough, cheeks jiggling from the rough pull. Your face mashed into the rumpled comforter — cheek smushing against the soft fabric, drool already pooling under your agape mouth.
One hand flew out on instinct, your fingers clutching the fluffy stuffed bear you keep on the pillow (the one with the little bow tie you’d had since middle school), knuckles white as you gripped it like a lifeline while your body arches helplessly.
Toji presses your legs together, his thick thighs pressing your plush ones tight, forcing your chubby little cunt to pucker even more obscenely. Your fat pussy lips squished together now, glossy and swollen, the plump folds mashed into one slick, puffy seam that barely parts for the fat pink tip still teasing your entrance.
The position makes everything tighter — your gummy walls clenching harder, clit trapped between those squeezed-together lips, throbbing achy and trapped against the pressure.
He lines up, his veined, thick cock — throbbing heavy in his fist — and pushes in.
No slow tease this time.
The fat crown spears past your puckered entrance with a wet, filthy pop — stretching those mashed-together lips wide around his girth. Your hole sucking greedily and clenching so tight it made his eyes roll back, but he doesn’t stop.
Just keeps feeding inch after thick, veined inch into your poor stuffed cunt, the squeeze so intense it forces thick ropes of your gooey cream to bubble out around him, coating his shaft in shiny white strands that drip slow down your inner thighs.
“Haah… fuck — listen to her,” he groans, hips snapping forward harder now that the angle let him sink deeper. “This chubby little cunt’s cryin’ so loud for me. Squeezin’ like she’s scared I’ll pull out… but she’s suckin’ me right back in. Fuckin’ perfect.”
You wail high, lewd and broken, your cries muffled into the mattress — voice cracking every time his cock punches deeper. Never been fucked like this, with legs squeezed shut making your pussy feel impossibly smaller, every ridge and vein dragging slow and mean along your gummy walls.
Your fat lips puckering tight around his base — stretching thin and glossy, clinging desperately like they were made to mold to his shape. The pressure mashes your clit right against the thick underside of his shaft — rubbing it raw with every brutal thrust, sending sparks shooting up your spine until your toes curl hard.
Toji loses it completely.
Big hands gripping your hips — fingers sinking into soft flesh hard enough to bruise, and he starts pounding. Deep, mean strokes that bottoming out with a wet slap every time his heavy balls smacks your clit.
Precum and your thick cream mixing into a frothy mess squirting out around his cock with every pull-back, dripping in sticky webs down your thighs, soaking the edge of the bed where your ass hangs off.
“Goddamn, look at this mess you’re makin’,” he pants, voice rough and praising all at once. “Gooey little pussy just spillin’ everywhere f’me. So fuckin’ cute how she’s creamin’ all over my dick… takin’ it so deep even when she’s squeezes this tight. My good girl…my filthy, drippin’ girl.”
Your cries turn desperate — muffled sobs into the stuffed bear you are clutching, tears streaking hot down your cheeks. Every thrust punches the air out of your lungs, his cockhead kissing your cervix mean and relentless, stretching your gummy walls wide around his veined thickness.
Your clit rubs mercilessly against him — trapped between those puckered lips, swollen and throbbing, building that coil tighter and tighter until your whole body shakes.
“Feel that?” he growles, leaning over you, his broad chest pressing to your back, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours. One hand slides up to cup your soft tummy — palm pressing down so he can feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. “Feel how deep I am, baby? Stuffin’ this chubby cunt so full she’s leakin’ like a faucet. Gonna make you come like this.” legs squeezed tight, clit rubbed raw and pussy stretched mean around every thick inch of his.
He snaps his hips harder, the angle perfect now, his cock dragging right over that spongy spot inside while his shaft grinds against your trapped clit. Slick squelches loud and obscene, wet slaps filling the room, your gooey cream frothing white at the base of his cock, dripping in thick strands every time he pulls back.
You shatter hard.
Whole body convulsing, walls clamping down like a vice around his pounding cock, milking him greedily as you scream into the mattress. Fresh gushes of slick squirting out around him, hot and messy, soaking his balls, drenching the sheets, making every thrust even sloppier. Your clit throbs wild against him — overstimulated and raw, sending aftershocks after aftershock rippling through you until your legs shake uncontrollably.
Toji groans deep and feral, his hips stuttering as your pussy sucks him in tight.
“Fuck… Aaah yeah, come on my cock, sweetheart,” he praises, voice breaking with how close he was. “Squeezin’ so fuckin’ tight… makin’ such a cute mess f’er me. Good girl, my perfect, pretty girl. Gonna fill this stuffed cunt up soon… gonna pump you so full you’ll be leakin’ me for days.”
He didn’t stop, Toji kept fucking you through it, with mean, deep thrusts that made your ass jiggle, made your cries turn hoarse and wrecked. His veined cock dragged slow and filthy through your fluttering walls — still so tight from your legs squeezed together and clit still rubbing helpless against him with every slam.
“Haah mhnm fuck…m’not done yet,” he rasps, hand sliding down to spread one cheek, exposing where you were stretched obscene around him. “Gonna keep, ah goin’. Gonna ruin this pretty pussy till she’s cryin’ for more… till you’re so full of cum you can’t move.”
And he did — pounding harder, deeper, meaner all while you clutched your stuffed bear tighter, face buried in the mattress, drooling and sobbing and coming undone again and again around his thick cock that finally fit all the way inside your chubby, gooey, perfect little cunt.
Toji’s hips roll in one long, deliberate drag — pulling back just enough that his thick, veined cock starts to slip free from your stuffed little hole. Your sloppy pussy doesn't want to let go. Gummy walls clenching down hard — squeezin’ greedy around every ridge and bump like they’re scared he’d leave you empty.
His foreskin bunches up soft and slick around the fattened base of his crown as he withdraws — pink tip glistening obscene with a thick coat of your cream and his own sappy pre, strings of it stretching taut between your puffy lips and his shaft before snapping wetly against your inner thighs.
You whine high and utterly broken, face mashed deeper into the mattress, your cheek smushed against the soft fur of your stuffed bear, fingers clutching the little plush thing so tight the seams strained. Drool still pooling under your slacked maw, soaking the fabric while your hips twitch back helplessly, chasing the stretch even as he teases you with the slow retreat.
“Fuck haah… listen to that,” he rasps, voice low and filthy-thick with awe. “This nasty lil’ pussy’s makin’ the sloppiest sounds just ‘cause I’m pullin’ out. Squelchin’ like she’s beggin’ me to stay buried. So fuckin’ greedy, baby.”
He didn’t let you go empty for long.
Right when the fat pink tip was almost out — your hole fluttering desperately around the ridge, he leaned over you again, his broad chest pressing hot to your back — and spat. A thick, heavy glob of spit landing right on your stretched entrance — hot and messy — sliding down the puffy seam of your mashed-together pussylips before dripping slow into the clenching ring still hugging his crown, the added slick made everything even nastier, your syrup-thick cream mixing with his spit, bubbling white and frothy where your walls gripped him.
Toji groans deep, a rumble that vibrates straight through you as he pushes forward again. Slow and mean, feeding every thick inch back into your pussy until his hips slapped flush against your ass, his balls heavy and wet smacking your clit trapped between those squeezed thighs. Your pussy sucking him in greedy — gummy walls fluttering wild, clinging so tight it made his eyes roll back.
“Haah…there we go,” he praises, hands clamping harder on your soft waist — fingers sinking into plush flesh like you really are his personal fleshlight, something soft and warm and perfect to use. “Takin’ me all the way again. Feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” His cockhead now kissin’ your cervix… — mngh "Stretchin’ this sloppy hole wide. God your pussy’s so fuckin’ good. So tight even after all that cream you just gushed.”
He drew back again slowly and torturous, watching the way your fat pussylips dragged along his veined shaft, clinging glossy and swollen, trying to keep him inside. Nasty lil’ squelches filling the room — wet, obscene pops every time he pulls out halfway — your syrup-thick pussy noisily protesting, cream bubbling out in thick white rings around his base, dripping slow down your inner thighs in sticky trails that soaked the edge of the mattress.
Your sobbing is muffled into the stuffed bear, your whole body trembling as he manhandles you deeper into the bed. One big hand slides up your spine — pushing your face firmer into the comforter, while the other grips your waist harder, yanking your hips back to meet every slow, punishing thrust.
He spreads your fat pussylips wider with his thumbs — peeling them apart even as your legs stay squeezed tight together — exposing the glossy pink inside where his thick cock splits you open.
“Look at her stretch,” he growls, voice wrecked with how good it feels. Your plump lil’ lips puckering so tight around him… huggin’ every veiny inch like she was made for his cock. “Fuck mhng baby, you’re ruinin’ me. This pussy’s too perfect… too sloppy… too fuckin’ tight.”
He bottoms out again, harder this time, his cockhead bullying deep until you feel that familiar bulge in your lower tummy, the faint swell under his palm when he presses down. Your clit rubbed raw against the underside of his shaft — trapped and throbbing — every drag sending fresh sparks through your overstimulated nerves until your thighs shake uncontrollably.
Toji didn’t speed up. Didn’t rush. Just kept that slow, deep pace — drawing back until only the fat tip stretched your entrance, then sinking all the way in with one long, filthy glide. Each pull-out made your pussy squelch louder — cream frothing white at his base, dripping in thick ropes — each push-in forcing more of your gooey slick to bubble out around him, coating his balls, soaking your ass cheeks, turning everything into a warm, sticky mess.
“God mhm feel that?” he rasps, leaning down to nip the shell of your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “How your pussy’s clenchin’ every time I try to pull out? Squeezin’ like she doesn't ever wanna be empty. My good girl… my perfect, drippin’ girl. Takin’ this thick cock so deep… makin’ such cute, nasty noises for me.”
His hands tighten on your waist — using you like he owns you — pulling your hips back to meet every slow, punishing thrust while he grounds deeper, letting the fat crown drag over that spongy spot inside until your cries turn hoarse and wrecked.
Your stuffed bear was crushed against your chest now, your fingers white-knuckled and face buried so deep in the mattress you could barely breathe around the drool and tears.
He spat again, a thick glob landing right where you were stretched widest around him — watching it slide in, mixing with the mess until everything was even slicker and messier.
“Not stoppin’,” he promises, voice low and filthy-sweet. “Gonna keep fuckin’ this little pussy… till she’s cryin’ and cumin’ again. Till you’re so full of my cum you can’t move, doll Till every time I pull out you’re squirtin’ that syrup-thick cream all over me.”
One more long, slow drag out and your pussy noisily protests with wet, lewd squelches, then he sinks back in deep, bottoming out with a wet slap that made your ass jiggle, clit grind hard against him, walls fluttering wild around every thick, veined inch of his.
“Haah…fuck t-there’s my girl,” he groans, kissing the back of your neck soft and filthy. “Takin’ it so good… makin’ me lose my fuckin’ mind. Gonna keep usin’ you just like this… slow… aah… till you’re nothin’ but a creamy, shakin’ mess for me.”
And he did, he kept that torturous rhythm, his hands bruising your waist, cock stretching your sloppy hole wide, foreskin bunched… slick, spit and cream mixing into the nastiest mess while you clutch your stuffed toy for dear life, sobbing his name into the mattress, pussy clenching greedily and wrecked around his thick cock that owned you completely.
Toji’s hips stayed buried deep, his thick cock throbbing hot and heavy inside your stuffed pussy, every veiny inch hugged so tight by your gummy walls that pulling out even an inch felt like fighting gravity. But he didn’t need to thrust right now.
Not when he had you exactly where he wanted; face-down, ass-up on the edge of your bed, legs squeezed shut, chubby pussy lips puckered and swollen around the base of his shaft like a glossy, creamy ring.
Your pretty little hole was still fluttering around him — suckling greedily on every ridge, even after the last brutal orgasm ripped through you, leaving your thighs trembling and slick dripping in slow, syrupy ropes down the insides of your legs.
He leaned over you, his broad chest pressing hot to your back, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours, until his scarred lips brushed the shell of your ear.
One big hand stayed clamped on your soft waist, fingers digging possessive bruises into plush flesh, while the other slid down between your squeezed-together thighs.
Rough callused fingertips found your puffed-out clit immediately — swollen, fat and glossy from all the rubbing, peeking out from between those mushed puffy lips like a needy little button begging for more.
“Fuck haah… look at this messy thing,” voice low and wrecked with hunger. “So puffed up… so gooey and sappy from comin’ all over my cock. Can’t even hide how bad she wants it.”
His fingers started moving in filthy, lazy circles right over your swollen bud. Not fast. Not rough. Just slow, perfect rubs that made your clit jump and throb under the pad of his middle finger.
He smeared your own thick cream around it — mixing it with the frothy white ring still clinging to his base — making every glide slicker, hotter, nastier. Your pussy clenched hard around his buried cock in response — walls fluttering wild, milking him greedy even though he wasn’t moving yet.
You whimper high, the broken sound muffled into the stuffed bear you were still clutching like it could save you from how good it felt. Drool soaked the plush's fur, tears streaking hot down your cheeks, whole body shaking as those filthy circles kept coming — round n’ round, a slow pressure that built the ache back up fast.
“Haah… m’can’t stop touchin’ you, baby,” he groaned against your neck, nipping the soft skin where he’d already left dark bruises. “Even if I tried… fuck, this little clit’s too perfect. So fat and slippery… jumpin’ every time I rub right here.”
He pressed firmer, his middle finger circling tighter now, thumb hooking under to spread your puffy lips just enough to expose more of that sensitive pearl.
The motion dragging his cock the tiniest bit inside you — barely a rock, just enough to let the fat crown nudge your spongy spot while his fingers worked your clit relentlessly. Fresh slick gushed out around him, thick and syrupy — coating his hand, dripping down his wrist in warm rivulets that soaked into the sheets.
Your hips bucked back helplessly, your ass jiggling against his pelvis, trying to grind into his touch even as your pussy clenched tighter around the thick intrusion splitting you open.
Every filthy circle sent sparks shooting straight up your spine, your clit throbbed so hard it hurt in the sweetest way, walls spasming around his cock like they were trying to pull him even deeper.
“Goddamn…ya feel that?” he murmured, voice thick with praise and filth. “How your cunt ’s grippin’ me every time I rub this pretty clit? Squeezin’ like she’s beggin’ for more even though she’s already stuffed full. My good girl… my perfect, drippin’ mess. Look how she’s leakin’ just from my fingers. So fuckin’ sensitive.”
He sped up just a fraction, circles turning tighter, faster. The pad of his finger flicking quick over the swollen tip of your clit before smoothing back into those slow, filthy loops.
Your cries turned desperate, hoarse and wrecked, sobs muffled into the bear as your thighs shook harder, pussy fluttering wild around his cock. Thick cream bubbled out with every clench — frothing white at his base, dripping in sticky strands that clung to his heavy balls.
Toji groaned deep and feral, his hips finally rocking once, a slow, deep grind that dragged every veined inch along your gummy walls while his fingers never stopped. The dual sensation punched the air out of your lungs, clit rubbed raw and throbbing, cunt stretched wide and filled to the brim.
“Can’t get enough of touchin’ you,” he confessed, voice breaking with how wrecked he was. “This puffed-out little clit… so gooey and sappy… jumpin’ under my fingers like it’s alive. Fuck…baby, you’re gonna come again just like this. Gonna make this fat pussy squirt all over my hand while I’m still buried balls-deep.”
He pinched your clit gently, rolling it between thumb and finger, then went right back to those filthy circles, smearing more of your cream around the swollen bud until it glistened obscene under the fairy lights. Your whole body seized, your back arching hard, ass pressing back desperately against him, your narrow walls clamping down like a vice around his thick cock.
“That’s it ahh…come for me again,” he praised, lips brushing your ear, breath hot and ragged. “Let me feel this pussy milk me while I rub this pretty clit raw. My sweet girl… my filthy, pretty girl… gush for me, baby. Show me how much you love it when I can’t stop touchin’ you.”
One more tight, filthy circle pressed hard right over the tip and you shatter.
Whole body convulsing, pussy clamping down brutally around his cock, walls fluttering wild as thick spurts of slick squirted out around him, hot and messy — soaking his hand, drenching his thighs, pooling warm under your ass on the already wrecked sheets.
Your clit throbbed helplessly under his fingers, overstimulated and raw, sending aftershock after aftershock ripping through you until your legs gave out completely.
Toji didn’t pull his hand away. Just kept those slow, soothing circles, gentler now — petting your puffed-out clit through the tremors while his cock stays buried deep, throbbing hard inside your fluttering, creamy cunt.
“Haah…fuck…there’s my girl,” he sighs, kissing the back of your neck soft and filthy. “Comin’ so hard just from my fingers… makin’ such a cute, sloppy mess. Can’t stop touchin’ you, baby. Not when this little clit’s still jumpin’ for me… not when your pussy’s still grippin’ me like she never wants me to stop.”
He rocked once, letting you feel every thick inch while his fingers kept circling lazy, keeping you right on that overstimulated edge.
“Gonna keep goin’,” he promises, voice low and wrecked with adoration. “Gonna keep rubbin’ this pretty clit… keep fuckin’ you slow… till you’re cryin’ and squirting again. Till you’re nothin’ but a shakin’, creamy mess for me. My perfect girl… my filthy little thing… all mine.”
And he did, his fingers never stopping those filthy circles, cock grinding deep and slow, turning you into a drooling, trembling puddle while your stuffed bear stayed clutched tight in your shaking hands, soaked with tears and drool and the endless proof of how good he made you feel.
Toji’s cock was buried to the hilt, his thick-veined base flush against your swollen puffy lips, heavy balls pressed hot to your clit like they belonged there. Your little fat pussy was stretched obscene around him, your gummy walls parted wide, clinging desperate to every ridged inch like they’d forgotten how to close.
You were gaped already, your poor hole fluttering open every time he stayed still too long, the rim puffy and flushed dark pink, glistening with thick layers of your syrupy cream and his endless pre. Slick dripping steady from where you were joined, slow, sticky ropes that clung to his shaft, webbing down to his balls, pooling warm under your ass on the wrecked sheets.
Shaking, your whole body trembling, face still mashed into the mattress, drool soaking the stuffed bear you clutched like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your cries had turned hoarse, soft and wrecked whimpering every time his cock throbbed deep inside, nudging that spongy spot that made your toes curl and your tummy quiver.
He groans low, the sound ripping from his chest like it hurt to feel how tight you still were even after all the pounding, big scarred hands gripped your soft waist harder, his fingers sinking into plush flesh, holding you exactly where he wanted while he started to pull out.
Slow.
Agonizingly slow.
The drag was filthy, every veined inch sliding free with wet, obscene schlicks that filled the room. Your pussy lips dragged along his shaft, puffy and glossy, clinging greedily like they didn’t want to let go. The fat pink crown caught on your rim, stretching it wider one last time before popping free with a lewd, sucking pop.
Your hole gaped open immediately, pink and wrecked, fluttering helplessly around nothing, thick strings of cream stretching from your entrance to his dripping tip like obscene bridges before snapping wet against your inner thighs.
“Haah…fuck…look at that,” he said disbelieving,“This little hole’s gaped so pretty for me… still clenchin’ like she’s missin’ me already. So fuckin’ sloppy, baby. Drippin’ everywhere just ‘cause I pulled out.”
You whimpered, hips twitching back instinctively, chasing the emptiness even as your walls fluttered wild. But Toji wasn’t done teasing.
He lined up again, the fat tip nudging your gaping entrance, smearing thick pre over the stretched rim, then he pushed.
Deeper.
Harder.
One long, brutal glide that sank every thick inch back inside until his hips slapped flush against your ass, cockhead bullying past your cervix, stirring your guts up in that dizzying, overwhelming way that made your eyes roll back.
You felt him everywhere. Hot, heavy fullness stretching from your stuffed hole all the way up like he was rearranging you from the inside. Your tummy bulged faintly under his palm when he pressed down, feeling the outline of his cock moving deep, claiming every inch of your soft insides.
“Fuuuck…there it is,” he growled, hips grinding slow circles now, letting you feel him throb against your deepest walls. “Feel me in your throat, sweetheart? Stirrin’ up your guts… makin’ this pretty pussy taking me so deep she’s cryin’. My good girl… my perfect, stretched-out girl.”
Your cries turning guttural and raw, sounds muffled into the bear as he starts thrusting again, long punishing strokes that pull almost all the way out every time, only to slam back in deeper, harder, stirring your insides into a gooey, creamy mess. Slick squirting out with every pull-back, thick and white-frothed, coating his shaft, dripping down your thighs in warm rivers that soaked everything beneath you.
Then his thick thumb found your tight puckered asshole.
He didn’t ask…Didn’t tease.
Just pressed the blunt pad right against your clenched ring — hot, callused pressure that made your whole body jolt. Your hole fluttering instinctive, tight and untouched, trying to push him out even as your pussy clenched harder around his pounding cock.
“Shhh…relax for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low and filthy-sweet against your ear. ‘m'gonna plug this pretty little hole too. Keep you so full… till you’re shakin’ and sobbin’ for me.”
He pushes in so…so carefully, his thick thumb breaching the tight ring with a soft pop. The stretch burning sweet… the foreign fullness made your back arch hard, ass pushing back desperately onto both intrusions. Your asshole clamping down greedily around his thumb, sucking him into the first knuckle, while your pussy flutters wildly around his thick cock, walls spasming so hard it milks another thick spurt of pre deep inside you.
“Haah…fuck y-yeah,” he groans, thumb sinking deeper, and a slow twist of his thumb... has your hole clenching and fluttering around him. “Takin’ my thumb so good… tight little ass huggin’ me just like your pussy. Feel that? Both holes ngh stuffed f-full”… his cock stirrin’ your guts, thumb pluggin’ up your pretty asshole. “You’re mine, baby. All fuckin’ mine.”
He starts moving — thumb rocking shallow in time with his deep thrusts, cock slamming home every time his thumb pushes in, pulling out together in a filthy rhythm that makes your whole body rock forward into the mattress. Your clit rubbed raw against the sheets now — trapped and throbbing — every grind sending fresh sparks through your overstimulated nerves until tears streamed hot down your cheeks.
Your cries were nonstop, hoarse, wrecked sobs into your stuffed bear, your body trembling violently as he fucked you deeper, thumb plugging your ass, cock stretching your gaped pussy wide. Slick gushing with every thrust, thick, creamy ropes squirting out around his base, soaking his hand where it worked your plugged hole, drenching the bed in a warm, sticky puddle.
“God…look at you,” he praised, voice breaking with how close he was. “Takin’ everything… Such a good girl… my girl. Gonna make you come like this… gonna feel you milk me till I’m pumpin’ you full.”
He ground deeper, thumb twisting slow inside your tight ass, bulbous cockhead bullying your cervix, stirring everything up until the pressure coiled unbearable in your belly.
“Come for me, baby.” he says softly, lips brushing your tear-streaked cheek gently.
One more deep, brutal thrust, thumb sinking to the base, cock slamming home fully and you shattered.
Whole body convulsing, pussy clamping like a vice around his thick shaft, asshole fluttering wild around his thumb, clit throbbing helpless against the friction. Thick spurts of slick squirts out around him — hot and messy — soaking everything as you scream his name into the bear, tears and drool mixing on the sheets.
Toji goes all breathless, hips stuttering as your walls milked him ruthlessly.
“Fuck...yeah…take it, baby,” he pants, grinding deep through your orgasm. “Gonna come… gonna fill this pretty little cunt… gonna plug you so full you’ll feel me for days.”
And with one last deep thrust, thumb buried in your ass, cock throbbing hot and heavy inside your stuffed, creamy hole he starts to spill. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your gummed walls — pulse after pulse — stirring your insides even more as he keeps grinding slow, keeping you plugged front and back while you shook and sobbed and came undone completely around him.
And Toji Zenin still wasn’t done touching you.
Not by a long shot.
Toji finally eased his thumb out of your twitching little asshole, slow and careful, letting the tight ring flutter shut with a soft, wet sound that made your whole body shiver one last time. His cock slipped free next, his thick length dragging along your ruined walls until the fat crown popped out with a lewd, sucking pop.
A hot gush of cum followed immediately, thick, creamy ropes spilling from your gaping pussy in slow, obscene waves, dripping down your inner thighs, pooling sticky and warm beneath your ass on the already-soaked sheets.
You were trembling, completely spent, limbs heavy and breath coming in shaky little pants, face still buried halfway into the rumpled comforter with drool stringing from the corner of your swollen lips. Your stuffed bear was crushed, forgotten against your chest, fur matted and damp from tears and spit and everything else.
Toji didn’t move away.
He rolled you gently, almost tenderly — onto your back, big scarred hands sliding under your soft thighs and waist to lift you like you weighed nothing. He settled between your spread legs again, kneeling tall over you, sweat-glistening chest heaving while he looked down at the absolute mess he’d made of his pretty girl.
Your pussy was wrecked, lips puffy and dark, gaping open just enough to show the creamy white mess inside, clit still swollen and flushed, twitching with aftershocks. Cum leaked out in lazy pulses, mixing with your own slick, running in glossy trails down your perineum.
But his eyes softened when they reached your face.
All tear-streaked cheeks, glassy eyes, puffy lips still shining with spit.
“My pretty girl,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked but so fucking gentle now it made your chest ache.
He leaned down slow, his big heated body blanketing yours without crushing you and cups your face in both rough palms. Thumbs brushed away the fresh tears clinging to your lashes, smearing them gently across your flushed skin.
Toji didn’t pull out.
Not even a little.
He stayed buried to the root, his thick, heavy cock throbbing slow and deep inside your stuffed cunt, every veiny inch hugged so tight by your gummy walls it felt like your pussy had forgotten how to exist without him filling it. The fat pink crown was pressed right up against your cervix — hot, insistent pressure that made your tummy flutter every time his heartbeat pulsed through the shaft.
Cum was already leaking — thick, sticky ropes of it flooding your insides from the last brutal spill, so much that you could feel the warm, syrupy weight of it pooling deep in your guts, pressing against your walls like liquid heat.
Your poor hole was gaped just enough around his base, puffy lips stretched thin and glossy, clinging desperate to the thickest part of him like they were scared he’d slip free. But he wasn’t going anywhere, he just held you there, his hips flush to your ass, one big scarred hand splayed wide over your soft tummy so he could feel the faint swell where his cock and all that cum was making you bulge ever so slightly from the inside.
“Shhh… just like this, sweetheart,” he murmured low against the back of your neck, lips brushing damp skin in soft, lazy kisses. “Just cock warming. No more fuckin’ right now. Gonna let this pretty pussy soak in every drop I gave her… keep her nice and full, yeah?”
You whimpered — soft, a wrecked little sound muffled into the stuffed bear still clutched tight to your chest. Your whole body was trembling, overstimulated, oversensitive, thighs quivering where they were still squeezed shut and held down beneath his weight.
Slick and cum mixed into a warm, sticky mess between you, dripping slowly out around his base in thick, pearly strands that clung to your inner thighs, soaking the sheets in a warm puddle that smelled like sex and him and you all tangled together.
He shifted then, just a tiny rock of his hips, not thrusting, just enough to let his cock stir the cum inside you. The movement made a wet, filthy squelch, your walls fluttering greedy around him, milking another thick bead of leftover seed that oozed deeper into your guts.
You felt it, hot and slippery coating every inch of your gummy insides, threatening to drool out if he moved too much, but he didn’t. He just held you closer — arm banding around your waist, palm pressing firmer over that soft little bulge in your tummy like he was proud of how full he’d made you.
“Look how cute you are,” he whispered, voice rough and tender all at once. “Face all flushed… droolin’ on your lil’ bear… pussy so full of my cum she’s practically purring. My pretty girl… my perfect girl.”
He turned your face gently with scarred fingers under your chin, tilting you just enough so he could lean over your shoulder and kiss you slow. Soft at first — scarred lips brushing yours, tasting the salt of your tears and the cherry gloss long smeared away. Then deeper, tongue sliding lazy against yours, swallowing every tiny whimper you gave him while his cock stayed perfectly still inside you, just throbbing, just warming, just owning.
You moaned into his mouth, a soft and needy sound as another warm trickle of cum leaked out around his base, sliding slow down your puffy lips. Your clit still swollen and achy, brushed the underside of his shaft with every tiny shift, sending little aftershocks through your core that made your walls flutter and clench around him again.
“Haah…fuck — there she goes,” he groaned against your lips, kissing you deeper, filthier. “Clenchin’ so sweet even when she’s just holdin’ me. Feel all that cum sloshin’ around inside you? So warm… so sticky… gonna keep it all plugged up in there till it’s leakin’ out slow outta you.”
His free hand slid up and cupped the side of your face, thumb stroking slow over your tear-streaked cheek while he kissed you again and again. Forehead pressed to yours now, breath mingling hot and ragged, his green eyes dark and soft as he stared down at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
“You’re so fuckin’ cute like this,” he murmured, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead — lingering, reverent. “All hugged up on my cock… pussy threatenin’ to drool my cum everywhere but still grippin’ me so tight. My good girl… my sweet, stuffed girl. Just stay like this for me, yeah? Let me keep you warm… let me feel how full I made you.”
He rocked once, barely a movement, just a slow grind that stirred the thick load inside you without pulling out. More cum bubbled out hot and slippery coating your puffy lips, dripping slow down to where your clit throbbed against him. You whimpered high and broken — hips twitching instinctively even though you were too spent to chase anything.
Toji shushed you gently, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, your mouth again in soft, endless kisses.
“Just this. Just me inside you… keepin’ all that cum nice and warm where it belongs. My pretty girl… my perfect little thing… all hugged up and full for me.”
He wrapped both arms around you then, pulling your soft body back flush to his chest, cock still buried deep, still throbbing slow, still leaking the last drops into your stuffed, creamy pussy. Forehead kisses rained down, soft, sweet and lazy in the best way, while he held you close, letting you feel every heartbeat through his shaft, every warm pulse of cum settling deeper inside you.
“Stay just like this,” he whispered one last time, lips lingering on your forehead. “My cute, sweet girl… mine.”
And he didn’t move.
Just held you there — thick cock warming your poor, gaped, cum-stuffed pussy while you trembled and whimpered and clung to your bear, face buried in his neck, soaking in the sticky, overwhelming heat of being so perfectly, completely full of him.
Toji’s arms locked around your waist like steel bands, scarred hands splaying wide over the soft curve of your lower belly, fingers digging in just enough to bruise the plush skin as he yanked you down hard, with no warning. No slow descent. Just raw, possessive force that slammed your dripping pussy all the way onto his thick, throbbing cock in one brutal, claiming drop.
The stretch hit like lightning — your poor gaped hole, forced to swallow every last veiny inch at once, walls parting wide around the fattened girth until his heavy balls slapped wet against your clit and the fat pink crown punched right up against the deepest part of your cervix again.
You felt it everywhere — hot, overwhelming fullness stretching from your stuffed entrance all the way up into your guts, making your tummy bulge visibly under his palm where he pressed down firmly to feel himself buried inside you.
“Haah…f-fuck — there it is,” he growled low against the shell of your ear, voice wrecked and deep, breath scorching your neck. “Takin’ every thick fuckin’ inch, sweetheart. All of it. No more teasin’. Just my cock stuffed deep where it belongs.”
Your cry ripped out raw and broken — high, desperate wails muffled into the crook of his shoulder as your body jolted from the sudden depth. Your gummy walls fluttered wild around him, clenching helpless. Spasming like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to push him out or suck him deeper.
Slick and leftover cum from before gushed out around his base in thick, creamy ropes,frothing white at the stretch, dripping slow down his heavy sack in warm, sticky trails that soaked into the sheets beneath you both.
He didn’t let you adjust. Just held you there, impaled, trembling, your pussy clenching greedily around the full length of him — while one hand slid up to fist in your hair, yanking your head back gently but firm so he could see your face.
Tears streaked hot down your cheeks, lips swollen and parted in endless soft whimpers, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth again like you’d forgotten how to swallow.
“Look at you,” he says proudly, green eyes dark and blown with hunger as he stared down at where your puffy lips were stretched thin and glossy around his base — clinging so tight the rim looked almost white-knuckled. “My pretty girl takin’ everything… pussy so full she’s shakin’. Feel that? Feel how deep I am?” His cockhead kissin’ your womb and stirrin’ up all that cum he already pumped in you.
He rocked his hips once, a slow grinding roll that dragged every ridge along your fluttering walls without pulling out. The motion made a wet, filthy squelch, your stuffed pussy protesting the fullness even as it clenched harder, milking him greedy. More thick cream bubbled out — syrupy and white — coating his shaft, dripping down to where your clit throbbed helpless against the veined underside.
“Nngh…Toji —” Your voice cracked,hoarse and wrecked, nails raking down his broad back again, leaving red trails over hard muscle. “S’too much… s’too deep —”
“Shhh, I know, baby,” he murmured, scarred lips brushing your tear-streaked cheek in soft, filthy kisses. “Doin’ so good though. Takin’ this fat cock like you were made for it. Feel how your pussy’s grippin’ me? Squeezin’ like she don’t ever wanna let go. My perfect girl… my sweet girl.”
He pulled you down harder, another sharp yank that seated him impossibly deeper, crown bullying against that spongy spot inside until your back bowed, thighs trembling violently around his hips. Your clit grinding raw against his pelvis — swollen and achy — every tiny shift sending sparks shooting through your core that made your walls flutter and clench harder around him.
Toji groaned deep, the guttural sound vibrating straight through you, then wrapped both arms around your waist, crushing your soft body to his chest. One hand slid down to cup your ass, fingers spreading the plush cheeks wide so he could feel where you were stretched obscene around him, while the other pressed firm over that faint bulge in your tummy, thumb stroking slow circles over the spot where he could feel himself moving inside.
“Fuck…look at this,” he breathed, voice thick with praise and filth. “My cock makin’ a pretty little bump right here… fillin’ you up so good you can see it. Gonna keep you right here… just like this”… Cock-warmin’ you deep while he kisses your sweet mouth.
He tilted your chin up, scarred thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip, then claimed your mouth in a slow, filthy kiss. Tongue sliding deep, tasting the salt of your tears and the cherry gloss long gone, swallowing every broken whimper you gave him while his cock throbbed hot and heavy inside your stuffed pussy.
No thrusting. Just deep, possessive grinding — tiny rolls of his hips that stirred the thick load of cum already flooding your cunt, making it slosh warm and sticky against your walls.
You moaned into his mouth, soft needy sounds, as another warm trickle leaked out around his base, sliding slow down your puffy lips to where your clit pulsed against him. Your pussy clenching helpless and fluttering wild — threatening to drool more of that creamy mess if he moved even a little, but he didn’t. Just held you impaled, full, trembling, while he kissed you deeper, tongue fucking slow into your mouth in the same lazy rhythm his cock was grinding inside you.
“So fuckin’ cute,” he whispers against your lips between kisses, forehead pressing to yours, breath mingling hot and ragged. “All hugged up on my dick… pussy so full she’s shakin’. My pretty girl… my perfect little thing… takin’ everything I give her. Gonna stay just like this… keep you warm and stuffed… let you feel everything while I kiss you stupid.”
Wanting to feel you constantly, he kept pressing soft kisses to your forehead, then your temple, to your cheek and your mouth again — endless, filthy affection while his arms stayed locked around you, cock buried to the hilt, cum sloshing warm and sticky deep inside your gaped, creamy pussy.
“Mine,” he murmured one last time, lips brushing your forehead in a final, claiming kiss. “All fuckin’ mine.”
And he didn’t move.
Just held you there, thick cock warming your stuffed, trembling pussy, while you whimpered and clung and soaked in the overwhelming heat of being so completely, perfectly taken.
The room had gone quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan stirring the thick summer air, fairy lights flickering lazy gold across the rumpled sheets like dying embers. You were out cold — completely fucked-out and boneless, face half-buried in the crook of Toji’s neck, one arm slung loose over his chest, legs still tangled with his like you couldn’t bear to let go even in sleep.
Your breathing had evened out into those slow, deep little puffs that made your lips part every exhale, drool already pooling at the corner of your mouth onto his collarbone. Cute. Wrecked. His.
Toji hadn’t moved much since he’d pulled you down onto every thick inch and held you there, his cock still buried deep, warming your cum-stuffed pussy while the last pulses of his cum settled heavy and hot inside you.
Your walls kept fluttering around him in tiny, sleepy spasms — soft little squeezes that milked another lazy bead of seed from his tip even though he wasn’t thrusting anymore.
The mess between you was obscene; thick ropes of cum and your syrupy cream leaking slow out around his base, coating his heavy balls, dripping in warm, sticky trails down your inner thighs and soaking the sheets beneath your ass in a cooling puddle that smelled like sex and salt and him.
He stayed like that for a long while, his arm banded around your waist, scarred palm resting possessive over the faint swell in your lower tummy where his cock and all that cum made you bulge just enough to feel under his hand.
Every time you shifted in your sleep, tiny and little unconscious rolls of your hips, your pussy clenched tighter around him, gummy walls sucking greedy like even unconscious you didn’t want him to leave. It made his cock twitch — still half-hard, still leaking the last sluggish drops into your overflowing heat.
Eventually the ache in his thighs and the way your breathing had gone soft and even, told him you were really gone, deep in that post-orgasm haze where nothing existed but warmth and fullness and him.
Toji exhaled slowly through his nose, a low satisfied rumble in his chest, then started to move.
Careful. So fucking careful.
He slid one big hand under your thigh, lifting it just enough to ease the angle, while the other stayed splayed over your tummy, thumb stroking slow circles over that soft pudge like he was soothing you even in your sleep. Then he pulled.
Slow…
Inch by torturous inch.
The drag was filthy, your poor gaped hole clinging desperate to every veiny ridge as he withdrew, gummy walls fluttering weak protests around the retreating thickness. Slick and cum made obscene wet sounds, soft schlicks and squelches that filled the quiet room, thick white cream bubbling out around his shaft the second he started to slip free.
Strings of it stretched taut between your puffy lips and his glistening cockhead — snapping slow and wet against your inner thighs as he kept pulling.
When the fat pink crown finally popped free with a lewd, sucking pop, your hole gaped open, pink and wrecked, fluttering helpless around nothing. A thick gush of cum followed immediately — hot, sticky ropes drooling slow out of your stretched entrance, sliding down your ass crack in pearly trails, pooling warm under you on the already soaked sheets. Your clit, still swollen and flushed, twitched once at the sudden emptiness, a tiny bead of cream clinging to the tip like a pearl.
Toji stared, breath catching rough in his throat at the sight of his cum leaking from your used little pussy. So much of it. Thick and white and endless, proof of how deep he’d fucked you, how full he’d kept you. Your pussy looked ruined in the prettiest way — lips puffy and parted, hole still trying to clench shut but too stretched to close completely, just drooling his load in slow, obscene pulses.
“Fuck,” he breathed voice low, wrecked, almost reverent. Toji finally took a long inhale, eyes locked on the sight. His pretty girl’s pussy all sloppy and leaking his cum like she couldn’t help it even asleep. Fuck… it made his cock twitch soft against his thigh, already half-interested again for just looking.
He leaned down slow and carefully…not to jostle you too much, breath fanning hot over your sensitive skin and pressed the softest, filthiest kiss right to your swollen clit. Gentle. Worshipful.
Lips barely brushing the swollen bud…a warm, lingering press that made your hips twitch tiny in sleep, a soft whimper slipping from your throat. He kissed it again…slower, tongue flicking out just once to taste the mix of your cream and his cum still clinging there. Salty-sweet messy and perfect.
“My pretty girl,” he whispered against your pussy, voice so low it was more breath than sound. “Took me so deep… kept me warm all night. Look at you leakin’ my cum even when you’re sleepin’. So fuckin’ cute.”
Scarred lips brushing the sensitive bud, gentle and lingering, his tongue flicking out once to taste the mix of your cream and his cum clinging there. You whimpered in your sleep, a soft, needy little sound. Your hips twitched forward instinctively even when unconscious, thighs trembling once before settling again.
One more kiss, open-mouthed this time…lips sealing soft around your clit for a heartbeat, sucking the tiniest pull that made your thighs tremble before he let go.
Toji smiled against your pussy…slow, dangerous and so fucking tender, then kissed higher; one soft press to your puffy mound, another to the soft dip of your lower belly where the bulge was slowly fading.
“Fuck… gotta move, baby,” he rasped, voice gravel-thick with leftover lust and something softer underneath. “Your dad’s gonna be home soon. Can’t leave you lookin’ like this… all fucked-out and leakin’ me everywhere.”
He didn’t let you wallow in it.
He moved careful, almost gentle, sliding off you and scooping your limp, trembling body into his arms like you weighed nothing. Your legs dangled uselessly; your head lolled against his shoulder; your ruined pussy leaked a slow, sticky trail down his abs as he carried you to the tiny attached bathroom.
He set you on the edge of the tub softly with utter care, then ran warm water over a clean washcloth. No rough scrubbing. Just slow, careful wipes, dabbing away the cum and slick smeared across your inner thighs, between your ass cheeks, over your swollen mound. He was thorough, gentle thumbs parting your puffy lips just enough to clean the creamy mess still oozing from your gaping hole, wiping slow circles around your clit until you whimpered and twitched.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing your forehead while he worked. “Gotta get you all clean… can’t have you drippin’ all over the place when your dad walks in.”
When you were as clean as he could get you, skin still flushed and sensitive, pussy still puffy and tender, he carried you back to the bed. He stripped the worst of the soaked sheets (bundling them into a ball to deal with later), flipped the comforter over the damp spot, and tucked you in slowly, pulling the soft blanket up to your chin, smoothing it over your trembling body like you were something precious.
He knelt beside the bed for a long minute, just watching you, then leaned down and pressed a final, lingering kiss to your swollen lips. Slow. Drooly. Tongue brushing yours one last time like he was memorizing the taste.
He pulled the rumpled sheet up over your body, tucking it around your shoulders gentle and careful, like you were something precious he didn’t want to break even though he’d just spent hours fucking you… making sure your shoulders were covered, your bare feet hidden under the blanket.
He smoothed a hand over your soft tummy, feeling the faint bloat still there from how full he’d left you and then leaned down to kiss your forehead too. Long, tender press of scarred lips.
“My good girl,” he whispered against your mouth, forehead resting against yours. “Took me so fuckin’ well… let me ruin you so pretty… now sleep, yeah? I’ll handle the rest. You just stay tucked in and dream about how full I made you.”
He kissed your forehead again, soft and possessive, then stood.
You watched through heavy lids as he pulled on his sweatpants (still stained, still smelling like sex), grabbed the bundled sheets, and slipped out the door quiet as a shadow.
The room smelled like him.
Like cum and sweat and summer heat.
Your pussy still ached, emptier… now but throbbing with the memory of how thick he’d been, how deep, how much he’d filled you.
You curled tighter under the blanket, legs pressing together to keep the lingering warmth inside and drifted.
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what other sleep token songs would you say are niallruben coded 👀👀
mine (the in the next life I promise to do everything in my power to make up for this one implications are Devastating)
chokehold (well. self explanatory really.)
even in arcadia
granite!!!!!! (just the general fucked upness of their whole deal like what even was their problem!!! they were in love and grew up in working class scotland in the 90s I know. But Still)
give (teen niallruben before niall leaves for college. to me. them and all the tangled and unnameable things they cant talk about)
this is just my personal headcanon about ruben’s past abuse via his father and how it could impact his first time with niall: because his father was the first person to touch him, ruben doesn’t let anyone touch his cock, but that doesn’t impede his sex life because he controls the situation by being the dominant one.
when they’re young and doing mushrooms at the pond together, maybe the high makes a ruben a big softie and he kisses niall’s cheeks and forehead and nose and says he’ll miss him so much when he goes off to uni next month. and then he finally kisses niall cause he knows his bambi wants him so bad, and when niall is getting hard and panting out little breathless noises, ruben gives him what he’s too shy to ask for, and his hand on niall’s cock is gentle and slow and trying to be non-overwhelming as possible because he remembers the first time his father gave him a hand job and it was scary and rough and mean. each time niall whimpers or sheds a tear, he kisses niall’s cheeks or nuzzles his nose or cheek and reassures him.
“you’re doing so good, bambers.”
“that’s it, you don’t have to rush. i’ve got you, bambers. you’re all right.”
he helps niall come, softly, in his hand. kissing away niall’s overwhelmed tears and making sure niall’s all right. that niall enjoyed himself. the sweetness of it all surprises niall, and niall wants to take care of him too, and ruben tries to remain composed and unaffected during the hand job until the point he can’t anymore. and he’s whimpering around a half-stifled sob, realizing his body is reacting in a shamefully familiar way: his bladder giving out because it was one of the only ways he could sometimes get his father to stop. when he pissed in his hand. it had become second-nature; survival instinct to get through those moments he doesn’t like to think about. for the first time in his life, he’s scared of what niall might do or think of him. if he’ll laugh. if he’ll be disgusted and shove him away. if he’ll hit him like his father had.
Is there a reason you feel the need to romanticize disabilities? (Your recent retired! Posts...)
Yeah!
I think disabled people should be allowed to feel desirable, regardless of what said disability is! I write that stuff bc I think it's relevant to the characters, and I don't see a reason not to write it. Disabled people are loved all the time in real life :]
Do you have any tip for dialogues to feel in character and normal?
Best two tips I can give on dialogue are these.
1. Don't have characters talk like they're stating facts. For example, instead of, "I'm angry you forgot my birthday," have it so it goes more like this.
"How was dinner?"
"Good."
"Anyone else show up?"
"You tell me."
The real topic is underneath the words.
2. Read dialogue out loud when you write it. If it doesn't sound right saying it out loud, it likely doesn't sound right in text. For example, if it was a serious story and someone said something like this, "My demons, though quiet in your presence, are never quite silenced. Calm as they may be, they wait patiently for a reason to greet you, take an overdue breath of your willingness, and crawl back into me for control. Damaging everything in their wake.”
No one talks like that.
Hope this helps.
