They were the kind that made his shabby gym shorts— y'know, the ones with holes — ride up whenever he was sprawled out on the couch. The fabric would strain over heavy muscle, a result of bulking during the winter when he'd need to be bigger to keep both you and himself warm.

You'd eye him up, fingers tracing the faint red lines the hem would leave after digging into his flesh a tad too deep. Even in the cold, Toji would wear shorts that'd shift, cling to the curve of his ass and highlight the outline of his cock.

Hell, even when he'd wear sweatpants for a change, the cotton would stretch over the broad expanse of muscle, screaming to be tugged off. It was almost obscene the amount of power Toji had in his thighs.

That's why he liked seeing them around your head.

It would start off simple enough — you on your knees doing all the work, Toji sat back, grinning down like he knew exactly what sort of effect he had on you. His legs would be spread, idle as you mouthed at his clothed crotch. You could feel him harden under your tongue, the wet spot growing steadily as a salty taste bloomed over your taste buds.

But then Toji would pull you off of him. He'd shuck his shorts off, toss them away without a second thought, then let his cock spring free. It was heavy, leaking steadily drops of pre. It rebounded, slapping the side of your face. But before you could crack a shit joke?

Toji would have his thighs clamped around your head. He'd bully his cock down your throat, riiight until you felt the coarse patch of hairs tickle against your nose.

With a heavy hand fisted in your hair, Toji fed you each fat inch until spit bubbled at the corner of your stretched out lips. It dribbled down your chin, dripped down onto his balls in messy streams you'd dread cleaning up later.

The nasty gluck gluck gluck of you being throat fucked, wet and sticky, would fill the room. Your gags were muffled each time he'd tap against the back of your throat with a hiss, a throaty chuckle leaving him whenever you glared back.

"Yeaaah— that's it. This is what a real man tastes like, feels like."

Musky was one word to describe it. It was a heady taste that left you dumb, choking around his cock as you tried swallowing around him. Toji's thighs were still around your face, bulging with effort as his hips snapped faster into your gaping mouth. His balls slapped your chin, webs of glossy precum and spit connecting you both.

Toji simply would not budge — especially when he eventually came from the heat of your mouth, the lewdness of seeing your cheek bulge with the imprint of his tip. His thighs would only squeeze harder as he pushed your head down, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum straight into your stomach.

"Tch. Consider that your breakfast done," he'd grunt lazily, thighs spreading apart and letting you free. Toji gave you enough space to pull back, your chest heaving as you gasped for air. Ruined was what you were — cum, spit, and tears smeared all over the lower half of your face. His thighs, too, coated in a filthy sheen of fluids that was already cooling and causing him discomfort.

But of course, Toji could always make you lick him clean after, since you liked his thighs that much.

Toji was disgusting.

Not because he spat when he talked, or because he fucked anything that walked. No, it was because he had this nasty obsession with your underwear—especially when you were still wearing it.

It wasn't uncommon for the pervert to cop a feel whenever you had a skirt on — his large, calloused hand sliding under the ruffled fabric to grope the plush curve of your ass. His fingers went exploring, probing around like he was on a mission.

He'd grunt, low and satisfied as he figured out what pair of panties you were wearing that day — frilly lace, granny panties, even that worn-out pair with the little holes. It didn't matter to him. Toji would find out regardless.

But what he loved most was eating you out whilst you still had them on.

"Pussy inspection," he'd grin, crooked and filthy, as he bullied your knees up to your chest, folding you in half like it was nothing.

"Is that really what you're calling it?" You'd scoff back in embarrassment, calling him on his bullshit. You knew that this position was just the easiest way for your clothed cunt to be at the mercy of Toji's mouth.

Toji didn't bother answering with words. Instead, he buried his face between your thighs, broad nose pressing hard against the damp fabric as he inhaled as hard as he could. The huff that left him was guttural, vibrating against your mound. "Fuuuck, when did you last change these?'

"Uh— yesterday?" You stammered, mortified as you looked at anything but him.

Toji grunted, pulling back just enough to shoot you a displeased look with those hungry eyes of his. "Yesterday, huh?" Tch," he scoffed, lowering his head back down to nip at your crotch once more. "Waste of flavour if you ask me. Could've let your pussy marinate them f'longer."

"What the— Toji!" You squealed, tangling your shaky fingers in his ragged mop of hair. "That's so fucking gross, don't say that."

No matter how hard you shoved, though, Toji didn't move an inch. He simply chuckled, the sound muffled as his lips attacked you with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Each lingering mwah had you shaking under him until he went back to sucking the fabric — like he could taste you through it. It was then you squirmed harder.

"D-don't do th-a-a-at—" you keened out, legs kicking out and threatening to shut as Toji flattened his tongue and dragged it up to your aching clit. But you felt one thick finger hook under your panties, tugging up hard. The fabric slid between your fat lips, outlining your folds and making your clit throb against the aggressive pull.

"Mmm, thaaat's it," Toji groaned, shaking his head against you and huffing deep like a bitch in heat. "Look at that hole winking up at me — so fuckin' cute. Gonna kiss this pussy till it's making a mess f'me."

He wasn't kidding — Toji sealed his scarred lips over the wedged fabric, sucking hard over where your hole would be with his tongue flicking out and gliding over your clothed clit.

Your protests grew weaker, hips bucking into his mouth despite your previous hesitation. "Mmf— s-so good, 'ji . . ."

"I know, I know," he laughed, continuing to devour you whole. "Toji will make you feel so, so good."

And he did — even if your panties weren't as . . . seasoned as he'd like them to be.