Viridian

Just a 21 year old aspiring writer On the verge of a mental breakdown at all times🥲 Love reading smut Monster enthusiast Fanfic writer Barista babie And a Sagittarius 🤙🏻

[glowfast]

𓍼ོ♱⃓ ༘ Forgive me father~

masterlist

pairing: sam winchester x afab!reader

genre: PURE FILTH, MDNI, priest kink, p n v, roleplay, use of ‘father’

warnings: tiniest mention of religious trauma but it’s just one comment meant as a joke

You had survived demons, ghosts, and things that wore human skin. But you were not prepared for Sam Winchester in a priest’s outfit.

The black shirt fit him too well, tailored close through the chest, stretching just enough across his shoulders to make the fabric look like it was working overtime. The white tab of the collar was stark against his skin, a sharp, unforgiving line that drew your attention straight to his throat. To the place your eyes kept returning to no matter how hard you tried to behave.

It felt sacrilegious.

Which somehow made it worse.

You stood a next to Dean in the small town church, pretending to read a flyer while very deliberately not looking at him. Except you were looking. Constantly. Every time he shifted his weight, every time he leaned down to murmur something to Dean, every time he ran a hand through his hair and the sleeve of his jacket pulled tight around his forearm.

Your thoughts were not appropriate. Not even a little. The irony of it, of wanting him this badly while he looked like he belonged behind a pulpit made heat pool low in your stomach. You pressed your lips together, steadying yourself, silently begging your brain to calm down.

It did not.

Sam glanced over at you, concern flickering across his face. He smiled softly, the kind that always felt like it was meant just for you, and something in your chest tightened.

You had to look away. Dean noticed. Of course he did. He leaned closer, voice low and smug. “You okay there, or are we unlocking some repressed religious trauma?”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood “Shut up” you hissed, mortified. Dean smirked. “Just sayin’. Guy looks like he’s about to hear confessions and you look like you need one.” Sam straightened, clearly catching the edge of the conversation. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, cheeks warm. “Nothing at all.”

But Sam watched you for a second longer than necessary, something curious and heated sparking in his eyes. Like he knew exactly what effect he was having and didn’t hate it.

The case wrapped quickly after that. Blessedly. Mercifully. The vengeful spirit haunting the old chapel had been dealt with salt and iron, the air still thick with the acrid scent of burned sage as the three of you stepped out into the crisp evening. Dean clapped Sam on the back, already rambling about the nearest dive bar, but you lagged behind, your gaze snagging on the way Sam's collar caught the fading light. It was ridiculous how that simple piece of fabric twisted something deep inside you equal parts reverence and raw desire, the forbidden pull of defiling something so pure.

Back at the motel, Dean vanished into the night with a wink and a promise to "give you lovebirds some space." The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with Sam in the dimly lit room. The bed sagged under your weight as you sat, peeling off your jacket, but your mind was elsewhere replaying the image of him in that church, voice steady as he recited a false prayer, hands steady on the holy water. The collar encircled his neck, a symbol of authority that made your pulse race.

Sam didn't move to remove it. Instead, he shrugged out of his jacket, letting it drape over the chair, the black shirt clinging to his broad frame. He caught your stare in the mirror across the room, a slow smile curving his lips. “You've been staring all day,” he said, voice low and measured, like he was delivering a sermon. He turned to face you, leaning against the dresser, arms crossed. The white tab gleamed under the lamp, drawing your eyes inexorably downward. “Kneel, if you want to confess.”

Your breath caught, heat flooding your cheeks and lower. the command in his tone sent a shiver through you. You slid off the bed, knees meeting the worn carpet, looking up at him through your lashes. The position felt vulnerable, worshipful, your curves accentuated as you arched slightly, waiting.

Sam's eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide. He stepped closer, towering over you, one hand reaching down to tilt your chin up with firm fingers. his thumb tracing your lower lip. “Tell me your sins” he demanded, voice dropping to a husky whisper that belied the priestly facade. “Every filthy thought you had about me in that church. Confess, and maybe I'll absolve you.”

The words spilled out in a rush, your voice trembling with arousal. “I imagined you bending me over the altar... your fingers inside me while you whispered prayers. I wanted to corrupt you, Father, suck your cock right there, make you break your vows.”

A low groan escaped him, his free hand adjusting the growing bulge in his pants. “Such blasphemy” he murmured, but there was no reprimand, only hunger. He guided you up by the arm, gentle but insistent, until you stood before him. His fingers worked at your shirt, peeling it away to reveal the lace of your bra, thumbs brushing the swell of your breasts. “For your penance, you'll worship me first.”

You nodded eagerly, hands trembling as you unbuckled his belt, the sound loud in the quiet room. His pants fell, and you sank back to your knees, the collar at eye level as you freed his thick cock hard, veined, tip glistening. It bobbed free, and you leaned in, lips parting to take him in, tongue swirling around the head. Sam hissed, fingers threading through your hair, guiding you deeper. “That's it... show me your devotion.”

You sucked him slowly, hollowing your cheeks, the salty taste of precum coating your tongue. His hips rocked gently, fucking your mouth with controlled thrusts, the white tab bobbing with each movement a profane sight that made your core ache. One hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your jeans, and you moaned around him, the vibration drawing a curse from his lips.

“Enough” he rasped after a few minutes, pulling you off with a wet pop. He hauled you to your feet, spinning you toward the bed and bending you over it, hands shoving your jeans and panties down in one swift motion. Cool air kissed your exposed pussy, slick and ready, but Sam didn't rush. He pressed against your back, the fabric of his shirt rough against your skin, collar grazing your shoulder as he whispered in your ear. “Beg for forgiveness, sinner.”

“Please, Father” you whimpered, pushing back against him. “Fuck me... absolve me with your cock.”

He chuckled darkly, the head of his dick teasing your entrance, sliding through your folds. Then he thrust in deep, filling you completely, your walls clenching around his girth. You cried out, fingers gripping the sheets, as he set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping against your ass. The outfit stayed on, shirt half unbuttoned to expose his chest, but the collar remained, a constant reminder as it pressed into your back with each drive.

His hands roamed one cupping your breast, pinching the nipple until it hardened, the other circling your clit in firm strokes. “You feel like heaven” he growled, pace quickening, the slap of skin echoing. Sweat beaded on your bodies, your soft form yielding to his strength, every thrust hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes.

The coil tightened, and you shattered, pussy pulsing around him, juices soaking his cock as you came with a sob. Sam didn't stop, pounding through your orgasm until his own hit burying deep, spilling hot cum inside you with a guttural moan. He finally tugged the collar free then, collapsing beside you, pulling your trembling body into his arms.

The motel room smelled of sex and faded incense from the church, a perfect blend of sin and salvation. Sam pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring, “Forgiven?”

You smiled, tracing the faint red line where the collar had been. “Always.”

[rip2mycarradio]

WET DREAMZ

pathetic sammy wet dream boo. surprise! warnings: doggy, praise from sam, size kink, finger stuff, idk fluff at the end. i love him. also tjis is straight up porn. this is a surprise for @sweeterthancandy i love you !!

༺☆༻

after a long day of smoke-thick motels, coffee that tasted like burnt air, and another grave dug somewhere off the highway, sam winchester didn’t know how he found himself here.

“you’re—fuck, being too loud, baby,” he murmured, voice soft against your ear. even with your face muffled in the pillow, the sounds you were making were way too loud for him to brush off as just him taking care of a hangover. if the people outside the motel paid enough attention, they would know exactly what was happening in here. “gotta… gotta keep it down a little.”

“m—m’trying,” you slurred into the pillow again, clamping your teeth into the fabric of the pillow, trying to bite back a soft cry at the sensation of him sitting idle inside you. he was stretching you out, due to his big size of 8 inches, and for a girl who was shorter than 6’4 and wasn’t 200 pounds of pure muscle? that was a lot to take.

sam’s hand came down to gently trace the arch of your back, pushing you further into the mattress for a better angle. “s’gotta be really... really hard for you,” he was blabbering now, still rocking into you. he was trying desperately not to let out any sounds of his own, which was very difficult when you were being so, good for him. “doing so... so good, baby.” he reminded.

slowly, his fingers that were curled around your hips tightened to an almost bruising grip, and he pushed himself—all eight inches inside. the sensation had you seeing stars, a loud gasp leaving your throat, eyes squeezing shut.

one of sam’s big hands quickly came to cover your mouth, desperate to keep you quiet now. his hips leaned back then thrusted forward, burying himself completely inside you as a soft, strained gasp left him. his fingers pressed against your lips, trying to contain the sounds that you tried to let out. “you... you’re gonna wake up the whole—fuck.” sam’s fingers pressed down more firmly, keeping you silent as he continued to move inside your tight heat.

“you gotta be... be so quiet,” he slurred, letting out a low groan at the feeling of you clenching around him. he started to speed up, just barely, still trying to keep you from being completely loud. you gasped as he sped up, biting his finger gently to keep yourself quiet—a sharp whine leaving him at the sensation.

“such a … fuck.. a good girl,” sam whispered, his fingers loosening a bit as your whimpers got higher. his hands moved to grab your ass, holding you to him as he began to thrust harder into you. his voice was becoming more strained. “takin’ it so well, yeah, that’s right, that’s—“

sam woke with a sharp hiss at the sound of your voice, startled out of an uneasy sleep that clung to him like sweat. his eyes fluttered open, unfocused and squinting against the dim motel light, and when he realized where he was—and that you were standing right there—he groaned softly and turned his face away, suddenly very invested in the peeling wallpaper beside the bed.

his fingers moved automatically to his chin, brushing over the tacky warmth that confirmed his embarrassment. a thin trail of drool. perfect.

“ugh, god,” he muttered, swiping it off quickly with the sleeve of his flannel. “i—I wasn’t even that tired.”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “you were snoring.”

“was not,” he mumbled, still avoiding your eyes.

“you drooled, sam.”

“yeah, okay, i might’ve drooled,” he admitted, cheeks already starting to turn a light, bashful pink. “don’t act like it’s a crime.”

“it’s not,” you teased, fighting a grin. “it’s just gross. and weirdly… vulnerable of you.”

“glad to know my most humiliating moment brings you joy.”

he finally risked a glance at you, only to find you staring with that irritating mix of amusement and affection that made him want to both roll his eyes and hide under the covers.

“you were mumbling in your sleep, too,” you added. “sounded like a mix between an insane injury and a porno.”

sam groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “please stop talking.”

“what were you dreaming about?”

“you. shutting up,” he deadpanned.

you’d never know.

[tteokdoroki]

I LOVE YOUR YUJI WORKS and i see u love yuji sm sm sm and i’m here to share a little earworm cuz it’s got me in a chokehold

yuji in boxers… like…. those tight boxers that don’t do anything to hide his outline……

AAUFHFHFHF FAT COCK YUJI

✩꒱ tighty whities — ft. yuuji itadori .ᐟ

🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ characters are adults. yuuji itadori & fem!reader. handjobs, big dick yuuji, counting the inches, roommates to lovers -> every once in a while yuuji pulls out his tightest, teeniest pair of underwear and every once in a while you’re curious enough to see what they’re hiding.

thank you sm friend! i love him so much i want to live between his heart and lungs sooo bad idk what this is im feeling Lustful.

yes yes yuuji in those sickening tight white undies. i feel like perhaps he bought them by mistake and only wears them when he’s out of his usual boxers. super tight, hugging the slender curve of his waist and perfectly outlining his girth even though it’s tucked away. you can clearly see whenever he leaks through them because the thin white fabric stretched over the meatiest parts of him barely conceals anything. a darkness patch at the seam always gives yuuji away.

he’d be kind of embarrassed about them, constantly adjusting himself around you, shifting because his balls are practically bursting through the threads. if you’re roommates or best friends, you’ve definitely seen them in the wash or the laundry you do together and he always snatches them up with blatantly obvious red cheeks because they’re stupidly small for him.

and for a while, you think that yuuji really is that small.

until you hear the way his short-term flings cry his name in bed like it’s the only prayer they know. until you start listening out for the quiet, whimpering praise he offers them when they take all of him so well, inch by inch like good girls.

one girl stops you by the fridge one morning, yuuji’s shirt clinging to her curves and covering the fingerpad shaped bruises on her hips. “i don’t know how you live with him without jumping his bones,” she’d giggled, reaching for your milk. “he’s got the whole package, you know?”

you start looking at itadori a little differently. your eyes fall from his face to his print when you greet him after work or in the mornings when he’s back from the gym — attempting to discern the type of underwear he’s wearing based on what shows through his sweats. and you’ve always been touchy with each other, you’re friends and he’s great for cuddles, but now when you’re relegated to his lap during movie nights with fushiguro and his girlfriend, todo and nobara, oh! and maki and yuuta — you can feel the difference in his girth pressed against every time he shifts.

when he’s got those little tight boxers on that struggle to contain his hard on. the one you both ignore.

it’s one of those same movie nights where you cross boundaries for the first time. nobara stays over, too drunk to go home and be on her own, so you offer up your room and hunker down with yuuji because todo’s got the couch this time. in the mix, you some how manage to convince your pink haired roommate that you sleep better when he’s around. not just because he sleeps naked, you know this — you’ve been waiting on it just to see if the rumours are true.

yuuji scratches the back of his neck sheepishly with a soft blooming blush as you undress for bed and you try not to be obvious when your eyes trace the hardlines of his body right down to his crotch. those stupid tight white boxers you can’t seem to ignore now.

“sorry, know it’s a lot.” because you keep staring and he keeps twitching underneath the fabric and you have no idea how to tell him he’s making your mouth water. “i can put some sweats on—?”

you’re all too eager when shake your head no. “i-it’s your room. sleep however you’re most comfortable!”

naturally you end up snuggled with itadori in bed. surrounded by him. an excuse to be close. yuuji in nothing but those evil little boxers and you in morning but his shirt. your face in his neck for safety from the horror movie you’re watching and his arm loose around your waist. and you really can’t help it, when his cock is sitting there all fat and heavy and weepy, kicking because the air in the room is against his feverish skin — your fingers dance down to the waist band playfully at first. you’re touchy. friends do this… but then they hit the sinful swirl of his pink happy trail and everything shifts.

lust starts to bubble within your eyes, usually so sweet and innocent. you just have to know if he feels as big as he looks in them.

yuuji exhales shakily. not looking at you. “you’re not watching the movie, are you?”

a hint. a chance. you take it. “can i touch it?” your ask is a breathless whisper — as light as summer’s breeze and barely there. like a figure in the night. touch him, rub on him, do everything you’ve been thinking about for months.

he’s already straining, clenched at the abdomen to keep himself from cumming from the friction against his inner seam. yet he grows under your inquisitive attention, throbbing in a dull rhythm that calls up your greed as though it were following the beating lull of a siren’s song.

yuuji’s cheeks glow warm in the dimness, a rose tinted flame in the dark. he swallows. “if you wanna… j-just be careful, yeah?”

that’s all it takes.

his head tips back in a filthy shameful moan — pink hair askew like the flutter of petals — and his throat bobs as he swallows down a flurry of curse words once your hand slips past the waistband. your grip curiously stretches the tightness of boxers as your tiny hand wraps around his fat girth. sticky, pulsing with arousal, prominent veins forming indents in your palm.

“you feel so big, yuuji,” your nose brushes his pulse point with the same gentleness you would with your lips for a kiss. it’s as if you’re trying to inhale his life force, tuck yourself impossibly closer. he feels swollen in your hand, cock beating as unsteadily as his heart, and he oozes premature white into the crevices of your finger prints. “sensitive too.”

“nngh, i know,” whilst itadori’s hips jump without his control and forces his length through your first, the weight of his crown drops to yours. the two of you share a view, your slippery hand in his near-see-through boxers doused with slick and precum beading from his sappy mushroomed tip. “s-sorry, fuck. ‘m just so hard and you’re so pretty and you smell so good.” he admits to you quietly in a high pitched whine, like a secret exchanged between two lovers at a rendezvous point. for your ears only. no one else gets to know how wrecked you have him.

the bulbous head of his cock is raw and red, shiny, as it peaks out from the elasticated band of his boxers — only because you’ve stroked him to full hardness. he no longer fits in the fabric. you thumb him there in comforting circles, spreading his arousal in the same manner that drool spreads across your tongue.

long, dark lashes flutter against your forehead like angel’s kisses and you squeeze around every inch that slides through your hold — sharing airy moans the more yuuji leaks against your tight knuckles. “you could make me cum like this, y-y’know? in my boxers like a — fuck — like a teenager,” yuuji stutters, chasing words that don’t make sense on his tongue. hips running after the solace your soft strokes. “makes me feel so filthy, but i’ve been waiting for you. t-to notice? how badly i’ve wanted it to be you touching me like this. i’d do anything for you. anything, baby girl.”

his honesty turns and twists your guts into feverish knots.

“then will you?” you purr artlessly. eyes on the string of drooly white leaking from his sensitive tip. “wanna see how much you cum too.”

“god yes, i can cum. i’ll cum for you. just —!” yuuji’s large hand slips around your wrist and he guides you. helps you tug on the parts of his dick that make him gargle and struggle for breath. he bucks upwards, chasing pleasure and the heavenly solace your fist has to offer. “that’s it, just like that. make me cum, been waiting for so long.”

you’re in awe of it all. the ripple of his abs as he thrusts, the way moans coil in between the letters of your name as they leave his lips. you touch yuuji like you were made for it, jerk him off as though it were instinct. squeezing him every time his hips draw back, circling his tip over and over in languid runs of your thumb around the world.

he takes that as a sign, permission to let go of the unravelling knot he’s been trying to hold together since first laying beside you. on instinct, like his body knows nothing else, he squeezes you tight against him — cheek smooshed against your crown, shaky loud and whimpers in your ear that have your own underwear damp and he snaps.

like a twig with little resistance to pressure.

“oh my god — baby, shit!”

yuuji’s release is sizeable, viscous like lava flow as it rockets hotly up his abdomen and pools amongst the ridges of his abs and belly button. white against gold. his underwear is positively soiled all the way through, crude stringy cum gathering amongst his balls and your wriggling fingers as you jerk him through his high. where his back bows towards the ceiling as though the heavens have come to collect his sweet soul and his thighs shake like his foundations are unsteady.

and even after all that, all the ropes of hot white that hit his skin — he’s still hard and swollen, monstrous in size that suddenly dawns on you as yuuji rolls you onto your back. landing on top.

his shoulders, as they heave, block out the glow of the movie playing behind him — crowding you against the pillows, acting as a shield to hide you away from the world and you feel him heavy against your tummy. cold with slick but heated with arousal at the same time.

your roommate grins, buzzing and slow. “how many inches is the biggest dick you’ve ever taken?”

“i don’t… know? i’ve never measured?” you squeak, suddenly flushed with a delicious mix of horniness and fear. “why?”

yuuji clicks his tongue then, big hand sliding up your face to cover your mouth — his free one guiding his erection between your now parted thighs.

“just wondering, how much of me you’ll be able to take tonight.”

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-26. all fanfics & layouts belong to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

[spideyyeet]

NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER — T.F.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and you keep clicking the shutter button—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

gojo clears his throat.

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

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

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

oh right, gojo rubs his neck in disappointment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“can you get my good side next time—“

“why did you—“

“can you—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“cut it out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ten more laps!”

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

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

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

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

coach toji doesn’t move.

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

then he looks over his shoulder.

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

your heart stutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were gone.

s-s-s-sweetheart!?

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

and he finds it adorable.

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

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

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

“I’ll try an’ wink next time.”

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

“she’s too young for ya, coach!”

“get someone y’er own age!”

“coach, the shy ones are the freakiest!”

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

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

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

fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

well fuck me.

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

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

you nod, enthusiastically.

god, you were a cutie.

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

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

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

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

“can I try takin’ a pic?”

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

“good?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a model?!

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

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

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

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

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

he’s definitely checking you out.

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

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

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

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

“oh.”

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

“did ya’ submit these too, sweetheart?”

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

this can’t be happening!

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

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

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

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

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

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

your eyes are wide, glancing at your camera.

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

he snorts, head tilting, “you swear?”

you nod frantically.

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

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

“no, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’ve gotten some photos man—“

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

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

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

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

“don’t call me that.”

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

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

“let me fucking finish will you—“

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

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

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

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

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

that also means you can see….coach toji.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the fuck are you guys doing?”

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

“coach always showers before or after our games.”

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

—

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

so this isn’t new territory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

coach toji, in a suit.

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

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

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

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

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

“photographers only, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“coach with sukuna,” the manager says.

toji steps forward.

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

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

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

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

why does he keep doing that?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“right, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how wet are you right now?”

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

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

gojo blushes, “I love mean girls.”

you roll your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

not just on the field…but off it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no locker room access.”

your jaw tightens immediately irritation flaring hot and sharp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s almost satisfying. almost.

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

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

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

“what’re you talking about?”

“deal’s off.”

huh?!????

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

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

they do care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it doesn’t matter…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“agreed.”

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

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

“I know…”

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

“I know…”

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you don’t want to make eye contact.

“how?!!”

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

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

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

shoko is getting second hand embarrassment, “dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you didn’t win,” you shrug, cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey—“

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

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

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

“it literally does though!”

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

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

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

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

“is this your first time being threatened—“

“the fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

geto scowls, rubbing his back in pain.

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

“she was shouting at me!”

“so what!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i told security not to allow any outsiders.”

your heart drops.

“including you.”

oh shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“don’t be upset.”

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

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

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

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

he does.

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

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

“we can talk.”

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

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

pull yourself together…

you nod. cute.

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

“sure.”

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

“what…”

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

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

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

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

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

“hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

“WHAT?!”

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

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

“cute?” geto frowns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I feel bad.”

your heart stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

what?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ding.

your eyes widen as toji pays instead.

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

“as if I’d let you pay,” he snorts.

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

“how come?”

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

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

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

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

“….next time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your eyes go wide. stomach flipping.

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

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

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

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

his words cut the minute your lips press against his.

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

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

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

you do.

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

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

then, his lips part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

“ten.”

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

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

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

“I’m an easy target.”

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

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

“three older brothers,” you nod.

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

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

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

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

you nod.

“I’ll see ya’ sweetheart.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your lips purse, brow quirking. “yeah…”

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

“they still bothering you?”

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

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

you smile, “okay.”

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

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

“I’ll c’ya after.” he winks.

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

toji….toji toji toji—

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

you snap a shot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his eyes narrow again, “no.”

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

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

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

a single curtain is closed. shower running.

“coach toji?” your voice echos.

there a beat of silence, then…

“that you, sweetheart?”

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

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

“sweetheart?”

you jump. “yeah?”

“you gonna come in?”

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

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

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

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

what’re you doing, seriously?

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

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

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

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

you’re so close.

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

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

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

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

“hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his hand nudges your thigh. “jump.”

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

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

“because I kept ya out during halftime.”

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

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

“that one time.”

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

this time you kiss me.

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

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

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

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

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

it really is too much for your obsessed brain.

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

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

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

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

“you want a good fucking princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t!”

he snorts. “it’s okay if you do.”

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

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

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

so he’s all in right now.

“deep breath, sweetheart.”

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

“shit!—“

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

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

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

“angh!—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were fucked dumb.

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

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

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

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

anothet sharp spank takes your breath away.

toji is at a loss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

toji blinks.

then he does the worst thing ever.

he laughs.

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

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

god, you’re fucking hot.

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

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

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

“so you just wanted pictures of my dick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but then toji smirks. “ecstatic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

your face burns hotter. weeks?!

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

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

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

“like what?”

“like you know things.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that was the start of all of it.

three months later….

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

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

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

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

“toji!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was clear as day.

you’re his.

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

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

[tteokdoroki]

izu should be eating u to sleep smh

✩꒱ midnight snack — ft. izuku midoriya .ᐟ

🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ pro hero izuku midoriya & fem!reader. oral sex, somnophilia, established relationship, dom and sub dynamics, care taker izuku. -> izuku implements a seven step nightly routine that always ends with the taste of you on his tongue.

nightly routine with izuku includes a shower together where he scrubs you clean n puts a hand between your legs ton wash you up but he doesn’t touch you and pretends … pretends not to notice the way your thighs quiver around his wrist or how you reach back to curl your fingers in his hair for stability. sudsy kisses pressed on your shoulders and soapy digits splayed against your tummy to keep you still. “gotta make sure you’re squeaky clean, hm baby?”

then he oils and moisturises you up before bed, he’s already picked out your PJs — something that smells like baby detergent, clean and lacy and barely there and you know what the fabric means and he just pretends that they’re ordinary jammies. big scarred hands working through the knots in your body, squeezing and tugging on your thighs and the fat at your hips and thumbs pressing into your nipples and even still — izuku will smile as though nothing is happening, nothing is going to happen. playing with you, toying with his sweet baby who grows sleepier by the second.

you’re already drifting by the time izuku pulls away from your embrace, an iron grip not quite iron when he’s so easily able to break free. he’s over you, a finger to his lips making a shhhh sound when you whine because he’s not going anywhere, not really, shimmying his way down your torso — tongue circling your belly button, hot kisses against your warm flesh. “sleepy time, baby, don’t make a fuss,” he hums, because you will attempt to kick your feet and bring izuku back up for cuddles. “hands to yourself please.”

so you sling your arms over your sleepy face and let him draw your knees up to a bend, his teeth already grazing at your swollen clit from over your sweet little boy shorts. pulse erratic just like your heartbeat which is no where near calm enough to sleep. “miss you, come back.”

“don’t be a silly girl, ‘m right here,” deku’s voice pinches and peaks with condescension. the sound rumbles through your syrupy, tortured cunt — clenching around nothing, self-lubricating as she lies in wait for your boyfriend’s fingers or tongue. you’ve been waiting all day to be touched properly, the teasing and the taunting putting you on the edge where you toe the line between heaven and hell. “relax for me, let’s go to sleep — yeah?”

slick glues the seam of your shorts to your aching, vacant hole as izuku carefully peels them away, tucking one leg behind your pudgy pussy lips. clear and stringy between your folds — tantalisingly good enough to eat, and while the position of your clothing is awkward and uncomfortable, it’s irritation is minuscule in size when compared to that first stroke of his tongue against you. curling at your clit, knocking the little nub from side to side. slurping sounds slip between moans of gluttony, that mimics that of a man sheathing himself inside his partner raw for the first time.

jaded eyes sparked with a mischievous or borderline evil emerald peek from over your stomach, rising and falling with heavy breathing that only comes with someone losing consciousness to sleep. “lift your hips, c’mon pup,” he coos, slack jaw, words breathy whilst he tongues at your quivering entrance — carefully thrusting along your silken walls. you slowly begin to obey, rocking upwards and bowing into his eager open mouth. “look at that, there we go. you listen so well.”

your body does. only to him. as soon as you’re up, nimble fingers slide up to the base of your spine and hold you in place — against the mouth that works on you until you’re drenched and dripping down his chin. the flex of his jaw, as he drinks you down as though you’re aged whisky. rare. a treat undeserved by a mere man such as himself.

“baby, tell me about your day.” izuku drawls like a man lost without water for days, pausing for air, lapping at the wet inner crease of your thigh where spit and arousal marry to become one.

he latches onto you, while you find mental strength to mumble about your day plans. sucks a swollen fold between perfect white teeth, sending blood flow straight down south. “was good — mmnph — got my nails done ‘n went shoppin’…” the hero keeps you talking until you’re hazy, heated and half a second away from sinking into sleep. blinking away the blur that fades the edges of your vision, pleasure melding with exhaustion — you meet eyes and they’re already on you as though he hasn’t given a thought to look away from your parted lips and bobbing throat. just as you open your mouth to continue, his tongue laps at your candied cunt and squirms into you, pressing against the gushy, gummy spot nestled deep within. “oh, oooh! got somethin’ new for you.”

and you’re so sweet, god you are. in taste and in physical form. izuku gets the kind joy from you as a kid would at a candy store — static straight to his brain when you whimper into night’s humid blanket and squeeze your thighs around his head. arousal seeping through your sleep shorts to fuel him on as you pour your chalice straight into his mouth.

“for me? god, ‘m a lucky guy. aren’t i? can’t wait to see it…” he chuckles, almost humbly. words nestled against your soaked slit like a promise of other worldly ecstasy. a whisper in the wind, a heart shaped signature against your clit. “i think i want you to cum now, angel. nice and hard, let your body unwind. give me all you can.”

you listen again, every fibre and nerve ending in your body following izuku’s command like a dog who’s well trained and knows her tricks off by heart. at this point, you’ve barely any strength or will to stay awake. the stars align and moon flashes bright behind your drawn curtains — you cum against greedy lips and a tongue that smooths over your sluice sex like a salve, blacking out and falling victim to the soothing voice of sleep.

“lights out, baby,” izuku coos through the after shocks, all in a days work for his pretty baby.

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-26. all fanfics & layouts belong to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

[tonycries]

ROCK YOUR BODY!

Synopsis. First time he learns about a matíng press = first time he loses his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, matíng presses, PÚSSYDRÚNK men, manhandIing, stopping you from running, p talking, spítting, chokíng, new positions, true form Sukuna, DP, tummy buIges, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, they’re FÉRAL, marathons, ínappropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, creampíes, cúmplay, mentions of kids, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. C’mon c’mon rock that body-

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - DlLF Tactics

“T-Toji—” 

You’re sobbing out brokenly- and what does your boyfriend do? He’s merely leaning his beefy body over to lick up the salty wetness of your tears, groaning. “I know.” Tone guttural. “I know, mama.” Gone.

You were no match for him - and he was no match for this damn new position Shiu had just-so-happened to mention today. He’d laughed at the man then, something about a mating…oh.

Toji wasn’t laughing now. 

One of his calloused hands claw down your front, “You’re-” And all it takes is one push for your poor core to pour out wads of his seed, gushing ivory syrup straight down to Toji’s hilt. “-reeeeeal full, aren’tcha, doll?” 

And your thighs stick uselessly to his shoulders, where he’d thrown them over hours ago and kept them there. Where you thought he’d get over this little obsession after one round. Maybe two. Maybe three- 

Toji grins, “But you’re gonna take it for me one more time, mhm?”

Before you can even think to shrill out an answer, Toji’s squeezing his thick, reddened tip allllll the way near the back of your slick-covered walls. Just so big that you can feel the globed end of his shaft probe into your cervix, “Fuh-fuck! Again, Toji?”

“Blame the- the…” He’s strangling out a dark chuckle, scarred lips curling. And oh- to have the Toji Fushiguro stuttering? 

You had him ruined. 

“The mating press?” You’re mewling in answer. 

Only to have his entire sculptured body wrack with a visceral shiver- Toji’s hunching his weight on top of yours until you’re being crushed, until your hamstrings scream, until he’s biting his canines down on the side of your neck just to stop himself from whimpering. “Fucking love it when you s-say that, mama.”

One of his roaming hands nestles on the top of your sweaty scalp, and he grumbles, “Yeah a mating press.” Caging you in. Making you feel every tense n’ twitch of his glissading abs. “A fucking mating press. It makes me wanna fill this hah- pretty pussy with my cum up just ooooonce more.” The other still glues to your tummy, feeling for the bumpy outline of his thrusting cock. “Makes me wanna make ‘er leak.”

“B-but I’m already so full.” You’re whining out through wobbly lips, and you swear that his bulbous mushroom tip only grows fatter at the state of your voice. 

“Mmm—” You knew that lil’ hint of greed in his tone didn’t bode well. You knew that it would have his right hand pushin’ down on your stomach until he’s making his knotted white cum leak out of your pussy like a fountain. Sheening the inner parts of your cute thighs and soaking his happy trail - you just feel so filthy. “H-heh, not anymore…”

“Ngh, oh- oh my god.”

And his strokes are vulgar, like he’s knocking that weepy orifice of his against every sweet spot of yours just to fill you back up again. You were so sensitive after all these hours that only a few whack-whack-whacks of Toji’s long, vein-covered cock makes you drool.

A slimy line of pre glues right near your g-spot and makes him giggle at the mess. “C’moooon, mama, stop makin’ such a oh- mess.” Ruthless, Toji’s thumb snakes down from your temple to push between your swollen lips. “M’just trying to make sure that this…mating press really works, heh.”

Just saying those words makes his ravenous cock throb even harder - what have you done to him?

“B-but I think it already works, Toji—” Case in point; each heavy, sensual pump of his inches only makes your walls splosh ‘round with both cum and slick. Utterly full. Utterly ruined. 

“That’s cute.” He simply states, hazy green eyes on the verge of rolling. Toji plants a ruthless smack on the side of your left thigh, “Now hold up those legs f’me, doll.”

As if you could be bent even further- but Toji Fushiguro finds a way. He always finds a way. Even if his rough, knobbly fingertips are trembling as he’s gripping each underside of your legs. 

Overstimulated, Toji’s veiny biceps flex once he’s folding you straight in half with the curves of your knees hitting your tits. Your face pushing into the crook of his neck, his cock stirrin’ up your insides.

Chanting out like mantra—“Up, up, up, aaaand up-”

Jostling you around like some glorified doll, you’re sure that the globes of your ass don’t even touch the bedsheets at this point. He’s just so big that you can barely even clench - the bubblegummy texture of your walls was damn near rubbed raw on each of his prominent veins. Drilling inside over and over and over-

“Cute—soooo fuckin’ cute how she talks back.” As if to prove his point even further, Toji thumbs down your slivery slit and lets off a noisy slurp. Huffing with primal desire, “Gonna be e-even cuter when I fuck her stupid, though. When I feel- my-” Punctuating each word with a bashing strike into your depths, the flared ridge of his cockhead kisses your g-spot and you bawl. “-doll’s cervix get hit alllll the way from the back.”

Your head throws back with a pitched trill, “T-Tooooji–! Don’t talk like that…”

“Why? Feeling shy, mama?” He’s snickering, “How can you even think of feeling- fuck! shy when I have you like this? In this…this…” 

Mating press…fuck, he couldn’t even say those two words anymore. Trailing off. Eyes glazed. 

He’s jackhammerin’ the prolonged inches of his girth into you like it was the only thing he knew how to do at this point, and Toji’s tough fingerpads wield down on your pussy with a solid spank. “D’you even know what you’re doing to me?” Then he’s spanking your treacly cunt three more repeated times like it’s her fault.

“I- ngh, oh-” All that you can babble by now, your pupils are swirling in comical circles inside the whites of your eyes. 

Each one follows the crazed patterns of his crashing cocktip, bashing in the sponged layer of your cervix. Toji’s deltoids bulge as he bullies your body down just a bit further, and lets his rovering cock smooch the door to your womb—thud!

Fuck. 

Instantly throwing his hazy head back, murmuring something intelligible underneath his breath-

“Wh-what was that–?” You’re panting, eyelids fluttering as you try to steady your vision. Toji was just so pussydrunk that he could barely string together his slurring syllables, he could barely even stop the sloppy slamming of his hips to speak-

“I-I said–” Toji drawls out, and he’s bent so low in this mating press - his all-knew favorite position - that he can kiss your forehead sweetly. Whispering in your ear, “-that Shiu’s gonna be the fucking godfather after this.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Shibuya “Incident”

“Legs here and…your pretty pussy- hah- here-” Rattling off, it was almost sexily methodical the way that he was moving your shaky limbs ‘round with no strain at all. “And I’m…”

A mating press.

Nanami Kento had you pressed into a mating press- and the only thing you can do is arch your back upwards into his dewy touch- he’s just so messy like this. Glasses crushed against your body, blond hair falling over his forehead. Your husband hunches his hulking body into you so that he could suckle on your tits like his favorite candy. “Wh-why the sudden mating- ngh, press, Ken?”

“Because, please-” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging into the skin of your chest, clammy mouth gluing to the nubs of your nipples. “Please- we hafta make sure, my love.”

You’re whimpering, “F-fuck! Make sure of what–?”

And his response is muffled, pearly whites snagged on your areolas, “Have to make sure it takes.”

“Oh.”

Truthfully, Nanami had been restless. Ever since he’d come back from Shibuya all bruised n’ battered, he’d simply bent you into your marital bed and folded your legs in half like he hadn’t even realized what he was doing just yet. 

Like he couldn’t think of anything to say but a low, growling—“C-can’t even control it, sweetheart.” His handsome cheekbones blush all crimson, “Somehow I just want to get you…” Hesitating. Rugged. “-pregnant.”

Oh, he’d been struck with some sort of babyfever.

Still in the half-opened uniform of his suit, he was taken over by some sort of madness that made you trill at the top of your lungs every single time Nanami’s rovering cockhead bludgeoned against the back of your pussy. He might have been gentle, but his aching, red length surely wasn’t.

“Oh- fuck-” You’re sobbing out, legs twitching on top of his shoulders with each passing second. “Th-that explains the hck! mating press-”

“Mating press, huh?” Long, golden lashes blink up blearily at you, he was still tuggin’ on your cute nipples until the skin of your chest was all sensitive. A slight brush of his textured taste buds make you buck- and he’s only pressing a forearm to your throat. “S-so that’s what s’called.”

Naturally, Nanami was leaning his entire carnal weight on top of you until you were manhandled like some lawnchair. 

Until your feet were dangling in the air and he was pushing you into a mating press so sloppy that you’re hearing your dripping cunt squelch from below. Slurp after slurp. The reddened, globular crown of his tip nudged against your cervix and made you sob. “Like this-” Extra tight, his vein-decorated hands lace on top of your scalp. “Like this like this. Fuck! A mating press…s’like this?”

“Y-yes, ngh- oh my god-” You didn’t have enough brain capacity right now to tell him that this was more than just your average mating press. 

This pliable position had his hips spanking down on yours until the skin of Nanami’s pelvis turned red. 

He’s snapping his head down with a slight gasp at the slamming impact, molten eyes widening and widening. “O-oh.” Hard, the lines of his v-line thrash down once more. Probin’ his sultry wet tip so deep between your pussylips that you swear you can feel him enter your very lungs. “Oh, m’in love with this position. In love with how deep it makes you take me- how f-fucking tight you squeeze each time.”

Then it’s like he was insatiable - getting such a gooood look at the way your puffy folds expanded with each inch you swallowed, the way your pussy glistened with each spurt of slick, the way you quivered like you wanted more, more, more-

“Y-you’re in so deep- hck!” You can’t help but wrap your fingers into the silken fabric of your husband’s tie and tug-

And that makes him gasp, it makes him pant. Nanami’s slimy tip wallops the roof of your cunt and twitches—“Yes—!” He keens, guttural and raw. “Like that- roughen me up like that, darlin’.”

You’re gaping- because you’ve never heard your beloved husband speak to you like this before. 

He was at the mercy of your pussy.

It’s as if this all-new, lecherous position had loosened his stern mouth, and now it was slick with slobber that gushed every single time your cervix was being bruised by his impressive circumference. A thin line slips from the side of his lips that he smears between the valley of your chest.

“S’gonna take-” He hiccups, pumping you oh-so-full that your ears pop. “Gonna take gonna take gonna take- fuck! Gonna be a-all round and glowing.” Blond brows furrowing, teeth grit. “And m’gonna take suuuuch good care of you, my love. Can be the hah- pretty lil’ mother of my kids, while I take care of eeeeverything for ya.”

His crowned shaft scrapes all the way near the entrance to your womb and you find yourself seeing stars. “Sh-shit, oh, Kento-” Clawing onto his tie, the attire tightens enough to squeeze his airway and make your husband gasp-

“Mmm, spit in my mouth.”

You gape, “Wh-what-”

Oh, you couldn’t hear him? No problem - because all those years of Nanami’s battle-training goes directly into reflexively bending down, down, down until your body n’ cunt scream at the stretch.

His perspired forehead rests on yours, tonality dripping with need. “Spit in my mouth.”

And how could you not?

Not when he was asking you like that. Not when his glassy peripherals were staring into your own like he could just eat you alive. 

Nanami’s parched throat hums at the splatter of your webbed wad of saliva, wetting his taste buds properly. And once you do as he says, his roaming cock twitches- “F-feels like m’gonna cum inside.” Immediately burrowing those cracked moans of his back into your tits.

You’re whimpering, mouth lolling at the feeling of his canines gnawing your nipples raw. “Mmm, oh my god- what’s gotten into you with that today, Ken?”

“Well…” He gruffly admits, the fringes of his teeth trapping your left nipple and tuggin’, “-m’practising for when these tits have actual milk soon, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - FLEXXX

“You- bend- so- well-” Your fuzzy brain barely even has the time to register Geto’s words before he’s drilling each of them in with a rough thrust of his swollen, ruby-red cock. 

Just so fat n’ aching to claim every secret ridge inside of your pussy, he’s not sunken even halfway in before he’s rutting. Furiously. Like he didn’t even care for the way his girthy length was struggling against your tight ring of muscle, Geto pushes down on the undersides of your thighs further and makes you shrill.

He’s marvelling, amethyst eyes flickering at the way this mating press had your pussy all smeared open. All ready. It didn’t matter how much your body stretched and stretched, Geto was just so strong that he had you pliably thrown around like some ragdoll. “You bend so, so well.” 

“Fuck, ngh, Suguru-”

And it was your fault - yours. You were the one to challenge him into folding you into a mating press, and he was more than happy to deliver.

In fact, Geto’s just so impatient that he’s feeling your snug hole clench ‘round his shaft and bucks- knees anchoring down on the springy mattress to get his slick length tunneling deeper. “It’s like you’re- fuck- like-”

Gaze slightly glassy. Expression slightly crazed. 

Geto has to force himself to pull out his entire sloppy cock before he can even manage to speak.

Hot breath heating up your awed features- “S’like this pretty pussy’s been wantin’ to be folded into a mating press for aaaaages, gorgeous.”

And then he’s slamming his rugged, rock-hard girth until the patterns of his veins brand on your cervix. Letting it fill you up till he’s bottomed out, Geto’s dark happy trail rubs the poor folds of your cunt raw, dragging his vulgar strokes out until you’re keening—

“Oh- oh my god-” You’re babbling, tears crinkling from the edges of your eyelids. You’re scrambling to hold onto your trembling thighs, “This position makes me feel so- so…”

“S’okay- s’okay, your Suguru has you.” He snickers from above, the contents of his sentence were gentle but the way he was saying them was utterly mean. 

Just like the way Geto was stickin’ his bulbous tip into you, pouring out drops of pre into each crevice. The squirting sensation makes your poor cunt quiver, wads of syrup oozing out of your entrance and making your pussy weep. You don’t even think twice before roaming your unsteady dominant hand down to toy with your neglected clit-

SPANK!

Only to have it swatted rudely away by Geto’s own.

“S-Suguru- what are you-” Before you know it, one of his knees comes crashing down to pin your hand to the creaking mattress. 

Leaning his weight down even more into the mating press until all the blood in your lower half was rushing to your head, “What did I hngh- tell you, gorgeous?” He purrs, lips twitching into a grin. And every massed inch of his body was collapsing into you, to further bend you cutely. Twisting his thumb ‘round to graze your perked nub, “I said I’ve got you. Look at thaaaat—I can even toy with your p-pretty clit like this, gorgeous.” 

And fuck- did he like seeing that cockdrunk expression on your face.

Did he like having your mouth drop agape with each thump-thump-thump speared way into the back of your cunt. Geto was both long and girthy, and it was maddening to have his curvaceous length molding your walls to his exact measurements - especially in this mating press, that had him filling up nooks and crannies that you didn’t even know you had. 

Your gummy walls clench like you were trying to keep him there- “A-and you’ve got me too now, huh? Locked all in this…fucking mating press- fuck!” Crazed. 

Chuckling.

You’re trying hard to whimper out a response - botched and half-nonsense at this point - when it suddenly hits you that Geto wasn’t even talking to you. 

“That’s right-” He coos, leaning even closer to hear the soft wafting squelches let out from your dripping wet pussy. “That’s right that’s right, you’ve got me- and m’- haaah- sorry for not putting you into a cute lil’ mating press earlier like you deserve.”

And you’re almost shocked because Geto rarely apologizes even to you - rather, focusing on actions and comfort than words. But right now he was pleading to your smeared-open cunt like he’d no sooner be on his damn knees.

“Because you really, really like it- don’tcha?” The sleazy smile slashed across his lips was twitchy, “Like being fucked by me with your legs up? Ngh- this lil’ position to have this cute cunt bred?”

Thrust after thrust, he’s poking your dewy insides with the length of his cock. Letting the bloated ridge of his slit scrape against your g-spot, it makes the man titter to watch you gasp. It makes him groan. It makes his own husky voice crack- “Please- please, Suguru.”

“Don’t you worry now, pretty lady.” The fatness of his thumb bullies between your folds, and before long he’s pressin’ doooown on your clit like some pretty, wet button. The motion lets out such sappy background music- “It’s all that you deserve, isn’t it? All that you- you-”

Splat—! 

You’re looking up through the long, inky strands of Geto’s hair just to find that- oh, he was tearing up now. 

The cadence of his cock was burrowing between your folds at a blurring speed, and each slight thrust with you in this position ran him ragged. Harder. Sloppier. So far gone on your softened cunt, the eager embrace of your walls was enough to make him throw his head backwards and bite down on yet another sob. 

“I-I’m always gonna put you into a mating press from now on, gorgeous.” He fucks you into the exhausted bedsprings until one breaks. Meaning it. “Always.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Fever

“Woah…I can see her so clearly like this, baby.” Choso’s mere words make him blush, a lewd scorching rouge that accompanies each flick of his gaze up n’ down your cunt. “It makes me feel…shy.”

And you can barely even breathe around the fatness of his mushroomy tip, teasingly entered between your folds. Your boyfriend lets out a low, grumbling whine just as soon as he pulls back and looks at you in all your entirety - legs on his shoulders, knees hitting your tits, pussy stuffed. 

“Oh- oh!” Choso seems to snap out of his little reverie just as soon as your hips start squirming, and he’s using his superhuman strength to clasp onto your waist and draaaag you backwards into his body. “B-but don’t worry, that doesn’t mean m’gonna- hah- stop.” He looks almost sheepish as he admits, “In fact…I don’t think I even can ngh- stop.”

And he meant it.

“Fuck- fuck, baby—” Oh, you could feel it with each punishing strike of his rock-hard length. 

Choso wasn’t even bottomed out, but you could still feel the throbbing crown of his shaft swat your inner walls. Deeper. Harder. 

With you all laid out, he could see exactly what he was doing to you - and that pretty pussy of yours. With your puffy core stretched oh-so-widely ‘round his girth, “Shit—” Your entrance glistens each time his length was mazing between your clingy walls. “Sh-shiiit, I really don’t think I can ngh- stop, baby.”

Hit after hit, the globe of your ass cheeks now felt permanently plastered to Choso’s v-line. “H-hah, guess I should mention more ‘human sex things’ more- hngh- often, huh?”

He pleads, bottom lip jutting out adorably, “My baby, if you do that I might just die.”

And Choso’s cock was looong- a pretty pink, with a few curly veins down the sides that were burrowing into your gooey walls. The weepy divot of his orifice bludgeons your cervix like his very personal target, and it makes him tug your legs further ‘round his shoulders with a groan.

“Wait, ngh, oh my-” You’re gasping for air- and you swear his strawberry tip was tuggin’ down the sides of your channel. Was growing even bigger—“Cho…” You’re tasting the familiar metallic tang of cursed energy in the air, “-your hck! Powers–!”

“O-oh, sorry, baby–” He tries to reel his hips back, watching all the while. “Let me just-”

Only to rut all the way back in again.

It’s as if he couldn’t last a single nanosecond without your dewy cunt, steadily getting addicted to the glissading texture of your walls. Choso can feel his skin spark, he can feel the way his blood manipulation technique was going out of control to hone in on the blushin’ crown of his shaft and prolong his inches.

You’re shrilling, feeling his bloated cock swell up even further inside of you. Scouring your snug folds until you nearly couldn’t even take it any more- “It’s just- just this position.”

“The…mating press?”

“Fuck! D-don’t even say the words, please.”

Harder.

Bigger - his aching hot cock was probing your deepest innards like never before. Grunting, “I can s-see you and that preeeetty pussy and- and-” Mashing the thick crown of his cockhead, he can’t control his speed. His thoughts. Not even the way he’s speaking by now. “-and I think m’addicted to mating presses now.”

In the end, the only thing you can do is open your mouth to formulate a quiet coo at your pussydrunk boyfriend- only to have him slam one clammy, open palm down on your neck to stop you from talking.

Choking you. 

“S-sorry, baby, it’s just that your pretty hck! voice makes me…” He’s trailing off with an utterly gaped maw, saliva leaking in excess from one side of his mouth. And you can feel him throb ragingly near your cervix, “-get even harder.”

Somehow managing to wheeze out, “But- ngh- I like that, Cho.” Your hamstrings ache once your ankles pull him in by the back of his sweaty neck, crushing him to you. “Like that you’re inside so deeeep.”

“You…you like it?” Another whiff of jujutsu, another few thwacks of his ever-growing cock.

“Mhm—” You jerk your hips crazily, “More-”

The only response you’re getting for the moment is Choso’s lithe, toned body bending over until his forehead plasters against your own. Staring deeply into your dizzy peripherals when he mutters, “Then- then take it. Take it all.”

It’s an orgasm you didn’t even see coming - just one, two, three sloppy thwacks of his curved cockhead against your g-spot. Even harder.

And he can see the precise moment your high takes over; with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, toes curling, mouth agape. “Oh- oh my god, nghhh, m’cumming m’cumming—Cho-!”

Having you cream all ‘round his length with your quivering walls was simply heaven. 

Each peak n’ explosion of white-hot pleasure made Choso rover his lengthy shaft, dragging out your high until your throat was hoarse with moans. And just when you thought you couldn’t be even more cockdrunk- he’s bursting into his own high.

Hard. Fast.

Stark ivory bliss flashing behind his eyelids the very second that your treacly cunt’s being painted in the same color. And it was so hot, too, practically taking over your body from the inside out with his webbed wads gluing your walls together. “O-oh.” He crouches back just a bit - for just a second - before spitting straight down your soppy slit.

It adds onto the ropes upon ropes of scalding syrup spraying between your legs, trickling down onto the bedsheets in a puddle.

“Look at that-” Choso rasps out, still jackhammering away like he would die if he spent a second without pounding you through the mattress. 

Sensually, he sticks the pulsating, reddened crown of his cock way past the line of your womb. And you’re just starting to ponder that you should ask him to fold you into a mating press more often when his voice trembles - octaves higher, cracking at the back of his throat. “Do you think it took, baby? Or…do I need to try again?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Jet TWO!

“Heh…?” Sukuna had raised an impish pink brow when you’d started describing your ideal sex position. And the longer you’d gone on, the more parched his second mouth had gotten - flicking his monstrous tongue, salivating. “Humans and their filthy creations.”

Rolling both sets of his crimson eyes, he was then easily picking you up in his arms to sprawl you across the ancient bed. 

“Oh well.” He’s forced to hunch more so than he normally would with his hulking figure, and the King of Curses is just so big that your ankles can barely even lock ‘round the back of his neck.

Two arms keeping them spread, the other two bringing your treacly cunt down to kiss his weepy mushroom tips. He grins, “Guess you’re my filthy human.”

And fuck- Sukuna would never fucking admit it, but it just felt so right to have his thick, probing cocks enter you like this. To have you so whiny and helpless pinned underneath his body, he barely even has to try to slip in a few staggering inches that scrape your walls. 

Puffy pussylips spread allll wide open by his circumferences, there was more resistance than usual and that only made it sweeter. Usually having you ride him with his sheer size meant he didn’t get to see you all squirming and bucking out-of-control like this…

Fuck- just then, Sukuna gasps.

He falters. 

Feeling his throbbing lengths spurt out in thin ribbons of ivory sap, he had barely even put it in before cumming. “Goddammit-” Grumbling, “God-goddammit, s’all because of you- because of this damn position.”

“You’re blaming that?” You’re whining, almost smugly. It feels like a whirlwind to have his dewy webs of cum swirlin’ around your insides - you’d just made the big, bad Ryomen Sukuna cum early. Just from a mating press. 

And then he’s pumping a few of his clingy ounces past your walls with a swat of his girths. Flooding your inner thighs with glistening seed that sticks to your skin, “Oh, Kuna-”

Snickering, one of his cursed fingers flick right where your throbbing cunt was all presented for him like a gift. Your lower half was just so limp that it’s all he has to do to make you gush out in a waterfall of slick - loudly. “Kehhh, like this, huh? So this ‘mating press’ is about heh- mating, isn’t it, brat?” Another one of his four hands smush your cheeks together into such an embarrassing pout, “Then you better take it like a champ, ma.”

You’re all at Sukuna’s mercy, and he was rude about it.

Using the plump, pre-sheened crowns of his cocks like headlights- each mazing pump of his girths have your walls revealing hidden nooks n’ crannies you didn’t even know existed. To fill you up. “F-fuck–!” So sloppy that the wads of his cum mix with your slick to let off slurp-slurp-sluuuurps.

“Oh? So you agree?” For a split-second, you think he’s talking to you- 

And you’re blubbering out something that halfway resembled an answer- “I- it’s-”

“Not you. Her.”

Before the cavern of his second mouth licks its lips and snickers. Sukuna stares down at your wet cunt after a few more lecherous squelches, “See? She agrees?”

Clawing down his bulky deltoids, “Fuh-fuuuuck! Just like that- just like that, Kuna—”

“Hah! The entire castle’s gonna know that they’re getting a fuckin’ heir soon, mama.” Rolling his eyes, he’s gifting your humid pussy with a few more inches. “Well…not that I mind.”

With a few more jabs until the strawberry-shaded globes of his tips were burrowing deeply into the back of your cervix with a splat. It was a stretch so good that you find yourself sobbing, your thighs twitchin’ weakly over his shoulders. You couldn’t even escape if you wanted to- 

Your chin hits the front of your chest and you sniffle, being manhandled all out of shape by his arms meant that you could see your front clearly. Especially the large, thick bulge that was taking shape. “O-oh my god…”

“Huh?” He’s catching sight of it too - that cute lil’ tummy bulge his cocks were fucking into you. Each pap! of skin-on-skin leaving your stomach all bumpy with his sheer size, “Jeez…this- this fucking position. Hell, it’s driving me crazy.”

The slivery slit of your cunt weeps the very second that Sukuna’s cursed tongue slithers out n’ laps at your pussy. Just teasing your bloated folds with the rough texture of his taste buds.

Tittering, “S’drivin’ you crazy too, huh?” Nodding along as if he was just thoroughly in conversation with your pussy, the King swats his rugged fingertips back down on your clit and watches you weep. “Yeahhh—I can tell. So talkative, mama, always so chatty when I hah- fuck you.” From both sets of your pretty lips.

And then he’s turning to you - all wrecked n’ trembling. The lengthy muscle of Sukuna’s second tongue has the audacity to trek up your body and lick at the clogged mess of drool leaving your mouth.

Sensually, lazily, he’s stirrin’ around his pummeling cocks just so. Letting wisps of cum stick against the roof of your cunt, your cervix, every spot in-between. 

Sukuna’s leaning over in the mating press to juuust let his cum-glossed tips poke against your womb, letting out such a noisy squelch from below. “Mmm.” He hums, watching as you struggle to take it all. “Y’know why she’s so chatty right- hah- now, brat?”

“Wh-why?”

“Because she know m’just getting started.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - BIG BOYYY

SMACK–!

You’re unsure who’s whining more at the feeling of Ino’s reddened, scorching hot tip spanking down between your pussylips. 

Letting the treacly syrup of your slick coat his cock till it was all glistening, he’s measuring his fat girth out against your entrance just to make sure you’d be able to take him this way. Because he usually did have you ride, maybe even a sloppy doggy once-in-a-while - but now…

“The- the tiktok said it was like this, pretty. Open those legs up wide f’me.” Your boyfriend’s announcing, throwing your legs over his toned shoulders. 

And you gawk at the way that Ino’s biceps flex as he’s holding onto both your ankles behind his neck. “And then it was like this, and…” Truly, you couldn’t forget that he was so strong- and he barely even realized it. Easily bending you in half like a pretzel, Ino doesn’t even hesitate before making the curves of your knees strike your tits, the ridges of his abs blending against your core. “-I bend you like this. All good, sweetness?”

“Y-yes— fuck!” You don’t know how you’re managing to huff out an answer- but whatever’s left of it is being thrust out of your body the very next second. 

Because Ino can’t stand a single moment seeing you all spread n’ dripping wet for him like this - not a single moment. That is, if he isn’t spreading you with all of his aching hot cock.

And before you can even register it, the probin’ crown of his length finds its way stuffed between your pussylips. Ruby-red tip disappearing past your slick hole, he’s pushing and pushing inside with a strained groan. “F-fuck. I’m not fine- oh, m’not fine, pretty- think m’losing my mind—”

“T-Taku, baby–” Your tongue salivates generously at the ridged lines of his veiny shaft, he was smearing you out so openly without even trying. “-this is called a ‘mating press’, y’know?”

You swear you feel his weepy orifice twitch straight inside you, banging against the sides of your walls filthily. “So…so that’s what it is, sweetness.” Kissing you sweetly, your lips are the perfect way for Ino to muffle his husky whines as he pumps and pumps and pumps. “Whoever created this thing is in fucking hngh- heaven- because I am.”

You’re almost feeling a giggle bubble its way up to your throat, dragging your hand through his tawny locks. “I’m sure.”

“No- no, you don’t get it, pretty.”  He’s pleading with you, almost shellshocked. 

With one hand manhandling your hips to dangle cleanly off of the mattress, the other lacing on top of your scalp to get you to look down where he was burrowing his inches. “Look at me- look at- us.” He’s hissing, hips angling each precise strike to target your sweetest spots. “I can bend you like thiiiis—”

In an instant, the hand at your scalp rovers down to your neck - and he’s draaaagging you up bodily, kissing your mouth. “Or like thiiiis-” Moaning, he’s then instantly changing the pressure on your throat to shove you down deeper into the bedsprings. Curling your spine into the perfect curvature, pinning you down with his bodyweight even further, “E-even like…this.”

He was just so trained with his moves - swift and precise through battle, but right now he was using them to ruin you. Ino was naturally chiselled; all ladder-like abs, firm arms, and a veiny v-line that were all pushing into you right now. 

And with a few more vulgar strokes, you’re yelping as he moves you around- this time, Ino has his meaty thighs coming up to cushion the sides of your hips. 

Blushin’ tip creaming down your cervix, washboard abs glissading down your front. “Oh my god-” You can feel a thrill zing through your body at the blatant show of his strength. He was manhandling you like it was nothing. “Taku- fuck fuck fuck, s’more.”

“More?” His voice cracks, his chocolate irises water at the way your velvety insides keep clinging onto him. “M-more?”

And you could’ve sworn that was a whimper.

Right before his pummeling cock was steeply slamming into you - faster, sloppier. With absolutely no care or rhythm; nothing other than the aim to stir up your insides until each nook n’ cranny was thoroughly stretched. And he was succeeding, too. 

Thrashing the globular crown of his shaft against the very entrance to your womb and hissing out–“More? S’that it? S’this more?” Voice cracked. Tone turning rugged.

“Mmm—” You cup Ino’s blushing cheeks and he whines. Just staring into your eyes leaves the bulbous end of his cockhead weepy, “Harder.”

He echoes, “H-harder?”

“Harder.” 

Grinning, and oh- Ino’s got his hands on you already. It’s like a second, animal instinct the way he’s then clawing down your inner thighs, pushing up your every limb, bending you till your joints were creaking nearly as loud as the bed was right now. 

Thrust after thrust.

He’s gluing the curvature of his mushroom tip against the spongy layer of your g-spot, hard enough that you nearly don’t hear the words that leave his mouth next-

“Next time…” Ino starts off, cute pinkish lips trembling. He stares at you with a dopey grin as his cock stretches you furiously, “-I also saw a hah- tiktok about a thing called a…full nelson, pretty.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Kitty Whisperer

“I-I’m gonna fucking purple hollow whoever came up with the fuck! mating press, sweetheart.” He’s leaning in close- leaning in until you could make out every flicker of blue lightning within Gojo’s eyes, every gleam in his peary white grin. And he hisses, “I can’t fucking stop.”

And he couldn’t - not if he even wanted to.

Though, fuck- Gojo’s thrashing the fat, bludgeoning crown of his cock against your cervix until he’s seeing stars. Until his pale v-line was rubbed all red with slamming impact - Gojo doesn’t think he’d ever want to stop.

It’s like he was in heaven with the way you’re clenchin’ around his throbbing length. Gojo was just so hard that his glazed, bulging tip was bruising your cervix.

And all you can do is drag red, red nailmarks down the expanse of his muscular back. “Oh my god-”

He hums in faux thought, though you could feel the way that Gojo’s strawberry tip was flinching in excitement near your cervix. “Mmmm, I prefer ‘Satoru’, my girl—”

“S-Satoru–!”

“That’s right-” He’s punctuating each n’ every syllable with a hollowing thud! of his shaft, voice running ragged. Pitches lilting. And there’s something in the way he looks at you with widened blue eyes that makes you think he wants to eat you alive. “-that’s right that’s right- say my fuck–ing- name.”

And the thing about the strongest was that he wasn’t just pounding you into the sagging bedsprings - right now, he was sloppily reeling his cock back allll the way until the shiny globe of his tip pulled out with dewy plops! Instead of his usually smooth thrusts- Gojo kept on pumping his long, solid inches from leaking orifice of his length right till his very base. Every single time.

It was simply driving you mad at the carnal stretch, your toes curl every time his vein-covered hilt was stretching out your entrance. “This mating press’s gonna drive me ma-mad.” He’s muttering, teeth grit against your ear. “Gonna drive me fuck! Crazy.”

And several things are happening at once - he’s thumping the spongy layer of your cervix with a particularly rough strike, and your flickering bedside lamp shatters.

“Fuh-fuck–!”

“Shit, your powers…” You’re keening at the shards of glass that are halted in midair - your husband’s limitless was covering the both of you now. “Toru, you’re going out of ngh- control-”

“And how m’I expected to stay in control, sweetheart–?” The white-haired man drawls out, almost mockingly. Pitch finding itself a few octaves higher, he’s dragging the puffy veins of his cock down your walls until you find them helplessly sensitive. 

Trying oh-so-hard to extract yourself from his merciless hold, you’re clamoring your feet off of his shoulders and bucking up the mattress like you didn’t know whether you wanted to run away or slam your hips down for more, more, more. “Not when I- oh! not when I have you like this- fuck! Not when m’fucking you like thiiiiis. You can’t expect me to stay sane when I have you in a fucking mating press, my girl.”

And if you thought that the Gojo Satoru wouldn’t notice your restless little squirming, then you haven’t been married to him long enough.

Because, before you know it, he has both hands glued to your throat pliably draaaaag your body down to thwack against his. Hard. Heaving, “Don’t you dare fucking run.” He mutters, something tremoring in his tone. “I can’t let you run when I have you like hah- this…” Squeezing his eyes shut, lightning flickering behind like it made his body ache animalistically to have you like this. “I should never have let the elders talk me into this- oh, ‘Gojo heir’ my ass- I should n-never…”

He’s trailing off- cutting himself off with a deep groan.

And you’re whining just as soon as his stirrin’ cock pokes against your womb, opening you up in ways that you never thought possible before. “Shit- b-but I like it, Toru.”

“Mmm—” Gojo’s body flinches like he’d just been shocked by a thousand volts- and it takes him a few seconds to register what you just said. “You’re so right.” Raising his bleary eyes to stare dead-on into yours, he’s musing, “Y-you’re soooo right, sweetheart. How else would you have gotten ngh- fucked like this?”

What did he mean by…?

Your husband snickers, rosy lips curling with slight smugness - and it’s only then that you’re realizing you’d just uttered that last sentence out loud. 

Almost predatory, Gojo nuzzles his nose bridge to the crook of your neck. “You wanna fuuuuck- know what it means to be put in a mating press by me, sweetheart?” Slap after slap of his bludgeoning tip left your ears popped, barely able to make out his words. “Means m’gonna fuck a baby into ya.”

“O-oh.” You gape, but the strongest wasn’t done just yet.

“Means m’gonna hngh- reach into your deepest spots.” Right on time, the fatness of his crowned shaft reaches for your cervix and then digs in deep— like he would go even further if he could. “Means m’gonna p-permanently keep ya like ngh- this. L-like—”

And then he’s drooling, mouth open and his lust-filled thoughts trailing off.

Without any warning, Gojo reaches back for a split-second to spit down to your leaking slit. Looking through his long ivory lashes as you gasp, “Don’t act like you don’t like it, my girl.”

“I do I do–” You nod your head fervently- or maybe it was the sheer driving force of each of his thrusts. If it was even possible, your ankles are locking even further surrounding the perspired back of his head. Bliss seeping into your veins. “I like it s’much, want it even more, Toru.”

That renders him speechless. It renders him gawking down at you.

The only thing that Gojo can do is stroke his throbbing cock down your tight channel with drill after drill, “Oh my god-” He’s whispering to himself, pounding into you so hard that your ass cheeks were being pushed cleanly off the bedsheets by now. “Oh my god oh my hah-” 

He’s darting his eyes down to take but a single glimpse of you - all folded in half into his mating press - then averts his gaze the moment his skin starts to prickle with cursed energy. 

“What the…having you like this—” He couldn’t even look at you. “How m’I supposed to even go on?”

The ball of tightness at the pit of your stomach makes you shiver, “Ngh- oh my god…mm, Toru-”

In sensual synchronization with the glutinous swipes of his cock, he’s setting one hand free from your throat. Thumping it against his temple as if to knock some sense back into him- “I-I think m’going insane.” Breathily, he shakes his head, eyes now finally daring to look back at you. “Think m’getting new powers- think she’s…” 

His mouth falls open at the sudden squelch letting out from your soppy pussylips, his dazed eyes focus so intensely that you can feel cursed energy sweep your body. Taking over. 

Until he’s finally muttering, “Y’know what she’s oh- saying to me, sweetheart?”

“What?” You whine, your primal greed getting to the best of you. And now the only thing you can do is perk your hips up to match his feral cadence.

And Gojo cracks such a dangerous, pussydrunk grin. “She says we’re gonna make a baaaaaby—”

With a final, solid spank of his rovering cock, you’re getting run over by your high. And he knew this would happen - he saw it with the power of his Six Eyes - so Gojo wastes no time ramming you through your peaks.

“Cum—ing…” The spheroid end of his shaft makes your toes curl, caressing your every deepest inch through each white-hot spark of pleasure - so hard that your husband barely even realizes when he, too, crashes into his orgasm.

Something bursts. 

Collapsing onto your body with his hulking one, grunt heaving after each splat! of wadded cum leaking into your womb.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” He’s damn-near whimpering in your ear, and the angular position of the mating press made it easy for him to pump your cunt full with as many ounces of seed as possible. Enough so that you’re just spilling ivory syrup from your entrance, forming a ring of sap on his base. “Ohhh yeah, oh yeah, sweetheart.”

Gojo feels the warm, knotted mess and twitches- the bedroom lights had shattered but he could still see. In fact, the entirety of Tokyo didn’t have power right about now. 

He gives an experimental thrust and listens for the sluuuurp- “D’you think if I cum in you again our baby’s gonna be twice as strong, my girl?”

“…”

A/N. I thought I was soooo funny for that jet two joke-

Hope you have a lovely week <3

[dearwalker]

Supersoldiers in Paris | sex pollen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker WC: 8.9k

Description: Retrieving vials from an abandoned Red Room facility gets you infected with sex pollen. You may have to make a stop in Paris with John and Bucky before you can get back home.

Tags/warnings: fem!reader, smut, sex pollen, long buildup, dirty thoughts, super soldier threesome, oral male & fem!rec, piv, quinjet sex, praising, begging, overstimulation. Bit of humor, Yelena makes an appearance. Not beta read.

Note: It’s finally here!!! This was requested by many lovely people so here you go 🤭 this is quite long, but who says porn can’t have plot? all I can say is enjoy the super soldier duo 🫶🏼

archive | masterlist | johnny’s version | clark’s version

You barely remember what the mission briefing said. Something about an old Red Room facility, decommissioned after Yelena’s family had taken it down. You were sent there to gather any biochemical weapons left behind.

The place was massive. The air was thick with dust, reeking of rust and chemicals. Endless concrete hallways stretching in complete darkness. Bucky and John walked ahead of you, flashlights, guns and shield raised, cautiously swiping the dark corridor. 

Yelena was instructed to wait back at the jet as comm support, in case things went sideways. 

"Path's clear, let's go," John's voice echoed on the walls as Bucky trailed right behind him. "Stay sharp. Even when they say it's abandoned, we don't know what or who we'll find here."

Your boots crunched over broken glass as you swept your flashlight. 

"I doubt anything’s alive in here," you claimed, gasping when your flashlight caught a string of webs nested on a corner you were passing through, "... except for spiders," you scowled, walking faster to catch up with Bucky ahead of you. 

"Spiders I can deal with," Bucky said, slightly looking over his shoulder to acknowledge the way you got closer to him. "It's the shit they left behind that worries me."

"You should find the vault's door right around the corner guys." Yelena announced through the comms. 

The corridor opened into a tall, heavy, reinforced steel door. 

"Looks like our stop," John said, running his fingers over the keypad but it was useless.

"I got it," Bucky stepped in, placing the gun on his holster and holding the flashlight between his teeth to place his hands on the door.

Bucky groaned, with a curl of his metal arm and a grinding screech, the vault hinges gave way, sliding the door open. 

The room in front of you was completely dark. You stepped inside cautiously, flashlights catching multiple metal boxes scattered around, labeled in a language you didn’t understand. A thick layer of dust covered every surface, the sealed time capsules of the Red Room's worst secrets. Bucky walked around the room reading the labels, stopping on the one he recognized as 'biological'. 

"Jackpot," John mumbled, making his way to Bucky.

It was a smaller crate compared to the rest, perched on top of a bigger one. You brushed your gloved hand over the container, the latch immediately clicking open with unsettling ease, revealing what was inside. 

Six neatly cushioned vials glowing faintly in the dark. 

The clear glass was filled with gold specks suspended in air, the dust shimmering brighter when your light passed over it.  Bucky leaned in closer, eyes narrowing like he recognized it, but he didn't say a word. 

"...uh, what is that?" you asked, noticing the way Bucky tensed up at your side. 

"Looks like glitter," John squinted, already reaching to grab one out of the box. 

"Walker, don't touch that–" Bucky protested, but John had already picked the vial. 

A loud siren rang immediately, the dark room suddenly lit up in red lights that pulsed in time with the alarm. A metallic screech echoed in the vault, the steel door Bucky had forced open slammed shut again with a heavy clang, trapping you in. 

"Shit–" John cursed, placing the glass vial back where it belonged. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

"Yeah shit, Walker! We're locked in!" you groaned. 

You looked up just in time to see a fine cloud of gold shimmer, hissing into the air like a burst of fireworks. It rained down on you before you could react. The glittering haze hung in the air, shimmering under the emergency lights, curling into your throat with every breath. 

"Fuck–" you stumbled back, coughing. 

Bucky shoved the crate shut to pick it up, dragging you behind him by instinct as you made your way back to the door. His jaw was tight, eyes sharp, like he'd seen this before.

"Don't breathe it in."

"Bit late for that!" you rasped, still coughing.

"Barnes, what is this?" John demanded, already trying to force the sealed steel door. The metal didn't even budge. 

Bucky didn't answer right away. His arm braced you steady as you blinked trying to come back to your senses, and his gaze flicked over your glassy eyes under the red lights.

"We gotta get her out of here," he said to John, who nodded and went back to force the door again. 

"I'm fine," you insisted, even as your chest ached, the air too hot in your lungs. "It's just dust–"

"No," he snapped. "It's not."

John turned from the door, breathing heavy but steady in comparison to you. "Door's heavier than before. Reinforced." 

Bucky just nodded, placing the crate carefully on the floor before placing himself next to John, both supersoldiers trying to open the door now. 

"Yelena," you desperately called into comms, fumbling with the earpiece. "Yelena, come in. We got trapped!" you insisted but nothing came back. "Dammit!" 

Seems like you were stuck in here.

For three minutes, you told yourself you were fine. It was just dust. Just harmless glitter. You already coughed it out, you were standing, breathing, moving just fine. Really. 

But then a tingling started.

At first, it was a crawl up the back of your neck. Then, heat all over your body, like the room's temperature was increasing by the minute. 

What the hell?

The room suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were closing in on you. And after a few seconds it hit you, like a memory yanked out of nowhere. 

Valentina. The vault. 

"Oh my god ... are we in an incinerator again?" You panicked, voice cracking before you could stop the words from coming out. 

Bucky and John froze on their spots. 

Their heads whipped around from where they'd been bracing against the door, their bewildered faces fixed on you now. 

"...What?" John asked carefully.

"It's the– the temperature," you explained, gesturing around, but they just raised his eyebrows in more confusion. "You don't feel that?" 

John frowned, leaving his spot on the door to get closer, eyes scanning you. "It's not hot in here. Vents are still running," he affirmed, lifting his gloved hand to your forehead, hissing when his fingers touched your skin. "Jesus, you're burning up." 

"No, no. I'm fine. Must be the adrenaline," you shook your head, stepping back from him. "I'm just... it's the lights, it feels the same when Valentina tried to... you know," you shrugged, trying to brush it off. 

"Right ... the vault," John nodded hesitantly. It did feel quite similar, without the fire burning you to death, of course. 

"Yeah," you said quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Forget about it, it's just me being dramatic."

But you could feel the sweat trickling down your spine. The heat wasn't in the room, it was inside you. Bucky's gaze flicked between you and the sparkly dust still hanging in the air, not really believing for a second what you were saying.

You really had to get out of there. 

"Walker," Bucky snapped, turning back to the door with determination. "I need your help over here."

John didn't argue, but only turned after giving you a look that said he didn't quite believe you either. He crossed the vault in a few strides and planted his shoulder against the door beside Bucky. 

You tried to move, tried to be useful, but your body felt heavier, like your bones weren't holding you together anymore. The alarm screamed overhead. Your pulse beating in your ears, and there was this indescribable heat pooling in between your thighs. 

"It's fine. I'm fine. Not like this is the first time I've been locked in a vault," you mumbled, tried to reason with yourself. 

You shifted your stance without thinking, thighs pressing together, almost making you whimper.

All you could do was zone out, turning around as both super soldiers pushed shoulder to shoulder, muscles straining, throats grunting as they threw their combined weight against the reinforced steel.

And god that sound, the deep, rough groans of pure brute force snapped your head around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.

Suddenly, you weren't zoning out anymore. Your eyes were on them. 

You saw Bucky's jaw clenched tight, veins standing out his neck, the plates of his metal arm shifting and grinding as he braced himself against the steel. His long, wavy hair falling forward, damp with sweat from the strain.

Beside him, John ripped off his beret in frustration, tossing it aside. His blonde hair stuck in messy strands, his shoulders locking as he set his weight and shoved again, teeth clenching in focus. His chest heaved, the muscles of his broad back tightening under the suit. 

You swallowed hard. Something switched inside you. 

You should've been helping. You should've been searching the walls, finding an override panel, anything. Instead, you stood rooted in place drooling, watching two supersoldiers straining and sweating under red emergency lights like some fever dream fantasy.

And then Bucky's voice cut through the alarm, sharp, commanding, something deep in you pulsed in response wishing it was you being ordered around. 

"Walker. On three. Push."

No hesitation. John just shifted his stance, nodded, and followed the order without a word. They pushed, the sound of metal straining filling the vault. No progress.

"Again," John gritted this time, breathless. 

The door didn't budge. But your knees nearly did.

God. The sight of them side by side, Bucky's darkness and John's gold under the emergency glow, two soldiers down to their raw strength and grit. Together they were a sight for sore eyes. 

And all you could think about was how well they would work together on each side of you too–

Why do I want them to order me around like that? Why is Walker's voice doing this to me? We're literally trapped to death and all I can think about is the shift in Bucky's metal arm around my–

You dug your nails into your palm, forcing yourself to breathe through it. Focus. Panic. Not arousal. 

This is panic! you're panicking. 

Still, your eyes refused to look away. Watching the strain in their throats, the sweat glistening under the strobing lights, the way Bucky snapped out an order and John just followed, like an instinct. 

Your thighs pressed together on their own accord, heat crawling lower, faster. You took in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself.

Stop it. Stop. You should be helping. Find a panel, a switch, anything. Don't just stand here drooling. 

You stumbled away from the door, looking around for another exit, trying to zone out again their groans are like it was something you weren't supposed to hear. 

"Hey–" Bucky's voice snapped from behind you, concerned. "Don't drift too far. Stay in our sight."

"Right, in sight!" You shot him a quick nod and a smile that was far too tight. Still, you let your legs carry you further, their voices now lower as you darted your flashlight against the strobing red lights. 

"We're not making progress here," John grimaced.

"We keep pushing, Walker."

"You think brute force is gonna get this thing open?" John shot back, teeth gritted as he shoved again. "Feels like it's bolted from the outside." 

"It's steel," Bucky growled. "Steel bends."

"Love the optimism, Barnes." John huffed a bitter laugh.

"Less talking, more pushing."

Your flashlight drifted upward. Something John said echoed in your mind, "vents are still running". Right, the vents! That's where the dust must've come from. 

Your eyes scanned the high ceiling, following the flicker of the red lights until you found it, the grate of an air vent right above you. 

"Boys!" you blurted, pointing up. "The vents! There, look!"

John was the first to move towards you, immediately taking a leap to drag the vent's cover down with one sharp pull. A cloud of glitter leftovers rained down, Bucky arrived just in time to push you back before it hit you again. 

"This shit is everywhere," John grimaced, dusting the speckles on his shoulders. "I don't think you should go through there," he turned to you, almost as if he was concerned about the way it was affecting you. "We could keep trying the door." 

"It's our only way out," you shook your head, breathless. "I'm fine, really. Just need to get to jet." 

"Okay," he nodded. "Good job finding the vent."

Your chest stuttered. Heat flushed your cheeks for a whole new reason this time.

He said good. He said I did a good job. I could be doing a better type of job on you—stop it. 

You swallowed hard, biting back the ridiculous little smile tugging at your lips. The world was ending, your body was betraying you, and still, here you were fantasizing.

"I'll check it first," John announced, like it was up to no debate. "Then I'll pull you." 

He took a bigger leap, catching the edge of the vent, shoulders flexing as he hauled himself higher. A feral groan spilling out as his chest strained against the metal. 

You froze, pulse spiking for entirely the wrong reason. The sound rolled right down your spine.

"Got it," John hissed, swinging one arm over, then the other. His hair fell back, grunting again as he pulled himself through, boots scraping against the vent frame until he shoved the rest of his body inside. 

Why did that look so good?

Before you could get lost in your thoughts again, John's face reappeared through the vent. He reached a hand down to you. "You're next. Come on."

Bucky crouched down suddenly, the emergency lights flashing red across his dark hair as he braced beneath the vent.

"Step on my shoulder," he said firmly, looking up at you.

"W-what?" you blurted. 

"Don't worry, I can take it," he flashed you a smile, his metal hand tapping his own shoulder.

Your throat went dry. I wonder what else he can take–

Your stomach flipped, but you stepped forward, bracing your boot against the solid line of Bucky's shoulder. His hands came up automatically, sliding around your calves, then higher, his big palms holding your thighs as he slowly stood with you on top of him. Literally. 

He adjusted his stance, lifting you higher. "Reach for his hand."

Yes, sir. 

You stretched, fingertips almost brushing the vent's edge, your body swaying until John leaned down through the opening, his strong hand catching yours. 

"That's it, good," Bucky praised from below, almost making you falter your grip on John's, but he tightened his hand around yours.  

"Got you," he grunted, finally hauling you up.

For a heartbeat, you were suspended between them, Bucky's hands gripping your thighs from below, John's hold pulling you forward, your chest pressed flush against the frame. Sandwiched.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You finally went through the vent, collapsing against John's chest with a shaky exhale, your heart racing far too fast, your thighs inevitably pressed to his. And something was definitely there. Right in his crotch. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, realizing holy shit this is happening to him too.

He was grateful for the darkness hiding the blush on his cheeks, as he cleared his throat and pushed himself away from you. 

"I'll uh– check the corner," he said, leaning over the opening. "Can you get up here on your own, Barnes?" 

"Of course I can, Walker," Bucky rolled his eyes, clutching the small crate of vials under his elbows, getting ready to jump. 

You covered a laugh with your hand, watching as John crawled forward, the sound of metal creaking under his weight. A low grunt slipped out as he maneuvered past a tight bend, his broad shoulders scraping the walls. You bit your lip hard, forcing yourself to focus on anything else.

Behind you, Bucky pulled himself up into the vent with a leap. The frame groaned under his weight, metal arm catching the red light in flashes. Another grunt. Another low exhale as he finally got inside, placing the small crate in front of him to push it. 

"Vent to the hallway's clear. Safe to go," John's voice echoed.

"Copy," Bucky mumbled.

You started crawling, your skin scraping against cold metal helped ease the heat pooling in your body. 

Focus. You're an Avenger. You've crawled through worse. You can keep it together.

Except you couldn't.

Because every move behind you was highlighted with Bucky's deep breaths, dragging through the narrow space. Each exhale traveling across your legs, hot even through your suit, hitting places it shouldn't.

You clenched your jaw. Tried to ignore it. Tried not to picture what it would sound like with his mouth anywhere near your skin.

And then another rough breath came as he passed right through that tight bend, and your composure snapped.

"Bucky... please stop breathing like that," you hissed over your shoulder, voice weaker than you intended.

Bucky froze.

And for a moment there was just silence, except for your own ragged breathing.

His brows furrowed, confused, almost guilty. But he swallowed hard, realization flickered in his eyes. He knew what you were fighting. You couldn't help it. 

"...Sorry," he apologized, and then no more sounds from him. 

The truth is, he knew exactly what the dust was doing to you. Hell, what it was doing to him. He tried not to look, but the way you swayed your hips from side to side as you crawled in front of him made his mind wander with things he shouldn't be thinking. Maybe in the secrecy of his room, yes. Not in the middle of a situation like this. 

Thankfully, the vent opened into the corridor you saw initially. The lights were strobing white instead of red, and it was silent except for the echo of the alarms still pulsing faintly in the distance. John had already dropped down, boots hitting the concrete with a solid thud. He cleared both sides, then glanced back up at you.

"Jump," he called, holding his arms out. "I got you."

"J-Jump? Absolutely not."

"Come on," his voice was commanding. "How else are you coming down? We gotta get you back to the jet."

He was right, the drop was too high to risk without help. His blue eyes stayed locked on yours, too calm to be Walker but no one was acting out their right minds here anyway.

"Fine."

You pushed forward, braced your palms on the vent frame, and dropped. You landed right into 6'2 of solid muscle. Strong arms wrapping under your thighs and back like a damsel in distress. He set you down gently, his hands lingering a half second too long before he stepped back.

A heavy thud sounded above, Bucky dropping down on his own, crouched low with the small crate in his hands.

"Let's get out of here." 

Both instinctively shifted, stepping forward cautiously. And you, sweating, trembling, still buzzing from John's arms and Bucky's grip, found yourself guided back, tucked neatly behind the sight of two super soldiers moving like predators ahead of you. Just a little more. The way out was close. The jet was close.

But so were they. 

You finally made it to the exit, the three of you burst out into the open, snow crunching under your boots, the freezing air hitting your face. It was blinding after the strobing darkness of the vault, harsh daylight bouncing off the endless stretch of white forest. For a moment, it almost felt good, almost burned the heat out of you. Almost.

And then finally, the jet. The ramp lowered with a hiss, and you stumbled up first. You leaned against the side wall, catching your breath

"Finally!" Yelena was halfway down, about to come charging out. Her blonde hair swung as she stopped short, eyes wide. "You guys freaked me out! Comm's weren't coming through, what the hell happened?"

"We got the vials," you panted. "But got trapped."

Yelena's gaze narrowed at your flushed cheeks, and the sheen of sweat at your temple despite the cold air outside. 

"You okay?" she asked carefully. 

"Yeah," you said quickly, forcing a smile. "We just had to run."

John walked in after you, without even glancing at Yelena. He didn't stop, didn't debrief, just went straight to the cockpit, flipping switches to get out of there as soon as possible. 

Bucky followed behind, silent, setting the small box down against a wall. His face was unreadable, eyes fixed anywhere but on you. 

Yelena's brows furrowed as she looked between the three of you. Your flushed face, John's silence, Bucky's poker face. Something was not right, but since none of you seemed eager to explain, she decided to keep watching in silence until she figured it out. 

John sat in the cockpit, back straight, shoulders stiff as he adjusted controls. He rolled his neck once, then again. He frowned at the discomfort. He was used to adrenaline spikes, used to tension. But the strange hum he'd been feeling since he was in the vault, that uncomfortable warmth spreading across his skin and ... his crotch, felt off. 

He brushed it away, like he'd been doing all this time. Just focus, Walker. Fly the damn jet.

Bucky sat on the bench near the cockpit, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his jaw was locked, eyes fixed on some random spot in the cabin. Sweat pooled under his collar, spreading all around his body, but he told himself it was just the shift from snow to being in a cabin. 

You sat tucked in the far corner, trying to escape Yelena's intense glare. She tilted her head, suspicious, eyes narrowing.

"I'm fine, Yelena. Stop looking at me like that," you whispered, waving her off.

"Looking at you like what?" she innocently shrugged. "Like you can't remember how to breathe?" 

"I'm just catching my breath," you rolled your eyes. Unfortunately, shallow pants slipped out of you, involuntary, no matter how hard you tried to mask them. You couldn't. 

Bucky's head snapped up. 

His enhanced hearing caught every stuttered inhale, every soft exhale from your corner.

And then John stirred too.

He froze mid motion, hands hovering over the controls, before his head jerked in your direction sharply. He tilted his head, eyes widening just slightly.

He smelled you. The arousal. The wetness between your thighs. It was so much. 

"What the fuck–" he mumbled under his breath, looking away from you when Yelena caught him staring. 

His gaze flicked closer in the cabin, right into Bucky's. For one second, they locked eyes. A silent understanding. Then John snapped his gaze away, back to the windshield, flushed like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

—

An hour. 

An hour of tense silence inside the cabin. Yelena had gotten bored at this point, like just watching you all act weird wasn't enough. So she decided to poke a little bit, waiting for someone to break. 

"You know, Walker over there looks like someone shoved a stick up his ass" she sneered. "Look at that try hard pilot face."

You let out a soft laugh, easing up for just a bit a her comment. If she only knew you were imagining that 'try hard pilot face' somewhere else. 

John stiffened in his seat. He should've gotten angry at the comment, but god, that laugh.

On the bench, Bucky should've snorted at the comment, maybe added another one too. But your laugh was too bright in the dark, too alive, too fucking pretty.

And then you got up.

Just a normal thing, standing, stretching your legs, padding toward the small water supply near the cockpit to make up for all the liquid you were sweating.

Bucky's eyes tracked the sway of your hips before he caught himself. His jaw locked, making his gaze snap away. Don't look. Don't.

You bent down to grab a bottle from the lower compartment, and Bucky's knuckles whitened against his thigh. His mind betrayed him instantly ... his big hands on your waist, palms sliding lower, pulling you back against him–No. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Stop it.

John felt it differently, his senses sharpened until it was unbearable. He could smell you stronger now. Not the sweat, the arousal. The change in your heartbeat the closer you came. He forced himself not to turn, not to look, because he knew if he did, he wouldn't stop. 

Then you cracked the bottle open, lifted it to your lips, gulping greedily, desperately. Your throat worked, your chest rising and falling as you drank. You gulped it down quickly, already reaching for another one. 

And then you gasped into the second bottle, a soft sound of relief as the cool water slid down.

John's hand tightened on the controls. He imagined that bottle wasn't water. Imagined your throat working around something else, the same gasp breaking free when he'd press his palm against your neck. His bulge strained harder, pressing against his zipper, and he cursed silently. 

He told himself it was just the adrenaline, like you said before, just his metabolism catching up. But then you took another sip of water, throat bobbing, his brain went there again. 

What else could he make you swallow like that?

What other sounds would you make if he bent you right over the console in front of him. His hand at the back of your neck, pressing you down, your breath fogging against the glass as he filled you hard and deep. The thought hit so sharp he nearly groaned aloud.

Bucky wasn't doing better, either. 

He swallowed hard, his hearing was sharper than John's. That tiny, choked sound of yours ran through his whole body, because fuck, he could pull ten more out of you without trying. 

His metal arm whirred quietly, plates shifting as if it too was fighting the urge to pin you down. His mind replayed the details cruelly, your lips wet and swollen from the bottle, the flash of your throat tilting back.

He imagined ripping you out of that suit, spreading you across the bench he sat on, thighs open wide, your pulse hammering against his lips as he kissed down your neck. His hands, skin and vibranium, holding your hips open, his mouth drinking in every gasp, every broken moan.

They tried to zone out. To push the thoughts away.

But the smell lingered. The faint, sweet heat of your arousal in the cabin air. Impossible to ignore. Impossible not to want.

Inside, they were both drowning in the same thought. 

If she asks... we're not saying no.

You made your way back to your seat, oblivious to them fighting for the last thread of their restraint. Yelena arched a brow at you.

God, if she only knew how bad it actually was.

"Are you sure everything is fine, Walker?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. 

She had to know if John was going to crash the jet the next time you did something. 

"I said I'm fine, Belova," he didn't turn around from the cockpit, his voice coming through gritted teeth. 

"Looking strong, John." Bucky drawled, leaning back on the bench, his tone mocking. Maybe if he poked John enough, it would distract him from the filthy thoughts invading his own mind. 

Unfortunately, rage bait always worked on John F(ucking) Walker. He turned around in disbelief, like he couldn't believe Bucky, who was going through the same thing, outed him like that. 

"What do you want me to say, Bucky? That I can't stop thinking about bending her over the console until she forgets her own fucking name?" he snapped. "And you better stop pretending you're not thinking the same shit too."

Bucky just bit the inside of his cheek. You stopped breathing. Yelena's eyes went wide. 

"Woah, woah, what the fuck is wrong with you guys?" she scowled, standing up from her bench. She crossed her arms tight over her chest, scanning the three of you. 

She spun to the small metal box you'd taken from the facility. "Okay. Let me check the vials you got."

"Yelena–don't," Bucky was on his feet instantly, but she was already flipping the box's lid open.

The cabin light's made the golden shimmer glisten in the vials. Yelena froze, eyes widening in fear.

"Oh no. No no no no no," she closed the lid and stepped back fast, as her gaze snapped between you, John, and Bucky.

And that's when she caught the faint flecks of gold dust clinging to your suit. To theirs. Barely shining on the fabric, in your hair, faint but unmistakable.

"Oh my god," she whispered, stepping back. Then turned to Bucky. "Is that–?"

"Yeah. It's that." Bucky sighed, resigned. 

Yelena's face went pale. Whatever smugness she'd carried before vanished instantly, replaced by raw panic.

"Oh hell no," she muttered, backing further away, hands up like you were radioactive. "I'm not going through that shit again."

"Again? Yelena, what the fuck is it?" 

You pushed up from your seat, stepping toward her, panicked, and desperate for answers, but she snapped her hands up between you.

"Don't. Don't you dare come closer," she said. "Stay back."

She was already grabbing the emergency gear, yanking a parachute bag, scrambling for the hatch as Bucky paced around. 

"Yelena wait–"

"Oh no, my friend," she said, laughing dryly. Strapping it across her back and chest. "I am not staying for this."

The hatch alarm blasted as Yelena slapped the release. The jet door cracked open with a violent hiss, freezing air howling into the cabin. The sudden force knocked you off balance, you stumbled, arms flailing for support. 

Someone caught you. Hard.

Bucky. 

One palm sat firmly on your waist, while his metal arm steadied your back. The world tilted, and suddenly you were pressed against him. Now you hadn't only felt John's bulge, but Bucky's too. 

God, he's so warm. His hands just fit on my body. If he just slid them lower... 

"Wait–Yelena!" you shouted, gripping his forearm but leaning toward the hatch. "Take me with you!"

Yelena stopped mid strap. She stared amused at you, then at Bucky's hold on you, then back again. 

"Get a hold of this girl, Barnes!" she shouted, her voice cracking over the air. She tugged her parachute tight, shaking her head. "You'd die if you come with me. Trust me. But you're in–" She gestured between the two supersoldiers, smirking. "... very good hands!" 

"See you tomorrow!" she shouted over the noise. 

"Tomorrow!?" you asked in disbelief. She was really jumping god knows where. 

"Come pick me up when you're done!" She braced for the jump, "on a different jet!" and with that, she was gone. 

The hatch kept open for a few seconds before Bucky slammed it shut with a metallic clang, the locks sealing. The wind cut off instantly, you staggered away from Bucky's grasp. 

"Oh my god," you whispered, as you turned slowly. “How long until we get home?” You dared to ask. 

John checked over the radar. “We’re about to fly over France right now. We still got a few hours left.”

A few hours. With two men. 

Two very large, very infected men.

You were so fucked.

Hopefully. 

You didn't have time to get lost in your fantasies at this point. It was like the heat finally caught up to you. The air grew heavier, too warm. Your breath came in shallow bursts as you stumbled backward, fingers fumbling with the collar of your suit like it was strangling you.

God ... it's hot. Why is it so hot?

Your throat burned like you hadn't chugged two bottles of water earlier. Your pulse thudded in your ears. 

And theirs. But they didn't move yet. 

John sat rigid in his seat, knuckles white where he gripped the controls. Bucky had gone back to his bench, leaning forward slightly, eyes locked anywhere but you, like he was tracking you by scent alone. 

Which John certainly was. 

You began to get rid of the extra layers that were choking you. Unzipped the top of your suit, letting it hang on your hips, revealing a tight tank top under it. You ripped your gloves off, dropped any weapons on the floor. 

You braced yourself against the wall of the jet, panting. Every nerve in your body sparked like it was trying to burn itself from the inside out. Your core ached, throbbed, so violently you thought you might cry. 

This was it. This was the moment you died because of some horny glittery dust. 

A small, shaky whimper slipped free as if your body was begging for their hands, their mouths, anything.

John's hands snapped off the controls at the sound. The autopilot clicked on with a sharp beep as he stood, pacing around the cockpit. 

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face. 

"Walker," Bucky warned.

"Tell me I'm not the only one losing my goddamn mind here, Bucky." 

"You're not," Bucky let out a dry laugh, his gaze cutting back to you, and the sound of your fast pulse in his ears. "But you're scaring her."

The problem was, you weren't scared. Not of them. 

If anything, you wished John would just walk over and pin you down on the floor already. Get that iron grip against your neck as he fucked you until you forgot your own name, like he said.

"Sorry," John gritted, still pacing around. 

You almost laughed. Don't apologize. Don't back off. 

"Guys–" your vision blurred, and before you could hold yourself up, you dropped to your knees, then the floor.

Your body gave out.

The last thing you saw was both of them lurching forward at once. Bucky dropped beside you, catching your limp body, while John cradled the back of your head before it hit the floor. Bucky's metal hand tapped your jaw gently, turning your face toward him.

"Hey, hey! stay with us." Bucky urged, voice laced with panic.

Your breathing slowed, too much. Too shallow.

"Bucky, you know this stuff..." John said, eyes darting between him and your body.

Bucky sighed, nodding. "HYDRA ran tests like this, you need release–not just sex, more like ... connection. I can–I can try something." 

Bucky leaned down over your face, and without giving it a second thought he pressed his mouth to yours. It was soft, like he was giving something instead of taking. 

He felt like a goddamn Disney prince giving the princess a true love's kiss to wake her up.

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp into Bucky's lips, blinking to see two faces right there. John hovering holding your head, brows furrowed in concern, and Bucky crouched over you, just inches away from your lips. 

"Bucky..." you whispered voice shaking as your fists knotted into the collar of his suit. It was not rejection, it was plea, trust, desperation. 

"You're safe. We got you." Bucky didn’t pry your hands off his collar, if anything, he let you cling tighter. "What do you need, doll?" he asked softly. His metal hand hovered an inch from your cheek, like he wanted to touch but wouldn't unless you told him to.

"You can tell us, sweetheart." John added. "Whatever you want, we'll make it happen."

Just the thought of 'whatever you want' made your pulse go even faster. 

"Your heartbeat's not right," Bucky pointed out, chuckling. His hand finally came up, brushing the damp hair off your temple. “We can hear what your body wants doll … but we need to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

Bucky’s face softened when you dropped the grip on his collar, your head being cradled by John’s large hand again. His voice was steady, reassuring. 

“We’ll stop right here if you want. You say the word, and we’ll cool off, sit on opposite ends of this jet until we land,” John said. “If you’d rather, I’ll open the damn hatch and jump too.” He chuckled dryly, but he was being honest. 

The weight of their restraint nearly undid you more. Two super soldiers, barely holding themselves back, offering you an out when every vein in their bodies screamed to just take you. 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “We don’t start unless you ask.”

Your lips parted, a broken sound slipping free. 

"I want you–I need you," you whispered. "Both … please John, Bucky … I can’t–“

“Shh– you don’t have to feel bad for asking,” Bucky pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "No more holding back. Not from us. Not from yourself."

You nodded, biting your lip with anticipation. “Touch me–please,” you begged, when he began pulling the rest of the tight suit down your legs. 

“Where, doll?” Bucky asked. “Say it.”

Heat burned your face, but you leaned closer, shameless now.

“Here,” you whispered, dragging his hand down until it pressed against your thigh, fingers almost brushing your drenched panties. “And John–“ your gaze snapped to him, his pupils blown wide. “Pin me down, choke me, something. I don’t care …just don’t stop.”

“You heard her,” Bucky said to John who looked at you in awe, his metal plates whirring as his grip tightened around your thigh. His voice dropped, dark and final. “She asked.”

John nodded, like he’d just been appointed a new mission. He lowered himself fully to the floor, your head pillowed by his thigh. He wrapped his large hand around your neck, your head falling back with a strangled moan, your body arching between them like a live wire, every inch of you begging to be touched, kissed, claimed.

“Easy,” Bucky soothed, holding your hips down as he kissed his way up your thighs. “We got you. Just breathe, doll.”

Your head was still spinning, but their warmth, John’s palm braced on your neck, Bucky’s fingers digging against your thighs, gave you something to cling to.

John was hovering behind you, his broad shoulders filling your vision, his jaw tight. You could see it, he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. Not unless you gave it to him.

So you did.

You fisted the front of his suit and tugged, pulling him down before he could think twice. His mouth crashed against yours in a heat that wasn’t just the pollen, wasn’t just need, it was all about him and what he wanted to do way before today. The kiss was raw, reckless, his beard scratching your skin like he’d been starving for it. 

A groan tore out of him the second your lips pulled away for air. His hand slid from your neck to your mouth, running his thumb over your lower lip. 

You suddenly felt the weight of Bucky’s hand on your hip tighten ever so slightly. He’d been down there, holding you steady while you kissed John in front of him, yet his pupils were blown wide. 

You leaned forward, still half dazed, and met his eyes. He didn’t move, but just like John, you tugged him up to brush your lips against his before pressing harder, hungrier. Bucky’s groan was rougher, deeper, his hand sliding from your hip to cradle the back of your head like he needed leverage. His mouth opened against yours, metal fingers flexing at your waist with a clink of plates, reminding you exactly how strong he was, and how carefully he was holding you now.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, lips swollen from Bucky, John instantly tilted your chin back, claiming the other side of your mouth before you could even catch your breath. Like he couldn’t stand to let Bucky have you without marking his claim too.

Bucky’s hand tightened at your hip at the same time John’s arm caged your waist from behind, their touches overlapping, crowding, making you dizzy.

“You like this, don’t you?” John groaned against your mouth, lips brushing yours with every word. “Being trapped between us.” 

You moaned into his lips, gasping when Bucky’s lips went straight to your collarbone. His hands were the first to slip under your shirt, John’s lips leaving you only for a moment so he could peel it over your head. 

You gasped when the cooler air of the jet kissed your overheated skin, though it was nothing compared to the way John’s rough hand spread across your stomach, pulling you tighter to his chest. Their touches overlapped, fumbled, one stripping what the other left behind. John hooked his fingers in your bra’s clasp, finally freeing your breasts to them. 

Bucky’s eyes burned as they raked over your bare skin, while John took no time to run his hands all over them from behind you. 

Pinned between their bodies, almost entirely undressed and shaking, you thought you might actually combust before either of them even got to your panties, the only piece left. 

“Fucking knew it,” John mumbled against your ear, teeth grazing your skin. “Knew you’d taste this good… look this good…”

“You’re ours now,” Bucky rasped against your skin. John growled in agreement, his hand spreading wide at your hip before sliding lower, pulling you back against him.

“Please– I need … I need more,” you panted. 

"Shhh. I know, doll," Bucky cooed, his hands already working to lay you back down on the floor between them, your head falling once again on John’s lap. "We're gonna make it better."

"You’re gonna let us take care of you, sweetheart?" John teased. 

You nodded frantically, already panting again, your whole body arching toward them. They both reached to unzip their vests, but you stopped them with one hand on each. 

“No! The suits stay on,” you begged, batting your eyelashes at them. “Please…” 

They exchanged a smirk, their cocks straining harder against their pants from your request. 

“Anything for you, doll.” Bucky said, steady metal grip at your hips as he sank to his knees between your thighs. “Shit– you’re dripping already,” he chuckled, his fingers playing over the wet patch on your panties making you shiver. 

John’s mouth found yours before you could even say anything, swallowing your gasp in a rougher kiss. His hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back on his lap so he could take more, deeper, as Bucky slid your panties off with ease. 

The scrape of his stubble against your thighs was the only warning before his hot mouth pressed to you. Your cry was muffled against John’s tongue, the sound caught in his throat as he groaned in return. 

“God, sweetheart,” he said against your lips, “you sound perfect.”

Bucky’s growls vibrated against your wet folds, the kind of sound that made your thighs tremble around his shoulders. His flesh hand locked you in place, forcing you to take every slow, precise stroke of his tongue. 

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Bucky rasped between licks, turning you into a moaning mess. 

John pulled back just far enough to watch your face, his thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. “Look at you… taking that so good. Bet you’d let me fuck that pretty mouth, huh?”

Your whimper was answer enough. He carefully placed your head sideways further down his left thigh, your cheek resting on the rough fabric of his pants. He reached inside his pants to finally pull out his thick, throbbing cock. It sprung up, big, hot and swollen. Being offered right in front of your face like a fucking popsicle. A breath got caught in your throat when you sized him up, biting your lip in anticipation. 

John smirked down at your surprise, and didn’t wait long. He fisted his cock, heavy on his hand, before slapping it a few times around your parted lips, open with the moans coming out from Bucky working down on you. Your head dropped back, but John’s hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he commanded. "Now, be a good girl and open up for me."

And you did, willingly, desperately. His thick cock brushed your lips again and you moaned, sucking him in as far as you could take him. His rhythm was slow at first, like testing your limits, but it didn't take long before the hunger overtook him. 

"Just like that," John grunted, his hand tangled in your hair as you hollowed your cheeks around his speed. "So fucking pretty with your mouth full.”

John’s grip tightened at the back of your head with one hand, the other moving again to wrap around your neck. His groans rumbled low and raw as he fed himself faster into your mouth. His taste, his heat, his weight, every inch of him was overwhelming. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only feel. John’s thick cock in your mouth, Bucky’s relentless lips down on you. The growls and curses vibrating around you, the way your body lit up under their touch.

And God, you wanted more.

"Goddamn," Bucky hissed, sliding his fingers inside you now. "Doll, you’re shaking."

You couldn’t even give him an answer with John deep inside your throat, making your eyes water. 

John groaned above you as you sucked harder, tongue swirling, your moans vibrating against him. "Good girl. Such a good fucking girl … fuck–“ 

Your eyes flicked up, catching the sight of him becoming undone, his chest heaving under that beautiful suit, his mouth hanging open as if he couldn’t breathe without cursing your name.

When he finally came, it was with a growl torn straight from his chest, his grip tightening in your hair as his hips jerked back. The warm liquid filled your mouth, John’s head falling forward to watch you take every single drop. He drove his cock deeper inside you, making sure you choked a little on the cum spilling out of him. 

He finally pulled out, finally letting you gasp for air. He smiled down at the sight of you, lips parted, throat working as you swallowed him. His hand softened immediately after, thumb brushing a leftover drop on your lower lip with surprising gentleness.

Bucky curled his fingers just right after that, claiming the moans coming out of your lips as his now. Reminding you of him. His mouth made your body shake with pleasure, but his eyes, dark, stormy blue were locked on your mouth. On your lips swollen from John. On the way you licked the corner of your mouth without thinking.

John chuckled, still stroking your hair like he’d just claimed you. “What’s the matter, Barnes?” he rasped, voice smug. “Jealous?”

Bucky didn’t even have to answer him, all he had to do was suck on your clit, harder, enough to make you roll your head back on John’s thigh, muffling your moans with your hand over your mouth. 

John chuckled darkly, watching with lazy satisfaction. “Guess he missed your voice, sweetheart,” he said. “Better give it to him nice and loud, then.” He reached your hand covering your mouth, and brought it down to hear you come undone. 

Bucky’s mouth was relentless, sucking, licking, his beard scratching all over. His fingers curling just right. Every sound he pulled from your throat seemed to drive him harder, like he was determined to erase John from your tongue entirely. 

You clawed at his shoulder, a broken cry spilling out of you louder than you meant, louder than you could stop.

“That’s it,” he groaned against you. “That’s the sound I wanted. Don’t hold back from me, doll.”

His metal arm pressed harder into your hip, anchoring you while his right hand slid up your stomach, holding you down. 

“Fuck, Buck–“

You broke.

The first orgasm ripped through you like fire, your thighs trembling violently around his head, your voice echoing in the cabin as you cried out for him. He didn’t stop, he chased every pulse, every shake, his mouth coaxing you through wave after wave until you were left shuddering and boneless in his grip.

Only then did he ease up, his mouth slick, beard wet, his breaths ragged as he finally looked up at you.

“Yeah,” he rasped, a feral grin curling his lips. “That’s mine.”

Behind you, John let out a wrecked laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ… guess Bucky really wanted to hear you scream, sweetheart.”

You panted there trembling, your body still twitching from the aftershocks, and knew without a doubt, you weren’t even close to being finished yet.

Before you could even catch your breath, Bucky was rising up to his knees, wiping his chin with his leather sleeve. He was the one who grabbed your body from the floor, carrying you over to the bench he’d been sitting before. He placed your knees there, John already walking behind you to pop your ass up for him, as Bucky lined himself up with your mouth. 

"You're doing so good doll.” Bucky praised. “You want more?"

You nodded, lips parted, panting.

He stood next to the bench, tugging at his belt with one hand, never breaking eye contact. You licked your lips, and that was it, he groaned, pulling his cock out like he couldn’t take another second. You drooled for him as much as you did for John. Bucky’s heavy length rested on his hand as he drove it to your mouth. 

When you wrapped your lips around him, his entire body shuddered, like he was finally getting some release. A sound ripped out of him, his metal hand finding the back of your head, holding you steady but careful, always careful.

“Jesus fuck,” he growled, his thighs tightening as your mouth slid deeper. “Such a perfect little mouth.”

Behind you, John lined himself up to your entrance, with a smirk curving his mouth as he watched.

“Told you she’s good, Bucky. Ruins you, doesn’t she?”

Bucky’s answering growl vibrated through his chest. His hand clenched tight in your hair as his hips stuttered forward, losing control just like John did.

You choked a gasp on his cock as John pushed himself with a harsh snap of his hips, The stretch was everything you wanted, everything you needed. 

Your hands dug into the bench, muscles trembling, back arched as John slammed into you from behind.

“Fuck,” John groaned behind you, sliding deeper, hands gripping your hips so tight it felt like he’d leave bruises. “You feel… you feel like heaven.”

Your body rocked forward with every thrust, Bucky’s hand anchoring you as he pushed faster each time. Your lips slid wet and hot around him, your tongue tracing every inch, and the thickness of him filled you until your jaw ached. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Bucky hissed, his hips moving deeper until he made you gag around his length. “Good little doll… so perfect between us.” 

John’s thrusts picked up, rougher now, and he leaned forward, mouth at your ear, voice thick. “You want both of us to come inside you, huh? Fill you up till you can’t walk?”

You whimpered around Bucky’s cock, your body shaking with overstimulation.

“Gonna fill you real good, doll. Over and over. We know you need it.” Bucky groaned, eyes glazed, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

John shifted slightly, one hand reaching between your thighs to rub perfect circles over your clit. Your head fell forward, your body already tightening, the promise of what was coming sending you right to the edge.

“Come for us first. Show us how bad you want it.”

You cried out, muffled by Bucky’s dick on your mouth, shattered, clenching around both of them as your orgasm hit you mercilessly. But they didn’t stop. If anything, they accelerated their paces. 

“Gonna come down your throat, doll. Ready to swallow?” his metal fingers flexed at your jaw, steadying you. 

Your muffled moan around him was enough. His breath hitched, his rhythm broke, and he spilled his cum deep in your throat in a few ragged thrusts. You swallowed him down, all of it, and when he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed your jaw with tenderness, you just smiled up at him, cum drunk at this point. 

John anchored you back to reality when his thrusts stuttered, hips jerking against you, and then he groaned, as he spilled inside you too. His grip bruised your hips, holding you tight against him as he ground deep, chasing every last pulse. Making sure you could feel him inside for days. 

“Shit–“ you blurted, breathless, your body flopping down on the bench. 

But that itch, that goddamn itch from the gold dust still tingled across your body. You were still trembling, thighs weak from John, when Bucky reached down and hooked an arm around your waist.

“C’mere, doll,” he rasped, hauling you up as he sat on the bench. Your back hit his vest as he pulled you into his lap, his thighs spread wide beneath you.

You gasped as the head of his cock pressed against your slick heat, the aftershocks still sparking through your body.

“Ride me,” he ordered, metal hand braced at your hip, the other sliding up your chest to hold you tight to him. His breath burned against your ear as he whispered, “show Walker how good you look bouncing on my cock.”

You sank down slowly, your walls clenching hard around him. His grip tightened on your waist, guiding your hips until you were moving, grinding, lifting, sinking again.

“Fuck–“ his head tipping back, “that’s it, good doll.”

John crouched low in front of you, blue eyes burning as he watched you slide down onto Bucky. Your arms reached instantly to John’s biceps to hold yourself, his hand clamping around your thigh to keep you steady, and somewhere in the middle of it Bucky huffed out a laugh, lips brushing your back.

“You two ever think–“ he groaned the thought with a sharp thrust that made you gasp, “–this jet’s a little cramped?”

John snapped his head from your body to him, “Now you wanna bring that up?”

“I’m just saying …” he panted, still moving, “…she deserves better than this bench.”

You wanted to smile, but all you could do was a grimace from how good Bucky was hitting that spot, all while talking to John. 

“Better where?” John asked, his hands going up to hold your arms when you dug your nails on his. 

Bucky’s gaze flicked to the cockpit radar. “Are we still in France?”

John leaned just enough to check the flashing map “Yeah…right over Paris.”

His eyes darted back to you immediately, barely holding yourself up as Bucky snapped his hips up. All undone and pliant in their hands, and the thought of laying you out somewhere soft to fuck you properly was suddenly all he could picture.

“Perfect.” Bucky replied, a grin on his face “Doll… we’re taking you to Paris.”

John swore he’d never look at the pilot’s seat the same again, not after the way you’d ended up in his lap there, nails dug into his shoulders while the jet screamed warnings he ignored. Bucky’s growl in your ear had been the only reason you didn’t send the whole aircraft plummeting. Somehow … somehow John got the damn thing down while you moaned on his lap. 

And then came the sneaking. Three supposed superheroes trying to look normal as you slipped through the Paris night, tactical suits hidden under heavy coats. All to end up on a semi decent hotel off the main boulevard, with a bored concierge who didn’t ask questions when John slapped down the shiny avenger’s card on the counter. 

“Room for three,” he told the concierge, a boyish grin on his face. “One bed.”

Bonus

Feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

[ballard96]

[arminslutss]

STUDIOUS - A. ARLERT

Summary: Armin Arlert- your trusted tutor and close friend. When you go to his dorm for another tutoring session, you find out he’s done a little too much studying of the female anatomy.

Content: nerd!armin, smut, virgin!armin, p in v penetration, no use of condom, not proofread

“Hey. You did really well today.” Armin whispered, hand gently rubbing your shoulder.

Face wet with tears, you muster a smile and turn your head to look at him. God, this was embarrassing. Absolutely losing your shit over math? In front of your cute tutor?

“Don’t feel embarrassed.” Armin adds, like he was reading your mind. “Everyone has their academic struggles. Math can be hard, I get it.”

Liar.

There was no way Armin had ever struggled with math as much as you have. After all, he’s tutoring you in it.

“Yeah. Thanks, Armin.” You wipe your face with the back of your hand, closing your laptop and book, packing them away in your bag.

It wasn’t his fault, but Armin felt horrible. As your tutor and friend, he was willing to do whatever possible to make sure you understand the concepts.

Armin stands up with you, catching your hand before you leave. “Hold on.”

You stop, turning to back to Armin. “Hm?”

“Listen, why don’t you, um… come to my dorm tomorrow? Eren is going to be out with Mikasa all night, so we’ll have privacy for more tutoring.”

After taking a moment to consider Armin’s offer, you nod. “Fine with me. I have some other work I need to finish, though. Is seven okay?”

Armin nods, letting go of your hand so you could get on your way. “Yeah, that’s alright!”

You smile at him again, giving Armin a small wave before leaving the library. He returned the gesture before sitting back down, already thinking about tomorrow night.

You had been over to Armin’s dorm before, so there was nothing different about it this time around.

Armin didn’t remember feeling this jittery about it, though.

“Sasha,” you look over at your best friend, who is sprawled on her bed, lazily typing something. “Can we move our boardwalk night to the one after tomorrow?”

Sasha looks over at you, brow raised. “Depends on why we have to.”

“It’s because I’m going to Armin’s dorm tomorrow night for more tutoring.” This catches Sasha’s attention - she’s sitting up now.

“Oooh, a date? It’s about time.” She giggles. A look of confusion flashed across your face. You walk over to your bed, unpacking your backpack.

“What do you mean by that?” Sasha gets up, going over to you and grabbing your shoulders from behind.

“I mean,” she starts, smirk getting wider. “I see how you two interact, and I see this trope playing out. Starts as your cute, smart tutor, you guys become friends…”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face her. “Whatever you’re thinking will not happen. I can think someone is on the better-looking side without liking them.”

Sasha shrugs, returning to her bed. “Think what you want.”

You scoff, climbing up into your own bed for a quick power nap; but Sasha’s words lingered in the back of your mind as you drifted off.

“So, how much time will you need for tutoring and fucking?” Eren teases. Armin turns to face him, looking almost horrified.

“Eren! T-that’s not what’s going to happen! She just needs more tutoring, that’s all!”

Eren chuckles, tossing his head back. “I think I know what you’re tutoring her in.” Armin’s face is bright red now, and he’s looking down at the floor.

“Seriously, though. Mikasa and I leave at 6:30, and as much as I love her, her social battery can drain pretty quickly depending on the day. So, how long will you two need?”

Armin looks up, taking a second to think. “Uh… until 9:30?” It sounds more like a question than an answer.

“I’ll stay out of your way until 10.” Eren gives Armin a small punch on the shoulder.

“Quick lesson time, Armin. Always be respectful, give her whatever she needs, and immediately back off and ask if she’s okay if she looks uncomfortable.”

“I’d do all that in the first place.” Armin mutters, slowly starting to get annoyed.

“Oh, one more thing.” Eren reached into his desk for something, grinning. “Take this.”

He grabs Armin’s hand, pushing something small into it. One glance and Armin knows it’s a condom.

“What the hell, Eren.” He’s back to blushing now, but he doesn’t give the condom back.

“Hopefully it fits. Always use one of those, though. Lifesavers.”

“Do me a favor and don’t delve into your sex life with Mikasa for me.”

Eren looks offended, as if Armin were losing a once-in-a-lifetime lesson by not letting him talk anymore. Armin shoves the condom into his backpack, muttering something about ‘keeping Eren’s words in mind’.

Armin’s nerves are shooting through the roof all of the next day, only worsening when it hit two minutes past seven and you hadn’t knocked on his door yet.

He fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt, replaying Eren’s words from the evening before. The condom he was gifted still sat in his backpack, which was neatly tucked next to his desk.

Then you knocked.

Armin hurried over to the door, calming down when he was met with the sight of your smiling, kind face.

“Hey, Armin. Thanks for this, you really didn’t have to.”

Stepping into his dorm, you take off your shoes, looking around. Armin’s side was evident - anime and video game posters covered the wall.

“Don’t worry about it. You can come to me any time.” Armin ushered around, pulling the chair from Eren’s desk and sitting it next to his own. “Have a seat. Do you have your book?”

You nod, sitting down and flipping open to the page you were studying yesterday.

Armin's steady finger slowly moved across the textbook, pointing out key words and example equations. Your eyes were hardly ever on the pages; instead, they were focused on Armin's face.

His glasses drooping down to the tip of his nose, his blonde hair falling perfectly around his face, pink lips gently uttering words that didn't even process in your mind.

Armin paused, looking over at your transfixed expression.

"Are you alright?"

You blink, sitting up straighter in a flash. "Oh, yeah. Hey, Armin, why don't we, uh... pause?"

Armin raises an eyebrow, eyes curious. "Pause? We just started."

Instead of answering, you think back to yesterday's encounter with Sasha. Perhaps you could turn this into a date; even you couldn't deny the attraction and respect you held for Armin.

That's why your lips were on his before you had a second to think.

Armin's body froze up--were you seriously doing this?

Closing his eyes, Armin leaned forwards, pressing his lips deeper into your own, the flavor of your sweet chapstick making its way to his tastebuds.

You pull away just as your tongues fully intertwine, noticing the way Armin's face immediately dropped.

"Can we go to your bed? This chair is hurting my back."

You didn't have to tell him twice. Armin pulled you up, dragging you both on top of his mattress.

In the midst of sloppy kisses, clothes are ripped off and tossed onto the floor without a single care. Armin’s hands roam up your bare back, holding you steady to keep kissing him, your hard nipples pressing against his chest only feeding his growing erection.

Pulling away for breath, you look down at his bright, blushing face. “Are you a virgin, Armin?”

His face grows hotter, and he nods, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t be ashamed.” You giggle, brushing a strand of blonde hair away from his eye. “I still would be too if it wasn’t for a stupid decision I made a few years ago.”

Sitting up, you tug at the waistband of his boxers. “What do you say we take these off?”

Armin’s expression is a mixture of arousal, shock, and nervousness. He nods again, but stops before you can take them off.

“W-wait! I have to get something.” He mumbles, getting out of bed to go over to his backpack, grabbing the condom Eren had given him. You let out an amused laugh, recognizing the metallic wrapper.

“You came prepared, huh? You knew this would happen?”

Armin waves his hands in front of him, condom clutched between this thumb and palm. “No, I swear! This was Eren’s stupid idea, he gave it to me…”

“I see.” You notice Armin tentatively pulling down his boxers, hands shaky.

His cock sprang free, pretty and leaky; you almost drooled at the sight of his pink tip covered in precum.

Stretching your legs straight, you slide your own panties off, pussy half-visible to Armin, and you swear you see his cock grow. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

Armin shuffles back onto the bed, ripping the condom open, silently praying that it would fit, that he and Eren were close in size.

“I’m on the pill.” You blurt out. It was the truth, but you were also dying to feel Armin raw inside of you.

Armin pauses. “But shouldn’t we still…?” All it takes is for him to see you shake your head no for him to drop the condom to the ground.

He pulls you under him, somewhat confident for a virgin.

Armin’s trembling hands reach for your thighs, spreading them open for him to take a look. It seemed pretty similar to the female sexual diagrams he has studied before you came over, except your pussy looked ten times better.

He’s salivating at the view in front of him, now nothing but desperate to get balls deep into your pussy.

“Do you know where to go?” You let Armin lift your legs up higher.

He nods. “I’ve done my studying.” Even though he was quite shy about admitting the research he had done, Armin sure wasn’t ashamed.

“Really?” You wouldn’t be surprised if Armin was telling the truth. The way he slung your legs over his shoulders to correctly position himself was big enough of a hint.

With a shaky breath, Armin positioned himself at your entrance, wet tip prodding your hole. As long as he didn’t cum quick, everything would be okay; but that was much easier said than done.

He almost loses it the second you took him in past his tip, your pretty pussy squeezing him just right. Armin’s hips stuttered at the new sensations, his body practically screaming that he was a virgin.

“Take your time.” You whisper, a small whimper falling from your lips when he continues to push forwards.

Armin settles once he’s all the way inside your walls, long dick filling up every bit of space you had. His hips roll in small, calculated movements, testing the waters to see how long he could hold out.

It’s been a long time since then.

Sweat drips from Armin’s forehead onto your skin, your cunt stuffed full of his loads.

Armin didn’t know how to use his dick, not until the raw, animalistic instincts of sex kicked in.

Now he was pounding relentlessly into your sore pussy, pretty moans and whimpers mixed in with the lewd sounds of sex.

“Ah, A-Armin!” You cry out, eyes shut tight, back arching up off the mattress. His glasses were long strewn aside, but his blurry vision was still carefully fixated on your tits bouncing with every sharp thrust.

Armin pulls out and shoved his cock back in, tip hitting right up against your sweet spot, drawing you closer to release.

You’ve lost count of how many times you and Armin had both came. Four? Five? It didn’t matter. He was fucking you so good, you were seeing stars.

“I’m gonna c-cum!” Armin moans out, hips moving at a sloppy, fast pace, slapping against your own.

Cum squirted out of the sides of your hole each time Armin thrusted back in, the slick mess coating his dick making it harder to keep steady.

Reaching down, you massage your clit, sending you over the edge once again.

Clamping down hard on his cock, you cum hard, more of your sticky liquid coating his dick, a frothy ring of white forming around his base.

“Oh my god!” Armin gives one final, hard thrust into your pussy, shooting another fat load of cum into your hole. He pulls out, finally spent from all the fucking.

Armin lowers your legs, keeping them spread so he could take two thumbs and open the folds of your pussy, watching stupid amounts of cum drip out on onto the blankets.

He runs a thumb up your sensitive slit, listening to your whimpers as he does.

Licking his thumb clean, Armin takes a second to savor your sweet taste. “You taste delicious.”

“T-thank you.” You hand Armin his glasses.

This is the first time he’s seeing you clearly—your chest rapidly rising and falling, the cum seeping from your folds, the rosy tint on your cheeks. The sight is ethereal.

Armin collapses next to you, completely and utterly fucked out from your elongated session of intimacy, his body still shaking. Slowly, you turn your head to him, ready to ask the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind.

“Armin, are you sure you were a virgin?”

[girlboybug]

Creep

Armin's got a thing for the new sorority pledge. | artist : juvianism

part two

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, piv, perv!nerdmin ftw, heavy petting, fingering, m!masturbation, oral f!receiving, blowjobs/facefucking, unprotected sex/unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it!) cumshots, mentions of creampie, armin has a tongue piercing, dacryphilia, size kink, dubcon

TRIGGER WARNINGS: heavyyy on the dubcon, armin is a lying ass manipulator here, could possibly be seen as coercion? pls dont read and/or engage if you're sensitive to these things.

pairing : armin arlert x reader

word count : 9k

what's playing 🎧 : the party & the after party by the weeknd

a/n : hiii guys as u can see i've def fallen back into my old anime era hehe, i rlly hope u enjoy, if u do pls lmk in the comments! i also posted this on a new ao3 acc i made, my user is p0lkadotted if u want to support me and my future works on there :) anyway, happy belated bday to my angel armin, mwah !

A pair of intrigued blue eyes had been tracking your every movement since you entered the party, immediately curious to know more about you. His intrigue was instant; the second you breached the entrance with your sorority, your face was the only one that stuck out from the crowd.

He was able to see the reflective glint of your pledge button pinned to your costume as you entered, his sense of intrigue only heightening.

New meat.

There were a couple other girls with the same button clipped to their costumes, but Armin didn’t care. No, he was only interested in you and knew his target was locked. 

He watched with an endearing but patronizing gaze as this new pretty little pledge attempted to veil her nervousness from being in a seemingly new setting, behind the facade of confidence.

He watched you strut across the congested living room filled from wall to wall with drunk 20 something year olds, attempting to hold your head up high when he could sense that all you wanted was to disappear.

“You ever actually gonna go up to her or are you just gonna stare at her all night?” Eren asked, breaking Armin out of focus by ducking down slightly to reach his ear, one finger plugging his own while his available arm slung loosely around Mikasa’s waist.

Armin glanced over at Eren with a knowing look, a self assured smile faintly crossing his lips, responding over the blasting music.

“I have a plan.” He replied with a shrug, sipping from his vodka and sprite. 

“You shouldn’t have to formulate a plan for something so simple, Armin. Just go up to her.” Mikasa added, slightly curling her hand around the side of her mouth, raising her voice above the loud collective drone of people surrounding the area.

Armin sighed, finishing the last of his drink, pushing the empty cup into Eren’s chest, sparing his two friends a smug, sideways glance before he spoke.

“I have a plan.” He repeated, cockier this time. His eyes found your figure once more, and knew the plan in question was already going into effect. He left his friends without another word, weaving his way through the sweaty mass of people, and heading directly over to you.

He had bided his time and waited until you were inevitably left on your own, abandoned by your sorority sisters, leaving you available for him to approach.

“Hi,” He called out, pulling your attention over to him. You turned around, a small smile spreading over your face when your eyes adjusted amidst the dark space and onto the person before you.

The only beacon of light within the stuffed frat house were the streaming violet and blue flood lights, its deep saturation illuminating the nameless stranger’s face, aiding you in making out his features. 

He’s cute. 

He gathered you didn’t mind the sight of him, an intrigue of your own sparking in your pretty eyes. Either that or you were relieved to no longer be by yourself at what he assumed was probably your first party here. He didn’t mind if that was the case, he’d let you use him for company all you wanted.

“Hi,” you repeated, shifting your weight onto one foot, your fingers nervously twitching around your cup. He noticed this little detail of course. He noticed everything.

“I’m Armin, I just wanted to say that I like your costume,” he complimented kindly, his gaze dragging over you and admiring the way your costume was nearly painted onto your body.

You were a deer, how fitting. You grinned, taking his compliment purely, glancing down at it before flickering back over to him, your eyes flitting over his costume. You introduced yourself, pausing for a beat, mustering some bravery to compliment him back before responding.

“Thank you! I-I like yours too! Cloud right? From Final Fantasy?” He raised a brow, nodding in confirmation, a mix of awe and adoration striking his chest. “Thank you! Do you play?” he asked, hoping you would say yes. When you confirmed that you indeed played, he nearly felt his knees buckle in on him.

“That’s cool,” He smiled, pretending that this little piece of information about you didn’t make his cock twitch.

“I just got the Final Fantasy remastered pixel series, maybe one day you can come over to my dorm and we can game together?” He offered with a slight welcoming nudge of his shoulder and a tempting smile, testing the waters with a bit more eagerness than he originally planned.

Initially, he was supposed to slowly turn up the heat little by little before you even realized you were burning at all. 

But he couldn’t help himself, at the end of the day he was just a dork who got hard at the drop of a hat whenever a pretty girl shared his interests. 

Despite the fact that his forwardness went a little over your head, it still left you a little flustered, left your heart thudding that much harder and for words to suddenly be a little harder to piece together. But overall it didn’t put you off. Not in the slightest.

So far so good.

“I’d like that,” you beamed with an air of gentleness, and Armin felt confidence balloon in his chest at how well things were going with you.

“Y’know I almost wasn’t even going to be Cloud, I was originally going to be Link but, my friend Eren said it’d be too dorky so, this was my next best option.” He laughed, rolling his eyes at the memory. You gasped in mild shock, furrowing your brows with a tilt of your head. 

“Legend of Zelda is sick, your friend must not have taste,” you chided, feigning disdain towards the newly mentioned Eren. And Armin would have been lying through his teeth if he said your little display and shared love for Legend of Zelda didn’t make him want to bend you over right there and stuff you full of him. 

Before he could respond, you continued on. “I mean, your Cloud is still amazing, but you would’ve made for a perfect Link,” You sighed with faux disappointment, your eyes dragging over him once more. “Do you always do what your friends tell you to?” you hummed wryly, a small mischievous curl in the corner of your lips.

Oh?

Armin enjoyed receiving a little ribbing from you, relishing in how cute you are when you tease. He wondered how far that trait of yours went.

He chuckled, pursing his lips with a slow nod, taking that little playful hit of yours while his tongue poked his inner cheek. He made it a point to let his eyes linger over your pledge button before shifting back to yours, knowing full well what both fraternities and sororities alike, put their pledges through. 

“You really wanna talk about letting people tell you what to do?” He pushed back, folding his arms over his chest loosely, challenging you right back. He didn’t miss the way you watched his arms flex slightly from the casual movement, having suddenly felt immense gratitude that he had been letting Eren drag him along to the gym with him every weekend. 

You nearly conceded in that moment, a faint smile of defeat spreading across your lips as you looked away, taking a swig from your cup. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you waved him off, huffing with pretend annoyance. He exhaled humorously, enjoying this back and forth with you. 

“So are you telling me that you don’t belong to this frat?” You questioned with faux suspiciousness, narrowing your eyes at him in a way he found devastatingly cute. He snorted, shaking his head an affirmative ‘no.’

“Oh God no, my major and extracurriculars are too demanding and time consuming to get involved with something like a frat.” You tilted your head, a soft hum of wonder leaving past your lips at his answer.

“Oh? And what’s takin’ up all your time then?” You asked, having felt more and more drawn into him the longer you were with him, much to Armin’s glee. 

“I’m a comp-sci major and I’m on the swim team.” He answered and immediately your mind flashed with very self indulgent images of him shirtless and in tight swim trunks, diving into the pool on campus.

Dear God you definitely had to go to one of his meets.

“You sound like a busy guy,” you responded, peering at him from behind the rim of your cup, taking another sip to hide the fact you were a little too excited upon finding out this morsel of information.

“How’d you manage to find the time to come to a party?” He exhaled humorously at your question, pursing his lips through a small smile, a slight shrug dropping in his shoulders.

“The same friend who convinced me to not be Link dragged me here.” He sighed with a light chuckle, shaking his head until the tail-end of his laugh cut short, pretending as if he just suddenly realized something. 

He glanced around you, feigning a slightly concerned confusion at your lack of company. “Speaking of friends, where’re your sorority sisters? Or did you come by yourself?” he asked, knowing full well that you had arrived with them. You huffed like a kicked puppy, shaking your head with a dejected little ‘no’ like he knew you would.

“No, we came together but, one by one they all kinda ditched me here. Well, save for my friend Sasha, I think she actually just got lost in the crowd,” you explained, and Armin nodded, listening intently, pretending to be saddened for you when in reality, your string of bad luck was disguised as his good fortune. 

He clicked his tongue, a glint of metal in the center of his tongue catching your eye. You went still for a moment, the sight caused a low stir in the pit of your belly and a little thrum in your clit, your mind immediately jumping to the obscene.

You slowly snapped out of it when he shook his head with an insincere commiseration, reminding you that then was not the time to be fantasizing about his face between your thighs while he was literally standing in front of you. 

“That’s a shame, would’ve figured that they’d know better than to leave a new pledge here by herself.” He tch’d with an artificial breath of disappointment towards your sorority sisters. Your back went somewhat straight at that, eyes flickering across his face as if an explanation would be written in his features.

“Wh..Why do you say that?” you asked, sounding more meek than you intended. “They didn’t tell you?” He questioned, leaning a little closer now, fake sympathy that you took as genuine etched across his downcast gaze. You shook your head, hanging off of his words with nervous anticipation.

“No, why? Is there something that’s gonna happen?” You questioned anxiously, your eyes darting around as if a threat will make itself known suddenly. He had to hold back a humorous exhale at your cautiousness, forcing himself to stick with his story. 

“Well, yes and no. Some of the frat guys like to pick off the new pledge girls, they pretend it isn’t the case but they present them with two options, hook up or get hazed.” He explained, watching you grimace with disgust and shock, a visible look of betrayal flashing through your eyes at the notion that your so-called sisters would not only leave you in an environment like this, but let alone bring you to one.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” you breathed out, shaking your head, full of disdain at the information.

“Unfortunately,” he nodded, his voice carrying an air of feigned disappointment towards the made up story he fed you. “I hope the other girls are okay…” You trailed off, peeking behind him to try and find some of the other girls you pledged with. 

He stiffened, gently moving in front of your wandering eyes, his hands coming up to soothingly squeeze your arms. “I’m sure they’ll be okay, my friend that I mentioned earlier and a couple of our other friends usually keep a good eye out during these things. I’m confident if anyone tries anything, they’ll make sure that it doesn’t come to fruition.” He reassured you, his hands were warm on your skin, lulling you back down to earth with him. Your diligent, searching eyes fell back to him, exhaling a low sigh under your breath. 

“Okay…” you trailed off quietly, your brows drawing together in a way that read as both sweet and pathetic, your eyes flickering between his with a silent plea before you even spoke. You didn’t need to at that point, Armin already knew that he had you hook line and sinker.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated but…if you don’t mind… would you stay with me tonight? U-Until I can find at least one of my sisters here, then I can maybe look for more of us with her and be out of your hair.” 

Oh you made this so easy. Poor thing, he almost felt bad. Almost. He shook his head gently, shushing you with lightheartedness and dismissing your guilt of being a burden with ease.

“Be in my hair, it’s okay. I don’t mind at all.” He chuckled softly, running his hands up and down your arms comfortingly. You smiled, exhaling a breath of relief at his reassurance, putting more trust into him than you should. 

“Do you wanna go upstairs for a bit? Just to get away from all the mess down here?” He murmured, his tone as delicate and dulcet in your ear as he could make it amidst the ear-ringingly loud music. His lips brushed against your hair as he leaned down, his cologne wafting around you from how close he was.

Sea breeze and a hint of eucalyptus, paired with the faint scent of alcohol and mint on his breath; you assumed the mint was to cover the slight smell of cigarettes you caught too. 

Almost hazily, you agreed, too lost in his honeyed words and his intoxicating air to consider why that might not be a good idea. He didn’t wait for you to think twice about it, taking your hand in his and guiding you through the ocean of people in your path.

He trailed behind you up the staircase, a hand politely and protectively at the small of your back, glancing back down at the party and laughing to himself when he sees Eren gawking at him leading you upstairs. 

Eren’s finger motioned between the two of you, surprised that his best friend actually managed to go through with what he figured to be a ridiculous and overly-thought out plan. Armin shrugged smugly, his eyes flitting up at you, ensuring your gaze was still pointed up the steps before he looked back down at Eren.

He made a jerking motion towards his mouth, poking his tongue into his cheek with every flick of his wrist, a smirk curled in the corner of his lips. Providing a visual as to what he assumed would occur later in the night with you.

Eren rolled his eyes, grimacing half heartedly at his friend’s lewdness. Armin flipped him off, brimming with cockiness, then turned back to you, tilting his head and letting you climb the steps a little further than him. He managed to catch a peek at your white panties under your short skirt, admiring the view before picking up the pace and following close behind you. 

Once you made it upstairs he took your hand once more, pushing past the people in your way with ease, the upper level carrying far less people than it held downstairs. You had followed his lead, letting him guide you past the hallway, while you stood idly behind him, watching as he pushed open a couple doors until he landed on a room that was the least filthiest. He ushered you inside and shut the door with his heel once you were both in.

You wandered into a stranger’s bedroom, unaware of the watchful stare behind you. He drank in every little move you made, the way you carried yourself, the way you wavered about nervously, like the reality of his intentions all along might’ve been finally surfacing your mind. 

But when you turned around, and smiled a real smile at him, he concluded you hadn’t yet, and he was still in the clear. Your willingness and overall trust for him prompted a somewhat arrogant thought in his mind.

Someone’s got a crush.

He concluded internally, stepping towards you while returning your grin with one of his own. It wasn’t like he minded, far from it. He liked you too, in his own…unique way.

If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble to get you alone. He wouldn’t have sent distractions to pluck off your sorority sisters one by one, he wouldn’t have enlisted Connie to (unknowingly) separate Sasha from your side, and he wouldn’t have come up with that story about the ‘hook up or haze’ thing with the frat guys.

Well, to be fair, he did truly find most of the frat guys downstairs to be complete sleeze-bags, save for Eren and Reiner. And he supposes Connie… but Connie isn’t even in the frat. The point is, most of the guys downstairs are assholes.

But he’s not!

His lie very well could’ve been the truth. In all honesty, he wouldn’t put it past those guys to do something like that. So really, he was protecting you from a very real, very possible danger. At the end of the day, there couldn’t be a safer guy to be around than him. 

You plopped onto the edge of the bed, kicking off your heels that you’d been dying to take off all night, watching as Armin joined you, the bed dipping beneath him as he sat. Your thighs were flush together, prompting you to pretend that the feeling of his thigh pressed to yours and the warmth that came with it didn’t make your chest get tight and stomach flutter.

His proximity to you alone expelled the type of heat across your cheeks that only ever comes with the rush of jitters from being around someone new and exciting.

“Thank you for staying with me, I know the last thing most people would want is to babysit a freshman,” you said, turning slightly to look at Armin, your voice as soft as the air between you both. He shook his head, reaching down to squeeze your knee, taking note as to how your leg twitched to be closer to his, fighting back the urge to let his smug smile grow. 

“Stop apologizing,” he hushed you, his hand slipping away from your knee and letting your skin grow cold without his touch, wanting you to subconsciously start seeking it out on your own. “I’m not babysitting you, I like talking with you.” He promised, and his words were actually truthful, he did enjoy talking to you, and he didn’t feel like he was babysitting you. No he plotted on you, but that was the part that didn’t need to be said aloud. 

You glanced down, too flustered to maintain eye contact. Instead opting for looking at your dangling sock covered feet, the lace frills around your ankles shimmering from the moonlight that was peeking in.

“I like talking to you too,” you admitted like a schoolgirl confessing to her crush, and Armin grinned, his head tilting to the side while he looked down at your lack of a reciprocated stare.

“Yeah?” he murmured amusedly, his palms splayed behind him, leaning back slightly on the bed. You finally hulled your eyes back up to his, your breath halting in your throat at the way he’s laid out beside you.

He didn’t look like the other guys who’ve attempted the ‘casually sexy’ seduction route with you – no, Armin was actually just hot, all without trying. It made you nervous, and he loved it, loved how you were responsive to just about everything he did.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling and dragging your stare away from his fit and toned midriff and back up to his eyes. He caught the look in your eyes, caught the way you checked him out and how you quickly tried snapping out of it, and it made his cock stir in his pants, impatience beginning to impede into his veins.

Despite that, he knew he had to continue following the rules of operation. 

“By the way, I never asked you, what’s your major?” He asked, nudging your knee with his. You sighed, a small guilty smile spreading across your face. “I’m still undecided,” you winced slightly, as if you’re worried he’ll judge you for not having decided yet. He shrugged simply, pulling himself forward and towards you again, his knee still pressed to yours, and you found yourself hoping he didn’t move away.

“That’s okay, you still have time. It’s better to take your time figuring out what you want to devote all your time to rather than having to switch. My friend Connie switched four times, and still isn’t satisfied.” He laughed softly, trying to take the importance off of your decision so that it seemed less intimidating.

Reassuring you came so easy to him, and he meant all of the kind words he said and all it did was make you melt further into the palms of his hands. You just weren’t aware of the lies, but you didn’t need to be, they were simply a necessary evil you’d come to appreciate in time. That is, if you ever found out. And he doesn’t plan for you to.

“Yeah, you’re right, I think I’m just so scared of picking wrong that I can’t commit to one,” you explained, shoulders slumped with stress. He brought his hand behind your back, gently circling over your skin with his large palm, breathing life into your flesh, nearly tinging you from the contact. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon, you’re a smart girl.” He added assuringly, and you tried your hardest to not suck in a sharp breath at his gentle praise, your lower tummy stirring with something akin to want. You turned to look back at him, your eyes falling to his parted lips, feeling way more distracted than you should have been.

“Did um…” you pointed shyly at your own mouth, motioning towards your tongue. “Did that hurt?” He felt nearly triumphant at your question, gauging an idea as to where your thoughts were due to the sheepish way you asked. He stuck out his tongue, leaning a little closer to you and letting you get a better look at it before withdrawing it back into his mouth to speak, much to your dismay.

“It wasn’t so bad, about the equivalent to a papercut,” He explained, watching your eyes widen with awe. “Wow, you must have a pretty good pain tolerance then,” you murmured, your eyes still trying to catch a peek at the way the metal glints ever so slightly. “Nah, the piercing itself just wasn’t too bad. The healing though?” He exhaled, shaking his head at the memory.

“That was gruesome. Could hardly eat anything besides bland soup, anything remotely spicy would’ve killed me for sure.” He chuckled, taking in your sudden fixation on his piercing, wondering just how long it's been on your mind for. 

“That sucks, I bet it.. it hurt to do a lot while it was healing.” You added, attempting to swallow down the inappropriate feelings that were arising from the seemingly innocent topic. Armin didn’t need that from you though, there were better things he could’ve had you swallow.

For the time being, he just nodded in agreement, pretending like he couldn’t tell that you were dying to hear less about what his piercing prevented him from doing and more about what it could do. What it could do for you. He leaned in a little closer to you, brushing his arm with yours, sensing how these small fleeting touches made you crave more. And whether it was a subconscious or surface level craving, he knew it was there. 

He took note of how you never moved away from his experimental contact and if anything, leaned closer into each one. Your micro expressions and actions aren’t something most people would be able to pick up on, they could easily be imperceptible to just about anyone else. However, Armin wasn't like most people. No, he could read you from a mile away. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t really speak properly without it hurting, even resting it against the roof of my mouth kind of hurt for the first few days.” You frowned, a gentle sympathy pointed towards him, though beneath it held a baseline of curiosity. “Sounds like you were out of commission for a while then,”

Are you still?

The unasked question hung in the air, and Armin could hear it in the way you trailed off, like you were hoping he’d fan the flames of your hope and assure you that his tongue could be well within use. So he gave you just that.

“I was. But it's been healed for a handful of months now. So, safe to say it’s fully back in commission.” He murmured low and hushed, an offer threaded in his words. He watched you from under his lashes, flickering down your body, taking note of the way you tense at that statement, like you weren’t expecting him to give you the exact answer you wanted but couldn’t muster the courage to ask for. 

Your chest got a little tight, the strings of anticipation and desire tugging on your insides and rendering you to pause for a beat, unsure of how to respond. Your heart was beating too hard, the quick pace started to travel through your eardrums, feeling far too flustered to pick up your mask of nonchalance. But you knew deep down the second Armin approached you that it was long gone.

“Is it really?” You hushedly asked, your stare lingering on his lips, slowly dragging it back up to his eyes, focusing on the glint in his glasses cast from the moonlight rather than directly into his pupils. “Mhm,” He hummed softly, leaning in much closer now. “Want proof?” He murmured, already inching closer. 

The Party & The After Party by The Weeknd was blaring downstairs, meeting your pair of ears muffledly, traveling beyond the walls and flooring and gently filling the thick air surrounding you two. With the music in the back and the way he was looking at you, at your lips, it was enough to make you nod weakly, leaning in to evaporate what little space that kept you apart.

You leaned upwards to meet his lips, shifting around so your knee was between his, not quite straddling him just yet, you’d let him be the one to pull you into his lap if he wanted you there that bad.

He groaned in your mouth, filled with immediate relief upon finally having you on him like this. His hands cupped either side of your face, holding you still as if you’d dissipate into thin air the second he were to let go. 

His hands traveled down your neck, running his thumb over your pulse, slowly descending down the curve of your shoulder, purposefully making the strap of your blouse slip off, down your soft arm until he landed on your hip, squeezing you with pure need.

He slipped his tongue between your lips, letting you feel his piercing, chuckling against your lips when he felt your low moan vibrate into his mouth. He gripped your hip, his free hand coming around to the other side of you, pushing you onto your back and into the bed with a surprising amount of ease.

He hovered above you, beautiful like an arc angel with a moonlight halo, glancing over your face before crashing back down into you. He slipped his knee between your full thighs, pushing with just enough pressure against where you need him, letting each of your little mewls and gasps melt on his tongue. 

You broke apart from the kiss, wobbly lips faltering with low whimpers, too engrossed in how the friction barely satiated the ache that you had built throughout the night to be able to kiss him properly.

Your thighs tightened around his knee, rolling your hips over it and using what he gave you, moaning shakily while his lips chased after yours, his hand cupping your jaw and guiding you back to him greedily.

He made you kiss him back, too impatient and too hungry to let you pull away so soon. Your hands ran down his chest and over his abdomen, admiring the broad expanse of him over his costume, still able to feel how toned he is beneath the fabric, taking your time to map him out and admire him through your fingertips. 

He could feel your hands running down his body, taking your time to truly feel him, and it did nothing but make his cock throb for you. A low groan rumbled into your mouth, and he pulled back a breadth’s width, shifting slightly to suck on your bottom lip, his teeth sinking in just enough to make you wince, but not enough to draw blood.

He let it snap back into place, pecking you once more before traveling over your neck, placing deliberate hot kisses across your flushed skin.

He nipped and sucked bruising kisses, his restraint slipping with every moan you poured into his ears so graciously. He dragged his tongue across where he nipped you as if to soothe it, swirling his piercing over your pulse, feeling it eagerly thump against his wet muscle. 

He kissed down your collarbones, his warm hands grappling around your sides, squeezing you and taking the time to map you out, loving the way you squirm and moan beneath him.

His hands traveled further up, large palms splaying across your ribs while your poor cunt rutted against his knee. He pushed your blouse up, exposing your skin to the cold air, glancing down and watching your skin break into goosebumps. He chuckled faintly, kissing the skin just above your breast. 

When his fingers slid behind your back and began tugging at the clasp of your bra, you sucked in a breath, worried things may be going too far too soon, suddenly feeling very shy and very bare underneath him. “W-Wait Armin,” you breathed out shakily, holding onto his forearms.

His warm lips slowly abandoned the soft skin of your tummy, instead gently finding space on your heated cheek, pecking languidly. “S’okay, I just wanna see you, lemme see you, love.” he uttered from the base of his throat, rumbly and earnest, his fingers tracing your shoulder blades. 

As an extra means of convincing you, he nudged his knee right up against your cunt, prompting a low gasp from your swollen lips. You nodded weakly, feeling eager to give him what he wanted, the pleasure from rubbing your clothed clit over his knee prompting you to descend into a state of hazy submission, all but replacing your logic and rationale. 

He unhooked your bra and watched your straps falter down your shoulders with a pointed stare of starving impatience. He tugged it off of you, pushing your blouse far enough to expose your breasts, sucking in a sharp breath when he sees your full flesh and pert nipples.

With haste he lowered himself to you, cupping your breasts with greed, squeezing and groping while his mouth latched on, swirling his pierced tongue around your sensitive buds.

You gasped at the suddenness of it all, your back arching into his mouth and thighs tightening around his knee. He moaned into your skin, your body absorbing every touch and every sound he poured into you. 

His hand slid from one of your breasts, his lips mouthing their way up your skin and back to yours, while his now free hand traveled between your legs, cupping your aching pussy. You soaked through the gusset of your panties, his cock twitching with a primal throb to bury itself inside of you upon feeling it.

“Armin,” you mewled shakily against his lips, your hand wrapping around his wrist, your thighs squeezing around him apprehensively. 

He shushed you, gently shifting his wrist to grab yours, pinning it firmly but carefully beside your head, his lips ghosting over yours. “S’okay, love.” He whispered, his cheek brushing against your lips, his hair cascading down and cloaking the side of your face while he glanced down, watching himself circle his fingers over your clit.

“You’re soaked,” he breathed out with both a cocky sense of humor and pure arousal. A low shaky gasp melted into a moan and curled off the plump of your lips, your head falling back into the mattress, your eyes falling in suit with a soft downcast flutter.

He rubbed your clit, watching the way your body gave itself to him so easily, your hips bucking towards his touch when he pressed down just right, playing your body like a finely tuned and beautifully intricate instrument. 

When he sunk his fingers into you, your body twitched, legs threatening to tighten around his hand from the sudden breach. You swallowed a thick moan, your head lulling to the side and begging for another kiss.

He obliged you, kissing you hard while he pumped his fingers into you, satisfied when he heard a whiny moan roll from the back of your throat, presuming he hit your g-spot. 

He studied you just as hard as he did with tasks in his academic life, but this was far more interesting and rewarding; he loved finding what made you tick, loved to learn what made you wet and pathetic like this.

He continued fucking you on his long fingers, his thumb swiping over your clit and reveling in the way your back arched, your hips acting on their own in an attempt to feel more of him.

Your breasts heaved in the air, and he felt an odd sense of possessiveness as he saw his saliva glisten from the moonlight over your pretty nipples. Your hand slid away from the nape of his neck and down to his wrist, gripping it with a desperate need while you fucked yourself on his fingers, moaning wholly into his mouth, addicted to the pleasure he was giving you. 

He pulled back, his face turning downward to watch the lewd act, your free hand coming back around to his nape, pulling him in close to kiss down his jaw and neck while he fucked into your little hole with his fingers.

He exhaled a low breath, swallowing hard when he closed his eyes and focused on your string of soft moans and the wet clicking sound that came from pumping his fingers into you.

He felt you tremble, felt the way your body was tensing and how your moans were becoming more urgent, sharper yet more shallow, so he withdrew all together. He ignored your disappointed gasp and soft whispers of “Why?” opting to trail down your soft tummy with hot kisses instead. 

Once he got lower, down to the waistband of your panties, in your pleasure clouded haze, you managed to realize why he stopped. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, heat filled with a shy anticipation fanned across your cheeks at the sight, and you attempted to close your legs out of instinct, but he wasn’t having it. Not when he needed to taste you. 

He parted your legs with ease, surprising you with his strength for the second time tonight. Or was it the third? You had no idea, no coherent thoughts or sentences could be properly formulated for you, not when Armin had his tongue buried in you and was lapping you up like you were an endless reservoir of water.

He initially wanted to ease you into it with a little kitten lick, gentle and slow, but when he saw your pretty cunt glistening the way it was, and saw how your poor clit so obviously needed some tending to, he couldn’t prolong the moment and dove in immediately.

Your hands flew to his hair, threading your fingers in his golden strands and fighting the urge to tug. He moaned into your pussy as if it were him receiving the pleasure, but in a way he was. 

He loved having a mouthful of your cunt, he’d been thinking about it the entire night. It was hard for him to focus when speaking with you, all he could picture was those full thighs wrapped around his head and your hips bucking into his mouth. And he finally had you where he wanted you this whole time, with you on your back and your clit situated between his lips.

He abused your little clit with no mercy, swirling over it with his pierced tongue, too lost in the paradise between your legs to even think about pulling away. With a low annoyed groan and without bothering to move away, he pushed his glasses up into his hair, using it like a headband to grant himself better access to you.

He hummed contently, slowly pushing his face back between your legs, swishing side to side, delving into you fully now. You keened at his actions, your body nearly seizing beneath him at the pointed and intense sensation. 

His nose rubbed over your mound, while his fingers slid right back into your fluttering hole, chuckling over your wet flesh when a rough gasp wracked through you, the sound morphing into a choked moan.

He fucked your cunt with his fingers, his lips never letting your clit rest once, his available hand pinning your hip to the mattress, keeping you still for him to devour. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way between him and eating your pussy, not even you.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he breathed out, seemingly in a daze, glancing up at you from amidst your thighs, mouth and chin soaked from your cunt.

He turned slightly, nipping at your inner thigh before he resumed without any hesitation, rocking his hips against the bed mindlessly, his neglected cock nearly ripping the crotch in his costume pants. 

“Ar-Armin, I–” you sobbed shakily, your body acting before your mind could, hips squirming away from his mouth, too overstimulated to handle much more. He squeezed your hip, pushing you back into the bed, not letting you escape his warm mouth.

You cried out, already too sensitive to endure anymore, unsure of when you had even came, it felt like you were stuck in a blurry cloud of hedonism, unaware of when you entered and if you could ever leave.

You twitched about, feeling as if a loose wire was set off in you, sparking throughout your veins and nervous system, all from his unrelentingly tongue, lapping at your clit over and over. 

He begrudgingly pulled away, taking pity when you let out a strangled moan, exhaling heavily to himself and planting a lasting kiss to your clit before moving away all together. He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, panting as if he ran a marathon, climbing back up to your blissed out face, smiling smugly at the sight.

He peppered kisses across your cheeks and temples, capturing your lips with his, taking away the breath you were struggling so hard to catch. He decided that you could just have his, anything belonging to him felt like it was starting to belong to you too.

“Armin,” you breathed out, his still slick nose brushing against yours, your hooded eyes heavy from the weight of pleasure flickering between his with complete awe, utterly shocked that a person could make someone else feel so good.

He smiled, leaning down to kiss you once more. He tilted his head down at you, sliding his glasses back down onto his nose bridge, humming your name back as if he didn’t just eat your cunt until you literally cried. 

You huffed humorously, rolling your eyes, your gaze drifting to the bulge straining in his pants. The humor died down and your heart raced at the sight. He caught your stare, pressing himself to your hip, a low whimper rumbling from his throat and into your ear.

“It’s starting to hurt,” he groaned softly, his forehead nudging your cheek, shifting his hips with an achingly gentle roll, silently pleading with you to take care of him. You swallowed hard, sucking on your bottom lip, glancing from his crotch up to his eyes.

“I–I’ve never..” He shook his head, panting with shallow breaths. “I-It’s okay, I’ll guide you if you need me to, just.. please, ‘wanna feel your mouth so bad, please?” he pleaded, his voice slightly high-pitched and utterly desperate.

You felt bad, not wanting him to be in pain, especially since he had made you feel so good only moments earlier, you figured it was only fair. 

You nodded with a wordless concession, and he thanked you, his voice wobbly with an airy gratefulness. He unlatched himself from hovering above you, laying on his back with his elbows supporting him, his watchful eyes taking in the way you repositioned yourself on top of him.

His cock twitched when you shyly pulled your panties back into place, still so endearing and sheepish even after he had his tongue buried in you only minutes before.

You unbuttoned his pants and unzipped him slowly, hooking your fingers beneath the waistband of both his pants and boxers down until his cock sprung out. You gaped at it, your heart nearly failing, watching it struggle to remain upright from its own weight. It wasn’t like you were expecting him to be small or anything, but you didn’t think that a guy so nerdy and geeky would be packing something like that.

“Jesus…” you murmured through a shaky and nervous laugh, your reaction pleasantly surprising Armin. He had a habit of forgetting just how big he was, he was annoyingly humble about what had, but he enjoyed being reminded of his above average-ness via situations like this.

You wrapped your hand around him, slowly dragging your fist up and down, a small relieved smile growing over your face when you heard a low moan rumble from his throat. You decided to just be brave and go for it, leaning down to wrap your lips around the fat head of his cock.

He gasped, groaning low and heavy, his elbows faltering and gliding down until he was laying flat on his back. 

You brought your second hand up to wrap around him, pumping his shaft with both hands, leaving enough room to suction over his tip and whatever else you could take without getting overwhelmed.

Thankfully you had remembered Hitch’s advice — something about how both the tip and somewhere around it, there was something called a frenulum and how it was extremely sensitive for men. You decided to be safe and to just try focusing on that first.

You swirled your tongue steadily and intently around him, lowering yourself further and further down his cock bit by bit, feeling a sense of pride thrum through you at the way he moaned under you, figuring your experiment was proven accurate. 

His hand fell behind your head, not pushing or forcing you down, just holding firmly, needing to make some kind of contact with you. His forearm pushed his glasses onto his forehead, his arm resting over his eyes, whimpering shakily above you.

His hips bucked slightly into your mouth, the way you wrapped around him and took him in was so perfect that he couldn’t control the way his body chased after more of it. 

“F-Fuck, oh God,” he choked out, his moans were starting to curl off the crescendo of a gentle higher pitch, sounding so pretty as he did so, and it only egged you on to try and take him further. You glided your hands lower onto his shaft, giving you more room to slide your lips over, your eyes welling with tears at the way his girth made your jaw ache.

The price to pay for his pleasure felt more than worth it, his whimpers of your name and feeling him twitch on your tongue were payment enough. You bobbed your head, gagging slightly when he hit the back of your throat. You pulled off for a moment, catching your breath, and blinking away your tears. 

He wished you didn’t, he thought you looked the prettiest with swollen lips and watery eyes. You planted a warm kiss to his hip, your cunt aching all over again when you saw the ring of lipstick around his cock and then on his hip, fueling you to go back down and take him in your mouth eagerly. 

You went back with only one hand, taking him further down your throat than you were able to the first time, and he gasped deeply, groaning and lulling his head side to side, pleasantly tormented by how fucking good your mouth felt suctioned over him.

His hand rested along the warm nape of your neck, his hips starting to thrust into your mouth, your name falling from his lips in a tearful and trembling mantra as his shaft glided up and down your tongue. You steadied yourself with your hands on his hips, your sounds vibrating around his thick cock. 

“F-Feels so good, I – fuck,” he cried out, fucking your mouth desperately, your nose hitting his soft trimmed patch of blonde pubic hair, squeezing your eyes shut and trying your best to accommodate his size down your throat. 

He whimpered your name like it was the only word he knew, like it was the only one that mattered, and in that moment it truly felt like it. You took him so well he couldn’t hold back from bucking his cock as far it could go down your throat.

He felt himself getting dangerously close to cumming, and as much as he wanted to give in and cum down your throat and across your beautiful face, he knew the pay off of getting to ram his cock into your cunt would be so much better.

“C-C’mere, please,” he panted shakily, eager with an aching sense of fervidness to be inside of you, unable to waste a single second without doing so. 

You slid off of his cock, sputtering slightly as you wiped your mouth, shakily climbing back up to meet him. He gripped your hips, pushing you onto your back once more. “You are so beautiful, so perfect,” he panted breathlessly, kissing down your jaw and neck holding himself by his shaft, dragging his tip over your clit and up and down your folds, circling your hole.

You swallowed a shaky moan at the feeling, finding yourself inching your hips to grant more access, but not fully, the lingering notion that he wasn’t wearing a condom preventing you from letting him push in all the way.

“Wait, ‘Min, you’re not wearing a condom,” you squeaked out softly, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. He shook his head, shifting back up to look at you, his brows drawn together with complete desperation. 

“S’okay, I promise I’m clean, a-and I’ll pull out, I just,” He whimpered, rubbing your clit with his fat cockhead, his breathing growing labored with want. “I need to be inside of you,” his soft and wavering voice pathetically floating down into your ear, his cock circling over your clit temptingly.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he pleaded, his bitten lips wobbling with an unabashed need. You couldn’t think straight, not when he was distracting you with how it good it felt to have his cock rub against your clit, and not with how devastatingly pretty he was when he begged like that.

“O-Okay,” you agreed shakily, spreading your legs a little further, giving in to his wants and your own, no matter how reckless it might’ve been. “Thank you,” he breathed out earnestly, kissing you deeply.

His forehead rested against yours, your breaths intermingling into one. He aligned himself with your hole, pushing in and shuddering a wavering breath at the way you sucked him in. 

A sharp gasp ripped from your chest, your hands flying to his biceps, squeezing hard when he managed to barely fit his thick tip in.  Your breathing became more strained the further he pushed into you. Your head fell back, a low whimper rumbling from the base of your throat, struggling to steady your breathing while he stretched you out around his cock.

The corners of your eyes watered once more, and while he felt sympathy for you, halting his hips to a stop as to allow you time to adjust, he couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed inside of you at the sight of you so laying so beautifully beneath him, so sweet and misty eyed.

“Take your time,” he murmured soothingly, kissing your neck. He snuck his hand between your fused bodies, rubbing your clit to try and ease you into it. 

You moaned into the balmy air at the feeling, starting to slowly but surely roll your hips into his touch. When he felt you grow less tense, he bottomed out, successfully knocking the wind out of you. He hiked your leg up and over his hip, and began to move, burying his face into your neck while he buried his cock deep inside your welcoming cunt.

“You’re so perfect,” he panted through the shaky breath of a whimper, nipping at your neck while his hips fluidly pushed in and out of you, his thick cock dragging along the warm and wet confines of your tight cunt.

He kissed and sucked at the sensitive skin of your neck, moaning thickly into the crook of it, his hips crashing into yours over and over. 

Your pussy pulsed around him, never having felt so completely full before, so utterly enveloped by another person, and it was overwhelming in the best possible way. No matter where you turned or where you shifted around to, you felt him, he was all encompassing.

And as he bucked his hips into you, grinding the fat head of his cock right up against your g-spot, you wondered how you ever went without experiencing pleasure like this. 

His lips migrated towards the dip of your collarbones, watching your tits bounce from how fast he was pivoting into you, swallowing down a wobbly moan at the sight. He licked and nipped at them, swirling his pierced tongue over your nipples once more, wanting to make use of every inch of your body. He didn’t want there to be a single part of you that went untouched by him.

He pulled back just slightly, his hands massaging over your breasts with a tilted gaze, his eyes angled down and watching your poor cunt take his cock, your abused hole fluttering around his length. He watched, utterly hypnotized at the way his cock disappeared into you with every drag of his hips. 

Armin didn’t possess what one would call an intimidating stature, he stood at a decent height of 5'10 and maintained a nice, toned swimmer’s physique – all in all, he never found himself to be the looming, towering type.

But after observing with a depraved set of eyes at how your tiny pussy sucked in his fat cock? It gave him such a high to feel so colossal and dominating above you, leaving you to feel perfectly pliable and moldable in his hands.

You stroked this feeling with how good you were for him, how easy you were to grip and squeeze, how your hole took everything he gave it despite the hefty stretch. You made him feel like a giant. You acted like it too, your legs trembled around him, whiny strings of moans containing his name and other incoherencies all caused by his cock splitting you open. 

You made him downright ravenous, feeling as if he were one of the monsters in his video games capturing the princess who was supposed to be saved but instead was getting bent and bred by the very thing she was supposed to be rescued from.

Except his princess enjoyed it – you enjoyed the way he pounded into you, loved how he took you as if it was his right to have you like this. 

He pressed down on your lower stomach, letting you feel just how deep he was in you, wordlessly letting you know that no one else would be able to reach where he could, but he was sure you wouldn’t seek out any replacements after that — he knew that he just about owned you after that night.

A strained moan pulled from the depths of your chest at the way he added pressure to your tummy, your eyes welling with a bout of iridescent tears, and fuck, it only made him thrust into you that much harder.

He watched you cry on his cock, babbling pathetically about how good he felt inside you, and it stoked the flames of arousal and greed in him, wanting more and more of your earnest devotion and tears. 

He rubbed your clit, matching his thrusts with his fingers circling over your little soaked bud. “So pretty when you cry,” he murmured into your jaw, kissing you tenderly before his eyes flitted to you again, gazing with narrowed eyes at your pouty lips forming over a sob of moans, and how mascara streaked down your cheeks from his unrelenting pace and touch. 

Your body was tensing all over again, nearing your limit once more, tears falling more freely as your hands grappled behind him, trailing beneath his costume to dig your nails into his toned back, sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

He knew you were close, knew you needed to cum, and he was going to be the one to bring you where you needed to be.

He pushed your knee up further, slamming down into you with an endless roll of his hips, his fingers never letting up on your clit. He fucked you through your orgasm, grunting about how perfect your pussy felt wrapped around him, how beautiful you were, and how he wanted you to cum for him, how he needed you to. 

Your sobs were absorbed into his skin, your mouth crying out for him as he impaled you on his cock, his fingers milking you of every ounce of your climax, rubbing your poor clit raw. He pushed you over the edge into a white hot buzzing stream of stimulation, fucking you into the mattress while you came around him, stroking himself inside you slowly but never to a full stop. 

You laid limp beneath him, completely and utterly fucked out and weak. He didn’t falter, and instead picked up his pace again, chasing his own orgasm. You were incredibly worn out and sensitive, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to cum for you. You let him use you like a little sleeve, dragging his cock in and out of you with sporadic and harsh thrusts, until he pulled out suddenly. 

He hunched over you, his eyes scanning down your body with his cock in his hand. He took in the way your blouse laid crumpled under your chin, exposing your breasts, slick with his saliva, how your beautiful face was stained with mascara because of him, and down at your fucked out pussy, absolutely abused because of his cock.

He wanted nothing more than to cum in you, but he promised he’d pull out, and he figured he’d at least tell one truth tonight, and decided there’d simply have to be another time when he can pump you full of his cum.

With a final tug, he came, spurting thick ropes across your tummy and cunt, whimpering your name while he weakly fucked his fist, draining every drop of cum out of himself. 

You watched him cum on you, a low weak moan falling from your lips at the lewd scene, half wishing it was inside of you, but you still had half a mind to know better than to have let that happen. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, kissing over your neck and cheek, panting heavily alongside you.

All you could do was melt in his arms, your eyes and entire body too dense with exhaustion to move an inch.

“You okay?” he murmured gently, his chin on your shoulder, cradling you with such a delicate sense of care. You managed to muster an affirmative nod, humming quietly. He chuckled breathily, his head falling back into the pillow beside you, simply letting himself be. 

Your heartbeats pounded in sync, still coming down from the intense high you both had shared, and as the air around you winded down, the pace of the muscles pounding in your chests did too. A blanket of a fizzled-out fatigue cascaded over your sweat slicked bodies, nearly luring you both into a deep sleep.

He fought against the exhaustion, hulling himself up to lean over the nightstand beside the bed, plucking a couple of tissues from its box. He shifted down lazily to clean you up before you got dressed again. He gingerly wiped his cum off of your body, balling up the tissues and tossing them into the trashcan, falling back into bed with you tiredly. 

You lulled your head towards him, smiling faintly, your eyes dragging across his flushed face. “Will you still invite me over to play the remastered pixel series?” you asked quietly, voice still thick with a lazy rasp of weariness. His brows drew together endearingly, laughing softly with a curt confirmative nod. “Of course I will.” And he truly meant it. 

— 

He walked you back to your dorm, making sure you had his number in your phone before he left you, bidding you goodbye with a soft kiss to your lips and a promise that he’ll see you soon. You padded inside your dorm, body shuffling tiredly towards your bed, huffing with annoyance as Hitch attempted to crowd you with worried questions.

“I looked for you everywhere at the party, where’d you go?” She asked, following your slow pace towards your bed, sitting beside you when you collapsed into it. You shot her a glare, attempting to weakly chuck a pillow at her, growing more annoyed when she dodged it.

“Why do you care? You all ditched me knowing what happens at those kinds of parties.” you grumbled, rolling on your side and facing the wall and away from her. She huffed confusedly, pulling you back to face her. “What do you mean? I didn’t ditch you; I was looking for you! And what’s that supposed to mean? What happened?” 

You sat up exasperatedly, hugging the pillow close to your chest. “The Hook up or Haze thing! Y’know, how the guys in the fraternity find new pledges and make 'em hook up with them or get hazed. I can’t believe you guys would just–” She suddenly said your name, her voice eerily serious and stern. “That’s… that’s not a thing.”

Your throat tightened, feeling your heart physically begin to sink. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to level your voice evenly and not let it tremble like your hands were starting to. She repeated your name again, clasping her hand over yours, her eyes squinting with confusion. “Hook up or Haze isn’t a thing… Who told you that?”

[girlboybug]

Father Figure𓆩ꢾ୧𓆪

"put your tiny hand in mine, i'd love to be your preacher, teacher, be your daddy, anything you have in mind."

aot boys as the older, inappropriate men in your life. ᯓ♡

part two

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUTTY, dubcon, power imbalance, hefty age gaps, psuedo-cest (stepdad), daddy kink, spanking, fingering, oral f!receiving, heavy petting, dry humping, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of creampies, inappropriate use of cakes (?), car sex, semi public sex, tipsy sex, blowjobs, slight exhibitionism if you squint real hard

TRIGGER WARNINGS : def some abuse of power/power imbalance, just about all of these scenarios could be interpreted as dubcon, reader has an unstable home life in multiple of these scenarios and also lowkey has some mommy issues sprinkled in </3

includes : eren, armin, jean, reiner, connie, levi, and erwin

word count : 6k (i'm so sorry)

what's playing ♬: father figure by george michael

a/n : i went a lil crazy here and rambled…hehe my bad... i really hope you guys enjoy!

eren ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

eren is a classic stepdad perv 

but that wasn’t his intention to begin with, it just kinda happened 

you were already 20 when he met your mom, off doing whatever it is that college girls do 

so he didn’t even get to meet you until a few years in — when the wedding planning became serious 

from the way your mother described you, he was expecting a rude brat 

but instead, there you were, this sweet, shy girl who offered a clammy palm for him to shake 

and then eren started to see it 

the way your mom picked fights with you

the way she was just so cold to you 

it started to make them fight in return

constant arguments over her treatment towards you made them start to push the wedding date further and further away 

but eren couldn’t leave, not while knowing he had a sweet thing like you who needed him 

he’d come to your room after dinner, and hold your hand while you vented and complained 

he tried really hard to be a proper father figure to you, no funny business whatsoever

but his resolve was only so strong for so long

at first you were like a skittish puppy, kicked around too many times to accept kindness without being wary of it

but eren was consistent, you could trust him 

so you did 

you started letting yourself be comfortable around him, started wearing your skimpy pajama sets around him instead of the big ol’ t-shirts and sweatpants you usually had on around the house 

it drove him up the fucking wall, watching you saunter down the stairs in those ridiculously tiny shorts and that goddamn tank top that barely held your tits back 

and then it happened 

he found his golden ticket that would take him straight to hell 

he had just finished doing the laundry and was padding into your bedroom to put away your clothes he washed for you 

(he definitely did it out of the kindness of his heart and not because he wanted to sniff your used panties) 

and he saw it, your diary laying haphazardly on your bed 

you were at a friend’s house, you wouldn’t be back until later that night, giving him some time to read a few pages 

he knew he was fucked up for this, but he was also fucked up for wanting to fuck his soon to be stepdaughter, so what was one more shitty thing? 

he flipped through a couple pages, his heart hurting upon reading about the treatment from your mother 

but as he flicked through the pages of around the time you two met, he noticed himself become a recurring topic 

at first it was innocent, “mom is introducing me to her fiancé i think his name is eren? i hope he’s nice.” 

and then “he’s a very kind man! and handsome too, i like him so far!”

“today eren picked me up from work and took me for ice cream, he’s the best. he makes me really nervous, i don’t know why though.”

“eren is the only person i can trust in this house, tonight he came to my room and held me while i cried about mom. but…part of me hoped that he’d pull me into his lap and hold me that way while i cried, but that feels kind of inappropriate…” 

“i had a wet dream about eren. i feel so dirty. i’m trying to tell myself it was just a dream, it means nothing – it has to mean nothing. he’ll be my stepdad soon. i’m going to try and forget about it.” 

“eren is the only thing that comes to mind when i touch myself, nothing else turns me on anymore, i’m so screwed.” 

and then, the latest entry, “tonight i’m meeting up with a boy, i really hope he distracts me from these feelings i have for eren, wish me luck.” 

fuck. no. 

eren grabbed his phone and checked your location, immediately rushing downstairs to snatch his keys off the hook and jump in his car

he hauled ass getting to you, he pounded on the door relentlessly, until a boy your age answered the door

he pushed past him and demanded you come out 

you were shocked to see eren, but he was nothing short of angry 

he pulled you by the wrist and dragged you to the car, ignoring that stupid boy calling after you

the car ride was silent, he ignored your attempts at explaining yourself, and all your tearful apologies for lying 

you were bent over his lap as soon as you entered your bedroom, your poor ass swatted raw as you sobbed, your legs kicking from the pain

he struck your ass for so long you couldn’t keep up with counting anymore 

“what happened to my good girl, huh? where’d she go?” he gritted out, craning his neck down to your beautifully blubbering face

“m’right here,” you hiccupped, body jerking as he slapped the fat of your ass with pure aggression 

“really? b’cause i don’t see her. hopefully i will soon.” he said sternly, pressing his palm firmly up against your cunt

you gasped, your body tensing upon the contact 

“e-eren..?” 

“shut up,” he snapped, grabbing your diary and tossing it on the floor in front of you 

“if you need me to take care of you,” he pushed the flimsy crotch of your shorts and panties to the side, dragging up and down your soaked folds, “you fucking ask me, not some little boy.” 

he fucked you with his long, thick fingers, curling right up against that sweet little spongy spot inside you, pressing his knee right to your clit 

he muffled your moans with his huge palm while he fingered you over his lap 

and then when he became impatient, he had you face down ass up in your soft frilly bed, his fat cock abusing your poor cunt 

you sucked him in and gripped him like you never wanted to let him go, leaving a milky ring of your arousal around the base of his cock

his hand was wrapped around your throat while he mounted you, grunting above you while he impaled you ruthlessly

“s’this what you wanted – what you needed?” he hissed, shuddering a moan at the tail end of his words, the sound of your wet cunt creaming around him making him twitch inside you

“y-yes ‘ren, thank you,” you sobbed, your response near incoherent with your cheek smushed into the pillow, your brain turning to goop as he bullied his thick length into you, stretching you out in ways you never had been before 

“this is my fuckin’ pussy now, you hear me? you only need my cock. repeat it.” 

“i-i only need your cock,” you cried, your body thrusted into the bed by the slamming of eren’s hips behind you

“that’s right honey, now be good and let daddy cum in you.” 

armin ᡣ˶ᵔ ​​ᵕ ᵔ˶𐭩 ♡

mr. arlert is your sweet, reliable next door neighbor!

he’s so wonderful, he always lets you come over and use his pool during the summertime 

he covers for you when you sneak out, even lets you borrow his car every now and then too 

he’s been the one you run to instead of your parents whenever a stupid boy has the audacity to break your heart 

he’s there for you more often than your own parents 

some people think its weird, how close you are with him, but he always reassures you that people just aren’t used to witnessing genuine kindness

so you thought he’d be a safe person to vent to during one of your sleepovers, about how none of your ex boyfriends just never made you feel a specific type of way 

“i-i dunno…maybe its weird to even talk about this, i’m sorry,” you trailed off, hugging one of his pillows close to your chest

he shook his head, reaching out and gently squeezing your forearm 

“its never weird, not with me,” he reassured you 

so you told him 

“i just…never really got turned on with my exes y’know? we’d do some stuff but i could never get into it and they’d always blame me. call me a stupid prude n’ stuff…” 

he got angry at that, those stupid little boys just didn’t know how to treat you the way you deserved, but he did. 

“sounds to me they’re immature boys, who didn’t take the time to really understand you or be patient with you. that isn’t your fault sweetheart.” 

“but i don’t even know what i like, maybe there is something wrong with me…” 

armin’s cock began to stir as his mind went rampant with all the ways he could make you cum… 

fuck, this topic was getting dangerous 

“no, don’t say that, don’t ever say that about yourself,” he pushed the pillow out of your arms, resting on his knees closer to you now, the bed dipping under his weight when he nears you 

he cups your cheeks, peering down at you with a tempting contemplation

“do you want…me to help you?” 

and that’s how you ended up with him up against his bedframe and your back safely tucked into his chest, his legs locking yours open while he rubbed your clit 

“does that feel good, sweetie?” he asked softly in your ear, his lips grazing your jaw

you just moaned, your head lulling back against his collarbones while he rubbed firm tight circles over your clit 

when he didn’t hear you respond, he patted your clit sternly, grabbing your attention 

“answer me. so i know you feel good.” 

“i-it feels so good, mr. arlert,” you keened, panting heavily 

“you’re so wet sweetie, did you ever get this way with those other boys?” he hummed in your ear, his free hand coming up to gently grope at your breast, his cock aching when he felt your lack of a bra

“n-no, never,” you breathed out, shaking your head 

he chuckled, the sound rumbling softly behind your back 

“figures.” he breathed out, feeling cocky at your answer 

“do you want to feel my fingers inside now, sweetie?”

“please!” 

he slid in his middle and ring finger, gripping your hip to keep you from squirming 

he pumped you nice and slow, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch himself fuck you on his fingers

“f-feels so much better when you do it mr. arlert,” you whimpered as you turned your head to the side, your nose brushing against his cheek 

“that’s what i like to hear, now watch me while i touch you sweetheart so you know how to do it yourself.” 

he made you cum twice with his fingers alone, taking advantage of how pliable and limp you were in his arms, and how easy it was to pull orgasms out of you

poor thing, you had been so pent up until you had mr. arlert take care of you

and then he had you sit on his face, urging you to figure out what you like by riding his face 

he made you cum so hard like that 

one hand traveled up, squeezing your breast under your shirt while the other snuck down beneath his boxers and began palming himself

you bucked your hips over him, grinding your clit against his wet and eager tongue 

he lapped your pussy up, moaning into your flesh while he devoured you, ruining you for anyone else who dared tried their luck with you after this 

when you had enough, he let you sink back into bed as he held you close, wrapping his arms around your trembling body 

he pressed his hips flush against your ass, his lips trailing over your shoulder 

“do you wanna learn one more thing, sweetheart?” 

jean (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑)

you love jean! 

he’s your dad’s best friend, and basically your’s too, you always say 

he’s so sweet on you, spoiling you rotten despite your parents protesting 

he’s always got your back, no matter what 

jean isn’t stupid, he knows you’ve got a little crush on him 

he thinks it’s real cute, the way you hide behind your occasional teasing and ribbing 

but overall, you’re very obedient towards him, and deep down he knows your eagerness to obey stems from this little infatuation you’ve got with him 

at first his natural response was hell no, you were only 18 when he first caught on 

of course he always thought you were beautiful but you’ve always just been a baby compared to him 

not to mention you’re his best buddy from highschool’s kid, naturally you’d be off limits even if you were in your forties 

but goddamn you really started filling out more in your 20s 

you got a little bolder too 

you often took advantage of your height difference with jean, always managing to wear something low cut and revealing when you knew he’d be around, well aware that he’d be granted a perfect view of your perfect tits

and then one night at an ungodly hour, you called jean 

“mr. kirstein?” you sniffled and his back went straight in his office chair, his hand squeezing his phone with angst 

he responded with your name, his voice riddled with worry 

“i’m so sorry but can you pick me up? i’m a party and i don’t… i don’t really wanna be here anymore…” 

“send me the address i’m on my way.” 

jean probably ran almost every red light that there was to get to you 

once he picked you up it was a battle of self control to not stare at you in his passenger seat 

the way your stupidly tiny and tight dress bunched around your thick thighs, and how you tried to shyly tug it back down but to no avail 

“wanna tell me what happened.” he spoke, glancing over at you

“it’s embarrassing…” you trailed off quietly, picking at your cuticles as your hands rested in your lap

“try me.” 

you stayed silent for a long passing beat, staring at your lap for what felt like forever, like you were weighing your options before you sighed, deciding to say fuck it and just be honest 

“i… i was playing beer pong. the loser had to do whatever the winner wanted them to do. i lost. and the guy i lost to told me to meet him upstairs..” 

“uh huh.” he was gripping the steering wheel hard, pretending it was the throat of whatever idiot you were playing against, his teeth nearly cracking from how hard he was clenching his jaw 

“long story short, we started making out and doing stuff… i couldn’t really get into it y’know? so i started to imagine someone else and…um… i-i said your name.” 

the car nearly jerked to a stop, his body frozen with a thin layer of cold sweat infecting every inch of his skin at your revelation 

“can you say something?” you mumbled, burning humiliation swallowing you whole amidst the heavy silence 

“so let me just uh…get this straight, are you saying that in order to get turned on you had to imagine me?”

“…yes.” 

he exhaled, clenching his jaw as he immediately went to pull over, unbuckling himself from the seat belt and turning to face you head on 

“i need you to tell me right fucking now that you don’t want me. tell me i’m too old for you and you’re disgusted at the thought of me touching you.” 

you gaped at him, slowly shaking your head once his words fully resonated in your head 

“i can’t.” 

“please…” he begged, needing you to reject him before he did something he couldn’t undo 

“mr. kirstein,” you unbuckled yourself, leaning across the center console, your hand shakily landing on his knee 

“please kiss me.” 

and he did. 

he grabbed you by your jaw and kissed you hard, groaning in your mouth as his free hand traveled down the nape of your neck, down the curve of your back and around the fat of your ass, gripping it hard 

he pulled you into his lap, moaning in your mouth when you settled comfortably on top of him. 

he extended his seat backwards, giving you more room as he guided your grinding hips, letting you rut against his fat bulge straining his slacks 

his hands fell to your thighs, squeezing you and letting himself fully indulge in you 

his fingers soon found your cunt, rubbing you over your panties 

you were so fucking wet just from a little kissing 

you took his hand and guided it beneath your panties, whimpering against his lips, pleading with him to touch you 

he tilted his chin down, staring at his hand tenting into your panties, the sound of your wet cunt clicking from how fucking soaked you were filling his ears 

he sunk his fingers into you, groaning when you bucked your hips against them, rocking over his long digits 

when you couldn’t take it anymore, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, you found yourself in his backseat, bouncing stupidly on his fat cock, pretty breasts getting bruises sucked into them by his warm mouth 

“f-fuck, my sweet girl, my sweet sweet girl,” he groaned mindlessly into your chest, kissing you over your heart 

“pussy is so fuckin’ perfect, jus’ listen,”

and he curled his palm over your mouth, silencing your loud moans to make you hear your own cunt getting fucked raw 

“gonna cum in you, gonna make you crawl into your cute lil’ bed tonight full of my cum baby — now beg me for it.” 

reiner ₍ᐢ › ̫ ‹ ᐢ₎

mr. braun is your best friend’s dad 

but he insists on you just calling him reiner, he’s a cool dad after all 

he’s a divorcee, or well, about to be 

his bitch of an ex wife must be clinically insane to have cheated on a fine specimen like him 

you would’ve never done that to him 

you swear you’d be so good to him, and sometimes you wonder if he thinks the same 

he can’t, he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, you’re his daughter’s best friend 

he could easily be your father 

but he’s not, and you try really hard to remind him of that but he can’t seem to catch a hint 

that oblivious old man. 

he thinks you’re such a good girl, completely unsuspecting of the desires you harbor for him 

you’re so sweet, you come by to check up on an old man like him even when your friend isn’t home 

what 20 something year old does something so kind! 

(the one that wants her bff’s dad to fuck her stupid) 

you were taking a culinary course at your university, and reiner had been reaping the benefits of it 

you made it a habit to come by and  drop off your latest confectionaries, nearly pavlov’ing reiner into getting hungry whenever you’re around 

much to your fortune heh 

and then on one sunny afternoon, you swung by, pretty sundress hugging your body, little kitten heels adorning your pedicured feet, with a strawberry cake frosted with chocolate whipped buttercream in hand 

reiner nearly dropped to his knees at the sight, wondering how on earth he got so lucky 

you sat on the kitchen island, legs dangling casually while he stood beside you, cutting a slice for himself onto a plate, moaning with delight at the taste 

“goddamn, honey you’ve got a real knack for this y’know that?” 

“you flatter me, mr. braun,” 

“mm-no,” he shook his head, chewing down his bite, “call me reiner, mr. braun makes me feel old.” 

you smiled, shrugging while leaning forward, gently swiping away the frosting in the corner of his lips 

“who said being a little older was such a bad thing?” 

his breathing stuttered in his throat along with his heart in his chest, his eyes widening as he laughed nervously 

he stepped back, turning away so you couldn’t see the way he got incredibly flushed at that, reaching into his fridge to grab a water 

“you’re too sweet, honey.” 

when he turned back around, you were staring at him in a way that would make better men than him weak. 

despite better judgment, he still walked back towards you 

“reiner,” you said softly, alluringly, with a slight tilt of your head 

you leaned upwards, attempting to latch your lips to his 

he almost met you with his own, groaning begrudgingly before pulling away, shaking his head 

“n-no shit, i-i can’t i’m sorry honey it-it’d be beyond wrong.” 

you frowned, nearly pouting as you hopped off the counter, cornering him against the fridge 

“don’t you think im pretty?” you asked quietly, eyebrows drawn with an insecure concern 

he softened, his hands coming up to gently squeeze your arms, nodding in earnest 

“oh of course i do, but it isn’t about that i just—“ 

“then why won’t you kiss me?” 

oh fuck it 

his ex wife had made him feel so unattractive and undesirable, despite the fact that he frequently attended the gym and made efforts in maintaining his physique 

but you? you made him feel recognized in all his efforts, even the ones beyond his physicality 

so maybe indulging in his daughter’s best friend was something he could treat himself to, just this once 

he hauled you up in his big strong arms, hoisting you back onto the counter, standing between your thighs 

he kissed you hard, and you moaned desperately, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him in closer to you 

he pushed you back onto the counter, acting with reckless abandon, tugging the sweetheart neckline of your dress, reaching over and swiping the frosting from off the cake you brought and smearing it across your tits 

he bent down and mouthed all over your chest, making a complete sweet mess of you 

you tugged at his hair while he licked you up, whimpering as you felt him rock his hips against you 

he was so impatient, he couldn’t hold back from hiking your dress up and pushing your panties to the side 

he fished himself from out his trousers and boxers, slapping his fat cock over your tummy 

you gasped at the sight, your mouth going dry as you realized taking him might be a bigger feat than you expected 

“look at what you do to me, honey..”  he groaned, grabbing himself by the base of his cock, dragging himself up and down your pussy, collecting your arousal over his fat tip 

he swirled over your clit a few times, swallowing hard at the way you whimpered his name every time he did it 

he caught you off guard and pushed in, shivering at your tightness 

he slid in so easily, you were so fucking soaked 

he fucked you with everything he had, releasing all the pent up desire he’d been keeping to himself, into you 

he buried his face in your chest, licking and nipping and sucking at your skin while he pounded away into you 

you trapped him inside you, locking your legs around his hips while he held you firmly, holding you tight so you didn’t fall off the counter from how hard he thrusted into you 

“goddamn,” he grunted into your skin, kissing his way back up to your mouth 

“feeling good honey?” he’d utter against your lips, feeling his heart race with satisfaction when you’d whimper and nod, dazed over his cock 

poor reiner hasn’t gotten laid in he didn't even know how long, and ended up cumming earlier than he would’ve liked 

he was so embarrassed, sliding out of your sopping cunt, apologizing repeatedly 

you truly didn’t mind, even though you hadn’t cum yet, reassuring him gently that it was fine 

but he couldn’t have that 

he swiped a chunk of cake once more, lowering himself between your thighs and smearing the dessert over your leaking cunt, dripping from his cum 

“lemme just clean you up, honey.” 

connie ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

mr. springer — or connie, is your dad’s business associate 

your dad wanted to keep a close eye on you right out of college, wanting to make sure you didn’t stray off and lose yourself in a dead end job 

so what better way to keep track of you and not let you embarrass him or your family name than by scoring you a job at his firm! 

it’s so boring and draining sometimes you wonder if it really is sucking the life out of you 

but then you met connie 

he was such a nice rift in the mundanity at your job 

he’d hang around your desk, bring you coffee and sneak you snacks from the exec’s rec room, knowing that theirs was far better than what the sad little break room that the lower entry workers had 

he always tried to convince your dad to lighten up on you, and despite his efforts usually ending in vain, it still meant a lot to you knowing you had someone in your corner 

he’d even take you home after work sometimes, or pick you up, iced coffee in tow of course to make the morning more tolerable 

he was the best! 

especially when you had to attend the god awful company christmas party 

a bunch of old boring farts discussing their boring lives at a boring party no one wanted to be at 

you were getting your head chattered off by a random old man who worked below your father, rambling on about things that you couldn’t care less to hear about 

and as always, connie swooped in and saved you, politely tugging you along under the polite guise of “sorry, her dad’s lookin’ for her.” 

he tucked you away into the safety of his spacious office, pressing the button under his desk to draw the curtains across his glass doors. 

“you’re a life saver.” 

“nah. i just don’t like seeing you suffer.” 

you weren’t sure if it was the couple of drinks you managed to sneak from the open bar or if it was the way he was looking at you that made you so bold, but you sat at the corner of his desk beside him, peering down at him in his chair 

“why’re you so nice to me connie?” 

“does there have to be a reason?” he asked, resting his chin against his knuckles 

you shrugged, shaking your head. “no. but… i’d like there to be.” 

“you’d like there to be?” he repeated slowly, letting the weight of your words ring in the air, trying to give you an opportunity to wave off the thickness in the air and blame the couple of drinks in your system for the way you ‘mispoke’ 

“yeah.” you confirmed and goddamnit, you swatted away his offer and in return half of his restraint 

he said your name warningly, but you slid off his desk and into his lap, straddling him 

you rubbed your clothed clit over his dress pants, hiking your modest dress in a not so modest way, whimpering into his neck 

he gripped your hips, unable to stop himself from rolling up to meet your ministrations 

“you’re such a fucking tease,” he uttered in your ear, groaning lowly as he groped your ass, squeezing you hard 

you giggled, kissing at his jawline 

“i’d only be a tease if i wasn’t willing to give you more,” you murmured in his ear, tilting your face until your lips brushed against each other’s 

he eliminated the space between you two and kissed you hard 

you could taste the champagne on his tongue and grapes from the charcuterie board, moaning as you ground your hips against his, snaking your hand between your bodies to palm his cock over his pants 

before you knew it, you were bent over his desk, his papers and office supplies scattered across the floor as he fucked you

his body hunched over yours, his thick cock filling your cunt so good as he pivoted in and out of you, your slickness starting to stain the crotch of his pants 

“should make you my secretary, ‘could fuck you like this anytime i wanted,” he grunted in your ear, pulling a deep whimpery moan from the depths of your chest, burying his cock deeper into you for emphasis 

you grinded your clit against the edge of his desk while he slammed his hips against your ass, staining the table with your arousal 

“fu-fuck, you’re so deep,” you cried out, covering your mouth with your palm 

he grabbed your arm and pinned it behind your back, using it as leverage to fuck into you harder 

“nah i wanna fuckin’ hear you, go ahead, make some noise, make the party for everyone a little more interesting you slut.” 

levi ૮₍ꐦ -᷅ ⤙ -᷄ ₎ა

professor ackerman…😵‍💫😵‍💫

captain hardass of the ss hardass. 

he still does that shit that your elementary school teachers did where he makes everyone pick up one piece of trash in the class before they can leave 

he’s extremely particular about the way his class functions, and isn’t afraid to straighten anyone out if he sees it fit 

he honestly scared the shit out of you for like a solid three months 

however you were actually one of his favorite students, but you’d never know that because his face hardly ever cracks out of the same stare he gives everyone and his voice rarely straying away from anything but monotone 

but he saw how hard you tried, how you put effort into participating and asking questions 

he saw lot of potential in you 

and when he started to notice your work get turned in later and later and the overall decline in quality, he had you stay after class one day 

he dropped your essay onto the desk before you, crossing his arms 

“what’s going on?” 

you couldn’t get yourself to divulge much, too embarrassed to tell him about your home life and how hard it was for you to stay on top of your schoolwork 

“listen,” he exhaled, leaning down towards you, his index finger pressed to your paper 

“i know you. i know you’re better than this. and i don’t just mean with your assignments. you’re bright, don’t let yourself fizzle out before you can even reach your peak.” 

his words lit a spark back into your heart, worsening the embarrassing crush you already had on him 

“thank you sir…” 

“don’t thank me, i am somewhat responsible for the decline in your work as well. i obviously need to improve as your professor to help you succeed. it isn’t just on you or whatever outside outliers there may be. from now on we’ll have some one on one sessions after class.” he didn’t ask, he stated. 

oh dear god. 

you had no idea how you were going to focus studying one on one with him, you already had trouble focusing when you weren’t floundering under the weight and pressure from your parents and other classes, but now you’ll be alone with him?? 

“y-you really don’t have to—“ 

he said your name, stern like the sound of a ruler snapping 

“if you want to pass this class i’d suggest you relinquish whatever humility and bashfulness you have and just accept the help.” 

and so over the course of two months you stayed back after class whenever you had professor ackerman, and your grades began to improve because of it 

you had expected him to cease your meetings but he kept speaking as if the routine were meant to be ongoing, never offering an end date to your sessions 

he’d began bringing you tea as well, nodding towards it silently before going over the coursework 

he was surprisingly patient, never once getting frustrated with you when you struggled to grasp a concept 

he quite enjoyed having you to himself like this, which was dangerous, he knew that 

he caught himself feeling a twinge of anticipation on the days when he knew he’d see you, and knew he should probably cease the unnecessary contact 

your grades were already improving, you didn’t need the extra help 

but what if you were to stray off course again? 

he had to make sure you remained focused… yeah… that was the reason 

but it seemed maybe you were beginning to lose that focus all over again 

he caught you loitering outside his class before you were due to meet with him, talking to some fucking boy  

you were giggling like an idiot at something he presumed wasn’t even funny to begin with 

he said your name, his voice hitting you like a gong, your gaze and attention abandoning the guy you were talking to 

his eyes flickered from you to inside his class, wordlessly motioning for you to enter 

so you left the guy with a quiet “see you later…” trailing behind levi like a puppy with her tail between her legs. 

he shut the door behind you and walked over to his desk with you behind him 

“so i see you’re beginning to shift priorities.” 

“n-no it’s not that sir, he’s in my other class we were just talking about our assignment,” 

“didn’t know assignments could bring about such laughter.” 

“i-i don’t think this is really fair..” you mumbled, a slight huff in your voice 

his stare had hardened and he leaned forward, catching your eyes once more 

“what isn’t fair is you absorbing all of my conference periods so that i can ensure you pass my course. i don’t have to offer extra assistance to you if you’re not going to make proper use of it.” 

you felt too much like a scolded child, so you rose from your seat and began making your way to the door again 

“fine. then don’t. thanks for your time, sir.” 

he slammed the door shut as soon as you opened it, his big palm beside your head 

you could feel the heat radiating off of him and scorching you through your clothes 

when you turned around he stared at you, his eyes scanning every single part of you that there was, knowing he was possibly jeopardizing his career and standing at the university, his reputation, everything 

but he couldn’t help himself, he pressed his lips to yours and kissed you, relief flooding him when you matched his intensity and kissed him back, wrapping your arms around him 

you stumbled back over near his desk, and he pushed you up against his whiteboard, pulling you by your hips and pressing you against him, letting you feel how much he’s needed you 

“you have infuriated me,” he kissed you hard, breathing against your lips when he barely pulls away

“everyday that i’ve seen you. you make everything so difficult,” he groaned, pushing his bulge up against your clothed cunt 

“i’m sorry,” you breathed out tearfully, and he scoffed, kissing down your neck 

“you should be.” 

and uncharacteristically, without an ounce of the usual reserve he typically has, he freed himself from his dress pants and pulled your jeans down enough to allow him access to fuck  you up against his whiteboard 

“god,” he choked out when he slid into your soaking, tight warmth 

“this stays between us, understand?” he grunted in your ear, silencing you with his palm over your mouth, sending a hard thrust deep inside you 

you nodded, whimpering behind his hand as he took you 

“i’ve thought about this so much,” he admitted shakily, panting in your neck, kissing along the exposed skin of your chest while he fucked you, his heavy cock stretching your cunt out 

“you make me feel filthy,” he groaned against you, stilling and letting you feel his fat cockhead deep inside you 

“it’s only fair i do the same to you.” 

he sent you on your way to your next lecture with a fat load of his cum inside you <3 

erwin ( •̀∀•́ )✧

mr. smith is the worlds best boss ever! 

he even lets you call him erwin but only when you two are alone 

you’re his personal assistant, and you’re well liked amongst your department but simultaneously envied 

erwin is kinda soft on you, it’s hard to try and dispute that 

none of his assistants lasted longer than 5 months but you? you’re steady on the track of being with him for a year ! 

yay you !! 

initially he wasn’t quite sure what it was about you that drew him to you 

maybe because you were just so… earnest? 

so honest and sweet without it being fake or overbearing 

he could tell you really wanted to make his life easier, and that what drove you was the fact that you made him out to be a better man in your mind than what he truly was 

but that’s okay, he can lean into that for you 

and after he managed to slowly but surely collect information on your personal life, he realized where your obedience came from 

poor baby just wants an older man to be proud of her 

oh and he is, you make him so proud every day! 

you listen sooo well 

like when he told you the new dress code was pencil skirts and black pantyhose, you didn’t question it, even when you noticed most of the women in the office didn’t seem to abide by it 

but it’s okay you just figured you were still doing the right thing 

or like when he has you come in and massage his shoulders and rub his temples for him between the intervals of his online meetings with foreign investors, you just figured it was another facet of the job! 

 or when he would sit you down, and rub your shoulders 

and slowly sink to his knees and gently remove your heels, neatly setting them to the side before he’d rest your ankle against his meaty thigh and rub your feet for you 

he’s just being a good boss and showing his appreciation to his assistant is all! 

“you work so hard for me, dear i assure you, this is the least i could do.” 

and when he rises back up to his full stature, standing beside you, not bothering to hide the way he was straining against his trousers, you didn’t mind, you just shyly looked away, offering him silent grace of pretending you didn’t notice it 

but he wanted you to 

he’d croon your name softly, dragging your gaze back up to him 

and when he leaned in to kiss you, you accepted happily, leaning up in his chair to kiss him eagerly 

he pulled you out of his chair and gently pushed you to your knees, cradling your jaw adoringly 

“need you to do one more thing for me, dear.” 

your hands were grappled around his hips, pretty eyes running with tears as you took his cock down your throat, moaning around his thick length 

he was bigger than any of the guys you had been with previously, and he knew that without you saying a word 

it filled him with deep pride knowing no one else had hit the back of your throat like he had, completely untouched except from him 

his deep groans uttered into the thick air and wafted around you, urging you to keep up with making him feel good despite the stinging in your jaw and the uncomfortable prickles of pain in your knees 

he thrusted shallowly into your mouth, shuddering a low breath as he watched you take him to the best of your abilities 

his heart soared at the sight of you so beautifully impassioned to suck his cock and make him cum, like it was your sole purpose and duty 

“you’re so lovely dear, even like this…so eager to please, expect a raise soon,”. he’d groan thickly, getting lost in a cloud of pleasure, trying his hardest to even his tone 

you hummed around his cock, and he nearly fell forward, leaning deeper into you with one palm flat against his desk, the other behind your head 

and when you came out of his office, stumbling and limping slightly with a hoarse throat, shyly wiping the corners of your mouth, no one really batted an eye 

they just knew erwin was simply indulging in his sweet little assistant and that it wouldn’t be the last time

[c4sings6]

୧ ˚. E.M.A twitter p. links ᵎᵎ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ warnings :: this is straight up porn, so beware!!

⟢ EREN YEAGER

₊⊹ ⋮ a lil teasing won’t hurt

₊⊹ ⋮ licking your pussy

₊⊹ ⋮ keeps a hand on your throat

₊⊹ ⋮ jerking his big cock

₊⊹ ⋮ wants to hear you scream

₊⊹ ⋮ riding ghostface!eren

₊⊹ ⋮ fingering you

₊⊹ ⋮ he’s so greedy

₊⊹ ⋮ tit job on the couch

₊⊹ ⋮ laying on him

⟢ MIKASA ACKERMAN

₊⊹ ⋮ feeling her through her panties

₊⊹ ⋮ pleasuring you

₊⊹ ⋮ riding her strap

₊⊹ ⋮ she makes you watch

₊⊹ ⋮ reverse cowgirl

₊⊹ ⋮ her pussy was begging to feel your own

₊⊹ ⋮ sitting on her face:D

₊⊹ ⋮ eating her out

₊⊹ ⋮ she’s so wet for you

₊⊹ ⋮ a dildo for two

⟢ ARMIN ARLERT

₊⊹ ⋮ tit fucking

₊⊹ ⋮ mutual masturbation

₊⊹ ⋮ riding him late at night

₊⊹ ⋮ passionate

₊⊹ ⋮ idk this is so him

₊⊹ ⋮ needy baby :(

₊⊹ ⋮ blindfoldss

₊⊹ ⋮ sitting on his face

₊⊹ ⋮ spanking you

₊⊹ ⋮ he can be mean when he wants to

tags . . . @solaraaaaa @bewitched-pearl @mimiruuna @mskhlo @pancakes21 @bbatzvil @diouna @mariistic ➥ if you wanna be in comment on this post !!

© C4SINGS6 | 2025 𓂃 main library 🖊️

[mindawn]

౨ৎ how to cum: 101! (an unnecessary course) w/ 𝓪𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝓪𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭 (mdni!)

【 armin arlert is an absolute loser. everyone knows that. his friends know it, you know it—hell, even he knows it. he always has his back hunched over some book on marine biology. he avoids eye contact like the plague. he’s just… there.

you, on the other hand, are a fucking goddess. everyone on campus knows of your existence, of your flawless beauty, of your consistently breathtaking appearance.

armin isn’t stupid (he’s actually quite far from reaching idiocy, by the way). he knows that you’re about forty leagues away. he knows that you’re the most sought after person in this university. he understands that, but awareness doesn’t automatically equal enlightenment.

and so, with a little bit of courage, he starts to make himself known to you.

it’s simple at first, a small smile when you enter the few classes you two share. then he moves onto tiny waves once you start acknowledging him. barely noticeable, but you notice. it stayed like that for about a week. simple, small, easy, not-very-intimidating gestures. and you played along. you would return the smiles, wave back, whatever.

until you decided to approach him. it was at the end of some unimportant (even though it’s probably incredibly relevant) class. you didn’t bother listening to a single word your professor spoke. you had your eyes set on him.

having already made a plan in your head, you walked over, hips swaying just enough to seem like you weren’t actively trying to seduce him.

“hi! you’re armin, right?” you asked, voice dripping with honey. when he looked up, you could tell exactly when his breath hitched. your smile grew, already feeling the warmth of success in your veins. “i was just wondering if i could get your number?”

the second you said wondering, he was already preparing for either a humiliation ritual or heaven. but once you said number, as in phone number, as in you wanted to talk to him? his eyes widened, mouth slightly agape as he processed your words. you, yes you, wanted to…

“i… uhm, yeah, i can type it in or something…” armin mentally cursed himself for sounding so unenthusiastic—and more than that, nervous—but when you seemed to grow even happier, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. as you fished your phone out of your purse, he kept wondering when you noticed him.

“i’ve seen you in the library. you’re always wandering over to the philosophy section. you really like those greek guys, huh?” you giggled, seeing the tips of his ears turn pink. did he really just say that out loud? you didn’t let the embarrassment get to him, holding out your phone for him to take.

the rest of that encounter was a blur, all he can remember is your shining lip gloss and strawberry scent. he vaguely recalls you calling out something about texting him later. but none of that really matters. all that matters is the fact that he actually did it.

he got you, the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, to notice him. and more than that, he didn’t even have to try that hard. it was almost like you were the one plotting on him!

when you said later, armin automatically assumed you meant whenever you remembered him. he still saw himself as an afterthought, even though your kind voice still echoed in his memory. but apparently, later actually meant 4 p.m.

[name]: hiiii armin!!

you: hi [name]! it’s good to hear from you :)

[name]: omg yay i wasn’t expecting you to text back so fast :O

[name]: alsooo do you think you can help me w something sometime this week? i just can’t figure it out on my own and i figured i should ask the smartest person i know

you: oh yeah, of course! whenever you have time, i’ll probably be available!

at the time, armin was entirely oblivious to whatever the something was. he assumed it would be a math assignment, or maybe something to do with the poetry class he knew you were in from jean.

out of all things it possibly could’ve been, he expected virtually everything besides this.

“you… what?” armin swallowed the lump in his throat. he was sitting cross legged on your bed, watching you with a nervous gaze.

“yeah!” you replied, all too cheerfully. “i just figured since you’re so smart, you could help me! plus, aren’t you pretty good at anatomy?”

the words coming out of your mouth weren’t inherently sinister. but your tone, paired with your earlier statement, made the situation so sultry. “you don’t have to, though. i can probably find something online, or maybe i could ask jean—”

“i’ll do it!” he blurted out. he could feel his face flush red with your eyes locked on him, even though he was staring at your hello kitty blanket under him. “i’ll try my best to… help you cum.”

that’s how armin ended up under you as you bounced on his cock. there were little opportunities to doubt himself as you essentially pounced on him. you could tell he wouldn’t be small, but you definitely didn’t expect him to be packing.

“holy shit,” you had gasped. “you’re fucking huge.”

if he was starting to feel confident before, he felt more sure than ever now. he watched your tits bounce, directly in front of his face, yet he was still scared to touch. immediately after he started thinking about reaching out, as if you could read his mind, you grabbed one of his hands off your waist and placed it to cup your boob. he whimpered at the warmth of your chest, glasses fogging up.

“f-feels s’good,” armin whined. he was starting to gain confidence in his actions, leaning up slightly to wrap his lips around your nipple.

you moaned, borderline pornographically, at the sudden wetness of his mouth against your skin. he took that as encouragement, sucking and drooling all over you. you barely noticed it when your hips started to stutter, but armin did.

“are you close?” he asked, whimpers starting to catch in his throat. when you nodded, he whispered something you almost didn’t catch.

“am i being a good boy?”

he didn’t think you possibly could’ve heard it (especially not over how vocal the both of you were being), but your response almost made him cum by itself. “yes! fuuuck, being such a good boy for me!”

his whimpers increased tenfold. when your hips rolled too good, he moaned, particularly loud and desperate.

“‘m so close! please, i need to cum!”

“not yet—ah!—wait,” it was almost impossible to understand you but he got the message.

armin was trying. he really was. but his patience was growing thinner by the second. without thinking, he thrusted up. he needed to make you cum—needed to make you feel as good as you made him feel. it seemed to be working, as your mindless babbling became more incomprehensible.

“g-gonna cum,” you warned, but all he heard was permission to finally let go. both of your orgasms came crashing down, white hot pleasure blurring your vision as you collapsed onto armin’s chest.

you were still worked up, but hearing his heartbeat helped to cool you down. you heard a small laugh bubbling up, looking up.

“you didn’t need my help to cum, huh?”

“nope. i just really, really, wanted to fuck you.” 】

𝓭𝐚𝐰𝐧'𝐬 notes !

DEBUT POSTTT yay ^_^ (there’s so much more to come btw) (already working on art major jean shenanigans…) (nerdmin will be elaborated on!!!)

my first time posting on tumblr and i’m acting like it’s my first day of kindergartenHaha

trying my very best to not continue rereading this bc i hate it more and more every time </33

[owuwi]

VI TWITTER LINKS.ᐟ

warnings: twitter porn links, fingering, usage of strap, thigh humping, face fucking, tribbing, rough sex, pussy eating, breast sucking, scissoring

── requested──

♡┃tribbing

♡┃face fucking

♡┃eating you out

♡┃she loves your tits

♡┃she doesn't bother to take your panties off

♡┃ass up face down, that's how she likes you

♡┃fucking you with her strap

♡┃pitfighter!vi taking her frustrations out on you

♡┃she loves when you hump her thigh

♡┃a quickie in the bathroom

♡┃fingering her

♡┃she always wants you

♡┃riding her leg

♡┃she fucks you so well, doesn't she?

♡┃fingering you early in the morning

♡┃no strap? doesn't matter

♡┃scissoring

♡┃fingering you

[tobesolxvely]

The cele(bra)tion fics made me think about how vi and reader are roomates and what vi’s reaction would be to coming home to reader just chilling or cleaning or something in just her underwear. And vi just shortcutting🤭

I know you’re done with the event so you don’t have to write it, but thought i would share the idea

the event is over but this idea is so good i decided to write a quick lil something!! hope u like it <33

sfw; roomies! vi x reader

“—watch Planet of the Apes?” Caitlyn asks, glancing over as the group turns the corner toward Vi’s place.

“Oh, I love those movies!” Powder skips ahead. “V, is your roomie home?”

“I guess,” she fishes her keys out of her pocket, already regretting every decision that led to this moment. “Why?”

“What’s her name again?”

“It’s Y/N,” Powder answers the question before Vi can, a mischievous grin on her lips. “Cait, she’s incredibly hot, just wait and see.”

“Oh, is she single?”

“You’re both insufferable,” Vi jams the key into the lock. “I don’t want you flirting with my roommate.”

Caitlyn lets out an amused hum. “Is that like a rule or—”

“It’s called basic respect—”

Vi’s words get stuck in her throat as soon as she steps inside.

Music fills the room loud enough that you hadn’t heard them come in. You’re in the middle of it, half-dancing and half-cleaning, shifting things around the coffee table and moving your hips to the rhythm.

You’re wearing a baby tee, too snug on you that it clings whenever you move, and a pair of low-rise cotton boy shorts, thin and barely there, riding up just slightly with every turn. 

“See what I mean?” Powder whispers, elbowing Cait.

She nods in silence, taking everything in with quiet, sharp interest.

You spin on your heel on the next beat, still caught up in the music, and then you see the three of them standing right by the door.

“Shit!” you blurt, grabbing the edge of the couch, face heating instantly. “How long have you— were you just—”

“Long enough,” Powder is beaming.

You let out a chuckle, dragging a hand through your hair. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

You gesture vaguely toward the TV before grabbing the remote and pausing the music. To the trio’s amusement, you throw yourself onto the couch, one leg tucked under you and the other stretched out along the cushions.

“Didn’t know you were bringing company,” you glance at Vi, a gentle smile taking over your lips.

“I… yeah,” Vi clears her throat, dragging a hand over the back of her neck. “Movie night. You already know Powder—”

“Hi, Y/N,” Powder waves at you, eyes sparkling with a bit too much interest.

“—and this is Cait.”

“Nice to meet you,” she offers a polite smile.

“Likewise,” you say, shifting a little on the couch. “You guys can take over the TV. I was just killing time.”

Powder drops onto the couch right next to you. “Oh, no, no— join us. We’d love that.”

You blink, a little caught off guard, “Oh, I don’t wanna intrude—”

“You’re not intruding,” Powder cuts in quickly. “Right, Vi?”

Vi, who is still standing by the door trying to recover from the last thirty seconds, stares at you. She looks like she’s just been shoved into the spotlight.

“I— uh, yeah,” she says a beat too late. “Of course, I mean… this is your place, too. You can join.”

Caitlyn glances between the two of you, amusement flickering across her face, but she says nothing. Instead, she moves to sit on the other end of the couch.

“Okay,” you smile, pushing yourself up from the couch in one smooth motion. “I can grab popcorn or some snacks.”

Vi’s brain, which had just started coming back online, short-circuits again.

The movement pulls the fabric of your baby tee tight against your chest, the boy shorts sit low on your hips, the soft cotton stretching over the curve of your ass as you turn toward the kitchen.

Bringing her sister and her best friend here, willingly inviting them to witness her complete and utter undoing was a mistake. Vi’s throat felt dry, her palms were sweating, and all he could think about was how she’s supposed to survive a whole movie sitting next to you.

The second you’re out of hearing distance, Powder turns to Vi and lets out a small laugh.

“Oh, you’re fucked.”

Vi drops her head back. “Shut up.”

“Does your roommate wander around like this all the time?” Cait crosses one leg over the other.

“…no.”

Powder leans forward, elbows on her knees, grin widening. “So you’re telling us this is a rare occurrence and we just happened to walk in at the perfect time?”

“I’m telling you to drop it.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Caitlyn adds, tilting her head. “How often does she walk around like that?”

Vi hesitates, and that’s all the answer they need.

Powder lights up, “Oh my God! It is a thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” Vi snaps. “She’s just comfortable, okay? She lives here, too.”

Before they can keep teasing her, you walk back into the room, arms full with snacks and a couple of drinks balanced carefully.

“Alright, make some space.”

Powder scoots over, making a show of it. “For you? Always.”

“Great,” you snort, setting everything down. “What are we watching?”

“Planet of the Apes,” Cait reaches forward to grab a drink, murmuring a quiet thanks.

“No way! I love Planet of the Apes.”

You drop back onto the couch, grabbing the popcorn and settling easily into the space. Vi’s still standing by the door, and you glance at her with curiosity.

“You good?” you ask, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips as she nods in response. You pat the space beside you. “Come sit.”

There’s a beat of silence as Vi looks at the very small spot, and you notice. You’re about to shift in order to create more space, but Vi drops down onto the floor right in front of the couch instead.

“I’m good here,” she says, grabbing a drink from the coffee table. “Better view, and the snacks are a lot closer.”

“Uh… okay,” you shrug, reaching over to pass her the popcorn from above.

Your fingers brush for a second, and Vi exhales slowly to ground herself.

This is fine. She’s not sitting next to you, so she doesn’t have to worry about accidentally brushing against you every five seconds or being hyper-aware of every little movement.

She can handle this.

A few minutes pass, all of you focused on the movie. Absentmindedly, you adjust your position on the couch and Vi tells herself not to think about it. It works only for a minute, because—

Your hand drifts down and brushes her hair.

Vi freezes. Her grip tightens slightly around her drink as her brains tries and fails to process what is happening.

Behind her, you hum quietly at whatever is happening on the screen —Vi is no longer focused on it—, your attention split between the movie and the idle motion of your fingers threading gently through her hair.

Vi’s shoulders drop a fraction, relaxing before she can stop herself. Powder definitely notices.

“Oh my—” she cuts herself off, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing-

Vi shoots her a warning look over her shoulder.

This is going to be a long night.

[cowgirlvi]

mdni. whiny top vi. fem bottom reader. tribbing. vaginal sex. short drabble. based off this video.

vi masterlist

thinking about vi who has a clit that’s noticeably larger than the average size. it would be such a lewd sight; a rosy-pink nub that sticks out from between her pussy lips, that jumps and twitches at even the slightest touch, constantly sensitive and exposed because it’s too big to fit behind the protective skin of her labia.

she would jerk it off between her index finger and thumb and the pleasure would almost feel like too much. she would potentially buy a fleshlight too and just grind against it at first, pretending it’s a real pussy, before ultimately deciding to stuff her clit inside the toy. it would feel heavenly, a sensation she’s never felt before, something that she didn’t think was possible for her to experience as a woman.

so when the two of you began dating, she took every opportunity possible to her fuck clit inside your pussy.

earlier, you were bent over in front of her, on your hands and knees, while vi fucked her clit inside your small hole with slow strokes. then you were kneeling in front of her while she rubbed her clit against your tongue, suckling on the little nub as if it were a piece of candy.

right now, though, vi is pinning your legs back to your shoulders, your cunt on full display while she rocks her hips against yours. she’s trying to force her clit as deep inside you as she can, needing to feel as much of you as possible. you assume you feel tighter in this position because vi is moaning louder than before, her blue eyes are entirely unfocused—and you can hear the obscene squelching noises your pussy is making when it sucks on her clit like a kiss.

vi is a whiny mess on top of you, spreading her pussy lips wide with her one hand so the entirety of her clit can slip in and out. your entrance is fluttering around her spongy, swollen clit and you’re opening yourself wider with your palms, needing more of her—as much as you can get, and then some. just feeling her inside you, knowing how intimate this is, has been enough to make you come your brains out in the past.

”mmffuck—you’re gripping me so tight, baby.” her hips are smacking against the back of your thighs with animalistic fervor.

the sight of you is completely obscene, it’s debauched. your breasts are bouncing with the strength of her thrusts, your chest is heaving from how severely you’re panting. your legs are spread wide like an easy whore, confidently in a state of your own salacious nakedness. your cute pussy is soaked in a combination of both your juices.

vi’s eyes are glazed over, her pink tongue is hanging out dumbly—consumed by the mindless lust and intense sensations radiating from her aching clit. she’s never felt so much pleasure before you, never known the sheer ecstasy of having the most sensitive and intimate part of herself engulfed in slick, rippling heat—squeezed and massaged from all sides. it’s like nothing she's ever experienced before and she’s easily addicted to your pussy.

”your pussy is so wet—unghh!”

god, she’s needed this.

the air is musky and tangy with sex; it’s vi’s favorite scent next to your own natural pheromones. her muscular frame is casting a shadow over your own and it makes you feel safe and secure. and the sounds of your lovemaking is obnoxiously loud; the clap, clap, clap of skin is echoing like gunfire in vi’s obsolete bedroom.

then you bring your middle finger to your clit, stroking it with ferocity, and you’re quick to come because the feeling of vi’s clit inside you is the nastiest thing you’ve experienced thus far in life. and vi’s whole body convulses when she feels your contractions around her clit. her own muscles are clenching and unclenching as wave after wave of mind-numbing ecstasy rips through her—all because of the way her throbbing, pulsing nub is buried inside the velvet-heat of your hole.

taglist; @marvelwomenarehot0, @marieeeluvsyou, @mxchi-mxxn, @el-amor-que-tu-quieres, @jinxvex, @mwahbabe, @teddybearbutch28, @stupendousbananasharkcop, @nahcala, @ellieslob, @idontwannabehereatm

(2/7/25)

[pockyum]

ᢉ𐭩 fem!reader, little yuji is shy around you, sukuna’s gf

“behave, brat. don’t crawl all over her when she’s here.” ryomen looks at an excited yuji, who’s bouncing off the walls in the living room.

“i’m excited! i wanna see her, i wanna see her! when’s she coming over?” he shouts, referring to you, his older brother’s girlfriend.

right as yuji asks, the doorbell rings, and he runs while shouting, “she’s here, she’s—“

on the porch, you hear muffled yelling inside from a high-pitched voice, most likely from sukuna’s little brother yuji. quietly, you tap your floor against the wood and hum to yourself, when the door opens with a click.

and the picture is a sight to see. sukuna’s hand lies on the door handle, and the other on a pink tuft of hair belonging to little yuji.

the boy’s cheeks pinken as you look at him and crouch down to his level, “hi there, i’m your brother’s girlfriend! i’ve heard a lot about you, you’re yuji, right?”

his eyes widen and he nods, “i’m… i’m yuji…” his voice quieter than usual.

ryomen’s eyebrow raises in confusion. normally his brother would be running around and asking guests questions, especially when first getting to know them, but he’s acting different.

but when his thoughts gather, and the thought renders in his mind, he scoffs with a smile and ruffles yuji’s hair.

the rest of the time is filled with you asking yuji questions as he shyly answers and hides behind sukuna, but occasionally he’ll peek out from behind and look at you with big, curious eyes.

and eventually, he puts a hand over his mouth to cover it, to try and whisper to sukuna, “she’s too pretty for you…”

sukuna’s head whips around, “what?!” as you cackle at the boy’s audacity, then he turns to you, “and what are you laughing at?!”

“it’s true though! she’s pretty and funny, and you’re… you’re big and mean!” yuji’s eyebrows furrow with determination, and sukuna rolls his eyes and lightly flicks his forehead, “i’m better!” he says while his hand cups his forehead.

“i’m an amazing boyfriend to her, brat.” sukuna pokes at his brother’s chubby cheeks, trying to aggravate him more.

you smile, “you are.”

the room becomes quieter, and ryomen places a small, soft kiss on your lips. his hand reaches out to yours and he holds it, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

but yuji crawls across his lap, onto yours. he rests his head on your shoulder, unpleased with how little attention he’s getting.

your eyes widen as it’s a switch from how he’s been acting for most of your visit, but you give in and rub your hand down his small back, and he wraps his tiny arms around your neck.

you don’t see the small smirk he sends to sukuna, and how his tongue sticks out as his eyebrows furrow.

sukuna notices.

gosh, yuji’s such a brat.

thought this was cute soo yeah

yuji’s really young so maybe a kindergartener and has a cute little crush on reader! sukuna catches it but obvi reader does not reciprocate yuji’s feelings, ryo’s her bf :)