Yo guys l just dropped a chapter in my NEW
DBZ fanfic l would be very happy if you guys could give it a visit and show some love. And
Stones
I was feeling generous so l decided to give you guys a little surprise 😁 💋♥️
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The hallway chatter followed them like a
swarm, every student pretending they weren't staring while very obviously staring.
By the time Toji and Enid slipped into their next class, the air felt crowded with rumor.
Toji sat beside her, close enough to make a few eyebrows twitch, but far enough that no teacher could accuse them of anything. It was the sort of careful spacing that said We're totally normal, please ignore the gravitational pull between us.
Enid's face was already pink before she even opened her textbook. She kept her eyes glued to the page as if she could hide inside the ink.
People didn't whisper quietly.
Not at Nevermore.
"So they were gone all night?"
"Maybe it's a lie."
"Then why is she walking like that?"
Enid practically tried to sink into her desk.
The class is almost dark, only the blue-white glow of the projector and the low hum of the professor's voice about Victorian death portraits.
Back row, far left corner, behind the pillar.
Enid and Toji share the wide double desk Today. From the front it looks innocent: two quiet students, shoulders brushing, heads bent over notebooks.
Under the desk it's a different story.
Toji's left arm is stretched along the back of her chair, casual, possessive. His right hand disappeared twenty minutes ago, slow as a secret.
He never hurried Because she was already his.
First it was just the backs of his knuckles resting against the bare skin just above her knee, warm through the gap where her pleated skirt doesn't quite meet her thigh-high socks.
Then a steady, harmless weight.
Enid kept writing, pink gel pen moving in perfect little loops, pretending her heartbeat wasn't already climbing.
Then the knuckles turned into fingertips.
A single, lazy stroke up the inside of her thigh, so light she could have imagined it.
She didn't.
She pressed her thighs together in warning. He waited, patient, until the muscle in her leg relaxed again, and slid higher.
Now his palm is flat on the softest part of her inner thigh, thumb tracing tiny circles that feel like electricity under skin.
Every time the professor clicks to a new slide and the room darkens further, his hand moves a fraction higher.
Inch. Pause. Inch. Pause.
Enid's breathing is shallow, careful.
She shifts in her seat, trying to close the gap, but the movement only opens her legs wider for him.
Toji's fingers brush the edge of her cotton panties (simple white ones today, little pink bow at the front) and stay there, resting, claiming territory without asking.
She glances sideways.
He's watching the screen like nothing is happening, jaw relaxed, but the corner of his mouth has the tiniest curve.
He knows exactly what he's doing.
When his fingertips finally slip beneath the elastic, it's feather-light, barely more than a whisper of contact along her slit.
She's already wet; she can feel it, warm and embarrassing and perfect.
He traces her once, twice, gathering slickness, then settles two fingers directly over her clit and stops.
Just rests them there.
A silent promise.
Enid's pen hasn't moved in three full minutes.
Her thighs tremble.
She tries to shift away; he follows, palm sliding fully between her legs now, cupping her through soaked cotton like he owns her.
Because right now, in this dark, in this room full of people who have no idea,he does.
She risks another glance.
His eyes flick down to hers, dark, steady.
He presses, just once, firm and deliberate, right where she needs it most.
Her breath catches so sharply she has to fake a cough into her sleeve.
Toji's hand never wavers, just keeps that gentle, maddening pressure while she pretends to listen to a lecture about post-mortem photography.
The slide changes. The room dims again.
Under the desk, he slides her panties aside with one smooth motion and pushes two fingers inside her in complete silence.
Enid's spine arches the tiniest fraction.
Her mouth opens, but no sound escapes.
He curls his fingers slowly, finds the spot that makes her vision blur, and starts a rhythm so subtle the desk doesn't even creak.
In, out, in, out, thumb brushing her clit on every upstroke, like he's turning pages in a book only he can read.
She comes with her forehead pressed to her forearm, shoulders shaking, biting her lip until she tastes Iron.
Toji doesn't stop until the last shudder leaves her body.
Then he withdraws just as carefully, fixes her skirt with the same hand that just ruined her, and goes back to watching the lecture like a model student.
When the lights finally come up at the end of class, he leans over, lips barely moving.
"Leave the panties in your bag...
You won't need them for the rest of the day."
Enid can only nod, flushed, boneless, and already aching for whatever comes next.
It was maddening how much that tiny, careful closeness felt like a secret only they understood.
Or at least that what she thinks.
However, unbeknownst to her a pair of Black Onix eyes were seeing the whole show.
And by the way her hands had turn white from holding the pen with force. She wasn't pleased.
Xavier noticing the tense atmosphere around Wednesday. Leaned in and ask
"what's wrong Wednesday"
Wednesday just glances at Xavier and says to Xavier her lips barely moving.
"Not any of your concern."
Xavier just raises his hand in defeat and says
"My bad,Sorry for caring Wednesday".
Wednesday just ignores him and look toward Enid whose eyes were closed and Toji wiping his hand from fluids that doesn't belong to him.
Her small lips moves voice barely coming out.
"Horny imbecile"
---
Someone jealous huh.