°❀.ೃ࿔hibana°❀.ೃ࿔

i like to write sometimes :)

[hibiscript]

°❀.ೃ࿔*welcome to the fifth's pharmacy°❀.ೃ࿔*

‧˚❀༉‧₊˚. hibi ⊹ ࣪ ˖ twentyone, she/her, bi, afro-latina‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

prescribing ~ mostly nsfw jjk drabbles, oneshots, headcannons, and fiics

✿˖𓍢ִ❀ requests closed 𓍢ִ✿˖𓍢ִ❀

⋆⭒˚.⋆ my husband specialty rx ⋆⭒˚.⋆ nanami, higuruma, choso, dadaman toji⋆⭒˚.⋆

MDNI!! this is a nsfw blog, interact and you will be blocked.

© 2026 hibiscript. all work belongs to @hibiscript

[hunnismokah]

morning YAWWWNNNN

[hibiscript]

pull up on me drop that double dih AWWWFFFF😈🙏🏾😼

[mrsblaileen]

You’ve worn your boyfriend Sukuna to the bone, so your other boyfriend Toji takes over.

warnings. fem!reader/tojikuna, threesome, multiple orgasms, piv, kissing, creampie, overstim, ovulation, switch!toji if you squint, dom!sukuna. nsfw 18+ mdni.

──── ୨୧ ────

The first thing Toji noticed when he stepped through the front door was the heat. A subtle humidity lacing the air like the sweet lingering remnants of perfume. There was your lotion, sweet and familiar, and the smell of fresh sweat, layered with something primal and musky - the smell of sex.

The second thing he noticed was Sukuna, splayed over the couch like he’d just run a marathon. Tank top soaked through and sweatpants riddled with little damp patches, dotted across the fabric like stray petals. Toji’s gaze dipped without bothering to hide the way he was blatantly staring at Sukuna’s chest, at the heaving pecs peeking out from his neckline, eyes tracking the little bead of sweat beginning to trail a hot path down the center.

“What’s your problem?” Came Toji’s eventual greeting as he paused by the door, tearing his eyes away just to sling his gym bag over the hook there before continuing into the room, water bottle clasped in his hand.

Sukuna glared in reply, and if Toji were anyone else he might have actually felt intimidated by the sight. But with the way the other man was panting, pink tufts of hair stuck every which way and slicked with sweat, he didn’t paint a particularly scary image. In fact the only sensation the sight triggered within Toji was a mild amusement, alongside a tiny spark of heat low and betraying in his belly.

“I’ve already had her four times,” Sukuna grunted, “the brats insatiable.”

Toji snorted mid sip of water, eyes leaving the couch to instead peer through the half opened doorway to the bedroom, where he managed to catch only a glimpse of your bare leg through the crack. From the looks of it you were naked - splayed over the sheets, hair probably still a little damp from the shower, skin lacquered with lotion, half washed away with sweat by now.

“What, she ovulating or something?” Toji wondered aloud, lowering the bottle to once again catch Sukuna’s gaze over the metal rim.

The other man crossed his arms unceremoniously across his chest, and Toji watched the tendons jump in the winding muscle of his forearms as he shrugged.

“That or she’s in heat, damn near milked me dry.” He grumbled, brows knitted, working a mean line between them. If you were here you’d reprimand him for such an expression, crawl over the couch and run your thumb between his salmon brows until the lines wore smooth, or until Sukuna grew bored and wrapped a hand around your wrist to flip you onto the cushions instead.

Toji laughed then, the sound rough and graveled like tattered velvet.

“Seriously?” He scoffed, lips spread into a sly grin as he licked stray droplets from them, “had to tap out did ya’ Ryomen?”

Sukuna’s scowl only deepened, soured now with genuine irritation.

“Just be grateful I wore her out for you,” he spat, “and watch your tone, or it’ll be you spread eagle and whining for more cock next, Fushiguro.”

Toji chuckled again as he screwed the lid of his bottle on tight, the motion accented with a metallic ‘squeak!’ before he tossed it toward Sukuna, hard enough that he heard the fleshy impact when the other man’s hand shot out to catch it.

“Yeah yeah,” he mused, moving past the couch to instead push through the bedroom door, which creaked beneath the effort, “drink some fuckin’ water and get outta my way.”

If he were being honest, when he’d left for the gym that morning he’d been hoping for this exact scenario. Toji knew you - or at least your cycle - well enough to know that you’d wake up needy and leaking, and he knew Sukuna well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to resist the sight of you humping his thigh like a dog in heat for very long. So he’d left without a word just as the sun kissed the horizon, and he’d been half hard in his sweats since his second rep just thinking about it.

If the living room was warm, the air within the bedroom was stifling. But it wasn’t the heat or the sticky sweet scent that knocked the air from Toji’s lungs on entry, no. It was the sight of you - limbs splayed over the mattress, hair messed and wild where your head was tucked between the pillows. Your jaw lifted back far enough to expose the long column of your throat, giving Toji a stellar view of the dark sucking marks peppered there, indents of teeth that he was sure would melt into bruises by the evening.

Toji took in the sight indulgently - paused in the doorway, a lone hand already trailing its way down the curve of his stomach, teasing until his fingers curled over the bulge forming there. He squeezed once and shivered, reveling in the immediate relief that sizzled over his body like a splash of ice water.

He could feel the weight of Sukuna’s gaze piercing into the back of his skull like the promise of a snipers sight. He didn’t indulge the urge to peer over his shoulder and meet that heated gaze, instead he let his hand drop to his side and pressed a knee into the mattress.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak or even open your eyes when he crawled over the sheets, crowding your space like a panther sliding atop its snagged prey.

His hand met the curve of your waist, skin soft and warm beneath his palm, layer of sweat sticking you lightly to him. He trailed one hand downward over the curve of your belly, the other grazed feather-soft over the slopes of your breasts, pausing to pinch gently at either nipple, perked and willing in his hands.

“You’re soaked sweetheart,” he mused when his fingers finally dipped between your thighs, which gave way to him easily, spreading to make room for his forearm to slot between. He moved slowly, palming soft and teasing over your mound and listening to you mumble mindlessly below him.

You whined something unintelligible in reply, voice nothing but a high pitched whimper, crackled like shattered glass.

With a chuckle, he leaned down and craned his head until his ear rested level with your mouth.

“What’s that sweetheart?” He questioned, head tilted to listen.

You swallowed, hard and dry, and licked your lips before you spoke again. Another croaked string of words hit his ear, a touch clearer this time. He realized then that you weren’t mumbling gibberish at all, you were begging.

“More, more, need more, please ‘kuna, please jus’ one more…”

Toji chuckled and lifted his head back to study you again - he found your eyes still closed, brows now knitted into an expression that was decidedly desperate.

“Old Ryo’ couldn’t keep up, huh?” He mused, hands lifted from your body to instead press into the mattress either side of your head, leveraging the weight of him as he slotted himself properly between your thighs.

You offered a gentle huff in reply, eyelids feeling much to heavy to bother opening. Your limbs felt numb, tingling with residual little sizzles of pleasure.

“Don’t worry doll, ‘m here now.”

Toji didn’t waste time working you open or teasing you with the brush of his lips or gentle caresses, no. He simply slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it sideways. His thumb hooked over his waistband, tugged down to let his length spring free and slap hard and raw against you.

The sensation was enough to have his lips parting around a shuddered breath. You felt like heaven - like slick molten silk kissing each bumped ridge as he rutted through your swollen folds. You jolted when he shifted, hard inches rubbing over your clit, still singing with over stimulation.

He grinned and lowered a thumb to pet at your entrance, leaking slick and dribbles of what he was sure was Sukuna’s spend. He traced your rim beneath the head of his cock slowly, smearing the milky little pearls gathered there and wondering just how many loads Sukuna had managed to stuff inside you before he’d finally tapped out. The thought made his breath catch, and sent another sizzle of heat straight to his throbbing cock.

“C’mon, look at me now,” Toji cooed, watching the way any semblance of coherency on your face melted away when he finally pressed down, sinking inside with a single dizzying press of his hips - testament to just how soaked and used you really were.

It was enough to make your eyes roll behind your lids, fluttering with the delicious sting of being stretched open again. Toji treated you with shallow little thrusts. The hair at his base tickling your clit, thick veins pulsing against your rubbed raw walls where Sukuna had pounded you until you cried, until you bruised. And yet despite the pain, the ache - that needling little bud of desire still burned just as hotly as when you’d first awoken that day, stoking the fire in your belly and dribbling lava hot between your aching thighs.

“Oh, oh…” you moaned dumbly, lashes twitching as you finally lifted them and tried to blink away the layer of hazy film that had settled there. Your mind felt fuzzy, vacant. Drunk on the sensation of being stuffed utterly full once again.

“There she is,” Toji soothed.

“‘Ji, it’s you…” came your delayed greeting, nothing more than a breathy whine, “need’t cum, need to cum again, please…”

“Again?” Toji echoed in faux surprise, hips lowing to a torturous roll, “that’s a little greedy of you, don’t you think?”

“Incredibly greedy,” a distant voice interrupted, flat and deep and utterly serious.

Toji tilted his head back just enough to catch sight of Sukuna’s broad form filling the doorway, looking more like the hired security than someone who actually lived there. Toji peered through strands of ink black hair at the big hand that was beginning to dip beneath the waistband of Sukuna’s sweats, palming lazily at the considerable bulge there. Sukuna’s gaze was equally heavy and heated, lowered past the curve of Toji’s spine to track the way your hole was stretching around his thickness.

Toji swallowed, took a final glance at the sight of Sukuna beginning to work his length free from his boxers. His eyes stuck on the exposed slip of tan skin where Sukuna had tugged his shirt upward, the spatter of hair dusted there, before he turned his attention back to you.

“Haven’t even asked how my day was yet, and here you are begging me to make this needy pussy cum,” Toji teased, “and after Ryo’ took such good care of you too.”

“Please,” you cried, shaking your head furiously against the damp pillows crumpled either side of you, “please don’t tease me.”

“Aw I’m sorry sweetheart,” Toji cooed, voice dripping thick with mock concern, “you just need it real bad, huh?”

The delicate shallow thrusts he had been nursing you with suddenly shifted, turned to long pulls smacked back inside hard enough that you felt the tip of him kiss somewhere deep and delicate. Each buck had your legs quivering, and a sharp little shock of pain and pleasure in equal measure sizzling over your skin.

You were lucid enough only to know that he was moving, slow methodical thrusts that felt achingly tender. Each twitch of his worked muscle was purposeful, each motion entirely controlled and aimed to break you apart.

“Shh, just feel it. You feel me, right baby? Nice ‘n deep.” The words were sin incarnate, purred right into your ear.

You were nodding before you could think, slurring a string of unintelligible words alongside breathy cries of his name, strung together like a prayer.

“Deep… deeper…”

The scent of him was intoxicating, dizzying. The sharp sting of fresh sweat and his own familiar woody musk was enough to have you lifting your trembling legs just to hook a heel over his hip and tug him closer.

“Finally knocked all the brains outta you, huh?” Toji teased, “That’s alright, don’t need to think. Just keep squeezin’ this pretty little pussy around me, yeah?”

One of your hands fled the sheets to instead grasp at one of Toji’s bare shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there.

“Kiss me,” you panted, blinking up at him with wide wet eyes, blown black and glossy with need, “oh, hng-… please Toji…”

Toji didn’t bother with a reply, instead he simply dipped his head and captured your lips in a kiss so sudden you barely had the wherewithal to suck in a lungful of air before he was swiping any lingering thoughts away with the hot slide of his tongue.

You melted into the touch, letting the roll of his jaw guide your movements - moaning in surprise when his teeth nipped at your cracked lower lip, your grip on his shoulder tightening when his tongue met yours.

When you finally split apart you were sufficiently softened by the blend of his sweet kisses and the steady rock of his hips, brain humming quietly like the static of a tv set to a dead channel.

“Good?” Toji questioned, head tilting.

You just nodded, struggling to keep you gaze affixed on the inky strands of hair slipping over Toji’s forehead, that was until a sudden blur of colour crept into the edge of your vision.

“Oi, what are you?-…”

You watched, motion a little delayed, as Sukuna’s hand slid across the back of Toji’s neck. Toji’s eyes widened an inch, looking genuinely shocked for just a moment before Sukuna’s grip tightened, firm hand forcing his head upward until they finally met in a rough crashing of lips.

Peering up you simply watched, entranced, at the slide of pink tongue between sticky sweet flutters of your lashes. Eyes caught on the way Toji’s brows lifted and his hips stuttered just a little when Sukuna’s hand tightened into a fist at his nape, strands of silky black hair sticking wayward through his thick fingers.

Toji grunted into the kiss, rougher now - a tumble of teeth and tongue in stark contrast to the slow rhythm of the embrace you had shared. One of Toji’s hands curled over your hip, thumb mindlessly tracing the bone there. The other found Sukuna’s chest, grasping a handful of fabric before he was shoving the other man backwards.

You watched a glittering thread of spit link them for a moment before it split, and you must have clenched at the obscene sight because Toji made a choked sound above you, falling into the sensation a little like he were suddenly made of jelly.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he panted, lips glossed as he dug a fist into the mattress beside your head, “that’s it, just like that.”

His thrusts didn’t slow or soften, but they felt sloppier somehow, and when you blinked upward you realized why. Sukuna had stepped in behind Toji, plump chest pressed to his back, massive hand still curled around his nape, thumb rubbing soothing little shapes there. His head turned inward, lips pressed to the delicate little strip behind Toji’s ear, breathing so close you could see the speckle of goosebumps begin to prickle over Toji’s skin.

“C’mon Fushiguro,” Sukuna purred, quiet enough that you could barely hear the sweet syrupy words, “don’t get soft on me now.”

Dazed, you watched Sukuna raise a spare hand to his lips, thumb pressed against tongue beneath the glint of pearly canines before he reached past Toji’s hips and tucked it between your thighs. You jerked at the sudden contact, the searing heat of his slick thumb, calloused and rough and perfect against your abused clit.

“Bastard…” Toji gritted, breaths coming ragged now, panting between barely masked grunts of pleasure as his head dipped beneath the weight of the palm at his nape. His gaze was glassy, glued to where you were clamping around him, where your slick was painting the dark curls at his belly white.

Sukuna only grinned in reply, and you could hear the lazy glee lacing his tone with his next words, thumb still rolling over your twitching nub as you writhed beneath his touch.

“Go on now,” he rumbled, low and filthy over the shell of Toji’s ear, and you swore you felt Toji twitch in response. “make the pretty girl cum.”

You could feel it, the looming buzz of your orgasm, curling like the crest of a wave, hot and tight in your belly like the slow cinching of a knot.

“Close ‘ji…’m close,” you slurred, “gonna… hn!- ‘m gonna…”

“I’m right here sweetheart,” Toji was groaning now, shivering a little as the hand at his nape tightened once more. His thrusts were wild - wide sloppy pumps driven haphazardly into the slick mess between your thighs. Sukuna’s thumb continued its assault, drawing steady heart shapes over your clit, right above where Toji was busy splitting you open.

“C’mon princess,” Toji pleaded, words accented with a kicking throb that you felt all the way in your gut, “give it to me.”

You let your eyelids fall shut, squeezed tightly against the way your vision was beginning to blur at the edges. Senses dulled, sounds and scents becoming more and more distant with each second of rising pleasure until suddenly the knot snapped, and you were unraveling along with it.

Toji cursed somewhere beyond the numbed blackness of your senses, and alongside it you felt a flood of heat and the familiar twitching pulse of him as he filled you. Firm hands gripped your waist like an anchor, holding you in place as you squirmed against his final stuttered humps, wracked with unending wave after wave of white hot pleasure.

“Shh, that’s it, that’s a good girl…” Toji was cooing into your ear, forehead pressed to the pillow, only hair tickling your cheek.

The words were a salve, a balm smoothed over your mind until all that was left was the honeyed buzz of pleasure.

You sucked in a shaky breath and realized along with it that you were crying, cheeks soaked and salted with fresh tears. You let your limbs fall, limp and exhausted against the sheets. A subtle ache was beginning to settle in your muscles, in your bones, and yet beneath it all you still felt it - that itch deep inside, like an unending, desirous pit.

“More…” you croaked, voice utterly broken despite your pleading.

Toji scoffed somewhere above you - sounding equal parts shocked and proud at your incessant appetite. You heard the distant thump of approaching footfalls, followed by the telltale creak of a knee digging into the mattress before the bed was dipping beneath a considerable weight, and you felt Toji slip out with a slick sucking sound.

“Move Fushiguro, think I just got my second wind.”

────────────────

a/n: kinda ahhh drabble while I work on longer fics bc I’m stuck thinking about tojikuna, hope you enjoy anyway <3

[hibiscript]

wait cs like involve me hella

[hibiscript]

all i need

stoner!choso x stoner!reader / art by @:einruji07 twt

synopsis: you haven't seen your best friend all semester, so when you both finally get together and spark up, other things spark between you two?

mndi! (18+): smut, fluff, porn w light plot, oral (f receiving), elicit drugs, drug use, slightly subby choso, CHOSO WHIMPERS!?!?!, teasing, light banter, horny h!gh, love confession, making out, not slow burn AT ALL lmao, you know the vibes

°❀.࿔ word count °❀.࿔ : 1.8k

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆

“cho im so excited, we haven’t done this in soooo long”. you say while sparking up and walking towards the balcony in your room.

“me toooo, i did NOT think my t-break was going to be that long but its finally over.” he says while calmly finding a spot next to you on the floor by the balcony.

“did you bring your own or did you want to just pass back n forth?” you asked slightly turning your head to your best friend and taking a hit of your j.

he turns his head toward you making direct eye contact, “nah, i wanna pass like we used too. but i did bring extra so we can smoke more if we need to.”

your eyes light up, PERF CHO YOU KNOW ME SAUR WELL, you say while having the widest grin on your face and leaning over to hug him.

he chuckles and hug you back, “okay okay i wanna smoke you’re hogging the j, he says while playfully rolling his eyes.

“HERE DAMN”, you say while rolling your eyes and shoving the j towards him.

“oh don’t be like that you know i love your hugs”, he chuckles again and takes a deep inhale of the j between his fingers.

“yeah yeah whatever, why’d you end up going on your t-break for so long again?” you say while you turn so your whole body is facing him.

he passed the joint back to you, “hmm honestly at first it was just to focus on school because finals were coming up, but i guess i got used to it and you were always busy so i didn’t want to smoke with someone else.”

you take another hit, “omg cho i’m sppeeciallll,” you say with the cheesiest grin ear to ear, passing it back to him.

“well of course,” he tilts his head at you and smiles while taking another hit.

you shuffle on the floor a bit to lay your head on choso’s lap, “you know why i was busy cho, between work and classes i was always exhausted. hell i barely smoked myself or even saw anyone at that.”

“yeah i know, im just glad we’re on break so we can actually hang out again i missed you.” he looked down at you in his lap while passing the joint back.

“me tooo cho, you’re the only one who understands me and my social battery never goes out when i’m with you. it’s nice it just feels like i can be myself at all times,” you say like taking a hit and passing it back.

“i feel the same exact way”, he says while leaning back on the carpet with one arm.

~innnnnhaaalleeeee~

you look up at choso, “CHO that was a big fucking hit you might as well keep that one since you wanna hog it,” you say half joking and half serious.

“fuck, i’m high as shit,” he smiles down at you with hazy eyes.

“oh ur cooked, give me my joint back ur done!” you say while reach up towards him.

“uh uh i got it,” he takes the joint out of his mouth and puts it between his index and middle finger while reaching down to your mouth, pressing the joint against your lips.

~innhalleee~

“cho i got it, i can hold it,” you say playfully while reaching for your joint.

“nah i got it i just want to watch you, let me know when you wanna take another hit.”

*badump*

“omg, that was so fucking hot,” you thought to yourself in your head. you always thought your secret crush on your best friend went away a long time ago but when he does stuff like this you get reminded of the feelings you pushed down many years ago.

“yeah, you like that?” he says while smirking at you.

“huh, what are you talking about cho?,” you look up at him with confusion all while your mind is racing with thoughts of your best friend.

“you thought what i did was hot, no?” he stares down at you in confusion

nonononono this can’t be happening not today.

“i said that out loud?,” your jaw flings open with shock.

“mhm hmm, loud n clear”, he smiles down at you again.

you slam your hands on your face to hide your embarrassment, “i need another hit now, im not high enough,” you say muffled by your hands.

you suddenly feel two hands prying your hands off your face.

“don’t be embarrassed, why do you think i did it in the first place.” he says softly while making direct eye contact with you.

“cho” you say looking up at him with wide eyes.

he takes a deep exhale,“i may be high rn but in all honesty i’ve always liked you, your smile, your laugh, your hugs, your personality, your heart, everything it’s always been you and i never knew how to tell you.

“cho are you serious rn,” your heart starts racing.

“yes, and i promise it’s not just because im high ive been wanting to tell you for a while but we never got to see each other in person,” he says while brushing your cheek lightly with his hand.

“please pinch me,” you say stunned.

he chuckles, “what are you talking about.”

“i have to make sure this isn’t a dream, because that would mean my dream is coming true.” you say gently while staring up at him with your eyes wide.

“hmm okie”, choso leans down and kisses you gently. “does that work as a pinch?”

“mmmmm i don’t knowww i think im still dreaming maybe one more.”

choso leans down again cupping your face with both of his hands, pressing his lips into yours.

kissing him this time felt different, it was even longer and slower. and after lapping his lips over yours you feel a slight tug at your bottom lip from his teeth as he pulls away from the kiss.

“talk to me”, he say quietly while looking down at you with loving eyes.

“this is definitely not a dream,” you say with a small smile and your face heating up.

“nope,” he says while popping his “p”.

“cho i’ve been wanting you for so long you don’t understand how happy i am right now.”

“yeah, you want me?”

“yes choso.”

“let’s do something about that”, he says while pulling you up into his lap.

your legs are straddling over his leg and you wrap your arms around his neck and passionately kiss him. he reaches down and wraps his arms tightly around your waist pulling you in closer.

“open”, he mutters while parting the kiss for a second. you listen and opened up your mouth a little more. he gently slid his tongue inside your mouth making out with you intimately, gripping your waist tightly.

“haa-fuck”, you moaned into his mouth while your tongues wrestled with eachother.

“how long-haa have you liked me baby, he groans into your mouth kissing you deeper.

“shoo long cho-ahh fuc- so long”, you say while reaching your hands to cup his face bringing him back in closer.

he parts the kiss and looks you up and down, “hm im glad i wasn’t the only one,” he says while brushing his thumb over your lightly swollen lips.

you reach your arms back around his neck, “how long have you liked me cho,” you say with innocent eyes filled with curiosity and lust.

“lemme show you”, he leans all the back so he’s laying on the floor. “come sit on my face princess”.

“cho i haven’t even had the chance to shower today”

“even better, please come sit on my face i wanna taste you,” he whines out.

before you can answer he grips into the sides of your waist tugging on your shorts

“please”, choso whimpers out in a whisper

instead of answering you place your hands on top of his and tugged your shorts and panties off

“you’re perfect”, choso says, laying down while pulling your legs up towards his face. “and so is she.”

before you could even say anything choso’s whole mouth is covering your pussy lapping his tongue up and down between your folds

“haa- holy shi- cho this feels so fucking good”, you moan out gripping into his hair and riding his face

“yeah princess you like that, been waiting so fucking long to get a taste of you” he says right before parting from your warmth and spitting right on your clit before he buries his face deeper into your cunt.

you start grinding against his tongue even harder chasing your release

“fuckkk yeah baby just like that use my tongue, i wanna see you get off on me”

“cho i can’t haa- please hel- ahhh help me”, you spat out while desperately thrusting your hip while losing stamina

“i’ve got you princess haaa- come on my tongue”. choso saying while flattening his tongue and moving his head back and forth to help you finish.

“shiiiii- cho hic- im cominggg fuck”, you say while your release comes crashing over you.

panting and out of breath you try to move your body off his face and suddenly you feel a tight grip fastening over your thighs keeping you in place

“nuh uh i’m not done cleaning you up”, choso says muffled from being deep into your cunt licking up every last bit of your come.

“huuu fuckkk cho please s’ too much”, you say while throwing your head back on the borderline of being overstimulated.

“mmmh taste so fucking good”, he says while ignoring your cries trying to lick up all of your slick.

he swiftly moves your hips down from his face and starts to get up off the floor while picking you up and walking towards the bed.

you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. you don’t say much of anything because you’re still out of breath from your climax so you quietly nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck.

choso lays down on the bed with you and wraps a big blanket around your half naked body.

“wait what about you cho, you didn’t come and you’re still hard?” you say whipping your head up and making direct eye contact with him.

“don’t worry about me baby it’ll go down, this is all i need right now”. he says while holding you closer and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

a/n: CHILE that writers block almost took me out!! soz if this is lowk buns i had to get it off my chest and finish it so i can work on my other fics🫰🏾 (i swear i don’t only write stoner fics it was just my hyper fixation at the time 🫡)

2026 © hibiscript, all rights reserved (excluding jjk characters) @hibiscript.

[miisbehaved]

STARGIIRL!

feat quarterback!toji x camgirl chem partner!reader

summary: Toji Fushiguro considers himself a very generous man, especially after using part of his D1 quarterback paycheck towards his favorite camgirl. If anything, he's a patron of the arts: dedicated, curious, and always ready for the next big thing. So when he finds out his quiet little chem partner has the same bedroom as his idol? Well... color him intrigued.

content: MDNI 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, camgirl!reader, chem partner!reader, quarterback!toji, fratboy!toji fanboy!toji,  jjk college au, no use of “y/n”, porn with a ridiculous amount of plot, vibrators, oral sex (m!receiving, f!receiving), piv sex, squirting, dumbification, toji has a biiiiig dick, daddy kink, size kink, breeding, etc.

word count: 10.1k (i don't play abt this man)

author's note: all credits of the above pictures go to their creators. The left-most picture is from thatsallitchief on X or tiktok. If anyone knows the artist of the right-most picture let me know so I can tag them!

toji's pre-game playlist: gemstone - don toliver, homecoming - lil uzi vert, don't kill the party - ty dolla $ign, love me - lil wayne, you - don toliver, nightcrawler - travis scott

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.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

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. 

a/n: lmk if u want a part 2! mwah! <3

[hibiscript]

WOWWWWWWE!!!! PEAK !!

[belimah]

art by ERO

[hibiscript]

WOAH WHAT IS IT FINNA PLAYYYY😋🤩😈

[hijkio]

🛁

[hibiscript]

yummers

[belimah]

甚尔：叫我爸爸 / art by cheng

[hibiscript]

WOWOOWWOWOWOWOWO HELLO DADA

[hibiscript]

all i need

stoner!choso x stoner!reader / art by @:einruji07 twt

synopsis: you haven't seen your best friend all semester, so when you both finally get together and spark up, other things spark between you two?

mndi! (18+): smut, fluff, porn w light plot, oral (f receiving), elicit drugs, drug use, slightly subby choso, CHOSO WHIMPERS!?!?!, teasing, light banter, horny h!gh, love confession, making out, not slow burn AT ALL lmao, you know the vibes

°❀.࿔ word count °❀.࿔ : 1.8k

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆

“cho im so excited, we haven’t done this in soooo long”. you say while sparking up and walking towards the balcony in your room.

“me toooo, i did NOT think my t-break was going to be that long but its finally over.” he says while calmly finding a spot next to you on the floor by the balcony.

“did you bring your own or did you want to just pass back n forth?” you asked slightly turning your head to your best friend and taking a hit of your j.

he turns his head toward you making direct eye contact, “nah, i wanna pass like we used too. but i did bring extra so we can smoke more if we need to.”

your eyes light up, PERF CHO YOU KNOW ME SAUR WELL, you say while having the widest grin on your face and leaning over to hug him.

he chuckles and hug you back, “okay okay i wanna smoke you’re hogging the j, he says while playfully rolling his eyes.

“HERE DAMN”, you say while rolling your eyes and shoving the j towards him.

“oh don’t be like that you know i love your hugs”, he chuckles again and takes a deep inhale of the j between his fingers.

“yeah yeah whatever, why’d you end up going on your t-break for so long again?” you say while you turn so your whole body is facing him.

he passed the joint back to you, “hmm honestly at first it was just to focus on school because finals were coming up, but i guess i got used to it and you were always busy so i didn’t want to smoke with someone else.”

you take another hit, “omg cho i’m sppeeciallll,” you say with the cheesiest grin ear to ear, passing it back to him.

“well of course,” he tilts his head at you and smiles while taking another hit.

you shuffle on the floor a bit to lay your head on choso’s lap, “you know why i was busy cho, between work and classes i was always exhausted. hell i barely smoked myself or even saw anyone at that.”

“yeah i know, im just glad we’re on break so we can actually hang out again i missed you.” he looked down at you in his lap while passing the joint back.

“me tooo cho, you’re the only one who understands me and my social battery never goes out when i’m with you. it’s nice it just feels like i can be myself at all times,” you say like taking a hit and passing it back.

“i feel the same exact way”, he says while leaning back on the carpet with one arm.

~innnnnhaaalleeeee~

you look up at choso, “CHO that was a big fucking hit you might as well keep that one since you wanna hog it,” you say half joking and half serious.

“fuck, i’m high as shit,” he smiles down at you with hazy eyes.

“oh ur cooked, give me my joint back ur done!” you say while reach up towards him.

“uh uh i got it,” he takes the joint out of his mouth and puts it between his index and middle finger while reaching down to your mouth, pressing the joint against your lips.

~innhalleee~

“cho i got it, i can hold it,” you say playfully while reaching for your joint.

“nah i got it i just want to watch you, let me know when you wanna take another hit.”

*badump*

“omg, that was so fucking hot,” you thought to yourself in your head. you always thought your secret crush on your best friend went away a long time ago but when he does stuff like this you get reminded of the feelings you pushed down many years ago.

“yeah, you like that?” he says while smirking at you.

“huh, what are you talking about cho?,” you look up at him with confusion all while your mind is racing with thoughts of your best friend.

“you thought what i did was hot, no?” he stares down at you in confusion

nonononono this can’t be happening not today.

“i said that out loud?,” your jaw flings open with shock.

“mhm hmm, loud n clear”, he smiles down at you again.

you slam your hands on your face to hide your embarrassment, “i need another hit now, im not high enough,” you say muffled by your hands.

you suddenly feel two hands prying your hands off your face.

“don’t be embarrassed, why do you think i did it in the first place.” he says softly while making direct eye contact with you.

“cho” you say looking up at him with wide eyes.

he takes a deep exhale,“i may be high rn but in all honesty i’ve always liked you, your smile, your laugh, your hugs, your personality, your heart, everything it’s always been you and i never knew how to tell you.

“cho are you serious rn,” your heart starts racing.

“yes, and i promise it’s not just because im high ive been wanting to tell you for a while but we never got to see each other in person,” he says while brushing your cheek lightly with his hand.

“please pinch me,” you say stunned.

he chuckles, “what are you talking about.”

“i have to make sure this isn’t a dream, because that would mean my dream is coming true.” you say gently while staring up at him with your eyes wide.

“hmm okie”, choso leans down and kisses you gently. “does that work as a pinch?”

“mmmmm i don’t knowww i think im still dreaming maybe one more.”

choso leans down again cupping your face with both of his hands, pressing his lips into yours.

kissing him this time felt different, it was even longer and slower. and after lapping his lips over yours you feel a slight tug at your bottom lip from his teeth as he pulls away from the kiss.

“talk to me”, he say quietly while looking down at you with loving eyes.

“this is definitely not a dream,” you say with a small smile and your face heating up.

“nope,” he says while popping his “p”.

“cho i’ve been wanting you for so long you don’t understand how happy i am right now.”

“yeah, you want me?”

“yes choso.”

“let’s do something about that”, he says while pulling you up into his lap.

your legs are straddling over his leg and you wrap your arms around his neck and passionately kiss him. he reaches down and wraps his arms tightly around your waist pulling you in closer.

“open”, he mutters while parting the kiss for a second. you listen and opened up your mouth a little more. he gently slid his tongue inside your mouth making out with you intimately, gripping your waist tightly.

“haa-fuck”, you moaned into his mouth while your tongues wrestled with eachother.

“how long-haa have you liked me baby, he groans into your mouth kissing you deeper.

“shoo long cho-ahh fuc- so long”, you say while reaching your hands to cup his face bringing him back in closer.

he parts the kiss and looks you up and down, “hm im glad i wasn’t the only one,” he says while brushing his thumb over your lightly swollen lips.

you reach your arms back around his neck, “how long have you liked me cho,” you say with innocent eyes filled with curiosity and lust.

“lemme show you”, he leans all the back so he’s laying on the floor. “come sit on my face princess”.

“cho i haven’t even had the chance to shower today”

“even better, please come sit on my face i wanna taste you,” he whines out.

before you can answer he grips into the sides of your waist tugging on your shorts

“please”, choso whimpers out in a whisper

instead of answering you place your hands on top of his and tugged your shorts and panties off

“you’re perfect”, choso says, laying down while pulling your legs up towards his face. “and so is she.”

before you could even say anything choso’s whole mouth is covering your pussy lapping his tongue up and down between your folds

“haa- holy shi- cho this feels so fucking good”, you moan out gripping into his hair and riding his face

“yeah princess you like that, been waiting so fucking long to get a taste of you” he says right before parting from your warmth and spitting right on your clit before he buries his face deeper into your cunt.

you start grinding against his tongue even harder chasing your release

“fuckkk yeah baby just like that use my tongue, i wanna see you get off on me”

“cho i can’t haa- please hel- ahhh help me”, you spat out while desperately thrusting your hip while losing stamina

“i’ve got you princess haaa- come on my tongue”. choso saying while flattening his tongue and moving his head back and forth to help you finish.

“shiiiii- cho hic- im cominggg fuck”, you say while your release comes crashing over you.

panting and out of breath you try to move your body off his face and suddenly you feel a tight grip fastening over your thighs keeping you in place

“nuh uh i’m not done cleaning you up”, choso says muffled from being deep into your cunt licking up every last bit of your come.

“huuu fuckkk cho please s’ too much”, you say while throwing your head back on the borderline of being overstimulated.

“mmmh taste so fucking good”, he says while ignoring your cries trying to lick up all of your slick.

he swiftly moves your hips down from his face and starts to get up off the floor while picking you up and walking towards the bed.

you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. you don’t say much of anything because you’re still out of breath from your climax so you quietly nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck.

choso lays down on the bed with you and wraps a big blanket around your half naked body.

“wait what about you cho, you didn’t come and you’re still hard?” you say whipping your head up and making direct eye contact with him.

“don’t worry about me baby it’ll go down, this is all i need right now”. he says while holding you closer and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

a/n: CHILE that writers block almost took me out!! soz if this is lowk buns i had to get it off my chest and finish it so i can work on my other fics🫰🏾 (i swear i don’t only write stoner fics it was just my hyper fixation at the time 🫡)

2026 © hibiscript, all rights reserved (excluding jjk characters) @hibiscript.

[hibiscript]

all i need

stoner!choso x stoner!reader / art by @:einruji07 twt

synopsis: you haven't seen your best friend all semester, so when you both finally get together and spark up, other things spark between you two?

mndi! (18+): smut, fluff, porn w light plot, oral (f receiving), elicit drugs, drug use, slightly subby choso, CHOSO WHIMPERS!?!?!, teasing, light banter, horny h!gh, love confession, making out, not slow burn AT ALL lmao, you know the vibes

°❀.࿔ word count °❀.࿔ : 1.8k

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆

“cho im so excited, we haven’t done this in soooo long”. you say while sparking up and walking towards the balcony in your room.

“me toooo, i did NOT think my t-break was going to be that long but its finally over.” he says while calmly finding a spot next to you on the floor by the balcony.

“did you bring your own or did you want to just pass back n forth?” you asked slightly turning your head to your best friend and taking a hit of your j.

he turns his head toward you making direct eye contact, “nah, i wanna pass like we used too. but i did bring extra so we can smoke more if we need to.”

your eyes light up, PERF CHO YOU KNOW ME SAUR WELL, you say while having the widest grin on your face and leaning over to hug him.

he chuckles and hug you back, “okay okay i wanna smoke you’re hogging the j, he says while playfully rolling his eyes.

“HERE DAMN”, you say while rolling your eyes and shoving the j towards him.

“oh don’t be like that you know i love your hugs”, he chuckles again and takes a deep inhale of the j between his fingers.

“yeah yeah whatever, why’d you end up going on your t-break for so long again?” you say while you turn so your whole body is facing him.

he passed the joint back to you, “hmm honestly at first it was just to focus on school because finals were coming up, but i guess i got used to it and you were always busy so i didn’t want to smoke with someone else.”

you take another hit, “omg cho i’m sppeeciallll,” you say with the cheesiest grin ear to ear, passing it back to him.

“well of course,” he tilts his head at you and smiles while taking another hit.

you shuffle on the floor a bit to lay your head on choso’s lap, “you know why i was busy cho, between work and classes i was always exhausted. hell i barely smoked myself or even saw anyone at that.”

“yeah i know, im just glad we’re on break so we can actually hang out again i missed you.” he looked down at you in his lap while passing the joint back.

“me tooo cho, you’re the only one who understands me and my social battery never goes out when i’m with you. it’s nice it just feels like i can be myself at all times,” you say like taking a hit and passing it back.

“i feel the same exact way”, he says while leaning back on the carpet with one arm.

~innnnnhaaalleeeee~

you look up at choso, “CHO that was a big fucking hit you might as well keep that one since you wanna hog it,” you say half joking and half serious.

“fuck, i’m high as shit,” he smiles down at you with hazy eyes.

“oh ur cooked, give me my joint back ur done!” you say while reach up towards him.

“uh uh i got it,” he takes the joint out of his mouth and puts it between his index and middle finger while reaching down to your mouth, pressing the joint against your lips.

~innhalleee~

“cho i got it, i can hold it,” you say playfully while reaching for your joint.

“nah i got it i just want to watch you, let me know when you wanna take another hit.”

*badump*

“omg, that was so fucking hot,” you thought to yourself in your head. you always thought your secret crush on your best friend went away a long time ago but when he does stuff like this you get reminded of the feelings you pushed down many years ago.

“yeah, you like that?” he says while smirking at you.

“huh, what are you talking about cho?,” you look up at him with confusion all while your mind is racing with thoughts of your best friend.

“you thought what i did was hot, no?” he stares down at you in confusion

nonononono this can’t be happening not today.

“i said that out loud?,” your jaw flings open with shock.

“mhm hmm, loud n clear”, he smiles down at you again.

you slam your hands on your face to hide your embarrassment, “i need another hit now, im not high enough,” you say muffled by your hands.

you suddenly feel two hands prying your hands off your face.

“don’t be embarrassed, why do you think i did it in the first place.” he says softly while making direct eye contact with you.

“cho” you say looking up at him with wide eyes.

he takes a deep exhale,“i may be high rn but in all honesty i’ve always liked you, your smile, your laugh, your hugs, your personality, your heart, everything it’s always been you and i never knew how to tell you.

“cho are you serious rn,” your heart starts racing.

“yes, and i promise it’s not just because im high ive been wanting to tell you for a while but we never got to see each other in person,” he says while brushing your cheek lightly with his hand.

“please pinch me,” you say stunned.

he chuckles, “what are you talking about.”

“i have to make sure this isn’t a dream, because that would mean my dream is coming true.” you say gently while staring up at him with your eyes wide.

“hmm okie”, choso leans down and kisses you gently. “does that work as a pinch?”

“mmmmm i don’t knowww i think im still dreaming maybe one more.”

choso leans down again cupping your face with both of his hands, pressing his lips into yours.

kissing him this time felt different, it was even longer and slower. and after lapping his lips over yours you feel a slight tug at your bottom lip from his teeth as he pulls away from the kiss.

“talk to me”, he say quietly while looking down at you with loving eyes.

“this is definitely not a dream,” you say with a small smile and your face heating up.

“nope,” he says while popping his “p”.

“cho i’ve been wanting you for so long you don’t understand how happy i am right now.”

“yeah, you want me?”

“yes choso.”

“let’s do something about that”, he says while pulling you up into his lap.

your legs are straddling over his leg and you wrap your arms around his neck and passionately kiss him. he reaches down and wraps his arms tightly around your waist pulling you in closer.

“open”, he mutters while parting the kiss for a second. you listen and opened up your mouth a little more. he gently slid his tongue inside your mouth making out with you intimately, gripping your waist tightly.

“haa-fuck”, you moaned into his mouth while your tongues wrestled with eachother.

“how long-haa have you liked me baby, he groans into your mouth kissing you deeper.

“shoo long cho-ahh fuc- so long”, you say while reaching your hands to cup his face bringing him back in closer.

he parts the kiss and looks you up and down, “hm im glad i wasn’t the only one,” he says while brushing his thumb over your lightly swollen lips.

you reach your arms back around his neck, “how long have you liked me cho,” you say with innocent eyes filled with curiosity and lust.

“lemme show you”, he leans all the back so he’s laying on the floor. “come sit on my face princess”.

“cho i haven’t even had the chance to shower today”

“even better, please come sit on my face i wanna taste you,” he whines out.

before you can answer he grips into the sides of your waist tugging on your shorts

“please”, choso whimpers out in a whisper

instead of answering you place your hands on top of his and tugged your shorts and panties off

“you’re perfect”, choso says, laying down while pulling your legs up towards his face. “and so is she.”

before you could even say anything choso’s whole mouth is covering your pussy lapping his tongue up and down between your folds

“haa- holy shi- cho this feels so fucking good”, you moan out gripping into his hair and riding his face

“yeah princess you like that, been waiting so fucking long to get a taste of you” he says right before parting from your warmth and spitting right on your clit before he buries his face deeper into your cunt.

you start grinding against his tongue even harder chasing your release

“fuckkk yeah baby just like that use my tongue, i wanna see you get off on me”

“cho i can’t haa- please hel- ahhh help me”, you spat out while desperately thrusting your hip while losing stamina

“i’ve got you princess haaa- come on my tongue”. choso saying while flattening his tongue and moving his head back and forth to help you finish.

“shiiiii- cho hic- im cominggg fuck”, you say while your release comes crashing over you.

panting and out of breath you try to move your body off his face and suddenly you feel a tight grip fastening over your thighs keeping you in place

“nuh uh i’m not done cleaning you up”, choso says muffled from being deep into your cunt licking up every last bit of your come.

“huuu fuckkk cho please s’ too much”, you say while throwing your head back on the borderline of being overstimulated.

“mmmh taste so fucking good”, he says while ignoring your cries trying to lick up all of your slick.

he swiftly moves your hips down from his face and starts to get up off the floor while picking you up and walking towards the bed.

you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. you don’t say much of anything because you’re still out of breath from your climax so you quietly nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck.

choso lays down on the bed with you and wraps a big blanket around your half naked body.

“wait what about you cho, you didn’t come and you’re still hard?” you say whipping your head up and making direct eye contact with him.

“don’t worry about me baby it’ll go down, this is all i need right now”. he says while holding you closer and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

a/n: CHILE that writers block almost took me out!! soz if this is lowk buns i had to get it off my chest and finish it so i can work on my other fics🫰🏾 (i swear i don’t only write stoner fics it was just my hyper fixation at the time 🫡)

2026 © hibiscript, all rights reserved (excluding jjk characters) @hibiscript.

[hibiscript]

kamisama if you’re listening PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD release me from my writers block🧎🏾‍♀️ (i’ve been writing for the last month and can’t finish anything take me out back and SH**T me)

[xoslutty]

✮ warning! don't ever agree to help gym coach!toji with his sit-ups ⸺ unless you wanna end up with his dick stuck inside you.

"yo, help me out with my sit ups."

you just held a damn plank for three minutes, your white top was soaked through, sticking to your belly, under your tits, and your spine. you straight up felt like you're gonna croak any second.

the gym was ghosted, the lights were dimmed to a low glow — like when the place is about to close, but someone’s too lazy to kick the last few freaks out. nobody worked out this late. nobody except for one psycho.

toji fushiguro. your massive, hot-as-fuck trainer. he sat on a bench by the rack, lazily re-wrapping his wrists.

"toji, i swear, i'm gonna pass ou—"

"just shut your damn mouth and get over here."

you sighed 'cause it was pointless to argue with him and headed over. he was already on the mat by the time you hit the stretching zone. shirtless, pants hanging so low you could see his happy trail, and rockin' that signature smirk.

"get over here."

you sat on his knees like you did a hundred times before, but today everything felt off. toji grabbed your waist and yanked you up onto his thighs, right on his bare, rock-hard cock.

god-tier cock. huge, veins popping and throbbing at the base, with a thick head already leaking pre-cum. you felt it even through your shorts. "toji… people will see…"

"shhh. you earned a treat, you worked so hard today."

he started moving you back and forth slowly, making your shorts rub against him, but you still felt how hard he was and how he kept twitching under you. "we ain't supposed to… mmnh… if they see us..."

he didn't even let you finish, just hoisted you up with one hand 'cause his left one was gripping your ass hard enough to leave marks. he jerked your panties and shorts to the side and sat you down on his dick. the whole damn thing.

you let out a loud moan — couldn't help it, couldn't even catch your breath because he filled you up to the hilt. you slapped a hand over your mouth right away, digging your fingers into your lips, terrified someone might hear.

after all, you were in a public gym.

"watch that pretty mouth," he purred. "we don't want 'em to catch this fine little pussy swallowin' her coach's cock, do we?" his dick was tearing you up inside, your muscles twitching all crazy around him trying to take it all, but it was too much. you just sat there frozen, shaking and wet, with your mouth wide open, just letting out a silent sob.

"count." he sits up. you feel his abs tighten under your fingers, the way they crunch as he curls up. his shoulder blades leave the mat and that dick inside you moves — up, even deeper if that's even possible, and you feel it hittin' so damn deep.

"on— hahh!" a high, whiny moan rips out of you. you can't catch it, can't close your mouth — you just roll your eyes back and dig your nails into his shoulders, making him laugh. "i said count." his hand stays on your thigh, keeping you from just riding him like a total slut and screaming his name through the whole gym. "that one didn't count. start over."

he slowly sinks back to the mat, his cock almost slips out an inch, maybe two — and you feel every single vein as it slides. right until it’s almost gone.

your hips twitch on their own — you just wanna drop down and feel him inside. "h-nngh! toji...hnnn! just stop bein' such an asshole!"

he peeps you with a raised brow. "babe, i'm gettin' old. ain't gonna wait all night."

"on…"

"can't hear ya."

"one! mmnghh!"

he lifts his torso again, muscles rolling under his skin. he comes all the way up until you're face to face, his cock plunges back in — deep and hard. "h-ahh! two! two!"

you wanna lean on his shoulders or his chest, but he catches both your wrists with one hand and yanks them up. your palms end up over his head, your back arches, and your chest pushes forward, showing off your rock-hard nipples. he leans in and licks 'em right through the top, then takes one in his mouth and starts sucking. there's a wet spot on your top when he pulls away. "such a good girl."

then his hand slaps your ass, making a loud smack echo through the gym. he goes down — and up again, crunch after crunch. he works like a piston, driving you onto his dick with every single lift.

on the sixth rep, you feel a knot tighten inside you. "nngghh! t-toji! i'm gonna cum, oh god, i'm gonna cum right now!"

he speeds it up. the crunches get shorter, meaner. his upper part is working at the limit — you see how strained his muscles are, how the sweat glistens on his belly. his breath gets shaky and raspy.

he hoists his hips up, going in as deep as it gets, and stays like that for a few seconds. his dick is so deep you feel it throbbin' inside.

"one left. c'mon, babe."

he lifts his torso one last time — your legs are shaking in a cramp, wrists still pinned up, you can't move, just grinding your hips in circles. "mmgh! haa-aahh! i'm cummin', i'm cummin', i'm cummin'! tee-e-en! nngghh!"

you come with a loud moan, couldn't even stifle it — no air to breathe, no brain to think. just wave after wave rolling through you, muscles clenching around his cock all jerky and greedy, squeezing every drop out of him.

suddenly, the lights flick on and you hear a muffled voice. "what the fuck are y'all doin' in here?"

more? ──── cr for art: @/_jtvll on IG

[hibiscript]

oh yes.

[spideyyeet]

NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER — T.F.

[ SUM ] — college soccer coach toji has a secret admirer. but how secret is it when most of the highlights in the school paper are photos of him, instead of the players scoring goals?

[ TAGS ] — MDNI 18+ ONLY. nsfw. piv. raw. unprotected. age gap (mid 30s x early 20s). slight exhibitionism. HEAVY CREAMPIE. FAT BULGE. spanking. CUNNILINGUS. oral f!recieving. dacryphilia. reader kinda freaky. thick dark sexy HAPPY TRAIL. nudity. SHOWER SEX. SCENT KINK. pet names. spitting. wc: 19.1k

[ A/N ] — inspired by coach!toji from my fratkuna series. I was gooning too much whenever I’d mention him soooo

photo-journalism can mean many things. at its core though is documentation and being present. it’s about recording what happens so it doesn’t vanish into the noise of the world. and that’s what you’ve been doing since you started uni.

working for the school newspaper means covering everything that matters to the university. big events, games, and when you attend a school with a division 1 soccer team, that’s ranked the top of the country, it means your weekends are spent on the sidelines of the pitch. floodlights humming overhead, cleats tearing into the turf, and the air sharp with anticipation.

everyone’s eyes are on the match, on the players, the scoreline, and the inevitable victory. everyone’s, except yours.

your lens has a habit of drifting. and it always finds him on the sidelines, the head coach.

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

anyways, the next oneshot will def be the frat gojo fic! possibly thinking of frat geto after this oneshot too bc i put in some little easter eggs about how they both kinda lean into mean girls so stay tuned! — (divider by @/strangergraphics)

[hibiscript]

and i love a good toji fic

[reignpage]

Read Between My Thighs

Synopsis: your plan is to avoid your rival, now that you’ve both been hired as assistant librarians, to minimise the chances of getting into hours long debates and committing murder. the problem is that he's everywhere — helping you carry heavy boxes, scoffing at your choice of literature, eating you out in the back corner between the We Shouldn't Do This and the We'll Never Speak of This Again shelves. in all the bickering and orgasms, you're left with one question:

is the smell of books an aphrodisiac?

EPILOGUE - this marks the end of the librarian!nanami fic. thank you so much for keeping up and for reading. you all have the patience of saints. your love and support for this series means the world to me, and I will forever be grateful to each and every one of you for loving this version of Nanami. I love you all.

Warnings: no spoilers (contains smut, fluff, and angst) :) Word Count: 5.3k Canto IV - Masterlist

“Oh, Kento,” you whisper, hugging your coat tighter around yourself. “I wish you could be here.”

Leaves crunch under your boots. You bury your face a little deeper in your scarf. 

Campus smells the same as you remembered it. That’s the first thing you notice. Cold air, damp bark, something faintly sweet from all the coffee shops that have popped up on and around the area. 

So much is familiar, and of course it is — things don’t change that much, even if it has been years since you graduated. The same oak tree everyone used to fight over in the summer stands tall. Same hedges, same brick walls, and cobblestones. Same mascots and crests plastered on banners and plaques. 

But, as you’d expected, things are different too. New faces, naturally. A wing was added to the Psychology building after the department received greater funding for their contribution to mental health research. The old noticeboards have gone digital, glowing screens cycling through events you can’t decipher. You don’t see many older professors; you wouldn’t be able to tell who’s a professor and who’s not anymore when professors and students have grown closer in age.

“Time really does fly, huh?” 

In spite of any changes, however, you still feel right at home here. The steps you took from building to building are embedded in the soil. The phantom of your laughter echo in the halls, overlapping with generations before and after you. Even if you graduated a while back, you’ll always be a child of academia.

Although you’re elated to be back, you can’t help but feel melancholy.

A trip down memory lane doesn’t feel right without one of the people that took prime real estate, after all. 

It just isn’t the same. 

“Stop ignoring me.”

Shuddering, you sigh wistfully. “It’s like I can still hear him.”

“You can kill me in your mind all you like,” the voice begins, dryly, “it doesn’t change the fact that you know I’m right; Kindles cannot ever be superior to a good, old, physical book.”

You scowl, and turn to look back at the man trailing behind you. “They say wisdom comes with age but you’re proving them all wrong, aren’t you, babe?”

Kento’s rubbing his glasses clean from the slight fog that’s made the lenses difficult to see through. His cheeks are ever so slightly pink from the cold, and they’re the only markers that he’s bothered by the weather. Unlike you, who’s missing the warmth of Malaysia. He barely even tanned.

He reminds you, “We’re the same age, my love.”

“Yeah, well, I wear it better,” you respond haughtily. 

Sliding his glasses back on, he blinks a couple times before hastening his steps to reach your side. He holds your hand in his and tucks it into his pocket, where a handwarmer lies waiting. A thumb rubs your knuckles. Kento smiles to himself. “I’m inclined to agree on that front.”

“Okay, so you can also agree with me about how Kindles are a fine alternative to physical books. I really don’t know why you look down on them so much — they’re so practical. You can have multiple books all in one place, they’re smaller and more portable than a book, they weigh much less, and you can adjust the font and page colours. They’re more accessible, Ken. You need to get with the times.”

He nods. “I see your points, and I’m not saying Kindles are to be scoffed at. I simply mean that, if given the choice and you have no accessibility needs, one ought to choose physical copies, and support the ever-dying paper industry.”

“You mean the paper industry that’s killing trees?”

Kento glances down at you. “Are you arguing that the manufacturing of Kindles has zero environmental impact?”

It’s a trap, you recognise it. He’s trying to bait you. It’s not going to work.

Squeezing his hand, you tug him to the direction you want to take him: down the scenic route as opposed to the shorter path to your destination. He doesn’t put up a fight. 

Casually, you say, “No, of course not. Everything has a carbon footprint. But it’s all about minimising your impact, and decreasing the number of books, and pages, that have to be printed in favour of having them digitally available, supports that. I don’t think you can argue against the point that Kindles are more environmentally friendly than physical copies.”

“So being environmentally conscious and friendly is the goal. That’s your main point? It’s the underlying reason for any decision you make regarding what you read and in what medium you read it in?” 

Without waiting for a response, Kento continues, “Would you say owning three Kindles, two more than you really need, is environmentally friendly? And if so, what would your response be to me pointing out that since you bought your first Kindle, barring the fact that you bought two more, the rate at which you purchase physical copies hasn’t decreased.”

In a flash, you yank him inside a random building. It’s in the process of renovation. The alumni newsletter said it’s going to be a ‘Wellness Centre’, whatever that means. 

There’s no one here. The lights aren’t even on. Only the natural light from the gloomy sky lights the hall full of caution tapes and unemptied boxes. 

You shove Kento against the wall and kiss him.

His hands fall upon your waist reflexively. 

Lips move together so easily, so comfortably that you grow dizzy already. There’s nothing careful about the way he kisses you. No measured distance, no polite hesitation. Just heat, and the sharp edge of something that could be likened to deep satisfaction.

Kento exhales against you, fingers tightening at your waist to anchor himself. Your hands curl into his coat, tugging him closer and closer still, until there’s no space left between you at all.

Every breath, every shift, every small sound echoes back at you.

A thigh of his parts yours. The apex of yours meets it unhesitatingly. You’re wearing jeans, and despite the layers between you, you can feel the hardness of his muscular thigh. Your hips grind down on him with a gasp. 

“Distracting me with your body?” he breathes out. “This must be an admittance of defeat.”

Your hand finds the bulge you knew would be there. When you grip him, he sucks in a sharp breath and throws his head. A light thud resounds. “You wish, Kennypie,” you whisper, rubbing his already-hard clothed cock in time with how you rub your clothed clit on his leg. 

Truth is, you believe physical copies are superior to digital. Always. You were a Classical Lit student, and forever a snob, you’ll happily admit. 

What you won’t ever admit is that Kento is right.

You’ll take any camp opposite his just to feel the thrill of debate.

Faster than you had snatched him to the dark, he spins the both of you around and pins you to the wall. He sucks your bottom lip, then your neck where your pulse is. Kento untangles your scarf, pulls down the zip of your coat along with his descent, and comes to kneel before you. 

“No, darling,” he exhales. Your thighs squeeze together. “My wish is to taste you.”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you let him unbutton your jeans and pull them down. Goosebumps rise. He soothes warmth into your skin with his palms. With a giggle, you ask, “Again? You just ate me out this morning, Ken.”

Rare mornings where you could sleep in are usually spent with him settled between your thighs, or you between his. Why wouldn’t they be?

As he guides one foot out of the jeans, he nuzzles your thigh. The tip of his nose grazes the frilly hem of your panties. “Who said I’m limited to only once per day?”

The both of you really shouldn’t be doing this. If you get caught, you won’t be expelled; that’s not the punishment non-students face. It’s jail time. But there’s no one here, and there are no cameras. The campus is near empty because of the gloomy weather, and the way he’s started mouthing at your pussy through your panties feels too good to stop. 

“Fine, but be quick, okay?” you tell him. “Our friends’ll be waiting, and after we scolded Sho for being late at the last dinner party, it’ll be a bad look if we’re late now.”

Kento hooks his finger on the gusset and pulls it aside. He makes a dreamy sigh at the sight of your puffy lips, glistening with your juices. A thumb of his parts the lips so he can see your clit and press a kiss to it. 

You jolt.

“I’ll be quick,” he mutters, sounding wholly unconvincing. “She’ll get over it if we’re late just this once.”

Then, he’s licking a stripe up your slit, collecting your wetness on his tongue. “So sweet,” he says. “Always so sweet for me, for Kento, aren’t you, sweetheart?”He’s burying his face deeper between your thighs, desperate to get as close to you as possible.

 You squirm against the wall, panting. “We’re not going to be late,” you insist. 

The end of your scarf tickles his forehead. You move it away, wanting to have an unobstructed view of his face as his tongue flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again. 

Nodding absentmindedly, he agrees, “No, we won’t be late…but it won’t be so bad if we are.”

Groaning, both in frustration and in pleasure, you repeat, “We’re not going to be late, Kento. I swear to God, you better not mess around.”

Two fingers worm their way inside your entrance, stretching the tight ring of muscle out. You feel the long digits reaching deep. They force your gummy walls to expand around them. You’re flushed, pulse racing. If anyone were to catch you now, there’d be no explaining your way out of this. 

His glasses have fogged up again. It irritates him. He takes the thing off with a hasty hand and pockets it. You like him with his glasses, but you like him with his eyes drinking you up more.

Kento curls his fingers over that spot he knows well. You moan, hips stuttering onto his face. His words come out muffled when he says, “That’s up to you, sweetheart. Admit I’m right, and you’ll get your orgasm and your high horse.”

Tempting, you think. 

He knows you so well. 

But not well enough.

Throwing your leg over his shoulder, you fully commit to getting your orgasm one way or the other. “I would rather be late to every event we have for the rest of our lives than admit you’re right in any capacity, Kento,” you announce resolutely. 

He chuckles. “Of course you would. My stubborn, stubborn girl.”

That’s the last you hear from him before he’s wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. The pressure inside builds and builds. You can’t deny his skilled tongue and years of knowing your body in and out, perhaps even better than he knows his own. 

You cum with a slap of your palm over your mouth, stifling the scream. “Fuck, Ken,” you groan.

Through it, he keeps sucking and curling his fingers. He’s elongating your pleasure, making sure you can ride your high, and his tongue, to your heart’s desire. 

And just when it starts to get too much, you shove him away from your pussy. He doesn’t let you create too much distance — greedy hands grip your hips. He presses himself close, covering your body with his body heat. 

Movement heavy with the remnants of your orgasm, you fight to release his cock from the tight confines of his tailored pants. It lands heavy in your palm, tip flushed and leaking. You feel the rush of his blood, the way it makes the length pulse and his veins prominent. You stroke him a couple times just to hear him murmur your name in that slutty voice of his. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he rasps. His hips are rutting into your hold. 

“Are you gonna fuck me, Ken?” you purr. “Are you going to christen this building before it’s even been built?”

Kento nods. He kisses you, as though unable to bear being apart from you for too long. The taste of you lingers on his tongue, and you don’t mind it. He pulls away enough to reply, “Yes, darling. I want to feel you, want to make you feel good.”

You kiss him again, smiling. “You always do, Kento. Go on, I permit you to put it inside.”

He lets out a low laugh. “How kind.”

Kento hikes your leg up on his hip, allowing his cock glide through your swollen, slick lips first. He coats the length with your juices. Lewd noises squelch, and upon the initial contact, you both gasp into each other’s mouths. 

Soon, he can’t wait any longer, and the fat cockhead is prodding your pussy as though knocking politely. It enters you slowly. Inch by inch. Being careful of the fact that he hasn’t been able to give you as much foreplay as he would have wanted. 

The stretch is so familiar, so good that your back arches off the wall. “Oh, fuck, Ken.”

“I know, my love,” he murmurs. “Me too.”

Under the layers, you sweat. You’re aware of the fibres of his sweater you borrowed brushing your skin, of the hairs sticking to the back of your neck, of how his clothes and yours makes the closeness feel dull. It’s not like being in the comforts of your own home, of being naked and in bed, and feeling skin on skin. 

Restless, you whine, “Ken, put it all in.”

A kiss to your forehead and he’s doing as you asked. 

The two of you moan when his pelvis meets yours. You’re flushed together, and it’s glorious. There’s a slight sting but nothing that doesn’t make your eyes roll back.

Kento croaks, “You feel so warm, so tight, so -hngh- soft. God, sweetheart, you’re perfect. So, so perfect.”

Your hips rock together. It’s not like the purposeful, drawn out lovemaking you do at home. You’re not teasing, playing games, or rutting against each other knowing there’ll be more rounds after this. 

This is quick. It’s fast, it’s uninhibited, it’s animalistic. You’re merely racing towards your peaks, humping each other like dogs, and grunting and moaning like so. There’s nothing sophisticated or elegant about the slapping of skin, about the clash of lips with teeth, or of the way your fingers dig in whatever body parts you can latch onto. 

“Is it nice to be back, Ken?”

Panting, he flexes his jaw as he tries to ground himself enough to think. “Y-yes, darling. It’s nice to see what’s changed and what hasn't.”

In between kisses, you respond, “Right? I mean, things have changed, but being here makes me feel like I’m a student running late for class. It’s lovely.”

He grinds his pelvis into yours, rubbing your clit till you’re almost drooling. “Yes. It is. It reminds me of the old times with you, and our -ah fuck- friends. It gets h-harder and harder to see them every year.”

“I know,” you say, hips working down on his cock. “Thank you for arranging this reunion, Ken. It’s so desperately needed after all the travelling.”

Kento cups a tit through your clothes. He kneads the fat and you jut your chest out for him. “They’d all been wanting to see you after all your success, sweetheart. It was pretty easy to organise when they want to see the award winning star in our circle.”

You grin and clench down on him. He hisses. “Oh, stop you. It’s not like you’re hiding in my shadows.”

“Someone h-has to keep these big-ego writers in place,” he responds playfully.

“My place is sitting on your face or riding your -ngh! keep going- c-cock, right, Ken?” you ask, batting your lashes up at him.

He kisses your forehead. “Whatever you say, my love.”

Something about the fact that he’s more dressed than you are has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. It’s the way he looks composed, but you know better: his cock pulses every time your walls clench down on him, and he throws his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing. It’s how you lick up the sweat beading on his neck when he does, and he grips you harder. 

The rate at which he’s fucking inside you is increasing. You’re being jostled against the wall, feeling every bump and grind as if your senses are heightened. You no longer feel cold or conscious of being caught. All you can think and feel and taste and hear and see is him.

“I’m close,” you grit out. “I’m so close, Ken!”

“I’ve got you, my love,” he promises. He grabs the back of your other thigh. You’re held up in the air by his hands, boots dangling and jeans dragging on the floor. Like this, he reaches even deeper.

Your tits bounce with every rutting, and you wish he could be sucking on one. You wish you could rub yourself all over him. You wish there weren’t layers keeping you from him. That you could be as loud and wild as you want. 

Combing your fingers through his hair, you yank his head back and command, “Yield, Kento. Submit to the -hah- love of your life and tell her she wins.”

His eyes narrow. “Or what?”

You grin. “Or I won’t cum.”

And he knows you mean it — you’re far too stubborn to succumb to pleasure, especially when there’s victory on the line. So he shakes out of your grip and rushes to dive his face forward. “You’re right,” he whispers to your ear, breathing warmth to the heated skin. “You’re always right. Kento’s wrong, about whatever we were arguing about this time, about everything.”

A breathless laugh carries into the humid air. “Damn right.”

One particularly perfect thrust against your g-spot has your vision spotting, your legs shaking, and toes curling. You cum with a silent moan. Kento groans into your neck, grip bruising as your clenching milks him to his own orgasm. 

This will be somewhere between your sixth and eight orgasm of the day and it’s just as strong as the first. 

Sex with Kento — wherever, however, whenever — is always mindblowing and mindmelting, a fact you rejoice in after concerns of age getting in the way. Of course neither of you are objectively old; your backs and joints are just fine. But you’ve been together for years now, and people often talk about how the chemistry fizzles. 

Thankfully that has yet to happen.

“Oh, s-sweetheart,” he murmurs.

“Mm, Ken,” you say when the pleasure begins to subside. “We didn’t wear a condom again. Now your cum’s gonna be dripping out of me and onto my panties.”

He throbs. You laugh again. 

“I’ll clean you up, darling,” he replies. 

Kento presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls out. The shift is abrupt enough that you both suck in a breath, the cold air rushing back in where there had only been heat a second ago. An emptiness fills you. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

You land a little unsteadily when he sets you back on your feet. 

He’s about to get onto his knees. You stop him. “No, Ken, we’re going to be late.”

He looks conflicted for a second before he checks his wristwatch and reluctantly nods. “Yes, you’re right. Again.”

“Naturally.”

Like trained criminals, you quickly fix your clothes back up and get rid of any evidence. He tugs your jeans back up, giving you some time to replace your panties with a wince at the coldness. His hands zip your coat back up, then tucks your scarf inside. He fixes your hair, and you his. Kento slides his glasses back onto his nosebridge and blinks furiously to adjust his sight.

With last checks, you two give the other satisfied nods and head on out, though not without him sneaking a kiss and you smacking his ass.

“I can’t believe we’ve been on campus not even half an hour and we’ve already desecrated a building. We haven’t matured at all,” Kento mutters under his breath when you get back on the right path and near your destination. 

Looping an arm through his, you reply, “I know. Isn’t it great?”

Amused, he glances down at you and holds your hand. He brings it up to his lips and presses a kiss on your knuckles. “The greatest.”

You laugh. 

Then stop.

Up ahead stands a woman you could never forget. And when Kento stills too, you know he’s thinking the same thing. 

Mrs. Collins doesn’t look like she’s aged a day — there’s sprinklings of colour in a head of greys, in spite of the wrinkles she bears her skin is still tight, and there’s a sharpness in her eyes that hasn’t faded away. 

She’s wrapping her scarf around herself. Without needing to ask, you know where she just came from. It oddly brings you some peace to know she hasn’t left.

You don’t know if she remembers; it’s been some years and you only worked for her for a couple months. Or if she does remember, would she say anything? Would she pretend she doesn’t know you, never did anything, and you’re just another passing figure?

“Well, hello, my dears.”

So she does.

It’s impossible to tell if that brings you comfort or not. 

“Hi, Mrs. Collins,” you say. Nanami cuts you a look but you give him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s been a while.”

“Has it?” she asks, not sarcastically, but rather genuinely, as though she finds it hard to keep time and it was just this morning that she stepped inside the library with the intent of setting you up, and she’d now stepped outside. 

A part of you is surprised she’s talking to you, that she’s entertaining this conversation, when she could walk away and go about her day. There’s no obligation to talk to you at all. You’re no longer students, no longer employed by her, no longer young and naive.

Her eyes slide over to Kento. “Mr. Nanami, are you not going to greet me?”

You’ve never spoken to him about her since before you graduated; neither of you bring it up. And you never found that fact odd — there were almost much more interesting and pressing things to talk about. 

“Good afternoon. We don’t wish to keep you. Please don’t mind us,” he replies, coldly. Well, it would seem warm enough to anyone who didn’t know him well. To you, however, you might as well be standing next to a glacier. 

She hums. “Still haven’t forgiven me, I take it.”

No, Kento doesn’t seem to have; he’s as rigid as can be, as distant as possible, and paler than ever. You squeeze his hand. He doesn’t squeeze back.  

It must haunt him more than it haunts you.

You don’t think about her and what happened very much, to be frank. You’re too busy to do so. It would be a lie, though, to say you don’t sporadically recall how you were used. Sometimes when you’re staring out the window and drinking coffee. Sometimes when you’re getting in a car. You’ve thought about what you would do and say if you saw her again, if she would ask for an apology, if you would cuss her out, blackmail her. 

Right now, when the opportunity has risen and there’s no better time, you can’t seem to do any of that.

Because the person you see in front of you isn’t this cruel, callous monster of cosmic proportions who deserves to be dragged by the hair. She isn’t going to turn you to stone or tip your boat over. She’s not the devil, the mother of all demons, the shadow under your bed.

She’s just a woman who loves books. 

And you’d do anything for the things and people you love too.

“I forgive you,” you tell her suddenly. The words leave your lips without you realising it.

Mrs. Collins purses her lips. If she’s surprised by your words, she doesn’t show it. “I never asked for forgiveness for what I did.”

“I know,” you say. “I know, and I forgive you. What you did, what happened, didn’t stunt my growth, didn’t stop me from graduating, from entering the real world with pride and confidence, and didn’t stop me and Kento from being together. What you did made me stronger. I forgive you.”

Maybe you were never even really mad at her. Maybe you’d forgiven her a long time ago, around the same time that Kento asked you to be his girlfriend and you never looked back.

The older lady processes your words for a second or two. She even looks you up and down. Then she looks at Kento, and asks, “And you?”

“I can’t.” 

Does disappointment flicker in her eyes or mere acknowledgement? Does either in yours?

Whatever the case may be, that’s all there is left to be said here. At least that’s what you think until she opens her mouth again as though the act is an afterthought.

“I read your book, dear. It’s a rather popular stock in the library.”

“Thank you,” you say automatically, a reflex you’d picked up on the book tour. 

“It’s not a compliment,” she replies. “It’s just a fact.”

It lands like a compliment, and you take it as such.

“I’ll be looking forward to the sequel,” she says. With a final, acknowledging nod, she turns. Mrs. Collins doesn’t strut off immediately though; she pauses and adds casually, “Best of luck, Mr. Nanami.” Then she goes and disappears around the corner, leaving behind a mist of warm air. 

For a moment, the two of you just stand there under the dark clouds. As far as interactions with someone you once knew and who fucked you over goes, that wasn’t so bad, right?

You rub Kento’s arm and lean your head on his shoulder. “Are you okay, Ken?”

“I’m sorry.” You look up at him. His shoulders are still tense. His gaze fixed ahead. “I know it’s unfair to resent her, especially when you’ve graciously forgiven her and I have no right to hold any moral high ground, but I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

You figured as much — he can’t forgive himself, and so he can’t forgive her, because forgiving her means forgiving himself. It’s too soon and he’s as stubborn as you so your reassurances will only go in one ear and out the other.

“No, Ken. It’s okay. Really. Process things however you need to.”

Kento replies with some heaviness, “I’ll forever be grateful you forgave me, when you shouldn’t have.”

Sighing, you grab his face and force him to meet your eyes. “Kento, it was so long ago. You’ve apologised a millions times back then, and couldn’t even get it up for the first month or so when we started dating out of guilt, remember? I know you’re sorry, hon, and I know you’d never do anything like that again. We’re not going to spiral over something that happened eons ago.”

He leans into your touch and sighs too. “You’re right, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring down the mood.”

“Better now than later, at lunch,” you say, shrugging. “Remember not to let Shoko’s teasing yet the best of you, ‘kay, Kenny Benny Bear.”

At the old nickname, he grimaces but otherwise says nothing. 

Looping your arm back through his and marching on, you add, “Plus, I can’t say I didn’t deserve it even just a little bit. Remember when I swapped your copy of The Iliad before the exam and your average went down by a couple points?”

Kento smiles at the memory. “You only did that because I changed the time zone on your laptop in the study room when you weren’t looking and made you late for the guest lecture with Phicshonal Lehjendaree Dyrektore.” 

You throw your head back and chortle. “Oh my god, yeah! I was so mad. I’d been looking forward to that for weeks.”

“It was a good lecture too,” he notes fondly. “You really missed out.”

A smack on his chest does nothing but make him smile harder. 

“Ugh, whatever, asshole,” you say though you’re smiling too. “We were both stupidly childish, weren’t we?”

“Very,” he agrees.

The two of you cuddle close together, one could say for warmth or for comfort. In spite of the weather, of the dip in the mood, you walk on feeling light. Campus is really quite beautiful in Autumn, with the vibrant reds and oranges and browns of the leaves, and the emptiness of the streets between buildings.

It’s a good day to be with friends, you think. 

Soon, the library comes into view. 

Whereas many buildings have had some tweaks done to them, the library remains just as you remember it. Marble pillars, tall doors, golden lettering, stone stairs, and a welcoming glow to it that you’re sure only you and other nerds can see.

You were a little surprised that the meet up point would be here, especially when Kento was in charge of making the plans, but now that you’re at the foot of the stairs, you’re glad it’s here. Now it really feels like coming home.

A ping alerts you both. Kento checks his phone, and clears his throat. He stiffens again. “We’re going to be late. Let’s head inside.”

You nod and follow him up. He grips your hand tight to make sure you don’t slip on the stairs.

The doors open with a soft push.

For a second, you don’t understand what you’re looking at.

Then— faces.

Familiar ones. 

Needa and Frend, grinning too wide. Shoko beside them wriggling her brows at you as Haibara jumps excitedly behind her. Your parents, his, family and friends scattered in little clusters, all turned toward you with that same unmistakable look. Expectant. Bright. Soft in a way that makes your chest tighten before your mind can catch up.

You blink.

The library — the same one you spent years in, arguing and studying and fighting — has been transformed. The harsh overhead lights are gone, replaced by a gentler glow. Lamps lit up. The dreary, old curtains have been swapped for lush velvet. There are no students. No quiet shuffling, no turning pages, no whispered conversations.

Just melodic music.

A string quartet is tucked near the far end where the reading tables used to be. Bows glide over strings, slow and aching and beautiful threading through the air and tickling your skin, which is growing warmer from both the attention, the shock, and the protective temperature of the indoors.

There’s bouquets of flowers on mahogany tables. Petals littering the floor, thickest where you come to stand in the centre of the huddle under a chandelier of twinkling lights. Soft whites, pale pinks, a few deeper hues woven in. They curl around the ends of shelves, rest along tables, and climb just slightly where they shouldn’t.

Your heart starts to pound, hard enough that it drowns out everything for a moment. 

Slowly, you turn.

Kento is there.

On one knee.

The music, the light, the people — everything fades at the edges until it’s just him, steady and sure despite the way his hands shake just slightly around the small box. 

The ring catches the light. 

Your breath leaves you in a quiet, startled exhale.

“I’d ask if you would do me the honour of making me the happiest man in the world,” he starts, staring only at you, “but you already have, so I suppose the better question is…”

Tears well up in your eyes and you already have the answer at the tip of your tongue pleading to be screamed. 

“Do you hate me enough to marry me?”

[hibiscript]

brb i’m sobbing tears of joy

[fayelero]

FATHERHOOD VS PUSSY ?

-> blue balls over. now bend over.

ft. toji, gojo, higuruma, choso, nanami

cw. mdni. established relationship, unprotected sex, daddy kink, mommy kink, creampie kink, overstimulation, edging (higuruma, gojo), light bondage (nanami), degradation, hate sex, spanking, age gap (higuruma)

TOJI FUSHIGURO

The bedroom was dim, just the low glow of the baby monitor casting flickering blue shadows across the walls. It had been exactly thirty-one days. Thirty-one fucking days since Toji had been inside you, and every single one of them had clawed at him like a curse he couldn’t exorcise. You were the mother of his kids—his pretty little wife, the one who’d given him Megumi and then another on the way—and he loved you for it. But goddamn, the way Megumi had been calling for you every single night lately? The toddler’s tiny voice cracking through the monitor at the worst possible moments? Toji was losing his mind. Jealous. Actually jealous of his own three-year-old son.

Tonight, though… tonight the house was finally quiet.

You’d barely made it through the door after putting Megumi down for the third time when Toji’s big hands were on you. He didn’t even let you finish changing out of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. He just shoved you face-down onto the mattress, that dingy sage comforter bunching up under your tits as he yanked your panties down your thighs in one rough tug.

“C’mon, pretty thing,” he growled, voice low and mean, the same gravelly tone he used when he was done pretending to be patient. “Let’s see that ass. Show me what it’s fuckin’ made of after a whole goddamn month of blue-balling your husband.”

You whimpered, already arching for him like muscle memory, because your body remembered exactly who it belonged to. Toji’s hands—scarred, calloused, huge—gripped your hips hard enough to bruise as he freed himself from his sweats. His cock was already leaking, thick and heavy, the fat vein along the underside pulsing with a month’s worth of pent-up frustration. He didn’t tease. He didn’t ease in. He just lined up and slammed home in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt until his heavy balls smacked wetly against your clit.

“Fuuuck,” he hissed through his teeth, head falling back. Your pussy was so tight, so fucking wet already just from the way he’d manhandled you, that it made his eyes roll. “Still grippin’ me like you missed this dick, huh? Like you didn’t spend every night cock-blocking me for that little brat.”

You moaned into the pillow, the stretch burning so good it made your toes curl. “Toji—baby—wait—”

“Nah.” His palm cracked down on your ass, the sound sharp and filthy. “You had your chance to wait. Every time I tried to get between these thighs, Megumi started cryin’ like the world was ending. ‘Mommy, mommy!’” He mocked the toddler’s voice in a low snarl, hips already snapping forward in short, punishing thrusts that made your whole body jolt. “Well guess what, mommy? Daddy’s had enough.”

He was pissed. You could feel it in every ruthless drag of his cock—thick, veiny, curved just right to bully that spongy spot inside you over and over. The wet, obscene squelch of your cunt swallowing him echoed through the room, louder than the low hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand. Toji’s tank top was already sticking to his abs, the fabric dark with sweat as he fucked you like he hated you. Like he was punishing you for every interrupted night, every time you’d slipped out of bed to soothe your son instead of letting him wreck you.

“Mngh—Toji—slow down—” Your voice cracked, but your hips pushed back anyway, greedy for more even as you tried to sound like you meant it.

“Slow down?” He laughed, dark and ugly, and slammed in so deep his tip kissed your cervix with a wet kiss that made your eyes cross. “You want slow? After you left me walkin’ around this house with blue balls for a month? Nah, baby. You’re gonna take every inch like the good little cumslut you are.”

He folded over you, chest pressed to your back, one massive hand fisting the back of your neck to shove your face harder into the mattress. The other hand snaked underneath you, two thick fingers rubbing messy circles over your swollen clit while his cock pistoned in and out, in and out, the lewd pap-pap-pap of his hips against your ass filling the room. Your pussy fluttered around him, already dripping down his balls, coating the coarse dark hair at his base.

“Fuckin’ listen to her,” he grunted, voice right against your ear. “So sloppy for me already. Missed this dick that bad, huh? Missed getting fucked stupid by your husband while our kid’s sleepin’ down the hall?”

You could only sob out a broken moan, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how deep he was hitting, how full you felt. He was relentless—pulling out until just the fat, leaking tip stretched your entrance, then slamming back in so hard the headboard knocked against the wall. His balls slapped your clit with every thrust, the wet smack-smack-smack obscene and filthy.

First orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your whole body locked up, pussy clamping down on his cock so hard he actually snarled, hips stuttering for half a second before he fucked you right through it.

“That’s it—cum on it, mommy. Cum all over daddy’s cock like you haven’t had it in weeks.”

You wailed, thighs shaking, but he didn’t stop. He just kept pounding, harder, meaner, the wet sounds of your creaming cunt getting louder as he chased his own frustration out on your body.

Second orgasm came faster. Your eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out against the pillow as your pussy gushed around him, squirting messily down his thighs and soaking the sheets. Toji groaned, low and guttural, but he still didn’t slow down.

You blinked through the haze, vision blurry, and your eyes caught the baby monitor screen on the nightstand.

Megumi.

Your three-year-old was sitting up in his crib, little face scrunched up, tiny fists rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he was having a nightmare—whimpering softly, the sound crackling through the monitor just loud enough to cut through the filthy slap of skin on skin.

“T-Toji—stop—Megumi’s—” You tried to push up, tried to reach for the monitor, panic cutting through the pleasure like ice water. “He’s having a bad dream—baby, please—”

Toji’s hand shot out and pinned your wrist to the mattress, his hips never faltering. If anything, they got meaner—deeper, harder, the lewd curve of his cock dragging right over that spot that made your brain short-circuit.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, voice pure venom and lust. “You think I’m stopping now? After a month of you choosing him over this pussy? Over me?” He leaned down, teeth scraping your ear as he fucked you even stupider, cock bullying so deep you swore you felt it in your throat. “Nah. You’re gonna stay right here and take this dick until I’m done. Until this womb’s so full you can’t even walk to his room without leaking me down your thighs.”

You sobbed, overwhelmed, pleasure and guilt crashing together as Megumi’s little whimpers filtered through the monitor. But Toji just reached over with his free hand and turned the volume down—not off, just low enough that the cries became background noise to the wet, brutal sounds of him ruining you.

“Beg for it,” he snarled, slowing his thrusts just enough to grind deep, letting you feel every inch, every vein, every throb. “Beg for daddy’s cock, mommy. Tell me you need it more than he does right now.”

You were crying, drooling, pussy clenching helplessly around him as another orgasm threatened to rip through you. “P-please—Toji—fuck—don’t stop—need it—need you—”

“Louder.” He spanked your ass hard, then gripped both cheeks and spread you open so he could watch his thick cock disappear inside your sloppy hole. “Say it like you mean it. Say ‘fuck me harder, daddy, I’m your stupid little mommy who forgot who she belongs to.’”

You broke. “Fuck me harder, daddy—please—I’m your stupid little mommy—forgot who I belong to—please, Toji, fill me up—cum in me—make me forget everything but your cock—”

He snarled in satisfaction and let go.

His hips snapped forward like a machine, brutal and unforgiving, the wet slap of his pelvis against your ass loud enough to drown out the monitor completely. He fucked you so deep, so fast, that your vision whited out. You came again—third time, harder than the others—squirting messily around his cock while he kept pounding through it, grunting like an animal.

“Atta girl. That’s my good fuckin’ mommy. Squeezin’ me so tight—gonna knock you up again just to remind you who put that baby in you in the first place.”

His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as his cock swelled impossibly thicker. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding against your cervix as the first thick rope of cum flooded you. Then another. And another. Hot, heavy spurts that painted your insides white, so much it started leaking out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him.

Toji didn’t pull out. He just collapsed over you, heavy and sweaty, still buried deep as he panted against your neck. His hand reached over lazily and turned the baby monitor volume back up.

Megumi had settled. The little whimpers had stopped; he was curled up again, breathing steady.

Toji huffed a dark, satisfied laugh against your skin, slowly grinding his softening cock through the mess he’d made.

“See? Kid’s fine. Daddy took care of mommy real good.” He nipped at your shoulder, voice dropping into that low, filthy drawl again. “Now keep that ass up. I’m nowhere near done with you tonight. Gonna fuck you full until you can’t even remember your own name—let alone his.”

He pulled out with a wet pop, cum immediately gushing out of your ruined pussy. You whimpered at the loss, but Toji just flipped you onto your back, shoved your thighs open wide, and buried his face between them.

“Gonna clean this pretty cunt up first,” he mumbled against your swollen folds, tongue dragging through the creamy mess he’d left behind. “Then I’m fucking it again. And again. Until you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to, mommy.”

You moaned, fingers threading through his messy dark hair as he ate you like a starving man—like he’d been waiting thirty-one days just for this.

And the baby monitor stayed quiet the rest of the night.

GOJO SATORU

The bedroom was bathed in that soft golden lamplight you both liked, the kind that made Gojo’s pale skin look almost unreal. Two fucking months. Nearly sixty days of blue-balled torture, and Satoru Gojo—the strongest, the cockiest, the man who usually had you bent over every surface—was losing his goddamn mind. Every single night the toddler’s tiny whimpers crackled through the baby monitor, you were up like a shot. “Mama’s coming, baby,” you’d whisper, slipping out of bed before Gojo could even grab your wrist. Overprotective didn’t even cover it. You were a helicopter mom on steroids, and he was jealous. Actually jealous of his own kid.

But tonight… tonight he’d been patient. Sweet, even.

You were on your back in the middle of the massive bed, legs spread around his hips as he kissed you deep and slow, tongue sliding against yours like he was savoring every second. His long fingers—those stupidly pretty, calloused fingers—were between your thighs, stroking your slick pussy with lazy, gentle circles. Two digits gliding up and down your folds, occasionally dipping just the tips inside to tease your entrance before pulling back to rub your swollen clit. He was rock-hard against your thigh, thick and leaking, but he hadn’t rushed. Not yet.

“Missed this so much, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and husky, that usual playful lilt softened by raw need. “Missed my pretty wife’s tight little cunt. Been so good for me, holding out like this…”

You whimpered into his mouth, hips rolling gently against his hand as he dipped two fingers deeper, curling them just right against that spongy spot inside you. He was being so sweet tonight—kissing down your neck, sucking lightly on your throat, thumb circling your clit while his fingers pumped slow and deep. Your slick coated his palm, the wet sounds soft and intimate.

Then—

“Mama…”

The baby monitor crackled to life. Just a sleepy little mumble. Your eyes snapped open, body already tensing to get up.

Gojo froze.

You started to push yourself up. “Satoru, he—”

He moved like lightning.

One big hand slammed into your chest and shoved you back down hard against the cushions, the mattress dipping under the force. His other hand snatched the baby monitor off the nightstand and shoved the glowing screen right in front of your face.

“Look,” he growled, voice dropping from sweet to dangerous in a heartbeat. “He’s fucking asleep, mommy. See that? Eyes closed. Not crying. Not even moving. Just said your name in his sleep like the little cock-block he is.”

His eyes—those brilliant, icy blue eyes—were dark now, pupils blown wide with fury and months of frustration. The gentle stroking between your legs stopped. He yanked his fingers out of you with a wet pop, making you gasp.

“Satoru—wait—”

“No.” He grabbed your thighs and shoved them wide apart, so wide your hips ached. His massive cock—long, thick, flushed angry red at the tip—slapped heavy against your soaked pussy once, twice, then he lined up and rammed in with one brutal thrust.

“Fuuuuck—!” you screamed, back arching clean off the bed as he bottomed out in a single stroke, his fat cockhead bullying straight into your cervix. He was so deep it hurt in the best way, stretching you open after two months of nothing.

Gojo didn’t give you a second to adjust. He pulled back and slammed in again, harder, the wet slap of his hips against your ass echoing obscenely. “You were gonna run again, weren’t you?” he snarled, folding you in half, knees to your chest as he started pounding you into the mattress. “Gonna leave me with my dick throbbing just because the kid mumbled in his sleep? After two fucking months?”

Each thrust was punishing—deep, mean, relentless. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal snap of his hips, the lewd pap-pap-pap-pap filling the room alongside your broken moans and his angry grunts. His cock had that perfect upward curve, dragging right over your g-spot on every stroke, bullying it until your eyes rolled back.

“Mngh—Satoru—too deep—slow down—!”

“Slow down?” He laughed, sharp and bitter, and slammed in so hard the headboard cracked against the wall. “You want slow after you’ve been cock-blocking me for sixty goddamn days? Every time I even looked at this pussy, you were already halfway down the hall to ‘check on him.’” He punctuated the words with vicious thrusts, grinding his pelvis against your clit on every inward stroke. “Well guess what, mommy? Tonight you’re not going anywhere. This cunt is mine.”

He grabbed the back of your neck and yanked you into a messy, bruising kiss, teeth clashing as he fucked you stupid. His tongue fucked your mouth in time with his cock destroying your pussy, sloppy and wet and mean. You were creaming around him already, white rings of slick forming at the base of his thick shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets.

First orgasm ripped through you without warning. Your walls clamped down like a vice, gushing around his cock as you wailed into his mouth. Gojo groaned but didn’t slow—he fucked you straight through it, hips pistoning faster, harder, the wet squelching sounds turning filthy.

“That’s one,” he panted against your lips. “Give me another. I want this pussy sobbing for me.”

He pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your stomach, and shoved your face into the pillows. Ass up, back arched deep, exactly how he liked you. He re-entered in one savage thrust, folding over your back so his chest pressed against you, one hand fisting your hair while the other reached around to rub your clit in tight, mean circles.

“Fuck—Satoru—ahh!” you cried, voice muffled by the pillow as he railed you from behind. His cock was even deeper at this angle, the curved tip kissing your cervix with every brutal plunge. He was so long he made your belly bulge slightly with each thrust—you could feel it when you reached down, the outline of his massive dick ruining you.

“Yeah? Feel that?” He pressed his hand over the bulge, grinding deep. “That’s daddy’s cock owning this womb again. Two months of nothing and you’re still this fucking tight? Greedy little mommy.”

The baby monitor stayed quiet, but Gojo still glared at it like it personally offended him. He reached over and turned the volume all the way down, then spanked your ass hard—once, twice, three times—leaving bright red handprints on your skin.

Second orgasm hit you even harder. Your legs shook violently, pussy squirting messily around his cock as you screamed his name. Gojo snarled in satisfaction, hips stuttering before he doubled down, fucking you through it with short, punishing strokes that made your eyes cross.

“You’re not done,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Not until I’ve filled this sloppy cunt so full you’ll be leaking me for days. Until you remember who the fuck you belong to.”

He pulled out again, flipped you onto your back, and shoved your legs over his shoulders. The new angle let him drive impossibly deeper. His thrusts turned erratic—wild, desperate, angry—his heavy balls tightening as he chased his own release. Sweat dripped from his white hair onto your tits, his abs flexing with every savage snap of his hips.

“Beg for it,” he demanded, thumb pressing hard on your clit. “Beg daddy to cum in you. Tell me you’re sorry for neglecting this dick.”

“I’m sorry—fuck—Satoru—daddy—please cum in me—fill me up—please—!”

That broke him.

Gojo buried himself to the hilt with a guttural moan, cock throbbing violently as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb. Pulse after pulse, so much it immediately started leaking out around his shaft, creamy white mixing with your slick and dripping down your ass. He kept grinding through it, milking every last drop into you, eyes half-lidded in feral bliss.

But he wasn’t done.

Even as he softened slightly, he stayed buried deep, slowly rolling his hips to push his cum deeper. His hand moved back to your clit, rubbing tight circles again.

“Third one,” he murmured, voice dark. “You’re gonna cum on my cock while it’s still stuffed full of my load. Then I’m fucking you again. All night, mommy. Until that monitor stays quiet and you can’t even walk tomorrow.”

You whimpered, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but your hips still rolled weakly against him, pussy fluttering around his spent cock as another orgasm started building.

Gojo leaned down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.

“That’s my good girl. Now take the rest like you owe me two months of this pussy.”

And he started moving again—slow at first, then faster, meaner, ready to ruin you until sunrise. The baby monitor stayed silent on the nightstand, but Gojo’s filthy groans and the wet, relentless slap of skin on skin filled the room for hours.

He was finally collecting what was his.

HIGURUMA HIROMI

The bedroom door clicked shut behind Higuruma with a soft, final sound that felt louder than it should. One whole month. Thirty agonizing nights of your five-year-old son slipping into your bed after another nightmare, tiny body wedging itself right between you and your husband like a living cock-block. Every time things got heated—every single time Hiromi’s hands had finally slid under your shirt, his mouth on your neck, cock already straining against his slacks—there’d be that knock. Or the creak of the door. Or the sleepy little voice calling “Mama…” right as your panties were about to come off.

He was ten years older than you, patient by nature, but even Hiromi Higuruma had his limits. Tonight, though, he’d played dirty.

After you’d tucked your son in, kissed his forehead, and murmured sweet dreams, Hiromi had lingered in the doorway.

“Hey, kiddo,” he’d said, voice low and calm like always. “Just saying… if you stay in your own bed all night tonight, I’ll take you to the amusement park tomorrow. The big one. All the rides you want.”

Your son’s eyes had gone wide, a squeal ripping out of him. “Yes! Please, Dad!”

Good.

Now the house was quiet. No footsteps in the hall. No baby monitor crackling with nightmares. Just the two of you.

Hiromi didn’t waste a second.

The moment the bedroom door locked, he was on you—tall frame crowding you back against the bed until your knees hit the mattress. His suit jacket was already discarded, tie loosened, the top buttons of his shirt open to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. At thirty-eight, he still had that lean, powerful build, shoulders broad from years of sorcery work, hands veined and strong as they grabbed your waist and tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing.

“You’ve been teasing me for thirty fucking nights, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice deceptively calm, the way it got right before he unraveled. “Every time I finally get my mouth on that pretty pussy, our son decides he needs Mommy more. I’m done being patient.”

He climbed over you, caging you in, and kissed you hard—deep, hungry, tongue sliding against yours with ten years of experience and a month of pure frustration. His hand shoved your nightdress up to your waist, fingers immediately finding your bare cunt. You weren’t wearing panties. You’d hoped. He groaned into your mouth when he felt how wet you already were.

“Already soaked for me? After edging your poor husband for a month?” Two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your back arch. “Look at you. My pretty young wife… dripping like a slut just from a kiss.”

You moaned, hips rolling against his hand as he pumped his fingers slow and deep, thumb circling your swollen clit with maddening precision. He knew your body better than you did. He edged you beautifully—bringing you right to the brink with those long, skilled fingers, then slowing down the second your walls started fluttering. Over and over.

“Daddy—” The word slipped out, breathy and desperate. You only called him that when you were losing your mind.

Hiromi’s eyes darkened behind his glasses. He pulled his fingers out, ignoring your whine, and stripped. Shirt tossed aside, pants shoved down just enough to free his cock—long, thick, the head already flushed dark and leaking precum. Veins stood out along the shaft, pulsing with need.

He grabbed your thighs and spread you open obscenely wide, then dragged the fat head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance, bumping your clit, never pushing in.

“You want it?” he asked, voice low and rough. “After making me wait a month? Beg, baby. Call me Daddy and beg properly.”

“Please, Daddy,” you whimpered, trying to rock down onto him. “Please fuck me— I need your cock, been so empty—”

He pushed in halfway, stretching you open, then stopped. Just the thick head and a few inches, letting you feel the burn.

“Not good enough.” He rocked shallowly, only giving you that little bit, thumb still torturing your clit. “Tell me how sorry you are for letting our son cock-block me every night.”

“I’m sorry—fuck—Daddy, I’m so sorry—please, I need all of it—”

He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

You screamed, back bowing clean off the bed as his cock bottomed out, pressing hard against your cervix. He was so deep it made your belly bulge faintly, and Hiromi pressed a hand there, feeling it.

“That’s right,” he growled, starting to fuck you in long, punishing strokes. “Take every inch, sweetheart. This pussy belongs to Daddy. Not to midnight cuddles with our son.”

The wet slap of his hips against your ass filled the room—filthy, loud, obscene. He fucked you like he’d been holding back for years, not just a month. Deep, hard, relentless. Every thrust dragged his thick cock over that perfect spot inside you until you were seeing stars.

He edged you mercilessly.

Right when your walls started clamping down, orgasm so close you could taste it, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. Then he’d flip you—onto your stomach, ass up, and eat your pussy from behind like a starving man. Tongue fucking into you, lips sucking your clit, scar on his lip rubbing deliciously against your folds. He’d bring you right to the edge again, then stop. Flip you back. Slide back inside. Fuck you stupid for a few minutes, then pull out again.

“Daddy—please—please let me cum—” you sobbed the fourth time he denied you, tears streaming down your face, pussy swollen and drooling all over the sheets. “I can’t— I need it— been so good—”

Hiromi chuckled darkly, sweat dripping from his brow as he stroked his glistening cock over your trembling body. “You think you’ve been good? Thirty nights, baby. Thirty nights I went to sleep hard as a rock because you chose him over me.”

He shoved back in, folding you in half, knees by your ears in a mating press. The new angle made him hit even deeper, cock bullying your cervix with every savage snap of his hips. His heavy balls slapped wetly against your ass, the lewd pap-pap-pap-pap mixing with your broken cries.

“Call me Daddy again,” he demanded, grinding deep, pelvis rubbing your clit on every thrust. “Tell me who this womb belongs to.”

“Daddy—fuck—Daddy, it’s yours—my pussy is yours—please cum in me—fill me up—”

He fucked you harder, pace brutal, glasses slightly fogged. The headboard slammed against the wall. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You were creaming around his cock, white rings coating the base, dripping down to soak his balls.

When he finally let you cum, it shattered you.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave—walls clamping down violently, squirting messily around his cock as you screamed his name. Hiromi groaned, fucking you straight through it, prolonging it until you were shaking and sobbing.

Only then did he let himself go.

He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural moan, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your womb. Pulse after pulse, so much it immediately started leaking out around his cock, creamy and obscene. He kept grinding through his orgasm, pushing it deeper, making sure every drop stayed inside his pretty young wife.

But he didn’t pull out.

Instead, he flipped you again, this time onto your side, spooning behind you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand reaching down to lazily play with your oversensitive clit while his cock—still hard, still leaking—started moving again in slow, deep rolls.

“First round was for me,” he murmured against your ear, voice wrecked but satisfied. “Now we’re going to take our time. I’m edging this perfect cunt until sunrise. Until you’re begging Daddy to knock you up again just so you remember who you come home to every night.”

You whimpered, already fluttering around him, hips weakly pushing back.

The house stayed quiet. No knocks. No nightmares.

Just the wet, filthy sounds of Hiromi Higuruma finally claiming his wife—long, detailed, and intensely—until the sheets were ruined and you couldn’t remember anything but his name.

CHOSO KAMO

The bedroom was thick with tension, the kind that had been simmering for three long, agonizing months. Three months since Choso had last been inside you. Three months of him biting his tongue, jerking off quietly in the shower so he wouldn’t “annoy” you, telling himself it was fine—your son needed you more right now. The toddler had been going through a brutal phase: night terrors, separation anxiety, crawling into your bed every single night like a tiny, unintentional cock-block. Choso loved the kid. He really did. But fuck, he was only human. And his cock had been aching for his pretty wife for so damn long he was starting to lose his mind.

Tonight, though, you were the one who snapped.

You’d put your son down after another hour of rocking and stories, finally closing the nursery door with a soft click. When you stepped back into the master bedroom, Choso was already in bed—shirtless, dark hair messy, sweatpants doing nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline of his neglected cock. He looked up at you with those tired, blood-red eyes, soft and patient like always, ready to just hold you and fall asleep.

But you were done waiting.

You crawled onto the bed without a word, shoving the blankets down and yanking his sweatpants low enough to free his cock. It sprang up, thick and veiny, the flushed head already glistening with precum after months of nothing. Choso’s breath hitched.

“Baby— you don’t have to—”

“Shut up, Choso.” Your voice was husky, needy. You wrapped both hands around his massive length—still not enough to fully circle it—and leaned down, dragging your tongue slowly up the underside from base to tip. He groaned, low and broken, hips twitching.

You took him into your mouth like you were starving. The fat head stretched your lips wide as you sank down, tongue swirling, sucking hard. Saliva dripped down his shaft as you bobbed, taking him deeper each time until he bumped the back of your throat. Choso’s hand fisted the sheets, the other gently threading through your hair, not pushing—just holding on for dear life.

“F-fuck… so warm… your mouth—ahh—” His voice cracked, thighs trembling. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him messily, gagging softly when you forced more of his girth down your throat. The wet, obscene gluck-gluck-gluck sounds filled the room as you worshipped every inch—licking the thick veins, sucking on his heavy balls, then diving back down until your nose pressed against his pelvis.

Choso was panting, muscles tight, trying so hard not to thrust up into your throat. “Baby… gonna cum if you keep—ngh—”

You pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his cock. “Not yet.” You stripped fast—nightdress tossed aside, panties soaked and flung across the room. Climbing on top of him, you straddled his hips, gripping his throbbing cock and rubbing the fat head through your dripping folds.

You were soaked. Three months of frustration had left you aching and empty, pussy clenching around nothing as you finally sank down.

The stretch was brutal. Delicious. His cock was so thick it split you open, inch after veiny inch disappearing into your tight heat until you were seated fully on his lap, belly bulging slightly from how deep he was. You both moaned—loud, raw.

“Choso—fuck, you’re so big…” You started riding him immediately, hands braced on his toned chest, rolling your hips in deep, needy circles before bouncing. Your tits swayed with every movement, ass slapping against his thighs. Wet squelching noises echoed as your creamy pussy coated his shaft, dripping down to soak his balls.

Choso’s hands rested on your waist at first, eyes half-lidded in bliss, watching the way your cunt swallowed him over and over. “So tight… missed this pussy so much… been so patient…” His voice was wrecked, low and raspy.

But after three months, patience snapped.

His fingers dug into your hips—strong, bruising grip—and suddenly he took over. He planted his feet on the bed and started thrusting up into you like a man possessed. Hard. Fast. Relentless. You didn’t have to move at all. He was fucking you from below, yanking your hips down to meet every brutal upward snap of his pelvis.

“Choso—ahh! Fuck—slow down—!” you cried, but your walls fluttered greedily around him, gushing fresh slick.

He didn’t slow. Couldn’t.

His hips pistoned up like a machine, cock slamming into your cervix with every thrust. The wet pap-pap-pap-pap of skin on skin was deafening, your ass rippling from the force. He held you in place, forcing you to take every thick inch as he railed you, the curved head of his cock bullying that spongy spot inside you mercilessly.

“Three months,” he growled, voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, eyes glowing with feral need. “Three fucking months I waited. Jerked off thinking about this tight cunt every night while you were busy being Mommy.” He slammed up harder, grinding deep on every thrust so his pelvis rubbed your swollen clit. “Now you’re gonna take it. All of it.”

You could only sob and moan, body jolting violently on top of him. Your hands scrambled for purchase on his chest, nails digging into his skin as he fucked you stupid. The bulge in your lower belly appeared and disappeared with every savage thrust, his cock rearranging your insides.

First orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your pussy clamped down hard, squirting messily around his cock as you screamed, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Choso didn’t stop—he fucked you straight through it, hips snapping even faster, the wet sounds turning sloppier, filthier.

“Good girl—cum on it—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—” He flipped you suddenly without pulling out, putting you on your back and folding your legs up to your chest in a deep mating press. The new angle let him drive even deeper, cock kissing your cervix with bruising force on every stroke.

He was panting against your neck, dark hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping onto your tits as he pounded you into the mattress. “Gonna fill you up. Been saving so much cum for this pussy. Gonna make it drip out for days.”

You were babbling, incoherent— “Choso—daddy—please—too much—cum in me—!”

That word broke him.

He snarled, hips stuttering before he buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb—pulse after heavy pulse, so much it immediately overflowed, creamy white leaking out around his cock as he kept grinding deep, pushing it further inside you.

But he stayed hard. Still throbbing.

He pulled out only long enough to flip you onto your stomach, ass up, face down. Then he mounted you again, sliding back into your cum-stuffed pussy in one smooth thrust and starting that brutal pace all over again. His hands gripped your ass cheeks, spreading them so he could watch his thick cock disappear into your wrecked hole, cum frothing at the base with every thrust.

“Again,” he growled, voice hoarse. “Ride wasn’t enough. I need to fuck you until you can’t walk. Until the only thing you remember is how deep I can get.”

He railed you like that for what felt like hours—switching positions whenever he felt like it, but always taking control, always making your body move exactly how he wanted. You came again and again—second, third, fourth time—until your voice was raw and your thighs were trembling nonstop. Each orgasm milked more cum out of him until the sheets were absolutely ruined, soaked with sweat, slick, and his seed.

By the time he finally collapsed on top of you, cock still buried deep and twitching with aftershocks, you were a limp, drooling, cum-filled mess. Choso pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, breathing hard, arms wrapped possessively around your waist.

“Never letting it go three months again,” he murmured, voice soft now, but still edged with that raw hunger. “Next time you’re frustrated… you come to me. Understand?”

You could only whimper and nod, pussy still fluttering weakly around his spent cock.

The baby monitor stayed blessedly quiet all night. And Choso finally got to hold his wife the way he’d been aching to—full, claimed, and thoroughly fucked.

NANAMI KENTO

The front door clicked shut with a decisive sound that made you glance up from the kitchen counter. You were still in your loose tank top and panties, hair messy, timer set for when you’d have to leave to pick up your toddler from kindergarten in less than an hour. Nanami wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. Yet there he stood in the doorway—tie already loosened, jacket slung over one arm, blond hair slightly disheveled, jaw tight with something dark and hungry in his usually composed eyes.

“Kento?” you asked, surprised, a small smile forming. “You’re home early—”

He crossed the room in three long strides, dropped his things, and cupped your face with both large hands. The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t the gentle, reverent press of lips you’d grown used to over the years. This was starving—teeth clashing, tongue demanding entrance, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he backed you hard against the counter.

“A year,” he growled against your mouth, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it. “Over a fucking year, sweetheart. I’ve been patient. I was gentle when you were pregnant. I waited when you were exhausted with the newborn. I held back every single night the toddler climbed into our bed.” His hands slid down, gripping your ass and lifting you onto the counter in one smooth motion. “No more.”

Your breath hitched. Nanami had always been soft—slow, deep thrusts, whispered praises, eyes locked on yours while he made love to you like you were something sacred. But the man pinning you now looked like he was about to snap.

He didn’t give you time to respond. He yanked your tank top up and off, mouth latching onto one breast, sucking hard enough to make you moan sharply. His other hand shoved your panties aside, two thick fingers plunging straight into your cunt without warning. You were already wet—just from the intensity rolling off him.

“Kento—ahh—!”

“Quiet.” He curled his fingers, stroking that spot inside you with ruthless precision while his thumb ground against your clit. “You’re going to take everything I give you today. No gentleness. Not after I’ve been walking around with a hard-on for months because my own child cock-blocks me every night.”

He finger-fucked you right there on the counter until your legs shook, then pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean with a dark, satisfied hum. Before you could catch your breath, he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing and carried you to the bedroom.

The door slammed shut. He tossed you onto the bed face-down, the mattress bouncing under you. You barely had time to push up on your elbows before he was behind you, stripping off his shirt and slacks. His cock sprang free—heavy, thick, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. He’d always been big, but right now he looked almost painfully hard.

“Hands,” he ordered.

You obeyed instinctively, wrists together behind your back. Nanami grabbed his silk tie from the discarded pile of clothes and bound your wrists tightly, knotting it with practiced efficiency. The silk dug into your skin just enough to make your pussy clench.

He shoved a pillow under your hips, forcing your ass up high, back arched deep. Then he gripped your bound wrists with one hand like a handle and lined up.

No teasing. No slow push.

He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

“Fuuuuck—” you screamed into the mattress, eyes rolling back. The stretch burned deliciously after so long, his thick cock forcing your walls apart, bottoming out so deep you felt him in your stomach.

Nanami groaned, deep and guttural, hips flush against your ass. “So fucking tight… still my perfect little wife.” He pulled back almost all the way, then drove in again—harder. The wet slap of his hips meeting your ass cracked through the room like a whip.

He set a punishing pace immediately. No warm-up. No mercy. Just raw, animalistic fucking. Each thrust was deep and mean, his heavy balls slapping your clit on every inward stroke. The curved head of his cock battered your cervix relentlessly, the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy echoing obscenely.

“Year and a half of nothing,” he snarled, yanking on your bound wrists to pull you back onto his cock. “You’re going to feel every single day I waited.”

Backshots like this—ass up, face down, wrists tied—had never happened with him. He was relentless. Hips snapping forward with powerful, controlled force, every thrust making your ass ripple and your toes curl. The pillow under your hips kept you perfectly angled for him to destroy that sweet spot inside you over and over.

You came embarrassingly fast—the first orgasm ripping through you without warning, walls clamping down around his thick shaft as you squirted messily around him.

Nanami didn’t slow. He fucked you straight through it, pace brutal, sweat already glistening on his chest.

“That’s one,” he grunted. “Give me another.”

He released your wrists only long enough to flip you onto your back, then immediately tied them to the headboard above your head. Now he could see your face—tears of overstimulation already streaking your cheeks, mouth open in constant moans. He shoved your thighs wide apart and drove back in, folding you nearly in half.

The new angle was even deeper. His pelvis ground against your clit on every savage thrust, cock bullying your insides until you were babbling.

“Kento—too much—fuck—slow—ahh!”

“Not slow,” he growled, leaning down to bite your neck hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re going to cum again on this cock. Then again. Until you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to.”

He pounded you mercilessly, the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust. Your tits bounced violently. The wet pap-pap-pap-pap of skin on skin mixed with your broken cries and his low, ragged grunts. When your second orgasm hit, you screamed, back arching clean off the bed, pussy gushing around him.

Nanami pulled out suddenly, flipped you back onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up again. He re-entered in one brutal stroke and gave you the best backshots of your life—hips snapping like a machine, one hand fisted in your hair, the other slapping your ass hard enough to leave red handprints.

“Look at this ass,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Bouncing so pretty for me. Taking my cock like you were made for it.” Another hard slap. “Say it. Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“You—Kento—fuck—only you—daddy—please—”

The honorific made him snarl. He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, mean circles while railing you even harder. Your third orgasm crashed over you so intensely your vision whited out, body shaking violently as you soaked the sheets and his thighs.

Only then did Nanami let himself go.

He buried himself to the hilt with a deep, broken moan, cock pulsing violently as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb. Pulse after heavy pulse—months of pent-up frustration emptying into you until it overflowed, creamy white leaking out around his shaft and dripping down your thighs.

He didn’t pull out. He kept grinding deep, slow and possessive, pushing his load further inside while you twitched and whimpered from overstimulation.

“Thirty minutes left before you have to pick him up,” he murmured against your ear, voice still dark. He reached up and loosened the tie just enough to free your wrists, but stayed buried inside you. “That’s enough time for one more round.”

He pulled out only to flip you onto your side, spooning behind you. One strong arm hooked under your knee, spreading you open as he slid back in and started thrusting again—still rough, still deep, but now with the added grind against your clit.

“You’re going to walk out that door leaking my cum down your thighs,” he promised, teeth scraping your shoulder. “And tonight, after the toddler’s asleep, I’m taking you again. Properly. Until you can’t remember a single day we went without this.”

You could only moan and push back against him, pussy fluttering around his still-hard cock as another orgasm started building.

For the first time in over a year, Nanami Kento wasn’t gentle.

And you loved every brutal second of it.

[hibiscript]

this made my lunch break btw

[aransmind]

pretty boy

[hibiscript]

fucking hell

[fayelero]

JUST SIT ON IT !

-> just trust them when they ask you to sit on their face

ft. toji, gojo, geto, choso, sukuna, higuruma.

cw. mdni. explicit content, established relationship, face riding, tongue fucking, nose riding (higuruma), praise kink, dirty talk, overstimulation.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

"can you sit on it?"

toji’s sprawled out on the bed like he owns the damn thing, shirtless, that dingy white tank tossed somewhere on the floor hours ago. his murky dark hair’s a mess from your fingers earlier, scarred lip curled in that lazy, shit-eating smirk while he palms his fat cock through his sweats. the room still smells like the two of you—sweat, cum, that cheap cologne he wears that always sticks to your skin for days. you’re straddling his thighs already, panties soaked and sticking to your puffy cunt, thinking he’s about to yank you down and split you open again like he always does.

you bite your lip, already rocking your hips a little, thinking fuck yeah—ride him reverse cowgirl so he can watch that ass bounce like he loves. your hands slide up his chest, nails dragging over the hard ridges of his abs. “yeah? you want me to ride you, baby?”

toji’s smirk widens, dangerous. he doesn’t grab your hips like usual. instead he taps two thick fingers against his own mouth—those scarred lips, the one with that sexy little slit right in the middle—and tilts his head back against the pillow. “nah. sit on it. right here.”

your brain short-circuits for a second. you freeze, thighs squeezing around his waist like you can hide how your pussy just clenched hard enough to leak fresh slick down your inner thigh. “toji… you mean—on your face?”

he chuckles, deep and nasty, the sound vibrating through his chest. “what the fuck else would i mean, dumbass? c’mere. sit that pretty pussy on my tongue and let me eat.”

heat floods your face so fast it burns. you shake your head quick, trying to scoot back off his lap even though your cunt is throbbing at the idea. “no. no way. that’s—that’s too embarrassing, toji. i can’t just—sit on your face like that. what if i suffocate you or—or it’s too much or—”

he cuts you off with a rough palm sliding up your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave fingerprints. “too embarrassing?” his voice drops, mocking. “after i’ve had you bent over the kitchen counter with my tongue in your ass? after you’ve squirted all over my face twice this week already? c’mon, babygirl. don’t get shy on me now.”

you whine, hiding your face in your hands, but your hips twitch anyway, betraying you. his fingers keep stroking higher, teasing the soaked crotch of your panties, pressing the fabric right against your swollen clit until you gasp. “toji… i dunno…”

“yeah you do.” he yanks you forward by the hips, manhandling you up his body until your knees are planted on either side of his head. the mattress dips under your weight. you’re hovering now, thighs trembling, that dripping cunt inches above his mouth. his breath is hot against your panties, making you shiver. “look at her. already fuckin’ drooling for me. you really gonna make me beg, huh?”

you peek down through your fingers. toji’s staring up at you like a starving man, green eyes dark, tongue sliding slow and deliberate over that scarred lip. the sight makes your stomach flip and your pussy clench so hard you feel it in your toes. “i… i don’t wanna hurt you—”

he laughs again, the sound pure filth. “hurt me? princess, i want you to fuckin’ smother me. i want this sloppy little cunt grinding all over my face till i can’t breathe. now sit. before i drag you down myself.”

you hesitate one more second—heart hammering, face burning, pussy absolutely weeping—then slowly lower yourself. the second your soaked panties brush his mouth, toji groans like you just fed him heaven. he hooks two fingers in the crotch and yanks them to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening folds completely.

“fuuuck, there she is,” he growls, hot breath fanning over your clit. “look at that pretty pussy. all puffy and drippy just from me talkin’ dirty. c’mere, baby—sit.”

you sink the rest of the way down.

his tongue is on you instantly—thick, hot, and filthy. he drags it slow and flat from your leaking hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, lapping up every drop of slick like he’s been dying for it. the scar on his lip catches on your sensitive flesh and you jolt, a broken “ah—!” ripping out of you.

“mngh—toji—!”

he doesn’t give you time to adjust. both huge hands grip your ass cheeks and spread you wide open, thumbs digging into the soft meat so he can bury his face deeper. his nose grinds right against your clit while his tongue fucks into your cunt—wet, obscene slurping sounds filling the room as he eats you like a man possessed. loud, messy, starving. sluuuurp—sluuuurp—sluuuurp.

your hands fly to the headboard for balance, thighs shaking so bad you almost collapse. “oh my god—fuck—your tongue—!”

toji hums against your pussy, the vibration shooting straight to your core. he pulls back just enough to spit a thick glob of saliva right on your clit, then sucks it back in with your juices, lips wrapping around the swollen nub and suckling hard. your eyes roll back. your hips twitch involuntarily, grinding down harder.

“that’s it,” he mumbles into your cunt, voice muffled and wet. “ride my fuckin’ face, pretty girl. use me. grind that sloppy pussy all over my tongue like the nasty little thing you are.”

embarrassment burns in your chest but the pleasure is so much louder. you start moving—slow at first, rolling your hips in tiny circles, smearing your slick all over his mouth, his nose, his chin. every time you drag your clit over that scar it feels like lightning. toji’s groaning nonstop now, the sound vibrating through your folds, making your walls flutter.

“f-fuck—feels so good—your mouth—ahh—!” you whine, voice cracking.

he spanks your ass hard, the sharp smack echoing. “louder. i wanna hear how good i’m eating this pussy. c’mon—ride me proper.”

you break.

your hips snap down harder, grinding with purpose now, fucking yourself on his tongue like it’s his cock. the wet, filthy sounds get louder—schlick-schlick-schlick—your juices and his spit dripping down his chin, soaking the sheets under his head. toji’s tongue is everywhere: spearing deep into your hole, curling against that spongy spot inside you, flicking your clit in rapid little strokes, then sucking it back into his mouth so hard your toes curl.

“toji—shit—i’m—i’m gonna—!”

he growls, the sound animalistic, and shoves his tongue even deeper, nose buried so tight against your clit you see stars. one hand leaves your ass to reach up and pinch your nipple through your tank top, twisting just right. the other hand stays glued to your ass, guiding you, forcing you to ride his face faster, messier.

your thighs are trembling violently now. you’re not even pretending to be quiet anymore—loud, shameless moans and whimpers pouring out of you while you hump his face like a bitch in heat. “toji—fuck—your tongue feels so fucking good—don’t stop—please don’t stop—!”

he answers by sucking your clit harder, tongue lashing side to side, spit and slick absolutely everywhere. it’s dripping down his neck, coating his stubble, making the most obscene wet noises you’ve ever heard. your pussy is clenching, fluttering, gushing. you can feel it building—hot, intense, almost scary.

“gonna—gonna cum—gonna cum on your face—!”

toji moans loud and deep, the vibration pushing you straight over the edge.

you shatter.

your whole body locks up, thighs clamping around his head like a vice as you grind down hard, riding out the orgasm on his tongue. your cunt spasms, squirting clear slick all over his mouth, his chin, his neck—messy, filthy, soaking him completely. you’re screaming his name, head thrown back, hips jerking wildly while he keeps licking and sucking and drinking every drop like he’s dying of thirst.

“mngh—fuck—yes—good girl—keep fuckin’ cumming—give it all to me—!”

you don’t stop. the orgasm rolls into another one almost immediately because he doesn’t let up—tongue still buried deep, lips suctioned around your clit, sucking through the aftershocks until you’re sobbing and shaking and trying to lift off because it’s too much.

toji yanks you right back down with both hands, burying his face even deeper.

“where the fuck you goin’? i ain’t done. sit. keep ridin’ this tongue till i say so.”

you whimper, broken and overwhelmed, but your hips start moving again—slow, sloppy rolls at first, then faster as the pleasure builds right back up. your second orgasm hits even harder, pussy gushing all over his face again while you ride him like you’re trying to break his neck.

toji’s groaning nonstop now, the sound pure sex, his cock twitching untouched against his abs, leaking all over his stomach. he’s rock hard just from eating you, from the way you’re smothering him, from the way your thighs are shaking around his ears.

“that’s my nasty girl,” he growls between long, filthy licks. “look at you—ridin’ my face like you were born for it. pussy so fuckin’ wet it’s drippin’ down my throat. you love this, don’t you? love smotherin’ your man with this greedy little cunt.”

you can’t even speak anymore—just broken moans and whimpers and his name over and over while you grind and ride and cum again, soaking his face completely. your juices are everywhere—shiny on his cheeks, dripping from his chin, matting his hair. he looks wrecked. he looks fucking gorgeous.

toji finally pulls back just enough to gasp for air, lips swollen and glistening, scar shiny with your cum. he grins up at you, eyes half-lidded and feral.

“good fuckin’ girl. now keep that arch—i’m still starved.”

and he dives right back in, tongue spearing deep, sucking your clit like he wants to pull another orgasm out of you before you even catch your breath.

you’re not getting off this face anytime soon.

and honestly?

you don’t want to.

GOJO SATORU

you’re straddling gojo’s lap on the massive couch in his penthouse, the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him like nothing matters but the ache between your thighs. you’ve been horny all damn day—wet since morning, panties ruined from just thinking about him, and now he’s home, blindfold off, those insane blue eyes glowing with that cocky, knowing smirk while his big hands rest on your hips. your skirt’s already hiked up, slick soaking through the thin fabric of your panties and smearing against the bulge in his pants.

“satoru… please,” you whimper, grinding down on him slow and needy, voice all breathy and desperate. “help me out. i’m so fucking wet it hurts.”

gojo chuckles low, that rich, teasing sound that always makes your pussy flutter. he tilts his head, white hair messy from your fingers earlier, lips curved in that infuriatingly hot way. “sit on it then.”

you blink, heart skipping. your hips stutter against him. “i what?”

he licks his lips—slow, deliberate, that pretty pink tongue dragging over them like he’s already tasting you. his eyes drop to your soaked crotch, then back up, darker now, pupils blown wide. “sit on it, baby. right on my tongue. c’mon… don’t make me wait when that pretty pussy’s crying for me.”

fuck. the words hit you like a spark straight to your clit. heat floods your face but it only makes you wetter—slick gushing fresh between your folds, panties clinging obscenely. you’re hornier than you’ve ever been, thighs trembling around his waist as you stare at that perfect mouth. “satoru…”

“yeah?” he grins, hands sliding up under your skirt to squeeze your ass, spreading your cheeks a little like he’s already imagining it. “you heard me. sit on my face and ride it till you can’t think straight. i want that sloppy cunt smothering me.”

you don’t even hesitate anymore. you shove him back against the couch cushions, climbing higher, knees sinking into the soft leather on either side of his head. gojo’s already licking his lips again, eyes locked on your dripping core like it’s his favorite meal. you hook your fingers in your panties and yank them to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening pussy—swollen clit peeking out, folds shiny and messy with arousal.

“fuck… look at her,” he groans, voice dropping into that husky register that makes your stomach flip. “so fucking pretty and wet. all for me.”

you lower yourself slowly at first, hovering just above his mouth, teasing. his hot breath fans over your sensitive flesh and you shiver hard. then his hands grip your ass tight and pull you down.

the second your cunt meets his tongue, you both moan.

gojo doesn’t start gentle—he never does. his thick tongue drags flat and heavy from your leaking hole all the way up to your throbbing clit in one long, filthy stripe, collecting every drop of your slick like he’s starving. “mmph—fuck, baby, you taste so good,” he mumbles right against your pussy, the vibration shooting sparks up your spine.

“ah—satoru—!” your hands fly to the back of the couch for balance as he dives in deeper. his lips seal around your clit and suck, tongue flicking fast and nasty against the swollen nub while his nose presses into your mound. loud, wet slurping sounds fill the room instantly—obscene, messy schlick-schlurp-schlurp as he eats you like a man who’s been denied for weeks.

your thighs shake. you can’t help it—you start grinding, rolling your hips in slow circles, smearing your juices all over his mouth, his chin, the tip of his nose. gojo groans loud and deep, the sound muffled between your legs but vibrating straight through your core. his tongue pushes inside you, fucking in and out, curling against that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back.

“oh my god—your tongue—fuck, it’s so deep—” you whine, voice cracking as pleasure crashes over you. you’re riding his face now, properly, hips moving faster, ass bouncing lightly with every roll. his hands knead your cheeks, spreading you wider so he can bury himself even deeper, tongue thrusting harder, lips sucking noisily on your clit.

he’s rock hard underneath you. you can feel his massive cock straining against his pants, twitching and throbbing every time you grind down and moan his name. gojo’s groaning nonstop now—deep, guttural sounds that get louder the messier you get. your slick is everywhere: dripping down his chin, coating his cheeks, soaking into the collar of his shirt. the wet sounds are filthy, pornographic—your pussy squelching against his tongue, his lips smacking loudly as he devours you.

“satoru—shit—feels so fucking good—!” you cry out, leaning forward, one hand tangling in his snowy hair as you ride him harder. your clit drags over that perfect tongue over and over, the pressure building fast and intense. he’s sucking on it now, alternating between hard pulls and rapid flicks that make your toes curl and your vision blur.

gojo pulls back just enough to gasp, lips shiny and swollen, strings of your arousal connecting his mouth to your cunt. “that’s it, baby—ride my tongue. fuck my face like you mean it,” he pants, voice wrecked. then he dives back in, tongue spearing deep again, groaning so loud it sends fresh vibrations through your walls. “mmph—go faster. c’mon, pretty girl… you can do better than that.”

you whimper at the teasing edge in his voice, the way he’s challenging you even while buried in your pussy. it makes you feral. your hips snap down harder, grinding faster, riding his tongue with shameless abandon. ass bouncing, thighs flexing, you’re fully using his face now—smothering him, drowning him in wet heat. every roll of your hips makes his cock jump visibly in his pants, pre-cum staining the front as he gets off just from how nasty you’re being.

“faster? like this—?” you gasp, voice high and broken, grinding down in quick, filthy circles. your clit catches on his tongue with every movement, pleasure spiking sharper, hotter. gojo’s hands slap your ass hard—once, twice—encouraging you, urging you on.

“yeah—fuck yeah, just like that,” he growls against your folds, the words slurred and wet. “grind that greedy little clit on me. make a mess all over my face, baby. i want you dripping down my throat.”

you’re losing it. the pleasure is overwhelming—intense, blinding. your pussy clenches around his thrusting tongue, gushing fresh slick that he eagerly drinks down with loud, greedy slurps. you’re riding him like you’re trying to cum on his face in record time, moans turning into broken sobs as the coil tightens unbearably.

“satoru—i’m—i’m gonna cum—fuck—!”

he moans loud and filthy in response, sucking your clit hard between his lips while his tongue lashes wildly. one hand slides up to pinch your nipple through your top, twisting just right, while the other keeps your ass pressed down so you can’t escape the onslaught.

you shatter with a scream.

your thighs clamp around his head as the orgasm rips through you, pussy spasming hard, squirting clear slick all over his tongue, his face, his hair. you keep riding through it—hips jerking, grinding, prolonging the high while gojo drinks every drop, groaning like he’s the one cumming. his cock is throbbing violently now, straining painfully against his zipper, leaking steadily.

but he doesn’t stop.

even as you’re shaking and whimpering from oversensitivity, he keeps licking—slow, deep strokes through your fluttering folds, cleaning you up while teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. “good girl… but you’re not done yet,” he mumbles, voice thick with your cum. “keep riding. i want another one. faster this time, baby—show me how bad you need it.”

you’re panting, thighs trembling uncontrollably, but the heat in your belly is already building again. you look down at him—his face a complete mess, lips puffy and glistening, eyes half-lidded and glowing with pure lust—and something inside you snaps.

you start riding again. harder. faster. wilder.

your ass bounces on his face with wet, filthy smacks, clit dragging relentlessly over his tongue as you chase the next high. gojo’s groaning constantly now, the vibrations pushing you closer, his cock so hard it looks like it might rip through his pants. every time you slam down, he thrusts his tongue deeper, sucking noisily, encouraging you with muffled praises and filthy commands.

“that’s my nasty fucking girlfriend—use my face. faster—c’mon, grind it. make me choke on this pretty pussy.”

you do. you ride his tongue like it’s the only thing you were made for—moaning, sobbing, soaking him completely while another orgasm builds fast and brutal. the pleasure is so intense it borders on painful, every nerve singing, your whole body trembling as you hurtle toward the edge again.

gojo’s hands grip your hips tight, helping you move, forcing you down harder as he groans and laps and sucks like he’ll never get enough.

and you know—he won’t.

not until you’ve cum all over his face at least two more times… and maybe until that throbbing cock finally gets its turn.

GETO SUGURU

geto’s got you spread out on the bed, knees bent and thighs parted wide, his long black hair tied back messily so nothing gets in the way. he’s been kissing down your stomach, tongue tracing lazy circles around your navel while his fingers tease the soaked seam of your panties. you’re already dripping—embarrassingly wet, the fabric clinging to your puffy folds like a second skin. his dark eyes flick up to yours, that calm, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss right over your clothed clit.

“been thinking about eating this pretty pussy all day,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth like velvet dipped in sin. “let me taste you, princess. spread those legs wider and i’ll make you feel good.”

your cheeks burn hot. you bite your lip, fingers twisting in the sheets as another shy little gush of slick leaks out of you. you’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks—sitting on his face, smothering him with your cunt—but saying it out loud feels filthy. still… the ache between your thighs wins.

“suguru…” you whisper, voice barely above a breath, thighs trembling. “can i… can i sit on your face instead?”

geto’s eyes darken instantly, a hungry glint flashing through them. his smirk widens, slow and dangerous, as he licks his lips like he can already taste you. “fuck yes. c’mere, baby. sit on it. i want you to use my tongue.”

he flips onto his back in one smooth motion, tugging you up his body until your knees are planted on either side of his head. the position makes you feel so exposed—hovering over his handsome face, panties pushed to the side, your glistening pussy right above his mouth. you lower yourself carefully, just enough for his hot breath to fan over your folds, but you’re still holding back, thighs tense, not putting your full weight down.

geto notices immediately.

his big hands slide up the backs of your thighs and grip your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. “what’s wrong, hm? scared to sit properly?” he teases, voice muffled slightly as he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh. “don’t hover, sweetheart. i want this sloppy little cunt smothering me.”

you whimper, embarrassed but so turned on it hurts. you sink a little lower, letting your slick folds brush his lips, but you’re still not fully seated. geto growls softly, the sound vibrating against your pussy and making you jolt.

then he yanks you down.

both hands clamp hard on your hips and pull you flush against his mouth—no mercy, no warning. your soaked cunt presses fully onto his face, clit grinding against his nose, pussy lips spreading obscenely over his mouth and chin. the sudden full contact rips a broken moan from your throat.

“ah—suguru—!”

and then he devours you.

geto’s tongue is relentless—thick, hot, and filthy. he drags it slow and heavy from your leaking hole all the way up to your swollen clit, lapping up every drop of your arousal with loud, greedy slurps. sluuuurp—sluuuurp—sluuuurp. the wet, messy sounds echo obscenely in the room as he eats you like a starving man. his lips seal around your clit and suck hard, tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive nub while his nose grinds perfect circles into your mound.

the pleasure doubles—triples—hits you like a freight train now that you’re fully seated. no more hovering, no holding back. your weight is completely on his face, smothering him in wet heat, and he fucking loves it. his groans vibrate straight through your core, deep and guttural, making your walls flutter wildly.

“f-fuck—suguru—your mouth—oh my god—” you cry out, hands flying to the headboard as your hips twitch involuntarily. the new angle has his tongue spearing deeper, fucking into your tight hole while his upper lip rubs perfectly against your clit. every tiny movement of your hips drags your pussy all over his face—smearing slick across his cheeks, his chin, the bridge of his nose.

geto moans loudly against your cunt, the vibration making your eyes roll back. “that’s it—sit all the way down, baby. good girl. fuck my face like you mean it.” his words are slurred, wet, barely intelligible because his mouth is buried so deep in your pussy, but they make you clench hard around his thrusting tongue.

you start moving—shy little rolls at first, then bolder, grinding your clit against his tongue with more pressure. the pleasure is insane. every drag of your hips sends sparks shooting up your spine. your juices are pouring out of you, coating his entire lower face, dripping down his neck and soaking the sheets under his head. the wet, filthy schlick-schlick-schlick of your pussy riding his tongue fills the room, mixing with your broken moans and his constant, hungry groans.

“suguru—hah—feels so fucking good—!” you sob, thighs trembling violently around his head. you’re riding him properly now, ass bouncing lightly as you grind down harder, chasing that delicious friction. his hands stay glued to your hips, guiding you, forcing you to take every inch of pleasure he’s giving.

he sucks your clit between his lips again, tongue lashing side to side so fast your vision whites out. then he pulls back just enough to spit a thick glob of saliva right onto your pussy before diving back in, making everything even sloppier. strings of your slick and his spit connect his mouth to your cunt every time you lift slightly, only for him to yank you back down and bury his tongue deeper.

“look at you,” he growls between long, obscene licks, voice wrecked and dripping with lust. “riding my face so fucking pretty. your pussy’s so greedy—sucking on my tongue like it wants my cock. you love smothering me with this wet little cunt, don’t you?”

you whimper pathetically, nodding even though he can’t see it, hips moving faster, grinding harder. “yes—yes—love it—love sitting on your face—suguru—!”

the pleasure builds unbearably fast. your pussy is clenching, fluttering, gushing all over his tongue. geto’s cock is rock hard in his pants, straining painfully against the fabric, twitching every time you moan his name and smear more slick across his face. he’s throbbing just from eating you, from the way your thighs squeeze his head, from how completely you’re using him.

you’re losing control—riding his tongue like a desperate slut, ass bouncing, clit dragging relentlessly over that perfect mouth. every downward grind makes his nose bump your clit just right, every thrust of his tongue hits that spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“gonna—gonna cum—suguru—fuck—!” you scream, voice cracking.

geto doesn’t let up. he sucks your clit harder, tongue fucking into you faster, hands forcing your hips down so you’re completely seated as the orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave.

you shatter.

your thighs clamp tight around his head as you cum hard, pussy spasming violently on his tongue. clear slick squirts out of you, flooding his mouth, soaking his face, dripping down his chin in messy rivulets. you keep riding through it—hips jerking wildly, grinding your pulsing cunt all over his tongue while broken sobs and his name pour from your lips.

geto drinks every drop, moaning loudly like your cum is the best thing he’s ever tasted. “mmph—good girl—give it all to me—fuck, you’re soaking me—!”

even after the peak, he doesn’t stop. his tongue keeps licking you through the aftershocks—slow, deep, filthy strokes that prolong the pleasure until you’re shaking and whimpering, oversensitive and desperate. you try to lift off but his hands yank you right back down.

“where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs against your dripping folds, lips brushing your swollen clit with every word. “i’m not done eating. sit back down, baby. ride me again. i want you to cum until you can’t remember your own name.”

you’re panting, thighs quivering uncontrollably, but the heat in your belly is already flaring back up. you look down at him—his face completely wrecked, lips puffy and shiny, chin and cheeks glistening with your cum, dark eyes burning with raw hunger—and something inside you snaps.

you start riding again. harder this time. filthier.

your ass bounces on his face with wet, lewd smacks, pussy grinding desperately against his tongue as you chase another orgasm. geto’s groans grow louder, more feral, his cock leaking steadily in his pants as he devours you like he’ll never get enough.

“that’s my nasty fucking girlfriend,” he growls, voice thick with your juices. “use my face. smother me. make a mess all over me, princess.”

and you do—riding his tongue until you’re sobbing, squirting again, thighs locked around his head while wave after wave of blinding pleasure tears through you. geto keeps you seated the entire time, hands gripping your ass, tongue working you mercilessly, determined to pull every last drop of pleasure from your body.

you’re not getting off his face anytime soon.

and with how good it feels, you never want to.

CHOSO KAMO

choso’s been acting weird all evening—fidgeting, avoiding your eyes, cheeks dusted with that rare pink flush that only appears when he’s overthinking something filthy. you’re both on the bed, you in just an oversized shirt and panties, him shirtless with those dark tattoos stark against his pale skin, hair tied back messily. he’s been kissing you slow and deep for the last twenty minutes, hands roaming your thighs but never quite going where you want them. you can feel how hard he is, thick cock straining against his sweats, but he’s holding back.

“choso… baby, what’s wrong?” you murmur against his lips, cupping his flushed face. “you’ve been acting shy. talk to me.”

he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing, eyes darting away. his voice comes out low, almost mumbled. “i… i want to taste you. really bad. been thinking about it all day but…” he trails off, ears burning red. asking to eat you out already embarrasses him half to death—asking you to sit on his face? that feels impossible for him right now.

you tilt your head, heart softening even as your pussy throbs at his words. you can read him so easily. the way his hands keep gripping your hips, pulling you closer but then hesitating, the way his gaze keeps dropping to your thighs like he’s imagining them wrapped around his head.

you smirk softly, deciding to help your sweet, embarrassed boyfriend. “you want me to sit on your face, choso?”

his eyes snap to yours, wide and shocked, cheeks flaring darker. he nods once, jerky and shy, barely able to speak. “y-yeah… if you want to. please.”

fuck, he’s adorable when he’s like this. you kiss him deep, then climb up his body, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his head. you hover at first, panties already soaked through, the scent of your arousal making his nostrils flare. choso’s hands tremble as they rest on your thighs, thumbs stroking the soft skin like he’s scared to pull you down.

“you sure?” you whisper, still a little shy yourself but dripping at the thought.

“please,” he breathes, voice hoarse. “i need it. need to feel you on me.”

you hook your fingers in your panties and slide them to the side, exposing your glistening, puffy cunt. slowly, you lower yourself.

the moment your wet folds meet his mouth, choso lets out a broken, muffled groan that vibrates straight through your core. his tongue comes out hesitant at first—soft, exploratory licks along your slit, tasting your slick like it’s something sacred. but the second he gets a proper taste, something in him snaps.

his hands clamp down hard on your hips and yank you fully onto his face.

“mmph—!” you gasp sharply as your entire weight settles on him, your soaked pussy smothering his mouth and nose completely. no more hovering. you’re sitting. fully. his tongue immediately drags thick and heavy through your folds, lapping up every drop with sudden, starving intensity.

and holy fuck—it’s good.

insanely good.

choso eats you like a man who’s been dying of thirst. his tongue is long, hot, and surprisingly skilled for how shy he usually is. he licks broad, messy stripes from your leaking hole up to your swollen clit, then circles the sensitive nub with tight, precise flicks that make your thighs quake instantly. loud, wet slurping sounds fill the room—obscene, filthy sluuuurp-sluuurp-sluuuurp as he devours you without shame now that he’s finally got you where he wants.

“choso—oh my god—!” your voice cracks, hands flailing because you don’t know what the fuck to do with them. they land on the headboard, then fist in his hair, then scramble at your own thighs, trembling violently. your whole body is shaking from the overwhelming pleasure, hips twitching uncontrollably as you grind down on his face.

he moans loudly against your cunt, the deep vibration making your eyes roll back. “mmph—taste so good—fuck, baby—” his words are slurred, barely coherent because his mouth is buried so deep in your pussy, but the raw need in his voice makes you gush fresh slick all over his tongue.

you’re losing it. your arms don’t know where to go—one hand ends up gripping his hair tight, the other slapping against the wall for balance as your hips start rolling on their own. you’re riding his face now, grinding your dripping cunt against his tongue in desperate circles, ass bouncing lightly with every movement. choso’s groans grow louder, more desperate, his cock twitching wildly in his sweats, leaking pre-cum in a steady stream.

the pleasure is blinding. every drag of your clit over his tongue sends electricity shooting up your spine. his nose grinds perfectly against your mound while his tongue spears deep into your hole, fucking in and out with wet, squelching thrusts. your juices are everywhere—coating his chin, his cheeks, dripping down his neck and soaking the pillow beneath his head. the mess is filthy, and choso only pulls you down harder, like he wants to drown in it.

“hah—choso—your tongue—fuck, it’s so deep—!” you sob, thighs clamping around his head as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. you’re trembling so hard you can barely stay upright, arms shaking, legs quivering uncontrollably. you don’t know what to do with yourself—every nerve is on fire, pleasure so intense it almost hurts.

choso’s hands knead your ass roughly, spreading your cheeks wider so he can bury his face even deeper. he sucks your clit between his lips with a wet pop, tongue lashing rapidly against it while he moans like he’s the one getting fucked. the vibrations, the suction, the way his scar-laced lips rub against your folds—it’s too much. your pussy clenches hard, gushing all over his mouth.

“gonna—gonna cum—choso—!” you cry out, voice breaking into a high-pitched whine.

he doesn’t stop. if anything, he gets more intense—sucking harder, tongue moving faster, hands forcing your hips to grind down on him exactly how he wants. you shatter with a scream, thighs locking around his head as your orgasm rips through you like lightning. clear slick squirts onto his tongue, flooding his mouth, dripping messily down his chin while you ride his face through every pulse and spasm.

choso drinks it all greedily, groaning deep and satisfied, tongue still working you through the aftershocks. but he doesn’t let you recover. his grip stays iron-tight, keeping you seated firmly on his face as he continues licking—slow, filthy strokes through your fluttering folds, then back to devouring your oversensitive clit.

you’re a trembling, whimpering mess above him. your arms give out and you have to lean forward, forearms braced on the headboard, forehead pressed against it as your hips keep moving on their own. “too much—choso—fuck—i can’t—ahh—!” but even as you say it, you’re grinding harder, chasing more of that devastating pleasure.

he pulls back just enough to gasp, lips shiny and swollen, face completely wrecked with your cum. his voice is hoarse, wrecked, but full of pure adoration. “don’t stop… please. sit harder. use me. i want more—need to feel you cum again.”

then he yanks you back down and dives in even hungrier.

the second round is brutal. choso’s tongue fucks into you relentlessly, curling against that perfect spongy spot while his upper lip grinds against your clit. you’re riding him like you’ve lost your mind—hips snapping, ass bouncing with wet, lewd smacks against his face, pussy smearing slick everywhere. your arms flail again, one hand tangling painfully in his hair, the other reaching back to grip his wrist for some kind of anchor while your whole body trembles violently.

pleasure stacks on pleasure until you’re sobbing, tears pricking your eyes from how good it feels. another orgasm crashes into you without warning, even stronger than the first. you gush all over his face again, thighs shaking so hard they feel like they might give out, broken cries of his name spilling from your lips as you grind through the high.

choso moans like he’s in heaven, cock throbbing untouched and leaking steadily, completely lost in the taste and feel of you. he keeps you seated the entire time, refusing to let you up even as you whimper from overstimulation.

“one more,” he mumbles against your dripping cunt, voice thick with your juices. “please, baby… sit on it. let me make you feel even better.”

you’re a trembling wreck—arms useless, body shaking, mind blank from pleasure—but you keep riding. grinding. smothering your sweet, embarrassed boyfriend with your soaked pussy while he devours you like he’ll never get enough.

choso stays buried between your thighs for what feels like hours, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re completely spent, slumped forward and twitching, unable to do anything but moan and tremble on his face.

and even then, he keeps licking softly, gently cleaning you up with long, loving strokes of his tongue, like he could stay there forever.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

you’re straddling sukuna’s broad chest in the middle of his massive bed, the silk sheets already twisted beneath you both. he’s lounging back against the pillows like a king on his throne—four arms lazily draped around your waist and thighs, crimson eyes half-lidded with bored amusement as he watches you squirm. you’ve been dripping down your thighs for the last ten minutes just from his low, mocking teasing, but you finally gather the courage to ask.

“sukuna… baby,” you whisper sweetly, cheeks burning as you trace one finger over the black tattoos on his chest. “can i sit on your face? please?”

a low, dangerous chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest. one of his large hands squeezes your ass possessively. “oh? the little wife wants to smother her husband with that greedy cunt?” his smirk is sharp, fangs glinting. “how bold. go on then. sit. i’m curious how long you’ll last before you’re crying and begging.”

he doesn’t wait for you to overthink it. two of his hands grip your hips and yank you forward, the other two spreading your thighs wider as he pulls you right over his face. you barely have time to hook your soaked panties to the side before your dripping pussy is hovering above his mouth.

sukuna’s tongue—long, thick, and inhumanly skilled—slides out first. he drags the flat of it slowly up your slit, tasting you with a deep, satisfied groan. “mmh… already this fucking wet for me? pathetic.”

then he yanks you down.

your full weight settles onto his face in one rough pull, your soaked folds spreading obscenely over his mouth and nose. the sudden, complete contact rips a loud moan from your throat.

“ah—sukuna—!”

his tongue is everywhere at once.

long and flexible, it spears deep into your leaking hole, fucking in and out with wet, filthy thrusts while the tip curls perfectly against that spongy spot inside you. at the same time, the upper part of his tongue flicks and swirls around your swollen clit like he’s french kissing it—slow, sloppy, open-mouthed sucks followed by rapid, sinful strokes that make your eyes roll back instantly.

“f-fuuuck—!” your hands slap against the headboard, thighs already trembling violently around his head.

sukuna growls against your cunt, the deep vibration shooting straight to your core. he eats you like he owns you—because he does. loud, messy, obscene sounds fill the room: wet slurping, filthy schlick-schlurp-sluuuuurp as he devours every drop of your slick. his lips seal around your clit and suck hard, tongue lashing against it in ways that make your toes curl and your back arch.

you try to hover just a little, overwhelmed by how intense it feels, but sukuna snarls in disapproval.

two massive hands clamp down on your hips like iron and force you down harder—smothering him completely with your dripping pussy. your clit grinds right against his tongue as he practically makes out with it, sucking and licking and flicking in perfect, devastating rhythm.

“don’t you dare hover, brat,” he growls right into your cunt, the words muffled and wet. “sit. all the way. i want to feel this sloppy little pussy drowning me.”

you sob, pleasure crashing over you in heavy waves. your hips start moving on their own—small, shy rolls at first—until sukuna’s hands take full control. he forces your hips to grind faster, harder, guiding you in quick, filthy circles that drag your clit relentlessly over his tongue.

“that’s it—fuck my face properly, wife. use that greedy cunt on your king’s tongue.”

the pleasure doubles—triples. his long tongue thrusts deep inside you while his lips suck viciously on your clit, the dual sensation making your vision blur. you’re riding his face now, ass bouncing, thighs shaking uncontrollably as slick pours out of you in messy rivulets. it coats his chin, his cheeks, drips down his neck and onto the sheets. the wet sounds are pornographic—your pussy squelching loudly against his mouth with every forced grind.

“sukuna—oh my god—your tongue— it’s so deep—hah—!” you cry out, voice cracking into a broken whine.

he laughs darkly against your folds, the sound sending fresh vibrations through your core. one of his hands leaves your hip just long enough to slap your ass hard—once, twice—before forcing you down even harder. his tongue curls inside you, stroking that perfect spot over and over while he french kisses your clit like it’s his favorite meal. sucking, licking, swirling, flicking—overwhelming you completely.

your arms flail. you don’t know where to put them—one fists in his pink hair, the other braces against the headboard as your whole body trembles violently. the pleasure is too much, too intense, building frighteningly fast.

“gonna—gonna cum—sukuna—please—!”

he doesn’t slow down. if anything, he forces your hips to move faster, slamming you down onto his tongue with brutal strength. his mouth suctions hard around your clit, tongue lashing wildly, and you shatter with a scream.

your orgasm crashes through you like lightning. your thighs lock around his head as your pussy spasms violently, gushing clear slick all over his tongue and face. you keep grinding through it—forced by his strong hands—riding out every pulse while sobbing his name. sukuna drinks it all greedily, moaning loud and deep like your cum is ambrosia, never once stopping his assault.

but he’s not satisfied.

even as you’re twitching and whimpering from oversensitivity, he yanks you back down and keeps going. his tongue fucks into your fluttering hole mercilessly, sucking on your swollen clit until fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

“again,” he demands, voice thick with your juices. “cum again, brat. i want to feel you break on my tongue.”

his hands force your hips into a brutal rhythm—fast, deep grinds that make your ass bounce lewdly against his face. the wet slapping sounds mix with your desperate cries and his constant, hungry groans. your clit is throbbing, overstimulated and hypersensitive, but the pleasure keeps building anyway, sharper and hotter than before.

you’re a trembling, sobbing mess above him—arms shaking, legs quivering uncontrollably, body completely overwhelmed by the relentless assault of his long, skilled tongue. he’s practically making love to your pussy with his mouth, french kissing your clit like he’s trying to ruin you for anything else.

“sukuna—too much—i can’t—ahhh—!”

“you can,” he snarls, slapping your ass again before forcing you down harder. “and you will. ride my fucking face until you squirt all over your king like the desperate little wife you are.”

another orgasm rips through you without mercy. you scream, body convulsing as you gush hard onto his tongue, soaking his face completely. your hips jerk wildly in his iron grip, grinding and twitching as wave after wave crashes over you.

sukuna keeps you pinned, tongue still working you through it—slow, filthy licks mixed with hard sucks—until you’re almost limp. then he starts again. faster. rougher.

he forces your hips into short, rapid bounces, making your soaked pussy slap wetly against his mouth while his tongue spears deep with every downward thrust. the overstimulation has you seeing stars, babbling incoherently, tears streaming down your face as pleasure borders on pain.

“look at you,” he mocks between long, sloppy licks, voice dripping with arrogance and lust. “crying and shaking just from sitting on my face. pathetic. but you love it, don’t you? love drowning your husband in this messy cunt.”

you can only whimper and nod, too overwhelmed to speak properly. your third orgasm hits even harder, ripping another broken scream from your throat as you squirt all over his tongue again, body trembling violently in his grasp.

sukuna finally slows just enough to let you breathe, but his tongue still lazily laps at your dripping folds, cleaning up every drop while you slump forward, forearms braced on the headboard, panting and twitching.

his crimson eyes gleam up at you from between your thighs, face completely wrecked—lips swollen, chin and cheeks shiny with your cum, hair messy from your desperate tugging.

“cute,” he purrs, voice low and dangerous. “but i’m nowhere near done with you, wife.”

two hands pull you back down firmly as his long tongue slides back inside you, already curling for more.

“keep sitting. we’re going to see just how many times i can make you break tonight.”

and with that, he forces your hips to start moving again—fast, relentless, overwhelming—until the only thing left in your mind is his name and the devastating pleasure of his tongue.

HIROMI HIGURUMA

hiromi’s been between your thighs for the better part of an hour already—kissing, licking, sucking marks into the soft skin—but tonight he’s different. slower. more deliberate. his dark hair is tousled, tie long discarded, shirt unbuttoned and hanging open over that lean, toned chest. those sharp, tired eyes are fixed on your soaked pussy like it’s the most fascinating case he’s ever studied.

you’re straddling his chest, heart hammering, when he finally speaks.

“i want you to sit on my face.”

his voice is low, a little rough, that usual calm courtroom tone now thick with hunger. your breath catches. you’ve always loved his nose—big, prominent, perfectly shaped—and the filthy little daydreams you’ve had about it… but hearing him actually ask makes your cunt clench hard.

“h-hiromi… are you sure?” you whisper, cheeks burning even as fresh slick drips down your folds.

he wets his lips slowly, eyes never leaving your glistening pussy. “very sure. come here. all the way.”

you crawl up his body on shaky knees, hovering over his face. he stares. long. shamelessly. his hands slide up your thighs and grip the backs of them, thumbs pressing into the crease where your legs meet your ass. then he uses two fingers to spread your puffy cunt lips wide open, exposing every pink, dripping inch of you.

you think for a second he’s just inspecting you—those intense lawyer eyes studying your most intimate place like he’s memorizing evidence—until he leans in and drags his tongue in one long, obscene stripe from your leaking hole all the way up to your clit.

“oh—fuck—!” you gasp, hands flying to the headboard.

hiromi groans deeply, the sound vibrating straight through your core. “so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “look at how wet you are… dripping all over my face already.”

then he truly begins.

his long tongue spears deep into your entrance, fucking in and out with slow, deliberate strokes while his stretched fingers keep your lips spread obscenely wide. the wet, filthy sounds are instant—loud, sloppy schlick-schlurp-sluuuuurp as he eats you from below like a man savoring a fine meal. every thrust of his tongue reaches deeper than you thought possible, curling and stroking along your walls, coaxing more slick to gush onto his chin.

you swear you see heaven.

your thighs start trembling violently. the stretch of his fingers holding you open, the way his tongue fucks into you so thoroughly, the heat of his breath—it’s overwhelming in the best way. “hiromi—oh my god—your tongue—hah—!”

he hums in response, the vibration making your eyes roll back. then he pulls his tongue out and licks a slow, filthy stripe all the way up your slit again—obscenely slow, dragging every drop of your arousal back into his mouth. and that’s when it happens.

his big, perfect nose accidentally brushes right against your swollen clit.

electricity shoots up your spine. your hips jerk hard.

“ah—!” the sound that rips out of you is broken and needy. you can’t help it—you grind down instinctively, chasing that perfect pressure.

hiromi’s eyes flick up to yours, dark and burning. a low, satisfied chuckle vibrates against your cunt. “there it is,” he murmurs, voice muffled. “use it, baby. ride my face.”

he doesn’t give you time to hesitate.

his hands grip your hips firmly and pull you down harder, forcing your full weight onto his face. your soaked pussy smothers him completely—clit grinding directly against the bridge of that big nose while his tongue continues its relentless assault on your entrance. he licks you like he’s trying to map every inch, long strokes mixed with quick flicks, sucking noisily on your folds before diving back inside.

you lose control instantly.

your hips start rolling—slow and experimental at first, then faster, needier. every grind drags your throbbing clit over his nose while his tongue fucks deep into your cunt. the sensation is devastating. the firm cartilage of his nose provides the perfect, unrelenting pressure against your clit while his hot, wet tongue spears and curls inside you.

“hiromi—fuck—your nose—oh my fucking god—!” you sob, voice cracking as pleasure crashes over you in heavy waves.

the sounds are filthy. wet. obscene. your slick coats his entire face—shiny on his cheeks, dripping down the sides of his nose, soaking his chin and the sheets beneath his head. every roll of your hips makes a lewd schlick-schlick-schlick against his mouth and nose. hiromi is groaning constantly now, deep, hungry sounds that vibrate through your pussy and push you closer to the edge.

he keeps your lips spread with his fingers, tongue thrusting faster, nose grinding perfectly against your clit with every desperate circle of your hips. you’re riding his face like you were made for it—ass bouncing lightly, thighs flexing, hands gripping the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he growls into your cunt, the words slurred and wet. “ride my nose. fuck my tongue. make a mess all over me.”

you do. shamelessly.

your hips snap faster, grinding harder, using every inch of his face. the pressure on your clit is constant, perfect, driving you insane. his tongue curls against that spongy spot inside you over and over while his nose rubs tight little circles on your swollen nub. pleasure stacks brutally fast—hot, intense, blinding.

your whole body starts shaking. legs trembling uncontrollably around his head, arms quivering, moans turning into broken sobs.

“hiromi—i’m—i’m gonna—fuck—!”

he doesn’t slow down. if anything, he pulls you down even harder, burying his face completely in your pussy. his tongue fucks you faster, nose grinding relentlessly against your clit until you shatter with a scream.

your orgasm hits like a freight train.

thighs clamping around his head, hips jerking wildly as your cunt spasms hard on his tongue. clear slick squirts out of you, flooding his mouth, soaking his nose and chin in messy rivulets. you keep riding through it—grinding, twitching, sobbing his name while wave after wave of blinding pleasure tears through your body.

hiromi moans loudly, drinking every drop like he’s dying for it. “good girl—give it all to me—fuck, you’re soaking me—!”

even after the peak, he doesn’t stop.

his tongue keeps licking through your fluttering walls, long, slow, obscene strokes while his nose continues brushing and nudging your oversensitive clit. you’re a trembling, whimpering wreck above him, but he keeps you seated firmly, forcing you to take every last bit of pleasure.

“again,” he murmurs against your dripping folds, voice thick with your cum. “ride me again, baby. i want to feel you cum on my nose until you can’t think straight.”

you’re still shaking, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking your eyes, but you obey. your hips start moving once more—slower at first, then building back up to those desperate, filthy grinds. the overstimulation makes everything sharper, hotter. every drag of your clit over his big nose sends sparks exploding behind your eyelids.

hiromi’s hands stay locked on your hips, guiding you, encouraging you to use him completely. his groans grow louder, more desperate, his cock straining painfully hard in his slacks, twitching every time you moan and gush on his face.

you ride him through another orgasm—then another—each one more intense than the last. your pussy is a sloppy, twitching mess, juices coating his entire face, dripping down his neck. you’re babbling, crying, thighs locked around his head as you grind your clit desperately against that perfect nose while his tongue fucks you senseless.

“hiromi—too much—fuck—your nose feels so good—i can’t—ahhh—!”

he answers by sucking your clit between his lips, nose pressing harder, tongue curling deep inside you until you squirt again—harder this time—shaking and sobbing above him like you’ve truly seen heaven.

only when you’re slumped forward, forehead pressed to the headboard, body twitching uncontrollably, does he finally ease up. his tongue gives you one last long, slow, loving lick from entrance to clit, collecting every drop, before he gently kisses your swollen folds.

his voice is hoarse, wrecked, but full of dark satisfaction when he speaks.

“my perfect girl… look at the mess you made on my face.”

you glance down through blurry eyes—his handsome face is absolutely drenched, lips swollen, that big nose shiny with your cum, hair messy from your desperate grinding.

he smirks, eyes gleaming with hunger that says he’s nowhere near done.

“now… sit back down. i’m still thirsty.”

and he pulls you right back onto his face, ready to ruin you all over again.