Content warnings: 18+ porn with plot, sex pollen/drugged lust/ consent under duress, P in V penetration, spitting, rough sex-ish, possessive language, praise kink, creampie, overheard setting, kind of angsty at the end.. I guess?
Summary: You, Steve, Tony, Thor and Bruce are sent to investigate a long derelict Hydra space station orbiting above the Atlantic. The mission goes wrong when you are exposed to an experimental chemical- one that turns your body against you, burning you out from the inside. Desire and danger crescendo as every second brings you closer to disaster.
With two long hours left until landing, Steve Rogers faces a decision that could change everything.
★Steve’s hardest mission yet…★
❀ an: First post on tumblr YAY. This fic has kind of tame sex pollen effects, (as in, reader is not completely sex crazed, just extremely aroused and physically affected) And similarly I tried to stay true to the professional and moral Steve- in certain scenes hehe. Lots of build-up in this one! Enjoy ♡︎
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“Med bay, this is Rogers- we need a team ready. Possible chemical exposure, unknown origin.”
“Understood. Who has been affected?”
Helen Cho’s voice crackled back through the comms, steady in its urgency.
Steve, Tony, Bruce and Thor all turned toward you in unison. You were slumped in a harsh metal chair to the left of them, every muscle in your body screaming in protest.
Steve turned to speak again, but you barely caught the words as they swam in and out, dissolving under the shrill ringing in your ears. The ship hummed beneath your boots, each vibration from the strained engine rolling through your spine.
Nausea began to creep up your chest as you pulled your legs together, trying to stay grounded. You were still in the aftershock, clinging to any semblance of understanding as your body tensed and shuddered.
The last thing you remembered from the mission was the room exploding in a flash of gold, and Thor’s cloak catching the light as he found you lying in the Hydra space station hallway, orbiting over the Arctic Ocean.
Every breath dragged heavier than the last, and a metallic tang clung stubbornly to the back of your throat. You pressed a hand to your temple, attempting to will away the effects of whatever this was, but the spinning only deepened.
Steve’s hand clamped firmly around your arm, pulling you out of the fog suddenly.
“Y/N, can you tell me what you’re feeling?” His voice was calm, comforting. And suddenly, your whole body felt aflame with signals, too many to focus on, too sharp to put a name to. You blinked against the lights smearing into watercolour streaks above you.
“My skin’s on fire” you managed to huff out.
Steve crouched down to your eye level, taking in your blistered appearance.
“I’m hot.. and dizzy and my clothes feel-” your breath splintered as your words failed you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the sight of Steve’s deep azure eyes in front of you had just knocked the voice from your throat.
Tony cut in, pacing across the cabin, scanner in hand. “Temp’s climbing fast, oxygen saturation’s tanking. We’re dealing with a classic mystery toxin- Banner, tell me you got eyes on this feed? Don’t make me play doctor here, I look terrible in white.”
“I’ve got it” Bruce answered, voice taut.
“Cap, keep her talking. Thor, don’t let her slump forward- airway needs to stay open.”
Thor bristled at the command, already at your other side. He pressed a steadying hand between your shoulder blades, thumb hooked around your neck, and the skin beneath exploded into chills.
“Fear not, comrade. I will bear your weight. No poison born of cowards shall claim you while I yet draw breath.”
“Fantastic” Tony muttered, his tone sharper than playful.
Typically you would have laughed at Thor’s grandiose bravado, or maybe even appreciated the sentiment considering the current state of affairs- instead, something deep within your stomach lurched at the feeling of his large, strong hand pressing into you. The effects of the mystery toxin had become suddenly clearer to you, as a familiar throbbing began in your cunt. You bit your lip, hard.
“Med bay, her heart rate is ramping up over here, Banner says we’re running a two-hour clock ‘til touch down. You might want to clear the crash carts and prep for something ugly.”
“Two hours..” Helen’s voice hardened. “Keep her conscious, that’s priority one. Banner you’ll have full lab access when she’s ground-side.”
“Copy that,” Bruce replied, his voice steady, but you could hear the whir of calculation underneath.
“Is this chemical makeup becoming any clearer to you? From what I’m seeing, this compound is based on Bremelanotide, some kind of Terpenoid and… Meth? It’s reminiscent of a back-alley viagra.”
“Give me a minute” Helen’s voice rang out after a short pause.
“Y/N” Tony snapped, eyeing Bruce.
“I need you to slow your breathing- Inhale for four counts.. yeah that’s it..
Hold..
Exhale.
Good, just like that. Again.”
The ship tilted around you as your mind raced, attempting to follow Tony’s commands. You were unable to focus on your breath with the feeling of your suit clinging to your hot skin, it was suffocating.
“I need this off” you spluttered out, finding Tony’s face above you.
“You need… what off?” He questioned, shoulders tensing into stone as he looked into your tearful eyes.
Your head tilted to the side as a ragged breath escaped you, chest rising unevenly. Your fingers circled into fists, nails biting into your palms as your eyes squeezed shut. Slowly, your back arched off the seat, hips tilting forward, chasing a relief you couldn’t quite grasp. The nausea that had churned your stomach earlier had shifted, twisting into something heavier. Heat bloomed beneath your skin, prickling like a relentless fever. It rolled lower, coiling tight in your belly, spreading out in sharp pulses impossible to ignore. The primal, unshakeable urge to be filled, stretched open, left you dizzied and undone beneath its grip.
Focus had always been your greatest strength. On missions, you were always the quiet one- sharp, trained to hold fast to discipline and drown out distractions. But all those lessons in detachment and control offered no help here, not when you were confined to the steel belly of the Quinjet, hours away from reprieve, with four men as your only companions. Four men whose presence pressed in on your every thought. Each formidable. Each admirable. Each unbearably handsome in their own right. It was pure torment.
With your body becoming harder and harder to control, all you wanted to do was get up and run.
“Fuck-“ you gasped, “my suit.”
Tony and Steve glanced at each other, the thick tension between them shifting from concern to urgent realisation. Tony cleared his throat, turning to Bruce who had been having a quiet and brisk conversation with Helen.
“What was that you were saying about back-alley viagra, Banner? ‘Cause I, uh, I think we have a situation over here.”
Bruce looked back at Tony for a beat, sighing as he chose his next words.
“Well it’s confirmed, this isn’t just an irritant. We’re looking at systematic damage if this isn’t neutralised fast… but it’s manageable.”
The words punched harder than the drilling in your ears- and the pulsing in your cunt.
Life-threatening. The phrase hung heavy and unspoken, but you read it in the lines deepening across Steve’s brow. He was upright now, broad marble shoulders flexing under his suit. You brought in a ragged breath.
“Understood” he answered firmly.
Tony exhaled sharply, pushing both hands through his hair before stabbing at the scanner again. It clicked back to life with a sharp zip.
“Manageable, huh? Manageable by who, exactly?” He questioned, words clattering over a tension he couldn’t quite disguise. Still, his eyes kept darting to you, sharp and calculating, like he was measuring every flutter of your chest.
It was apparent he knew exactly what was unfolding inside of you, and panic slingshotted through the back of your neck like a whip. You wanted the floor to swallow you up.
Thor shifted beside you, restless as a caged storm. His jaw clenched, knuckles whitening around Mjolnir.
“I shall manage it! If it’s poison, then give me its name and origin right now, and I will strike it from the nine realms!”
Tony sighed, shaking his head. “Banner, can you let the rest of the team in on what’s going on, like, now?”
“Yeah.. yeah uhm- I’ve run a partial analysis. It’s not a natural compound, it’s engineered. Hydra designed it to destabilise the body at a cellular level. Essentially to preoccupy the contaminants, make them vulnerable and unable to defend themselves.”
Steve’s jaw tightened. “Can you get to the point, Banner?”
Bruce exhaled. “It’s a hybrid neurotoxin. It piggybacks into the bloodstream through the lungs, not designed to kill outright, but to hijack the nervous system.”
“Hijack? Meaning what?” Steve frowned, he crossed his arms over his broad chest, beneath them you could see his hands clenching into fists.
“Meaning I’ve been watching her dopamine levels go through the roof since we strapped in. Banner, tell me I’m wrong” Tony answered.
“You’re not,” Bruce admitted, voice taut. “The compound -hypothetically- targets neurotransmitters, specifically those linked to arousal. It pushes the body into a hyper-stimulated state, essentially it’s an aphrodisiac- times one hundred.”
Tony let out a low whistle, eyes narrowing onto his scanner. “Called it. Spiked heart rate, blood pressure increase, system going into overdrive. Reads like a businessman at a strip Club.”
Thor straightened, finally catching onto the situation. His confused expression darkened into disgust, but not with you.
“They would force such.. urges? Drive a warrior into madness with lust?” His tone rumbled, indignant. “Vile sorcery.”
Steve’s jaw clenched, his gaze flicking to you, then away just as quickly, visibly unsettled.
“So, is this thing lethal or not?”
“Not immediately,” Bruce said. “But the strain on her cardiovascular system alone could be fatal if it continues to run unchecked. And psychologically…”
“Hydra always did love their party tricks,” Tony muttered, though his voice was tight. He adjusted the scanner again restlessly.
“Guys, this is serious. At this rate, she isn’t going to make it back here without intervention. She needs stimulation” Helen said, her words sharp.
The feeling had swallowed you now, you were unable to contain it any longer. Your breathing was coming out in short sobs as you twisted within the chair.
“Well, I can probably whip up a better-than-average vibrator, just need a decent motor and some batteries” Tony mumbled.
“No. That’s not gonna cut it.” Helen sighed. “She needs male DNA, which is available through saliva or.. ejaculate.”
The tension had reached its crescendo now, all parties aware of what that meant.
You shifted in the chair, trying to press your knees together, but the movement only stoked the fire. A gasp slipped out before you could stop it.
Steve noticed instantly, his hand pressed onto the armrest next to you.
“Easy” he murmured.
Tony’s eyes flicked from his scanner to your flushed face, his usual smirk didn’t come, instead his jaw ticked.
“Well, banner, your neurotransmitter theory has already left the hypothetical stage.”
“That’s the compound, it’s overstimulating her system. Her heart rate is elevated way past safe levels. If she keeps reacting it could tip into arrhythmia.”
Thor growled, the sound thunder deep. His hand hovered near your shoulder, but he hesitated, unsure if his touch would soothe or worsen.
You squeezed your eyes shut again, breathing in uneven gasps. Every inhale felt too shallow, every exhale a struggle against the pulse roaring through your blood.
“Y/N, you’re going to be okay, just hang in there” Steve said.
At the sound of his gravely voice, your mind betrayed you, spinning out pyretic visions you couldn’t hold back. You could almost feel the weight of his hot mouth pressing to your throat, his tongue dragging slow, wet lines down the delicate curve of your neck. Licking stripes lower and lower until his warmth ghosted over your peaked nipple. Closing his lips around it, sucking hard enough to make your back bow and strain, tongue flicking until you whimpered. You imagined him flicking against your swollen, aching clit instead. Sucking, licking gently until you could feel it bone deep and dragging languidly through your every nerve. The phantom pleasure was so vivid it hollowed you out, left you fluttering around nothing.
“Do we have any kind of protocol to run off here? I mean, this can’t be ethical. How would we even..” Tony trailed off quietly.
Your body jolted like it had been shocked. Heat flared then drained so fast it left your teeth chattering. The whiplash left you gasping, you clutched Steve’s sleeve like it was the only thing tethering you down.
Desire licked through your veins, prickling your skin like fire ants. You yanked at your suit, desperate for air, the feel of it clinging to your skin becoming unbearable in the isolated cabin. You ripped the zipper down, fabric popping open to reveal your bra.
“Okay, guys, we really need a plan here” Tony said quickly, swivelling around so his back was to you. Thor’s eyes widened, and he began to spin around as he followed Tony’s movements.
Steve shifted then, sliding one arm beneath you and the other behind your shoulders. You sucked in a gasp, chewing on your bottom lip.
“Steve-“ you began to protest, but he shushed you, lifting as though you weighed nothing. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed ahead, remaining far more composed than could be said for the rest of them.
Tony twisted half around, eyebrows raised.
“Well isn’t that a wholesome picture, Rodgers. Doing the full bridal carry. And, although I know you’re big on procedures, I sure hope you’re not planning on consummating this marriage so soon. We haven’t signed off on anything yet.”
Steve didn’t even glance his way.
“She needs privacy right now, that’s all.”
“Sure, sure, just saying. You’ve set the bar real high for bedside manner.”
Before Steve could answer, Thor stepped forward, solemn and classically dramatic. His gaze rested on you, then on Steve, as he pressed a broad hand to his chest.
“Captain Rodger’s bears you with honour. Fear not, Y/N. No harm, nor shame, shall touch you today. By my oath, you are protected.”
Steve adjusted his grip, bringing his hand further down towards your knees as he felt the wetness that seeped down your thighs.
“Let’s just keep the focus on getting her stable.” He said firmly.
“Aye-” Thor said, smiling humbly as he bowed his head in assent, “-yet the vow still stands.” His voice rumbled through your pussy like a distant storm.
Steve walked steadily toward the Quinjet cabin quarters, shoulder sliding open the door slowly. He placed you down on the bed, his hand lingering just a second too long on your shoulder- meaning to steady you.
“Breathe with me, gonna be just you and me for now.” He straightened up, eyeing you intently.
You tried, the air clawed at your throat with every inhale, your body felt like it wasn’t yours anymore. Like an enemy- it spun, it ached, it begged, every urge fighting against your own mind.
“I’m burning” you sobbed, fingers curling into the soft sheets below you.
Steve hated the way you trembled below him, every sense coming undone. His usually composed demeanour strained within him. You had always been quiet, a steady pair of eyes. He always trusted you to keep your attention on the job, in a way, you were the one he had come to rely on the most.
“I know” he answered simply before lifting his hand, palm falling flat against your arm.
He shifted around from beside you, blue shadows bled across the cabin walls as he moved, flicking on a lamp with a muted click. The light framed him in a gentle glow as you drifted in the electric hum rattling your bones, preventing you from finding your words. You squeezed your eyes shut as your fingers found the edges of your suit instead, tugging weakly.
Steve was back beside you then, crouching down steady and capable as you writhed. His fingers found yours, coaxing your trembling grip down to your side.
“Let me help” he murmured, catching your eyes as they fluttered open. You wanted to relent, insist you were trained for this- but the words dissolved somewhere, and all that remained of your argument ceased as you gave a fragile nod.
He exhaled slow, shoulders loosening as he shifted forward. His presence folded over you, seeming to hit you like gravity. A forceful pull ricocheted through every limb. You shivered under the pressure building within you, your efforts to force the toxin to yield.
He peeled back your suit slowly, each touch precise, almost reverent. Cold, large hands traced down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake, sending sparks scattering through your veins. The sensation swelled, crashing over you, ebbing and flowing through every inch of your body until you were just a floating thing lost somewhere deep in the flame.
“Better?” He asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, letting his hand fall to the back of your neck.
A shaky breath escaped you, more whimper than anything. The knowledge of what loomed between you both pressed in heavy, too much to comprehend. Steve Rogers, the most honourable man for the job, would be the one to see you through this- it couldn’t be anyone else. And after, somehow, you’d have to stand at his side on missions like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t watched you lose yourself on his cock, gasping and writhing, breaking apart in helpless waves. Like he hadn’t steadied you through it all, while you sobbed and clawed at his shoulders.
He was going to see every crack in you, hear every desperate sound his cock pulled from you, every shiver that tore through your body as it shattered around him. He’d carry those memories in his hands, his mouth, they’d be behind his eyes every time they found yours from across the room. That invisible, dangerous pull of tension would follow you everywhere he was.
You were too far gone for embarrassment to reach you yet, but you knew it was coming. The emotions within you buckled around each other, bitterness lingering somewhere under the toxin. You silently cursed the universe for subjecting you to this. But yet, maybe it was for the best, maybe it had to be you. You couldn’t imagine the chaos if it had been Thor, or worse, Bruce.
Steve adjusted the air system overhead, his chiselled arm stretching out long above you, muscles taut beneath his suit. Cool air began to float over you, peppering onto your fevered skin. His other hand was still at your neck, thumb circling against the tense muscle there. The motion was slight, soothing. You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how it burned, how every graze of his skin against yours ignited the well in your stomach. If he was subtly accustoming you, weaning you onto it for what was to come.
“Focus on me” he ordered softly, voice low and commanding. You tried, eyes locked onto his, breathing with him.
The cool air should’ve soothed you more than it did. Instead, it ghosted over you in the most unbearable way, every waft over your overheated skin felt like electric to your nerves, feeding the fire.
His hand steadying the back of your neck should’ve felt clinical, like a soldier caring for an injured comrade, but each time his thumb grazed against your skin a shiver bolted through you. Heat pooled lower and lower in your stomach, spilling out in heavy waves.
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to focus on the sting, willing the sharp edges of your teeth to drown it all out. But the sound that broke from you was no sob from pain, it was a breathy moan, erotic and needy.
Steve didn’t falter, his grip became firmer, holding you grounded to him as your vision fizzled again. The clean lines of his face blurred into something too sharp, too consuming.
The sheets clung suffocatingly to your sensitive skin, the feel of your underwear unbearable. You twitched restlessly, pulling your legs tight one moment, straining to stretch them the next. Steve saw the shiver that ripped through you, the instinctive arch of your spine.
He kept his face calm, but the heat churned under his ribs too. He knew he had no right to think about the hot flush he felt creeping up your neck, about the tremors that rippled through your legs, about the wet slick that was flowing down them, about how much you needed him.
He could feel your pulse stammering beneath your neck, and it settled the havoc building within him.
“I’ll be right outside” he said softly, getting up to move toward the door. “You’ll be okay, I’ll make sure.”
The door slid shut behind him, and for the first time, the room fell into silence. Your heart thrummed like a drum within your chest. Somewhere beyond the wall you heard the voices bleed in, muffled and airy.
“She shouldn’t be in there alone right now” Tony snapped. “I don’t care how noble it looks. She needs help. Now.”
Thor rumbled low in response, words catching in the air heavily. “But who among us can endure such a trial without dishonour? A weaker man would falter.”
“That’s exactly the point” Tony cut in, sharper. “She needs someone who won’t falter. And that rules me out.”
Silence pressed back in for a moment, then Steve’s voice broke through, resolute.
“I know, trust me, I know she does” he breathed. “And I know it’s got to be me. Just, give me some direction.”
“Banner? Care to give our soldier a manual?” Tony prodded, pausing to look back at Steve. “Wait, what are we talking here Cap, you need to know how to make her cum? Or are you just tryna gauge what’s off limits?”
“No need to be crude, Tony” Steve cut in quickly, tone dropped, edging on warning.
Bruce exhaled heavily before answering, voice taut in its reluctant authority.
“I can’t tell you how to handle this. It’s between you and Y/N. What matters is keeping her system stable. She needs release, stimulation, your DNA in her. Whatever way that works.”
“So, it's decided” Tony hummed.
The heavy silence picked back up, then the door slid open again.
Steve stepped back inside, shadows cutting across his face. His eyes were already on you, and you couldn’t quite identify what was behind them.
He shut the door with deliberate care, effectively sealing you both away from the outside world. He found his place back at your side, allowing his hand to find yours.
“Are we both on the same page? Do you understand this is the only option?” He questioned slowly, head bowed as if he daredn’t look at you until he knew.
Your chest stuttered with a sharp inhale, tears pricking at your lashes as you managed a shaky “yes.”
“You trust me, don’t you?”
The words carried more conviction than question, like an affirmation he needed to ground himself in. His thumb traced soft, steady circles on the back of your hand as his eyes lifted to yours.
“I do” You breathed out.
“Good.”
His voice gentled, coming out like a quiet vow, “I’ll guide you through this, one step at a time.”
With practised care, he shifted you, strong hands gripping your fleshy hips toward the edge of the bed where he towered over you. He placed a pillow beneath your head, bringing his touch to wipe the corner of your eye, then to cradle your cheek lovingly. The small motions had you quivering, leaning your face into the sensations.
“Tell me what you need” He murmured.
The room swam around you, edges blurring. His presence, his husky voice, the warm smell of spice and amber clinging to him, they all cut through your haze like an anchor. This felt right. It had to be him. Salvation seemed to pour through every part of him, a divine guidance that soothed even as the ache enveloped you more intensely than ever.
The heat within you twisted at the surrender, surging into a fresh wave of ache, twisting through your veins with every reminder of his presence. Every pass of his thumb to your skin, every firm squeeze to your hip.
You turned your face toward him, eyes glossy, plump lips parted delicately. God, the way you looked at him, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. It hit him harder than any blow he’d ever taken in combat. He swallowed, jaw clenched tight. His historical resolve tore and trembled within him, giving way to something else. Something stronger than responsibility, more consuming than duty. Something he’d never allowed to surface until now- with you lying below him, lost in lust, your perfect, round tits heaving below your bra.
You felt it too, that slip in the air. The toxin didn’t just force urges upon you, it cradled them, pulled them together, forced them into shape from the very edges of your mind.
It sharpened them until they exploded with every forceful heartbeat.
Your body arched toward his, a sob catching in your throat. His eyes flicked down toward your soaking heat, and when they snapped back up to yours the blue in them was darker. Storm laced and determined.
“I just need you” you whispered, pleading. “Need you to fuck me.”
Steve’s hands steadied you, one sliding from your face to unclip your bra with practised ease. He swallowed thick as his eyes settled on your tits, breath deepening. He leaned closer, letting his hand trace around from your back, down your body to tug your soaked underwear slowly down your thighs, letting them land somewhere below him. He parted your legs gently, pulled them out wide as he brought them closer to your chest. His eyes were locked onto your glistening pussy between them. His voice came in a low murmur.
“I’ve got you… make you feel all better, yeah?”
For a heartbeat, the stretch of your legs left you feeling raw and fragile, every nerve trembled under the exposure. But a pulse of relief swept through you too, stable and certain, as though Steve was the only reprieve left. You let out a breathy hum.
His fingers moved to his own clothing, working quickly to tug at the seams of his uniform. The fabric slid down over his broad chest and shoulders, cut from years of discipline, serum forged perfection. Each new inch of skin made the air feel thinner, left your skin buzzing with want. Muscles rippled as he shrugged the suit down, and you could barely think past the rush in your veins, the way your whole body was clenching down in raw need.
His gaze never left yours as he worked his pants open, that unyielding blue seeming to hold you in place, promising stability as your body trembled. Then his cock sprang free, solid and heavy, thick with veins that throbbed in the same restrained urgency written across his face. Heat flared through you like wildfire, the sight of his length had your hips jerking upward, a wordless invitation.
“God…” the word cracked from him as he looked down at you- spread wide, trembling, eyes glossy and pleading. His hand wrapped around the base of himself, pumping twice before guiding his swollen head to your entrance. The first brush against your slick hole made you jolt, unbearable and perfect all at once. He held himself still, letting you steady- then he began to press in, slow and deliberate. You gasped, body seizing tight around him, pulling him deeper with every shallow thrust forward.
“Jesus, you’re-“ he cut himself off, teeth gritting as his breath shuddered. His fingers dug into your hips as he breathed measured exhales through his nose. “You’re so damn tight.”
Inch by inch, he pushed in deeper. The stretch was overwhelming, every nerve screamed, every muscle pulled taut, straining to accommodate him. It was too much- the stretch of him splitting you wide, filling you to the hilt until there was nothing left for you to give, but still he took more.
Your nails clawed at the sheets, unable to ground yourself against the flood of sensation as he bottomed out inside of you. A broken moan ripped from you, whiny and desperate. Steve stilled, eyes screwed shut.
“Just breathe honey” he rasped after a second, voice as wrecked as you. His thumb traced soft circles at your waist as his chest rose and fell in heavy pulls.
“That’s it, let me in.. nice and deep. We don’t have to rush a thing”
A low rumble vibrated from him, the sound raw, as if the molten heat of your pussy threatened to undo him. He bit down hard on his lip, exhaling rough, forcing back his urges. The ones to take you completely, to pound you into the mattress, give you everything he had all at once.
He pulled back only slightly, then pushed in again, hard. His rhythm was controlled, slow measured thrusts, but still threaded with need. Each movement sent sparks licking up your spine, hot pleasure searing up your abdomen, tightening low as his balls slapped lazily against the round of your ass. Each drag of him inside you stroked every tender, explosive nerve, the friction had your mouth falling open, breathing in ragged sobs.
The feel of your soaking cunt, clenching, scorching, swallowing him whole had his control fraying with every pound. He ground in deeper, his blunt head pressing against that devastating spot, tearing another cry from your throat. Pleasure flooded you, so sharp, so consuming it bordered on pain.
“Can’t hold back when you sound like that” he groaned, his words almost a growl.
His hand slid down, thumbing roughly against your clit, the harsh circles a wicked contrast to the slow, heaving rhythm of his thrusts. Your vision blurred, every sensation folding into the next until you were sobbing, body arching helplessly into him.
His eyes flickered, darkening as his hips began to snap harder, faster, each stroke punctuated with a guttural moan torn from his chest. He bent to your ear, voice low, heated.
“You feel that sweetheart? Your tight little pussy shaking around me? Tell me how it feels.”
The words sent lightning through your spine, walls clamping around him so violently he swore aloud. Wet, obscene sounds filled the air as his body hammered into yours with punishing precision, pleasure breaking over you in dizzying sputters.
“Feels so good, I can feel you everywhere” you blubbered, gaze dropping to where your bodies connected, the squelch of it filthy, undeniable. Your body trembled, hips chasing his with every ragged slam.
“Look at me” he ordered, his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face back toward his, forcing your eyes to meet his burning stare.
The heat of his skin, the weight of his body pressing into yours, the deep stretch splitting you apart and remaking you around him, it overtook you. You sobbed again, clutching at him, tidal wave cresting higher with every thrust.
Steve groaned, low in his chest, unravelling with each broken sound you made. Your cries cracked his resolve. “Open your mouth for me” he rasped, pulling into excruciatingly slow grinds that forced you to feel every inch, every ridge, every pulsing throb of his cock as it bullied into you.
You parted your lips, and his spit fell onto your tongue, warm and filthy. The sound you made had his cock twitching deep inside you. He kissed you, swallowing the taste of himself on your tongue.
“Good, baby. Taking what I give you so well” he muttered against your lips, humming back into a kiss. The rhythm that followed was brutal, you felt him claim you with each wave of hot pleasure, each stroke branding you inside out. He kissed along your throat, sucked at the hollow beneath your jaw until your skin was raw.
Each thrust dragged against the tenderest places tucked deep within you, coaxing whines from your lips that he shushed gently, thumb brushing over your wet cheek as his hips drove mercilessly deeper.
“Shh, I’ve got you. Told you I’d make it feel better. Wanna take it slow, I want you to feel all of it, want you to know it’s me.”
The intimacy laced with filth, the drag of his cock, the lingering feel of his spit down your throat all tangled together until your body shook beneath him, ready to snap.
He dragged back until only his tip was pressed inside you, then pushed in again, achingly slow, savouring the way your walls clenched and fluttered. You whimpered, fingers twisting in the sheets.
Another shallow thrust, another moan caught in your throat. His hand still cradled your jaw, thumb pressing in softly.
“That’s it, just look at me” he whispered.
You tried, lashes fluttering, but heat swamped every nerve, dragging your focus away into a dulled floaty delirium. He huffed a low laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth. He steadied your hips against the bed as you tried to buck for more.
“Not yet” he breathed, voice firm. “Wanna hear every sound you can make for me first.”
A sharp, deliberate thrust knocked the air from your lungs, your cry echoing through the room, desperate and drawn out. He groaned in response, forehead pressing to yours.
His pace stayed maddening, slow enough to torment, hard enough to wring pulse after pulse of need from your slick pussy. You were soaked, trembling, your whole body begging for release.
“Please, please… I wanna cum” you whimpered, voice breaking.
“Shh, it’s okay” he cooed, kissing your temple, “I know-” he kissed over your throat again, leaving open mouthed heat across your skin.
“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart, just hold on for me a little longer, yeah? Can you do that?” He said, words broken by heavy breaths.
The world narrowed to the press of his body and the cadence of your breath, the molten coil tightening inside of you. “Anything you want, I’m yours” you gasped.
He hummed, half grief and half hunger, the sound wound straight into your cunt. “That’s my girl. So good for me, taking me so well. You’re so beautiful like this” he breathed against your temple.
Towering up over you again, his palm pressed flat to your sternum, feeling the frantic drum beat beneath. His hand slid lower, cradling your fleshy tit as he pinched your hardened bud between two fingers, rolling it until your thighs shook. He soothed with his thumb in gentle circles over the peak, then pinched again, teasing until you were stuttering.
“You gonna cum baby? I know how bad you want it” he purred, his other hand gripping hard into your thigh as his pace snapped sharper. “So good… let go sweetheart, wanna feel you fall apart, milk my cock, it’ll fix you right up” his voice broke on the words, low and rough, praises spilling from his lips in an endless flow.
Your release wasn’t sudden so much as inevitable. The mark of him was everywhere, invading your every sense until you shattered. You gasped, breath hitching as the coil in your stomach finally broke free, pleasure springing outwards, up to the top of your tummy, down the length of your legs, warm and tingling.
You let out little sobs as he kept driving into you, unrelenting, his hand stroking the hair back from your damp face. Every punch from his cock dragged your orgasm out, clamping you tighter around him on the verge of overstimulation.
Steve’s jaw dropped as he felt it, the way your cushiony walls fluttered desperately around him, wringing him from base to tip. He slowed just slightly, breath shuddering, eyes locked on the way your body seized around him. His control buckled at the sight, hanging over you on trembling legs.
“Fuck-“ he spluttered out, “I’m gonna cum in your pussy. Keep me just like that- yeah that’s it… you’re gonna take every drop, you hear me?”
You blinked up at him through wet lashes, glassy eyes struggling under the weight of your climax. You clung to his arm, words tumbling out softly. “Wanna feel it all, want you to fill me up.”
Every muscle in him folded, every restraint unspooling with the flutter of your pussy. He poured himself into you in hot spurts, buried deep, moans tearing out in deep rumbles.
The storm ebbed slowly, leaving only the sound of breath- yours ragged and shallow, his heavy and uneven above you. Steve pressed his forehead to yours for a fleeting second, grounding himself before shifting carefully. His thumb brushed the salt from your damp cheeks, tugging the blanket from the bed’s edge and pulling it around your shivering frame. When you squirmed at the sticky pull between your thighs, his jaw flexed. Moving with quiet efficiency he reached for the tissue box at the nightstand and dabbed you clean as best he could with gentle touches.
He slid in beside you, tugging you against the breadth of his chest. His palm caressed over your back lightly, a simple and grounding lull as your heart still thrummed frantically beneath your ribs. Silence hung between you for a few moments, heavy but not uncomfortable. It was dense with unsaid sentiments you both wanted to linger in a while longer.
Then he exhaled a long breath, as if he was collecting pieces of himself. “How are you feeling?” His voice was careful, controlled, still frayed at its corners.
Your brain still felt scrambled, the heat echoing around the edges of you. “I’m okay” you breathed, though your brows knit together faintly, your body not yet catching up with your words.
Steve’s chest tightened at the answer. For the first time in a long time, he felt lost. Lost to his feelings, to the gentle, honey-dripping warmth that still cluttered around in his chest.
You swallowed, shifting against him. Part of you wanted to press in closer, soak in the heat of his body. The other part recoiled from every biting stab of fondness that furled around Steve’s very presence.
“You should rest for a while” he murmured, voice quiet. “I’ll.. check in with the others.”
You hummed in response, the sound small in the hush. His warmth lingered as he pressed one last reassuring squeeze to your side before untangling from you. He sat on the bed’s edge, shoulders hunched, jaw tight as he pulled his uniform back together. For a moment he sat still, broad back falling and rising as if he was zipping up more than just his clothes.
“We should talk, after” he said, looking back at you, not cold, but his gaze was heavy with an unreadable steadiness.
Your lips parted, but you couldn’t find words to fill the space. What if he didn’t mean what you wanted him to?
When he finally stood, he didn’t meet your eyes again, just flexed his hand at his side restlessly. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
The door sealed shut behind him, leaving you back in the quinjet’s quiet hum. Silence wrapped around you, heavy and disorienting. As if on cue, you heard Tony as he clapped his hands together.
“Well” he said, drawing out the word like a verdict, “looks like our gamble paid off. She’s alive, you’re still standing. Nobody… faltered?” You could hear the smirk threading through his tone. “Although, judging by your rosy disposition, I wouldn’t say you came out untouched.”
Even through the door, you could hear the weight that dragged in Steve’s silence. A long exhale, clipped and even, proved how Steve was holding himself together by a thread.
Bruce’s voice came quieter, a gentle counterweight. “She’s stabilising already, she’s okay. That’s what matters. He did exactly what needed to be done.”
“Exactly!” Thor’s voice boomed. “He selflessly placed her before himself, as an honourable warrior should. Many men would’ve been consumed, lost to the storm. Steve Rogers was not.”
“Was not?” Tony countered. “‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like our fearless leader very much.. was.” The vague hand gesture that surely followed needed no translation.
Your cheeks burned hot. Steve made a low, incredulous sound in his throat- something between a huff and a sigh.
“I’m teasing” Tony added, a shade softer. “Any of us could’ve- hell I probably would’ve- made it about ourselves. Cap, he kept it about her. That’s the difference. That’s why Boy Scout here gets the gold star.”
In the silence that again followed, you couldn’t picture what expression could’ve painted Steve’s face at those words. What happened between you, the lingering flutters that seemed to swim around you, it all felt like more.
Bruce cleared his throat then, redirecting. “Med bay’s ready, we’re clear to land. Once we’re on the ground she’ll be fully stabilised. Just keep her comfortable until then.”
“Comfortable, huh?” Tony said, whistling low. “Well. Pretty sure Cap’s got that covered.”
[ 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)
-older!bf geto who asks for your permission almost all the time during sex. “honey” his breath hot on your lips as he parts your legs, his fingers gliding across your underwear, slowly circling your clothed and soaked clit. “can I touch you here? is that okay? hm?”
-older!bf geto who keeps a picture of you in his wallet so whenever he’s away and missing you he has something to look at. Also if he gets totally drunk/can be sober, he’ll whip out the picture and just ramble on about you.
-older!bf geto who listens to all of your interests and what you like. Though he’s a bit on the older side and has no clue what you’re talking about he’ll be supportive and help you collect anything that has to do with your interests.
-older!bf geto who praises you any chance he gets. “that’s my good girl.” “you’re such a smart girl.” “my perfect, perfect baby.” “I’m so proud of you.” “you did a good job, honey.”
-older!bf geto who over caters to you so much. “did you eat today?” and if you say no he’ll have you sit in the kitchen whilst he fixes you up something. If you’re sick he’ll drop everything to be with you and help you heal. If you’re off in public he’ll tell everyone you two have to go and then he’ll run you a warm hot bath and sit in it with you, your back against his chest.
-older!bf geto who’s very overprotective over you. it may come from a deep sense of insecurity whenever he sees you chatting it up with someone your age. it takes you awhile to reassure him.
-older!bf geto who spoils you rotten that you got used to not hearing the word ‘no’.
-older!bf geto who despises your sleep schedule, he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and see you doomscrolling and force you to put the phone down.
-older!bf geto who uses his tie from his suit to bind your wrists together and fuck you relentlessly whilst whispering in your ear how good you’re taking him.
-older!bf geto who handles arguments with ease, you’ll be the brat and he’ll let you have your brat moment before he bends you over his lap and spanks you until he decides to stop making you count.
#needthatseniorcitzen!! oh em gee I wrote this bc of the song “my moon my man” wait that song turns me on actually it’s so fucking good😩.
stealing someone's heart is the hardest heist of all to pull off - what happens when yours is caught between the man trying to save you and one who swears you don't need to be saved?
synopsis: sneaking into penthouses to steal jewels in your spare time is fun - until a certain white-haired CEO catches you. but instead of sending you to the slammer, he strikes a proposal to suit both your interests. the only problem? it looks like your fiancè-to-be has a few secrets of his own up his sleeve, ones your former superhero fling is determined to dig up
paring: hero!Geto x thief!Reader x villain!Gojo
content: mdni, modern superhero AU!, fem-bodied reader (loosely inspired by black cat!), pining and yearning, angst and smut galore!, coworkers lol, taking care of wounds from typical superhero crime fighting violence, piv sex, choking, oral (m! + f! receiving), multiple povs + positions as per usual, blackmail (kinda sorta it's complicated ok!!), man who wants to make you better vs a man who wants to make you worse (LISTEN)
chapter index
one: haunted two: dreamer
three: a night to remember four: trouble
five: silver lining six: while you were sleeping
seven: lovesick eight: fragile
interlude: nocturne
nine: promise ten: serendipity
alternate ending
gojo art by ash.eko on ig + geto art by @aransmind + dividers by @bronzewasp
can i drink from your water 2 (namor x black!reader smut)
"Wouldn’t you like that? To be worshiped by a God?”
Warnings: Obsessive behavior, dark Namor, stalking, oral sex, fingering, public sex, squint your eyes and its dubcon
A/N: we back baybee, like, comment, reblog, make me laugh, thirst with me, cross posted on Ao3. I don't do tag lists, sorry!
Part 1 here.
🌊🌊🌊
He didn’t come back that night.
You stayed up, wrapped in your robe and staring at your broken door as the wind howled through the hole. You didn’t sleep, even as the sun rose and broke through the clouds.
It wasn’t until nearly noon when you got up from your seat and slumped to the bathroom, running yourself a bath to wash away the strange feelings developing deep within your belly.
Your bath was a blur and the next thing you knew you were staring at your reflection and the darkened bruises all over your neck and chest.
Wincing, you wrapped yourself in your towel and turned away from the looking glass, choosing to walk to your bedroom instead. You slathered moisturizer on your skin and got dressed in your favorite pair of loose shorts and a plain tee. You tried to cover the hickies on your neck as best as you could, dabbing a thick layer of concealer on your skin. You gathered half of your fresh braids and put them up, letting the rest fall down your back.
With a loud yawn, you padded down the hallway and into the living room, flinching at the sight of the hole in the front door. You frowned and inspected it, pulling the door open to get a closer look at the damage.
Your screen door was ripped off the hinges and in your front yard, while your wooden door creaked in protest when you tried to open it further.
“Bonjou!” Ellis’s voice greeted you as he rode up on his motorbike, toolbox attached to the back of it.
You felt yourself tense as you remembered Namor’s threat from last night. “Bonjou.” You greeted under your breath and attempted a smile.
“I see the wind did a number on the house.” He whistled low, getting off his bike and grabbing his tool box, “I thought I was just going to have to unseal your windows, didn’t know I’d be fixing a door.”
You shrugged and stepped out from your home to join him in your front yard. You put a hand up to block the sun and inspected your house.
It was fine, save for the doors.
“I like your hair, cheri.” Ellis complimented beside you, taking a braid in between his fingers and inspecting the pattern, “Must have taken all night, is that why you look so tired?”
“What?” You blurted, putting your hands to your flushed cheeks, “Do I look that terrible?”
“Non, non.” Ellis shook his head with wide eyes, “That isn’t what I meant, I just… that came out wrong. You could never look terrible, you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”
You looked up at him in surprise, lowering your hands as your heart fluttered.
“Uh,” The Belizean man sputtered, “I should get started on those windows.”
You watched as he turned away from you, your face flushing. “Yeah…” You muttered, slowly walking back into your home.
You liked Ellis.
Ellis thought you were beautiful. The most beautiful.
The dreamy sigh that left your lips was involuntarily as was the drop of your stomach when you caught sight of the conch shell on your side table.
“I’ll kill him.”
You had no reason not to believe him.
You picked up the conch shell gingerly and inspected it, running your fingers down the grooves and bumps. Now you knew without a doubt that he was the one who had given it to you.
“Sèpan dlo a.” You whispered, your brows furrowing as questions ran through your mind.
Why had the Water Serpent come for you? Why did you feel such a pull towards him when he was near? What would happen when he came back? Would he take you?
The sound of Ellis knocking a hammer against your door knocked you out of your thoughts and you hurriedly put the conch shell back in its place. You gathered your braids and flipped them to your back, plastering on a smile as Ellis tested the hinges of your front door.
His brown eyes were on you and he looked away when you met his gaze. “I would have stayed,” He muttered, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him, “If I knew it would be this bad.”
You blinked before shaking off his concern, “It’s okay, Ellis-!”
“No, it was careless of me.” Ellis shook his head, putting his toolbox down to brush a thumb over your cheek, “It was your first storm, I should’ve been here. Mwen dezole, mezanmi.”
Your lashes fluttered and your lips spread in a small smile, “Se oke, it’s fine. No need to apologize, you’re already doing enough for me.”
“Mwen ta fè anyen pou ou, cheri.” Ellis whispered just under his breath and you furrowed your brows as he began to duck his head down to your level.
You wanted him to kiss you. You had been begging for him to kiss you for months. But the moment his soft lips touched yours; you missed the taste of saltwater.
You tried not to think too hard about it, pressing against Ellis’s lips and fisting his shirt in your hands.
🌊🌊🌊
Time passed, first a day then a week, and when you looked up it had been a month.
To cope, you tried to tell yourself what you’d experienced, what you felt, wasn’t real.
Your bruises faded, you replaced your door, and life went on. You put all of your affection into Ellis, who gladly reciprocated.
It was a Thursday afternoon when Ellis told you he loved you but by that point you already knew.
He’d bring you flowers and fruit, sometimes even whole meals sent from his family. He took you on walks and held your hand. He gazed at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention and dropped by your home just to check on you.
You told him you loved him too because you did. You did love him, a warm fuzzy love that made you smile.
He invited you to dinner with his family that night and you dressed in a white wrap dress and sandals, your hair piled on top of your head with pearls in your ears.
As you walked the short distance to his family’s home, you felt your ancestors greeting you, their spirits guiding your way and keeping you safe.
You hadn’t just fell in love with Ellis, but also Dangriga and you understood why your grandmother never left, even in her later years when your mom tried to get her to come to the states so that she could be taken care of.
It was a beautiful place, truly, with beautiful people.
When you arrived at the Robateau household you were greeted with warmth and kindness. His father kissed both of your cheeks, his mother wrapped you in a tight embrace and his manman made a blessing over you. Even his siblings welcomed you warmly, already proclaiming that you were their sè, their sister.
Sitting at that round table filled with food and pitchers of sorrel surrounded by family reminded you of your own manman. You knew she was smiling down at you from heaven and scowling when you refused to eat another bite.
“Ou tande pale de Jack?” Ellis's father, Ellis Sr., asked the table and his wife groaned.
“Aye, not this again, misye!” She snapped with a scowl, pouring more sorrel into your glass. “We are supposed to be celebrating and here you talkin’ bout Jack.”
You furrowed your brows, leaning over to Ellis, “Who’s Jack?” You tried to whisper but his father heard you.
“One of the men I fished with, sòm twenty years. He went on the water to do some night fishing and now he’s gone!”
Ellis’s manman clicked her teeth and nodded, “Been missing for a week now, aye.”
“Mama, not you, too.” Ellis’s mother groaned, placing her hand on yours, “Ignore them, cheri. They are always so morbid-!”
“Timea,” The elder woman snapped at her daughter, “Do not be so blind.”
“He is the 8th one of my friends who have disappeared in a matter of a couple weeks.” Ellis Sr. exclaimed before shaking his head, “All of them, gone! All at night! It’s not normal, Bondye mwen.”
“Someone must have angered Sèpan dlo a!”
“And there it is.” Ellis muttered to you, stealthily rolling his eyes.
“What was that, ti gason?”
“Nothing, manman,” He hurriedly covered but you were too enthralled to laugh, “It’s just that maybe, maybe they drowned themselves? Being that all of them were notorious drunks-!”
Ellis Sr. bristled, his glare sharp at his son, “Pa pale mò yo mal, ti gason.They can still hear you even though they are gone, be respectful.”
“Padon, papa.” Ellis bowed his head for a moment before continuing, “I’m just saying, how long are we going to blame disappearances on a creature that does not-!”
Miss Timea glanced at you uneasily, sending you a small smile. “We should not talk about this at the table, for the children’s sake.”
“That's an even better reason!” The elder woman exclaimed, looking over to the kids, “Remember what ou manman says, timoun yo,” She lowered her voice and narrowed her eyes, “Do not go to the water alone.”
Your blood ran cold and you looked down at your cup, staring at the dark purple liquid. The conversation continued around you but you didn’t hear it, too consumed in your own thoughts and memories to engage.
“Don’t go in the water alone, child.”
“Come to me.”
“You thought I was going to drown you?”
“What do they call me here again? Sèpan dlo a?”
“I’ll kill him.”
“I saw him.” You blurted before you could censor yourself and all the chatter around the table stopped. You looked up from your cup and saw all eyes on you. “I mean it. I-I saw it.” You swallowed and lowered your voice, leaning into the table, “Sèpan dlo a.” You felt a hand brush your shoulder and you looked over at Ellis, who had an unreadable expression on his face.
“Go on, chile.” His manman urged, waving her hand.
You took a deep breath and downed the rest of your sorrel, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “I was… I was a little girl. Seven, I think. He was in the water and I could only see the top of its head-!”
“That could’ve been anyone.” Ellis protested next to you only to be shushed by his family.
“The next time I saw him, I was ten, that time I saw its face and shoulders-!”
“It looked like a man?” Miss Timea questioned and you nodded once, shrinking into yourself.
“It did. The last time-!”
“You saw the creature three times?!” The elder woman exclaimed, before making the sign of the cross, “Bondye mwen!”
“I was sixteen.” You breathed, wringing your hands under the table, “He was in the water, h-he reached for me, he talked to me.” You paused then, your brows furrowing as you zeroed in on your half eaten plate.
“What did he say?” Ellis Sr. asked and you bit your lip as your blood ran cold at the memory of his smoldering gaze and the dark expression on his face.
“Come to me.” You muttered under your breath, “He, it said, ‘Come to me.’ Mon manman grabbed me before he could grab me.” You explained, your throat constricting.
It was quiet around the table for a few long moments and when you looked over at Ellis, he wasn’t looking at you.
When he walked you home that night, you apologized for ruining dinner.
He kissed you on the cheek.
“It’s okay, mon amour,” He murmured against your forehead, “You probably were just confused, anyway.”
Confused. Conflicted. Hell, maybe even corrupted.
You didn’t tell him that when you prayed at night it wasn’t to his God.
🌊🌊🌊
More people started disappearing, men specifically, and it was not just at night.
The whispers of Sépan dlo a’s wrath spread among the town like wildfire. Everywhere you went was someone with a theory on it but all the stories were the same; someone went on the water and was never seen again.
Some say they even heard their screams as they were dragged into the water, heard the sounds of them begging for their lives.
You hate to think it’s because of you.
Ellis doesn’t believe the stories. He says that the victims were probably just drunk.
You offhandedly agree with him and you have to because it helps you to relieve yourself of the guilt. But maybe, just maybe, it was you who had angered Sèpan dlo a.
Not Sèpan dlo a, but K'ul'ku'kan,
Not a spirit, but a God.
The guilt began to consume you from the inside out, nearly swallowing you whole on days where you didn’t have anything to distract you.
Your thoughts were filled with what would happen if you went down to the beach alone to plead, negotiate, fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness for whatever you did to bring such wrath upon your beloved home.
Would he even care? Does he even care?
Some mornings, in the early hours of the sun peeking from the horizon, you found yourself walking to that same beach. Dressed in pajamas and sandals, you’d get to the very edge of the water and wait, your eyes zeroing in on every ripple and wave.
He wasn’t there.
He was never there and you cried.
🌊🌊🌊
The elders of Dangriga agreed that something must be done about this problem, so they decided to make an offering to Sepan dlo a. A basket of fruits, flowers, beads, and jewelry. They left it at the mouth of the North River and prayed over it, asking for mercy.
You heard about the event that night from Ellis, who scoffed at the idea and bemoaned his manman for even believing in something so archaic.
There was no Sèpan dlo a, just drunk men who were swept in the current.
You absentmindedly agreed with him as the two of you sipped sorrel and lounged on your bed, him resting on your chest. Your eyes fluttered closed as he told you he loved you and you repeated the phrase back to him.
It was raining when you blinked yourself awake in the early hours of the morning. A light, calming rain, that barely made noise against your roof. You could feel the light sweat on your face and flush of your cheeks, along with the warmth the gin from the sorrel provided your body. You shimmied out of Ellis’s arms and got up from your bed, placing a hand on your forehead.
Deciding that the light rain and the breeze would feel good against your heated skin, you slipped on a pair of sandals and walked to your porch, softly closing your front door behind you.
You stepped into the rain and closed your eyes, absentmindedly tying the belt to your wrap dress as you felt the soft raindrops kiss your skin. You tilted your head back and sighed in content.
It was then when you felt something else and your eyes snapped open. You froze and listened to the breeze, hearing nothing but feeling that undeniable call to the sea.
Your feet begin to move without much thought and the rain made the fabric of your dress stick to your skin. You were in a trance, swaying and slow and before you realized it, you were at the shoreline.
The offering basket the elders had left was still on the beach, the tide lapping at it every time it came in and you looked down at it with furrowed brows.
Why hadn’t he come to retrieve his gift?
The sound of the waves didn’t falter and you saw nothing in the swells, only white caps. You lowered yourself to your knees then, the familiar tears pooling under your lids. “Why are you doing this? Why are you killing so many men here, if not for me?” You muttered, fisting the wet skirt of your dress. “For my attention? I give it to you, I come to this beach and you ignore me. What do you want from me?” You begged, tears streaming down your cheeks.
The sound of chewing and slurping sounded behind you and you looked over your shoulder, finding the very entity you were begging for eating a mango. He licked the juice from his lips and with a flash of his teeth, offered you the other half of the peeled fruit.
You turned around, still on your knees and looked up at the god above you, your lip trembling. Namor raised his brows at your lack of answer and broke off a piece of the fruit, fluttering closer to you and cupping your jaw.
“Je’e,” He rasped above you, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip, “Open.” You did as you were told, allowing him to slide a bit of mango into your mouth, along with his thumb.
The mango tasted sweet, while his thumb tasted like salt. Together it was like eating saltwater taffy. He slid his thumb out of your mouth and wiped the juice that gathered, bringing it to his mouth to lick it off.
“Ma’alob.” He hummed, his gaze all encompassing, “Good.”
You licked your lips and swallowed, your heart beating against your ribs. “Namor-!”
“Sh sh sh…” He clicked his tongue and shook his head, taking another mango from the basket and peeling it with his knife. “You do not call me that, in preciosa,” He murmured with a playful tilt of his lips, “For I am not your enemy. Je’e.”
You opened your mouth again and he fed you more mango, lowering himself to his knees before you. “Ku,” You stumbled over his name, “K’ul, ku-!”
“K’ul’ku’kan.” Namor corrected slowly, thumbing at your bottom lip.
“K’ul’ku’kan,” You repeated, only continuing when he hummed in approval, “Why didn’t you come back?” You whispered the question, almost ashamed of it. “I waited-!”
Namor’s chilling glare silenced you and his fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling your face close to his. “Do not lie.” He rasped with a frown, “I know of the boy.”
You tried to look away but he wouldn’t allow it, following your gaze and forcing your forehead to his. “Mwen dezole,” You murmured, as his thumb stroked the hair at the nape of your neck, “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Namor rasped, his eyes still settled in a glare. “In akaljantik, too. For what I had to do.”
You breath hitched and you frowned, “The men?” You asked and he said nothing, only gently moving your head to the side to ghost his lips across your cheek.
“I will kill a hundred more,” He pledged against your skin, his gaze returning to yours, “If you lie to me again, chichan in preciosa.” He dragged his lips over your parted ones, his tongue running over them, “My precious little one, don’t you know you belong to me?”
“I’m sorry.” You echoed lowly, one of your straps choosing that moment to fall down your shoulder. “Bondye mwen, I belong to you, K’ul’ku’kan.”
Namor let out a harsh exhale from his nose, his glare turning into one of passion. He squeezed the back of your neck and forced your lips to his, tugging you onto his lap. You threw your arms over his broad shoulders, moaning as the stretch in your thighs around his hips made them burn. He tasted of mango and salt and you melted into him, burying a hand in his wet hair as he licked into your mouth.
You cried out in the quiet of the beach as he rutted his thick erection against your center, making you feel every inch of him through your clothes. He roughly slapped you on the ass and you yelped, biting his lip as you jumped.
“Tak ka'anal.” He muttered against your lips, pushing you off his lap, “Up.”
You did as you were told, hurriedly standing and he grabbed your ass in his hands, looking up at you as he shoved your dress up to bury his face in your cotton-covered cunt. You whimpered as he licked at you through the fabric before tearing your panties off of you and exposing your wet skin to the chilled night air.
“Bondye mwen,” You breathed, as he grabbed your hips, forcing you against his mouth, “Beet!”
“Your god.” He mocked your words into your folds, sucking your clit between his lips as he slid a finger into your wet heat. You threw your head back and gasped for air, your knees becoming weak.
Namor’s eyes glared up at you as he added another finger, scissoring the two inside of you. “Did the boy touch you?” You shook your head insistently, crying out when he slapped your ass.
“Speak.”
“No!” You shouted, wincing as he added another thick finger, “No, he didn’t touch me, he didn’t…ah!” You jumped as he landed another stinging slap to the fat of your ass.
Namor spat on your clit and rubbed circles around it with his thumb, his other hand reaching up to untie your dress, making it fall open for the world to see. He stood then, his fingers still buried deep inside of you, and attached his mouth to one of your nipples, nipping at it then soothing away the pain before moving behind you so you didn’t fall.
Your mouth fell open and your nails dug into his arm as you felt your orgasm coming near and nearer, just within your reach. The damned god was working you deeply but slowly, to the point that you felt as if you were walking on a thin line. Every muscle in your body tensed and you wanted nothing more than to cum, to satisfy the ache you felt in your abdomen.
“Give it to me,” He demanded, wrapping his strong arm around your waist when you began to tremble and he felt so massive against your back, “Give me your climax as an offering to your god.”
“Beet.” You begged pathetically, your bottom lip jutting in a pout as the rest of your face twisted in a grimace, “Fuck for the love of god, please!”
“You’re almost there, in preciosa, I feel you squeezing my fingers, just give your pleasure to me and I will reward you with things you’ve never imagined. Wouldn’t you like that? To be worshiped by a God?”
Something inside of you snapped and you cried out into the night, coming so hard that your nails drew blood on his forearm as he held you up. Your hips bucked against his hand and you openly weeped, humping the air like a teenager touched for the first time.
“In ma'alo'ob ch'úupalo', ta meentaj Jach ma'alob. Il bix a ch'aaj tumen in k'ab, jach jats'uts yéetel precioso.” Namor rasped praises into your ear as you rode out your orgasm, translating his words in the very next breath, “Good girl, you did so well. Look how you're dripping down my arm, so beautiful and precious. All for me.”
Your mouth gaped like a fish and you braced yourself against his hard body, already fucked out and delirious. “Bondye mwen,” You muttered, glancing up at him behind you. He hummed and nuzzled his nose against yours, “Beet,” You mouthed, licking your lips, “Please, I want, I need… please can I have your cock, maako?”
“So respectful.” Namor praised with a dark tilt of his lips, he continued to nuzzle his nose against yours, before he pressed his lips against your shoulder, “Do you deserve my cock, in preciosa?”
“Yes.” You immediately answered and he chuckled, turning you around and gripping your hips in his hands. He smiled at you again, teasing as he brushed your dress off your shoulders.
“I could split you in two.” He warned, his grin widening when you shook your head, “No?” He widened his eyes mockingly.
“I don’t,” You breathed, shaking your head, “I don’t care.” You insisted and he laughed, pressing his hard-on against your stomach.
“You don’t care, hm?”
You shook your head again, your lashes lidded, “I want you to split me in two, mon amour.” You admitted and watched the amusement leave the god’s eyes.
In the next moment, you were bent in half on your back and he was between your legs, his cock bare and heavy on your slit. Your wrists were pinned above you and you whimpered as his cockhead pushed against your sensitive clit.
“Mon amour,” He echoed under his breath, his tongue rolling the final consonant with his eyes on yours, “Mon amour?”
You nodded, parting your lips to say, “It means-!”
“I know.” Namor snapped and you tensed, moaning when his length poked at your entrance. He eased himself inside of you and you both hissed in unison. “Fuck,” He spat, his brow furrowed, “I know what it means.” He let go of the hold on your wrists to keep your thighs spread, grimacing as he inched himself further into you.
You bit your lip as he stretched you out, your chest heaving at the slight burn. “Bondye mwen,” You breathed, using your free hands to tug him to you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-!” You couldn’t finish your thought as Namor bottomed out inside of you, leaving you dumb and twitching.
Those dark eyes were glaring into yours as he shifted his hips, making sure you felt every vein in his girthy member. “Say it again.” He demanded in a low rasp.
You furrowed your brows, your breath hitching as he rolled his hips into yours. “Bondye mw-!” A slap to your thighs made you quake and shout, your skin stinging.
“Say it again.” The god repeated himself through his teeth, his cock twitching inside of you.
You nodded and licked your lips, “Mon,” You started, checking to see if that is what he wanted, “Mon amour.” A sharp thrust made you gasp and grasp onto his forearms.
“Again.”
“Mon amour.” You cooed, your tits jiggling as he fucked you against the sand. “Mon amour, mon amour, mon amour!”
Namor was nearly growling now, his heavy body now draped over yours as he took you on the beach. His eyes drank up every part of your lips, furrow of your brow, and flutter of your lashes and you tried your best to return his gaze through your pleasure filled grimace.
“So beautiful, my precious girl.” He muttered against your lips before dipping his tongue into your mouth, “So sweet.”
“Mon amour,” You hiccuped, your back dragging against the sand as he continuously pulled you against him, “Feels so good, god.” You slurred, drool leaving the side of your mouth as your toes curled.
Namor hummed, his chest vibrating against yours, “Greedy girl,” He mocked, reaching down to rub your clit, “You’re cumming again?” You nodded urgently, quick pants leaving your mouth as he leaned back to tug at one of your nipples.
Your walls fluttered around his length and he groaned, throwing his head back for a moment at the feeling. “I’m going to fill you with my cum, in preciosa, so deep you’ll taste me and then I will make you my bride.”
Your breath hitched at the promise and you choked on a moan, feeling his balls tighten below you. “I’m coming.” You blurted, your eyes snapping shut, “Fuck, please don’t-!” He pressed his searing hot lips to yours and you groaned into his mouth, your back arching away from the sand and your chest pressing against his.
Namor held you close to him as he continued to thrust up into you, his fingers digging into your skin as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Hincharás yéetel in etail yéetel in k'aaye' yaan in bisik ka'atúul.” He rambled incoherently through clenched teeth, “Ta'akun ti' teen, utia'al u mixmáak asab béeyak yaantal ti' teech.”
The god came with a loud groan, cradling your head as he buried his own into your neck. “Mix máak asab u yaantal ti' teech. Mix máak asab u yaantal ti' teech. Mix máak asab u yaantal ti' teech.” He kept murmuring the same phrase over and over again against your skin as he filled you with his cum, so much so that it did in fact begin to pool out from where you were joined.
You wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back as he caught his breath, the both of you wet from sweat and the light rain that still poured down on you.
Namor’s eyes were soft as he pulled his head from your neck and pecked your lips. “Níib óolal.” He rasped, running a hand through his damp hair, “Thank you.”
You furrowed your brows as you looked up at him, “Why are you thanking me?”
The god smiled, amusement lighting up his brown eyes again, “For your offering.”
🌊🌊🌊
Translations:
Creole:
"Mwen dezole, mezanmi."
I'm sorry, my dear.
“Mwen ta fè anyen pou ou, cheri.”
I'd do anything for you, honey.
“Ou tande pale de Jack?”
Did you hear about Jack?
“Pa pale mò yo mal, ti gason.
Do not speak ill of the dead, boy.
“Bondye mwen!”
My god
Yucatec Mayan:
in preciosa
my precious
In akaljantik
I'm sorry
"Hincharás yéetel in etail yéetel in k'aaye' yaan in bisik ka'atúul. Ta'akun ti' teen, utia'al u mixmáak asab béeyak yaantal ti' teech."
You will swell with my seed and I will take you both away so no one else can have you.
Erik being the most popular person at Texas Southern University, he has his heart set on a particular girl.
- - - - - - - - - -
(Y/N thrived to be the best student she could possibly be. Straight A’s with a 4.4 GPA. She sacrificed everything for her to have straight A’s. Sleepless nights, early mornings, majorette practice classes and everything else. Sometimes she just wanted to experience the full college experience. This semester she was determined to not only keep a good student record, but to make last year of college the most memorable.
“Girl, you have no idea how happy. I am to be out of those damn dorms.” her bestfriend/ roommate Omariana exclaimed, helping her put the groceries in the refrigerator. She was mostly excited about the fact that she can have more privacy. It was like she was claustrophobic them damn dorm rooms.
“I’m telling you, shit was so tight inn there you could barely move.” she chuckled before Omariana smirked at her.
“So you remember when we were talking last week and you told me that you wanted to do more this year?” she said leaning on the counter, (Y/N) looked up at her and nodded. “KJ is throwing a small kick back. We are going.” (Y/N) nearly had a heart attack. She said that but she ain’t know the goal was starting this early.
“Tonight? You know I have to go on campus and-” (Y/N) was cut off short by Omariana placing her finger over her lips making a shh noise.
“This will probably by the only time you are really free, and not just giving yourself random shit to do. We are going and we are going to look. Especially you Ms.Thing. Done got a lil thick on me.” she said smacking her butt.
Over the summer, (Y/N) really got into more shape. Being a dancer, she was naturally it but now she had a lot more figure and a lot more ass.
It caught some off guard, she was a little more put together and she was living for it. “Girl stop before you make me act up.” (Y/N) jokingly said.
“Mhm, well ion know about you but I need to get an outfit tonight. You coming with?” Omariana asked as she nodded.
- - - - - - - - - -
Erik sat in his bestfriends, Jakeen, living room smoking one of the blunt that he brought with him. With all the moving, traveling back and forth between Oakland and Houston, he was happy to finally be at a holt.
“Damn, are you passing or what?” Erik shot a glare at the nigga that ‘if you don’t leave me the fuck alone’ look.
“Ion share my shit. Ion even know you like that.” Jakeen’s friend from one of his program engineering course was over visiting.
“Can y’all not do this right now, damn.” Jakeen said. “Monte you ain’t bring your own?” he said. Monte smacked his lips. “I should have a dime and a blunt on my dresser..” Jakeen said sitting across from Erik.
“Are you going to KJ’s tonight?” Jakeen asked Erik, while scrolling through Instagram.
“Hell yeah, it’s been a minute since we’ve chilled and smoke with each other.” Erik said, taking the extra ash of the blunt.
“Damn, have you seen Omariana ole friend?” he asked her. Erik looked up at him.
“Uh, (Y/N) right? What about her?” Jakeen handed his phone to Erik, Erik took it.
“Damn…” he whispered to himself. It was Omariana’s page. It was a picture of the both of them in their new apartment holding keys. Omariana sat on the counter laughing as (Y/N) had her back facing the camera but her head was turned to the side, so he saw her side profile, she was also laughing. It looked as if the picture was taken off guard.
He didn’t really know much about her, he knew that she was on the majorette team, she made deans list every single time and she was on the debate team. She was definitely a scholar, but she always wore baggy clothes, stood to herself, not really going to parties and what not. The only reason she was really known was because she was on the dance and debate team. And she was one of the good looking girls on campus.
He also knew her because she was once close friends to a old friend of his.
“She got hella thick.” he said handing the phone back.
“I might have to hit up Omariana. It’s been a minute since we linked.” Jakeen said, smirking to himself. Jakeen and Omariana were the true definition of a toxic pair. They were on and off, arguing, having sex, would argue some more, than act like none of that shit happened or they were so in love with each other.
“I thought you were done with her.” Erik chuckled.
“Shit, me too. Until I caught wind of her talking to one of her ex’s back home. Now I wanna see what’s up.” he said. Jakeen was a true definition of menace.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Do my make up look okay?” (Y/N) asked, walking into their shared living room. Omariana nodded. “Okay, good. Where everyone at?” she asked going into the kitchen.
“I just let them into the front gate, they wanted to come see the new apartment.”
Their group of friends consisted of Brandy, Travis, Kia and Kobe. Kia and Kobe were fraternal twins. Kia and Brandy are also on the dance team. Kobe is also on the debate. Kobe and Brandy have been in a relationship since freshmen year.
Then there was Travis. Where to begin with him. He was on the football team. He had his fair share of ladies but (Y/N) couldn’t help but have the biggest crush on him for the past three years. Sadly, an old friend told him about it. He reached out to her and told her that he wasn’t interested in her like that due to her not being his type. He told her that being friends was the best thing for the both of them.
Obviously it caught her off guard because she had no intensions on ever telling him about the small crush but she ended up just saying that she understood.
After that encounter, their friendship wasn’t the same. What could she do? Apart of her was nervous, but the other wanted to show him how she was. With this new found confidence, she felt comfortable enough to have a conversation with him.
There was a knock on the door, Omariana stood up and walked over to the door to open it. As soon as she opened the door, noise filled the apartment. “Ohh this is nice!” Kia exclaimed walking into the apartment looking around. The other three piled in. “Oh my God, you look so good!” Kia exclaimed hugging (Y/N).
“Thank you, you do too.” she said to her. After they all said their greetings, except Travis who still yet has to say something to her, Omariana decided to give them a small tour. (Y/N) decided to stay in the kitchen and tidy up. She heard footsteps and saw Travis walking towards the kitchen. She looked up at him and smiled. “What’s up, big head?” he said, walking closer to her.
“What’s up withchu.” she said as he sighed shrugging his shoulders. “You know, working, training, staying on my grind you. You know how it is.”
“How about you? I’ve seen you done changed on me. You ain’t four-eyed no mo.” he said looking her up and down.
It was an understatement to say that he was checking her out. How could he not? Over the summer she did post on her snap. Her occasional selfie. Motivational quotes. But she had stopped posting on her Instagram and Tiktok. She really was on her shit now.
She kissed her teeth. “Boy bye. I still wear my glasses. I just got contacts so where I’m dancing they don’t fall.” she told him as he raised an eyebrow at her.
“Attitude? Yeah you most definitely changed up on me.” he said. He bit his lip before saying, “But you do look good though.” she knew that look. He gave that look to the girls he was trying to get at.
“I know but thank you.” she smiled at him.
The confidence she showed was something that he never saw in her. She really did change, and he was feeling it.
The others came from Omariana’s room. He wanted to talk to her some more but he was interrupted.
“Y’all ready?” she asked stepping from the kitchen and walking passed him He smelled her scent that lingered behind her. If there was one thing that he liked was a girl that smelled good.
“Yeah let’s head out.”
- - - - - - - - - -
Erik gave one look to his outfit to see if he looked good. He wore a pair of black jeans, a yellow Nike hoodie with a pair of yellow, black and white Air Jordans 4 Retros. A gold bottom grill and his stud earrings. He walked up to the house opening the door to see his friend Ty in the kitchen.
“Damn nigga, you late.” Ty said as Erik shrugged.
“I got high and fell asleep.” he looked around to see only a few people in the living room. They were listening to music, drinking and smoking. He recognized a couple of people there, a girl or two had a fling with. A couple of the dudes bought weed from him. He even saw his ex Aliyah with a roll of her eyes.
The front door opened, Jakeen and Monte walked in. They saw the two in the kitchen before they walked into the kitchen. Jakeen dapped KJ up before introducing the two.
“Who else coming?” Erik asked. He was not looking forward to this kick back turning into a party.
“Travis and his people are coming over. That should be it. I tried to keep it low as possible.” he told him. Just the sound o his name made Erik clench his jaw in anger.
“That nigga comin?” Erik asked.
Erik and Travis used to be friends. That was until over the summer Travis got with the ex Aliyah. Travis said it was a mistake and he was drunk. His ex, Aliyah claimed that the both of them were drunk. She was lonely because he was spending most of his time in Oakland over the summer.
He completely lost his shit.
“I thought you weren’t coming, so I invited him. And he’s bringing Omariana Kia and (Y/N).” he said, Erik rolled his eyes. Erik was about to say something but the front door opened. In poured the group but (Y/N). Erik didn’t even want to be in his presence but he wasn’t going to move to make it seem like he was bothered by him. “What’s up?” Brandy set placing the liquor on the counter. “I got drinks!”
“Aye that’s what’s up.” KJ said, opening the bag to see three bottle of Henny and a bottle of patron. “Where is (Y/N)?” KJ asked.
“She’s outside emailing her English teacher.” Travis said. Just the sound of his voice made made him want to throw a punch at his face.
Right on cue, the door opened and in she walked. Erik couldn’t lie, she got his attention. She had on a pair of black ripped shorts, a white tube top that read “Mi amore” in red with a black red and white 90′s styled varsity jacket. She wore and a pair of white black red and white high top Air Jordans with Nike socks. Her braids sat in a high pony tail on the top of her head with her edges freshly done.
“Okay, I know some of y’all don’t know her or haven’t talked to her but this is (Y/N).” Omariana replied as she waved.
“What’s up with you, ma?” Erik said smiling at her. He was expecting her to blush or even giggle but she just smiled at him.
He saw Travis giving him the most dirtiest look ever. That’s when it hit him. That nigga wanted to at her. His while attitude changed when Erik spoke to her. He thought it was hilarious actually. He remembers the day that Travis told him about what he felt about (Y/N) liking him.
“Bro honestly, she ain’t even my type at all. She’s a good friend and all, but I could never fuck with her.”
“Well I don’t know about y’all, but I’m about to go smoke.” Kobe said grabbing Brandy leading her to the back porch.
Everyone was spready through the house leaving Travis, Erik, Jakeen and Omariana and (Y/N) in the kitchen.
“So Travis, you ready for the season.” KJ asked him, sipping out of one of the solo cups. Travis nodded.
“Yeah, finna make this year count. I heard some scouts are going to be at the games more often. I might be getting some contracts.” he said boldly.
“Damn, NFL? That’s what’s up.”
Erik chuckled. Half of the time this nigga was keeping a bench warm but okay.
“Something funny, Erik?” he asked him as Erik looked back at him smirking. “Nah, I’m just thinking of something.”
“How about y’all two?” Jakeen asked the girls changing the subject. Omariana shook her head.
“Competitions are going to have me beat. This break feels like it wasn’t enough.” (Y/N) chuckled hearing that.
“Ion know about her but I am.” (Y/N) said, “I’m just not ready for dancing in this hot ass heat.” she said, a little laughter being hared. Erik noticed she had a little southern accent.
“I like your accent, where you from?” he asked her.
“I’m from Memphis.” she said smiling back at him.
“Hmm, that explains it.” Erik said looking her up and down.
“Aye, (Y/N). Come outside with me real quick.” Travis spoke up. She looked up at him confusingly. Erik smirked to himself. Yeah, he knew he had the nigga shook.
“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” she said. She followed him outside, Erik waited till they were out the door before looking at Omariana. “Aye, Mari. What’s up with her? She gotta man?” he asked her as she talk to her.
”No but you ain’t finna talk to her. And what did I tell you about calling me that.” she said to him. Erik rolled his eyes.
“Damn I can’t even-”
“You damn right you can’t. You must have forgot, girl talk on the team. And there has been a lot of drama surrounding you.” she pointed at him as he kissed his teeth.
“Aye, there is something I wanted to show.” he said to her. She glared at Erik one more time before the two of them left. Now it was Ty and him in the kitchen. KJ looked at him before Erik starred back.
“The hell are you looking at?”
“Nigga I know what you’re doing. That’s fucked up.” he said, Erik rolled his eyes.
“No but what is fucked up is the nigga fucking my girlfriend.” Erik said in a matter of fact tone. “Plus, I actually wanna fuck with her. She’s cute and I know it’s gonna fuck with him.” he said shrugging his shoulders. To him, it was like killing two birds with one stone. He could get back at him and he can shoot his shot with a baddie. Win win.
Meanwhile outside, the two of them walked out to his jeep. “Everything good Travis?” she asked him as he nodded.
“Yeah, I needed some air. It was stuffy.” he answered. She nodded. She was confused though.
“I thought you and Erik were friends. Why y’all ain’t talked?”
He tensed up once he heard that, but slowly calmed down. “We fell out over the summer.” he mumbled looking down at his all white air forces, her tone softened.
“I’m sorry Travis. Is that why you ain’t wanna be in there?” she said as he looked up at the night sky.
“Apart of it.” he said. It looked as he didn’t want to talk about it so she just left it alone. After the two of them was in silence. She leaned up against his jeep with him. “I gotta question?” she looked up at him as he looked down at her.
“Why did you stop talking tome after you found out?” she asked him as he groaned. “I’m serious. I think I deserve an answer.”
“I felt like once you told me that, I couldn’t really look at you the same. It was like, she probably doesn’t wanna talk to me anymore but I just did it first.” he said.
“Ugh, I was so mad. I never intended to tell you. Like I was so mad that Aliyah went out her way just to say something. I hope we can get back from where we started. And I promise my little crush is gone.” she smiled at him. A little part of him was hurt to hear that but he didn’t let that show.
“You sure? Gotta make sure it’s all gone.” he joked, but he was a little serious. He was hoping that there was still a little bit of feelings left for him. Maybe she’d say,
“Well I still have some feelings for you.”
“Positive. I just want my friend back.” Is what she ended up saying. It hurt but maybe he could get her back.
“Bet.” he smiled as she smiled back.
“Travis!” They looked up and saw Aliyah walking over to where they were.
“And that’s my cue to leave.” she stood up right. She didn’t know that they knew each other like that, but assuming how Erik and Aliyah use they date, they could have known each other.
Aliyah walked up and (Y/N) was about to leave but she said,
“Damn no hey. No what’s up?” she asked (YN). (Y/N) looked at her one good time before saying hi and leaving to inside the house. She walked pass the kitchen straight to the backyard. Thankfully there was no one.
She heard the slide door open, turning around and seeing Erik standing there with two cups. He offered her one.
“No thanks, I don’t-” she stopped herself. “Actually, thanks.” she grabbed it out of his grasp. She took a sip of it wincing at burn it caused in her throat.
“I hope this isn’t your first drink.; he said as she nodded.
“It is. I told myself that this year I will learn how to manage my school and my social life.” she told him.
“Ight, I can drink to that.” hey did a cheer and drunk what they had.
“So what’s the deal between you and Travis?” he asked her. She shrugged her shoulders.
“Nothing, why you ask?” she asked him.
“Well you seemed a little close and I thought-”
“No, we are just close friends.” she said, he raised an eyebrow at her.
“So you’re not seeing anyone.” he asked her as she shook her head. “Hmm, lemme get your number.” she chuckled.
“I don’t think so.” she responded. That response caught him off guard. He was not use to girls turning him down.
“I know about you, you have gotten with some of my teammates. And there is a lot of drama surrounding you.” It almost felt like this was deja vu.
Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, beefy Ari, brief mentions of blood (during a fight with his opponent)
A/N: Written on my phone.
Ari stares down at his opponent, blood dripping down the side of his face, deep blue eyes wild and unfocused. His broad chest heaves as he cracks his neck, flexing his massive fists, draws back his arm to land another devastating punch.
The dull roar in his ears fades, one singular voice piercing through the haze.
“Levinson stop. Goddamn it, get off of him. Now!” Clint screams, ducking under the ropes to climb on the mat.
Ari blinks, wiping his face with the back of his hand. One glance down at Brock’s mangled nose and he grimaces.
“My bad,” he states with a shrug, placing a hand on his knee, he pushes himself to a standing position. Jumping on his heels, he stretches his arm over his head.
“Your bad,” Clint sputters, running his hand over hair. He sighs, his eyes darting between the unrepentant Ari and the groaning Brock. “Your-fuck it.” He sighs, clutching his fist to his forehead. “Good job Levinson. We got two days until your match so I need you to calm down enough to finish training. Get rid of some this excessive energy, okay? We’re running out of men willing to spar with you.”
“That’s not my-“ Ari closes his mouth, playfully raising his hands when Clint glares at him, muttering threats through gritted teeth. “I’m going, I’m going.”
Ari steps out of the ring, a devious smirk pulls at his lips. Oh, he knows exactly how to work off some of his energy. He hopes you stretched.
You’re on your way to bed when you get his text. Staring at the two blunt sentences, you can practically hear his deep timbre whispering them in your ear. Fuck. It’s visceral-the way your body just instantly reacts to the thought of him, needing him instantly. Especially since his upcoming match means you’re both deprived thanks to his no sex before a match rule.
It’s not fucking fair.
You have Ari in peak form, even bigger than usual from his hours at the gym, his tanned, tattooed muscles testing the strength of all his shirts, his large hands bruised and calloused dangling in front of your face like a five star dessert and he won’t let you touch him until after the fight. He’s been stomping around the house, full of pent up aggression and you want him to take all of it out on you.
The only things keeping you from spontaneously combusting or begging on your knees are the memories of the last time he got like this, the things he did to your body after he won-oh god you’ve never experienced so much pleasure in your life. You didn’t walk right for a week. He wasn’t joking when he said you were going to feel him inside you for days.
You look at the message again. Indecision and lust clouding your judgement. Tapping your foot on the carpet, your brow knit together as you study his words. Is this a test? Do you say yes because your pussy is saying fuck yes with every pulsating throb? Does he want you to say no so he can use it to get more worked up for the fight?
When the throb turns into a heartbeat between your thighs, you have no choice but to type out a quick “yes please.”
“Good, because I’m already here, Bunny,” his baritone voice washes over you, drowning out your startled squeak.
Before you can glance over your shoulder, everything becomes a blur. You’re pushed down on the bed, your hands sliding forward as he lifts your ass up. Your toes scrape the soft fibers of the carpet. Panties ripping off. Massive hands gripping your ass. And then his warm, wet, soft tongue delves between your folds while his rough beard grazes across your sensitive thighs.
And he licks one long strip from your dripping slit all the way to your clit. So fast it takes a second for the sensations to register. Then they hit you. Hard and fast. And you let out a low, needy moan that urges him on. Another long lick followed by a slow suck of your clit into his warm mouth. Two long fingers push inside you, curling to find the spot that has you keening as he lavishes your pussy with attention.
He’s unhinged. Feral. Primal.
Ari’s not eating you like your dessert, he’s fucking you like you’re the very air he needs to breathe.
“Shit Ari, oh god,” you pant, grasping the sheets in your fists, eyes rolling back.
You can’t close your mouth or stop the animalistic noises from spilling out, you definitely can’t escape from his talented, devoted tongue.
Ari has you pinned between him and your bed so you have no choice but to take every ounce of pleasure he’s giving you
Pressure builds inside you, the coil becoming tight and hot with every drag of his fingers across your spot, the fast flicks blend with soft kisses until you’re delirious. “Ohgodohgod,” you cry out, a scream clawing it’s way up your throat. “Ohmyfuckinggod Ari!”
You don’t recognize the noise you just made. He does. Ari grins into your pulsing, sweet little pussy and goes even faster, taking everything from you until you go taut, fine tremors wracking down your spine. Your orgasm whips through you, colorful stars explode behind your eyelids and pure bliss surges through your veins.
You’re still floating on your high when he picks you up and tosses you in the middle of the bed. “Damn, that was good. You feel better? Cause I do,” you say breathlessly.
Ari waits until your eyes open and he stares down at you, his blue eyes darkened with heady desire and he slowly lowers his large body between your thighs. He smirks even as he shakes his head. “I’m still really stressed, Bunny.” There’s a dangerous tinge to his softly spoken statement. “They gave me explicit instructions to get rid of all my stress before I can go back to the gym. And since I can’t fuck you the way I want, I’m going to have to eat you until I feel better.”
Oh.
Not taking his eyes off yours, Ari traces his name across your swollen clit, watching as your back arches off the bed. “I’ll let you know when I had enough. Now grab the headboard and hold on Bunny. I’m going to need a few more orgasms from this pretty little pussy.”
First of all, I’m sure Brock deserved it 😌 Second, to have beefy Ari as your man and not being allowed to have sex with him?! TORTURE. A very cruel one.
Also
Ari’s not eating you like your dessert, he’s fucking you like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. I may pass out but yes please and thank you. 😌
Aaand I’m horny from the very morning 😆 Thank you for writing this!! ❤️
series warnings ⤍ a/b/o dynamics, bullying, toxic relationship, eventual smut, dubcon, canon-typical violence, read each individual chapter warnings
series summary ⤍ you thought it couldn’t get any worse when your professor paired you with the boy who takes pride in seeing you suffer for a class project, but it seems the universe had an even deeper bond in mind when you discover peter parker to be much more than your partner for class. is this new connection you share with peter enough to overcome your long-standing hatred of each other?
note ⤍ not all chapters will contain smut but this story is still NSFW 18+ only
[DISCLAIMER] my work contains dark and triggering adult content. do not read if that makes you feel uncomfortable.
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
titsay
izzy806
kianamaiart
