aviary

he undresses you the way your kento did—slow and methodical, like he’s got all the time in the world and nowhere else he’d rather be. his fingers work each button, each clasp, with the same careful precision. when your dress pools at your feet, he steps back to look at you, his gaze traveling over your body like he’s memorizing it. your kento used to do that too. like you were something worth studying.

"you’re beautiful," higuruma says, the same words nanami always used. not a compliment. a fact. 

"you sound like him." 

"i know, baby." he reaches out, tracing your collarbone with one finger. "does it hurt?" 

"yes." 

"do you want me to stop?" 

"no."

higuruma kisses you the same way—deep, unhurried, his hand cradling the back of your head like you might break if he’s not careful. you’re on the bed now, your back against the pillows, and he’s hovering over you, his weight familiar and foreign all at once. 

when he pushes inside you, it’s slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours. you close your eyes. and for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself pretend. the weight of him, the rhythm of his hips, the way he breathes your name against your neck like it’s a prayer. 

it could be your kento. it could be. your hands find higuruma’s back, your nails digging in, and you bite your lip to keep from saying the wrong name.

he notices. of course he does. he always does.

"stay with me," he whispers, his voice rough, his thrusts never faltering. "i know where you go. but i need you here. with me." you open your eyes and he’s looking at you, his face inches from yours, his expression open and raw and so painfully understanding it makes you want to sob. 

"i’m sorry," you breathe. 

he shakes his head, his lips brushing yours. "don’t be. just—stay."

you do. you stay. you let him fuck you gently, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining above your head. he doesn’t rush, he know how to give you what you need, what you’re willing to take, and when you cum, it’s with his name on your lips—his name, not your kento's, though the ghost of it lingers in the back of your throat like something you can’t quite swallow.

after, he holds you the way he did—your back to his chest, his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. you stare at the wall, your eyes dry now, your heart a complicated tangle of grief and guilt and something that might be love, if you let it.

"i’m not him," higuruma says quietly, his voice already thick with sleep. "i know that. but i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere."

you reach up and press your lips to the mole on his cheek, the same one you used to kiss on nanami. it’s warm beneath your mouth. real and present.

"i know," you whisper against his skin. "i’m trying to remember that."

he kisses your temple, his arm tightening around you. "take your time. i’ll still be here when you do."

babygirl : @sadisticslut666

standing just outside the white chalk lines. shaggy raven hair that never looks styled, stubble he clearly forgot—or chose not—to shave that morning. his infamous scar pulling at his lips as he shouts. he wears the same black team jacket unzipped, sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. when he folds his arms or gestures sharply toward the field, you always catch his muscles shifting beneath the fabric, veins flexing making it so impossible to ignore.

it’s just a photographer’s eye for striking subjects. for sure….

he beautifully contrasts against the chaos of the game…even if he’s shouting, or breaking his clipboard…. still, you capture him mid-shout, mid-thought, jaw clenched as he’s holding the entire team together.

and then later, when the photos run, and his photos dominate the highlights more than the actual goal, well, you pretend not to notice how often your name sits beneath them in a small, neat printed font.

he doesn’t know you. you’re just another person with a camera on the sidelines. you’re just another face in a sea of professional press badges, not just one of the universities many photographers. but you know him. you know the way his brows pinch when one of his players gets injured, the way his mouth twitches when his team scores, and the way he exhales with relief when the game ends.

and you keep clicking the shutter button—

“again?!” the head editor exclaims. “you didn’t get the goal?”

“I did!” you huff, glaring at the senior grad student who basically runs the entire school newspaper.

“not the first one, the final goal! the one scored by the universities ace! sukuna—“

“god forbid i missed a shot, I basically got everything else, plus I’m not the only one taking photos on the pitch. don’t you have other photographers?” you tsk, arms crossed.

he glares at you behind his desk, clicking through the photos you’d uploaded. “you got every single expression of the damn coach,” he mutters under his breath, clicking through one of toji shouting, then another of him spitting on the grass, then another of him scratching his jaw—

you nibble on your cheek, slouching slightly in the seat.

“you hate when we use someone else’s photos,” he adds, licking his teeth as he finally gets to your photos of the actual players. and they were spectacular. the action shots were perfect, you can see the sweat dribbling down their foreheads.

“because it’s my job,” you mutter, glancing at your editor who frowns when the photos return back to the head coach.

“unbelievable,” he mumbles, exhaling slowly as he sits back in his seat. “you’re killing me.”

your heel kicks the floor. this wasn’t a first. this happens almost every time. your lens just happens to drift away from the ball and fall on the head coach.

even with fans shouting in the stands, and the other cameras flashing in the other direction. your camera can’t help but find coach toji in the chaos. he was just as important as the team. he’s acting like toji isn’t mentioned a million times in the articles! god forbid you want him getting his flowers. but your editor wasn’t very appreciative of your sympathies.

“we’re going with these three, and taking one from the other photographers for the final goal you didn’t get,” he sighs, showing you your three photos, one of the team celebrating, another of satoru gojo sprinting across the field with the ball, and of course, the final — and in your opinion the best — of head coach toji standing with his muscular arms crossed at the start of the second half.

your editor rolls his eyes turning his screen back to him. “if you bring another folder and it’s seventy percent of this damn coach, I’ll drop you and pull noah up.”

the threat has you lowering your head and muttering a hesitate okay, because at the end of the day, you were the only photographer that worked full time for the paper, and you go to every single match. the rest are focused on other stories, or working their way to become editors.

while you liked photo-journalism more. it helped, that on weekends, you got someone to admire. and your editor was not the only one that’s noticed.

“what the hell, you’ve got to be kidding me,” geto huffs, snatching the paper from gojo as he sits on the pitch. “why am I never in these damn fucking articles??” he huffs with anger

“score more goals,” gojo sticks his tongue out, just to get kicked harshly by his friend.

“I fucking scored this game,” geto snaps, grumbling even more as he flips through the paper, seeing the team celebrating.

sukuna chugs his water behind them, “my picture sucks ass,” he grumbles, spitting the water right beside their goalie making him jerk back in annoyance. “you didn’t score, but I get the shit picture?” he snaps lowly at gojo.

geto frowns, “I scored, and at least you get a picture.”

gojo chuckles, pointing at the next photo, making the entire team roll their eyes simultaneously.

“some things never change,” one teammate, yuno, mutters. his hands are on his hips as him and the rest of the team glare at the immaculate, pristine, jaw-dropping photo captured of their strict, grumpy, nicotine addicted head coach, toji.

sukuna snarls as geto looks like he’s going to fucking tear out his luscious black hair. “fucking unbelievable.”

gojo snorts even louder, snatching the paper just to wave it from his place on the ground towards toji, who’d just gotten off the phone. “coach! you’re mogging the cameras again!”

toji’s brows pinch until he notices the photo. and it’s always the same reaction from the head coach. his eyes scan over the photo, then they fall down to the same printed name underneath. “not bad,” he casually says, handing back the newspaper like it’s nothing.

but the entire team is seething, with the exception of gojo laughing his ass off.

“I finally figured out who your secret admirer is,” gojo announces, “it’s definitely the cutie with the charm on her camera and stickers on her flashlight.”

geto raises a brow “how d’ya know that?” the rest of the team immediately huddle in.

gojo clears his throat.

“for the last few games I’ve been purposely fixing my shoes or drinking water on the sidelines where they’re all huddled up. obviously I ruled out all the old farts, then I narrowed it down to the ladies. then i crossed out the outside press, but it’s hard since I can’t see all their press badges—but then i noticed,” gojo holds up the newspaper, slapping his index finger on your name beneath the photo. the entire team have basically memorized your full name by now. “she was the only one still photographing the field, BUT it was pointed at coach,” gojo points to toji.

“AND,” gojo continues, “she had this cute little charm on her camera, and this sticker. and it’s definitely your secret admirer,” gojo confidently smiles.

however, geto scratches his jaw, glancing at gojo then the newspaper. “so which one was her instagram?”

oh right, gojo rubs his neck in disappointment.

your name under a majority of the game’s photos started catching the teams attention a couple months ago. your credentials at the bottom of the article was always signed with your first and last name. however, when the team caught on to your not-so secret admiration for their coach, and neglect of the rest of team, they tried stalking you.

yet, they couldn’t find a single social media handle. not your instagram, twitter, tiktok — even your linkedIn was just the default linkedIn pfp. and the school paper website didn’t have a photo for you. either way, the team was on a mission.

“I don’t think her socials are even under her name,” gojo admits, making the team groan.

toji, silently watching the ordeal transpire, claps his hands, breaking the gossip. “enough, continue your drills unless ya wanna stay till sunset!”

once the team finally finishes practice and began packing their gear. neither one of them notices the students enjoying the nice weather on campus, or the girl that take a detours to walk past the field.

your eyes easily fall on your perfect subject. his hand cracks his neck as he stifles a yawn, kicking the soccer ball towards one of the players as they kick it up, tucking it under their arm.

it was a routine….one that you found yourself subconsciously doing on practice days. you would follow the path down from the quad, until you reach the second soccer field on campus, mainly used for practice and training.

your bag hangs off your shoulder along with your camera — the lens was downsized to your fixed 24mm and the flash wasn’t on — that’s usually how your camera is when you aren’t at events, or games.

it isn’t uncommon to watch the schools infamous soccer team practice. especially when half of them are also part of a fraternity. hell, on the other side of the field were a few girls fawning over the sweaty players.

in other words, you don’t stand out. and you’re unbothered by the hot players that glance your way as they pack their bags. well, until a certain white haired player is squinting across the field, before muttering a quiet “no way…”

geto gives his friend a look, lifting his duffle over his shoulder as sukuna wipes his face with the hem of his jersey, “what?” he grumbles.

gojo’s bag hit the grass. he locks eyes with you. then he does the worst thing imaginable. he shouts your name.

the entire team snap their necks in your direction. gojo suddenly leads the pack of six foot whatever college men across the field — their bags drop, cleats half untied, some bare foot. but all on one mission.

you.

the color immediately drains from your face. your body freezes like a deer in headlights. and when the entire team of sweaty, built, hot men crowd the waist-high fence that separate them from you. you’re ultimately stuck.

“you’re-you’re—“ slightly out of breath and pumped full of adrenaline, gojo heaves out your name. not just a first name, no—your full government name. “right!?”

you eyes lazily drag between the men, fixing the strap of your bag, your camera clinking against the side, drawing every man’s attention to the little charm gojo had just described less than an hour ago.

“yeah,” you manage to exhale, shifting your balance. “did you need something?”

“yeah,” the low voice of the hot headed team captain interrupts. he hadn’t ran with rest of the players, instead he walked up, casual and full of loud confidence. finally making his way across the field, energy drink in hand, glaring right through you as he continues. “why the fuck was my picture the only one not taken by you? it looks like shit.”

you exhale, about to answer when another one cuts in.

“why haven’t you taken one of me? the game last month was my debut and you didn’t get me going on the pitch—“

“I liked that shot you got of me when—“

“can you get my good side next time—“

“why did you—“

“can you—“

“you didn’t get my goal!” geto manages to dogpile. all the men yell complaints and compliments, overwhelming you with critiques. until you’re frowning, glaring harshly at the group of men you’d watched from a distance since your freshman year.

“I don’t work for you guys,” you finally snap. your words are cold making the men frown. “I work for the schools paper, and they choose the photos, not me.”

“and yet coach is in every single one of em?” geto bites back, and that’s when they all catch the slight surprise that crosses your face.

gojo smirks, leaning over the fence, getting close as he tilts his head. “seems like a majority of your photos have our coach. it’s like your editor can’t help but be forced to put him in.”

you feel your stomach churn, glancing between the sharp sapphire eyes. “that’s not how it works,” you mutter.

you did not expect your first interaction with the soccer team to be this. accusing you of favoritism. you can practically feel all their eyes on you, like they knew exactly who you are, even if this is your first time speaking to them.

“sure looks like it,” sukuna drawls, smirking wide when he sees you shift uncomfortably. “you like our coach or somethin?”

“of course she does,” geto’s smooth voice cuts in. “do you get all hot lookin at coach toji?”

you swallow thickly, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck to glare at the men. “you guys are disgusting,” you spit, but the men don’t falter, instead they continue gloating and poking.

“we just wanna get to know you. you’ve been takin’ our pics for months, we can’t have a chat now?” geto cuts.

they were quietly impressed with your composure. your poker face would’ve been perfect if not for the slight fidgeting you’re doing with your bag and camera strap. either way, your glare was mean, unwavering until—

“cut it out.”

the sharp voice slices through the team. then, one strong palm shoves gojo into geto, and the rest of the team topple on each other like dominos. the head coach plants himself between the fence, his team, and you.

“i forget you’re all a couple children,” toji tsks, his arms are crossed standing like a lone knight keeping a pack a wolves from a poor princess.

your heart slams against your rib cage. all your composure evaporates into thin air, struggling to catch your breath. this was the closest you’ve gotten to the head coach. you can practically smell the mixture of his cologne and natural musk. your cheeks grow hotter by the second, completely dazed and loosing all other senses, unaware that practically half the team noticed your sudden shift.

gojo elbows geto eyeing the way your pupils basically turn into bright pink hearts. even your lips look more glossy from the drool collecting in your mouth.

they’d never seen anything like it, and for their coach of all people?!

you’re caught up in gawking at the huge man, eyeing his wide shoulders, the veins straining from his compression shirt, his shirt clinging to every muscle that could break you in a blink of an eye — that you miss his short lecture towards his boys to quit scaring off a young woman, all to end with him shouting—

“ten more laps!”

the team’s eyes bulge, jaws dropping in shock, and quickly follow up with a spew of complaints.

“ya heard coach!” sukuna, the hot-headed captain, interrupts. and if the team wasn’t scared of their coach, they definitely had a reason to be with their captain. they ultimately drop their things and start their laps. however, sukuna hangs back at bit, “I didn’t even say sh—“

“you were late to practice, so you were gonna do the laps anyways,” toji cuts, earning a loud tsk from the tattooed captain. his duffle drops on the floor dramatically, eyes flicking towards yours, which — no surprise — haven’t left the coach’s profile, and with his own groan, his cleats hit the grass starting his lap.

with the entire team running laps….you’re left alone.

coach toji doesn’t move.

instead, he leans against the fence, strong arms crossing. you’re barely a foot behind him, close enough that the scent of grass and dizzy cologne reaches you when he shifts his weight. close enough that your brain short-circuits again.

then he looks over his shoulder.

it’s not rushed or sharp. it was an easy turn of his head, his dark emerald eyes flick to you with calm, assessing. and up close, he’s worse. he’s broader than he looks from the sidelines, his stubble shadowing his jaw feels unfair for a sunday morning. sunlight catches the edge of his cheekbone, and the curve of his mouth makes you stare shamelessly especially when it lifts just slightly. he’s amused by something you’re not aware of yet and you don’t even notice.

your heart stutters.

you practically forget how to stand or how to function like a grown ass adult, instead you feel like someone who’s just had their fantasy materialize directly in front of them.

heat rushes to your face, your chest tightens, and you pray, desperately, that your expression isn’t as transparent as it feels. you focus on keeping your hands still, even as your pulse flutters wildly under your skin.

and toji’s gaze lingers. he takes you in like the way someone experienced does, without staring, without shame, just a brief glance that drifts. from your fidgeting fingers, to your necklace trapped between your pretty cleavage, to the tank top that hugs your chest, to the zip up hoodie falling off your soft shoulder. to your lips, wet from the amount of times you’d lick and bit them.

and you still don’t notice it! you’re too busy trying not to melt into the grass beneath your feet. all you register is how hot the space suddenly feels, how solid he seems standing there.

from the field, a player snickers mid-lap. a majority watching the entire interaction, waiting for someone to make a move. gojo snickers as geto analyzes.

you don’t hear any of it, all you know is that the knights are real, and he’s right in front of you, and your carefully maintained composure never stood a chance. especially when his eyes meet yours and his deep, husky, voice sinks into your bones.

“been wondering who was seein’ me like that, sweetheart.”

you were gone.

s-s-s-sweetheart!?

your heart bursts, veins burning through your skin as your lips part, words falling into the void as your brain struggles to reply.

and he finds it adorable.

college girls are cute, but you, you’re a little pervert. how many photos have you taken of him? and for the past year too? he’s wondered just like his team had, who was behind all those photos. who was oogling him while the best team in the nation was playing right before their eyes?

at first, he was bothered, confused even, how big of a stalker did you have to be to take his photos for months and not introduce yourself?

but now he sees it. the way you’re struggling to find words. the way your eyes flick between his — surprised even that you’re not shying away from eye contact, but instead, struggling to just respond. like the words are right there, but your dumb brain is getting fried just by his presence. cute.

“I’ll try an’ wink next time.”

he just hammers the nail straight into your heart. your face bursts into flames as you let out a strangled hum like whine, face burning even more. unfortunately, your audience isn’t as silent. instead a few had caught your reaction and were bursting with laughter. a few whistling at their coach.

“she’s too young for ya, coach!”

“get someone y’er own age!”

“coach, the shy ones are the freakiest!”

the last one — somehow — snapped you back to reality. your glare cut through the field, immediately hitting one of the players making him burst out laughing along with the others around him. your face pulls into a scowl, heart hammering at the teasing you’re receiving from the team. who even are they? they don’t know anything about you!

shy?! you?!!! you scowl in annoyance, eyes rollin—

“ignore em, sweetheart. they’re just being dicks.”

fuck.

your face burns hot again, heart hammering against your ribs as you stutter out another nod, fingers gripping your bag as you glance at the head coach again. his green eyes were unbelievably dark, just staring at them, you felt like you were getting dizzy.

the scar on his lip twitches up, leaning an elbow on the fence, his eyes flick down to your camera. “what kinda camera is that?”

your eyes widen, looking down like you’re surprised it’s there. but it seems like he flicks a switch in your brain with that question, because now you’re fumbling to hold the delicate thing in your hands. then you hold it out for him.

a small puff of air leaves his nose in amusement. you’re cute. he turns, reaching his hand out, just for your small ones to place the expensive camera in his. the same one you’d deny your friends from even holding, afraid they’ll drop it.

b-but if coach toji holds it…if he wants to hold it…who…who are you to stop him!!!

your blush only breaks out across your body once you feel your hands brush his, eyes so bright and big even he can see the hearts explode from your irises, fuzzy pink flowers glowing around your head like a cartoon.

“looks expensive,” he finally takes his eyes away from you to momentarily examine the camera. it was nice, sony. “bought it yourself?”

you nod, smiling as you rock on your heels. “it was…” oh first words, toji’s eyes flick to you, eyeing your glossy lips as they part. “my first big purchase,” you glance at the camera then back up at toji as you point with your manicured index finger, towards the camera. “it’s nice…right?”

well fuck me.

toji chuckles internally. he really can’t read you. from rude (to the team), to shy, to snappy (to the team), to demure, to charming—all while looking up at him like he’s some shinning knight and not a coach, albeit for the best team in the nation, but still.

his lips curl up, his internal switch already flipped when he shooed the team away, and the smooth voice of his poured out like second nature. “very nice, sweetheart.”

you nod, enthusiastically.

god, you were a cutie.

“and you take such good pictures with it too, you’re a natural,” the sweet words just keep pouring from his mouth like honey, and you’re eating up every drop. your feet manage to carry you closer to the fence…closer to him.

you wet your glossy lips, leaning close to point at the camera, “it also takes video here…I initially wanted to do more videography, but I stuck with photos. but it’s a nice perk with the camera…and I can shoot in raw and jpeg, so I can edit them afterwards if I want, and uh and I have other lenses too. this one is a fixed one, so it can’t zoom, but I have two other ones that zoom, I usually use those ones for work…like during your….games.”

your rambling was one of, if not, the most attractively adorable things you could’ve done at this moment. especially when you’re oblivious to the light flush that settles in the coach’s stomach as he eyes you down.

his gaze flicks between your fingers on the camera, and your profile from his height. your hair lightly brush’s back from the wind exposing your neck, your perfume reaching his nose.

“can I try takin’ a pic?”

your face bursts hot, you feel like it’ll melt off as you gawk up at the head coach, before nodding your head frantically, a wide smile pulling at your lips. you try to clear your throat as you turn the camera on for him and take the lens cap off.

“good?” he asks.

you just nod again, biting your cheek feeling how wide you’re smiling it almost hurts, but you can’t take your eyes off the way his big hands handle your camera. your biggest crush ever is using your camera!

you contain a squeal as he stands straight. he brings the camera to his eye, before lowering it again, confused. your eyes widen momentarily before realizing he’s struggling and quickly stepping up again.

you lean over the fence. and toji purposely avoids coming down to your height. instead, he watches you hold the fence to stand on your tippy toes, the other gently holds his wrist to ask him to lower the camera just a bit from his eye so you can instruct him. fuck, the confidence to touch him when you were just a jittery mess a second ago.

“the shutter button is here. if you half press it, it’ll auto-focus for you—“ you move to the front of the camera flipping some switch, “jus’ turned it on. but just press down all the way and it’ll take the picture,” you say, mistakenly glancing up from where you are, just to realize that coach toji’s face is inches from yours. his warm breath fans against your cheek, his scar so close, his lips right there and his eyes….

you were beyond gone. the steam immediately comes off your face as your eyes turn into big giant hearts. you’re so easy to read it should be illegal.

you fall back on your heels, allowing toji to attempt again. what you weren’t expecting was for him to point the camera at you.

well considering the wider lens, I guess he wants to shoot something closer for more satisfaction. but it caught you slightly off guard, your cheeks flame once more, heart stuttering, but your face immediately lights up.

his lips curve up behind the camera, watching you give him a cute smile, angling your head to tip to the side a bit. people that automatically smile when a camera is pointed at them is definitely a cute trait.

he takes a few quick photos, before pulling the camera back. “how do I see ‘em?”

this time he lowers the camera for you, but keeps it close to his body so you’re still leaning over and up beside him, albeit with the fence between you both.

“ah the sun was behind me,” you realize now looking at the photos. toji hums like he knows what that means (he doesn’t) but he clicks the button to go to the next picture and same thing.

“let’s do it again,” he says, already pulling the camera back, but your finger quickly reaches out, easily flipping it back to view mode before moving back. toji watches you glance up at the sky, before moving yourself in front of the sun. “smile f’er me, sweetheart.”

you were smiling, but now—toji chuckles through his nose at your reaction. he knows exactly what he’s doing. he takes one photo, than another.

your smile turns more pose worthy, not so big, but just as beautiful. “you’re a natural,” he comments, with full honesty.

your cheeks flush, waving your hand in front of you, “don’t glaze me.”

toji snorts, “jus’ saying what I see, not my fault you pose like a model.”

a model?!

toji notices the way you bite your cheek and the way your hands fidget with your bag. “put the bag down, sweetheart.”

your heart skips again, the nickname electing a response from you every time. but you oblige, setting your bag on the ground. now without anything to fidget with, your hands carefully clasp behind your back, your navy hoodie completely off your shoulder, exposing the casual white tank top. his eyes glance at the swell of your tits that your bra pushes up. and the sliver of skin that peaks at the bottom.

the wind was like a perfect accessory, blowing a warm spring breeze in your direction brushing your hair again.

you do your best to pose casually, smiling at the camera, eyes low as you stare into the lens, heart beating erratically as you wait for coach toji to finish.

your breath catches momentarily. cheeks stinging and lips parting like a deer in headlights, because you notice it. just briefly, the way toji lowers the camera from his eye, gaze tracking down your figure, eyeing your thighs, then your hips, then your tits.

he’s definitely checking you out.

you glance away, flustered, unaware that toji was now clicking the library to view the photos he’d just taken.

“I think I’m a pretty good shot,” he compliments his nonexistent skills, but the light hits you so well.

you smile watching him look at the photos. eyes glued to his lazy smirk, stomach hot and heart fluttering at his short comments. he’s so handsome, you glance at the curve of his nose, the stubble on his cheek. he’s so so pretty.

your mind was getting dizzy, all because coach toji is in front of you, but it made you completely forgetful that if he keeps clicking next, it’ll eventually reach—

“oh.”

you first notice the slight raise of his brows, then the scar on his lip twitching wider, then the greens of his eyes darkening.

“did ya’ submit these too, sweetheart?”

your brows furrow for half a second, then it clicks. you lunge forward.

this can’t be happening!

you immediately cover the screen and take the camera as you hear the coach chuckle. of course you’d forgotten that you had these on your sd card.

staring back at you is a photo of toji’s fat bulge from the game. you managed to catch the moment he reached down to itch himself, grabbing it. if he saw this one he definitely saw the three before this of the closeups of his lips, his big biceps, his ass when he was fixing his shoes.

your heart is beating in your ears, skin sizzling with embarrassment as your vision starts to narrow. your eyes flick up to the coach in horror, flustered beyond speech. “it’s not—“ you struggle to explain, “you weren’t supposed to see that. I was just taking one—then I someone bumped so like, the camera went down—“

the rambling was unlike the one before, this one was much more uncoordinated, fueled by your humiliation, anxiety, and desperate attempt at defending yourself to him, so that he doesn’t think you’re some creep.

“I wore that shirt from the match two weeks ago. not this one….” his head tilts, arms folded across his beefy chest. “why do you still have ‘em?”

the older man is quite unbothered. instead, his chest grew hot, and his mind wandered off imagining this hot college girl laying in her bed, staring at pictures of his crotch with her small fingers playing with her wet little pussy. his eyes flick to your chest again.

your eyes are wide, glancing at your camera.

“I just forgot to format the card,” you quickly reply, pretty chest rising and falling. “I always forget, and I realize after when I’m exporting the photos or run out of storage—I delete them, i-i swear!”

he snorts, head tilting, “you swear?”

you nod frantically.

his emerald eyes narrow, tongue poking out to wet his lips, touching his scar. his eyes flick to the camera in your hands. you’re quite the actor…

“okay, I’ll take your word then. you wouldn’t lie to me…?” his gaze was intimidating, the darkness of his pupils felt like a black hole pulling you in. but somehow you manage to shake your head.

“no, sir.”

toji holds eye contact, before tearing it away to reach for his phone, “good girl.”

your heart beats in your throat, threatening to tear out, but you step forward, eyes big and sad. “sorry, coach.” there’s a slight waver in your voice, the man’s eyes widen briefly, chuckling under his breath as he brings a hand up to the crown of your head.

“don’t worry about it, keep taking photos of me. ya’ make me feel important,” his comment is punctuated with a flirtatious wink, shooting another arrow straight into your heart.

you were lovestruck the entire trip home. and so unbelievably grateful.

you talked your way out of such incriminating evidence. because how could coach toji know that in truth, you have an entire album of photos just like the ones he saw, that you pull out almost every night to help you cum.

you really should be an actor, you think, blushing at the way he called you good girl. the way he looked at you, the way his fingers brushed yours on the camera —ahhhh, you bury your hot face in your hands.

you were in shock for days, heart slamming against your chest and face heating up every time you thought back to the moment.

you were so in your head that you hadn’t even noticed the two athletes walking up behind you on your way out of class, crossing the quad.

it’s like that thing that happens. when you’re finally introduced to someone for the first time, then you’re suddenly seeing them everywhere. that’s how geto and gojo felt. you’d been under their noses the entire time.

with a lecture of over two hundred students, of course they’d spot you when you entered today. gojo elbowed his friend, nodding in your direction. geto’s eyes nearly popped.

“what the hell?” geto leans forward, the two men closely watch you enter the lecture hall, walking a few rows down before slipping in. geto’s eyes narrow at the camera you carefully place in your lap as you take out your ipad.

it was like the cards were being dealt out for him perfectly.

“wait, I don’t get it,” gojo huffs catching up to his friend as the lecture hall empties.

geto tsks, “what’s not to get? I’m gonna bribe her into taking photos of me next game. I’m fucking tired of being some fucking blur—“

“you’ve gotten some photos man—“

“well i want more. ones where I’m actually scoring,” geto huffs, brushing his bang back in frustration.

once the two men hit the pavement outside, they spot you. gojo is tagging along for the fun, while geto is set on a mission. one he conjured up mid-lecture the second he saw you. it was perfect. genius—

“what?” your face scrunches in mild disgust. the two men baffle at your reaction, especially at the way you’re looking up at them with narrow, and irritated eyes. your expression isn’t hard to decipher, it’s basically screaming, why tf are you talking to me?

geto licks his teeth, exhaling through his nose, “you heard me fine, sweetheart—“

“don’t call me that.”

his jaw clenches, repeating his line without the pet name. “the next two games are the semifinals and then the finals, so I’ll give you access through our manager to join press during the media window two days before the matches—“

“I already have access to that through the school paper,” you give him a look, immediately ticking him off.

“let me fucking finish will you—“

“you’re taking forever and I’m being cornered,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at the pretentious athlete. geto bites his tongue, as gojo gasps.

“you’re not being cornered!” he states, just to exchange a look with geto as they both see that they’ve steered you off the pavement and against a tree. “no—we’re just talking.”

you exhale, glancing back at geto, “whatever, just finish.”

geto licks his lips, continuing, “you’ll also get access to our locker room strategy meeting or whatever, and behind the scenes access — you only do photos, no video or interviews?”

you shake your head, heart beating just a little quicker because now you’re starting to see the perks. bts access is the one thing university teams can deny since they don’t like any outsiders butting into their strategies or taking them out of “the zone.”

that also means you can see….coach toji.

gojo and geto both notice the realization crossing your face, especially when your lips part, much more glossy than before. unbelievable.

“but,” geto snaps you back, your eyes darting up to meet his, “you better take some good fucking shots of me during the game. if I’m not in the fucking paper and insta page, then no deal.”

you gasp, “dude, you’re literally acting like I’m the one in charge of that?? it’s my editor that picks the photos to put in the articles.”

geto tsks, “yet somehow coach is in every single one.” your jaw clenches, stomach heating up. “take more photos of me so it’s inevitable. got it?”

your lip curls in annoyance, eyeing geto, just for gojo to suddenly but in—

“but also take some of me, i look so hot in them and i like reposting them on my insta,” gojo flashes you a smile.

your frown deepens, “there’s other photographers. you guys know that right?”

“yours are the only ones they choose and they look better than whoever took sukuna’s,” gojo snorts, remembering their captains complaints.

nevertheless, geto and gojo wait for you to agree, both men standing with their arms crossed, blocking the spring sun from hitting you.

then a certain captain happens to pass by, noticing his two teammates, and frat brothers.

“the fuck are you guys doing?”

the men whip their heads as sukuna steps up, bag slung over his shoulder wearing a backwards baseball cap. and with a quick explanation from his friends, sukuna tsks glancing at you and adding.

“coach always showers before or after our games.”

and it was that one bit of information that automatically has you saying: “deal.”

—

you don’t rush setting up. you check your flash, bouncing it once off the ceiling to make sure it won’t wash anyone out. your fingers move with muscle memory, standing in these rooms plenty of times for the school paper, along with other journalists from the school paper especially for media days, post-game scrums, pre-season press.

so this isn’t new territory.

the room is packed, though. there’s national outlets mingling with campus press, and clusters of journalists already talking. you hear familiar phrases float past as you move, many talking about the teams unbeaten streak, their goal differentials, their historic season.

familiar names are easily getting tossed around. captain sukuna coming up first, always, and his leadership, and the way he commands the field. gojo’s speed follows after, and his natural talent and eye for goals, then geto’s consistency, his intelligence and composure. someone mentions scouts again, plural this time, and how a few clubs have been hovering around those three all season.

you barely react because you’ve heard all of this before, and it was impressive of course, you enjoy it. however, what does get you, embarrassingly, is his name.

every time coach toji is mentioned—his tactics, his discipline, the way he rebuilt the program and incorporated new strategies —you feel heat creep up your neck. it’s a soft and traitorous blush that you’re grateful no one’s looking closely enough to notice you smiling.

you keep your eyes on your camera, pretending to fiddle with a setting you don’t actually need to adjust, reminding yourself that he’s just part of the team. a very effective, very respected part of it.

then finally, the noise dips and the conversations fade into an expectant quiet as the side door opens.

the players file in first, with sukuna at the front, expression unreadable, gojo already grinning, geto calm and observant as ever. everyone’s cameras lift, and recorders click on. and then he steps in behind them.

coach toji, in a suit.

your face breaks into a hot mess, heart skipping a beat as you eye him through your lens. it fits him too well. dark, sharp, shoulders filling it out like it was tailored perfectly. no team jacket today, no morning stumble. no, he looked clean, with polished shoes, and authority. he guides the team forward eyes sweeping the room calmly.

your flash fires once, professionalism wavering again. how can it not when your knight is walking into the room and reminding you exactly how out of reach he is.

the entire team easily spots you in the front row for the first time. your charm hangs from your camera strap, along with the little sticker on your godox flash. they all know who you are now, so their wasn’t any hiding the way they’d purposely glance at your camera lens, giving you their best shots.

many of the questions are being directed towards the coach, your eyes focus on his reaction, lens zooming close as he rolls his dress shirt over his forearms. your camera flashes and your cheeks warm. you do this every time. acting like it’s your first time seeing the coach in a suit even though he wears one every semifinals press. but you can’t help it!

journalists throw questions without breath, firing rounds until the set time is up.

“photographers only, please.”

the room clears out fast. chairs scrape back, and laptops snap shut. you step forward instinctively, already lifting your camera. the players shift back into place. sukuna straightens, his expression resetting into something stoic. gojo cracks a joke under his breath that earns him a look. geto adjusts his sleeves, calm as ever.

toji moves standing just off to the side at first, arms crossed, smooth dress shirt crinkling over his taut muscles, and unforgiving across his shoulders.

the manager gestures. “let’s get the team all together first.”

cameras flash as the team pose, all in their uniform. you move easily getting their shots, unaware of the emerald eyes watching your every move.

coach toji noticed you the minute he stepped into the room. however, he remained composed, knowing how many eyes were on him. but now, his eyes sweep over your figure.

your grey dress pants hugging that right ass, and those hips. the tight dress shirt hugged your frame, with the top buttons undone allowing some of your cleavage to be revealed along with your necklace stack. business casual, but he’s sure half the team is looking at your tits. your pretty anklet catching the light as you move in your kitten heels.

“coach with sukuna,” the manager says.

toji steps forward.

you track him without thinking, framing the shot as he places a hand lightly at sukuna’s back, guiding him a half-step to the left. your shutter clicks, noticing how easily he steps into your frame, how naturally he fills it. his height just a hair taller than the hot headed captain, at least in your eyes.

“alright, another group photo,” the manager says.

toji turns, motioning the players in with two fingers. his eyes briefly catch yours making your eyes widen. the team clusters around their coach, heads bowed slightly, listening even though there’s nothing to hear. he speaks low anyway. you circle to the side, careful, capturing the curve of his shoulder, the way his jaw tightens when he focuses.

toji’s gaze lifts again, slow and deliberate, landing on you.

why does he keep doing that?!

it’s brief. just a glance that lingers a fraction longer, his eyes flick from your face to the camera in your hands and back again, like he’s remembering the photos he saw on your camera.

you feel heat blooming under your skin, pulse kicking hard enough to throw you off guard. you steady your hands, inhaling subtly, pretending you don’t feel the way the air shifts when he turns slightly…when he ends up closer than before, just at the edge of your frame.

“okay, we’re good,” the manager calls.

the team breaks, the players disperse, but toji stays put for a beat longer, adjusting his sleeve, posture relaxed again, unreadable.

you lower your camera only when it’s over, breath leaving you in a quiet rush you didn’t realize you were holding. you don’t see him glance at you when you step back to check your photos. you also don’t notice the small, satisfied curve of his mouth.

not until you’re feeling a gentle, firm, hand on your waist, and a low voice right against your ear, “say hi next time. you’re not a stranger anymore.”

your body immediately catches on fire, eyes snapping to the man like a magnet, heart slamming against your ribs as you watch him pull back, emerald eyes meeting yours.

“right, sweetheart?”

your face stings, as you nod quickly, heat pooling deep in your stomach, feeling his thumb caress your hip over your shirt. your lips part, mind dizzy as you glance as his strong forearms, he’s towering over you, slightly leaning down to speak to you in quiet whispers.

“I’ll see c’ya tomorrow, yeah,” he gives your waist a squeeze as he greets you with a kiss to your cheek like some gentleman. then he walks away. and if you weren’t a mess before, the casual glance he shoots over his shoulder has a third arrow piercing your heart.

you couldn’t contain it anymore. you were consumed by this man. every waking thought was spent daydreaming about him— his voice, his eyes, his hands, his demeanor. it was intoxicating.

all for you to show up in the lockerroom, the next day, hours before the match. the team is either dressed in their uniforms, or still shirtless, huddling around the white board as they prep for the game.

geto was the second to notice you, after gojo. both their eyes twinkling as they walk up to you. “they gave you the pass,” geto nods to the press badge around your neck.

you nod, glancing around the lockerroom. it felt tense, the aura suspenseful as the time ticks closer to when they walk onto the pitch.

“get your vip shots, but you better get my photo,” geto hushes in your ear.

“and mine!” gojo blurts, just as a certain coach is stepping out of the steam.

and you feel it. the towel wrapped low around his waist, skin still slick with water that traces unhurried paths down his sculpted torso. his hair is darker when it’s wet, heavier, droplets slide from it and disappear along the hard lines of his shoulders.

your eyes catch his muscles moving when he walks, hard mass, that shifts beneath skin without effort. you swallow thickly, body heating up, stomach fluttering as you catch the trail of dark coarse hair leading down from his navel, and disappearing beneath the towel. your eyes follow it to the bulge you know is under there. your cheeks sting at the thought of it.

you were utterly shameless. as if the two men standing beside aren’t still talking to you. but they immediately recognize the shift in your attitude and notice the steam leaving your face. gojo stifles a laugh, as geto sighs. you’re hopeless.

your eyes follow the scars you’ve never seen before. the old pale marks catch the light, etched across his side, his pecs, and back, proof of some life before this one. then he turns just enough and your heart stutters, and your panties soak.

ink blooms along his ribs where the towel dips. the tattoos are sharp and intimate, black against his skin that’s still flushed from the heat. you’ve photographed him dozens of times, from every angle, but you’ve never seen a peak of a tattoo.

“how wet are you right now?”

the comment snaps you back, glaring straight at the crystal ocean eyes narrowed in amusement.

“don’t talk to me like that,” you huff, “I’m working.” your attitude really is night and day when it comes to anyone else and toji.

gojo blushes, “I love mean girls.”

you roll your eyes.

“what’re you two doing? get the fuck over here,” sukuna snaps.

the team huddles as the fifteen minute timer starts. and that’s what you should be photographing, but instead you glance back. toji is now pulling up his pants, wet hair still dripping down the expanse of his back. his eyes catch yours for a second, gaze flicking to your camera, taunting…

his hand subtly cups his crotch, squeezing his girth just to present you with a size, one that has your lips parting with a shaky exhale, heart pounding as you glance between his emerald eyes and the way his forearms flex when he fixes the waistband of his boxers, pulling the material down just a bit that you catch more of the thick patch of hair at his base seeing a peak of it, before he’s fixing himself again.

and once he zips his pants up, glancing at the team as they huddle for some words from the captain before coach steps in, toji walks to you. just a few feet away, your eyes widen in surprise, heart stuttering as you watch him lean down to greet you with a kiss to your cheek, again!

he’s acting like you’re familiar even though this is just your third interaction with him…but maybe you are…

“thought I told you to say hi next time,” he says against your ear, pulling away.

your face heats up, “you were….changing.”

“so?”

you gulp, eyes flicking between his, heart pounding. he’s so close. your breath catches when his scent hits your nose, sandalwood, oak and something deeper under it. his stubble is darker than yesterday, rougher along his jaw, and you realize you’ve been staring for too long when the heat creeps up your neck.

he doesn’t move away though, he stands beside you, attention forward on sukuna as he speaks. focused, and so aware of you’re attention he has to hold back a smirk. and maybe he doesn’t mind messing with you, so his hand remains at your lower back, light, almost absent, but there.

your stomach flips, attention gone. you try to listen, you do. sukuna is talking about positioning, about discipline, about not getting sloppy or something and the room is locking in around you, everyone leaning in. these would be great photos—but all you can think about is how close he is.

how his hand hasn’t moved, every small shift makes your pulse jump. you keep your eyes forward. you don’t trust yourself to look at him again.

and that gives toji the opportunity to take you in. his pupils dilate just a fraction as his gaze travels down your body. his eyes zero in on the multiple open buttons of your tight dress shirt. you’re not even hiding yourself, and the sliver of skin that peaks between your pants and shirt doesn’t help.

his hand remains over your clothes, heat settling in his stomach when you take a deeper breath and your tits push up, and his eyes shamelessly look down your shirt from his towering height. fuck, he wants a look at that pretty ass too—

“coach! you’re up!” sukuna’s voice cuts through everything, snapping toji back. your gaze whips with it, catching him off guard as you wait for his next move like anything he touches is gold.

he controls himself, giving your waist that same squeeze before his hand leaves you just like that.

you push down the feeling that hits immediately, sharp and cold. but now you can finally breathe properly when he steps away. he moves past the players without rushing — a few of the boys let their eyes roam over you— toji adjusts his sleeve ignoring the feeling bubbling up when he notices them. and then he’s at the front.

he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t need to now, but he usually gets to that point around the halfway mark. but this was the first time you’re seeing him speak in private…and when he speaks, they all listen—every single one of them.

gojo notices, gossip second nature to him. but the quick glance your way already has a grin tugging at his mouth before he nudges geto. geto follows his gaze, then sukuna does too, just briefly—and it’s obvious. painfully obvious. the way your expression softens, the way your attention doesn’t wavers. it’s written all over you.

“she’s actually really hot,” gojo comments.

though you wish you could stand there forever, the time finally comes for the team to head to the pitch, and that’s when the chaos begins.

not just on the field…but off it.

the press box is packed, bodies press against you shoulder to shoulder. the field below is relentless. everything fast, and aggressive, and loud enough that the noise bleeds through everything. you always forget how overstimulating and exhilarating semifinal matches are. but you remember the deal you made with the three stars.

your camera moves with them, tracking their plays, snapping multiple shots of them without hesitation, and then catching the moment when things go wrong...

sukuna gets taken down hard during a penalty shot—and there’s no whistle. no call.

you’re already shooting when the other team pushes, then scores, and the stadium erupts, but sukuna is on his feet, shouting. the goal should be discounted. the captain was known to be a hot head, but even you could see that the tackle he received was completely brushed off by the ref and he was right.

everyone watches as the team moves forward in defense of sukuna, but also holding him back. the other side meets them just as hard. the crowd shouts as they watch the players shove, yell, and slam into each other—and through it all you keep shooting. you catch toji too, voice cutting through the chaos as he orders his players to pull sukuna back.

the press talk amongst themselves as halftime quickly breaks up the argument. your feet quickly carry you out of the press box, towards the locker room.

“no locker room access.”

your jaw tightens immediately irritation flaring hot and sharp.

“I have a different badge,” you show the security guard your press ID. the one geto gave you.

“no press allowed, do i need to repeat myself?” the man snaps.

your irritation ticks at your side. fine. whatever. the second you step back, your mind is already running, already circling back to geto. you scoff under your breath, shaking your head as you pace along the corridor, camera swinging lightly at your side.

seriously? all that talk, all that stupid ass convincing, and for what? you were supposed to be there. that was the whole point! you roll your eyes, heat building the longer you think about it, every step feeding into this petty irritation instead of cooling it. were you overreacting —yes, but whatever—if he’s not holding up his end, then why should you?

by the time you make it back up, you’re done. done thinking about it, done entertaining it, done with their stupid deal.

the second half starts and you fall back into rhythm. camera up, focus sharp, and attention on only one thing now, the ball….

gojo and geto drift near the press box occasionally, clearly expecting something, acknowledgment, a photo, but you don’t even bat an eye. not a look, not a flicker, hell, they might as well not exist.

it’s almost satisfying. almost.

the final whistle blows and the stadium erupts, the first leg ended in a draw, preparing for next game to see who’ll continue. cameras around you go wild, capturing every second of it. the quiet annoyance of both teams, the noise in the crowd. but you don’t. you lower yours, expression flat, already turning away. it’s petty. a little unfair, but still, you walk.

“you’re not coming to the locker room?” gojo’s voice follows you, footsteps quick behind yours as you head in the opposite direction.

“why would i?” you snap, sharp, not even slowing. “am i even allowed,” there’s an obvious clip in your tone that has gojo confused.

“what’re you talking about?”

“deal’s off.”

huh?!????

gojo barely has time to react, before you’re walking away.

baffled and utterly confused, gojo makes his way back to the locker rooms. the energy is stiff, sukuna is grumbling under his breath about how embarrassing it was to end their first leg in a draw, geto is lounged beside his bag scrolling on his phone, and toji is in the corner talking to the managers. ugh, does no one care that their personal photographer isn’t taking photos of them???

they do care.

especially when the next paper comes out and the article is filled with photos taken by other people, not you!

“WHY THE FUCK DO I LOOK LIKE THAT!??” sukuna shouts, entire body fumming as they all sit outside during practice. sukuna is not the only one pissed, geto is practically seething because there isn’t even a single photo of him or gojo.

“what is this girl’s problem?! i thought you idiots made a deal with her?!” sukuna snaps, already in a foul mood, but now it’s worse.

geto licks his teeth, jaw ticking, “we did.”

“I told you guys she was pissed that she didn’t come in during halftime,” gojo throws, as if anyone was listening to him after their shitty match.

“so she throws a tantrum because she didn’t see coach’s dick during halftime?” sukuna clips.

“she looked super hot when she was all pissed though,” gojo throws, “she’d definitely go for me after she realizes how old coach is.”

“what’s wrong with you?” geto rolls his eyes, confused how gojo can talk about your looks when you screwed them over. even if he maybe also finds you attractive, it doesn’t negate your shitty attitude.

gojo throws his hands up in defensive, “I’m just calling dibs now.”

toji, just a few feet away, strides over after noticing the group no longer doing drills. “what’s the hold up!” he grunts, also in a shit mood because of the embarrassing match and then overheating what gojo had said.

“your stalker fucked us over,” geto snaps, eyes burning into the school paper. “she didn’t even get a pic of you.”

gojo’s eyes light up, “oh shit, yeah—she’s definitely over you!”

the paper then hits toji’s chest, his brows furrowing as he holds it up. his eyes glance over the sports section, and just as geto had stated, there wasn’t a single photo of him, unless you’re counting the wide shot of the field and you see him standing in the corner, but it definitely was a starch contrast from the streak you’d created.

“so?” toji tosses the paper like it’s nothing, “you guys playing for the cameras or because you want to win?!”

the men baffled, gasp and scoff. “we want to win!”

“then get off your fucking asses! I don’t have time to be doing this shit with you all!” he snaps aggressively, uncharacteristically pissed off, whether it’s because of the teams misdirected frustrations, or something else. either way, the school paper is long forgotten beside their bags and the team is splitting into practice teams.

it doesn’t matter…

it doesn’t matter that you made a deal with suguru geto and satoru gojo. and the captain pushed you to seal that deal with the information about coach — and they broke it. none of it matters! you still should’ve taken those photos, especially when you’re receiving an earful from your editor, and then sulking through the week of classes.

“what’s your problem,” your friend, shoko, cuts in, snapping you back to the campus day festival. you were once again sulking on the picnic bench, ice cream melting in the cup as you stare off.

“you’re gonna get annoyed…” you mutter, brows pinched in agony.

for most passing by, they immediately steered clear of you, not only did you carry a lethal rbf, your words of “agony” really translates to, you’ll rip someone’s head off and if looks could kill, everyone would be dead. it was quite funny, considering how you’re pretty sweet when you want to be, shoko quietly thinks. still, most would rather avoid you, thanking the heavens that you stay behind the camera so you don’t interact directly with people.

“don’t start,” shoko groans, piecing together the not so subtle mystery.

you frown, “i didn’t even say anything!” you whine even more, glaring at your ice cream. your pretty camera sits on the table beside you, collecting dust when you should be photographing this event. “I just screwed myself over,” your tongue laps at the dripping ice cream.

“agreed.”

your glare snaps to your friend, to which she brushes off with a shrug.

“you should’ve taken those photos,” she starts.

“I know…”

“then you would’ve made your editor happy,”

“I know…”

“and then you wouldn’t have to do this event.”

“I know.”

“and you’d have more weird pictures of coach toji.”

your heart drops. eyes snapping to shoko. “what?!”

shoko goes mute. suddenly realizing what she said. “nothing.”

“pictures?” you repeat, “I have weird pictures of the coach?? I don’t—why would you even say that??“ you’re not subtle at all. and shoko feels guilty at your horrible lying skills, but still…she confesses…

“you uploaded photos to your drive, when we’d study together,” she tries to hold in her laugh as heat crawls up your neck, “like more than once.”

you glance away, eyes flicking over your camera, “that’s it?”

shoko raises a brow. “yeah…what do you mean?”

you look back, “like that’s how you know, it’s not like you heard from someone else or anything?”

shoko shakes her head, “no, who else would know?”

your cheeks are burning at this point, and it was written all over your face now. the realization hit shoko in seconds. “no…” you’re silent. “does the coach know about your photos?”

you don’t want to make eye contact.

“how?!!”

even though it happened days ago, why is it now starting to feel even more embarrassing. maybe because of your cool headed friends reaction— “it was an accident.”

“how did he find out though?” shoko pushes.

you cringe, “well…” you swallow, “when I first spoke to him, remember…” shoko nods, “I let him use my camera because he was interested.” you pause, reliving the humiliation all over again. “then he kept swiping to see the pics, and just found them…” your hands slap your face, “that’s not bad!”

shoko is getting second hand embarrassment, “dude.”

“STOP IM GONNA KILL MYSELF!!” you cry out, humiliation seeping from your pores.

shoko is trying not to laugh, but it’s quite hard not too, especially when you’re groaning like that. “what was his reaction?”

“I obviously said it was an accident, and he was like whatever and seemed fine,” you explain quickly, trying to cool the situation. “It’s not bad!”

“okay okay!!” shoko laughs, trying to calm your reaction. however, shoko knows about your huge crush, what she didn’t know is about a deal her two friends made with you. heck, she didn’t even know that you interacted with them. not until those two men are standing directly behind you, sweaty and pissed. “what the hell—“

“I guess you don’t know how to keep your word,” geto spits, bag dropping aggressively on the bench beside you.

you jump, then, your eyes flick over your shoulder, immediately rolling them when you see them. you turn back to shoko.

geto snaps. “there wasn’t a single photo of us!”

“not my problem,” you scoff, attitude returning in seconds, shoko completely used to it. but she’s shocked that you know gojo and geto. “not like you guys even played well.”

gojo’s vein bulges, “we played fucking good, we didn’t lose!”

“you didn’t win,” you shrug, cold.

that’s when gojo and geto both glance up at shoko. shock crossing their expressions. “you know her?!” they both point down at you.

shoko raises a brow, “she’s my friend.”

“she’s a bitch—“ geto spits, just to receive the worst glare of his life from you, but he just rolls his eyes. “how the fuck do you know each other?”

“I just told you she’s my friend. you’re the ones that screwed her over.” shoko takes your side.

gojo gasps, “we didn’t screw her over! she screwed us over! you saw the paper this week—not a single highlight!”

you glance at shoko, ignoring the men behind you, “how do you know them?”

“we went to high school together,” shoko throws with a bored wave.

frustrated, geto straddles the bench facing you, his hand falls on top of your camera, immediately making you snap your attention to him.

“hey—“

“listen. our deal was that you get access and then we get photos, you didn’t finish your job,” he keeps a grip on your camera. shoko frowns.

“you guys didn’t give me access—i got like ten minutes before the match, then I couldn’t even go in during halftime where everyone was pissed, so what’s the point?” you snap, getting in his face.

“the point is that has nothing to do with me!” geto shouts, your eyes pierce his in two, but neither of you back down.

“it literally does though!”

“guys,” shoko and gojo attempt at intervening, but neither of you will back down. especially when geto won’t let go of your camera.

“let go,” you seethe, hand on the camera as geto flexes, grip strengthening around it.

your heart pounds against your chest, the hot spring sun beats over the four of you, sweat building on your neck while geto scoffs. “you better take those photos of us this week—“

“or what?” you glare, “are you seriously threatening me?” you were dripping with ego and confidence, except for the fact that your eyes kept darting to your camera, your poor, expensive, beautiful camera—

“is this your first time being threatened—“

“the fuck.”

the deep, intimidating voice breaks the argument in seconds. geto’s eyes widen as he feels the gravity taken away from him and being lifted off the seat. the collar of his jersey tightens around none other than toji’s brutal grip.

your eyes break into hearts, grasping your camera before it clatters back on the table, glancing up to see geto gripping his coach’s forearm.

“since when do you fucking shout at girls. you?!” toji barks, baffled. sukuna sure, gojo maybe, but geto?!

“I wasn’t fucking shouting, we were talking,” geto tsks, neck red from embarrassment.

toji shoves him back. geto slams on the bench. you hadn’t realized it but they all looked like they just finished practice, geto and gojo both still in practice uniforms and duffle bags, and coach toji wearing his usual black cargos, and that compression shirt that left nothing to the imagination.

geto scowls, rubbing his back in pain.

“you were shouting, that’s why i came over—“

“she was shouting at me!”

“so what!?”

the table is quiet. a few passerby’s glance over before quickly walking away. it isn’t a shock to know how unbelievably hot your face is right now. especially when coach toji continues his stern lecture to geto.

“you’re defending some girl that can’t keep her word, mind you,” geto mutters, flashing you a glare—his breath catches. you’re not even looking at him!! shoko stifles another laugh along with gojo, because you really were, truly, unbelievable.

how can you look at someone like that?!? like he’s some idol?! him! a musty ass college coach?!

but none of it mattered, not when toji’s attention shifts to you!!! a warm heat floods between your legs, as your lips part. then suddenly, you glance away…

“I actually did shout too…” you confess, taking accountability. “and kinda screwed them over.”

gojo, geto, and shoko, stare at you in shock.

toji sighs, like some grown ass man (which he is), his hand settles on his hip as the other scratches his hair like he’s surrounded by immature children and figuring out what the fuck to do with you all. so he decides to confess too…

“i told security not to allow any outsiders.”

your heart drops.

“including you.”

oh shit.

the three audience members immediately glance at you, and what none of them, not a single one, expected, is to suddenly see the your eyes tear up.

toji felt a sharp twist in his gut, eyes widening for a moment, before sighing. “it wasn’t personal.”

your throat feels dry, unable to look away until now. a tear hits your camera. “how is that not personal,” you whisper, bottom lip trembling.

shoko’s brows pinch in hurt, at least out of everyone, she knows how much and how long you’ve liked this man. and then sulking and now— she knows you’re absolutely shattered.

“I needed the team to focus, and you’re press,” he states like some cold fact, and that hurt even more.

your grip tightens on the camera. “but…” your not a stranger anymore…. but you can’t get the words out…your heart pounds loudly in your ears, the heat surrounding you felt suffocating, and your head was growing dizzier by the second. and the only thing spinning in your mind was how fucking embarrassing this is.

“don’t be upset.”

you manage a small nod, though another tear falls on the camera, and your body freezes. “how can i not be upset?” your small voice catches toji off guard.

you’re standing up, eyes hot with tears, walking past the esteemed coach.

“wait,” he catches your wrist, “if you have something to say don’t just run away.”

you’re fuming, your pretty chest rises and falls, the disappointment turning into built up anger, “I don’t have anything to say right now, and it’s stupid—“ your hand twists in his grip. “let go.”

he does.

you’re practically heaving, tempted to turn away, especially when the dryness in your throat gets worse. the stinging behind your eyes burns like hell as you try to rip your gaze away from the towering man. you really are stupid…

toji wets his lip, head tilting as if disinterested, but the cooling in his chest says otherwise. why does he have a weak spot for women?

“we can talk.”

his words hang in the air. a silent, open invitation for her. it’s a clear sign of his guilt for making this cute college girl cry. he was too blunt, forgetting she isn’t one of his boys.

your hand comes up to the bridge of your nose, quietly recentering yourself as this older coach watches. your shoulders rise with a deep exhale, then inhale.

pull yourself together…

you nod. cute.

you swallow the embarrassing lump in your throat, clearing your throat. “can we talk while walking…I have to work,” your usual clipped tone used for everyone except him, comes out, but he can hear the slight shakiness.

“sure.”

gojo, geto, and shoko are left in utter shock. it’s not until you and toji completely disappear into the crowd, do they slowly exchange looks.

“what…”

“the fuck,” geto finishes shoko’s sentence.

gojo stares baffled, “did we just set them up?!”

geto’s brow jumps up, “why is he always saving her like some knight?? and he was the one that screwed us all over!!”

gojo shakes his head in agreement, “nah for real, what the hell, blaming us but it’s all him.”

geto slouches back in the picnic table, rolling his eyes. “still,” he tsks, “she didn’t have to be so bitchy and not take our pictures. isn’t it her fucking job—“

“hey!”

“ow!” geto feels a slap upside the head from brunette, her eyes harsh. “what the hell!”

“don’t call girls bitches what’s wrong with you?!” shoko huffs, baffled by geto’s attitude.

gojo snickers beside the man, “he’s been like this since he met her.”

“I haven’t,” he grits, rolling his eyes at the thought of you. “she’s just a—she just gets on my nerves.”

“really because she reminds me of you,” shoko cuts him off. geto’s eyes widen, as gojo breaks into a loud laugh.

“WHAT?!”

“oh god BAHAHA she does!” gojo’s obnoxious laugh sounds like knives stabbing his ears.

shoko hums, “she has that rbf look, intimidating, very blunt, but also so cute with her friends.”

“cute?” geto frowns.

gojo smiles, “it comes out when you’re hanging out with ussss.” gojo and shoko dramatically strike a cute pose. geto tsks.

the campus was packed with students and faculty roaming to booths and small events. it was the university’s 102nd anniversary, and as memorable as it is for the students to enjoy the activities during this nice spring day, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit.

not only did your editor scream at you all week, still pissed about the shit photos you took during the match, he also threatened removal if you didn’t take good photos during this event. and now, after sulking with shoko, then procrastinating some more, you decided you’d be able to take such fanatic pictures while your idol and crush trails beside you….sure.

toji lets out another sigh, hands in his pockets as he stands to your left watching you snap some shots of laughing students beside a booth.

“it’s not a big deal,” you mutter, behind the camera. toji notices the twitch in your fingers. “I overreacted, so it’s whatever.”

toji wets his lip, “sukuna and a couple others jus’ get jumpy with cameras.”

you hum, looking at the photos you just took. “I understand.”

“I didn’t know about this deal you did with geto,” toji admits, hand instinctively coming to your waist and guiding you away from some unaware boys shouting and laughing. your cheeks flush, stepping away from his hand. toji notices. “we didn’t have a good game anyways.”

“I know, so it whatever. not a big deal,” you sigh, heat crawling up your neck. this is so embarrassing, so embarrassing! ugh you really don’t know how to keep a cool head at all when it comes to this coach. you overreacted during the match, then blamed geto for screwing you over, then almost cried because the coach locked you out on purpose, and now—

“I feel bad.”

your heart stops.

toji glances at your manicured nails holding your camera, your cute necklaces dangling on your exposed chest, cleavage glistening from the heat. but then his eyes flick up, and you’re staring at him like he’s holding the entire world.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” his voice is softer, gentler, nothing like how you’ve heard him for months, shouting, harsh. your stomach heats up, face stinging.

his hand, unexpectedly, comes up, feeling your hair between his fingers. “you work hard, and all your pictures come out so nice…” the compliment hits your heart. “but I couldn’t risk the boys getting distracted.”

your face suddenly twists, lips pursing and jutting out just a bit, your brows pinch. your dewy makeup makes you look like a fucking doll, he thinks. “I was jus’ gonna take photos in the corner, not interview them,” you reply harshly.

“you saw how they are when they talk to you,” he cuts in. your brow quirks, noticing his sharp inhale. “sweetheart, you’re hot.”

your face bursts into flames, pupils turning to literal swirls, and brain getting fried in seconds.

what?!

your reaction was priceless. toji controls his smirk, thumb brushing your adorable cheek, glancing at your glossy lips then your eyes. “I know you’re a professional, but most of those boys aren’t, y’ understand?”

you nod, cheeks sizzling, you’re surprised his thumb isn’t burning.

“so you see why I couldn’t allow you in the locker room then, and i won’t next time,” he watches you nod again. god, you’re fucking precious.

then, your tongue wets your bottom lip before speaking… “are they the only ones that would’ve been distracted?”

shit. can a grown man really pop a boner that fast?

toji’s chest heats up, glancing between your pretty eyes filled with hope. this isn’t the first time a younger girl has crushed on him, and it also isn’t the first time he’s nice to one. but what really got him, is the way you’re maintaining eye contact, almost afraid to look away, and you’re holding your ground against him.

“no,” he admits, “they’re not the only ones.”

oh. your lips curve into a smile toji hasn’t seen before, and his hand flexes in response. you look like you’re going to eat him alive right there, and he’d let you, no questions asked—

“that’s good to hear,” you pull away. you touch your heated cheek with the back of your hand, wetting your lip as you glance over the coach’s flushed face. “your cheeks are red.”

what?! his eyes bulge, catching you off guard as you break into a loud laugh.

“tch,” he looks away, his own hand rubbing down his face. it really is burning out here. but even so, his emerald eyes look through his fingers at this pretty college girl laughing at him and he doesn’t know why his chest warms at the sight.

“I can buy you ice cream. I feel bad now that you had to explain yourself when I was just being the unprofessional one,” you start, already leading him to the nearest ice cream booth.

your camera hangs over your shoulder as you point to your favorite flavor than glance up at him, he points at the cookies n cream. “oh! I love cookies n cream,” you say, reaching for your phone to pay.

ding.

your eyes widen as toji pays instead.

“wha—it was supposed to be my treat, man,” you huff, accepting the cone he gives you, hand on your lower back as he guides you away from the booth. neither of you batting an eye to the multiple people gawking at the renowned coach of their soccer team, walking around with the hot, rude, student photographer.

“as if I’d let you pay,” he snorts.

your brows pinch as you take a lick of your ice cream, the cool sensation leveling your body temperature. your eyes narrow at him as he enjoys his ice cream, grateful to have something that cools the heat building up under his skin. “so not fair,” you mutter.

“how come?”

the two of you walk across the quad, sun still beating down.

“I wanted to use it as an apology,” you say, “I said that.”

“you don’t need to apologize,” he shrugs, casual, unbothered. you huff again. this time toji smiles, scar twitching up. “you can pay next time.”

your heart skips a beat, stomach doing a stupid flip.

“….next time.”

toji catches the smile behind your cone, his eyes trailing over the ice cream coating your tongue, your pretty hand wrapped around the waffle as your bracelets clank around your wrists.

“there’s other things you need to apologize for,” he coolly says, finding a bench and dropping his weight, eyeing you as you sit close beside him. unashamed.

your brow quirks, eyes narrowing, full body facing him, “what other things?”

toji shrugs, “we can talk about it next time.”

“but I can’t just be left in suspense, that’ll give me anxiety?!”

toji snorts, loud. his big tongue is finishing the ice cream so quick he’s already eating the cone. “don’t be anxious,” he says with his mouth full.

you tsk, rolling your eyes, and you don’t notice the twinkle in the older coach’s eyes. he can definitely see geto’s point about your attitude, but if he leans over—

your eyes go wide. stomach flipping.

he takes a bold bite of your ice cream, emerald eyes shut, and thick lashes kissing his flushed cheeks. your heart feels like it’ll break from your ribs, then, he opens his eyes. he doesn’t pull away yet, instead his tongue cleans his lips, humming in low delight. the heat around you wasn’t helping your own body temperature as it skyrockets.

“taste’s sweeter than mine,” his voice his huskier than before, catching you by surprise, and the heat pools between your legs.

“i—“ you can’t even form words! your eyes won’t tear away from his lips, and your chest is moving erratically because he’s so close.

“do you want a taste of mine. I took a bite without asking yo—“

his words cut the minute your lips press against his.

shock prevents him from reacting, eyes going wide. you gave in so quick, sure he was teasing, but still. he could feel the certainty in your kiss, along with the warmth, and anxiety. after a long ten seconds you pull away—

you pant against his lips, chest rising and falling, brain scrambled. “i jus’…” your heart is beating loudly in your ears. mind trying to keep up with what your body just did. you kissed him. you kissed the coach. the one you’ve been idolizing and photographing for months—

“we can do it again.” his free hand tilts your chin up, lips hovering over yours again. his breath is warm. “kiss me.”

you do.

this time you’re a little bolder. your lips connect with his, soft again, sucking his bottom lip, skillfully. slowly. he brushes your jaw with his thumb, humming in delight just like he did with the ice cream. but the sound goes straight to your core. completely unbothered by the rowdiness of the uni day activities around you. your free hand rests on his thigh, leaning more into the kiss.

“open,” you murmur against his lips. you can feel the the shit-eating smirk that breaks his face, groaning just low enough to make the heat furiously spread under your skin.

then, his lips part.

his tongue immediately connects with yours. caressing the wet muscle. he tastes the ice cream, delving a little more. it was just so easy taking control, and your little whines are too sweet for him to stop. his jaw opens wider, taking the lead as you follow. his hand cups the side of your face, unexpectedly possessive, ignoring the alarms sounding off in his head.

you had a crush, you’re fucking adorable, and you kissed him. plus, you make these cute sounds when he shoves his tongue against yours, thumb pressing into your cheek. how could he resist?

your grip against his thigh tightens, his back is pressed fully against the bench, while you were practically leaning over him, trying to swallow him whole.

“breathe,” he mutters, lips hovering close, waiting for you to inhale. his scar quirks up, you’re so cute. his thumb brushes your cheekbone again, eyes glancing between your fluttering lashes. “if we keep kissing, I’ll have a problem.”

your face burns, eyes darting down to the tent pressing up near your hand. and unlike toji, you let your second ice cream of the day melt and fall to the ground. you were a mess. you carefully lean back in your seat, the sudden space between you allowing you to take another deep breath. being near coach toji is intoxicating. it’s not that you didn’t feel like yourself, but you definitely throw all common sense out the door when he’s in front of you.

“are you staying to see the booths and stuff?” you clear your throat, trying to ease your erratic heartbeat.

toji finds it cute. his hand once cupping your face, slides down to brush the hair off your shoulder, fingers brushing the multiple earrings that dangle from your piercings. you’re much more stylish than he is…your accessories, the cute tank top that hugs your breasts, and embroidered low rise flared jeans.

“nah, gotta drive back home so i can take my son to practice.”

toji eases, not a single thing can bother him. it was a routine, the subtle throw away line about having a son that scared off many young women, or had them wanting a one night stand with the older dilf. so his eyes flick over you, the second he finishes his sentence.

your freeze.

your blood runs cold, eyes flicking down to his ring finger.

even if you’re looking, you know he isn’t married. you know. you’ve been photographing him for months, and not a single time have you ever seen him daunt a ring on his finger.

“there’s no one waiting for him at home?” you question, wetting your lip.

toji’s fingers slide from your earrings to the dried ice cream on your chin. “nah, if I’m late he’ll go to his friends house.”

you nod, anxiety slowly dissipating. “how old is he?”

“ten.”

your eyes light up, “my nephew is just a year older, that’s when they get really fun to hang out with,” your voice is so light and sweet, toji has to shove down the weird somersault his stomach does.

“really?” toji is not convinced. “all my son does is give me attitude and bully everything i do.”

you laugh, waving your hand, “yeah they get super opinionated, but it’s funny—trust trust he’s just doing it because you’re an easy target.”

“I’m an easy target.”

you nod, waving a hand again, “your his dad, my brothers and i were the same to our parents.”

brothers? toji doesn’t comment how that peaks his interest, but he naturally asks, “how many siblings do you have?”

“three older brothers,” you nod.

damn….toji hums, that explains your attitude and how you can handle geto’s bitchy moods. what also quietly settles in his mind is how your oldest brother would probably be around his age, considering your nephew is a year older than megumi. is that why you’re easily holding a conversation this long…maybe the age gap isn’t that big then…

“they were so freakin bossy, definitely why i pushed to dorm away from them,” you huff, toji zoning back into your rambling. it was cute watching you talk mindlessly, hands waving making your bracelets clank against each other. the sweat glistened across your skin, making you look eternal, which is amusing since you’re just talking.

but still, toji is the one to lean up this time. his hand settling on your waist as a anchor and he presses a firm kiss to your warm cheek.

your glossy lips part in shock, heart stuttering again. unbothered, toji casually stands up, towering over you as his hand gently settles atop your head. “i have’ta get going, but I’ll see you next week for the match. I’ll also let em know you can come in before and after the game, but not during halftime. okay?”

you nod.

“I’ll see ya’ sweetheart.”

and with a wink, he solidifies the fourth arrow straight through your heart.

—

it was very likely that your entire week looked like sunshine and rainbows, all because you had a full on make out session with your idol on a park bench. you couldn’t bring yourself to care much about anything else—well except for your job. you had to scramble to get photos after toji left, afraid of staying on your editor’s bad side.

luckily you pulled through, and convinced him to keep you on for the semi final match this coming weekend.

which leads you to your current blissful state. watching toji speak to the team in the locker rooms. unlike last time, you grabbed different shots, smiling every time toji glanced at the camera, but frowning any time any of the other boys looked.

“surprise surprise, couldn’t stay away too long,” gojo coo’s after the team breaks to finish changing.

“don’t bother me or I won’t take photos of you,” you throw, eyes flicking up at the tall man.

gojo pouts, “but I’m just talking to you,” his words drag.

geto is scowling a few feet away, jaw tightening and relaxing, until he finally comes up to you. your attitude shifts, eyes narrowing up. geto holds eye contact, chest rising with a subtle inhale. but once he exhales, his shoulders ease, and his eyes close, the fakest smile you’ve ever seen graces his naturally attractive features.

“I’m looking forward to seeing your photos after the game.”

your lips purse, brow quirking. “yeah…”

geto leaves. shortly after, the team gets called out. gojo utters the same line geto had just said, but much more cheerfully, all while toji walks up to you. brow furrowing at the two athletes as they walk towards the exit.

“they still bothering you?”

your eyes light up the moment you see him. “s’ fine,” your pretty lips pull into an easy smile, unexpectedly warming the coach’s heart. is it that easy to smile because of him?

“I’ll tell them to fuck off again,” his voice is naturally deep, hand subconsciously roaming up to the strap of your camera.

you smile, “okay.”

god, you’re really cute. his hand cups your cheek, leaning down and easily locking lips with you.

you’re immediately caught off guard, but his hand is so firm on your cheek, you just melt. your lashes flutter shut, leaning in more. he’s so big and tall. your cheeks sting, humming against his lips, trying to fight off the butterflies in your stomach. but it’s worse when he pulls away, and your heart leaps into your throat as he brushes his rough thumb against your lip, dragging the spit across the plumpness.

“I’ll c’ya after.” he winks.

you barely feel your feet when you step back out onto the field. your camera in hand, strap tight around your neck, everything exactly where it should be, and still, your entire body is giddy.

toji….toji toji toji—

you press your lips together, trying to fight it down, but it’s useless. your mouth keeps twitching, threatening to break into a smile and you can’t help it! he kissed you. twice now! like it was nothing—

you snap a shot.

sukuna’s first goal. the team and stadium erupts, and you’re already capturing it, body moving before your thoughts can catch up. you don’t need your editor screaming at you this time, so you shift angles, crouch lower, shoot through. geto lines up for a penalty shot, and you catch that too. the strike, the follow-through, and the way the net snaps back as the ball hits. you don’t miss a second of it.

but…inevitably…your lens drifts…to him. you can’t help it!

toji’s on the sidelines, where he always is. his sleeves are pushed up again, pacing, shouting, running a hand through his hair. you catch the flex of his arm, his biceps bulge and you feel heat pooling between your legs. you catch the drag of his palm across his broad huge chest, the set of his jaw when gojo almost tackles into another player.

you shouldn’t be taking this many photos of him. you know that, but you take them anyway. your chest feels tight with every picture, cheeks still burning, and your smile impossible to get rid of.

halftime comes and goes, and you don’t even try to get into the locker room this time. instead, you linger with the rest of the press, nodding along to conversations, camera hanging loose in your hands. you don’t care. not really. not when your mind keeps replaying it—his hand on your face, the way he looked at you after, the wink.

the second half starts and you’re back in position immediately. getting more action shots of the players—ugh but you keep stealing other moments too…small unnecessary ones. his biceps when he folds his arms. the scratch of his chest. the tilt of his head as he watches the field.

your thoughts don’t stop. why did he kiss you? why did he kiss you again? what is that supposed to mean? is he going to kiss you again??

the spiral doesn’t fully come to an end until the pitch breaks out into celebration. the team is off to the finals!

managers and the rest of the team flood the pitch as the stadium breaks out. you do your best to get the best shots of the team together, and you stay after to capture them talking to journalists, and press. unaware of the coach that slips away.

you follow the team and a couple managers back to the locker room as they continue celebrating. you can’t help the smile about how happy they are, they played well.

“how was the match?” geto corners you quickly.

“good,” you nod casually, fixing your flash. “you guys played really well.”

geto’s brow quirks. that’s nice….his lips purse. “I scored.” he mutters, glancing at the multiple piercings on your ear as you tuck a hair behind it.

“yeah, it was a nice shot,” your eyes flick over your camera before glancing up to meet his eyes, testing, “you wanna see?”

his eyes narrow again, “no.”

he’s quick to ignore your eye roll, as he points over his shoulder. “coach is calling for you.”

you can’t control the way your head whips to geto, then following the direction he’s pointing at. you don’t hesitate, your legs carry you across the locker room, and into the steamed shower room.

your heart hammers against your chest, putting the lens cap back on your camera and carefully sliding it off your shoulder, afraid to step further in until you put it back in your bag.

a single curtain is closed. shower running.

“coach toji?” your voice echos.

there a beat of silence, then…

“that you, sweetheart?”

you flush. controlling the smile that breaks your face as you hum, “yeah.”

the shower is still running, steam collecting in the room. your heart is beating erratically, you barely register anything aside from the fact that coach toji is definitely one hundred percent fully nude just a few feet away. his clothes are laid on his duffle on the bench beside the door.

“sweetheart?”

you jump. “yeah?”

“you gonna come in?”

you blink. again, then once more. then— “WHAT?”

your screech bounces off the tile floors, making you shrink at how loud you are. but it was a normal reaction. he just asked you if you wanted to come in? how else would you react—

“leave your things by my bag,” he doesn’t even react, like what he’s saying is the most casual kind of flirting. the kissing was one thing, but this…

your camera is zipped back in your bag, and in seconds, you’re peeling your panties off standing completely naked in the middle of a shower room. goosebumps break out, necklace and bracelets still on as your nipples harden.

what’re you doing, seriously?

one, this is highly unprofessional (whatever). two, you haven’t even gone a date with this man. and three, w-why would he even ask you to come in?!?! does he like you?! he does—he has too—

your bare feet pad against the steamed tiles until you reach the curtains. your hands won’t stop shaking, face burning hot, and lips parting as you let out a shaky exhale. then, you slowly pull back the curtains—

“come in before someone sees you,” is what you hear just as you’re being dragged into the steaming water, curtain pulled closed behind you.

the steam wraps around your skin instantly, thick and suffocating. your pretty nipples perk up in seconds. and standing right in front of you is the 6’5 two hundred pound man. water cascading down his body in slow, steady streams. you don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until your chest tightens, and your hands hover close to his forearm.

you’re so close.

your gaze is eye level with his broad solid chest, rising and falling slow and controlled like none of this affects him. like you standing in front of him naked is something he expected. but your too dazed to care. especially when you follow the droplets sliding over his muscles, catching the shallow lines as you continue going lower, and lower. the heat pools more obviously between your legs as you see the thick patch of dark coarse hair…then you see it.

your face burns hotter, stomach flipping hard making you even dizzier.

his cock twitches under your gaze. your knees almost buckle just at the sight. it’s huge. you have to suppress a whine, lashes fluttering as you feel a strong hand cup your chin.

“say hi first,” his voice is unbelievably deep, tearing your gaze away from the monster between his legs. his dark forest green eyes sink into you.

“hi.”

shit. he bites back a groan, eyes trailing down your naked body. nipples already perky and standing all pretty for him. his hand comes up, cupping the side of your face as he leans down, lips colliding with yours.

you whine immediately. your lips move together, tongues colliding as your hands slide up his muscular chest, feeling the deep ridges of his abs as he holds the side of your face, dominating the kiss.

it was overwhelming, the shower box, his body heat, his cock touching your thigh, it was all making you dizzy in the best ways possible. he pulls away, letting you catch your breath, but he stays close, brushing his lips over yours like it’s not enough. because it isn’t.

“did anyone see you come in?” he husks, hand still cradling your face as the other brushes your naked waist, pulling you closer. your skin is so soft under his palm.

“no,” you shake your head adorably, tongue poking out to wet your lip, “I don’t think so.”

the older coach hums, his hands freely roaming your side as he nudges your nose with his. “good,” is all he adds before he resumes the heated make out.

your tongues collide and caress, jaw falling slack as you moan a little louder when he grips your ass. groaning into your lip when your arms lock around his shoulders, wet chest pressing against his. you were such a sweet tasting girl.

his hand nudges your thigh. “jump.”

you gasp when he easily picks you up, back already pressed against the tiled wall. the hot water cascades down his back as he continues kissing you. “were you mad at me?”

you pull away, breath hot as you glance at his features. he’s so handsome, your hand cups his face, pushing his drenched raven hair back. “why would I mad?”

“because I kept ya out during halftime.”

you shake your head, lips curving as you trace his wet eyebrows, chest rising and falling. “no,” you drawl, wetting your glossy lips again. “I was jus’ confused about how much you kiss me.”

his scar tugs up, biting back a smirk threatening to break free. “you kissed me first.”

“that one time.”

“you started it,” he leans close, lips brushing yours, “so you can’t blame me for getting hooked.” his eyes are lidded. “it’s really hard for me to break bad habits.”

this time you kiss me.

you’re so unbelievably hungry for this man’s affection, you can ignore all the blaring red light going off in your head. he’s so hot, he’s so big, and he’s so fucking sexy! your mind has been completely and utterly fried and you don’t care.

“fuck, you’re dripping,” toji husks, his finger collecting your juices from your pussy, groaning at how turned you are. “kissing me makes ya feel that good? your cunt always dripping like a fountain?”

“yeah-aah—“ your lips part as he shoves a finger inside. he groans against you, chuckling at the choked whines leaving your pretty lips, your nails dig crescents along his shoulder.

his lips trail down your neck, tongue flattening against the wet skin and licking until you squirm a cute whimper. his smirk is impossible to hold back. he sucks a dark bruise as another finger pushes in your fluttering hole.

“c-coach—“ you gasp, lips so wet from spit. you try to look down at his fingers pistoning inside you. every muscle on his body flexing, keeping you up like you weigh nothing, while fingering you against the little shower wall. “fu-fuck, I’m gonna—cu-uhm—“

it really is too much for your obsessed brain.

coach toji’s fingers are inside you. he’s kissing you like he’s hasn’t pleasured a woman in years. and his groans are going straight to your pussy—

“I wan’…coach—“ your whine drawls a little longer, thighs shaking, and arms locking around him, head falling to neck.

the older man chuckles close to your ear, voice deep and husky as you fall apart, in his arms. hugging him like he’s your savior. his fingers curl, slowly pumping you through your orgasm. “that was quick. my baby hasn’t cum in awhile?” he says as a matter of a fact, but you just hug him closer, lips pulling away to trail kisses up his neck. your fingers coarse through the back of his head, grasping them as you kiss the corner of his mouth.

“it’s b’cause of you, toji.” you kiss his scar, panting as he pulls his fingers out and lifts you up suddenly, hooking his arm under your knee.

“you want a good fucking princess?”

you nod frantically, cheeks dewy and stinging, as you glance over his face then his chest, then you feel his cock between your slick folds.

“it’s a big stretch,” he mutters against your lips. “you saw.”

you nod, nervous stirring at the way he’s preparing you. but you don’t break away. you doubt you physically can, when your mind is only screaming his name over and over.

“I can take it, coach,” you nod, determined.

“you’re so fucking cute,” he snorts, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he kisses your lips in quiet reassurance. “ever take a cock this big?”

you shake your head, water droplets falling from the tips of your hair. your pretty necklaces still wrapped around your neck, all wet and glistening between your perky breasts.

“it’ll hurt,” he strokes himself underneath you, thumb running over his tip multiple times before lining it with your pretty clit and teasing you. “then you’re gonna cry.” you gulp, nodding along. “then you’re gonna tell me to stop—“

“I won’t!”

he snorts. “it’s okay if you do.”

you shake your head, “I won’t I’ll be okay. okay coach? I can take it, I wan’ you inside me. please.”

the tug to his heart is immediate. how can it not be when this cute hot girl is begging him to fuck her? but he can’t even formulate this emotional string that’s tying him to you. the only physical response coming out is this fucking erection that feels like the most painful shit he’s experienced, twitching after he first spoke to you and then again when you kissed him. surely it’s disgusting….an older man like him getting that quickly turned on…

but maybe it was the way he’s only felt this tug in his chest one other time in his life, and even if it didn’t end the way he wanted, he never regretted pursuing his baby mama.

so he’s all in right now.

“deep breath, sweetheart.”

you inhale sharply, just as toji pushes his engorged tip past the tight rim of your pussy, and you suddenly clench—

“shit!—“

your eyes widen, “I don’t feel anything,” you mutter, glancing down to see his ears burning a deep shade of red.

“your cunt squeezed me too early and shoved me out,” he wets his lips, as he crashes his lips against you. “relax, baby,” he husks.

you whine against his dominating mouth, lower body relaxing as he lines up again and the moment you ease up, he snaps his hips in.

“angh!—“

your jaw slacks, and he continues kissing, groaning at the unbelievable tightness that’s squeezing every corner of his tip.

“Mmm so warm, took me in good,” he groans, rocking his hips and grabbing a handle of your ass. “you’re gonna make me feel good?”

you nod, lips connecting with his, it’s messy, teeth clashing, spit mixing.

toji’s guttural groan echos through the shower, bouncing off the tiles as he rocks his hips, going in inch by inch, until he’s finally shoving his entire length deep inside your cunt with one mean thrust.

“fhuck—“ he chokes, jaw slacking as you clamp around him again. “full?”

you nod, brain scrambled as you glance at your tummy, cheeks stinging at the obvious bulge. “keep going,” you pant, securing yourself better as he grunts, pulling out and snapping his hips back.

it was mind numbing, toji holding you up with his strong arms hooked under your knees, hands gripping each ass cheek as he ruts into you like a beast in heat. the squelch and clapping was deafening as it bounced off the walls, the steam enveloping you closer as your whines flow right into his ear.

“nghhh—gettin’ me worked up,” thrust. “when you squeeze me,” thrust. “with this tight.” thrust. “fucking.” thrust. “cunt!”

his massive cock is stretching you in ways you never could’ve imagined. his blunt tip slams into your cervix with every thrust. your thighs shake, eyes filling with unshed tears as your nails dig into his tough skin.

“m’ s-sorry—haah ah coa—ahh! it feels s’ fuhh—fuh’me ple-easee—ahh!” your pretty lips were so glossy, drool coming down as water droplets fall from your pretty breasts with each vicious slam of his hips.

he was unforgiving. and his laugh like groan didn’t help your pussy from fluttering and tightening around his chubby cock. you can feel every thick pulsing vein and ridge. it was numbing your brain to mush. your fingers curled into his hair, tugging as he gives your ass a mean, violent, spank!

“angh!” your eyes bulge, a wave of heat crashing into you.

toji laughs, gripping your ass as he quickens his pace. “admit it,” he husks, voice condensing, and eyes dark with lust. “this is what ya’ wanted.” you’re falling apart around his cock, and he’s not slowing down, even as the tears finally break, making you look even more irresistible. you’re gasping like you can’t breathe. “you always wanted the coach to fuck you. taking those dirty photos of my bulge—nghh!” thrust. “imagining how big my dick is.” thrust. “how big is it baby, tell me.” thrust!

you were fucked dumb.

your face is flushed, eyes glossed over, as you whine like a full blown slut. and even with your two orgasms in a matter of minutes. your mind was still screaming one thing: toji.

“c’mon baby, I know you’re still with me,” he snorts, ears red, and body flushed with sweat as he feels his climax edge closer. “tell me—fuck—how big is it?”

your stupid brain catches his words, and your fingers dig into his neck as you gasp and moan, the stimulation of his massive cock slamming into you was ruining you. mentally and physically. it was humiliating. but still…

“haah—fuh its’ it’s so big— i wan’ you to cum in me! please —wan’ your cum so bad, wanna feel your big fat cock cum inside my pussy toji—ahh!”

anothet sharp spank takes your breath away.

toji is at a loss.

his grunts grew louder and thrusts sloppier, until finally, he gave you one final thrust, and stilled. his ass tightens, body pressing you into the tiled walls, face buried in your neck, and teeth sinking into your shoulder. toji completely unravels in the shower, holding up a pretty college girl that whines so beautifully in his ear he thinks he’d never cum this hard again, but sure enough—

your adorable whine has him rutting shallow thrusts into your pussy, like a fucking dog. his cum pumping out as he continued stuffing you full, purposely milking out ever drop as his dark wet pubes rubbed against your puffy clit.

you both catch your breath. your lashes wet from tears, as the water from the shower head fills the silence. after a moment, toji pulls away from your neck, his lidded eyes, hypnotizing as he stares up at yours.

you don’t know why you suddenly feel shy. your cheeks burn as the emerald irises bore into your own. lips parting, and a gentle hand coming up to his cheek. you brush back the raven hair flattening against his features, smiling softly when his full face comes into view.

and he could’ve sworn you looked like an actual angel at this moment.

your eyes twinkled above, face illuminating in the dark shower, and body glistening like you’re an eternal being.

“toji…” the soft call has his heart doing something it hasn’t done in years. and that has his soft cock twitching inside you. “I’m,” you lean closer, arms wrapping around his shoulder, lips hovering near his, breasts smushed against his chest. your confidence comes back the moment you feel the man lean closer..but you continue. “I hope you don’t think…i wanted to have sex…just because i thought your dick was really big.”

toji blinks.

then he does the worst thing ever.

he laughs.

your cheeks sting, watching his head fall back in loud laughter. your hand flys to your face, embarrassed. “I’m being serious!” you yell.

toji laughs louder, body shaking as he lifts you up, his cock slipping out. he carefully sets your shaky feet down on the wet tile. the height difference returns, making you even more ticked off, your little attitude was oozing out, and his slick cock couldn’t help but twitch against his thigh at your pouting.

god, you’re fucking hot.

he brings your attention back to him. hands cupping your face, tilting your head to look up at him. your brows are pinched together, and lips pulled in a subtle scowl.

toji smirks. “don’t worry, I know you also took pictures of my face.”

you flush, rolling your eyes. “those were accidents.”

“so you just wanted pictures of my dick?”

your eyes widen, “no! i told you they were all accidents.”

toji clicks his tongue, leaning down to your level, making your tummy flip “you’re fucking cute, but let’s not lie to adults.”

“I’m an adult though,” you raise a brow, pushing back, and god if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever.

but still, toji’s easygoing smile remains on his playful lips, “it’s embarrassing. i understand,” he softens the blow as your face heats. it was humiliating when he found those pictures, “taking photos of the coach like that. but now’s the time to take some accountability.”

you lick your teeth, eyes boring into him, narrowing. but it’s toji. toji is asking. and you can’t hold back any longer…

you exhale, glancing away, even though he’s still cupping your face. “yeah, obviously I took those photos on purpose,” your eyes meet. “happy?”

water is still running down his shoulders as he keeps your face tucked carefully in his hands like you’re something precious despite the grin threatening to split across his face again.

but then toji smirks. “ecstatic.”

your eyes narrow immediately, “you’re so annoying.”

he huffs another laugh under his breath, quieter this time, thumbs brushing over your heated cheeks. standing this close to him is ridiculous now that the adrenaline’s settling. he’s huge. his broad chest still damp against yours, muscles flexing every time he shifts, towering over you while you stand there completely naked except for the necklaces you’re wearing. the little gold chains glisten under the shower head, delicate against flushed skin, and toji’s eyes flick down to them for a second before returning to your face.

that look in his eyes makes your stomach tighten all over again. he knows he’s not trying to be mocking, or casual like before. it’s fondness.

“those shots were real creative, sweetheart,” he says, voice rougher now. “nice and close too.”

you groan, immediately trying to shove his chest, but he barely moves. “oh my god, can you let it go already?”

“can’t,” he answers easily. “been thinkin’ about it for weeks.”

your face burns hotter. weeks?!

toji watches it happen in real time, watches the attitude crack just enough for embarrassment to slip through, again. and it does something terrible to him. you’re sharp with everyone else—cool, hard to impress. he’s seen it. seen the way you brush off gojo and geto without a second thought. but with him? you melt.

even now, glaring up at him with your brows pulled tight, lips still swollen from kissing, legs trembling from the multiple orgasms, trying so hard to stay irritated while your body keeps betraying you. it’s fucking adorable.

“don’t look at me like that,” you mutter weakly.

“like what?”

“like you know things.”

his grin widens instantly. “but i do know things now.”

what proceeded after was the thirty something year old coach, dropping to his knee and lifting your leg up, burying his face between your legs like a starving man. your lips part in shock.

but still, as toji works your pretty body to another orgasm, tongue shoved inside, cleaning this little pussy up, jaw slack as he gulps down his own cum. your fingers thread through his hair, tugging whenever he’d give your clit a mean rough suck, cheeks hollowing. his hand, grips your ass from behind, squeezing and slapping as he pleased, until you were falling apart.

afterwards, he cleaned you up. this time with some soap. his big hands roamed your body, every crevice and curve, hands massaging your breasts as he had your back pressed to his chest, chuckling when you’d whine. thumbs tugging playfully. hand rubbing between your legs, head tucked in your shoulder as he watches your smaller hands hold his forehead, face hot.

“toji,” you whine, embarrassed, as he teasing a finger against your hole again.

“what,” he smirks, watching your reactions, “I’m jus’ cleaning you up.”

he’s a fucking perv. but still, he teases you through the whole shower, keeping you close to his body and even letting you wash his back, admiring the muscles and ink that decorate his skin.

eventually, he steps out first, keeping you inside so he can grab an extra towel. his own wrapped around his waist.

that was the start of all of it.

three months later….

you and shoko are sitting out in the quad. table covered in assignments and forgotten laptops. all while you explained to shoko how your weekend went.

“no, we definitely got along. megumi is so cute!” you gush about the ten year old, describing how your first meeting went. toji had spoken about you enough to prepare megumi, waiting until the right time to introduce you both.

and now, you’re going to every single one of their soccer games, toji and megumi’s.

and eventually, after another hour passes by. a group of athletes comes walking down the path. covered in sweat, holding their duffles, and behind them is a very hot coach, already breaking into a smile when you jump up.

“toji!”

it was a routine. your arms thrown around his shoulders, as he lifts you up with one hand. zero regard for any pda, as he kisses you deeply. smiling as you hum, pecking him over and over.

“why do you guys look like that?” shoko grimaces, looking at gojo and geto who look far worse than the rest of the team that leave.

geto scowls, glaring at his best friend, “fucking coach overhead him again.”

shoko shakes her head, rolling her eyes, at the white haired idiot. “you need to stop—“

“it’s been three months and she’s not over that old man?!”

“he’s not even that old!” shoko defends.

but gojo scowls harder, glancing over his shoulder at you laughing and talking, hands animated, like the man in front of you was holding the world. “it’s always the mean girls.”

shoko frowns, “you’re messed up in the head.”

but even geto narrows his eyes when toji wraps a possessive arm around you, glaring up at the two players.

it was clear as day.

you’re his.

a/n: this was LOONG overdue, mb guys!!! but i hope you all enjoyed it!!! ahhhh i love coach toji sososososo much—like its a serious problem, i cant make reader behave normally when its toji, like she has to be obsessed with himmm

you stifle a laugh because that’s how it’s always like with those two. you’re even surprised toji took someone under his wing after he retired last year. and now satoru is already going on to fight for a title. it was happening so quickly, but the two rarely got along. always at the others throat if it wasn’t about fighting.

the gym crowded some more, and satoru was sparring as toji stood beside you. you were making a couple phone calls still setting up some last minute plans for the match, along with bringing in some people to interview the two men. however, satoru definitely had his priorities straight.

“after i win the title…” satoru pants, chugging some water as his friend suguru stood beside him. “I’m gonna ask out y/n.”

suguru rolls his eyes. “like you haven’t been saying that all year.”

“no, it’s different now,” satoru wipes the water from his chin. “she’ll see how good i fought and would definitely realize how big of a catch i am.”

his friend rolls his eyes. “you sound like a third grader.”

“I’m being romantic.”

“how many times do i have to tell you. I’m pretty fuckin sure she has a boyfriend.” suguru glances over at you, your legs crossed, revealing your soft thighs from the slit on the side. his cheeks stung, it was hard to resist you. you were sweet to everyone, and whenever someone needed something, you were the first to respond. being reliable, funny, and gorgeous. it would make any man buckle and beg.

“pretty sure, doesn’t mean actually,” satoru sighs, also glancing at you longingly. “and her shirt is blue.”

“so?!”

“my eyes,” satoru opens his eyes wide staring at suguru. then pointing at them dramatically. “duhh!”

“you’re a fucking idiot—“

“cmon! get back here, brat!” toji clapped his gloves together in the ringing, sounding a loud boom. satoru tossed his drink to suguru as he rushes in.

nonetheless, his determination was solidified. his motivation not only for the title, but for your acceptance was his driving spirit. the day of the weigh-ins, you did not leave his side for a second. he pulled his shirt off, and shrugged his pants handing them to you. his eyes wavering, anxious.

“it’s gonna be okay,” you smile brightly, squeezing his hand. his heart warms as he takes a deep breath. it was a big day, toji worked his ass off for months, and he only had to shred 4 more pounds…

“can i get a kiss?” he turns his cheek to your face, making you roll your eyes. he was always a shameless flirt. you hated the way your cheeks stung though, his practically naked body leaning so close to you, his heat surrounding you. but then he pulls away, and you can see the way his ears turned pink. “on second thought. I’m a little vulnerable right now. i don’t want your kiss surprising the crowd.”

you feel your lips go dry. did he just say that? your eyes glance down, and you feel another heat rush inside you as he turns away, grabbing a bottle of water.

“what was that?” toji steps next to you, and you just wave your hand.

afterwards, the crowd asked questions and toji was on him for the rest of the night, going over strategies and tactics. the following day was the big day.

toji, suguru and a medic, were in satoru’s corner, as you sat on his side. he definitely made a grand entrance as music played and his silly nickname, the honored one, was called followed by his name. he of course, did not spare a single second before he found you in his corner and gave a big wave. toji clicked his tongue as suguru palmed his forehead.

your lips curl in amusement as you wave back with the most beautiful smile. and that was all the courage he needed to start this fight.

he took a hard beating in the first two rounds. your body flinched and wince as he reacts with buckling. however, it was almost in a second, where he changes the tides. toji’s eyes sparkling as he finally sees the spark that caused him to take satoru under his wing. it was like he was untouchable. you almost felt bad for his opponent, because it was very one sided by the end — satoru finally knocking him out.

it was a celebration unlike any before. satoru was definitely on cloud nine. you guys had the entire club, as satoru made the most of his winning high. drinks were coming at him over and over and over, everyone almost forgetting how big of a light weight he is.

“i think that’s a enough from you,” you take the shot he’s about to chug again, because he’s absolutely plastered. suguru had disappeared with some woman awhile ago, and now satoru was left completely drunk off his mind. face flushed as he babbled like an idiot.

“fucking idiot,” toji grunts, dropping him on the couch. “weighs a thousand pounds.”

“there, there, no need to torture him after his win,” you giggle, patting toji’s shoulder, feeling the muscles underneath. it was a workout lifting him from the club and dragging his ass in the car then out and up into their home. considering the idiot lost his keys, the only place they could bring him was toji’s penthouse.

“you have a soft spot for him,” toji glares at the passed out fighter, his drool already seeping onto the couch.

“he’s funny.”

toji cranes his neck to you, as you run your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. “like he doesn’t flirt with you every chance he gets.”

“mmm, true. he’s shameless,” you sigh against your lovers lips. tongue sticking out to take a lick, playing with the scar. “but i missed you though.”

toji hums unconvincingly, hands on your waist, letting you struggle on your toes to reach him. “really?”

you nod, eyes heavy with lust, as you practically moan. “all your attention was on ‘toru, not me.” you suck on his bottom lip, you missed him so much. your leg moves up wrapping around his firm thighs, waiting until he finally grasps your legs, and lifts you up easily. your entire face brightening up as you cup his face. knowing how he’ll never drop you.

“happy?”

“love me, toji,” you kiss his face, his eyes scrunching as his cheeks flush. his hands move down to grasp your ass under your skirt. walking down to the bedroom. as he kneads the flesh. his touch was hot as you grind your heat against his abs. you held his complete attention as your lips clashed with one another. it was a steamy mess. teeth and, spit mixing, but it was absolutely delicious.

“aren’t you the perfect baby,” he coos seeing you unbuckle his pants so quickly, his tongue lapping at your ear as he kneels on the bed. your hand cupping his bulge, palming him over his pants as you tilt your head up. you run your tongue from his chin to his lips. his grin sends shivers down your spine.

“jus for you,” your eyes gaze up longingly, he was so pretty. his eyes meet yours as you both stare at one another. you’ve never had someone look at you so honestly before, he knew everything about you, and still loves you. it was almost like you haven’t lived before you met him.

he leans down, grabbing your leg as he drops you on your back. hands intertwining with yours.

“I’m yours,” you sigh, arching up as his hungry lips devour yours. your fingers lace through his hair as you grasp the back of his shirt, desperately pulling the fabric over his head. he helps you toss it off, your hands splay on his chest, feeling his abs as they move against your palm. his bulge sticks out in his boxers, your lips curling as you slip a finger into his waistband and tug on the material.

“so fucking needy, what’d I say about using your word—“

“i want your dick,” you don’t break eye contact for a second. “I miss it so much.”

he whistles, his own cheeks flush. “who taught ya how to talk like that?”

you sit up, pushing toji to kneel back, muscular legs spreading, stretching the material of his cargos. “you did,” your shirt is tossed to the side, leaving you in your bra and skirt as you kneel down, kissing his pecs. your tongue then circles his nipple causing his hand to reflexively hold your shoulder. you glance up at the heaving man, his cheeks flush as you bat your lashes at him, sucking his nipple into your lips making him bite down on his groan. he’d rather die than ever admit he actually like having his nipples sucked and bit by you. the shocks it sent through his body was euphoric.

his bulge only grows more annoying and painful as you leave bite marks on his nipples. drooling down his chest, until you’re face to face with his bulge. his scent invading your nose as you press your face against him, mouthing at his cock.

toji chuckles, chest heavy as he watches you arch on the bed, ass in the air. “what a dirty girl,” he coos, voice low as he moves his hand to lift your skirt up, giving your ass a firm slap. you moan, wiggling your ass as he grabs your ass cheek with his rough palm, pinching it to hear you yelp. you start sucking him through his boxers, your hand coming up to palm his big balls. “someone’s fuckin eager,” he grins, sliding your lace thong to the side, already feeling your juices coat his fingers.

you whine, pushing back into him, as you press your face further into his crotch. you loved kissing him through his boxers, his scent embedded in after the long day making you dizzy. it was so natural and manly, you rubbed your face even more.

“like that puppy, like the way i smell?”

you moan even more, clenching around his fingers as you pull his waistband down, eyes drunk as your tongue follows his happy trail to his base. the dark hairs tickle your nose as you drool on his pubes, his hips jerking as he curls his fingers inside you.

“fhuck, ya look so good rubbing your face on me,” his jaw clenched. you always get so excited after not having him for awhile. his fingers starts pumping in and out, pushing you forward as you grasp his cock, lifting it to your lips as you kiss his oozing tip. your tongue lays flat, rubbing his head as you see stars. “quit teasing.” he slaps your ass hard. you whine, sucking his cock in.

you choke as you suck his tip desperately, until he starts rocking his hips. your hand running down grasping his balls as the tears build up in your waterline.

“that’s it—ngh choke on my dick, puppy,” he pulls his fingers out as he pinches your clit, your eyes crossing as you shake. your slick covering your inner thighs as you choke, pushing his thighs away, as you spit on his cock, coughing. “come on, pretty girl.” he rocks his cock against your face as you catch your breath.

you’re panting desperately, pulling his pants further down along with his drenched boxers. his cock was drooling pre-cum on your face as you kiss the veins on his cock.

your body suddenly jerks forward. eyes rolling back as you feel your pussy sting.

“what’d I say about teasing?” he slaps your pussy again, his palm was harsh, as your legs shook.

you whine, pressing your face to the side of his cock, tongue lapping like a puppy. “sorry I couldn’t breathe,” your sarcasm had his eyes glint.

he sits up at your whining, leaning back so he can press a hand to your head, lifting you back so you can look at him. you were an open book, eyes sparkling as he pets your head. “open up.”

you open your mouth as he grabs your chin, leaning down, and spitting inside. your cheeks flush as you hum in delight, using his spit to let it fall on his cock, and suck him harsher. his head falls back, grunting as he lets you go at your own pace. he had one hand behind him, rocking his hips to meet your mouth slowly as the other brushed your hair. fuck you always made a mess, drooling and spitting all over his cock. your nails scratching up and down his fit thighs as they flexed when it dug deeper than usual. “hngh cmon fuck, good fucking girl.” toji grunts, abs clenching as he holds your head down for a little second longer, bucking his hips up as he cums.

you almost cum too as you feel his hot white seed spray down your throat. you choke, pulling away. some cum slips from your mouth as toji continues spraying on your face.

he was panting, face red and sweaty as he looks up at the ceiling catching his breath. he feels your hand playing with his pubes again so he glances down grabbing your face. he looked spaced for a second as he sees the mess all over. your spit and his cum. “always a messy eater.”

you pout, sitting up as he grabs the shirt you tossed off and wipes your face. you hum, tongue sticking out when he tosses it away.

his teeth peak as he grabs your tongue with his fingers, chuckling as you drool down your chin. “still want more.” you nod. “use your words.”

“ah cathnt,” your cheeks sting as he laughs at your little humiliation. your brows pinch as you wait for him to stop laughing, he was always so annoying. especially when he suddenly starts littering your face with kisses, rolling onto his back.

“get to work pup,” he kneads your ass as you lean forward, lips kissing his chin. his skin burns as you move your fingers down to his hand, turning it around to rest on your back. with a quick clip, he removes your bra, winking as you smile brightly.

“i didn’t know you were so good with your hands.”

“ s’ that right?” he licks his teeth.

“mhm,” you pull his hand to your face, your cheek nuzzling against his palm as you start rolling your hips down against his slippery cock. his abs flex, running this thumb along your cheek as you pant softly, his other hand grasping your breast as he squeezes it in his palm. your eyes close as you place a palm down on his chest, humping his cock as it glides through your folds.

“you love fucking teasin, don’ cha?” he grits. you smile, standing up as you kick your skirt and panties off. his hands run up your thighs as he leans his chin forward. fixated on your wet pussy as he takes as lick. “so sweet.”

he moans, hand wrapping around your thigh as he delves even further, tongue slipping through your folds as he sucks your clit, rubbing his face as you grasp his hair. his eyes close, occasionally opening them to stare up at you as you lean back, grinding down harder on his mouth. fuck you loved his tongue so much… you barely had sex before you met toji. in all honesty, you don’t count your actual virginity loss to be with that boy from freshmen year of college, because you really only felt something with toji.

“more,” you pant, tugging his hair.

toji doesn’t say anything, only eating you out more, his tongue was making loud noises as it sucked and prodded only for your eyes to shoot open as you feel yourself losing balance quickly.

“wait—toji!—“

“woah, sweetheart.”

toji laughs, holding you close.

you were seconds from hitting the ground after losing your footing, but toji quickly held your bicep pulling you down to him. your face was pale as you stare up at him. “don’t go cracking your skull when I’m sucking your pussy,” he laughs as he rubs your forehead as you heave beneath him.

“that was scary.”

your smile is wavering on fear and humor. looking up at him with wide eyes. still trembling from the near death experience. “i don’t think I’m wet anymore.”

the cocky ass man doesn’t even respond, instead he slips a hand between your legs, running a finger up your wet slit making your body jerk in surprise. he collects your juices on his fingers, bringing it up to your face. “don’t worry, you’re fine.”

you flush as he licks his finger in delight. you feel your pulse between your legs as you stare up at him. you’ll never fully understand why your body gets so jittery when he looks at you. his deep green eyes so intense as his fingers travel to your lips smearing his salvia across, eyes dilating as your tongue lulls out. “ah, there’s my good puppy.” he chuckles. “ya missed me that much, you can’t keep y’r tongue in your mouth?”

you’re big doe eyes really do so much to him, his heavy hanging dick drools onto the mattress, as he slides his thighs apart, pressing himself down like a man in heat as his tongue falls out. your pussy pulses squeezing around nothing as you wait for his spit to fall into your mouth. your body shakes stupid, hips bucking up in delight.

“ya like that?” his thumb pushes into your mouth, eyes watching every single quirk or blink as you react to him.

you hum around his thumb, sucking the rough digit like a baby, making his dick twitch. he bends down to bite your ear.

“tell me.”

“I like it,” you squeak feeling him pinch your nipple hard.

his devilish grin only serves to make you even more wet. “then why’re you shaking your hips like a greedy slut? s’ this not enough?”

you pout, “m’ n-not.” his cheeks flood red at how adorable you look with his thumb in your mouth pouting. “mmgh fhuck me…toji.”

your choked pleas was music to his ears, even more so when he swung your legs over his shoulders, neither of you hearing the thud in the living room.

“ah fuck,” satoru grumbles, rubbing his head from his fallen spot on the floor. where the fuck am I? he feels slightly nauseous as he groans into the cushion. he whines out your name, even more defeated when he doesn’t receive a response.

she probably went home, he slumps in defeat. of course that old man would send his pretty manager home. he probably didn’t even drive her either. he drags his heavy body up, grabbing his head from the slight headache. his eyes briefly scan the room, it was a nice place, he’s only been here once though, so where was the bathroom again?

his hand felt around for his phone as he stepped out of the bathroom. did he leave it at the club, car, on the couch—

“hahhh ngh to-toojii—“

the fighter froze in his tracks.

a sudden heat crawled up his ears, was that what he thinks it was—

“fhuck, aren’t you a good fucking girl, ya like it when I’m rough?”

satoru felt his body break out into a heated mess as he followed the unbelievably lewd claps and moans. the door was not even fully closed as he turned his back and took a peak inside. his hand fell down to his pants, cheeks bright red when he noticed his mentor pounding the living hell out of a poor girl that was blocked from his view.

it was talked about occasionally that toji had a long list of women he’s been with. his charms were definitely different than his own, but his mentor definitely had a magnet that attracted the most beautiful women. many even looking over poor satoru to go for the older man. it was understandable, toji was in the prime of his career just a couple years ago, and he definitely still had the looks and physique even after retiring. but now there was that slight refined wine to him compared to the younger boy. and yet, satoru never wanted to think about how toji could pull more women then him until now—

“awe, pup you’re making a mess. is this little pussy feeling too good, sucking my dick in so good shit—“ the low rumble of his voice, a side satoru has never seen before sent a bright red smoke appearing around him. his eyes couldn’t leave the scene, especially when the man had his lover pressed down—

his breath hitched.

“toji!”

your voice.

his sweet innocent girl’s voice was getting pounded by his mentor and crying out the most lewd things.

“cmon, ya wanted to be on top, what’s wrong?” toji had flipped you both. you were shaking, you’d just came, and yet you couldn’t stop the way your pussy was clenching around his fat cock still intruding your insides. you glare down at toji. his chest flushed and sweaty, hair pushed back as he slapped your ass.

you were panting, catching your breath until you fell forward after toji’s sharp thrust up. you whine into his neck.

“give me a sec will you,” you huff, sitting up, as you press a hand to his sternum, glaring down at him. but he couldn’t stifle his laugh because you looked anything but intimidating, especially with the way you’re squirming on his lap. “shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” he laughs even louder making your face flame hot. you fix your hair on top of him, moving it off your face as toji smiled up at you. you were breathtaking, your skin glowing as his hands squeezed your thighs then your waist. finally your hand fell to his chest again, lifting your hips up, almost making him slip out until you slapped your hips down knocking the wind out of him. “shit!” toji tensed up the second he felt you grab his balls from behind, your chest heaving but a shit eating grin on your face.

“how was that?”

“fuck puppy,” toji groans so loud your eyes light up as you start riding his dick, still overstimulated. “make me cum.”

his choked request made your entire body act up, riding his fat cock like there’s no tomorrow. he stretched you so well as you oozed down his shaft, a white sticky ring decorating his base as his cum dripped down his balls. “what happened to all that training, baby? I know you can go faster, stop holding back.” he grunts, eyes dark as your tongue peaks out as you gasp stilling on his chest for a moment. “did ya jus’ cum?”

you whine, covering your face with the back of your hand, as the other is splayed on his abs, shoulders raised as you shake from the aftershocks.

toji tsks, “fuckin’ brat—“

satoru is on the floor, his hand desperately shoved into his pants as he strokes his messy cock at the sight of his crush and mentor fucking like it’s no one’s business. it was wrong. but he couldn’t take his eyes off you, especially when you gave out a loud cry. who has loud unending sex when there’s a guest in their home? it was rude. so it’s not his fault that he’s watching. toji had your arms bound behind you with one hand and the other grabbed your waist as he thrusted up, mean and fast.

your head goes fuzzy as his pace is bordering on cruel. “i-i c-can’t!”

“yes you can, fuck making my dick melt,” his laughs are choked between moans as you gasp and cry, burying your face into his neck. the squelching of your pussy had satoru spinning, he can see where you’re both connected, the cum sticking and creating strings everytime toji’s thighs meet your ass. you looked so pretty. he was seething was envy. his fist tightening around his cock, his pants low on his hips as he tried to follow the pace toji was going. his cheeks flood red when he suddenly feels the knot snap inside him. no way that old man can last longer than me! his cheeks flush even darker.

toji’s stamina was scary. you were babbling incoherently as he shoved himself even deeper, grunting as he continued fucking you.

toji’s groan rumbles against you as you’re pressed against him, whining directly into his ear. “fill me up, toji..” you pant. “want y’r cum so badly please pleeeease…”

his jaw locks, hips stuttering up as he falls apart. “fhuckk ngh,” his legs shake as he pulls out and goes back in with a final thrust, burying himself deep inside you until he’s groaning out— his warm thick cum spilling inside you in heavy waves. you lick his ear, whining so adorably that he grabs your face. “I came quicker than usual.” he tsks, making you giggle. his eyes flutter shut as you tighten around him and roll your hips milking him for more.

“i like it when ya cum fast,” you mutter, “it feels so warm inside. your cum is making me so full.” you bite his bottom lip making him chortle, but it easily turns into another deep groan as he holds your hips down. your tongue plays with his scar as his lips crash into yours so you can swallow his throaty moans that make you squirm with heat.

as for satoru he was in absolute shock. not only was he embarrassed that to his mentor that was not lasting long. if he were in his position he’d definitely cum if you just touched his dick. which at this moment was soaked in his sticky cum—

“I’ll be right back, pup.”

satoru had been too busy feeling his cum fill his boxers that he hadn’t registered you asking toji to get you some water until the door swung open and satoru’s back hit the ground, staring up at his sweaty mentor.

“satoru?” you’re sitting up on the bed, hugging a blanket to your chest as your brows press together in worry.

the fighter suddenly feels his entire body melt through the ground, wanting it to swallow him whole. he definitely ruined everything—

“is everything okay?”

of course. it was so natural for you to always be worried about him. that was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. love? was he in love with you? well maybe…he couldn’t stop the butterflies breaking out in his tummy.

however, as he stared at you across the room with his adorably big doe eyes, the retired mma fighter clicked his tongue, licking his teeth as he glared down at his protégé eyes dark.

“i think he’s fine, pup.”

satoru flushed at the pet name being used in his presence. you however somehow already made your way over wearing one of toji’s shirts, kneeling in front of satoru. “your face is warm, you were drinking a lot after the fight — i told you to go easy.” you scold him.

“I’m—“ his words get stuck in his throat. he’s so flustered feeling your soft hand feel his face, careful not to touch his bruises and stitches.

but that was just you because he suddenly feels a large figure lean behind him and pull the waistband of his black boxers down so easily exposing his semi hard cock covered in sticky white cum. “i think he’s fine.”

your eyes go wide looking down at the mess in mr. smooth’s boxers. you glance up at him and then at toji, frowning as you hold his wrist. “stop, he could’ve—“

“he was jacking off to us.”

your lips part in shock. satoru burns red, his ears so pink he almost looked like he was going to burst into flames. “looks like he’s been here awhile unless he came this much once.”

“you were?” you didn’t know why you asked, it was obvious, and yet a sick feeling twisted inside you that made you want to embarrass the man that always carried himself with such confidence.

satoru’s head dropped, shoulders rising as he confessed. your cheeks were pink hearing him say he heard your moans and the door was open….

“w-why him?”

your brow quirks up.

“why this old man?!” satoru blurts loudly, making you jump from the switch up. his brows were pinched in anger, practically shaking with jealousy.

toji barks with laughter behind him. “well someone’s jealous.”

“i am! you’re my age and you’re so much prettier and hotter than him!—he’s old, mean, and definitely past his prime—“ satoru feels a hard slap upside the head.

“watch it,” toji’s deep voice sends another flush of burning envy flooding through him.

satoru sulks, “it’s not fair.”

you’re so flustered, and toji can’t help but smirk. his hand falling on the snowy hair, grabbing his locks as he pushes him forward.

“kiss her.”

your eyes go wide, but before you can look up your feel the man’s lips devour yours. his tongue so easily slipping into your mouth as he holds your face with both hands. toji is standing above you both eyes glinting with dark arousal as he watches his student make out with his girlfriend. you easily melt into the messy kiss. his tongue was sweet and greedy, playing with you. he kissed the inside of your mouth as he whines in pleasure. he was so vocal you smile. toji keeps a hand on the boys head tugging harshly making him moan into your mouth as you follow his lips. it was different from toji’s kisses. toji was mean and rude, embarrassing you with his kisses, making them as loud and messy as he could, having you tremble until you were panting like a puppy. but satoru, he was savoring every touch of your tongue, every breath you took, it was adorable.

“ah!” satoru yelps, toji tugging his head back aggressively. you’re still straddling the ground, panting so adorably as you feel your arousal and toji’s cum slip out onto the ground. satoru’s face was flushed as he stared at you with dark eyes. “more.” he was greedy. he’s always gotten his way, and the way he gazed up at toji was no different from the way he’d beg for another break during training.

“getting pretty selfish now, you got a kiss, maybe be grateful, especially when ya came in your fucking boxers like a middle schooler.”

you knew toji was mean, and he was especially hard on satoru. and yet you’ve been with the man for quite some time now and you know exactly how to make him concede.

you lean forward, hand reaching for satoru’s chin, thumb pulling down on his pout. “show toji how much you’re hurting, ya?”

toji’s eyes darken, especially when the white haired brat so easily pulls his boxers and pants down to his knees. his cock throbbing an aggressive purple, all from kissing you. you feel jittery looking at what he’s packing. his girth was not a bigger stretch than what toji makes you feel, but his length and curve had your mouth watering. he was so pretty, and the white hairs that led to his base had you seeing pink, you wanted to feel him.

“fuck ‘m leaking,” satoru’s jaw clenches, embarrassed how hard he is. his boxers were a mess and you were looking right at him.

your tongue peaks out as you smile, hand reaching out to run a finger around his tip collecting his messy cum, as you tap his little slit repeatedly making him shiver and buck. “you look like you’re gonna burst.” you tease, leaning forward just to tease him some more. your face so close to his tip, your breath fanning against him as he squirms away just a little.

“y/n…wait…”

“pup, keep y’r mouth shut,” toji’s warns you, grip tight around satoru’s hair. he knows exactly what you’re doing. fuck, he taught you that stupid trick. but you don’t listen. you blow cool air onto satoru’s twitching cock and your finger tickles the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, giving it a single scratch with your nail watching in delight as satoru unravels. his hips bucking up into the air as his cum shoots out from his tip, hitting your face and mouth. it came in three adorable bursts.

you’re laughing so adorably as your tongue peaks out as you taste his cum on your lips. “you’re so pretty.”

fuck, satoru is shivering as his cock still stands up high. toji licks his teeth, as you look up at him, your face was his biggest weakness, and toji wasn’t reluctant, in fact he wanted to do it so badly that he was afraid how far they’ll use you. but with that look in your eyes it took seconds for you to be on the bed as satoru’s tongue licked your pussy.

“angh toru!” you cry grabbing a fist full of his hair. his eyes glance up watching you cry loudly. the lewd sounds of his lips slurping up toji’s cum that oozed out of your puckering hole. it was bitter, and definitely tasted like a man, and yet the sweetness of your arousal mixed in had him whining into your pussy, burying his face deeper, his arms grabbing your thighs.

“fucking nasty,” toji chuckles as he comes back with a glass of water, kneeling by the bed as he chugs a gallon before swishing some more in his mouth. satoru feels his skin burn as he watches toji grabs your face, squishing your cheeks so your lips are open, leaning down, feeding you the water. your body catches on fire, lighting up even more so. “cmon you’re always yapping, make her cum already.”

“fuck you,” satoru spits, only for toji to reach down and pinch your clit.

your back arches as you cry out in surprise. “toji!”

“do you not know what a clit is?” toji laughs as satoru grits his teeth in anger.

“i do, i was just about to suck it! I was doing it before you came in!” satoru moves his fingers inside you, making you gasp, only for toji to pinch your clit between his fingers making you cry, burying your face in his chest as he leans his face to your forehead.

“awe is satoru doing a bad job?”

you shake your head, hand reaching to scratch at toru’s undercut, pulling him closer to your pussy. “no…i like it….feels good….angh toru feels good. he’s a good boy.”

he practically combusts at your praise, eyes shining so bright toji had to roll his eyes and crash his lips against yours, letting satoru abuse your clit with his lips as he fucked his fingers deep inside you making you clench up. you gasp as toji bites your mouth and cheek as you roll your hips against satoru’s hot mouth.

“m’m gunna cum…” you whine, thighs trembling, your hand pressing his head against your pussy, and all he could think about was how fucking good it feels to be suffocated between your legs pussy crying against his face as you clench around his fingers, cumming hard.

toji feels his cock jump in his boxers as your eyes roll back, staring up at him as he admires how fucking pretty his girl is. even though some brat was eating you out, he couldn’t help falling in love with you.

“wanna feel his cock inside ya?” toji teases, feeling you shiver against his body, turning your face to his neck as you feel dizzy. satoru is panting, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the other grabs the flesh of your thigh. toji glances down at the brats painfully hard cock. “y’r clean?”

satoru hums, “you know.” it was true that before matches they test for drugs and any other sort of diseases.

toji manhandles you so you were straddling him, his hand holding your face. “awe, you look like ya still wanna be fucked.” he coos, petting your head as you pout, leaning into his touch like a good pet. “satoru’s never felt y’r tight little cunt.”

satoru is watching so patient — he was shocked with himself. watching toji coax you back to your senses was so fucking making him hot all over. you were so dumb just by cumung from his lips and now toji was petting you back to reality. he could almost see your imaginary tail wagging as you lean into toji’s palm. your pussy was probably getting even more wet right now with toji’s praises.

“toru,” you coo.

his head perks, rushing over as you turn around, throwing your arms around his shoulders, so he can pull you to his lap. your nails scratch his scalp, gazing at his flushed cheeks, his lips so pink and glossy it made you even more squirmy. you crane your neck to look at toji, he was reclined on the bed grabbing at his bulge through his boxers as you frown at him. “stop it.”

his brow rises. “stop what? don’t be a fuckin brat.”

your pout is so deep that satoru can’t stop himself from attacking your neck. his ego swelling as he hears you moan in pleasure, you were straddling him, but you were hovering up on your knees, pressing your entire body against his chiseled chest as your pussy leaked onto him. his arms wrapped around your ass and back. toji smiles as he pulls his cock out, wrapping his hand around his base, still messy from when he was fucking you earlier. it was addicting watching satoru claim you in front of him. hearing your moans from a distant and watching your entire body shiver. fuck.

“you’re so pretty,” satoru sighs, spreading your cheeks apart as you hold his hair, pulling it back so you can look at his face.

your lips brush his, “i wanna feel you cum inside me, yeah?”

satoru nearly came on the spot. but he was able to control himself, burying his face in your neck, ears bright pink.

“how bout you lay her down, and fuck her nice and deep, can y’r dick do that?” toji’s constant taunting had both you and satoru frowning. well for different reasons of course. satoru didn’t like his mentor demeaning him like that, and you couldn’t stand the fact that he was touching himself. and he knows you hate it when he jacks himself off. you were greedy like that and it was definitely a button he loved to push.

and yet, satoru flipped you down, your back hitting the mattress as he slipped between your legs. he sat up pulling the back of his collar over his head. your eyes were so big as you watched him strip the final article of clothing off, his dark black and purple bruises covered his chest and ribs, but you didn’t have a chance to reach for him because toji was sitting beside your face, and his hand wrapped around both his and satoru’s cock.

“awe pup, wanna give him a kiss before he goes inside ya?”

your cheeks flush as you reach up. “ya, wanna give him a kiss.”

satoru groans, straddling your chest, muscular thighs spread wide as his cock hangs in front of your face. toji’s rough palm was stroking him as you lean forward pressing a kiss to his tip. your wet lips making contact with his fat cockhead electing a low whine so audibly that toji couldn’t help but pet his head.

your hand runs up his abs, careful of his bruises as you suck some of the pre cum from him, gaze never leaving his as he flushes all over. he looks so pretty kneeling above you, his hand grasping yours, squeezing it so adorably you have to close your thighs. “you gonna cum this fast?”

“no,” satoru snaps. and moves away from your warm wet mouth. “I’m gonna fuck her now.” his gaze falls on you. “you want that right?”

you nod eagerly. his eyes light up at your obedience, until he suddenly feels his hair getting pulled again—

“oww,” he almost whines, glaring at the perpetrator.

toji smiles crudely, it was fun making him all pissed off. “she wants another kiss.”

satoru eyes snap down to you, his heart racing as you reach your arms out for him, and he falls so easily. “am’ sorry,” he mutters against your lips, breath hot feeling your sweet tongue rub against his. your legs easily wrap around his firm waist. your thumbs caress his cheeks as he deepens the kiss groaning as he plays with your tongue unbothered by toji’s grip on his hair.

“put it inside me,” you sigh, gaze unwavering as you squeeze his face in your hands, tongue licking up his lips teasing. “kiss me as you put it inside.”

“fuck, you’re so hot,” he crashes his mouth on you. his free hand moving between your bodies, grasping his cock with a firm grip. your heart was hammering, you wanted to feel his cock inside you. the satoru gojo, the once in a lifetime talent, buckling and bending right above you. he guides himself to your slick entrance. your nails lightly scratch as his jaw as you feel his tip prodding at your hole teasing.

you bite his lip, nibbling on it before pulling it back. satoru feels a shiver run through his body, eyes squinting just briefly. he won’t last. even though you’re wiggling your hips up practically begging to get railed right in front of his coach and your boyfriend — he has to move a hand down to grasp your ass.

“gotta go slow,” he confesses, his face presses against yours, lips panting against your cheek. “I’ll cum if I go in too fast.”

your eyes only seem to light up at the confession until you feel a big hand on top your head.

“let him go slow,” toji’s low voice catches your attention. turning your face to his as his thumb rubs your forehead. he doesn’t make a move to tease satoru yet, instead he leans down pulling satoru by the hair so he connect his lips to you. you whine so loud in his mouth that satoru feels his own abs clench. he was so close he can feel the heat radiating from the two of you.

toji looks over at satoru as he’s kissing you. “I’ll keep her distracted, so take y’r time.”

his words definitely sink in as satoru carefully begins to push himself inside you, your pussy wrapping around him inch by inch. “angh, you’re so good,” you pant, pushing toji’s face slightly to grab satoru back, your lips attacking his. he nearly buckles, meeting your lips again. toji couldn’t help how greedy you are. it was definitely a little power trip you had. having been with toji for most of your real adult sex life, you always liked when he came fast, so when satoru confessed his ordeal at the moment, toji knew it sparked something inside you. however unlike him, satoru is just as greedy.

“ngh, a little more,” he pants, whining just a little when you clench around him, bucking your hips. “fucking—fuck, baby,”

satoru drops his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck as you scratch down his back, feeling a sharp thrust. your eyes nearly pop, why did he feel deeper than toji.

“ungh is that good for ya?” satoru barks.

you scratch at his neck, “ya-it’s so deep. you’re in my tummy,” you whine so gently, that satoru cents stop himself from fucking you.

you moan with joy as he starts picking up the pace. satoru was on high, having prevented himself from cumming the second he bottoms out now with a goal of making you feel better than ever. if he only had one night with you, then fuck it.

toji sat him, stroking his cock, catching your attention as you turned your face. your eyes narrowed as your hand left toru’s shoulder reaching for toji’s fat cock. “mine.”

“don’t be selfish,” toji grabs your wrist, making you whine, however satoru feels you clench up. fuck he’ll never understand your relationship, and yet he’s so turned on by it. “if ya want it so bad, open your mouth.”

you seem like you’ve won, and you might’ve with how happy you are with licking up toji’s cock. satoru didn’t stop his pace, throwing a leg over his shoulder using more force to reach you so deep.

“I knew you’d feel good,” he pants, leaning his head close not caring that you were sucking toji off. you whine, holding satoru’s face as you turn to kiss him. he almost rejoiced at the taste of toji in his mouth, unbothered because your sweet lips had him whipped. “mngh, good fuck—“ satoru grunts as you start to shiver. turning back to kiss toji’s tip.

toji was watching above with a glint in his eyes, you were spent. and yet he wanted to shove his cock deep in your throat as satoru fucks you with everything inside him. seeing you absolutely ruined had him grinning. his poor little puppy.

“cmon pup, keep sucking on my dick.” toji growls as you tongue his twitching vein. you knew exactly how to blow his cock that way he liked. your hand moving to play with the hairs on his base.

satoru hums, “i wanna fuck you all night hngh ah you feel so good baby, fuck—fuck m’ not gunna last,” his moans so easily turn to bratty whines that you pull his lips to yours again, toji doesn’t care, instead he leans closer, letting his heavy cock rest beside you. his tongue traces his scar briefly as you easily suck his tip, while satoru chases your lips, your tongues tangling against leaking cock head. it was hypnotizing. he felt like he was being drugged with your lips, even enjoying the bitter taste of toji’s cum invading his taste buds was making him harder. you tighten around him, whining and squealing as toji pushes his cock between your lips again letting you suck and drool as satoru drops his head beside your face.

“gun cum, toru—please cum.. please—“

his jaw clenched, “angh you’re squeezing me to death,” he presses so close to you that he felt his dick melt. “cant—fuck m’ I’m cumming!” his finger manages to weave between you to mimic what toji had down earlier. pinching your clit, your hips jumped as you moan around toji’s tip, pulling away briefly. satoru’s abs clench, letting out a whining moan. tears fill his eyes as he jerked his hips forward cumming.

you saw white as he rubbed your clit quickly until you shook with pleasure. you were spasming around satoru as he pressed his weight on you. your drool was being smeared by toji’s cock as you shiver from the amount of cum satoru was spilling inside. “you came so much, toru.” you coo, turning to kiss his ear, licking at it. you feel him jerk above you, whining in your embrace.

“blew your load quicker than I thought,” toji pats his head, apathetic.

“shut up,” satoru mutters against your neck. “I wasn’t expecting her to be so tight. especially with you fucking her every day.”

you giggle, turning to kiss satoru as he whines, so pussy whipped he’s still jumping his load inside you, trying to ignore how painful it feels right now. it wasn’t until satoru pulls away does he notice how spent you are. the bruises he knows he left on your neck along with the sticky mess that connected you both. his eyes practically see hearts, and then there was toji. his cheeks a natural flush, chest sweaty, and his dick throbbing .

“how’re ya feelin, sweetheart?” toji was kneeling down on the bed, his hand stroking your hair as you turn to look at him, your eyes glazed over with a cloud, smiling.

satoru was twitching inside you as he felt you tighten around him. fuck your body was so easy to read, and it was saying in all caps that you were absolutely downright in love with his mentor. it was tough pill to swallow and yet he loved that he could see you like this, even though he knew so clearly that he can never have you for himself—

“toji ❤︎”

your lips fell to lazy smile as he wrapped his hand behind your head affectionately, meeting his lips sensually. his lips were gentle, and inviting, his taste making you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“you like that brats dick that much?”

you hum, holding satoru’s hand snapping him back to reality as came at your command. “he’s so nice.” you coo, shifting your gaze to the white haired boy. satoru nearly came again as toji kissed your neck, side eyeing him. “he made me feel so good and gave me so much cum, like a good boy.”

“fuck.”

you give him a toothy smile before pulling him to your addicting lips. it was sloppy and messy, shivering as he slowly began to pull out. it was a mix of panting and kissing as you turned from one man to the other. not single one giving you a break as they attacked your lips.

“you can give us one more,” toji mutters, so easily lifting you up.

you whine, legs shaking as you feels gojo’s cum slip down your thighs. “just one more,” you hug toji, burying your face in his neck as he hums, kneeling up on the bed. he clicks his tongue signaling for satoru to kneel in front.

“don’t worry, you’ll get to be in the final act.”

he didn’t know what to expect, instead he watched as toji slipped his still very erect cock inside you. satoru watched his cum slide down toji’s length the deeper he went in.

“fuck. you filled her up good. did you empty out?”

satoru’s cheeks went red. “shut up.”

toji’s strong arms wrap under your legs grasping your ass and his pace quick from the start. you were a crying mess, your nails scratching down toji’s back, breaking skin as you sob and moan. “take it like a big girl, cmon pup,” toji was mean. satoru couldn’t stop himself from leaning over to pat your head as he kissed your cheek beside the big bad toji. you were drooling on his shoulder as satoru kissed you.

“two peas in a pod,” toji grunts, spinning you around. satoru was in awe at how easily toji handled you, and your lips were already sucking toru’s cock as he groans, head falling back as toji gave you the most delicious back shots. his hand coming down on your ass, then rubbing the red print. toji was rough, his eyes focused on your pussy swallowing him with each thrust, then at your lips causing poor satoru to shake from pleasure. toji held your leg up, spreading you even more open as he slid deeper making your eyes grow wide. you pull away, burying your face in the sheets, but your grip was tight enough the satoru jerked like crazy, tears falling from his eyes as he came.

“fuck your fast,” toji comments again, laughing.

“I’m injured!” satoru covers his face. you came too, but unlike satoru, toji lifted you up. he pulled out before having you sit back on his lap again, his arms once again under your beautiful thighs slipping back in as he fucked your in full nelson. satoru watched with wide eyes. your head thrown back on toji’s shoulder and your heavy tits bouncing with pleasure.

“fuck, cmon pup, i know you wanna go,” toji growled in your ear as you cried, burying your face against his neck.

“ah no—it’s embarrassing…” you squeal as you feel toji go deeper, the rapid stimulation of his cock hitting your cervix.

“it’s fucking hot…ngh don’t be a baby,” toji grunts, and satoru can hear the explicit sounds of your pussy squelching with each thrust. it sounded so lewd, his heart racing as he stroked himself through the overstimulation. “angh fuck, I’m not gonna cum in ya—“

“no!” you cry, but it turns into another muffled squeal. “but toru…”

your eyes meet, and it all came out. your back arched away from toji’s chest, your mouth fell open as your vision turned white.

“atta girl,” toji chuckles, watching you squirt right in front of satoru. if toji was mean then satoru was downright filthy. “fuck you catch on quick.”

satoru was licking your pussy, it was messy especially with toji still getting through his sloppy thrusts until he stills deep inside you, blowing his load. toji’s face twisted in pleasure as he felt his cum mix with satoru’s inside you. you tremble, pressing a hand down on satoru’s head as you shake, squirming in toji’s grip. “s-stop….ngh I can’t…” satoru pulls away, his hand rubbing up your tummy until you’re leaning forward wrapping your arm around his shoulder. toji allows him to pick you up, hugging you tight and close as you calm down.

if you were to ask satoru what his best and worst night was. it would be this one. he was able to experience sex with someone he loved with every fiber of his being, but also get his heart broken in the same night.

and yet he has no regrets.

he still hugged you the same, offered you a helping hand the same. he never stopped caring for his sweet manager, because it’s not his fault you were madly in love with his mentor.

“so how’d it go?”

satoru jumped back, suguru appearing beside him.

“what?”

“the confession?” suguru clarified.

“oh, that,” satoru leans back on the bench. “she has a boyfriend.”

suguru clicks his tongue. “I told you.” he raises a brow as satoru stares at you across the gym longingly. “did you meet him or something?”

“something like that.”

suguru rolls his eyes, that is until satoru throws his arms over his best friend dramatically.

“I’ll tell you after I get over this heartbreak!!!”

suguru sighs, patting his back. “yeah yeah.”

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Everyone who had eyes thought that. You did so, too.

But a wedding reception was neither the time nor place for him to sulk like someone took away his favorite toy or that he couldn’t pass that difficult level in his current game. He was glaring at the joined hands of the bride and groom with such disdain it would have been comical had the groom not been one of his absolute closest friends. The couple was almost halfway to the walkway and yet, your dearest and most idiotic friend, Seokjin, still didn’t announce the couple. 

You leaned forward, making a subtle but frantic gesture—a silent command to announce the couple. This was the eleventh time this year one of his friends had tapped Seokjin to emcee their wedding, and he clearly hadn't learned to leave his personal grudges outside the event’s room. Although at first, he took it like a champ. 

He would show up with a smile on his face, his suit impeccable, his hair neatly brushed up. Truly, he was happy for his friends. He felt nothing but pure, vicarious joy as he watched them find their forever. It was a good thing they were finding love, he thought. For the first seven weddings he hosted, he felt nothing but happiness for his friends. 

Well, until the eighth wedding wherein his friends’ mothers kept on asking when he would be next and when he said he was still single, they looked at him with pity and told him he’d find love soon. They told him to hang in there, that one day he would no longer be alone. 

Seokjin didn’t know what to feel about that and so, he chose to be offended. 

Where was this love and why did it seem so elusive?!

Where was this love and why was it so slow to deliver his person?!

Where was this love and why did it seem to find everyone else but him?!

He wasn’t really conscious before. In fact, he was confident that he would be the first to tie the knot. But somewhere between his busy schedule of running a company, endless board meetings and arriving home late, the certainty had slipped through his fingers without him noticing. 

Maybe love took one look at him and decided that it would rather arrive late. 

The couple was practically in his face and yet, looking earnestly at him, and Seokjin still looked like he was having an existential crisis. The room hummed with expectation. Music waited. Guests shifted. You subtly stood up, and waved at him just to get his attention. 

Finally, finally, he blinked. Suddenly, his eyes turned to you, unfocused at first, as you were mouthing exaggeratedly about announcing the couple. You frowned at the way he looked at you because it was as though he was looking at you for the first time. It was as though he was seeing you fully for the first time since the two of you became friends. The way he looked at you wasn’t absentminded nor was it distracted.

No.

The way he was looking at you was something akin to intent. 

Seokjin finally blinked.

Then he cleared his throat, turned back to the couple, and with a practiced smile announced the happy couple—while somewhere in his chest, something had just begun to arrive.

Seokjin thought that maybe love was not late, maybe he was just not looking when it arrived. 

—

Sometime later, Seokjin announced the commencement of the flower throwing with his usual polished ease, gently inviting anyone who wished to partake to step forward. Laughter rippled through the crowd as the bride moved to her spot, bouquet in hand, her smile bright and mischievous. Meanwhile, as the girls walked in the middle, ready to catch the bouquet, Seokjin calmly stepped down from the podium, his steps unhurried as he walked straight to the center of the group, much to everyone’s surprise. 

He was the tallest and only man there and he looked absolutely ready to do anything just to catch the bouquet. His expression was so serious, so focused, that one would think catching that bouquet was a matter of life and death.

“Your son is a weird one,” you commented to his mother who was sitting beside you, looking at her son who was stretching his legs and doing lunges before sighing. 

“You’ve been friends since you were in middle school and darling, you’re only noticing that now?”

“I know. I should have ended that friendship a long, long time ago,” you replied solemnly as he lunged forward, long arms stretching past a chorus of surprised shrieks—and caught the bouquet with decisive ease.

“I think,” his mother said slowly as she watched her son straighten, flowers in hand, eyes already locked on you across the room, “it’s far too late to end that friendship, dear.”

Your breath hitched.

Seokjin didn’t hesitate. He didn’t smile. He didn’t joke around like he usually did. He simply began walking toward you, purpose in every stride, the bouquet held like a trophy uncaring of the camera pointed at him.

You blinked owlishly when he stopped right in front of you. Without any preamble, he presented the bouquet to you, his face serious. You looked around you and saw people watching. Right then and there, you wanted to smack your friend for acting so weirdly. 

You looked up at him from your seated form. “What?” 

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he nudged the bouquet closer, as though the flowers themselves were meant to explain everything. His face remained impossibly serious, eyes steady on yours as numerous flashes of cameras illuminated your confused expression that you had no choice but to accept the bouquet. 

“We are next to get married.” 

—

He wasn’t Kim Seokjin for nothing.

It was proven once again when you woke up the next day, your phone buzzing with congratulatory messages from people you knew who were sending their best wishes saying they were surprised and that they didn’t know you and him were dating

You groaned and wanted to tell them that you didn’t know you were dating him, too. 

By the time you dragged yourself fully awake, the news was everywhere. Group chats were on fire. Social media posts were tagged. Speculation articles—articles—floated around about your impending nuptials with the most sought-after bachelor in town, complete with grainy photos from the wedding and a suspiciously romantic angle of him holding out that damned bouquet.

You wanted to know how Seokjin was going to explain that he was merely joking. 

By the time you got ready for work, you found the object of your frustration leaning against your car, a coffee in hand, dark shades hiding his eyes from the sun that did absolutely nothing to disguise the infuriating ease in him. 

He looked comfortable like he slept extremely well last night. 

He was smiling at you as though he did nothing short of ruining your life or reputation once the joke was cleared. In fact, he merely raised the coffee slightly in greeting so casually. “Good morn-”

Your greeting, instead, was a sucker punch to his well-defined stomach. “Oof—” Seokjin bent forward on instinct, breath knocked clean out of him. And then, in an unbelievable feat, he laughed. A low, breathless chuckle escaped him as he straightened slowly, taking his sweet time before reaching up to remove his sunglasses.

His eyes met yours, bright, amused, and entirely unapologetic.

“When do you want to get married?”

“Are you insane? Did the lack of sleep finally get to you?!” 

He titled his head to the side as though he was assessing himself. “No, princess. I slept real fine actually.”

“Then you must have hit your head. That is the only plausible explanation left.”

He shook his head slowly, “No.That’s not it.”

“Then why do you suddenly want to get married?!” you demanded. “To me, no less!”

“Because-”

You placed your finger on his pouty lips because you just knew he wasn’t going to say anything good. Clearly, you had to bring your friend to a doctor, preferably a psychologist because it was apparent that he wasn’t okay. Why else would he suddenly want to marry you?! No sane person woke up one day and decided to marry their best friend.

“We’re not even dating!” you blurted out.

He tilted his head as though he saw no problem with that, “Let’s go on a date today.” 

—

“Ma’am, please believe us, your husband is okay-”

“He’s not my husband,” you corrected the doctor with a grimace on your face.

“O-oh, sorry. Your boyfriend, then-”

“Nope. Not even my boyfriend.”

Seokjin was smiling warmly at you. Initially, you thought that he would refuse to get checked by the doctor but then  he just shrugged and drove to the hospital himself. 

Calm. Composed. Infuriatingly responsible.

“She’s my soulmate,” he added casually to the doctor who was looking at you and him with confusion and worry in his eyes. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered under your breath before forcing a polite smile at the doctor. “Are you absolutely sure there isn’t a loose screw somewhere in his brain?” you pointed to his head. “He hasn’t been acting well lately. I’m just really worried.”

The doctor shook his head confidently. “He’s really fine. His brain is one of the healthiest I have ever seen.”

Now, that’s just bullshit, you thought. 

Seokjin, meanwhile, leaned back in the hospital chair, still grinning at you like the problem was solved. “See, I am fit to marry you. We can rule out insanity, as well, in the cause of divorce you are already planning in your head.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, glaring at him full on. Then you faced the doctor again, expression deadly serious. “Doc,” you said calmly, “test me. I think I’m unwell.”

—

You thought a one-week overseas conference would calm the situation. Hell, you were even thinking that you would have your best friend back. You know, the one who wasn’t hellbent on marrying you? The one who would pop by your house any day at night to cook you dinner or watch movies with you as the day dwindled down? The one who would invite you to his house on a Friday night to try out the new drink his company made? The one who would listen to your stresses at work and would somehow make your problems disappear?

Similar to that one night in college when you were harassed by a senior and somehow the next day, he was robbed and beaten to an inch of his life…

“So instead of facing your problems, you ran?”

You nodded at Hoseok, one of your associates and Jin’s friend. “Yup. But seriously, who catches a bridal bouquet and gives it to their best friend whom they weren’t even dating?”

Hoseok tilted his head with a confused smile. You were on your way out of the airport with Hoseok, fully expecting your ride to be there. “Actually, that’s the part that surprised me the most. I thought you and hyung were in this lowkey longterm relationship?” 

“Huh?” you turned to him with a frown on your face. 

“You honestly didn’t know? We all thought you guys were dating…”

You halted in your tracks and faced him in realization, “God, is that why I am still single?! I mean- I know I am so beautiful. Like, I am the complete package, Hoseok. I am smart. I am beautiful. I can be kind. Mothers love me. Anyone would-”

“It’s like I’m looking at the girl version of hyung,” Hoseok commented quietly, looking at you with fond amusement in his face. 

“-be so lucky to have me! And yet, no one was having me. Was that because of that?!”

Hoseok blinked and remembered all the time guys found you endearing and would ask Seokjin if you were single. His answer, now that Hoseok was remembering, was so ambiguous. He would either:

Scoff at them;

Glare at them;

Flat out answer them no; or worse

Sabotage their entire career.

“I mean, to be fair, he usually said it with such authority that no one questioned him. And he said it in a way that was so terrifying when we all know how jolly he is as a person. Besides! You can’t blame them. You guys share groceries, you have keys to each other’s places, and you literally fell asleep on his shoulder at the company gala last year. You are his profile picture! Most of us just assumed the ‘best friend’ label was a cover for some high-level corporate scandal or something.

Remember that project lead from the marketing department who tried to ask you out at the Christmas party? The one who was suddenly transferred to the Jeju branch the very next morning?”

Your jaw dropped. “I thought he just… really liked citrus farming?”

“He’s allergic to oranges,” Hoseok deadpanned. “And then there was that lawyer who kept sending flowers to your desk. Jin-hyung didn’t just throw the flowers away; he audited the guy’s firm. Personally. And then he set the flowers on fire.”

“W-what? I think those are just his strategic ways of keeping his company afloat.” You glared at him. “All I’m hearing is he’s been sabotaging my dating life!” 

He raised his hands in surrender, “Don’t kill the messenger? Hehe? Anyway…if the two of you weren’t playing this elaborate long game, then why is the final boss here?”

“What?”

Hoseok nodded to your right where the object of your headache, Kim Seokjin, was standing ten feet away, leaning against the hood of his car. He looked devastatingly good. The wind ruffled his dark hair, and his eyes—cold and sharp just a second ago while looking at his phone—softened into something dangerously dark and hungry the moment they landed on you.

He didn't wait for you to walk to him. He moved first, his stride long and elegant, cutting through the airport crowd like he owned the pavement. 

Hoseok shook his head, grinning knowingly. “Good luck with that, princess. Looks like he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Hi, hyung, you’re so handsome hyung!”

Seokjin glanced at Hoseok and offered him a polite nod, “Hoseok.” 

He turned to you and quietly took your suitcase as he always did for you. “And the runaway. You’re late. Your plane landed thirty minutes ago,” Jin said, his voice a low, smooth vibration. “And you didn't text me when you landed.”

You tried to grab your suitcase from him, to which he merely raised his brow at you. “I told you I’d take a taxi home,” you grumbled at the tall man in front of you. “And hey! I didn’t run away! I went to a very important conference!”

Hoseok murmured his quick goodbye upon sensing something he didn’t want to be part of. He didn’t just leave; he practically vanished, his footsteps retreating toward the taxi stand with the speed of a man who had seen the "Final Boss" enter the arena and knew when to fold his hand.

“And did your conference prevent you from replying to my messages or answering my calls?”

You raised your head and looked at him head on. You knew he was handsome. Hell, perhaps even the whole world knew how perfectly crafted his face was. You knew it. Deep inside your heart, you knew. You knew it deep down, but it was the kind of knowledge you had tucked away in a dusty corner of your mind—because he was your friend. For years, he had been the safe harbor, the constant one. For years, he had only ever been your friend. And now, he wanted you to look at him in a different light like the way he was looking at you right now. 

“And when did friends ever start sabotaging each other’s love lives?” you challenged, your voice laced with newfound realization.

Jin’s hand stilled on the luggage. He didn't look surprised. He didn't even look guilty. He just tilted his head, a slow, devastatingly confident smirk spreading across his lips.

“Oh,” he murmured, leaning down so his breath hitched against your ear. “So Hoseok has a big mouth. Good. It saves me the trouble of explaining why I’m not letting you go back to your apartment tonight.”

“Excuse me-” 

“You’ve had a week to run,” he interrupted, his voice a low, vibrating hum that felt far too intimate for a public sidewalk. “But you’re back now. And I’ve decided I’m done sharing your time with ‘potential’ mistakes.”

He straightened up, his eyes dark and burning with an intensity that made the "best friend" label feel like a distant, faded memory. He opened the passenger door, not as an invitation, but as a conclusion. “Get in the car.”

—

The reason why Kim Seokjin was so successful at such a young age was due to his tenaciousness and single-mindedness. 

When he set his mind on something, it was almost always certain that he would get it. There was no hindrance big enough that would prevent him from getting what he wanted. It was why he was able to reach his first million two years out of college and subsequently, his first billion five years after graduate school. 

He was a vicious businessman, but that persona was never directed at you. He was always kind, giving, and someone who loved to crack dad jokes at the most inappropriate time. Perhaps, this was why you didn’t know how to act around this Jin.

“I must say, about time that you two tie the knot,” your mother gushed at Seokjin who was politely pouring her a glass of drink. 

When Seokjin picked you up from the airport, the last place you thought he’d bring you was in your parents’ home that was three hours away from Seoul. Yet, here you were, sitting beside him at your childhood dining table all while your parents gushed over how handsome you ‘husband-to-be’ was.

“He has always been a steady fixture in your life, dear,” your father commented with a pleased smile on his face. “I thought our Jin here was waiting for a Government letter just to make this official! I am glad he’s being true to his promise to me.”

“What promise?” you asked, turning to your father with curiosity in your eyes. 

Seokjin set the bottle down with a soft clink. He didn’t look flustered. He didn’t even look like he was joking. He turned his head slightly toward you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of his body felt like a brand.

“I believe in doing things properly, sir,” Jin said, his voice smooth and respectful, yet carrying that underlying note of iron you’d heard at the airport. “I wanted to make sure she had her fun, traveled, and saw the world. But a week without her was a very long time. I realized I don’t particularly like it when she’s out of my sight.”

You blinked at the sincerity in his voice. The way he delivered them was laced with dark promise, something you never heard of him. You were in denial, you would admit. You thought that if you ignored this enough that he would return to how he was before. You could see now that he would see this through, regardless of how you reacted. 

“He promised when you were younger that he would always take care of you, dear. I mean, look at the two of you so many years later, still around each other.” 

He was always around your orbit.

Your friendship wasn’t weak, by any chance, no. But still, life would happen and people drifted apart - but never you and him.

He was always there.

He was there when you were drunk after failing an exam back in college, a watchful eye on you all the time as you wallowed in self-pity. He drove you home that night and in the morning, he gave you all the notes he took in that class. 

He was there when you landed your first ever job, celebrating with you and even buying you a new purse for your work. 

He was there when you had to move apartment because of a small fire in the building. You didn’t even have to call him. He was there as soon as he heard, already helping you move your things to a truck he drove himself. 

He was there to fix doors or change bulbs for you.

He was there when you were hospitalized due to overfatigue, taking care of you when you were discharged for the whole month until you kicked him out of your apartment for being overbearing. 

It was like a Pandora box opening, something you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to see or if you wanted to return them inside the box, never to be seen nor known again. 

“So of course, we give you our blessings,” your mother said, warm happiness in her eyes. 

To that, Seokjin smiled.

—

Kim Seokjin was someone who certainly moved fast. The transition from "best friend" to "fiancé" hadn't been a transition at all—it was a coup.

Things transpired too quickly that you weren’t even granted a reprieve, sometime to process your thoughts, to assess why your heart was beating fast. 

You watched as he meticulously taste tested the food to be served at your wedding, a wedding you had yet to agree on. He would give comments every now and then to the chefs. The two of you were in a private room at one of the most exclusive hotels in Seoul. He said there would be an important meeting here, he didn’t clarify yet again that it was something to do with your so-called wedding.  The space was airy, filled with the scent of truffle and expensive wine, but it felt like a gilded cage.

“Princess, taste this! I had them prepare your favorite meal,” Seojkin said, cutting a small portion with his fork before turning to you with a smile on his face.

You stare at him as he held the fork out, his expression bright and expectant—the same Jin who used to bring me takeout when you were too depressed to cook.

But when you looked into his eyes, that "dad joke" warmth was underscored by a frighteningly sharp focus.

"Jin," you said, voice sounding small even to your own ears. "We haven't even picked a date. I haven't even said yes."

He didn’t even flinch at you calling him out. “I picked out a date, princess. We are getting married on the 27th. Invitations are being sent out as we speak-”

“The 27th of what?! Next year?”

“No, silly,” he chuckled. “Next month.”

You blinked at his answer. “How are we even going to plan it? The dress? The place? The food-”

“So you do want to get married to me,” he teased with a pleased look on his face, his eyebrows wiggling.

“No- that’s not what I-”

“You said 'no' to the timing, but you didn't say 'no' to me,” he pointed out, his voice dropping into that low, vibrating hum. He took a single step closer, invading my space with the practiced ease of someone who had spent a decade learning exactly where my boundaries were—and how to cross them. “And as for the 'how'...”

He gestured vaguely to the room around us, where three assistants were silently charting notes on tablets.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” he said, and for the first time, he wasn't saying it as the friend who’d helped me move apartments. He was saying it as the man who had bent the market to his will. “I don’t wait for things to happen. I make them happen. The cathedral is booked. The invitations are being printed as we speak. The only thing left is your dress-”

“Do you love me?” 

You had to ask.

Seokjin blinked at the suddenness of your questions before he pointedly looked at the three assistants. They bowed before leaving the room. The heavy double doors clicked shut, leaving the expansive room in a sudden, ringing silence. The clinking of silverware and the hushed scratching of digital pens vanished, leaving only the sound of your own shallow breathing and the distant hum of the hotel’s ventilation.

Seokjin didn't move. He stood so close that you could smell the crisp, expensive scent of his cologne—something woody and sharp, like a forest in winter. The "business mogul" mask didn't slip, but his eyes changed. The calculated coldness softened into something much older, much deeper, and infinitely more unsettling.

“Do I love you?” he repeated.

He didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. Instead, he reached out, his hand moving with agonizing slowness until his thumb traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face upward so you had no choice but to drown in his gaze.

“I have spent the last 15 years being the man you needed me to be,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough, intimate whisper. “When you needed a tutor, I was the smartest man in the room. When you needed a driver, I was at your curb. When you were broken, I was your floor. When you were sick, I was your shadow.”

His hand slid back, his fingers tangling firmly into the hair at the base of your neck. It was a possessive gesture, one that anchored you to the spot.

“You think I do this for everyone?” he asked, a ghost of a bitter smile touching his lips. “You think I spent my first million buying a purse for a ‘friend’? You think I drove a moving truck across the city in the middle of a workday because I enjoy manual labor?”

He leaned in, his chest brushing against mine, his heartbeat steady and powerful against your own frantic pulse.

“I don’t just love you. I have unknowingly curated my entire life to be the only thing you ever need. Every success, every billion, every connection I’ve made was so that one day, when I finally decided to stop playing the 'best friend,' I could give you a world that no one else could touch.”

He leaned down further, his lips ghosting against my ear, sending a violent shiver down my spine.

“I’ve been patient for so long. But seeing you walk toward that gate at the airport last week... seeing you try to leave the orbit I built for you?” His grip on your neck tightened just a fraction—not enough to hurt, but enough to serve as a reminder that he wasn't letting go. “It made me realize that patience is a waste of time. I don’t want your 'yes' anymore. I want your presence. I want your name next to mine. And I want you to realize that we have always belonged to each other. We were just too naive to see that.”

—

Your eyes kept glancing at the calendar on your desk as Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung kept on droning about business and capital expenditures and even inventory ratio. You knew you should be paying attention to what they were saying, more so when they were planning on opening yet another branch but your eyes kept on drifting back to the encircled 27th of the calendar. 

It was next week. 

“And the cows can actually, in fact, fly,” Jimin shared with a nod. 

You blinked, brain stuttering as it caught up. “That’s biologically—” you started, already gearing up to argue, when you realized both men were staring at you far too calmly.

Taehyung tilted his head, lips curling. “So noona actually listens.”

“I am listening!” 

“Right…” Jimin drawled, unconvinced of your lie. He turned to Taehyung. “Noona must be so distracted, I would too, if I was marrying the Kim Seokjin.

Congratulations, by the way,” Jimin greeted with a smile so genuine that you almost said thank you. Everyone was telling you how lucky you were to marry such a man. But really, were you going to? Was this just one elaborate cruel prank? What if…what if he woke up one day and realized that you were a mistake? 

You couldn’t lose him like that.

You frowned before shaking your head. “Don’t believe him, Jimin. We’re not getting married. He’s going to get tired of this farce soon-”

“Noona!” Jimin yelped, slamming his palms onto the mahogany desk. “I already bought a wedding gift! It is non-refundable!”

Taehyung blinked owlishly, shifting his gaze from you to Jimin. “Oh, was that the Italy trip? The one with the private villa?”

“Yes!”

Taehyung didn't miss a beat, turning back to Jimin with a shrug of his shoulders. “Well, look at the bright side. If they end up not getting married, I’ll come with you. We can drink wine and mourn the loss of her sanity in Tuscany.”

You cleared your throat loudly. Neither of them looked at you.

“Look,” you said, exasperation creeping in, “just because he’s planning a wedding doesn’t mean we’re actually getting married—”

“That’s literally what that means,” Taehyung cut in dryly, finally turning his attention back to you.

You lifted your bare left hand. “Then where’s my ring?”

The room went still.

Jimin’s grin froze mid-smug. Taehyung blinked once. Twice.

“…Oh,” Taehyung said slowly.

Jimin leaned forward, eyes wide. “Oh no.”

“Our hyung is an idiot.”

—

Of course, he was here. 

You and him…you were never really able to stay away from each other. 

You always believed Seokjin to be your person, someone that was constant, someone you never had to worry about losing. 

It was why you turned down that job opportunity in Australia. 

It was why you chose to move near his apartment. 

It was why you never considered a life that didn’t have him in it. 

And somehow, you thought he felt that way, too. 

Maybe, it was why you found him sitting on your sofa outside your office at 9 in the evening, a cup of coffee in front of him as his focus was on his laptop that was balanced on his knee. You could hear your secretary quietly telling you that he didn’t want to disturb you and that he was content with working outside your office. 

You exhaled slowly and stepped closer, heels soft against the carpet. “You should have called.”

He looked up at you then, the familiar warmth in his eyes dimmed by something heavier. He closed the laptop with a quiet click before setting it aside.

“You wouldn’t have answered, darling.” he smiled at you as though daring you to refute his statement. “Anyway, dinner?”

You looked at the man in front of you, at the way his warm brown eyes held yours like they always had. Familiar. Safe. Dangerous in its own quiet way. This was the face you’d learned to read in a thousand small moments—the slight lift of his brows when he was worried, the softness in his smile when he was pretending not to be.

“Fine - but you’re paying.”

—

“I miss this,” you finally let out, the dishes spread across the table were all your favorites—things you never explicitly asked for, things he simply just knew. Kim Seokjin had always known how to cook, and judging by the way he sat back in his chair, arms loosely folded, he knew exactly what he’d done.

This was what you were used to. After work dinner at his place, talking about everything and being content with silence as well. With him, you never had to explain yourself. Somehow…he just knew. 

No one knew you the way that he did. 

“Then you probably should stop avoiding me.”

Your hand froze around your chopstick. You almost forgot how direct he could be when he wanted to. He was calmly sipping his beer as he watched you, the bottle hiding the smile on his face.

“I’ve been…busy.”

He laughed at your answer as though he was already expecting it. “We are never not busy, darling. We just always make time for each other. You know that.”

“Fine,” you said before putting the chopstick down with decisiveness that stemmed from exhaustion of pretending this was not something. You were too tired to pretend that this wasn’t something that could break your friendship, that this was something that would go away in time.

“Fine?”

“I…I have been avoiding you.”

“Because?” his brows lifted, urging you to continue. 

“Because…because I don’t know how far you are going to take this “wedding” thing. Honestly, Seokjin, what’s happening? You and I, we’re friends. We’ve been friends for so long. Friends don’t do this to each other.”

Seokjin regarded you for a moment, his brown eyes filled with sincerity before he calmly stood up. He rounded the table and stopped in front of you. To your surprise, Kim Seokjin knelt down in front of you before gently taking your hand. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, familiar in a way that made your chest ache. He looked at you like you were everything he ever needed and more. He looked at you so softly that you were sure he had never ever looked at anyone that way before.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “Friends don’t do this to each other.”

His gaze dropped. He inhaled deeply, as if steadying himself, before lifting the back of your hand to his cheek. 

“But I am so tired of pretending I don’t feel anything for you. I tried. God knows how much I tried to stop…to stop feeling like my heart beating dangerously fast when you enter the fucking room does not mean anything. That watching you with another man didn’t feel like a knife to my throat, that it was just me being overprotective when it was anything but that. I stopped pretending that obsessively craving for your presence was just friendship.”

He looked up at you then, eyes fierce, vulnerable, unguarded. “No. You’re not just my best friend. You own my fucking heart, every twisted edges of it. You own me. Completely.” His voice softened on the last words. “So tell me… why won’t you accept it?” he asked when what he really wanted to know was why you couldn’t accept him when he would simply perish without you. 

Your lips trembled, the surge of emotion heavy as you wondered how it turned out this way. Your best friend, the only constant thing in your life, the one who could have anything and anyone was looking at you as though he was begging for you to love him. 

And so, you did something you thought of every once in a while. You bent down and closed the distance between you and him. You reached down, cupping his face with trembling hands, your thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw.

For a heartbeat, he froze, his breath hitching in his throat. Then, you pulled him up.

The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't a cinematic slow-burn. It was desperate and messy—a collision of years of suppressed longing and unspoken truths. It tasted like salt and relief. His hands found your waist instantly, gripping you with a strength that spoke of a man finally finding solid ground after a lifetime at sea.

He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed tight as he exhaled a shuddering breath against your lips.

"Finally," he whispered, the word a jagged prayer. "Finally."

Seokjin groaned, his fingers slipping through your hair. His kiss chartered into something short of claiming. He paused, your breaths were the only thing that could be heard in his apartment. “Please tell me you want this.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering against the sensitive skin of your throat where his thumb now rested. The vulnerability in his expression—the Great Kim Seokjin reduced to a man begging for a single sentence—was what finally broke the last of your defenses.

“I want this,” you whispered, your voice gaining strength as the truth took hold. “I want all of you, Jin. And I don’t want to lose you. Ever. I just can’t lose you.”

His breath left him in a rush, almost a laugh, almost a prayer. “You won’t,” he promised softly. “You won’t lose me. I’ll be yours just as much as you’ll be mine.”

He said your name like it was sacred, like it belonged to him in the quietest, most reverent way. He didn't go back to the desperate, bruising kisses of moments ago. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, then each of your eyelids, and finally the tip of your nose. It was a silent vow, a promise that now that he had you, he would spend every day proving he was worthy of the trust you’d just placed in his hands.

When you woke the next morning, your eyes squinted against the sunlight filtering through his curtains. It took a second for your vision to adjust long enough for the real shock to hit.

The diamond on your left hand caught the light and scattered it everywhere.

For a heartbeat, you simply stared.

“Will you marry me?” Seokjin murmured sleepily from behind you, his arm still snug around your waist, his voice warm and unguarded, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

You turned slightly, breath catching, heart already knowing the answer.

“I will,” you whispered, smiling into the morning.