?

T

O

J

I

F

U

S

H

I

G

U

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T

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Your ruthless hips were riding at a sloppy, sensual tempo enough to make

the

big, bad Toji Fushiguro squirm.

Pap

after

pap

enough to make him claw his calloused fingertips into your waist, enough to make him

whine '

'

Tch-

y-your hips. ' Gritting his gleaming white canines in a

snarl

to unsuccessfully hide the way you 'd made him

stutter,

Toji hiccups with every one of your bounces. 'Oh my

god,

your

hips,

doll- they make me wanna ' '

He was

struggling.

Jaw ticking, mossy eyes

narrowed.

And you can feel his heavy, stirrin ' red tip

twitch

inside of you once you lean closer to hear his quieting baritone. ' 'i-

inside.

'