🐈‍⬛

You sat curled up in the corner of the living room couch, arms folded tightly across your chest as you stared at absolutely nothing. The television droned on in the background, some late-night program filling the silence, but you hadn't paid attention to a single word in over an hour.

He'd promised. Really promised. Tonight, he wasn't going to be late.

And yet the clock had kept ticking, one minute bleeding into the next, until you'd found yourself sitting alone on the couch in one of his old black t-shirt, fabric hanging loose around you and swallowing your frame whenever you pulled the hem down. The annoyance had started as small, but the longer you waited, the more it settled into your chest.

By the time headlights flashed through the window, you'd worked yourself into a proper sulk. The front door finally creaked open. Familiar scent drifted in before he did, followed by the scrape of his boots being kicked off by the door. Relief immediately tried to worm its way through your irritation, but you stubbornly shoved it back down.

Nope. Not happening. You were still mad. Very mad.

"Sugar?" Toji's voice carried through the house, worn down from a long day. "You still awake?"

You said nothing. Instead, grabbed the throw blanket beside you and wrapped it a little tighter around yourself, fixing your attention firmly on the TV screen as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.

You weren't about to spell it out for him. If Toji wanted to know what was wrong, he could damn well figure it out himself.

The house was quiet for a moment, followed by the soft thud of his footsteps against the wooden floor. When he finally noticed you on the couch, pouting hard enough to rival a toddler, he let out a long sigh that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh.

Because unfortunately for him, he knew that look. And even more unfortunately, he knew it was probably his fault.

“Awww, c'mon, don't gimme that face, brat.” Toji's voice carried amusement as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the armchair. There was something unfairly attractive about the way he moved, even after a long day. While most people came home looking done for, he somehow managed to look so.... fuckable.

Even then, it only made your annoyance grow. Here you had been sitting on that couch for hours, counting every damn seconds and he walked in acting like he hadn't broken a promise for the hundredth time.

So you did the only reasonable thing. You turned your head away. “I'm not talking to you.”

The words came out muffled, but you stuck to them anyway, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as though it might somehow protect you from him.

He'd promised. That was the whole point. He had looked you right in the eye that morning and promised he'd be home on time, and like an idiot, you'd believed him.

“Yeah?” Toji drawled. “Then who've you been sittin' here waitin' for all night?”

You hated how easily he saw through you. But before you could come up with a response, he crouched down in front of the couch, resting his hands on your knees. Even through the blanket, you could feel the warmth of his palms.

“I know,” he said, the teasing fading from his voice. “I know, baby. Got held up.”

You gave him your best, most dramatic eye-roll. “You always get held up.”

“I don't always get held up.”

“You literally do.”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “Alright, fair. But y'know I'd rather be here... buried in my pretty little wife."”

The admission caught you off guard enough that your pout almost slipped and let's just ignore the furious blush burning across your face. “But you promised.”

His expression softened slightly at that. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did. This is last. I swear."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. His thumbs traced absent minded circles against your knees while he looked up at you, and that somehow made it worse. It would've been easier to stay angry if he'd argued back. Why is he looking at you like that?

You squirmed, trying to maintain your pout, but it was already cracking under him. Still you were feeling particularly difficult tonight.

"You always say that," you muttered, glaring at him from under your lashes. "Maybe you should just stay out next time if it's so hard to be a man of your word."

Something dangerous flickered through his gaze, a warning spark that made yo grip onto the sheets unconsciously. His hands squeezed your thighs, thumbs pressing circles into your soft flesh.

"Wanna repeat that, sugar?" he asked, voice low and sweet as poison.

You opened your mouth to bite back, to sass him further but before a single word left your lips, Toji surged forward, dragging you onto his lap with a rough yank, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other draped across your thighs. The position wasn't uncomfortable by any means, but it made it abundantly clear that he had no intention of letting you escape anytime soon.

"Better be real careful, doll," he whispered against your jaw, stubble scraping your skin deliciously. "You know what happens when you run your mouth."

You twisted slightly, attempting to free yourself, but the effort was half-hearted at best. Toji barely reacted, his arm tightening just enough to keep you exactly where you were.

“Toji, let me go!!”

“Nah.”

He was being so mean to you. And the fact that he was enjoying this so much only irritated you further. “You're impossible.”

“Been tellin' you that for years.” The smug grin on his face made you want to smack him again.

“...Yeah. One day I might—”

The rest of your sentence died in your throat when he suddenly drove his hips forward, grinding against your crotch. And a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “You might what?”

His eyes held yours, daring you. “Go on, sweetheart. Finish it.” The challenge in his tone was unmistakable. “See what happens.”

You whimpered part protest, mostly needy grinding down instinctively against the thick bulge pressing between your thighs. Toji chuckled, one hand snaking up to tangle in your hair, the other palming your ass roughly.

"Miss me that bad, huh? So bad you're actin' up like this?"

Your body moved on its own before your mind could catch up, hips rolling forward, chasing that maddening friction he kept just out of reach.

God, he was unfair. Why was he making you do all the work?

He is the man here, isn't he? He should've been the one taking care of you. He should've been the one apologizing, pampering you, practically begging for your forgiveness. After all, he was the one who'd screwed up. You were supposed to have the upper hand here.

So then why...

Why did you fold so easily the second you saw him? Why was it that one rough word from him was enough to make your stomach flip? Why did the sting of his hand and the firm grab on your ass make every bit of stubbornness you'd spent hours holding onto disappear?

It was ridiculous. You'd promised yourself you wouldn't give in this time. That you'd make him work for it. And look at you now, so desperate for his attention. How the tables have turned.

“You said you’d be home,” you breathed against the warm skin of his neck, the words coming out smaller and more fragile than you wanted.

“And now I am,” Toji murmured, the sound vibrating through his chest. He pressed a slow kiss right beneath your ear, then sank his teeth in just enough to sting, marking you like he had every right to.

A whimper slipped out before you could stop it. You ground against him shamelessly now, the thin fabric of your panties soaked and clinging. Toji groaned, deep and rough, his fingers digging into the softness of your hips.

“You gonna say sorry for bein’ a little brat?” he rasped, dragging you harder along the thick bulge of his cock, letting you feel exactly what you’d done to him.

You shook your head, defiant even as frustration burned through you. The moment you did, he stopped moving entirely. The sudden lack of pressure pulled another whine from your throat.

“Guess I’ll have to fuck that attitude outta you, then.”

The words had barely left his mouth before he flipped you with ridiculous ease, your back hitting the couch cushions. Your legs fell open instantly, welcoming your dearest husband to devour you, and there he was, kneeling between them, that wicked smirk promising all kinds of sweet, filthy punishment.

You swallowed hard, heart hammering, knowing you were in for it… and not minding one bit.

to be continued in the next part

"Mr. Sukuna, thank you so much for one year." You say with a smile, holding your hand out, but he pulls you in.

"No need to be so formal, now." He hugs you right in front of Satoru, his hands pressing against your back, and you don't see it, but he's smirking right at Satoru, as Satoru is scowling back. "And this is your boyfriend, huh?"

"Y-yes!" You clear your throat, stepping back to stare at your furious, handsome boyfriend, who's about to kill your boss now. You tug on his stiff arm. "Satoru Gojo, say hi."

"Hi." He speaks through his teeth, Sukuna chuckles.

"A man of few words. Well, do you care for a dance-"

"She's not feeling so great, think she needs some air."

"What now-ah!" Satoru's dragging you out of the banquet room, where some coworkers are dancing to jazzy music. "Just where are we going-"

Satoru has you in this stupidly fancy bathroom now, pressing you against the door, turning you and lifting up your skirt. You cry out softly as he starts kissing your neck, your shoulders, his teeth sinking into delicate skin. "You are mine, say it."

"Of course I'm yours... Satoru are you jealous!?" He scoffs, now your dress is up over your hips, the cool air of the bathroom breezing against overheated skin, you're wearing tights but he rips them, he fucking rips them.

"Not jealous, no, just need to fill my pretty girl up with me." He sinks two long fingers in your eager cunt, your head falls back against him, gasping now. "Fill you up so you're dripping my cum when he comes near you."

"Y-you- f-fuck!" You're whining now when Satoru turns you, pressing your back against the door now, your pretty black dress is shoved and scrunched as he kisses you, hot, messy and desperate. It's so insane you can't even get a breath, when your hands fumble with his belt of his slacks, watching his length spring out, already drooling with precum.

His eyes are so dilated they're damn near black, just a ring of blue, his fingers back to pumping and curling in your cunt, breath against your lips, sweet like wine. "Say you're mine baby."

"M'yours Toru- ah!" He picks you up like you're nothing now, you cling to his jacket, fingertips pressing against his shoulders, crying out weakly when his pink tip presses on your swollen little clit. "Here!? Are you crazy?!"

"Crazy for you, gonna knock you the fuck up here and now." You gasp when he sinks his full length inside your soppy pussy, you're drooling down his lenth as he slams your head against the heavy wooden door, stretching and filling you so good you can't fucking think.

"Mine, mine, mine." He mutters, his eyes fucking insane, lips parted, sinking deeper and deeper into you, until you're shattering, so close when his curved tip drags on your spot. "Gonna cum for me aren't you baby?"

You just nod, letting him fuck into you harder, his lips slam on yours, his big hands pressing into your hips, his lips do nothing to muffle the cries however. He's abusing your cervix, whispering nonsense, psychotic, needy, insane nonsense, that just makes you that much closer.

"Gonna cum f'me, huh baby?" You whine, and he chuckles, breath against your ear as he fucks you deeper and harder. "That's it, lemme feel you, you can do it."

You cover your mouth with a hand, screaming out, head whacking the door so hard it hurts, but the orgasm rocking your body eliminates it all. You're pulsing aroung Satoru's veiny cock, and he groans now, biting your neck again, a hand slipping up to your breast, squishing it in his huge grip as he starts pumping hot cum in you.

"Fill you s'fuckin... full you..." He whimpers in your ear as his hot sticky white cum coats your walls, you're trembling, sweaty and fucking destroyed as it brings you again, now he keeps pumping, the squishing lewd and insane in the big fancy bathroom. "Oh my god... baby..."

"You're fucking crazy, I swear I c-can't bring you anywhere." You huff now, as he eases you down, cupping your face gently like he didn't just rip your tights and fuck you on a bathroom door.

"I'm sorry baby I lost it." He pouts now all cute, blinking snowy lashes at you. "You're too sexy I'm sorry."

You sigh now, adjusting your dress, feeling his cum drip down your thighs as you do. "You have nothing to worry about, I love you, crazy ass."

"Promise?" He pouts more, puppy dog eyes melting you.

"I promise. I only want you." He moans, kissing you softly, again and again as he calms, stroking your back gently. "Can you behave for the rest of the party?"

Satoru nods, but he's eyeing the bruise he just gave your neck, the little bit of wrinkle to your dress, your kissed off red lips, smirking now. You head back to the dinner, and when Sukuna talks to you again, Satoru knows that his cum is dripping from your bare cunt, with nothing to stop it from sticking to your thighs, giving him much more comfort.

You look at him with a curious little smile, your perfect hair is just a little messy, he brushes it back when he sits down for dinner with you, and another co worker, Nanami is eyeing you, smiling. Satoru decides to push his cum back in your pussy right under the thick white table cloth, enjoying how you struggle to maintain normal small talk, while you're drooling down his fingertips.

"Satoru I will never take you anywhere again." You hiss in his ear as you all walk out that night, waiting on the Valet to get Satoru's car, you're wearing his suit jacket and trembling in the chilled night, cunt throbbing.

"Merry Christmas?" He teases, a giant grin, but you're scowling, he will have to fix that tonight.

It’s not like you expected a paying gig right out the gate when you moved to the big city to chase your dream of becoming a musician, but you at least figured you would be able to get something that pays in the meantime.

At this point, every rejection is a shot straight to the heart.

You applied to every store you could find with a hiring ad. Both online and in-person, skipping over the occasional store that you felt you weren’t cut out for. Now, it’s come to the point where you don’t have the luxury to be picky.

Still, the shoe store that wouldn’t hire you? At least you have shoes, even if they’re worn-in Vans and Converse for the most part.

The reception job at the law firm? It’s not like you have a degree or can cite any, but you know general laws.

This? You sigh as your gaze traces the letters across the failing light box, deep red letters spelling out Adult Boutique.

It’s not that you have anything against it.

It’s that you’ve never used a sex toy.

Hell, you don’t know the first thing about them.

You’ve never even had sex before.

Sighing, you throw your head back against the headrest of your old rusting sedan and take a moment to breathe in the harsh disappointment of chasing your dreams. Your hands settle in your lap as you set aside any reservations you have, snatching your resumé from the passenger’s seat and shutting the door behind you. You walk with as much confidence as you can muster into the shop, but it’s almost humiliating how far out of your wheelhouse you are when you’re met with the interior. For as confident as you are, it drains from you in an instant.

Humiliation is a kink though, right?

“ID?” You pause in the doorway before you can get much of a look at the store, staring at a man with piercing blue eyes and white hair. He’s handsome, maybe a year younger than you, and his friendly smile is horribly infectious.

You stand like a deer in the headlights, your lips caught in an embarrassing ‘o’ before your mind catches up. ID. You’re in an age-restricted store. Right.

“Shoot–” Your hands fly down to your pockets, reaching for the wallet…

… That you left in the car.

Your jaw hangs ajar at the realization, warmth climbing from the back of your neck to the tips of your ears as the handsome clerk’s startlingly blue eyes pin you in place.

You shut your eyes, biting down on your lower lip. “I’ll be right back.”

In the midst of your walk of shame back to your car across the street, every thought reminds you that you could just leave. You could forget this ever happened and simply accept you aren’t getting the job. The fact that your wallet is so empty that you left it in your unlocked car in a shady part of town serves as a reminder that, again, you don’t exactly have the luxury of being picky.

With a forlorn sigh and a drag of your hands down your face, you put on your best confident smile and make your way back inside. The clerk grins as you hand over your ID, leaning over the counter on forearms that you swear you’re not staring at.

They’re just veiny.

And incredibly hot.

“Sorry,” you sigh as you pocket your ID again.

“Don’t worry about it,” there’s a small wave of his hand to brush you off, and when you look up to meet his eyes, there’s a particularly sultry look to his gaze. It’s enough to warm your cheeks again, and you can only pray he doesn’t notice how much you’ve been staring. “Looking for anything in particular?” He bears a lopsided tilt to his grin that sets your nerves further alight as your stomach ties in knots under the handsome stranger’s gaze.

It’s gotta be a bad combination to be clueless on everything around you and thinking about the hot man in front of you rather than the job you’re applying for.

Shaking your head to center yourself, you put on your best smile. “Yeah, actually.” The man’s expression changes to intrigue as you hand over your resumé. His eyes skim it, brows raising.

He gives you a once-over, setting the paper down with a more genuine grin. “We could use the help,” he admits. “The owner’ll be in tomorrow morning, I’ll have her give you a call.”

That’s the most positive response you’ve received to an application thus far. Although you find yourself nervously eyeing a bottle of G-Spot Stimulating Gel on the counter that you don’t know the first thing about, you’re honestly relieved that things could be looking up. You can handle this job with a bit of research, surely.

“That would be great,” you offer a smile. “Thank you.”

–

So, the good news is that you have a job. The bad news is that you still don’t know the first thing about what you’re selling. Admittedly, you probably should have done some research or looked over the product offerings on the store’s site, but somewhere between preparation for a new job and trying to sleep through the train shaking your apartment every few minutes, you forgot.

The kind woman who interviewed you over the phone and the store’s owner– Jillian– greets you at the door as you push into the store. Her graying hair is curled tightly at her roots, her eyes wrinkled at the corner and kind. She wears a pale pink wool sweater that compliments her lip gloss, standing at about the same height as you. She’s old enough to retire and still gorgeous all-the-same.

“Welcome, dear,” she smiles brilliantly at the sight of you, ushering you towards the front counter with a hand on your shoulder. “I appreciate the help, it’ll be nice to step back from the counter and keep my job behind-the-scenes.”

“I’m happy to help,” you reply with a kind grin, keeping up your best customer service attitude. As she leads you behind the counter, your eyes flick to the two tall men standing behind the counter. You recognize the first as the hot white-haired man who accepted your resumé. Cheery, charming, and strikingly handsome with toned muscles visible from under his white t-shirt.

The man beside doesn’t bear the same welcoming nature. In fact, they’re the definition of polar opposites.

Standing a couple of inches taller than the one you recognize, he has black hair that must be dyed, pink roots standing out like a rose among thorns. His ears are pierced in a multitude of ways with matching brow and lip piercings and tattoos that travel up the back of his neck, reaching his jaw. He’s in far darker and more casual clothes, arms crossed over his broad and built chest with his hip leaned on the counter, and a look of mild disinterest that does no favors for your nerves.

Where the white-haired man bears a friendly smile and a button-up that makes him look ready for a job in a cubicle, his black-haired colleague is very clearly assessing your every move, and looks like he could be on-stage at a dingy bar.

She introduces you to the men, earning a grin from the one you recognize and… nothing from the man with black-dyed hair.

“I’ll be in every couple of days to do the cash deposit,” she explains. “I’ll also drop by to check on the office and put together paperwork, but Satoru–” she points to the white-haired man who casually salutes in greeting, “and Ryomen–” her hand waves towards the frowning man who doesn’t react save for a glance at the older woman, “will train you. Satoru usually does the opening shift and Ryomen does the closing shift. We’re closed Mondays and Tuesdays, but you’ll work the rest of the week.” You’re grateful for the consistency, if nothing else. “You’ll take the midday Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, you’ll be alone for a bit while the boys are in classes, and you’ll take the closing shifts on weekends to help Ryomen during busy hours.”

His gaze, a crimson so striking you have half a mind to wonder if they’re contacts, flicks to you, indiscernible, then back to Jillian.

“You won’t be alone while you train of course though, the boys and I will cover until you’re comfortable being alone.” She pats you once on the shoulder. “Does that work for you, dear?”

“Not a problem at all,” you nod. You clasp your hands together politely.

“Perfect!” She claps once in glee, clearly happy to step away from serving customers. You can understand that sentiment. “I’ll grab your paperwork.”

Satoru’s gaze follows her as she heads for the back room, then turns cheerily to you. “Hey, newbie!” He steps forward from the counter, outstretching his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Shaking his hand, you match his grin. “Well, by name anyway.”

You turn your expectations to Ryomen, who doesn’t move from the spot he’s standing in. His weight shifts to the other hip, still leaning against the counter when he juts his chin out in less of a greeting and more of an acknowledgement. “Hey.”

“Nice to meet you, Ryomen.” You give him a little wave.

“Sukuna,” he corrects you. His words aren’t sharp per se, but they carry a blunt edge. “Only the old lady can call me Ryomen.” His voice is as gruff as his style and stature, fitting of the brutish impression he gives off. His slightly narrowed eyes give off the notion that he’s evaluating you. Reading you.

With a tight-lipped smile, Satoru scratches at the back of his head. He shoots you an apologetic glance as you uncomfortably gather that this isn’t unusual for Sukuna.

“Got it, sorry.” You offer an apologetic smile, which he accepts with a nod.

Satoru steps forward to save you from the interaction, motioning with his head out to the store’s floor. “Why don’t I show you around?”

You nod gratefully, letting him lead you away from the counter. Sukuna’s gaze is quick to drop to the counter as he leans over a book of some sort, his chin resting atop his hand. You turn your attention back to Satoru as he leads you through the long back area of the store

A colorful assortment of dildos and vibrators line the walls of the first aisle, anything from glass to silicone in different shapes and size varieties. The light in the far corner flickers when you step into the aisle, faux wood creaking under-foot. The store has that sort of old strip mall feel where, although well-maintained, its age is evident in the old fixtures and failing lights.

“Sorry about him,” Satoru’s voice is a near-whisper as he shakes his head. His hair falls in front of those striking blue eyes as he leads the way down each aisle. You’re not sure you’d really call it showing you around, but you’re certainly walking the floor. “He’s uhhh–” he waves his hand through the air as he searches for the right term. “Moody, or something.” He chuckles. “I don’t know, you get used to it. Don’t take it personally.”

“He doesn’t seem like a customer service person,” you admit sheepishly, keeping your voice down.

Satoru does no favors keeping his own down as he barks a laugh. “No, not really, hey? He’s Jillian’s friend’s son, so–” he shrugs as you mentally connect the dots that landed him this job. “It’s an easy enough gig and honestly business is slow.”

“That’s a shame,” you offer, mostly for Jillian’s sake, although you don’t mind it being slow.

“I said it was slow, not bad,” he grins, eyes narrowing to that sultry gaze he shot you when you dropped off your resumé last week. “We have a lot of regulars. People who spend a lot. You’ll recognize them in time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’ll be nice to have some company for the end of my shifts,” he adds, tilting his head to eye you. He crosses his arms over his chest, catching your attention as you glance at his muscles just long enough to consider yourself caught. He takes the opportunity and swings with it. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” His voice drops a tone, the flirty lilt warming the tips of your ears.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to get to know you too.”

Jillian returns with paperwork before Satoru can take the opportunity to flirt any further– but you get the feeling he will. It seems to go hand-in-hand with his personality. Once everything is signed and Satoru has headed off for class, Jillian leaves training in Sukuna’s hands as she retreats to the back to file your paperwork.

Sukuna’s gaze is a slow drag down your form as he evaluates the dark blouse and nice jeans you chose to wear. Admittedly, you now feel a little overdressed given his relative comfort and ripped jeans, but in spite of the judgement clear as day in his eyes, he keeps it to himself. At least, as long as you don’t count the frown he bears. You can’t really tell if that’s meant for you or if that’s his neutral expression.

With a sigh, he shuts whatever book is on the counter behind him and gives you a rundown in short, clipped sentences. “Floor work first, cash after. You worked cash before?”

You nod, though the register looks fairly old here.

He gives a hum of approval. “Good. The floor's pretty self-explanatory. Everything is ordered by brand, then color. Shipments Mondays and Thursdays. Back room for any overstock.” He points over his shoulder to where Jillian disappeared as he lays out instructions like facts. “No clock system. Just work when you work. Pay is every second Friday. You’ll get a check.”

Again, you nod.

His gaze travels the length of your figure, but it doesn’t feel as though he’s checking you out. It’s an evaluation. And you’re pretty sure you’re failing before you’ve had the chance to start. “I don’t care what you do when customers aren’t around. Study, read, go on your phone. I don’t give a shit.”

“Oh, okay. That’s kinda nice.”

His tone is apathetic as he hums in agreement. “I didn’t have time last night and I know Satoru’s lazy ass didn’t clean this morning, so I’ll get you to organize the shibari while I put some shit away.”

You nod, slipping away from the counter onto the floor. His gaze tracks you as you very unconfidently thread through the rows in search of shibari. To your horror, nothing is well-labeled, which means there isn’t a distinct section with some big flashy sign to point you in the direction of a kink you don’t know the name of.

“It’s at the back,” Sukuna’s low voice calls out. Biting down on your lip, you move towards the back of the store, your gaze trailing along the wall. There are a number of bondage devices you can’t name, ropes that you assume go with bondage, and chains and whips that all feel bondage-adjacent.

So, more or less, you’re still at a loss.

Really failing that evaluation now.

Behind you, Sukuna is replacing products that were atop the counter at the front, but his movements stop when he fixes you with his narrowed gaze. “The ropes,” he points them out on the wall with displeasure prickling around the edge of his sandpaper-scraped voice. Now that you look at them, it feels obvious given how out of order they are.

“I know!” Heat flares beneath your skin in all the wrong places. Still, you won’t let him get to you. “I was just looking.”

He doesn’t reply, his crimson gaze boring into your expression so hard that you’re pretty sure he can see right through you.

At least you can’t fuck up the organization of the ropes.

Quietly sucking in a breath, you turn to the wall, pulling down the plastic-covered rope bundles that are out of place.

“So,” you turn your gaze over your shoulder. “You’re in school?”

“Mhm.”

“What are you taking?”

“Business.”

He’s difficult, too. Great.

Once the ropes are in a more sound order, you spin on your heel to face him. He’s already turning away, moving to a different area to put away a vibrator.

“Can I–”

“Here.” He tosses a bottle of lube at you, caught clumsily in unexpecting fingers. “Put that away, too.”

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you nod, more to yourself than him. At least you know what lube is.

You search the store for the spot where it belongs, twisting it on the shelf so the label faces out, then make your way to the counter where Sukuna’s already standing over his book again. Before you have the opportunity to speak, the bell over the door rings as a customer walks through the door. She’s around your age, and quickly flashes ID towards Sukuna, who nods.

A regular, you suppose.

The tattooed clerk’s eyes trail to you, jutting his chin out expectantly towards the customer.

Making your way up to the woman with cute blonde hair cut short, you fall into your customer service voice. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Hi!” She beams at you, her smile putting your first day nerves at ease. “Thank you, but I know where most things are,” she waves you off politely. “I appreciate it, though!” She moves past you towards the back of the store, whirling around suddenly as her gaze shifts between you and Sukuna. “Oh, actually, did you get any more of the cherry stimulants in?”

You turn your attention to Sukuna, who fixes you with a lazy unsure expression. “She can check for you.” He leans his hip on the counter again, arms crossed over his chest as he faces you. “It’ll be in the back. They come in a box with a cherry logo on them.”

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you nod as you make your way to the back.

Truthfully, the cramped room is a bit of a relief from the uncomfortable tension Sukuna just seems to naturally exude. Him and Satoru are big personalities in the most opposite way you can possibly imagine, but at least Satoru is willing to chat.

Jillian glances over her shoulder from an old computer at the back of the room. “Everything going well, dear?”

“Yeah,” you grin, though truthfully this already feels like a disaster where you’re being scornfully judged by your colleague and accidentally making enemies on day one. With one of the only people you work with. So that’s great. “There’s just someone looking for stimulants.”

She shifts in her chair, doing a once-over of the boxes. “Not back here. There’s an inventory list on this computer that you can usually use, but I don’t want to lose progress on your files. Can you ask Ryomen to check the holds drawer? Satoru might have put some on hold if he knew they were looking.”

“Sure, thank you!”

With a grateful smile, you head back to the front and relay the information to Sukuna.

“Holds drawer’s there.” He points to a handle on the lower inside of the counter. Within are a number of boxes and small sachet packs. “Mm, there they are.”

Clearly one of the sachet packs is what she’s looking for. Unfortunately, they all fail to say exactly what they are on the front with bright and bold brands rather than descriptors or even a damn cherry logo, which means you haven’t the faintest clue what you’re looking at.

“The orange one,” Sukuna adds when you’re still paused staring at the drawer. There’s an unimpressed lilt to his tone that has you wincing before you pull the sachet pack from the drawer. You do what you can to keep your expression neutral and feign confidence when you stand upright again.

The whole situation is tense and embarrassing. It might at least be tolerable with Satoru, but Sukuna either enjoys your suffering or he’s an asshole.

The unfortunate third possible option is both.

His grimace as you set the pack in his hand isn’t lost on you, although you choose to head towards the register in hopes that he can at least teach you how it works and you can get on with this day. He chooses not to say a word to you as the customer finishes looking around, returning to the front with a rose-shaped vibrator.

“Ooh, thank you!” She grins as she spots the packet at the register.

Sukuna nods, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re paying attention. “Just type the amounts into the register,” he explains, putting both prices from the stickers into the old machine. Once he hits the equals button, the cash drawer pops open as he gets the total and it calculates tax for him. The customer flashes a card, so Sukuna shuts the drawer and types the amount into the machine to his right. “While she pays, get the serials on each tag and write them here,” he explains, pulling the number from each barcode and writing them on a pad of paper left of the register. Once her payment is processed, a receipt prints, which he hands to her, keeping the second copy under the till. Finally, he bags the items.

She thanks him, giving you a polite little wave and retreating out the door.

You let out a breath, nodding. “The register seems easy enough,” you try more friendly commentary in spite of his half-assed teaching, but you suppose by now you shouldn’t expect Sukuna to be receptive. He hums, a judgemental flash in his eyes as he pins you in place with a narrowed gaze like he can see something you can’t.

He works his jaw in a slow grind of teeth like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, dropping your gaze. “I’ve got to study. There’s not much else to the job besides that, so keep yourself busy.”

Thankfully the rest of the day passes without much of a hitch and you’re able to leave as evening hits, with Sukuna staying to close the store.

He doesn’t give you another word for the remainder of the day. He doesn’t expect you to handle customers. He handles the till. He doesn’t even look at you as you let him know your shift is over. You aren’t sure whether to be grateful or dread the rest of your shifts with him, but thankfully you’re able to spend more time with Satoru tomorrow.

Given that you’re off a couple of hours before close, you use the opportunity to stake out local bars with stages and take note of a small pub tucked away in a little corner. The outside has a sign that doesn’t light up in the night’s cover, but within it’s rather warm, with string lights hung over a stage in the back. While you work on your online presence, it’s the perfect spot to get your stage skills up.

The thick metal of the door is cool on your hand, creaking on its hinge as you press through to the interior warmth. There’s a small two-man group on-stage performing low-energy grunge that seem to be garnering decent attention from onlookers and groups you would be willing to bet are regulars based on the way they move around the small scene.

Adjusting your jacket over your shoulder, you make your way to the bar. The bartender looks to be a couple of years senior to you, with short brown hair kept neat aside from a couple of stray strands that fall over his forehead. He has a prominent nose and sunken eyes that give him an overall air of tiredness.

The apron he wears over a clean-cut button-up pulls taut across his chest as he reaches overhead to set a bottle of whiskey along the back wall before turning his attention to you with a polite smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, um, actually,” you begin with a polite smile, “I was wondering who I need to impress to be up there.” You point to the grunge band at the back as his gaze follows you.

He hums, his calm demeanor shifting from the routine of bartending to something more friendly. “I can give you the owner’s email. If you fit in with the crowd, he’ll work with your schedule.”

Casting another glance at the two men on-stage, you nod, chewing on your lip in an effort to hide your giddy smile. “That’d be great. So… what– a little moody, kind of chill? Maybe some minor chords in there?”

The bartender chuckles, picking up a glass like routine simply fills his subconscious. “Sounds to me like you’ve already got the gig.”

Leaving behind the smell of drowned sorrows and shared laughter, you can hold onto the fact that while your day took a turn for the worst, it’s just a job. Once you leave the building, you don’t have to think about it and can focus on music. Sukuna isn’t the end of the world and if you can manage to stay out of his hair, surely you can find some sort of common ground with him.

–

Wind whips too fast across the street when you lock your car behind you. Your unzipped coat flails in the wind, leaving you with a flustered expression as the shop door slams shut behind you.

“Hey newbie,” Satoru greets you with an amused grin. You flash him a smile as you smooth down your outfit, far more casual than the previous one with jeans and a band shirt. “How was yesterday?” He asks, wiping down the counter and tossing the wipe in a garbage as he claps his hands together to brush them off.

The chuckle that parts your lips is half-hearted as you drop your laptop bag atop the front counter. “Kind of a disaster?” You wince, shaking your head. “Is he seriously always like that?”

Satoru stands upright, running a hand through white locks. “He gets better when you get to know him, but yeah he’s kind of an asshole,” he laughs brightly, unbothered. “I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips.”

“Sure, if the chips are sour,” you mutter.

Satoru snickers, nodding. “What happened anyway?”

“I didn’t immediately know where everything is without being shown,” you wave a hand through the air, letting it hang there for a moment in disbelief.

Satoru, unphased, grins. “Oh, yeah. Sounds like a classic case of not running on Sukuna’s schedule. You should really get on that.”

You throw your head back with a sigh, giving a dismissive wave of your hands. “Whatever, it’s a new day, right? Maybe it won’t be so bad today.”

Satoru teasingly sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Sorry newbie, but my sources are telling me today’s weather is looking cloudy in Sukuna-land.”

Satoru’s unseriousness helps settle a modicum of your nerves as you find yourself laughing at his charm.

“But hey, you’ve got me for a couple of hours first.” He grins, settling the balls of his palms atop the counter as he leans his weight back. One of his sleeves, rolled to the elbow, slides down his forearm to his wrist. “What did he go over with you, anyway?”

You laugh loosely. “Like, nothing. He gave me a thirty second run-down of the till and told me I don’t need to clock in or out.”

“That’s gold,” Satoru shakes his head in an effort to get hair from falling into his line of sight. “I thought he’d be nicer to a pretty girl like you.” His face lights up as you avert your eyes, smiling at the scuffed floor underfoot. He keeps the conversation flowing like it’s second nature. “Tell you what, I’ll actually try to show you around before he gets here, and you can tell me what brought you to the city.”

Recovering quickly, you fix him with a humbled expression at the callout. “Is it that obvious that I’m not from here?”

Satoru barks a laugh. “Yeah. You’ve got small town energy.”

“Small town energy? What does that even mean?” You follow him out from behind the counter as he leads the way to the back room first.

“Just vibes,” he shrugs. “It’s good. Cute,” he grins. You get the feeling he’s a bit of a flirt through and through, but truthfully you enjoy the attention.

Plus, he’s hot.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a bashful smile, chewing on your lip. “I uh– I wanted to give my dream a shot before tying myself down in a career I hate.”

His eyes light up as he turns to you with a palm on the door handle for the back room. “Oh yeah? What’s your dream?”

“Singing. Music,” you admit, feeling just shy enough that you avert your gaze in spite of your giddiness.

“No way.” He’s grinning widely now, his hand leaving the door handle as he chooses to lean against it instead, arms crossed tantalizingly over his chest. “I feel like I’m obligated to be the annoying guy who asks you to sing for me now.”

You laugh heartily. “At least you know it would make you that guy.”

With a chuckle, he finally turns around to lead the way into the back room. He peppers actual explanations of the job’s inner workings between personal questions.

After explaining the inventory system on the back computer and how boxes are organized, he leads the way back through the aisles, pointing out different sections as you walk. “So, do you take gigs between shifts?”

“When I can,” you nod. “I’m trying to put together the money to get some studio time soon. I have some self-recorded stuff, but I don’t think I’m much of a producer.”

“Will you at least tell me what genre?”

“Um,” you shrug thoughtfully, “I guess like punk or indie rock?”

“Oooh, so you’re a moody guitar girl. I like it, I like it.” He nods his approval with a wide grin. The faintest of dimples forms at the corners of his lips, giving him a charmingly boyish smile.

Your genuine shared laughter sends flutters to the pit of your stomach, warm and welcome, as you finish threading through aisles and head back to the front counter. Satoru pushes up on forearms that flex under his weight as he settles atop the counter. You follow suit on the opposite counter, head tilting as you inquire about him.

“Jillian mentioned you’re in school, what are you taking?”

“Business,” he replies with a lopsided smile.

“Oh, like Sukuna?”

“Damn, you got an answer out of him?” Satoru chuckles. “Yeah, he’s a year ahead of me but we’re in the same program. I think he wants to do the whole company startup thing though, I’m looking to kinda take over for Jillian and eventually buy this place if things work out. She’s holding out until I finish.”

Your brow raises as you fix him with an inquisitive look. “You wanna take over here?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he chides, gaze lidded with an almost-cocky attitude. “Don’t get me wrong, I know it doesn’t seem busy even with online orders, but I actually think there’s a huge untapped market here.” He straightens and you can see the passion and drive gleaming in his eager gaze. “I think the way sex toys are sold both online and in-stores is outdated and makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable and I want to try to do something new to help people feel more comfortable and open in terms of sex.”

You blink, nodding at the insightful way that he goes on to explain the ins and outs of his opinion on the industry and how, although he loves Jillian, he can see a lot of ways to use his knowledge to improve the business and hopes to change the way kinks are viewed.

It’s not like it hasn’t occurred to you just how inexperienced you are, but as you nod along to his passionate explanation, it occurs to you just how experienced he is. He doesn’t say it outright, but he talks about the way condoms are made and how bad they can be for some people, how he hopes to bring in products for people who struggle with medication killing their sex drive, and even the intricacies of what products work well and which don’t and how he would love to stop stocking them altogether.

It shouldn’t come as a shock– it doesn’t– after all, he’s hot and flirty, but it certainly gives the butterflies in your stomach an edge that you aren’t sure what to make of. It’s not uncomfortable– Satoru’s still kind and has a welcoming personality– it’s closer to inadequacy. Like you should know more, and not just for job purposes. It doesn’t sit well.

But you shouldn’t be thinking about your coworker like that anyway, right?

Thankfully, before you can think too hard about the subject, Sukuna walks through the door with a heavy step to his boots.

Maybe ‘thankfully’ doesn’t suit his arrival, though. His gaze flits briefly between each of you before he heads straight to the back, giving you both a noncommittal wave as you greet him.

When the door shuts behind the brute, Satoru turns to you. He grimaces, faux empathy shining in cerulean seas. “The weather report was right.”

The day passes so quickly with Satoru even without a single customer entering the store that the rest of the day feels like a slog without him. Or maybe it just feels like a slog because Sukuna makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you. He even stayed in the back until Satoru had to leave in spite of the changes in their regular schedules just to train you.

He’s not even that unfriendly with Satoru either from what the kinder of the two told you. He tried to reason that your tattooed co-worker simply isn’t fond of new people, but you’re pretty sure your inexperience grates on his nerves.

And unfortunately, every little slip up seems to tack on. Your shifts with Satoru are a breeze that leaves you grinning bashfully over your new crush while your shifts with Sukuna have you questioning every life choice you’ve ever made.

Your first weekend closing shift with Sukuna, you’re pretty sure you confirm your suspicions that he simply doesn’t like you.

The bell rings overhead as a tall man with dark hair walks through the door. You greet him and offer a hand, but his gait is purposeful as he heads into the back after flashing ID. Passing the time by fiddling with a pen as Sukuna stares blankly at the door with a hand lazily strewn over his textbook page, your gaze lifts when the man returns.

“Excuse me. Do you know the difference between this–” he shows you a bullet vibrator, “and this?” He holds up a hitachi wand next, “aside from size?”

Your jaw hangs open stupidly as you try to formulate a response but find yourself at a loss when size seems like the reasonable answer. Feeling your face flush, you glance sidelong at the business major.

If looks could kill.

The worst part? It’s not even glare.

It’s the most unfiltered and raw disappointment you’ve ever seen.

He huffs, pushing up from the counter. “The bullet is discreet but weak. It takes batteries and they usually only last for five hours overall. It’s still a good amount of use, but they might be watch batteries, which can be a pain.” He shoots you a pointed stare that makes you wonder if you would rather have just embarrassed yourself in front of Satoru in spite of your crush. “The wand is rechargeable, way stronger, lasts about fifteen hours, and has a lot more vibration modes,” he explains confidently.

The man nods, setting the bullet aside as he brings the wand to the counter. Over the course of the past few days, Sukuna’s taken most of the floor-related duties away from you in spite of the fact that you have tried to do some research and are getting to know the sections and general genres of toys. That question simply didn’t come up. Yet for all of the times he’s made a motion for you to take over cash, he doesn’t even offer it this time.

You get the feeling this goes beyond his usual irritation.

You can practically feel it radiating off of him in waves of negative energy.

The moment the customer walks out the door, Sukuna’s palm splays across the counter as he turns with frustrating evenness to face you. Somehow his ability to keep his actions level while being visibly affronted is worse than if he would have just yelled.

“Do you think you’re cute for making my job harder or did you just apply for the wrong fucking job?”

Okay. Fuck this guy.

“You can’t be serious right now.”

He lifts his hands in a loose shrug. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He replies, dry and even with venomous fangs.

You scoff, but relent nonetheless given that he is close to the store’s owner and you can not afford to lose this job.

Literally.

You can’t call a scoop of peanut butter dinner again.

“Look, I’m sorry, this is just–” you hesitate, your mind muddled as you search for an explanation. Sighing in exasperation, you throw your hands up, letting them fall to your sides with a plop against your jeans. You settle on the truth before you take too long to reply. “Sex toys are new to me.”

His jaw ticks as he leans his hip back against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. Somehow, he makes Satoru look small– not thin or short, but small– given how much bulkier he is. He’s hot too, but his personality stands as a bit of a wall between you. His jaw works, eyes narrowed as he takes in your words.

At last, he chuckles. Dry and devoid of any amusement. “Why the fuck did you apply here if you don’t know anything about the shit we sell?”

“Because I need a job?” You reply incredulously.

He huffs a sigh. “Just my fucking luck.” He turns back to the register, haphazardly tossing the receipt into a small bin under the counter before he grabs the bullet vibrator and heads out onto the floor. “Figure that shit out,” he calls sourly without looking back at you. “Watch porn or buy something, I don’t give a shit. Just don’t make my job harder.”

Leaning back against the counter where it meets the wall, you let your head fall back in disbelief.

Asshole.

–

You wish you could say your first month passes seamlessly, but Sukuna makes the seams painfully obvious.

With Satoru, they’re subtle but you still feel them.

They both present separate problems.

Sukuna is an outright asshole and you want to get things right if only to not hear his virulent voice. The silence is somehow better.

Satoru is kind, open, and caring, but leagues ahead of you in experience and you have a massive crush. There aren’t enough customers in the morning to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you do find yourself wanting to impress him and against your better judgement, you’re pretty sure you’ve given him the impression you know what you’re doing from what little research you’ve done and what you’ve picked up over the month.

At least you’re trained enough that you get a couple of hours to yourself between Satoru’s departure and Sukuna’s arrival now that their hours aren’t extended in order to train you.

“You gonna be okay on your own?” Satoru asks, shrugging his jacket over his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you brush him off with a smile.

He nudges your arm, unknowingly sending goosebumps in a trail up your skin. “Good. Text me if you need something. Or, I dunno. If you’re bored.”

Your heart does a little flip. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

You watch bashfully as he leaves, offering a little wave. Once he’s out of sight, you lean on your forearms over the counter. With a forlorn sigh, you drop your chin to the vinyl below, staring blankly out the window. Truthfully, it’s nice to have a breather between each man. You need the time to prepare yourself to handle Sukuna.

Your mind’s distraction comes in the form of your phone buzzing a few minutes later.

1:36 PM Satoru || not bored yet? ;)

A distraction to be sure. Whether it’s fortunate or not– yet to be determined.

The door seems to be opening more and more with him these days and as giddy as that makes you, nerves are beginning to show more and more at the seams. It’s foolish really, and you know that, but you find yourself constantly coming back to your lack of experience.

1:37 PM You || Give me like 5 more minutes and then I will be

You can practically hear the laugh he barks, having grown fond of his company.

You’re still casually texting back and forth when Sukuna’s shoulder presses on the door. He moves confidently through the shop, casting a single glance at you before dropping his bag off in the back room.

He’s still a pain in the ass, but Satoru was right that you do get used to it. You’re not sure that you’d call that a win, but at least you’ve come to some sort of silent agreement with him out of sheer necessity.

He didn’t leave you with many options after realizing just how little you know about the industry. When he got in the following day and returned your greeting with a painfully mild ‘don’t bother’, you had to figure out some sort of system that would prevent him from interacting with you altogether if it means his attitude is milder.

That’s how you landed here. He handles the floor and questions, you handle cash. You can tell he hates the arrangement given that he’s not a chatty guy, but at least you aren’t pinned in place by his vile appraisal every time you interact.

He’s civil.

Civil enough.

Most of the time.

For him, anyway.

He’s less judgemental, at least, and when you are able to help on the floor, he tends to leave you be more often than not. It’s like the loosest form of appreciation you can think of.

You’re pretty sure ‘tolerates’ is a fitting word for how he sees you. Like some sort of intrusive insect that sits just out of reach.

When he re-emerges from the back with his coat shrugged off, you’re surprised to see him in a black button-up and slacks, carrying his usual aloof expression as he makes his way to the counter. Admittedly, it’s a good look for him.

It’s unfair that he gets to be hot and an asshole.

“Is there a reason you’re staring?”

Thank god you don’t find him intimidating anymore. He’s a dick. Even to customers from time to time, but you don’t find yourself feeling small under his judgement. Maybe you should, but your ability to quickly bounce back could easily be placed at fault.

Blinking, you avert your gaze. “Sorry. I’m just not used to seeing you so dressed up.”

He examines your expression as though he suspects a lie in your words. “I had a presentation,” he explains, surprisingly open as he offers the explanation willingly.

Holy shit. It’s the first sunny day in the Sukuna forecast.

“What sort of presentation?”

“A marketing pitch.”

“Oh, nice.” You nod, trying to keep the peace. “How’d it go?”

He nods, turning to the counter to open his laptop. “Good. We’re gonna workshop it a bit, but I’m hoping to pitch to investors soon.” There’s pride within the evenness of his voice that has you tilting your head, intrigued to get something genuine from him.

Leaning in, you push to see how much you can get from him. “Like, a startup idea?” You recall Satoru mentioning something of the sort.

His gaze fixes you from over his shoulder. You get the feeling with him that he’s always trying to read you. “Yeah. A platform where people can pitch their businesses to customers within a certain distance without needing social media.”

“Oh,” you blink, mildly surprised. “That’s a really good idea.”

He hums, turning back to his laptop.

“You don’t really strike me as the CEO type, if I’m being honest.”

“I’m not,” he agrees, surprisingly unbothered by the observation. You consider yourself lucky he doesn’t take it as an insult. “I’d be looking for a co-founder to handle the personal, financial, and sales bullshit. I’d run strategy and go-to-market.”

Admittedly, yeah. That suits him. He’s sharp and straightforward, he seems like the type to be more inclined to work on strategy and run everything without the constant need for approval and help from others.

“That sounds more your style. What made you think of the platform idea?”

He doesn’t look back as he replies. “Just seemed like something that would make money.”

You recognize that as Sukuna being polite. He’s shutting you down without a look that makes your skin crawl for once. You suppose it’s as good of a time as any to return to your texts. Your friend from back home has been religiously sending memes during your shifts to get you through the Sukuna days and today is no exception. You laugh at a few of them under your breath.

The day is as uneventful as usual. Sukuna even casts an approving glance in your direction when you correctly answer a customer’s question. He’s not so bad when he isn’t glaring every couple of minutes.

You pray the weather stays sunny in Sukunaland.

Shutting the register as a customer leaves, you turn back inside the store to find Sukuna back to work, hunched over his textbook and regurgitating the information into notes. You opt not to bother him, turning your attention instead to a flickering bulb in the back of the floor. Much like both men have chosen not to mention or fix it, you have too.

Turning your attention back to your phone, you cast a smile at your latest text from Satoru.

5:49 PM Satoru || how’s the pretty newbie handling our favorite co-worker??

5:53 PM You || The weather's looking surprisingly sunny today!!

5:54 PM Satoru || be on the lookout for rain. the weather can change on a dime

5:54 PM You || I can handle a bit of rain

5:55 PM Satoru || i’ll bet you can ;)

There your stomach goes doing flips again. Your thumbs fiddle with the edges of your phone case, pulling at the plastic as you stare at the message with that horrible mix of nerves and your stomach tying in knots. You get so caught up in your own self-doubt, you don’t realize you’re staring at Sukuna, busy with his own phone.

“What?” He gruffs, retaining that hint of annoyance.

“Hm?” You blink, brought back to the present. Before you, Sukuna is leaning against the counter, phone in-hand as his jaw shifts left and right. His lip ring noticeably catches like he’s fiddling with it. “Oh. Sorry.” With a shake of your head, you stare back down at your screen. Your gaze catches on the winky face. The underlying meaning behind it and his text. The impression you’ve probably given off working at a sex toy boutique.

The goddamn butterflies, though. The same ones causing the wave of self-consciousness that you know is foolish. But fuck is it hard not to feel that way when Satoru is undeniably the kind of guy that has people hanging off his shoulder with little to no effort. Your experience shouldn’t matter, but society has taught you to think otherwise.

“Hey,” you speak up on impulse before your mind can catch up to the move your mouth is already making. You can’t be certain whether it’s bravery or stupidity. “You know a lot about what we sell, right?”

His eyes narrow, minute. Just enough to catch your attention. “Yeah. I’m good at my job.”

The dig at your knowledge has you pressing your lips together. God, he’s frustrating. “Asshole.” His brow raises slightly, like something he once deemed uninteresting or unuseful has caught his attention and he’s appraising the situation to find if you’re deserving of it. “Is there, like… a way to improve without watching porn?” You query, worrying your lip between your teeth.

No longer engrossed in his laptop upon noticing your stare, Sukuna’s gaze bores into you. He doesn’t particularly make you uneasy now like he did when you first started, but it is sharp in spite of the evenness behind it. “I told you. Buy toys.”

You suppose you could have been a bit more specific. “No, I know that. A lot of them need a partner, though.”

He waves his hand in disinterest through the air like you’ve already answered your own question and he’s done entertaining any more. “Find one, then.” He’s already looking away as he replies.

You suck in a breath. “I’m from a small town. I just moved here, I don’t really know anyone.”

Sukuna just stares at you again like he expects you to figure it out yourself. His arms cross over his chest, his hip leaned against the counter. It’s not until the air turns stifling, your words hanging a hair too long as you meet his gaze that he cuts the tension with a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re asking me?” You can’t make heads or tails of his expression when it sits somewhere between disbelief and intrigue. It’s akin to the look you got upon calling him an asshole.

“No! Or– maybe? I don’t know.” The wince you shoot him is humiliating as you try to navigate the stormy seas you’ve set yourself sailing through.

“Why don’t you go ask Satoru?” He queries, pushing a hand back through his black-dyed locks like this question was never meant for him. Still, his tone doesn’t give off the impression that he’s irritated by you, so much as something more curious in nature.

Your gaze averts as your jaw hangs open in a frustrating moment of hesitation. Briefly glancing at the texts sitting in your hand is the only tell Sukuna needs, unfortunately able to read you like a book for some god forsaken reason.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” he chuckles, airy and amused. He pushes up off the counter, taking a step towards you like he’s laying out a challenge. “You don’t give a shit about the job. You’re trying to impress that fucker.” He rakes his tongue over his teeth, standing over you like he owns this damn conversation.

You cross your arms over your chest, fixing him with your own judgement. “You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

He pushes a condescending breath through his nose, smiling with nothing but mockery. “I don’t, but I’m gonna. You two would hit it off.”

Frowning, you opt to not give him the reaction he wants. Your nails dig into the skin of your arm. “I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk as much.”

“Most people do,” he smirks. He steps forward, hands in his pockets as he leans over you. “You still want me to teach you a thing or two, sweetheart?” His tone drips with condescension now that the person he once saw as little more than a pain in his ass has become something he can toy with.

You roll your eyes. You hadn’t expected your quiet co-worker to be this kind of an asshole. Why couldn’t he just say no and move on? Where did all the theatrics come from? “Why are you such a dick?”

“Answer the question,” he deflects, unbothered and painfully egotistical.

You huff, staring at the lemon-shaped vibrator sitting atop the counter that you’ve been contemplating buying for the last hour. “Fine. Yeah, I do.”

He blows a breath through his nose, standing upright again once he’s gotten your admission in his hands. “What’s in it for me?” The way he stands over you, chin tilted, and eyes narrowed, makes you huff.

You hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. Hell, you didn’t expect to even voice your thoughts out loud. You barely even know enough about him to offer him anything. “I took business as a minor,” you suggest. “I could tutor you.”

“Nah, I’m set.”

You shrug, exasperated. Your hands wave uselessly through the air before plopping back down at your sides. “What do you want, then?”

He regards you with a thoughtful expression. “I’ll train you to close. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing, if I ask you to take my shift, you drop whatever you’re doing and take it.”

You shift your jaw to the left, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You expected worse.

“And you don’t tell Jillian or Satoru you took my shift. I keep the money.”

Ah. There’s the ‘worse’ you expected.

Frowning, you give the nerves in the pit of your stomach a moment to settle over making a deal with the devil. You want to say figuratively but you aren’t so sure. “Fine.” You extend your hand, but the man shakes his head, frowning.

“Rules first, then we shake.” He holds up his pointer. “Don’t tell a soul. Not even your friends back home.” Another finger. “No kissing. No making out. No sex.” He holds up a third finger. “This isn’t a little romantic fantasy thing. This isn’t a relationship. Don’t call this shit friends with benefits or fuck buddies, either. We’re not friends. Don’t expect anything cute from me. Got that?”

You don’t bother holding back a scoff. “I wasn’t going to, trust me.”

He smirks, unbothered. “Good.” His hand extends first this time.

For a long moment, you stare. You contemplate your life choices. You debate just ignoring your fears with Satoru and praying you can play the role of having experience. You equally contemplate just telling him you have no experience and that you’re nervous.

But somehow, the way nerves churn your stomach makes the butterflies worse. You want to squash them. You want to impress Satoru.

And you know. You know it’s stupid. You know you shouldn’t have to impress him, but the heart and mind don’t always connect, do they?

Against your better judgement, you clasp hands with him. You go to do the actual motion of a handshake but he keeps your hand in place. When your gaze raises to meet his in a silent question, he’s scrutinizing every little movement in your features.

His expression doesn’t hold the condescension you expect. His gaze is devoid of amusement, fixated on the frown you bear. “You really sure about this?”

You don’t hesitate to nod.

His eyes narrow a sliver. “Well, aren't you full of surprises?” There’s that hint of assholery. “One more rule.” His hand remains unmoving, still clasped with yours as he holds your gaze. “Either of us can shut this down at any time. It still never gets mentioned.”

You nod. “Agreed.”

Finally, he goes through with shaking your hand. “When are you looking to start?”

Your nose wrinkles at the way he makes it sound. “Do you have to say it like it’s a– I don’t know, job or something?”

“Oh, my bad,” he sneers, his grin too proud. “When do you wanna get fucked?”

You shouldn’t have asked.

Pulling your hand away from him, you rub your temples. You’re definitely not about to prod any further, lest he get more vulgar. “I’m free ton–”

“Not tonight,” he interrupts. “I got someone coming over to study.”

Scheduling ahead doesn’t sit right with you either. “Can we just decide during shifts? See how we’re feeling?”

“Whatever suits you,” he shrugs. The mild arrogance to his tone is… another can of worms to unpack, but as your colleague turns back to his studies, you only have one question for yourself.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

main masterlist || series masterlist || next ⪢

౨ৎ a/n ; i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of what will be a VERY kinky series LOLOL. i'm having a lot of fun with these two so far and i hope you are too <3

as a note, i'm trying moving tags to another blog which some of you may have seen due to changes in how tumblr's bot detection system is working, so please bear with me while i figure out how to not get my account flagged while doing taglists 🙃 edit; it's not working. if you weren't tagged, bear with me while i try to figure it out :')

౨ৎ taglist ; OPEN. age must be visible in bio. 18+ only. @gojosoups @yenayaps @m3owr3ow @tohru-tales @crimzie129 @lostgxrlblog @sterzin @scaraamo @sunyomz @norahlolzz @whateverineedsblog @buttclencher28 @blueemochii @pequnopastel @cupidxml @saintdilucc @officiallydrunk @yvannaille @brazzigy @ilovebeansyay @deewrites01 @martianzmars @volleyballgirl2022 @mtchamnsta @astrokenny @ge3ked @ri-sa20 @heichouaack @iluvgetosuguru @winkii @dishs0pe @renoamio @slutty-chronicles @elixoq @bam-boozledx @serinabean @schnunny @yoniknows @k1yomee @14pxa @imrandomstuffsblog @sixeyes0607 @tokyolhtl @ellybell2 @lalilou21 @weiiraru @torusangelface @hastletea @naomikozura @crunchycathy

These were intense times. 

The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed. 

There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft. 

As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses. 

It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk. 

Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones. 

As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf. 

Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field. 

His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table. 

He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer. 

Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls. 

She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself. 

And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts. 

His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded. 

“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”. 

Part one?!

He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20. 

And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name. 

“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”

He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty. 

But in the lecture hall? Well… 

His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II. 

He was truly a lost cause. 

He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never). 

So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago. 

At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast. 

Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you. 

And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter. 

It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.

In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.

“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”

It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.

You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.

He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.

He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him. 

His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter. 

Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”

You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen. 

For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.

What the fuck? 

He took your phone. 

“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”

He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones. 

“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”

He hated how his dick twitched at your words.

But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.

He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake! 

His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”

You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!

And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.   

After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.

He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.

You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday. 

The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission. 

And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill. 

He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.

Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days. 

And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days. 

“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both. 

You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe. 

He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…

“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare. 

“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power. 

You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!

You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache. 

The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?” 

He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly. 

You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips. 

“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you. 

He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag. 

“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”

And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest. 

A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand. 

“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.” 

His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away. 

“It’s a small place,” you warned. 

He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”

He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them. 

You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”

For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world. 

All he could do was swallow and nod. 

He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door. 

The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road. 

Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row. 

The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen. 

Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.

And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.

He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–

He coughed lightly.

What was he thinking?

As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine. 

Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.

It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.

“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table. 

You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down. 

He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room. 

And, holy shit. 

No. 

There was genuinely no way in hell. 

He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it. 

His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body? 

Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.

His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it. 

Everything looked familiar.

Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–

“Can I help you?” 

You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours. 

You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.

And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words. 

All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.

“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

He scoured through every single video and rewatched every single clip that night.

The furniture, the decor, the walls, the window placement: everything was the same.

And so, the verdict was in: you–his quiet, guarded, asocial, and steely chem partner–were none other than stargiirl herself. 

What. The. Fuck. 

It was confusing to wrap his head around, this whole stargiirl-chemgirl business. But would he go as far to say that it wasn’t attractive? That he didn’t pop a boner every time he thought about it? 

No. He couldn’t. He’d never.

Was this divine intervention or his own personal hell? 

He couldn’t tell.

What does this mean? How should he act?  What does he fucking do with this information now?

He rubbed his temples before running a tense hand through his hair. At the same time, a notification popped up on his computer. 

“Check out a new post from stargiirl_xx !”

He could feel the blood in his veins thumping against his skin. 

“Don’t do it. Please don’t fucking do it-” he mumbled. 

He tapped into the link despite himself. 

“Lessons In Vibration Pt II”

He wordlessly clicked the play button on the video. 

For a moment, he thought his screen was buffering. The camera was set up to look out onto your bed, though you were not in frame yet, presumably twiddling with the settings of your camera. 

But when you finally did walk into view, his heart nearly imploded. 

The frame only showed you from the mouth down, your identity mainly concealed. You were bottomless, bare legs walking across the floor as you situated yourself on your bed. The only piece of clothing you did have on was an overlarge sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, one that he, in his panicked daze to get out of your apartment earlier, forgot he had left behind. 

He didn’t dare breathe, nor could he move. His head was craned so close to his computer, as if he wanted to go through the screen itself just to get a better look. 

He noted how his hoodie fell past your ass, large and consuming and honestly? So fuckin’ perfect on you.

You were nearing the end of your normal introduction, and he realized you spoke differently on video, low and confident and sensual and hypnotic.

“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about my content throughout the years,” your hands started to draaag the bottom of his hoodie up, letting it bunch just slightly above the dip of your waist, enunciating your curves. “-And I’ve realized I’ve never had a partner during any of them.”

The comments on the side bar started to flood through, hundreds of viewers already volunteering themselves to be your +1. 

His jaw ticked, hard.

“I think,” you leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. Toji gripped onto his computer until a faint pop! could be heard of one of the inner screws coming loose. “I think I would like to change that in the future,” and then you smiled, really smiled, a full, playful grin wiping across your features in a way he had never been able to see in person before. 

His dick bobbed in his pants. 

This could not be happening to him right now. 

You continued, “but for now, welcome back to my Lessons in Vibrations series.”

He watched as you started introducing the toys you would be using today, before you slowly began to touch yourself, teasingly showing glimpses of the purple lace panties you had on underneath his hoodie. 

And he couldn’t help it, really. 

Because when you started rubbing your vibrator against your clit, your deft fingers plunging skillfully into your cunt, soft whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy started squelching out a fucking melody – all while wearing his fuckin’ sweatshirt – what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

His sweats were already halfway down his thighs, and his meaty hand greedily pumping his own cock in sync to you fucking yourself on your fingers. 

He watched hungrily as you pushed his sweatshirt up further along your body, exposing your stomach, teasing the view of your bare tits. He bit back a groan at the thought of your scent lingering in the fabric, and prayed to whatever deity above that you wouldn’t wash it out before he got it back. 

Below, your fingers languidly teased the head of your vibrator against your entrance. It was the insertable kind, with a slender tip and curved body, the type that had your hole trying to suck up the device with every rub against your dripping slit. 

He could feel the veins in his cock pulsing hotly in anticipation, pushing up thick pearls of precum out onto his flared tip. 

He wondered what it would be like to slip his shaft against your drenched pussy lips, to massage the underside of his cockhead against the tight ring of your entrance, to feel you squeezing around him, and to hear the sounds you would make just for him. 

He gulped, cool sweat starting to form on his brow. You were beginning to fuck the device into you, pumping the vibrator in and out and in and out. He could see your legs trembling, your juices starting to  uncontrollably splash outside of you, and your pussylips fluttering with every bzzz bzz bzzzzzt of the vibrator fucking and swirling and massaging into your g-spot. 

He was matching your pace, furiously pumping his dick, thinking about how you looked on all fours earlier, thinking about how you smiled when you called him his name, thinking about how you look when you concentrate and the mole above your brow, thinking about the coffee you made for him and the weird shitposts you sent and the way you could look at him like he was nothing, and everything, all at the same time.

And suddenly, he wasn’t climaxing to the stargiirl he had always seen on screen.

It was his tough, quiet, calm chem partner. 

And as he shot hot spurts of thick, ropey cum all the way from his dick to his chin (the most he’s ever released before), he realized only one thing. 

He just finished to the thought of you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Toji Fushiguro had a problem. 

No, scratch that. 

He had a fucking crisis. 

It was drill day, and his head was absolutely nowhere near the turf. He fumbled balls, missed targets, and was a full thirty-seconds under his usual sprint times. 

And that was only how one of his practices went this week. 

It had been five whole days since he last saw you. 

Five days of being dogshit at his sport. 

Five days of holing up in his frat, avoiding campus, avoiding class, avoiding your texts, avoiding you.

It’s not like he wanted to do this, but he didn’t know what to do, how to act, or what to even say. 

How could he talk to you casually while knowing he’s given probably a third of his checks to you? How could he be normal in your presence knowing that he’s watched every single one of your streams, and in turn has finished an embarrassing amount of times to each of them?

How could he trust himself when the thought of you alone had his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt? Or how his chest squeezed so tight he almost went to urgent care, just because you texted asking where he’s been and if he was okay? 

How could he face you, knowing that he somehow developed the largest, fattest, most egregious fuckin’ crush on you?!

And, for the record, Toji Fushiguro did not do crushes. He hadn’t necessarily “ran through” the entire roster of available chicks on campus, but he did have an occasional fling, nothing serious, nothing long, nothing that would distract him from football and his dreams.

He was known as the campus heartthrob and heartbreaker. He was Mr. Non-Chalant, Mr. Everybody-Wants-A-Piece-of-Him, and Mr. I-Don’t-Get-Attached all wrapped up in one 6’4, 230 lbs body. 

A crush? That was new, unexplored territory for him. 

He stared down at your last texts to him.

⭐️(Thursday, 12:03pm): i got us a nice spot!! im sitting on 2nd floor @ clark  ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Ba-dump!

⭐️(Thursday, 12:18pm): knock knock, is mr. toji theree 

Ba-dump! Ba-dump!

⭐️(Thursday, 12:56pm): hey, is everythin ok? r we still on for today?

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–

⭐️(Saturday, 10:01am): r u alive

It physically sickened him that he couldn’t get his cowardly fingers to just fucking write back. But every time he opened up your text chain, all he could do was stare. 

Which is exactly why he couldn’t see you yet. 

He needed time. 

He needed space. 

He needed to get this shit under control.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, the Kappa Epsilon fraternity was throwing a rager tonight. With the group of men only one week out from the next bracket of playoffs, this would be the last night the football frat would get to drink together for a while if they were to make it to the finals. 

It would be the perfect distraction. 

About an hour or so into the party and he was buzzed. He absolutely demolished that shithead Ryomen in beer pong, crushed a pack of PBRs, and now was cooling off in the kitchen, his body feeling swimmy and light. 

He reached for his phone. Maybe, just maybe, if he looked at your messages again for the umpteenth time today, maybe he would know what to say, maybe he–

“Ah, so you can come out and party but ignore all of my texts?”

His heart did that stupid thing where it pounded so hard against his chest he wondered if his ribs bruised. 

Despite the booming of the bass coming from the room over, and the idle chatter of randoms idling in the kitchen, he could hear the dry, unimpressed, and entirely too familiar voice coming directly from behind him. 

He turned, his eyes lowering to find you, as if it was muscle memory, as if it was his second nature. 

You never showed up to these parties (and trust, he has invited you to them all). Yet here you were, your body leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest, and your hair falling around your frame. 

He grinned, the buzz in his head making it easy for a stupidly cheeky and wide and boyish smile to plaster onto his face. (a/n: toji has a hung smile. Okay? Okay.). 

“Hey, party animal,” he said, almost dreamily. 

The top you wore clung to you like a second skin, accentuating the swells of your breasts and the dip of your waist: features that you usually hid underneath your normal, bulkier campus-attire. 

He was indecisive, his eyes bouncing between the unreadable look on your face to the sliver of exposed skin right above your miniskirt. 

You looked good, really fuckin’ good. 

Your eyes widened, before your cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of red, your manicured fingers tightening around the plastic solo cup you were holding

Did he say that outloud?!

You straightened, steeling yourself, willing the warmth in your cheeks to go away. “You’ve ignored me for five days, Fushiguro-” your voice was firm and cool, cutting sharply through the noise of the party.

Back to the last name basis. 

You looked away, before adding, “-and you ditched me on Thursday.” You spoke that last part softly, deliberately, a look of sadness flashing briefly in your pretty, doe-like eyes. 

A dull pang rippled through his chest. 

He knew the implications of your words – the two of you never missed a meetup since this whole “deal” started. 

And, like those days in the libraries or cafes where he found himself sitting before you, following your every word and direction, he now found himself moving towards you, a small pout forming on his scarred lips, as his strong arms caged you in until you were wedged between himself and the counter. 

And, you knew he was huge before. 

But now, up close, you realized just how large he was - his broad shoulders obscuring your view, his muscular chest rippling under the tight black shirt he wore, and his huge hands riddled with veins that climbed up, up, up his forearms. 

He was overwhelming and all-consuming, surrounding your senses with the kind of intensity only he alone could pull off. You breathed in, your chest rising, fighting against the cotton of your ill-fitting top. He smelled of fresh pine and warm leather, clean and raw and manly. 

You came here pissed, but now found your resolve completely fogged and muddled. 

He leaned forward, dipping his head low, until his shaggy fringe tickled softly against the shell of your ear. 

You knew he had been drinking, but the question was, did he know what he was doing right now? Was this purposeful? Was this real? You couldn’t quite tell, but the way his breath stuttered as his nose traced light patterns into your neck, the way he was breathing you in, and the way his hands periodically clenched onto the countertop as if to restrain himself, told you he was at least semi aware of what he was doing. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest. The two of you never stood this close before, let alone touched each other. 

You turned your head slightly, trying to put at least some ounce of space between your face and his.

But for him? That just would not do. 

He slowly pulled away from your neck, his nose lightly mapping a path from the base of your neck, across the soft expanse of your cheek, to the tip of your own. Noses brushing, breaths mingling, chests heaving, and hearts pounding as his scarred lips hovered your glossed ones. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” 

The air between you was warm and thick, charged with something tender and so deeply intimate. 

“Because you scare me,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, really?” Your mouth twitched. 

“Mm.” He nodded once, nose rubbing softly against yours in an eskimo kiss. You could see how his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips dangerously close to pressing against yours.

“‘Think ya cursed me.” His neck flushed red, his low voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I can go-”

“Don’t.”

And then his large hands were latching onto your waist, the heat of his skin searing through the thin material of your skirt. 

“Don’t. Don’tDon’tDon’t.” His brows scrunched together, his face becoming serious. “Don’t go. Don’t leave. Not when you’re here, with me, pretty girl.” 

You breathed, taking your time to steady your voice after hearing the pet name roll off his tongue. “Then what should I do?”

“Stay.”

It was as simple as that, really. 

And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft and commanding. He kissed you like you were sin, drinking you in, savoring you on his tongue, before inevitably, always inevitably, going back for more. He didn’t let you breathe; he wouldn’t. He was greedy and wrong and possessive, claiming your mouth like it was his alone to conquer. Your knees weakened as his tongue massaged against yours addictively, molding against you like you were made for him; like he was made for you. 

Your hands moved before you could think, before you could decide if you were angry with him or if you hungered for him. You found purchase on his broad shoulders, before making your way up, up, up to his neck, one hand running through his dark hair while the other held onto the underside of his strong jaw, thumb gently caressing the scar on the side of his mouth, pulling him in.

He pressed into you further, your ass hitting the lower counter. His body was flush against yours, his chest purposefully rubbing against your tits. 

He could feel your nipples hardening through the flimsy cotton of your top, and he couldn’t stop the sleazy grin that was forming on his face. 

Below, his grip on you was gentle but firm, bringing your body to press and grind against his in an unhurried, languid way, like he had all the time in the world, like all of this was fated from the start. 

And his fingers, oh his fingers, which spanned across your hip, slowly found their way to your ass, gripping and cupping and kneading into the soft, jiggly flesh. 

You could feel something move against your thigh, something sturdy and heavy and completely fucking monstruous. 

“Haah-” you shakily sighed out, breathy and dazed as you looked down to the outline of his bulge. Your eyes widened. 

“I like when you use that smart mouth, y’know,” he was talking against your lips, not able to find it in himself to pull away. His hand slid up the side of your waist, until he stopped right underneath your breast, his thumb rubbing against the underside of where it started to swell. 

His voice dropped an octave lower, whispering to you like it was a secret. “Talk to me. Break this curse. Tell me it’s not just me that feels like this.” 

Please.

His heart was racing. He was stone cold sober. This was it. This was his admission. 

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–

You breathed. 

The party raged on in the background, muddled and distant, like his ears were submerged under water–

“It’s not just you, Toji.” 

Your voice was quiet, your cheeks tinted rouge, your pretty eyes looking up at him in earnest. 

And that was all he needed. 

He picked you up like you were nothing (his bench was 350 lbs, squat 600 lbs, and his hip thrusts? don’t even worry ‘bout it), a smug, victorious grin tugging at his scarred lips.

He carried you out of the kitchen, and a steady stream of wolf whistles and howls erupted from his frat brothers and party goers as the two of you made your way across the foyer, up the stairs, and towards a bedroom. His bedroom. 

He carried you inside, keeping the lights off, letting the warm glow of the streetlamp beside his window spill softly across the room. Without a word, he set you down on his large king-sized bed.

The air in his room was tender and still. You could hear the faint bass of the stereo downstairs, vibrating against his wooden floors like a heartbeat. The distant cheers of the crowd down below faded to quiet as he pressed his mouth to your own. 

He leisurely climbed over you, never breaking the kiss, his muscular arms holding his body above your own. 

It didn’t take long for the makeout to turn heated again, teeth clashing against teeth, bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and teasing in a way that had your head spinning.

You put your hands against his chest. 

“Toji-”

“Stay,” he breathed, whispering the words against your lips, like he could read your mind. “-Stay with me tonight,” he pressed his body closer into you, rutting his hips, “and lemme show you the things I’ve been wantin’ to say to you all week.”

You could feel his cock twitch ominously against your bare thigh as you swallowed. 

His lips were swollen and glistening from your mixed salivas, his eyes glazed over, jade irises almost completely black. His grip on your lower body was unrelenting, holding you in place. 

You lightly pushed your hand against his chest, a hesitant look crossing your features.

A beat passed. For a second, he didn’t even realize he stopped breathing. 

“You’ve been drinking,” You paused, your voice coming out small. “What if.. what if you don’t mean this in the morning?” 

And for all your expertise and genius, oh, how completely wrong you could be.

He let out a humorless chuckle, his sharp canines peaking through his lips in the process. 

“Did it sound like I was jokin’, sweetheart?” He shakily exhaled through his nose as he pressed his erection against your clothed cunt, holding himself there, letting you feel the pressure and full weight of what he was packing. “Does it feel like I’m jokin’ ‘bout this?” 

You bit your lip, pussy throbbing, a warm slickness starting to soak through your panties, before messily spreading between your clenched thighs. 

You shook your head. 

“What’d I say about usin’ your words?”

He pulsed his dick, the sensation making your pussy clench. 

Fuckin’ tease. 

“Nngh- no. No it doesn’t feel like you’re joking,” you almost gasp out. 

A satisfied smirk plastered onto his tanned face.

“Good girl.” 

And then he’s moving down the bed, his calloused hands spreading your legs as he pressed wet kisses against the hot skin of your thighs. He was methodical and slow, making his way up your inner thigh, savoring the small sounds that you tried to suppress as he reached the bottom hem of your skirt, his face mere inches away from your sopping pussy, and his breath puffing warm air against your dampened panties . 

“Ohhh jus’ look at ya,” you could tell he had the most shit-eating grin on his face right now, pride swelling in his voice as he carefully dipped a large, rough finger between the seam of the thin purple fabric you adorned. “This all f’me?”

And - Holy shit.

The videos of you didn’t even do this justice. 

Because low and behold, here you were, under his body, and you were so fuckin’ wet. His finger slid against your folds with little resistance, putting just enough pressure that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he rubbed circles against your clit.

And, Toji Fushiguro never claimed to be a patient man. So, it should’ve came as no surprise when he grabbed your hips and used his hulking strength to push your clothed pussy to his scarred lips, his face nuzzled to your cunt, nose pressed firmly to your clit, and his greedy tongue lapping you up through the soiled fabric. 

It was obscene and perverse and dirty and wrong. 

But oh, how he loved it. Loved the heady taste you left on your panties, and the sweet scent of your gushing pussy, and the excess slick on your thighs that made its way onto his rough cheeks. 

He groaned, a low, guttural sound against your skin that made your tummy squeeze into knots. 

“T-Toji, please,” you whined, pressing your greedy cunt into his face, “need your tongue. Need you. Need more.” You could hardly string a true sentence together, and he hadn’t even fucked you proper yet. 

His heart was thunderous against his chest. 

And his dick? 

Hardest it’s ever fuckin’ been in his fuckin’ life.

He was grinding his erection against the mattress as he obliged your wishes.

After all, how could he say no to you? 

He pushed your panties to the side. 

And oh. 

His balls tightened below him, the urge to cum almost threateningly near as he stared at your bare, swollen pussy. 

Holy. Shit.

Everything was soaked and glistening. 

He rubbed one thumb across your puffy skin, his coarse finger getting soaked in the process. 

He leaned in, gingerly licking fat stripes along your folds, lapping you up, drinking you in. He worked thoroughly, gathering you onto his tongue, until the lower part of his face was a mixture of your juices and his drool. 

It was only after he was satisfied with his work did he make his way to your clit, humming and sucking, the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your cunt filling the air of his room. 

The warm pleasure of it all was beginning to pool in your belly, your toes beginning to curl, legs beginning to shake – but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. 

“Toji, I might-” 

He plunged a rough, thick finger inside you, spearing your tight velvet walls apart, all the way up to his knuckle. 

You saw fuckin’ stars.

The sound you made was so erotic, so loud and depraved and raw, that his dick lurched in his pants, warm gooey pre-cum beginning to leak out from his throbbing tip and into his briefs. 

He wanted to hear you again, and again and again and again. 

He wanted videos, home movies, and spotify playlists of the way your pussy was talking to him. 

Emboldened, his tongue was unrelenting on your clit, as one finger became two, and then two became three. 

You mewled as he crooked them up, massaging against that soft, spongey bundle of nerves that had you panting his name out like it was prayer. 

Your ears were ringing, your eyes beginning to get wet with tears. 

Soon, he was fucking you on his fingers proper, setting a debilitating pace as he plunged his digits in and out and in and out. Filling you up, stretching you out, hitting your most sensitive areas. Again, and again, and again.

The pressure in your core was reaching its limits now, and the pleasure from the sheer fullness of your pussy and the sinful patterns of his tongue were beginning to send violent tremors down your legs. 

You were orgasming before you even realized it.

And yet, he was didn’t stop – didn’t even give you time to breathe as he’s diving into your pussy, slurping you up, his large nose rubbing against your over-sensitive clit as he’s fucking his thick tongue and his fingers past the tight ring of your entrance, fucking you, warm and wet, through each of your peaks. 

Your hands held onto his hair like a lifeline, your fleshy thighs locked around his head as if to keep him in place. 

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes glazed over, completely and utterly pussy drunk, as you looked down at him, his mouth still latched onto your cunt. 

You could see your slick dripping down his face, mixing with the light trails of perspiration that sprouted from his temples. 

Your heart squeezed in your chest. 

It was only after the last few waves of your orgasm subsided when you could finally respond. 

“I think,” you gently reached down to run your shaky hand through his scalp, tenderly pushing away the sweaty fringe by his eyes. “I think I can think of something that might taste better.” 

And then you’re pushing him until he’s moving to the top of the bed, his back resting against the headboard as he pulls his black shirt up and over his head, triceps flexing, exposing his muscular pecs, washboard abs, and the light tufts of hair that sprouted on his chest, and got increasingly darker the further down his abs it went. 

You could feel your pussy walls clamp down, warmth pooling in your core again as you reached out instinctively to run your hands along the length of his torso. 

You never thought, in all of your wildest dreams, that this would be happening. Nor could your dreams do justice to the perfect build of the man before you.

“Well look at you, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your soft hands slowly sliding up, up, up against his skin, all the way from where the dark tufts of thick hair started to disappear under his pants, and towards his pecs, feeling the way his traitorous heart stuttered as you called his name. “Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”

You held his gaze, the air around you charged with anticipation.

Who would move first?

His breathing was shallow as he stared at you, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Your top was rumpled to hell, exposing the line of your cleavage in a way that had his pants tenting painfully, and your mini skirt was so far scrunched that it looked like a belt around your waist. 

“For others, sure…” He grabbed your hands, pressing them deeper into his skin as he slid them up to cup his face. “But for you?” he was whispering now, his ears growing steadily pinker by the second, “I’m afraid you have me beat.” 

Oh. 

And then you’re leaning in, tenderly pressing your lips to his own, mumbling his name over and over again to stop you from saying those other three little words, before sealing it with your tongue. 

And then he’s pulling you into his lap. 

You could taste yourself in his mouth and on his lips, your nipples tightening as his large hands grabbed handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before making them clap together again. 

A muffled groan escaped from the depths of his chest, vibrating against your mouth, as he felt new gushes of your slick begin to dampen the front of his pants.

“Mmmnh- get comfortable, pretty girl.” He slurred out as he pulled at the waistband of your skirt, before letting go, allowing the material to slap against your skin with a light sting. 

“Hmm… only if daddy gets comfortable too.” your eyes were big as you stared at him through your lashes.  

And oh fuck.

Toji had to lean his head back, his skull hitting against the wall with a dull thud! 

The way the words left your mouth had him breathless, brain short-circuiting, and dick throbbing. He needed to recuperate. Calm down.

Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat. 

You smiled slyly, completely aware of how your words affected him, as you pulled your flimsy top off, followed by your bottomwear. Your tits were heavy and full as they were released from the cotton, nipples peaked and stiff. 

You were bare before him, your arms on either side of his hips, squeezing your tits together lightly as you bent low to whisper against his ear. 

“You like when I call you that?” Your voice was sweet as honey as your hands traced the large outline of his dick through his pants, gripping his shaft through the tight material, and feeling the monstrous size of his girth. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” his voice was a mixture of restraint and warning, “don’t start callin’ me that unless y’er tryna see it through.” His neck was visibly tense, and his hands clutched on to the meat of your hips as he stared at you. 

Pretty girl. 

He squeezed tighter.

His pretty girl. 

A moment of silence passed as you considered his words. “And what if I do wanna see it through…?” Your head tilted cutely while your mean hands found their way to his happy trail, running your nails down through the thick tufts of dark hair, dipping juuust below the waistband of his pants, before retreating back up again in slow, agonizing loops. “Show me your worst, daddy.”

And who was he to deny you? 

Before you knew it, he had his pants and briefs shoved down his legs, his massive cock heavily thudding against his washboard abs

Your mouth gaped open.

And ohhh how he relished the dumb look on your lil’ cute face.  

You didn’t even think anyone could be this large. 

Yet here he was, with a dick that looked like it belonged in a porno, pulsing fat and heavy and huge as he leaked pre-cum all over the angry mushroomed head. 

He smirked, cocky as ever, as you subconsciously licked your lips, eyes glazed over, cock drunk just off the look alone.

Your pussy gushed warm, new slick between your legs as you carefully leant down, your hands grabbing around his base, slowly bringing his dick closer to your face.

He could feel the warm puffs of air coming from ur plush lips, his dick twitching like crazy at how close you were to finally, finally getting your mouth on him. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to his leaking slit, before running your lips over the excess pre-cum, painting your lips with the milky substance.

He swallowed hard. His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged.

He groped your tits, rolling your stiff nipples in his calloused fingers, eliciting the sweetest moan from you that reverberated around his dick.

You gave him small kitten licks at first, teasing the idea, before gradually licking thick fat stripes up and down the length of his huge dick. You traced the pulsing veins that climbed up his hot shaft and licked around the sensitive underside of his throbbing cockhead. 

And it was only when his chest was heaving, his impatient hands gripping onto your skull, did you finally, finally begin to throat fuck the shit outta him. 

None of the videos he had watched of you before even came close to the sensation of seeing the bulge forming in your throat from where his cock was buried inside of you, or the way your nose tickled against the tufts of dark hair at the base of his cock. 

You moaned dreamily around him at the feeling of his heavy dick pounding against the back of your throat, filling your mouth and overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you bobbed him in your mouth, hands jerking off what you couldn’t reach, and your thighs rubbing together greedily, craving any ounce of friction against your throbbing pussy.

But before you knew it, he was lifting you off, a light string of saliva following en suit, connecting the two of you together. 

“What’s wrong?” You had a devilish grin on your pretty face. “Scared you're gonna cum too quick?”

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through his body as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, while the other smacked your ass. 

“Nah,” his canines glinted in the lowlight, a predatorial grin etching into his features. “Just tryna make sure nothin’ gets wasted.” And then he's shifting you up, rubbing his thick cock against your gooey cunt, mixing his thick pre with your juices. 

Your heart fluttered.

His dick was so warm against your skin – so, so much better (and bigger) than the toys you regularly used to get yourself off. 

You’ve had enough. You’ve done your waiting. You needed him inside you. 

You lifted yourself up, your hands bracing themselves on either side of Toji’s broad shoulders. Your pussy was dripping down onto his angry dick as you slowly lowered yourself, hips circling, letting his throbbing head trace your sopping lips. 

He could have almost passed out from the sight alone.

Instead, he panted out a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to restrain himself from bucking up into your cunt. 

You paused your hips, lowering yourself again ever so slightly so that his leaking head was now smooching against your gummy entrance, the heat of his cock stirring something warm and familiar in your belly. 

Please, please, please, ple–

And then your pussy is swallowing his head whole. 

“Oh, fuuuck you’re tight mama,” his eyes squeezed shut, fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead as Toji gasped out at the sensation of his thiiick cockhead squeezing past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. 

Your gummy walls sucked against him from all angles, squishing into his hardness and rubbing deliciously against the sensitive underside of his mushroomed tip. 

And this was just the tip.

He didn’t know if he would make it out of here alive. At least, without getting you pregnant. 

You whimpered, actually fuckin’ whimpered his name as you reached down, touching where he was spearing you apart, your lips drawn thin and tight to accommodate for the sheer size of him. 

“You’re so big Toji,” a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. “Look at how much more I gotta take.” And he did, he really did look. Because you began to let your finger slowly slide from where the two of you were connected, down, down, down to the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.

“Haah- Ya’ think it’ll fit, sweetheart?” He grunted, his lips involuntarily bucking as you pouted cutely at him. 

Something impassable flashed across your feature. “I’ll make it fuckin’ fit.”

And then you’re slamming down onto his dick, and it feels like the literal wind gets knocked out of both of your chests. 

He has never felt something so deliciously tight before.

You have never felt so goddamn filled up before.

You’re clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering and smooching around his raw cock as it pulses heavy and thick with animalistic need. 

It took you several moments to orient yourself, to gather your scrambled senses back together to remember what you were doing, what your goal was, why you were here. 

“I have a secret to tell you.” You stared down at him, an unreadable look passing over your features. 

“O-oh really?” you squeezed your walls around him, catching him off guard.

“I know you watch me touch myself,” you whispered it like it was a secret, sly and just a touch proud.

And of all the things you could’ve said, nothing would have prepared him for that.

His dick bobbed from inside of you. 

“Fushi-daddy420 isn’t the most subtlest of names, no?” you grinned meanly as you watched his jade eyes turn impossibly black as you began to slowly, teasingly, mercifully bounce on his cock. Up and down and up and down. 

“But-?”

He thought you would hate him if you knew. 

He agonized for days for this reaction?!!

“And after you ran out on me after seeing my place?” you were panting, riding him as you talked. “Yea, that kinda solidified it.”

And just when he thinks you’ve found your rhythm and set your pace, you slowly begin to circle your hips, hitting new angles deep inside your guts that have his throbbing tip pressing into the spongy part of your pussy. 

“You don’t -fuhh- don’t hate me?” his mind was swirling, how could he focus when you felt this good?

“Never.” Your hips rolled, and you pressed your tits together, giving him a show.  

And you were doing so well, and felt so good. He pressed a fat thumb against your clit, spelling out his name, as if to claim you, mark you, over and over and over again. 

T-O-J-I !

He throws his head back as he feels you creaming around his cock, while your eyes are rolling into the backs of your head as you feel his thick goopy pre frothing at your entrance, dripping down onto his balls. The pace is getting faster, the air getting hot, and thick beads of sweat are rolling down your back. The obscene sounds of sweaty skin slapping against skin filled the hot, sex-scented air. 

You lean down to kiss him, tongues messily entangling, drool spilling from the sides of your lips as you ride his cock like a fuckin’ animal, ass jiggling from the force of his hips rocking up to meet you, his heavy balls smacking against your pussy like a promise. 

In one swift motion, he’s flipping the two of you over, your back to the bed, his dick never leaving your pussy, as he continues to fuck into you. He has your legs spread wide, your knees to his sides as he buries himself deep within your warmth, the new angle allowing you to feel his fat tip smooching against your cervix.

He’s panting, breath shaky as he slows down, rutting shallowly, not allowing himself to be too far from your gummy insides. “T-tell me where you want it,” his voice came out strained, and you could see where his veins were protruding on his neck. 

Oh. His cum.

His balls were pressed against you, tightening with every passing second. You could feel his dick bobbing against your walls as he was direly trying to stop himself from cumming. 

You smiled, soft and sweet, as you pressed a hand against your lower tummy, feeling the bulge of where he was nestled inside you. 

“Oh, you already know,” and you were batting your pretty lashes up at him, making his heart stutter. “Isn’t that right, daddy?” 

And oh, how his broken mind snapped. 

The next thing you knew, he’s pressing your knees so far up they’re knocking against your tits, his hulking body leaning over and pressing down into you, chest against chest, until you could feel his warm lips sucking bruises by your ear. 

And then he’s draaagging his thick cock through your pussy until only the tip is inside you, before snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock the deepest it could go back inside you, spearing you apart, and setting an absolutely cruel, delicious, depraved pace that has his balls bruising your ass and his cock breeching your womb. 

It goes for what feels like seconds, minutes, hours.

Your legs began to shake at all the sensations, your pussy walls convulsing around him and your ears ringing as you started to see white. 

And he truly couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

Not when you sounded so hot, with your face scrunched up in the prettiest ‘o’ and your nails digging crescents into his back as you called his name, begging for his seed. 

And so he bucked up, his hips flush against yours, locking you into the meanest of mating presses, as his dick lurched, balls scrunching, as he pumped copious amounts of his thick, sticky cum straight into your womb.

And he’s still bucking his hips, through each of your peaks, fucking his cum deep inside you, until your belly was bloated and full of him.

“Thattaa girl,” he pressed a warm kiss to your mouth as he fucked you through the last few peaks of your orgasms, gingerly swiping his thumb across your cheek as if you were something precious. “My girl.”

And later on, as you softly drifted to sleep, with a belly full of his cum and his softening dick still inside you, you could feel his scarred lips pressing light kisses across your face, and the mumblings of something that sounded vaguely too close to “iloveyou” whispered into your warm skin.

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Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.

After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.

There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side. 

Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).

He still kept his same protein shake recipe.

He still kept his same choice of attire.

But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb. 

And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38. 

And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend. 

“I was with a friend….she’s gone now…but you’re all beaten up. along with those other guys,” she looks around at the pile of men just laying unconscious in the alley, all at his feet.

“are you alright?” his voice had you blinking.

“yes, I’m fine—“

“are you alright in the head,” his cold words hit. tapping the side of his head repeatedly, emphasizing it. who the fuck is he? “what kind of person decides to come running into an alley full of bleeding men? clearly you have no fucking sense of where the fuck you are or you would’ve ran away just like your little friend did—“

“just because you lost this little gang fight doesn’t mean you haveta take it out on me,” you snap back. that was a mistake, because the next thing you felt was a grip around your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks.

“do you have any idea who you’re speaking to right now?” you felt your blood run cold, you’ve never seen that kind of look on someone’s face. his words and his body were scary, terrifying…but his eyes…they looked….why did you feel a warmth crawling up your cheek.

“no,” your blunt response had the man’s brow twitching. “a loser?”

why is he getting so worked up? he wasn’t a loser. he was just taking a little rest after beating up all those men. but this nobody comes fussing around him.

“fuck off,” he finally lets go of your wrist, subtly looking from the corner of his eye, the way her small hand rubs at the bruise that had formed. was he gripping her that hard? how easily does this girl bruise?

she gets up, I guess she has some sense.

“what’re you?” his eyes go wide as he watches you pull some jackets off the unconscious bodies hidden under a roof, before coming back to the man.

“here you go,” you put the dry jacket around his exposed shoulders, rubbing your hands over it to warm him from the cold rain.

“your hands are cold, this isn’t helping—“

“you’re so noisy!” you huff, “I don’t think you have any friends,” you grumble, using the other jacket to wipe some of the blood from his body.

“don’t need them,” he replies, eyes slowly trailing over the stranger. was she coming back from a party? her shirt was sticking to her pretty chest, adorable bra visible. as for her skirt, it was drenched resting high on her upper thighs as the rain showcased the pretty skin exposed to his lustful eyes.

“what about those guys?” he nods over to the men that lost. “not gonna clean em up and act like a good girl?”

“no,” you mumble, eyes flickering up as you rose to your feet. “i thought you were strong?” fucking brat, he thinks, yet he can’t contain his interest and stands up, your fixing the jacket on him, not bothering with yourself considering how drenched you are, and your body trembling just a bit, it was like you were dunked in an a ice bath.

you move to take his hand, leading him away from the mess only to feel a warmth drape around your shoulders. you look up seeing the man cover you with the jacket, leaving him once again naked from the waist up.

“you can’t just copy me,” you fuss, cheeks puffed. “you’re injured, crippled, broken—“

“that’s enough,” he snaps, “it’s not my blood.” he concludes, allowing you to get another look at his body and he was right. from what you could make trying your best to ignore his inked body, aside from the cuts around his knuckles, the rain swept away the blood that had drenched him, not a single trace of a cut on his body. yet you still go to grab another jacket and drape it on the man. trying your best not to stare too long at the intricate tattoo designs that covered his entire biceps and chest, some even peaking out of his waistband .

“there…matching,” you smile, holding his hand and leading him out of the alley. he watches you closely, are you not scared? his thumb brushes your hand for a moment, your hands really were cold, but also split at the knuckles.

you finally bring him to a small hotel, he doesn’t necessarily know why he follows inside. he has business he should probably attend too, but instead he wants to see where this is heading. he stands in the entrance as you go over to the front desk. his eyes watching as your skirt sticks high up under your perky ass, rising up as you lean over the front desk.

“just one room, please,” there’s a sudden swell rising in his chest when he sees the clerk man drag over your form, obviously eyeing your chest that was so so visible in your drenched shirt—

“here’s your key—“ you blink as you feel a grip suddenly around your shoulder, hand closing your jacket as the man snatches the key card from the clerk.

“oh, you angry or somethin, loser?” you mumble to him as you raise a brow at him, his hand still holding your jacket closed. he’s so strange.

“you’re fucking annoying,” he huffs, “not a loser. toji.” he lets go of you as he walks away from the desk man, not before sending him a glare that immediately had him pissing his pants. fucking gangsters.

you scratch your cheek as you take his hand again “whatever you say, loser.”

“toji,” he corrects through clenched teeth.

“to…” he looks at you. “…loser.” you lead his fussy ass to the room. once you arrive you open the room and hold for him to enter. so this was so you can sleep together? were you going to strip now, show off and ask for money? whatever…i guess he wouldn’t mind some sex right now. letting off some steam after a fight was always a good feeling. you didn’t look like an escort though, was this your first time, is this to pay for college as some side hustle? you didn’t look like you were going to ask for money. should he ask?

the small hand in his had his eyes wavering. no…it wouldn’t hurt to just sleep with someone for himself. especially if it was you—

“there you go,” you perk from the door. he looks over his shoulder seeing your hand extending the key card out to him. “so you’re not resting in some cold alley and getting yourself into more fights.” what’s happening?

“you—“

“I booked it for two nights, that’s all I have for now,” you let out an gentle laugh. “i have to go now. be good, though. don’t go making scary faces at everyone or you won’t have any friends. bye bye loser!” he was too stunned to say anything in return which allowed you time to escape before he had time to process.

he would’ve been grateful for this room if it was him a couple years ago. but after selling his innate talent for fighting in exchange for money, he could’ve just gone back to his well furnished apartment. yet, you didn’t even bother to ask him if he needed a place to sleep. maybe you didn’t want to embarrass him, or assume things? was it really just kindness? but it was hard to tell with your stubborn attitude.

however, when he went to the front desk to check out the next day, he found out you left the hotel room under your full government name. at first he thought it was too easy, but he guessed you really were just helping him.

y/n l/n…pretty.

nevertheless, as much as the man wanted to search for you, he didn’t have the time to go digging into some random girl’s life. as if he had any time for anything other than this life, if you can even call it that.

the nicotine circled his lungs before he exhaled out, dark lashes closing for a moment to savor the addicting sensation, before flicking the cigarette right before dodging the knife that was lunged at his face.

his fist colliding with bone, the snaps and cracks of the falling men ringing in his ears, gaze glanced unbothered at the splits decorating his knuckles with each jab. he wondered what you’d thought when you took his hand. you didn’t say a word. your hand took his like it was nothing at all, as if the blood didn’t also taint your hand. were his hands rough, disgusting…?

“can loser’s be gangster?” the sudden voice had the man looking up. the figure in the distance covered by the rain suddenly had his mind short circuiting. “your blood or no?” your lips pursed as you slid your lollipop to your right cheek.

“you live around here?” toji rubbed his temple, how is this happening again? coincidences cannot be that frequent.

“I think I have some money for food, not another room,” you take the lollipop from your lips. toji quirks a brow, taking a cigarette out only for the rain to remind him it wasn’t possible at the moment.

“you think I need yer allowance from daddy?” he snickers.

“i do.”

the man tsks, glaring at you. “go fuck off before you get lost,” what was he thinking? all he’s been doing was thinking about you and now that you were here it only confirmed, this was not something he needed—

“huh?” your nose scrunches in annoyance. “you sensitive or somethin? embarrassed to take money from a girl?” you roll your eyes and all the man could think was how cute you looked right now. he could almost laugh at your attitude, yet he also felt a stir to press back.

“i don’t have time to play with some college kid,” he brushed past you, unbothered by the steam that left your ears.

“whatever, like anyone would come and— hey! you’re walking away! hey!” your voice easily fell deaf compared to the loud thuds of the rain hitting the pavement and buildings. what did stop him was the group of men he walked past.

“I saw her come this way! I swear it, she quickly came rushing after her shift. she looked so hot in the cafe and when I found out she works there too! I’m going—“

“you? as if she’d open her legs for you. I told you to shut the fuck up and just stand and keep watch. how many fuckin times did I say I’d be the one that’ll take y/n’s sweet innocence—“ the words were immediately knocked out along with a couple teeth.

toji’s chest was suddenly heaving, blood pure red as it sizzled in his body, eyes completely dark. all he could see was red, wet dripping red.

“hey! why’d you run away! I said I’d get you food!” your voice suddenly rounding the corner had his eyes snapping back. he was unsure if the two men on the ground were even alive. “hey! loser!”

“why’re you always yapping ?” he suddenly appeared just as you turned the corner. his large frame covering the little incident behind him.

“huh? whatever, I forgive you so let’s go eat,” your soft hand easily slips into his rough ones like it was second nature. your lips moving as if you didn’t feel the blood that was tainting your clean ones, even if the rain easily washed it away.

“it’s okay,” toji ignores you as he drapes his coat over your shoulders.

“everyone’s staring at you,” his jaw clenches, but you misunderstood. heat suddenly crawling up your neck. there it was, again. you couldn’t explain it. he made you feel hot even when the rain was cold. is this normal?

toji sat across from you. his hand running through his wet hair, slicking back the long dark bangs that dripped on his face. his eyes never leaving you as you moved around in the booth. his cheek resting in his hand watching as you ordered for him. his brows pinched, noticing a small cut on your bottom lip.

“you’re not getting anything?” he voiced with a slight edge.

“I said my treat,” you take out another lollipop.

“that usually means you treat yourself and the guest,” his eyes half lidded as he notices your brow quirk and your arms cross, not before taking the lollipop out to wave around.

“now that doesn’t make any fucking sense,” you scoff, only causing toji to scoff in return, leaning back against the booth. his black dress shirt stretching across his big chest, material still wet from the rain only accentuating his big figure.

“don’t scoff.”

“I don’t think people that fight in rainy alleyways know what treating someone means,” you meet toji’s glare with your own.

“I can see your bra,” toji glances down at your chest, even though the jacket covered, you knew he’d already seen the wet silhouette of your body earlier.

“so?” you roll your eyes. “never seen one before?”

“don’t worry, princess, I’m used to taking them off,” toji sits up as the food arrives, smirking to himself at your flustered state.

“perve,” you mutter as the waitress leaves, but not before she makes eyes with your guest, who gives an easy laid back smile as if this sorta thing happens every day.

“if you want me to flirt with you, just say so,” toji takes a bite of the burger, his thumb wiping the sauce from the corner of his mouth, slipping it back in between his lips, sucking it clean. your legs unconsciously closed.

“I don’t need anymore of that,” you reply in distaste. suddenly grabbing the man’s attention.

“anymore?” he felt the sudden stir from earlier return. the men’s voices from the street echoing through his mind.

“do you like the food?” you’re leaning forward, smiling as he ate with no complaints. your finger coming up to your face as your eye closed as the other gave him the cutest fucking smile ever. “it’s okay to admit defeat again, loser. I know I have great taste in food.” you tease, but so fucking sweetly.

toji couldn’t stop his heart from beating a bit quicker than before. the air just abruptly leaving his lungs as he coughed aggressively, almost choking. the sight was something that sent his mind short circuiting.

“what happened there,” toji points to his own lip, calming himself a bit. you touch your lip, your eyes hesitant for a moment before your usual smile returns quickly.

“I was biting at the skin…exam season,” it was hard to tell, especially as you laughed oh so lightly he could almost faint, yet your body stood up. ready to return the jacket and leave, that is until a large hand wraps around your own cold one as you stood beside his booth. you felt your body heat up like a fire burning under your skin.

“don’t like owing someone twice,” he mutters, retracting his hand. you feel the paper in your palm. “keep the jacket.”

you left. again.

he did owe you, that’s why he gave you his number. there was no other reason for that. was he going to admit that maybe he was worried. maybe the sudden loss of control he had in the alleyway scared him. that the thought of this ‘not being a first’ kept him up at night. what job? what happened to your lip? what was bothering you?

he didn’t know you. but he answered every unknown number. every call that could be a spam risk, every single one until it was finally your voice that rung into his ear.

“why did you give me your number?” the rain made it a little hard to make out your voice, but he could manage. it was probably the one voice he’d be able to hear even if it was miles away.

“why did you call?” he could sense the hesitation on your end. should he push you— “where—“

“the bus stop,” your location was easily given to him and his body was already turning his motorcycle around, cars honking as he swerved around. he didn’t need any explanation nor did you feel the need to give one. your heart was beating a bit too quickly, a mix of feelings circling inside.

the roar of the motorcycle was covered by the late night traffic bustle. but he could make you out, along with the three other men that stood a bit too close even as you continued to shuffle away from them and yell at them to stop. his grip almost broke his bike’s handles. the rain drenched your clothes through. body shivering as the water dripped from the ends of your little skirt, shirt stuck to your body as your arms hugged your chest for some warmth.

“cmon, we spent the night let’s continue this date sugar—“ distracted one of the man’s hand slowly crawled up— just then a motorcycle suddenly stopped in front of the bus stop.

“you’re pretty fast,” your smile almost broke his heart. the relief that swept your features, the forced smile that reached your sunken eyes, fuck! your shoulder still tense, your grip still tight on your bag had toji’s chest clenching. the men that were surrounding you, immediately stumbling back at the appearance of the big scary looking gangster on the motorcycle.

“nothing I can’t handle,” toji teased back, teeth peaking as he gave you a grin, he took off his helmet watching your pretty lashes flutter from the pouring rain, eyes rimmed red. he couldn’t stop himself anymore. his hand reached out, cupping your cold cheeks letting his hands warm you up as you looked up at him, breath stopping.

“hey, who is this—“ one of the men had the courage to step forward, but toji was just quicker, pulling you into his firm chest, arm circling your shoulder as he suddenly took the role of your protector.

“don’t fucking look at her,” your fingers tightened around his shirt unconsciously, his voice was deep, if looks could kill….. toji immediately pulled away, unzipping his coat and putting it over your shoulders, zipping the big jacket as your arms went inside. that immediately grabbed the men’s attention as they noticed the intricate tattoos that decorated the man’s thick arms.

“ever been on one?” toji teased, pulling an extra helmet out of the seat and placing your bag inside as he helped you clip it on.

“you think I’m some lame nerd?” you scoff a bit too sarcastically.

“nerd isn’t the word, not when you’re running into dark alleys alone and picking fights with gangsters,” he sits on the bike, extending a hand to help you behind him. “i know you’re a tough one.”

“so you admit you’re a gangster!” you shout standing up on the bike.

“don’t shout! and sit down!” toji scolds, gripping your thigh. “hold onto me!”

“don’t yell!” you immediately yell back, yet your arms circle his firm waist, hugging him close, pressing your chest against his back.

“I’ll kick you off!” toji huffs, only to curse himself once he feels your arms only tighten at his words. should he be yelling at you right now, but he can’t help it.

“you’re so grumpy, that’s why you’re always fighting,” you scoff, toji can feel your eyes rolling, which only has his lips curling up. you weren’t that easy to break. cute.

once he began driving, your words slowly fizzled away. now your body was the only thing that spoke to him how you were feeling. he felt your hand grasping his drenched shirt when he’d go a bit faster. his hand would go to your exposed thigh at stop lights, gently rubbing the skin in reassurance. his jaw clenches when he felt your body trembling from the cold.

“you’re not gonna tell me where to take you?” toji rubbed gentle but firm circles against your wet thigh as you held him closer burying your face against his back. “loss for words?” no response. “….that’s a first.”

he didn’t need much after that. he didn’t understand why he knew what to do, but it almost felt like he understood you. understood you enough to know that you’d feel comfortable when he parked his bike in the unfamiliar parking lot. his fingers drifting to your thigh again.

“gonna hold me all night?” he jokes, but he maneuvers off the bike, unclipping your helmet pulling it off with his. your eyes are casted down, toji felt his chest tighten. he didn’t like seeing your face so sullen. what was going on? he knew absolutely nothing about this girl.

“is this where you live?” you brush the strands that stuck to your face, all messed up from the rain and the helmet pressing it.

“were you expecting some box under a bridge?” he helps you off the bike, practically lifting you off the bike and placing you in front of him. your eyes gaze up at him, breath warm as you tried to calm your beating heart. there were too many things going through your mind, you couldn’t even respond to his comment. instead you opted on following him into the building.

“wanna talk about it?” toji cringes at his own words. talk about it? since when has he spared anyone his ear…ever?

“no,” you’re still holding his arm, staying close behind him as he maneuvers around his spacious apartment, picking up some leftover garbage lying around.

“you hungry, then? I can order some—“ his breath hitched.

“don’t wanna,” you’re suddenly pressing your face to his back, arms circling his torso catching him off guard. he couldn’t wrap his head around you. a missing piece was dangling in the rain and he just needed that one piece to put you together. yet here you are.

“don’t wanna?” he felt your fingers grip his shirt. he could feel your body trembling against his. “can ya talk to me?” he’s getting a bit frustrated now. turning around in your hold, you bite the inside of your cheek as his hand brushes your cheek, forcing you meet his gaze. his eyes seem a bit feral, desperate to hear anything.

you’re silent.

“fuck, y/n,” he swears, he takes a deep breath calming himself. soon noticing the way your body is trembling. “you’re gonna catch a cold,” he takes your hand, leading you into the bedroom.

he waits outside until you step out in some dry clothes. the sweats were big, but the sweater felt so cozy. it smells like him, your body seems to relax as toji dries your hair, he felt uneasy not hearing your annoying voice.

“what’s this?” toji’s voice was low, thumb brushing the bruised skin on your shoulder, his fingers slid to push the collar down only for your hand to stop him.

“you’re really not gonna say shit?” he pushes, what else can he do? he picked you up, brought you to his home, gave you clothes…was it so bad to ask what the fuck is going on, especially now??

“it’s none of your business,” you snap, fingers gripping your his sweater. “you don’t hear me asking about your gangster fights or whatever.”

“that’s all you ask about,” he deadpans.

your cheeks puff out. “i can just leave,” you move to stand up, only to get pulled back by the mysterious man, your body falling in his lap, as he holds you close.

“did I say you can leave?” his evergreen eyes seemed too much to handle as you looked away. “you can stay,” he rubs your back soothingly, his voice deep, clear he’s had his own long day.

“i…” your voice fizzles as you bow your head, jaw clenched as your fist tightened. “thank you,” your throat feels dry. “thank you,” your voice hitches.

“yeah, yeah,” toji sighs, accepting your broken self as he pulls you to his chest, knowing you were desperate to keep composure in front him so he allowed you to bury your face in his chest. “you’re one fucking piece of work,” he sighs, stroking your back soothingly as he brushed the back of your head, trying to compose his own helplessness as your body shook quietly.

he hadn’t even realized the night came to end until his phone started going off like in the next morning. he groaned, turning over, just to hit the ground with a loud thud.

“fuck,” he sits up, cranky attitude looking around to see himself in the living room. the events of last night slowly flooding back. he hadn’t even realized he’d knocked out holding you. “y/n?” he rubbed his face, only to hear his phone again. groaning once more as he looked around for his cellphone.

“what is it?” he snaps sharply, standing up as he rubs his chest under his sweater, yawning as his feet pad to the bedroom. his eyes scanning the room. he searches the entire apartment, only to sit back in the kitchen, call ending.

where the fuck did you disappear too?

his thumb hovered over your number. would you even answer? his jaw clenched, fuck! he has to deal with some business first. he’ll call you later.

your jaw was locked, body completely tense with fury. your breath was shaky as you felt a hand brush your leg.

“what’s wrong, honey? i won’t give you another tip if I don’t see you drink with me,” your customer sat in the booth with you, sitting a bit too close for your liking as his colleagues also littered the table.

“sorry, sir, if you’ll excuse me, I just need to run to the ladies room,” you felt his grip on your wrist. your entire body reacting, only for your face to relax as you forced the instinctive smile that had every customer swooning. “I’ll only be a minute,” you reassure.

“I’ll be waiting for you, sugar.” you shuffle through the loud atmosphere, passing by other hostesses and drunk grabby customers, until you made it to the stairs, moving up quickly. your fist was colliding with the door at the end of the hall.

“you promised I didn’t have to come in today,” your chest is heaving, desperately trying to keep composure. your boss sits behind his desk, the tension felt suffocating as he glared up at you.

“that was our deal, but when you throw drinks on customers, the night cancels out,” he refers to the incident last night.

“they were touching me! that’s against the rules!” you snap, completely furious. the loud crash of the boss’s chair startled you. his grip was painful on your jaw.

“every other bitch lets their fucking customers touch them except you,” he seethes. “you’re fucking lucky I gave you this job. be grateful for what you have!” he seemed more angry than usual, but that didn’t mean you were going to hold back any punches either. which seemed to be your mistake.

“your interest increases every week, if you don’t want next month’s payment raised, you’re going to fucking take these vip customers,” he seethes, ushering in some security.

“I have a booth right now,” you snap back, only to get cut off by the stinging in your cheek. he lets out a deep breath. at least he wasn’t wearing rings this time, you think, brushing a hand where he’d just slapped you.

“don’t fucking talk back to me. they’ll fuck off and you’ll take these ones. my men like the young ones, and sadly you’re one of the three that’s working tonight,” the old bastard lights a cigarette. “Don’t worry, sweets, you won’t be alone; and I’ll be joining in a bit.”

you felt your stomach churn, you couldn’t think. your brain pounding the back of your skull as you were escorted by the security to the vip room. you held your stomach, calming yourself, not able to afford an increase in your shitty debt. even though you were supposed to be working at the delivery service tonight, this still paid more, so suck it up!

“Ah yes, come in darling,” your knock was welcomed with a booming voice. you slid the door, stepping in, eyes on the ground as you immediately bow, introducing yourself with a gorgeous little smile.

“I’m happy to be one of your hostess for the night, I hope I can do my best to serve you all—“ you straighten up, only to feel your entire world stop….you could practically hear your heart dropping, body running stone fucking cold.

the deep forest eyes were dark as night.

“is everything alright, darling?” one of the men spoke, catching your attention as you turned, breaking into your smile as you gave an light laugh. the six men and two hostesses sat on the tatami mat on the raised platform around the center table, drinks already littering the place.

“of course, my apologies,” your sweet smile had the men around the table swooning as they immediately forgave you. “come join us here.” the same man made room for you. the two other hostesses already sitting beside some—

a drink suddenly slammed on the table, starling the hostesses and men. your eyes met once again. you felt a cold sweat break out.

“sit here,” toji. you gulped, nibbling on the inside of your cheek.

“c’mon toji, we’re all here for good time!” one of them had the courage to speak up, laughing as he had his legs spread. the four other men agreeing as they coddled up with the other two women.

“are you asking me to repeat myself?” his words seemed to cut like ice, immediately silencing the table. “sweetheart,” you felt your breath hitch, you had used an alias when introducing yourself just now, he knew it was bs. you bit back your tongue as you stepped out of your shoes and walked onto the platform around the table, before taking a seat down beside the man. “how was your morning?”

your mind was moving too fast for you to keep up. this was so humiliating, was it because you didn’t want this life colliding with the other? or was it because you felt so degrading being seen in this kind of place? but then again, you had no idea who this man is. why do you care what he thinks?

the table seemed to ease once toji started speaking to you as they returned to their conversations and drinking games.

“what’re you doing?” his voice close to your ear, it sent a chill down your body. he was leaning on his arm behind you, practically brushing his face in your hair as he spoke.

“serving you,” you smile with your face, eyes closing a bit as you force yourself to get through this night. but all you could think was what was he doing here? you didn’t want him to be like everyone else? you definitely had a different image of him that you were feeding yourself. did you really think he was different?

“y/n—“ your body tensed immediately.

“don’t say my name,” you snap under your breath.

“then fucking answer me,” the hushed whispers received some glances from the men sitting close by. toji didn’t care, especially when he noticed the slight bruise on your cheek.

“what’s this,” his fingers brush the bruise.

“don’t touch me,” you speak through clenched teeth, turning away from him, chest rising as you feel the room start to close in on you. this was too overwhelming.

“let’s talk business men!” your boss immediately yells as he steps into the room. the men standing to greet him immediately, toji remained sitting.

“boss, we’ve ran through the data and I think it’d be wise to expand our reach to shinjuku,” one of the men starts rambling, but all you could hear was the boss. did these men work for that bastard? toji looked down, eyes narrowing at your shoulders tensing.

“hold on,” toji picks up his drink, arm resting on his knee perched up. “I couldn’t give a fuck about your expansion. we had a deal, so let’s talk about that shit first, then you can beg me for another fuck job,” your brows pinched. you didn’t want to be here. you couldn’t keep your composure, it was difficult at times, but you usually pushed through. but this time around, this time, it felt like new scars being made, why was your heart hurting?

their voices blurred in the back of your mind. your eyes blank as you stared at the table. hearing toji’s voice close to you, your boss talking, the men around the table. how much longer do you have to live like this? what’s the point in being here? you’ll be dead before you can pay off this shitty debt your uncle left you. should you give up? working this job, working four more, barely getting any sleep? what kind of life is this? but what about your dreams? don’t you have ideals? you can give up? is there a life after this? is it even possible—

“you seem agitated toji, you don’t think I’ll go back on my word do you?” your boss grins, shining his gold teeth with a laugh.

“I need to use the restroom,” you suddenly stand up, immediately catching toi’s attention, hand coming to yours only for you to pull away. you quickly make your way to the exit stepping off the platform, until a hand tightens around your wrist, a yelp escaping.

“sit your fucking ass down, bitch,” your boss sneers, his grip on you making you wince in pain.

“i need to use the bathroom,” you whisper through clenched teeth, blood boiling, but the entire room is staring.

“you have customers, sit back with mr. zenin,” he was a hefty old man, probably three times your size, so his grip felt like it was about to snap your wrist in half.

“I’ll take her with me,” toji’s grip was tight on the boss, causing him to let go with an embarrassing whimper. your wrist sore as toji pulled you away from the man, arm around your shoulders. the boss looking up with a raised brow.

“they’re hostesses, not escorts zenin,” your boss looks at you. “as much as she looks like one…besides her shift isn’t over. you don’t need to step in—“

“I’ll take my payment as her,” you felt your heart stop. what is he thinking? buying you so easily? “this is my last time working with you. these shit delays in payments is fucking embarrassing.”

“waste of good money,” your boss scoffs, glaring down at you, before brushing off the private hire and turning back to continue his business.

“what the fuck is wrong with you!” you snap, the early night breeze sent goosebumps down your exposed arms. you winced now feeling the bruise on your wrist.

“you couldn’t tell me this? really?!” as if the man was going to hold back from yelling at you. “tell me! he gave you that cut on your lip and those fucking bruises, right?” he was practically seething. his teeth could draw blood from how hard he was struggling to keep it together.

“I’m not saying shit, so just leave it alone,” you huff, turning on your heel.

“y/n!” his hand mistakenly takes your bruised wrist causing your body to wince as you yelp in pain.

“let go!” you shout. “everyone’s always fucking touching me!”

“did he break it?” his grip loosens, but he still holds it to check.

“it’s fine,” your tremble, holding your wrist to your chest. “it’s probably just sprained.”

“do you trust me?” toji had to calm down right now, but it was difficult. it really fucking was.

“no,” you answer bluntly, eyes narrowing at his as he glares back.

“well, trust me.”

“that’s not how it works,” you look up at him as he steps forward, hand cupping your face again, eyes looking at the small bruise ghosting your cheekbones. you hated that you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. why was his touch okay?

“that’s how this is going to work,” he’s speaking much softer right now, and you feel the warmth around your shoulders. another coat….asshole, he knows what he’s doing.

“hey!” the shout has you looking over your shoulder, toji also checking in the distance, both noticing the three men charging down the street. “you fucking bitch! ya had us kicked out?! for what?!” you immediately recognized your table from earlier that night. “I fucking paid for you, so I’m getting my fucking moneys worth—“

the moment he came into reach, toji pulled you into his chest, back pressed against him as his hand came up covering your eyes. your breath hitched, “close your eyes, y/n.”

toji easily swinging directly at the guys face. you heard the grunts and the movement from toji as he held you close.

your cheeks were flushed as you pushed him away. “close my eyes?” your cheeks puffed, eyes locked on his. “I told you stop fighting!”

toji felt his heart almost beat out of his chest as he looked at your flustered expression.

“cmon let’s go,” your hand once again easily slips into his, leading him away from the mess you didn’t bother to look it.

“you live pretty close,” toji steps into your little apartment, the door needing to be pushed a bit harder to close.

“well, it’s because the old bastard found it for me,” you spit, going over to the kitchen “needed me close by,” you pull out some bandages. toji immediately comes over grabbing the supplies from you and pulling you to sit on the couch as he kneeled on the ground. “I can do it—“

“you’ve got one hand,” he snaps back, you huff looking away with an annoyed pout. he found it pretty easy to move you around how he pleased, tying the bandage tight on your wrist, causing you to wince. “it has to be tight.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you roll your eyes again, toji looks from under his long dark lashes. you were leaning back against the couch, knees closed as your dress sat bunched up on your flush thighs, your brows furrowed—

“can you tell me now?” he’s now holding your hand gently, fingers grazing your own as he sits at your feet. his own eyes seemed to be filled with concern? your stomach swarmed with butterflies, seeing this big man on his knees—you look away.

“what part of it’s none of your business— do you not understand?” you meet his eyes again, only to see them darken. your skin felt hot, mouth dry as you licked your lips. “just because we’ve met a couple times doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“why’d you buy me food then? the motel room?” he presses.

you scoff, “i was just throwing cash.”

“you don’t look to be in a position where you can afford that kind of spending,” you roll your eyes, heat crawling up your ears from embarrassment.

“you don’t know shit, I’m an impulsive spender,” you shrug, crossing your legs.

“but can’t afford to buy yourself new shoes?” his calloused hands glide down your calve, brushing your anklet as he lifts your foot up, displaying the worn out heels.

“I couldn’t find any other ones like these…they’re my favorite,” you lie, as toji hums.

“you do look very pretty in them,” his fingers glide down your foot, his other hand pulling the shoe off. you feel your breath start to stagger. eyes wavering as you watch his hands glide to your other foot, taking off the other heel.

“have some kinda foot kink or something,” you roll your eyes, trying to calm your beating heart.

“you like cracking jokes,” he lifts your foot, placing it on his shoulder as he leans close, lips pressing against the inside of your ankle. he slowly begins to lean in, pressing wet kisses up your soft leg, until your knee was bent over his shoulder, his warm hands stroking your thighs, before they held your waist. his body pressed close to you.

“toji,” his dark green eyes never leave your own. watching your lips part just a bit as you take a deep breath, your working hand covering your face, too embarrassed to look at him.

“I thought you weren’t an escort,” he clicks his tongue.

“don’t be mean,” you look at him, his eyes still on you. “what?” you were growing more and more embarrassed.

“nothing,” he shrugs, fingers still brushing your leg, the other rubbing your side. he hasn’t even done anything, yet you felt like he was surrounding you. you’ve only known how scary it was, but it was him—and it felt okay.

“you’re looking at me like that.”

“like what?” he raised a brow.

“like, you know!” you’re growing annoyed.

“like I wanna fuck you?” your breath hitched. his grin already splitting his face, tongue swiping at his scar as he sees your stunned expression. “isn’t that what you were saying.”

“I didn’t say it like that,” you snap, embarrassed.

“that’s what you meant though,” he leans closer to you, his breath fanning close to your lips as your cheeks darken. “tell me what you meant, then.”

“i dunno,” he’s so close! your mind was scrambled. he was doing this on purpose!

“you can’t answer me now?” his lips press against your bruised cheek, his chest tight at the small wince, he moves down to your jaw kissing you again, now under your ear, your neck, your chin, your body was squirming, you’ve never experienced something like this, you couldn’t help but let your fingers move up his neck, holding the back of his head as he sucked and panted, almost laying on you.

“are you scared?” his breath was fanning against your ear. your finger still tangled in his hair, one leg hooked in his arm, but the other unconsciously spreading as it was propped up on the couch. you shake your head. “you lying?”

“I’m not,” you mumble, holding his head close, almost hugging him.

“what do you want me to do?” his tongue laps at your ear, your head tilting as you squirm.

“you’re taking advantage of me,” you mutter, toji hums.

“why do you think so?” he sucks another bruise on your neck as you whimper.

“you’re obsessed with me after I buy you a meal and give you shelter. that’s what stalkers do,” he suddenly break into a laugh.

“if I remember you pulled me to those places!” he’s laughing hysterically.

“I was being nice,” you let go of his hair, rolling your eyes.

“really?” his voice suddenly serious. you held your breath. “why did you come down that alley?”

“what do you mean?” your voice is low.

“you say you hate fighting, but you walked into an alley full of bleeding men, some dead, and yet you sat in front of me?” you look away for a moment.

“i was checking if you were alright—“

“don’t!” the sudden rise in his voice startled you. “don’t lie to me,” he calms. he looks down, your bandaged hand resting on the couch. “you saw me fighting, right?”

your chest was rising, lips parting, but you look away. your eyes were glossed over. “it doesn’t matter—“

“you wanted my help, didn’t you?” the slight hesitation in your eyes immediately told him.

“help with what?”

“just ask me,” his lips return to your cheek, lips close to your ear.

“ask what?” you sigh, struggling to hold back. your free hand was tight on his shirt.

“ask me,” he presses again, “ask,” he chants in your ear, littering your face with his feather like kisses, unbothered as he feels the small trickle of your tears kissing his lips.

is it okay? is it okay if you ask? would it be possible to see a future? to live a life instead of surviving. are you allowed too? he was scary, but you were never scared of him….

“save…me…” that’s all he needed.

“of course,” his lips crash into yours. more tears flow down your cheeks as he opens your lips for his tongue, deepening the kiss. it was so wet, his lips were desperate as he kissed you with everything. your lips parting, panting as he continued to play with your tongue, you did your best to keep up, which he found adorable. immediately understanding how skilled he was in comparison. but you didn’t care, not one fucking bit.

your eyelashes kissed your cheek as he watched you with half-lidded eyes as his tongue stuck out once he pulled away, smiling when you obediently copied him. his tongue kissed yours. your lips wet with his spit as he closed the space again. his body moving up, lips still locked with yours as you felt him moving. you pulled away to look up.

“where’re you goin?” your hand is tight on his collar.

“now you can’t let me go?” he teases, pulling his shirt off, that you hadn’t noticed had some blood on it.

“I wanna kiss some more,” you pout under your breath. his eyes snap to you, practically seeing hearts as he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you hard.

your whines are muffled as you squirm, holding his wrist. he’s slowly leaning you down on the couch only for you to push him back.

“what’re you—“ toji stops as he watches you crawl on his lap, hand stroking his cheek as you lean to kiss him. god she’s so fucking cute! he almost screams. arm wrapping around your waist as he rubs your side, hugging you as you play with him. you were absolutely drunk on this man’s lips, every few seconds you pull away to catch your breath, your thumb caressing his scar for a few moment. lips just millimeters apart so toji can just tilt his head and graze your wet lips.

your eyes almost sparkle as he sticks his tongue out waiting for you. his free hand trailing up your dress, pushing the material up so he can feel the globes of your ass, squeezing the flesh. you let his hands wander as yours stay in his hair or hold his face kissing him like there’s no tomorrow.

“you gonna let me eat ya out?” he pants, almost out of breath with how much you’re kissing him. his lips a bit swollen making them all pink, matching yours.

“want it inside me,” you kiss him again. toji raises a brow, eyes looking at you as he caresses your ass.

“what’s your experience, sweetheart?” toji mumbles, easily pulling your dress off, your hands going up to help, before quickly returning to him. your fingers touch his scar, smiling at the pinkish swell from how much you were kissing him.

“none,” you kiss his scar, sighing as you kiss it again and again as toji rocks his bulge against your clothed heat, pulling you higher up his lap as you sigh.

“then I needa open you open, pretty girl,” he grunts as he finally gets some friction after being hard the entire time you guys were making out.

“I don’t wanna,” you pull your panties off, before getting back on his lap, tongue inside his mouth as he groans, his hand moving down to cup your wet heat, his eyes almost closing at how much you were dripping.

“fuck, you’re leaking,” you whimper as he rubs his thick fingers through your folds, your lips on his cheeks panting from the subtle touches, until you pull away.

“i want you to fuck me now,” you start to unbuckle his belt, tossing it to the side, desperate to get his pants down.

“it’s gonna hurt if you don’t let me stretch you,” he holds your hand trying to slow you down. “you can’t rush this.”

“I’m not. I’ve waited forever for this,” you huff, finally getting his pants down just enough to pull his boxers down for his hefty length to spring free.

“It’ll hurt—“ your lips cut him off, again. whining on his lap as you push his pants down to his thighs but struggling. his arm wrap around your waist as he stands up. your body immediately holding him so you don’t fall. “fucking impatient,” toji grunts, kicking his last articles of clothing until he’s bare. you don’t waste a moment to latch your lips back onto him. he hums, squeezing your ass before giving it a hard spank.

“I wanna put it inside,” you whine, tugging his hair, waiting impatiently for him to sit back down.

“can’t give me a fucking please, just gonna whine like a brat?”

“ya,” you huff, licking his jaw, as he sits back on the couch facing the full length mirror. what was he expecting? every interaction you’ve had together was always a push and pull. he plops down resting his back as he holds onto your ass giving it light spank, informing you.

“let me open you,” he tries another time, but you just push his shoulders, leaning back as you stare down at his thick cock.

“ ‘s fine,” you mutter, biting your lip as you start to get jittery, toji clicks his tongue, spitting in his hand first and bringing it down to his dick. “wait I want it inside—“

“common sense baby, lemme just make it wet so it doesn’t hurt,” he cuts you, grabbing his heavy cock and stroking himself. you watch in amazement, pupils dilating at the sight of toji jerking off, his cock only growing in size, especially with how you’re looking at him (but that wasn’t to your knowledge).

“don’t cum,” you order, seeing his pants get a little heavier.

“so bossy, fucking brat,” he gives your ass a slap, letting go of his dick. “let’s see what you got,” toji looks over at the mirror behind you. watching as you lift your ass up. “don’t hurt yerself.”

“I just slip it inside?” you ask, holding his tip making him grip you tighter from the unexpected swipe you give at his leaking slit.

“ya, then just slowly sit down on it,” he holds your ass apart, eyes locked on the mirror, looking at his cock brushing your wet pussy, already leaking onto him.

“right here?” you pant gently, his tip pushing at your little hole.

“ya, right there, pretty girl,” he squeezes your ass, as you unconsciously hold your breath, trying to sit down on him. “you’re too tight,” toji grits, your eyes half lidded as you barely get his tip in.

“let me do it,” you huff, almost out of breath just by trying to push his tip in. toji spreads his legs further apart, causing your own to spread some more, gripping his shoulders for balance. he’s slowly starting to loose patience as you barely go down, only teasing his tip as you whimper in his shoulder.

“you haven’t even got the tip in,” he swears giving your ass a slap as you latch your lips onto him.

“I’m trying,” you mumble, lost in his lips to not notice his hand rubbing down your ass until he was lifting you off his tip and instead sinking in his finger. “ahh,” your body pressed forward, breath catching in your throat.

“arching your back like a good girl,” toji laughs, pumping his fingers inside you causing your voice to raise a pitch. “squeezing my fingers so tight.”

“I want your dick,” you choke out, eyes rolling back as your body moved with each pump of his fingers, his other hand caressing the arch of your back, before stroking the back of your head.

“can’t take it if you’re all tight and nervous,” he swears, hearing the squelching of your wet pussy as he fucked his fingers faster, curling them against the gummy walls.

“toji don’t wanna cu—uh! please!” your voice was breaking as you whined and moaned, drooling on his chest as your body slid to arch even more for his hand.

“such a fucking slut, you like my fingers in ya?” he groans as he turns you over so you’re laying across his lap. “lemme get a look at this dirty pussy,” he spreads your ass as you arch some more for him. his pupils dilate at the sight.

“put it in now…want it,” you whine again, only to receive a harsh slap, your body jumping as you grip the couch. “toji!” you cry, breath hitching as you feel your other orgasm coming.

“stop the fucking whining or you won’t get anything,” he leans down, burying his face behind you, tongue lapping at your drenched pussy.

“ahh! what’re you—you’re hngh ahh!” your body’s trembling as he holds your pretty ass apart, your back arching to the max as he sucks your clit into his lips. “toji!”

he hums at your cries, your legs trembling.

“like spreading your legs for me?” he laughs, pulling away to watch your whines grow louder, you had absolutely no control in your voice. “too dumb to use your words?”

“you’re so annoying!” you huff, cheek pressing against the couch as you look back at him, brows pinched together — he could almost faint at how adorable you looked. instead he opted to give your pussy a harsh slap. your eyes rolling back as you yelped.

“what’d you say?” he waits for your reply as you catch your breath.

“said…” you’re panting. “said….you’re being a fucking….prick,” tears swell in your eyes at the slap. he was impressed you didn’t stutter. your body was burning as you unconsciously arched some more allowing him to get better access to your glistening pussy.

“dirty fucking girl,” he pulls your cheeks apart, tongue swiping at his scar as he leans down, spitting directly on your pussy causing you to moan. “so cute,” he couldn’t stop the words from slipping past his lips. especially with your pretty pussy shaking at the feeling of his spit sliding inside you. he easily dove back in, fingers pumping another orgasm from you.

“toj—jiii uh uh pleaseee,” you’re squirming as you cream around his fingers, desperately trying to catch your breath as you feel his lips latch back onto your heat licking you up.

“what is it, babygirl?” you’re trying to twist around, arm extending out for him as you lay on your side. “so needy,” he cooes, huge body crawling up allowing your arms to wrap around his shoulders pulling him down to your lips.

you hum in satisfaction, eyes fluttering as you play with his tongue. you’ve never tasted yourself, but his lips and chin and even nose was drenched in you. you’re hugging him close, whining in his mouth as his teeth bite down on your bottom lip.

“think you can take me now?” he swipes his cock between your folds, teasing your clit as he grips your jaw. “gonna be a good girl?”

“I’m always good,” you reply, tongue hanging out for him which he follows for his thumb to glide inside your mouth, rubbing down on your tongue.

“are you know? where’d you get that idea?” he taunts, his dark green eyes following the movement of your lips enclosing around his thumb. you were humming, practically purring when his other hand caressed your cheek. “fuck me,” he shivers at your confident submission.

your eyes flutter arms resting on the couch over your head, pretty tits nice a perky for him. toji pulls his thumb out, holding your chin as he pulls your lip down, lolling your tongue out. he hums in satisfaction, tilting your head up as he lits a glob of spit fall into your mouth.

your cheeks burst, eyes closing as you audibly whimper. he easily manhandles your body so you were folded in half, pumping his dick aggressively as he watches you swallow his spit in time to feel him pushing his tip inside your tight leaking hole.

“ah fuck, you’re still tight,” your back arches, head thrown back as he pushes inside you, your eyes rolling back. “fuck,” toji laps at your perky nipples, latching his lips as you suddenly start panting, hands pulling his face.

“wai—wait! ahh uh toji! wait!” your eyes are filled with tears and your face is burning with embarrassment at the reaction to him barely inside you.

“you were begging for it, and now you’re crying about the tip?” he grunts pushing further in, his hands planted on the couch beside your head, your legs over his shoulders as you hold his face.

“it’s—ah!” your lashes flutter, lips parting as drool slips out. “kiss me,” your wish was his command. his lips crash into yours, swallowing your pathetic little cries. fingers digging in his hair as pulls his hips back, and slamming them back in. he feels your tears coat his face as he slowly but surely pushes his hefty cock into your squelching cunt.

“did ya just cum, pretty?” he pulls away as you shiver, burying your face in his neck as you cry. your lips pressed open mouthed kisses. you were squeezing him so fucking well.

“more, want more,” you babble, and surely you feel your body being hoisted as he sits upright, turning you around and hooking his arms under your legs. he easily picks up up, standing as his dick goes back in and starts thrusting into your drenched cunt.

“this what you want?” he groans as you grab at his forearms, nails digging into his flesh as your moans get higher and higher with each snap of his hips. “you lookin at yourself, pretty?” his lips press against your ear, watching your eyes flutter open to look at the mirror in front of you.

“to—oji—“ your face flushes as he moves closer, fucking you in front of the mirror watching your glistening pussy suck in his fat dick as your juices flowed down his balls and thighs. you turned your face, looking away.

“what’s wrong, getting shy now?” he clicks his tongue, leaning to bite your cheek, unbothered as he easily handles you to lift you up and down his impressive size.

“ahhh! ji—ung uhh—“ you could no longer form words, growing dumber and dumber as the sounds of his cock squelching inside your wet insides sent your mind fuzzy.

you couldn’t open your eyes, you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it if your eyes open. toji raised a brow as you moaned and cried in his neck.

“sweetheart,” your breath hitched as you felt him lift you higher, his tip just barely inside you as he fully pulled out. “open your eyes!” he accentuates his final words by dropping your entire weight down and pushing his full entire length inside you.

“ahhhhh!” your scream pierced the air as you immediately felt your insides snap.

“shit,” toji is laughing in your ear as he doesn’t stop his movements, arms flexing as his fingers dig into your under thighs. “who knew you were a squirter,” your eyes are blurry from your tears. “do it again,” he commands, “and watch closely this time,” his voice was deep it sent shivers down your spine as you tried to blink the tears away to look.

“your little hole is all red from how much I’m moving in and out, see,” your eyes look at the mirror at where you’re connected. and of course, your pussy hole was red. “taking my dick like a big girl,” he grins, as you flush at his words. “squeezing me whenever I bottom out, inside you princess.”

just as he bottoms out again, your pussy unconsciously squeezes him earning a shit eating grin from him. “see? you’re pretty cute sucking me in,” he cooes in your ear as you squeeze his arms. “so shameless shaking your pussy for me earlier,” he clicks his tongue. “it’d be a shame if I didn’t show you how cute this little cunt is.”

“hhngh—ahh don’t wanna see—“ you whimper, too overstimulated by his words as you pant, tears running down your flushed cheeks. this feels so good! “ ‘s —ahhh deep— filling me up!”

“ungh fuckk—“ toji groans, jaw clenching as he feels your pussy squeezing him unbelievably tight. “you really like this mirror thing, huh?”

“ngh! ahhhh oji—uhhh, uh uh—“ you’re eyes are crossing as you drool feeling your body build up, you felt him deep in your insides kissing your cervix harshly ; you were going to pass out.

with another snap of his hips, you felt him so deep your body snapped, back arching away from his chest as your pussy squirted.

“hngh!” toji audibly groans, unexpectedly shooting his heavy thick load inside you. you’re clenching his cock, panting as you whimper.

“fuck,” he bites at your shoulder, muffling his groans as he spurts more and more cum deep inside you. “fucking squeezing me to death, pretty girl,” he pants, your head turning as your hand comes up to his cheek, moving his face to meet your lips.

his body immediately melts, still holding you up as you devour his lips. moaning and shaking as his cum slides down his cock to his frothy base of cream. the mirror dirty from your own surprised squirt.

you don’t even feel him sitting back on the couch until he’s picking you up to turn you around, only for his load to slide out of your swollen pussy. your eyes cross as he pushes back inside you once your facing him, legs on top his thighs as you lift your body up.

“there ya go, keep going, pretty angel.” his head falls back, relaxing his muscles for a moment as he slaps your pretty ass.

“good—‘s good toji—feels uh uh uh—“ your nails dig into his shoulders as you ride his big cock, pat pat pat the sounds in the small apartment were lewd. squelching and unbothered with making a bigger mess as more of him spilled out the faster you tried to bounce.

“so much stamina, good girl,” he spreads your ass watching your back arch into his chest as you bite his neck, arms circling his neck as you kiss him some more.

“toji,” you pant into his lips, it was the only thing you could think of, the only thing you could say, the only thing you wanted—toji!

he was suddenly pounding into you from behind. you didn’t even remember him moving to the bedroom. kneeling behind your ass he ruts into you. your grip tight around the sheets as it soaked your dumb tears.

“making a mess, ungh cumming everywhere,” toji grunts, slapping your ass as you fuck your hips back into his. “squirting on the mirror, the couch,” he grunts, head tilting back. “good fucking girl—fuck!—gonna fuck you all night,” he leans over your body, hand holding yours as he kisses your cute flushed cheek full of tears.

“toji! wan’ more cumm—ah—“ you’re just babbling at this point, nothing coherent anymore as toji feels his stomach constrict, kissing your cheek and sweaty shoulder as he starts moaning loudly.

“fucking you dumb, can’t even finish yer sentence, huh?” your eyes roll back at his filthy words. it’s been hours of fucking you, he was surprised how long he was going for as his body tingled from the overstimulation. but you were just doing so fucking good for him, he can’t remember the last time he’s had such a good fucking girl.

“shit, you can still squirt, baby,” toji breaks composure for a moment as he feels you gushing around him. “I’m gonna spill everything—hngh—“ a loud strangled moan escapes his lips as he buries his face in your shoulder; his thrusts get sloppy feeling him twitch deep inside you, until you felt a load of warmth swell in your belly.

“uh shit pretty—take it all,” he groans with each broken thrust, ignoring the shivering of his own body as you whine. panting uncontrollably.

you’re body is limp as toji continues to shove his hips into you, his big cock still spurting his heavy seed inside your abused hole. your hand comes up, running through his hair as you lead him to your lips.

“shit baby,” he sighs against your lips. completely out of breath as you kiss him, his own moans slipping inside your lips from the aftershocks. your lips are sloppy as drool runs down your chin. you were so ruined. his body shivers as he feels you clench around him, his hand instinctively comes to your hips halting your movements. “one sec, baby,” his eyes close for moment, chest rising as he’s hovered behind you. his lips agape as you stroke his face.

toji carefully pulls out, a whine leaving your pretty lips as he inches out, his cum oozing out as he falls to the side. your body trembles at being empty again, now so used to the feeling of him inside you, your body was clawing for him again. he’s unbothered as he wraps a strong arm around your torso completely, pulling you into his side as your arms circle his neck, littering his face with kisses. his body completely sinking into the mattress as he allowed you to do as you pleased.

“stay with me,” your voice was hoarse, the night of screaming and whining finally scratching at your throat as you pant softly. his rough hand gently caressing up and down your back. his broad chest, rising n falling as he laid on his back, your body leaning over his.

“you’ve gotten so needy, pretty,” he teases, free hand coming up to hold your cheek. your eyes half lidded, so completely exhausted, as he gently pulls you to his lips again. the kiss much softer, as he brushes his thumb across your cheek, feeling the damp tears. “i promise.”

his body was so warm, the cold apartment suddenly felt cozy, his embrace was reassuring. before you knew it, you were drifting off to sleep.

the memories of the night were printed in your mind. so when the sunlight spilled into the small bedroom, the first instinct was to reach an arm beside you.

“to…ji?” your voice groggy as you rolled to your side, rubbing your face in the pillow, opening your eyes. “toji?” was he using the bathroom?

you sat quietly. if you moved it will be real. no…just stay here for a little while longer. just hold onto to last night for a little bit more…..no….don’t cry…..your teeth pierced the skin of your trembling lip, scratching at your cheeks, no you weren’t crying!

he wasn’t different. how could he be?

“y/n, table 7 is asking for you!” the diner manager snaps. you can’t even respond as you move over to table 7. the day moving how it should always. from the first job to the next and the next and the next. no sign of him. it’s for the better. one night is better than anything you could’ve asked for….yes…you should be grateful. stop complaining, y/n. at least you’re alive…..

“huh,” your movements halted. the hostess club was closed, policemen and ambulances surrounding the block…. “what’s going on?” you ask one of the hostesses.

“I don’t know, but they’re saying they’re all dead!” she freaks, hand over her mouth in disbelief.

“what? who?” your heart was beating in your ears.

“the boss! all his men!”

your body froze. what….what’s going on? was it…? no! it couldn’t…. save me…. the words were flooding back to your head. did you let this happen? was it your fault that they’re dead…no, he wouldn’t—

your eyes freeze, because there he was. shoving random shit from your room inside the duffle bag in the middle of your apartment. the sound of the front door slamming behind you, immediately grabbed his attention.

“where the fuck were you?” he snaps, but he stops noticing your pinched brows, and trembling hand. “wh—“

who cares? fuck it.

so your body moved. running across the room and jumping into his arms. toji stumbled back, holding you up in surprise. your legs wrapped around his torso.

“you said you wouldn’t fucking leave! asshole!” you yell, causing the man to wince.

“shit baby, don’t fucking yell in my ear—“ your lips cut his shouts.

“fuck you,” you wipe your tears, toji humming as he brushes your cheek as well. you can’t help but kiss him again.

“what is it now?” he rolls his eyes, waiting to hear it.

“I said no more fighting,” toji meets your eyes. you know…

“it was a last goodbye,” he grins, watching you reciprocate the same one, wiping the last of your stupid ass tears. god, how much you hated crying.

“what now?” you hold his face, wiping the dried blood on his forehead.

“we’re leaving.”

“Is it that easy?” you raise a brow. toji winks.

“yes, that easy. I am a master a my job. we don’t have to leave if you really like it here—“

“no!” you stop him. “I wanna leave!” you say eagerly.

this was it. the only thing you needed was him. and he knew it so fucking well, that he couldn’t care about anything else other than you. so he pulls you to his lips and mutters so surely….

where to?

omfg!! the way this fic took me a fcking century to finish cuz uni started! sorry for the wait guys :’)

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