chloe

the walls in this apartment building are paper-thin.

you’ve known that since the day you moved in. you hear everything—the couple across the hall fighting about groceries, the upstairs neighbor’s washing machine at 3 a.m., and most infuriatingly, your next-door neighbor toji fushiguro railing some girl senseless almost every single night.

every. single. night.

the rhythmic banging of his headboard against the shared wall. the wet slap of skin. the girl’s loud, porn star moans. and toji’s low, gravelly groans that make your stomach twist whether you want them to or not.

you’ve put up with it for months. earplugs. white noise. burying your head under three pillows. nothing works. tonight is the final straw.

at 1:37 a.m. the girl next door is screaming his name like she’s auditioning for an adult film. the headboard is slamming so hard you swear the picture frame on your wall is rattling.

you snap.

you storm out of bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, march straight to his door, and bang on it with your fist.

the noises stop abruptly.

a few seconds later the door swings open.

toji stands there, shirtless, sweatpants slung dangerously low on his hips, chest still heaving. there’s a fresh hickey on his collarbone and his hair is a mess. behind him you can see the girl quickly gathering her clothes, looking embarrassed.

toji raises an eyebrow, that lazy scarred smirk already forming on his lips.

“something wrong, neighbor?”

you glare up at him, arms crossed tight over your chest.

“yes, something is wrong,” you snap. “i have heard you fucking half the city through my wall for months. every night. the headboard, the moaning, the ‘oh toji right there’ bullshit. i can’t sleep. i can’t think. i’m this close to calling the landlord and filing a noise complaint.”

toji’s smirk deepens. he leans against the doorframe, looking entirely too amused for someone who just got interrupted mid-fuck.

“that so?” he drawls, voice low and rough. “and what exactly do you want me to do about it?”

you step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“i want you to keep it down. or better yet—get a girlfriend who doesn’t sound like she’s being murdered in the best way possible every single night.”

the girl behind him lets out a nervous laugh and slips past you both, muttering a quick “sorry” before disappearing down the hall.

toji doesn’t even glance at her. his eyes stay locked on you, dark and heated.

“jealous?” he asks quietly.

your face burns. “excuse me?”

“you heard me.” he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step forward, crowding you against the opposite wall. “you’ve been listening to me fuck other girls for months. getting all worked up in that little apartment of yours. touching yourself while you pretend you’re not imagining it was you instead.”

you open your mouth to deny it, but the words die in your throat when he leans down, lips brushing your ear.

“tell me i’m wrong,” he murmurs. “tell me you haven’t been lying in bed soaked and frustrated every time you hear me come.”

you hate how right he is. you hate how your thighs press together instinctively. and most of all, you hate that your asshole of a neighbor is very attractive.

toji chuckles low when he notices.

“that’s what i thought.”

before you can snap at him again, he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside his apartment, kicking the door shut behind you.

“since you’re so tired of listening,” he says, backing you up until your thighs hit the edge of his bed, “how about you finally feel it instead?”

you should leave. you should tell him off and go back to your own apartment.

instead you grab the waistband of his sweatpants and yank him closer.

“if you make me listen to one more fake moan through that wall,” you hiss, “i swear i’ll kill you.”

toji grins—slow, dangerous, and entirely too satisfied.

“no fake moans tonight, baby. only real ones.”

he kisses you hard, hands already sliding under your shirt, palming your tits and pinching your nipples until you arch into him with a moan. he tugs your shirt off, then shoves your sleep shorts and panties down your legs in one rough motion, leaving you completely bare.

toji steps back just enough to shove his sweatpants down, freeing his cock. it’s thick and heavy, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. he strokes himself once, slow, eyes locked on your dripping pussy.

“look at you,” he growls. “already soaked just from yelling at me. been this wet every night while you listened?”

he doesn’t wait for an answer. he pushes you onto your back on the bed, spreads your legs wide, and drags the fat head of his cock through your folds. he slowly coats himself in your slick until his cock glistens.

then he pushes in.

inch by thick inch, stretching you open so wide it burns in the most delicious way. he doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours, balls pressed tight to your ass. the fullness is overwhelming. you can feel every ridge, every vein, the way his cock throbs deep inside you.

“fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “so fucking tight. gripping me like you never want to let go. this what you’ve been imagining every night through the wall?”

he stays buried deep for a long moment, grinding in slow circles, letting you feel every inch. then he pulls out almost all the way—slow enough that you feel every ridge dragging along your walls—before slamming back in hard.

the headboard immediately starts banging against the wall—the same wall you’ve been listening through for months.

“fuck—you’re so d-deep!” you whimper.

he chuckles and sets a brutal rhythm—long, deep thrusts that punch the air out of your lungs. every snap of his hips makes your tits bounce, makes the wet slap of skin on skin echo loudly in the room.

“hear that?” he growls, fisting your hair and tugging your head back so you’re looking up at him. “that’s what you’ve been missing. not those fake little moans. this. my cock ruining this tight little pussy.”

you can’t form words. only broken cries and his name as he rails you into the mattress. his pace is relentless, hips snapping forward, cock dragging along every sensitive spot inside you.

one of his hands slides between your bodies, thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, fast circles while he continues pounding into you.

“gonna come for me?” he pants, teeth grazing your neck. “gonna soak my cock like you’ve been dying to? show me how much better it feels when it’s real?”

you shatter—back arching, walls clamping down around him like a vice, fluttering wildly as pleasure crashes through you. slick gushes around his cock, soaking his balls and the sheets beneath you. you sob his name, legs shaking, nails digging into his back.

toji fucks you through it—hips never slowing, drawing out every tremor until you’re whimpering from overstimulation.

“that’s it,” he snarls. “milk me just like that. fuck—gonna fill you up. gonna pump this tight cunt full until it’s leaking down your thighs for days.”

his rhythm stutters. hips jerk erratically. he buries himself as deep as he can go, grinding against your cervix, and comes with a low, guttural groan.

hot, thick pulses flood you—endless ropes of cum painting your walls, spilling so much it overflows immediately, creamy white leaking out around his cock and dripping down to soak the sheets.

he keeps grinding slow and lazy, pushing every last drop deeper while his thumb keeps rubbing gentle circles over your oversensitive clit, drawing out tiny aftershocks that make you twitch and whimper.

when he finally stills, he stays buried inside you, breathing hard against your neck. his hand slides down between your legs, fingers catching the cum that’s leaking out and pushing it back inside you with two thick digits.

“keep it in,” he murmurs, voice rough but almost tender. “want you feeling me tomorrow when you walk around knowing exactly whose cock made you scream.”

you’re still trembling underneath him, thighs sticky, chest heaving.

toji pulls out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as more cum drips from your ruined pussy. then he collapses beside you and pulls you against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around your waist.

“next time you hear something through the wall,” he says against your hair, voice hoarse, “just come over. no more listening.”

you smile, still catching your breath, and press a lazy kiss to his scarred chest.

“deal.”

he chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your cheek.