[xodatura]

yo it’s rua ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

seasian, 20, part-time uni and corporate cog, clinging to sylus qin and visiting zayne li on weekends, i love cats and my comfort show is daria!

i wanna start writing for sylus because idk how else to contribute to the lads community, i’m open to drabbles and requests so ask me anything ( *｀ω´) if not i’ll probably conjure up something in the near future unless i forget i did this entirely haha (￣O￣;)

[annykuh]

I've got to be direct.

Its like a big train wreck.

You're standing on my neck.

[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)

[spideyyeet]

⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ FIELD TRIP

[ SUM ] - toji agreeing to be a parent chaperone just so he can be with his son’s hot sixth grade teacher for three whole days.

[ PAIRING ] - mma!toji fushiguro x teacher!reader

[ CONTENT ] — MDNI. 18+ ONLY!! NSFW. dilf toji, unprotected, pet names, toji cums a lot, obsessed, age gap (37 + 24), fantasizing, spit play, biting, hickies, breeding kink, teasing, perverted toji, morally ambiguous toji, creampies, squirting, slight dub-con (both drunk), spanking, cute toji dad moments. wc: 24k

[ A/N ] - just a head ups half way through spelling and grammar have not been checked….anyways here’s a long ass fic — lets just say in honor of the s3 trailer!!

“aha!— don’t tap out on me, teach,” toji’s laugh was deep and husky as he pounded his throbbing hard cock into the squishy velvety walls of his son’s sixth grade teacher.

your eyes were crossed, senses focused on nothing but the lewd stretch that had drool running down your cheek. “y’r such a fuckin’ ngh— mess.” you try to sputter a reply, but only a moan comes out. desperate and slutty. “is this the same mouth you’re usin’ to talk to my son?”

toji is lifting you up, arm wrapping over your chest, and his cock sliding even deeper inside, your walls stretch as your eyes bulge. your back arches from his chest, nails sliding down his forearm and bicep as you feel him so deep in your tummy. “toji…angh!” your sweet moans turn even dirtier as you cry on his lap, trying to turn your head.

“aww you wanna stop?” he grunts driving his hips rougher, your tears looked like gems as they fall from your eyes. “thought ngh i said we—“

“no…no,” you’re gasping, head turned to glance at the sweaty fighter, his cheeks flushed, sweat clinging to his skin. “kiss me….please.”

his eyes widen.

“fuck.”

his hard abs clench and you cry as you feel his cock somehow grow inside you, his veins throbbing as he drops his head to your shoulder. his hips stutter as he feels your mixed arousal that rims his base, the lewd mixed juices slide down his balls and coat his thighs creating a sticky mess that only makes his arms flex. “you’re fuckin’ killing me.”

your mind isn’t even fully registering anything, but toji was on the verge of breaking. his head roughly turns, crashing his lips with yours.

how did he end up fucking his son’s sixth grade teacher on a school field trip?

toji didn’t know how mean it was, but he started paying attention to his son’s rants just recently, only because nine times out of ten, he’ll mention his homeroom teacher. the one that called him in earlier in this year after megumi got into a fight.

it was bothersome. kids fight. for heavens sake, that’s his job, however, when megumi came back with a note insisting that his parents come speak to her, and not an assistant or nanny, is when toji dragged his ass from the gym to his sons little middle school. toji never really bothered with megumi’s school life, occasionally asking if his grades were up and listening when the boy rants a couple times about his idiot friends.

toji wasn’t negligent, he obviously cares deeply about his son, hell, his son is the only thing he cares about. so of course as his only provider, he needs to take care of him, give him the best life he could ask for, especially knowing how toji grew up, he only ever wants the very best for his only child. in other words, he doesn’t have much time to visit his son’s school all that much because of his very demanding career.

anyways, megumi was waiting by the front of the school, as toji walked up. sitting beside him was the same pink-haired kid that was always over at his house. his eyes brightened when he saw the fighter.

“hi mr. toji!” yuuji was definitely toji’s biggest fan.

“kid.” the acknowledgment was enough for yuuji to smile even brighter. “where am i supposed to go?” toji’s hands were deep in his pockets. he didn’t even bother changing out of his sweaty gym clothes, and he still had some bandaids wrapped around his knuckles.

megumi glanced up, eyes narrow. “did you even shower?”

“you said 3:30.”

“it’s 4 now.”

toji stared blankly. “show me the way or I’m leaving.” megumi stood up, yuuji bouncing up to follow too.

“hey mr. toji, you should’ve showered,” yuuji says walking backwards, his hands behind his head. toji raises a brow at his smug attitude. yuuji shrugs, continuing on. “ms. l/n likes things that smell good,” he says raising a finger. “like flowers, and chocolates and candy and maybe the ocean, and she’s really pretty, so if you smell sweaty then she’ll probably be upset.”

idiots, toji rolls his eyes. “well it’s too late now.” yuuji shrugs, looking at megumi who shrugs as well. this peaks toji’s sudden suspicion. since when was megumi aware of things like that?

toji watches as megumi and yuuji skip up to the door labeled 6C. they peak through the door window before swinging it open.

“hi ms. l/n!” yuuji shouts.

there’s a distant laugh, as toji follows the kids inside. “what’re you still doing here?”

oh shit.

toji felt like time stopped, and a wave of pink and fuzzy flowers hit him.

you were sitting cross legged at the desk as yuuji leaned over the table, and megumi leaned against the board beside you. both boys so naturally in their element it almost felt like you knew them better than he did. which might be true.

his eyes rack up, not really knowing what to say. he’d met megumi’s teachers in elementary school, but none of them looked like this. he didn’t say anything for a moment, until your eyes perk up catching him standing by the door.

“oh, you must be megumi’s dad,” you quickly stand up, your dress naturally falling perfectly, as you extend a hand out for him. “it’s great to finally meet you.”

your eyes were as bright as your voice, looking directly into his dark emerald eyes, it threw him for a loop. he glanced down at your hand before gently grasping it, his hand easily dwarfing yours.

when he touched your hand, there were noticeable callouses on his palm and fingers. you knew who he was, but you also knew that it was your job to take care of these kids. he studied your skin for a moment, noticing how smooth it was. he tried to keep his touch light somehow hyper aware now of how clammy his hands are, and that he probably stinks.

“likewise.” he replies, his voice deep and a bit raspy, matching his appearance.

you turn to look at megumi and yuuji by your desk, it gave you a momentary chance to catch your breath as you feel how warm your cheeks are. “okay boys, go wait outside, I need to talk to your dad alone.”

yuuji sighs dramatically, but the two hum walking away, but megumi briefly stops beside you, his eyes saying just enough for you to understand. toji raises a brow, but megumi ignores him, disappearing outside. brat.

you motion toji to sit at one of the desks in front which he obliges. the material of his black sweats stretch over his thighs as he sits. why the hell are you even taking note of that! this is harder than you expected.

you sit at your chair, your dress rests right above your knees, it wasn’t the kind of dress he sees on the women at his matches. it was an adorable little sun dress that fit a middle school teacher, yet it was still tight around the waist and breasts, hugging you so well he so desperately wanted to press a hand right on your tummy to see how big his palm was compared to you and yet he found himself getting irked that he definitely smells bad. fucking brats were right, he should’ve showered.

“megumi is a sweet boy. he’s very smart and soft-spoken,” you praise, “however, he also doesn’t seem to understand that we should keep our hands to ourselves. especially at school.” toji nods along, thankful he can keep his mind distracted from his son’s surprisingly attractive school teacher, “I think I wrote on the note, but he got into a fight with the upperclassman boys during lunch and he gave them both black eyes. we’re lucky he didn’t break their noses.”

his arms are crossed over his chest, his black compression shirt stretching around his large biceps, your mind blanking for a moment as you see the thick veins. you should have dress codes for these meeting because his arms were so beautifully structured, definitely for fighting and for—

toji nods at your comment. he knew megumi had a habit of getting into fights with older kids, but maybe having him as a father was rubbing off on him in the wrong way.

“I can imagine gumi was defending himself. he usually gets into fights when they’re messing with him.”

“I understand defending yourself, but causing these upperclassmen to bleed from their mouths and noses and sending them to the hospital is highly unacceptable,” your brows pinch as you speak. you’ve heard comments from the other teachers about megumi’s father. his whole life is about fighting, but you had to get through to him about his eleven year old son. “I understand things may be different at home, but megumi should learn that this isn’t the right way to solve problems.”

your eyes were so big and adorable. he leans back in his seat slightly, he had a hard time thinking anything else other than the adorable expression on your face. you were determined to get your point across, and the way your brows scrunched slightly had him reeling.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” he hums, voice low. He didn’t like being told what to do, especially when it came to megumi, but he’ll concede. just this once.

your eyes seem to light up immediately. you definitely expected that to be much harder than it was. his other teachers have said they’ve tried tooth and nail to get meetings with megumi’s dad but failed.

“that’s great!” you laugh lightly. “I was expecting a little more of a fight.” you confess.

he raised a brow, tilting his head slightly — fuck that was hot. “and why would you think that?”

“most parents get defensive,” you stand up, fixing your dress again, his eyes glance over your figure again.

“well I’m glad I’m not like most parents,” he leans forward. he’s seen his fair share of women, but this time it felt wrong. ogling at your figure and seeing your slightly low neckline felt like it was forbidden territory. who was he kidding, you were his son’s teacher and you definitely look much younger than the other teachers around here. “how do you like teaching?”

you tilt your head in surprise, gaze slowly wandering around the classroom walls. “it’s nice.” you smile to yourself. “i never took myself seriously, and would’ve never thought I’d be teaching middle schoolers, but now that i am it’s nice.” your eyes find his again, blushing slightly when you realize he never took his eyes off you.

“I wouldn’t have expected a pretty young girl teaching a bunch of bratty middle schoolers though.”

your cheeks flush at the compliment, laughing lightly. “most of them are not so bad.”

“most of them,” he raises a brow, making you laugh a little louder. his heart souring at the sound.

“they can be pretty mean sometimes,” you confess with a laugh, almost like you’re talking to a friend now. he lets out a low chuckle, leaning back in the chair, stretching out his muscular legs as he relaxed. normally he hated parent-teacher meetings, but this was much more comfortable than he expected, especially since it was you in front of him and not some old lady nagging him about his son’s behavior.

“I don’t doubt that.” he said with a slight nod, “I’ve gotten my fair share of glares and insults from gumi.”

your eyes widen. “megumi? really?”

he quirks a brow, “is it that shocking?”

“yes!” you’re pressed against the front of the desk, leaning forward as you hold the edge of your desk now, shocked. “i mean he gets into fights with some of the kids, but he’s always so respectful to the teachers.”

he raises his brow, “he might be respectful, but that could just be because it’s you.” his eyes follow the way your expression softens, fixing yourself on the desk. every little move you make catches his attention. it was addicting just watching you be you. no wonder those two brats were all over you. it should be criminal for a woman like you to be stuck as a teacher. “I can’t imagine anyone being mean to you.”

it was so easy pulling a smile from you, and yet he felt like he was the only one that should see the way your eyes dart away from his, pretending like you weren’t affected by his compliments. you were trying to stay professional, which made the idea of getting you flustered more appealing.

“you’d think,” you manage to respond. “middle schoolers are moody kids. they’ve definitely made some other teachers cry.”

he chuckled again, making you flush a little hotter just by the sound. it was so low, and you hate to sound like a stupid girl, but it was manly. you’ve seen your fair share of attractive parents, but there was just something about this man in particular that set your heart racing, but he’s also a very well known athlete, even though you haven’t seen any of his matches. everyone probably reacts the same considering he’s basically a celebrity.

“and have they made you cry?”

his dark green eyes were intense, and you met them with a light hearted smile, resisting the urge to absolutely melt. “no.”

he let out an amused sound at your answer. “not even once?” he teased, his smirk widening slightly. “not a single kid has ever been able to make you cry?”

you lean back on the desk, absolutely letting every single guard down as your dress rises a couple inches up your thigh. it felt so natural speaking to him. maybe subconsciously knowing exactly how he’s looking at you right now gave you more confidence.

“maybe I’m lucky, or I’m just not sensitive.” you glance up at the ceiling for a moment. his jaw clenched slightly, his eyes taking in the fat of your thighs just imagining the thought of pushing his body between your legs, hands grabbing at the flesh as you lay flat on your desk. do school teachers wear shorts or only panties underneath…

your eyes suddenly light up. “one kid a couple weeks ago got mad at me for giving him detention and he said i only did that because I’m not married so I have no reason to go home. that hurt my pride a bit.” you laugh.

“damnn, that’s pretty cruel.” but he doesn’t miss a second to add. “not married, really?” he hums. “no husband waiting at home for you?”

you laugh shaking your head. “no, definitely not. I’m just a baby.”

and he couldn’t help but feel relieved hearing you say that, the idea of someone else coming home to you didn’t sit right with him. “boyfriend then?” he asked, eyes burning into you. he wanted to know that no one else was there. he honestly didn’t know why he needed to know so badly, it would’ve been better if you did have someone, that way he could control himself. and yet just the thought of that made him nauseous. if there was someone else hearing your laughs in private, making you smile, kissing your lips, touching your soft skin—

“nope, just me.”

thank god!

“that’s hard to believe.”

you roll your eyes at the flattery. “no seriously. maybe that’s why I’m okay with this job taking up all my time.” you laugh, trying to mask the slight embarrassment, because you don’t exactly know if you’re being judged right now. you’re still in your early twenties, it’s not that hard to believe that you’re single—

“if it was up to me, I wouldn’t let you teach all these kids if you were single,” he’s looking at you intently.

your cheeks feel warm as you watch him sit straight, but you egg him on. “why?”

he looks at you as if you’d just asked a stupid question. “nothing,” he stood up. you were beautiful, sweet, and speaking to you right now, he’d be an idiot if he didn’t think other students dads were thinking the same lewd thoughts he was having right now. the teacher their students love is an absolute catch and she doesn’t seem to like being a teacher that much anyways.

so many taboo lines could be crossed. “so your dream is to teach kids?”

your lips part in shock. you hesitate. “no. but it’s not bad.” you feel slightly offended, almost getting defensive right now. does it show that you’d rather have a different occupation? you love these kids but…

he raises a brow, stepping in front of the desk, hands deep in his pockets. even though you were leaning against the desk, having him standing in front of you just made the height difference even more obvious. “then what is your dream, sweetheart.”

you bite your cheek, heart beating a little quicker, not even fully processing what he called you. he smirked when you accepted it, too focused on his question—

“how much longer!?” the loud yell startled you both. you stand up straight as you look over at megumi and yuuji by the open door. toji nearly forgot they were waiting. almost wishing the brats were kidnapped. his eyes dart away from you, a scowl forming on his face.

“we have practice, dad”.

he let out a light huff, his eyes darting back over to you for a moment before focusing his gaze on the two kids.

“go wait in the hallway,” he huffs, he wanted to hear what you had to say.

“it’s fine. we’re finished.” you hop off the desk, smiling gently at toji as you resume your role as his son’s teacher. he resisted the urge to push back because the way you were looking at him immediately had him submitting. “it was great finally meeting you, and thank you for coming in today, mr. fushiguro.“

he gave a slight nod, the eye contact overwhelming, so much so that you had to look away.

“now i already spoke to you megumi, and you’re gonna listen, right?” your sweet voice was absolutely mouth watering.

megumi grimaced, biting his cheek as he avoided your gaze until a rough hand landed on his head. “he better, I’ll make sure of it, teach.”

toji’s wink sent a flustered swarm breaking inside you. your cheeks stinging as your eyes go wide. a glint sparked in his gaze at your reaction.

yuuji lunged as well, wrapping his arm around megumi’s shoulder. “don’t worry ms. l/n, I’ll keep megumi in check!” his loud boisterous laugh made you laugh, especially when megumi elbowed him, grumbling about how he always needs to take care of yuuji, not the other way around.

toji let out a scoff as the two boys playfully argued with each other, megumi always seemed annoyed by yuuji, but they both knew how much they cared about each other. so instead, toji grabbed them both by the collar, dragging them to the door. the two boys were kicking each other, but the weight of the two twelve year old boys was nothing to toji, and you couldn’t help but laugh as a small heat spread across your cheeks as his large form retreated away from you.

“till next time. and ya better have an answer then,” his eyes bore into yours, the sounds of the boys looking up and asking what answer repeatedly didn’t stop you from humming, a little more energetic than you should be. he somehow had a way of breaking past your walls in a single conversation. hopefully that doesn’t make you seem easy…

“that’s if I ever you come again,” the small tease had a smirk pulling at his lips. somehow the idea of not seeing you again actually bothered him more than he realized.

“we’ll see about that.”

and with that he left. dragging the two boys who continued bickering and grabbing at the man, asking what that whole exchange meant. especially megumi who was wondering if he was in trouble or not.

however the second he left your sight, you were covering your face. your face beyond hot as your mind spun. never before had a parent had this sort of affect on you.

the way he looked at you.

the way he spoke.

he was so attractive, he was so big, his biceps were the size of your face. so beyond different from every other parent you ever spoke to. he could probably pick you up with one arm.

his presence alone was enough to have you feeling dizzy. and when he shook your hand, the way his wrapped effortlessly around yours, the calloused palm rubbing against you, his scent invading your nose.

and if that wasn’t as bad as it already was, the way he called you sweetheart had you absolutely melting between your legs!

but you have to get over it. you do.

however, unlike you, toji sits on the bench on the soccer field, only thinking about how he’ll see you again. when is parent teacher conferences, do they still have parents night in middle school? is there a talent show megumi has that he can force him to do so he can come and see you??

—

the following week, megumi stands frozen by the door. “what’re you doing?”

toji looks up, shoes tied. “dropping you off.”

“why?”

“because.”

“because why?”

“because—because—“ toji’s stuttering was ticking him off as he meets megumi’s very skeptical expression. “you’re a kid, you don’t ask questions.”

“I only ask questions,” megumi grabs his bag, watching his father intently as he looks over his surprisingly clean dress pants, along with the casual lose buttons on his dress shirt and rolled up sleeves. “i thought you were gonna be at the gym all day?”

“i am.” toji pauses, megumi’s brow is raised high. “I have a meeting before.”

“since when?”

toji’s nerve throbs, grabbing megumi’s bag and pulling him out of the house. “you ask too many fucking questions.”

the moment toji pulls up in front of the school, his eyes scan the entire lot in seconds. his hands immediately turning.

“what? what’re you doing?! Im gonna be late,” megumi shouts as toji drives around the entire school again.

“zip it kid, i had an arm spasm.” megumi glares at his dad, slouching in the passenger seat. the loop around takes another five minutes until they pull up again.

and toji will definitely lie and say it’s fate and not him purposely driving slow, because walking up the pavement is the only person he’s been thinking about for the entire week.

“finally,” megumi grumbles as he yanks the door handle swinging it open. toji being the fein he is barks a loud.

“no fights alright!”

megumi flinches.

why did he yell that?! and why now?! all the kids around start snickering and staring as they walk past them, getting a look at his dad as well, which gets a few more murmurs out.

megumi slams the door shut, pissed as he glares at his father. but that’s when a certain young teacher comes along, toji’s eyes lighting up.

“good morning, megumi,” your sweet delicate voice had megumi flushing with embarrassment. you definitely came over because you heard his dad shouting like a crazy person, and not because all those little middle school girls were ogling at megumi’s father…

“good mornin, teach.”

the low rumble of his voice had you glancing up. there was no harm in coming to say good morning. you just met with him last week, it would be impolite if you ignored that.

“mr. fushiguro,” you acknowledge, and that definitely made the man’s entire day. megumi licks his teeth in annoyance. “it looks like you both talked.” you glance at megumi with a gentle smile causing the boy to smile up at you. toji snickers. practically leaning over the passenger seat to speak to you. he knew that he was being ridiculous, but he could care less.

his smile widened as you looked up at him, his eyes staring intently, fuck he missed those eyes. “we did. gave him a good talking to, he won’t get into any fights — unless they start them.”

he leaned over the wheel, his arms resting against it, causing his shirt to tighten around his biceps. he looked good, you felt your face heat up. you should leave, and yet you find yourself staying a little longer.

fantasizing about him was one thing, but seeing him again here was making your heart race.

“i hope you guys weren’t late to megumi’s practice the other week.”

megumi is about to answer until toji cuts him off, ignoring megumi’s annoyed glare. “we weren’t, don’t worry. megumi and the other kid—“

“yuuji.” megumi mutters.

“they’re always late on their own.”

you laugh under your breath, your hand falling gently on top of megumi’s head. “are you sure it’s not because you’re taking them there?”

he huffed leaning back, “positive, besides the meeting we had was important”.

you hum, “it was.” toji smiles, eyes lighting up as he draws you closer to the passenger window as you both continue speaking not even realizing megumi has slipped away and into the school.

toji loved the way you easily spoke, the way your sweet voice filled his ears. he somehow managed to have you walk around the car to his side, so he can show you something on his phone.

your smile lights up when he shows you a picture of a three year old megumi sitting on his shoulders after he won his first title in light-heavyweight.

“oh my god, is that megumi, he’s so cute.”

toji snickers. “ya it was before he turned into an annoying brat.”

“don’t say that,” you laugh. toji’s arm was propped on the windowsill, your scent flooding his senses as you leaned close, looking at the picture. he could practically feel your soft skin touch his arm, the heat radiating off your body. if he only knew his son’s teacher was a seductress. “you look so young too.”

he chuckled again, “this was probably around 10 years ago. do i look that old now?”

you shake your head, turning to look at him. “no, you don’t. I don’t see any grey hairs.”

“is that the only indicator?” he tilts his head, staring at you so intently that you can’t break eye contact either. the green eyes were so deep and overwhelming, you felt your stomach flutter with butterflies. you feel the heat crawling up your neck because you can see that he looks older and more mature here than in the picture. but he still has a youth about him that makes your skin hot.

his eyes are still as beautiful as they are in the picture.

“you think my eyes are beautiful?”

your eyes go wide. “wha—“ you feel like a schoolgirl now, your face feeling so unbelievably hot especially when he leans a little closer, still leaning his arm on the window. now staring right up at you with his face so close to yours.

“i just…” never before have you been so tongue tied. your eyes so big as they glance everywhere in the car, heat flooding your ears.

his laugh fills your ear as he leans back into his seat, his palm gently coming up to fix your hair, thumb brushing your cheekbone only to get your attention back to him. “don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t tease you too much.”

whaaaat?!

you were dumbstruck. did he just say that?

your skin feels so hot as you fiddle with your necklace trying to cool down. “how kind of you.” you sarcastically remark, trying to save some face as you feel his hand continue caressing your cheek.

if any parent or teacher saw what was happening you have no idea how you would explain yourself, but you didn’t even have time to think about it because toji’s phone suddenly went off.

you notice his jaw clenching, making you somehow swell with pride, but also relief because he turns his attention away from you to his phone, answering.

he stares up at you, hand not leaving your cheek as he listens to the shouting on the other end.

where the fuck are you! you were supposed to be here at six! you’re not on a bender right—

“I was dropping megumi at school—“

doesn’t he take the bus?!!!

“he asked. I’ll be there —“

NOW!!

“alright!” toji hangs up aggressively, and notices that you’ve stepped back, a smile pulling at your lips.

he tsks, upset he’s no longer feeling your warm skin. “our conversations are always interrupted.”

you don’t know why him looking dejected makes you dance inside. you’re definitely reading too much into it.

you hum, “they are.” you laugh lightly, which somehow makes him want to descend into the heavens. “I should also head inside, the bells about to ring.” toji is left speechless as you fix your bag on your shoulder, offering him the most precious smile ever. “I’ll see you later.”

he just sat there and nodded, watching you walk into the school. he let out a long breath when you disappeared through the doors. his heart was hammering in his chest and his ears were hot.

this woman was going to be the death of him.

what followed after was no surprise. toji was dropping megumi off and picking him up every. single. day.

megumi definitely grew to despise it because all anyone would talk about in school now was how they saw his dad this morning, or how he came an hour early to pick him up. what made things worse is that they told their parents, and some would drop their kids off just to catch a glimpse of the famous A-list athlete. some even having the gall to ask for a photo or autograph.

what toji didn’t realize though is that he’s not going to see you every time. sometimes he’d wait a little longer in the car line to see if you were coming up, but most of the time he’d get yelled at by another teacher to keep the line moving. megumi would often rush him after school to get him and yuuji to practice. it was frustrating. especially when toji was also getting an ear full when he’d come to the gym late.

but when he would see you, he’d flirt talk to you. and just learning more about you like these were little dates to him so that you occupied his mind every single second of every hour. he finally learned your age after pushing you to answer when you graduated high school. and then some more about your favorite food. but all these conversations would last less than five minutes because you’d have to run back inside and he’s have to head back to the gym to train.

that was all before his golden ticket came in with his son.

“a field trip?”

megumi hums sitting on the bench at the gym. “ya, just sign it for me. yuuji wants to find some turtles at the beach near there.”

“ya its gonna be so much fun!” yuuji jumps beside him. both kids not bothering to talk about the history behind the location of their school trip or any of the important stuff—

toji’s eyes widen. “it says they need chaperones for the boys.”

megumi looks up, brow raised. “ya so?”

“is your dad chaperoning yuuji?”

megumi feels a weird energy surround his dad, his eyes almost look manic as yuuji shakes his head still playing on megumi’s Nintendo. “nah he’s taking choso to look at colleges.”

toji feels jittery, and nothing is stopping him now.

—

your hand was struggling in your bag as you looked around for your keys. it was getting a little late and you didn’t like staying at the school after sundown. you push the doors open. a large figure comes at you making you scream.

“It’s just me!” toji laughs, you hit him with your bag. hard. “ow!” he laughs harder.

“what the fuck, that scared me to death.” you gasp, catching your breath. toji whistles, making you glance up, annoyed.

he has to hold in a laugh. “aw come on, it was an accident.” a smirk slowly forms on his lips as you huff out a sigh, reluctantly easing up. you were so damn cute right now.

“you should know not to sneak up on women at night,” you huff feeling how hot your cheeks are, slightly embarrassed about your reaction, but still annoyed.

he smirked, watching the way you tried to fix your hair.

“sorry sweetheart,” he said in a low mumble. he could see your flushed cheeks, it made you look just so adorable right now and he almost wanted to make you more flustered.

your body tensed as he knelt down in front of you. his shoulder brushed against your leg making your cheeks flood pink. his hair looked damp, and unkept, he probably took a shower before coming here. you got a whiff as he passed down. fuck he smelled so good, but you almost missed his raw scent the first time you met.

toji could practically feel the heat radiating off your body as he picked up your keys. you must’ve dropped them when he came outta nowhere. he stood back up, towering over you, his eyes never leaving your face. he felt his smirk widen, he leaned down, your faces now a few inches apart. he felt your hands shake as he placed it back into your small palm.

“thanks,” you mutter. It was like he was stealing each breath out of you. you weren’t even registering the questions you should be asking, because you couldn’t stop looking at his face. his deep green eyes, the hypnotizing scar on his lip. he was so addicting to look at. you wanted to know what it feels like to kiss him.

he liked the way you mumbled, your voice sounding so incredibly soft. he felt his body grow hot. something slowly building up inside him, because damnit you were so unbelievably cute right now. he had to resist the urge to pull you closer, to press your body against his, he wanted to—

the door suddenly clicked behind you, making you both jump back for a second. it was just one of the janitors, you smile politely bidding him goodnight as you turn back to toji.

“sorry um—“

cursing inwardly at the disruption, he took out the paper from his pocket and handed it to you.

“megumi’s field trip.”

“oh,” you take the paper, “you could’ve waited until tomorrow and megumi could’ve brought it in.”

he shrugged, his eyes practically burning into yours right now. “maybe I just wanted a reason to talk to you.”

you freeze momentarily, well that was blunt. you rub your cheek, laughing lightly. that’s when you notice the additional document attached to the note.

“wait this is just for…”

“chaperone’s.”

you look up.

oh fuck me.

the days following were absolute chaos. well only for you. every night you went to sleep all you thought about was the fact that toji fushiguro was coming on a school trip with you. when you were in the shower you thought about him, when you walked to the grocery store you thought about him. when you were packing your bag, you thought about him!

then it finally came.

DAY 1

the entire seventh grade was going on the trip. it was also your first time chaperoning on an overnight trip so you did your best to follow your superiors leads. every teacher was assigned one parent chaperone to help on the 4 hour bus ride and then…

“I’ll go with ms. l/n,” toji didn’t even wait for himself to be assigned. your eyes go wide. you don’t notice some of the other teachers were looking at you. one of the older teacher’s who was about to read the assigned list pauses…

“oh mr. fushiguro, we had you assigned with—“

“I’d rather stay with my son’s bus. is that a problem?”

you bite your cheek. it definitely would be a problem since the contract he signed stated that he’ll be assigned the group given to him, but that is also if you’re not a celebrity as big as him.

he knew damn well that he was breaking a rule, but he couldn’t have cared less. he wanted to sit with you, he wanted to be near you, he needed to be near you. and if that meant he had to be a bit of a dick, then that’s what he had to do. he sat down on the bus, a smirk forming on his lips as he watched you place your bag on the seat beside him across the aisle.

you stood at the front of the bus as you clapped your hands twice and the students mimicked you, well not all, but most.

“okay guys, I’m just gonna say one more time. We’re gonna have 4 stops for bathrooms, so please use them when you have the chance so we don’t have a delay. okay?”

he watched you intently as you spoke to the students, his eyes not once leaving your face. you looked beautiful and he had to force himself to stop staring at you. but he couldn’t, not when you were so close to him, he could also smell your flowery fragrance that made him slightly dizzy.

“I’m going to do roll call one more time, raise your hand and answer when I call you,” you start reading your list. once all the students respond, the bus starts up and you take your seat. you couldn’t ignore him either, so you turned to toji. “I’m sure you read the email, mr. fushiguro, but I’ll just go over some really quick things with you since we have the time—“

“toji.” he blurts. you pause for a moment but then nod. you begin going over procedures for the students in case of an emergency, also how he should keep his ringer on in case a student needs to get in contact.

however the more you speak the less and less he cares about these formalities and just wants to know more about you.

“so we’ll be together for most of the time?” he asks.

you pause, your lips part for a moment. before you hum, “yes, but that’s if the students have all successfully made an itinerary with their group, since the purpose of this trip is to give them responsibility and just complete the assignments throughout these 3 days.”

“then shouldn’t we make our own itinerary?”

you laugh shaking your head, “no I don’t think so. we’ll tag along with groups here and there.”

he pouts slightly, his smirk slowly disappearing from his face when you chuckle at his idea. and you find it slightly flustering to see him upset at your response. did he seriously come on this trip to be around you? there’s no way?

he hums, shifting in his seat once more. “but the students will be all broken up into groups, isn’t that right? I’ll find something to do.”

you didn’t know what he meant by that, but the bus ride continued. it was quite enjoyable, minus the screaming that you had to continuously go back to silence. megumi came up a couple times asking for chips from his dad, and Yuuji would always come up to the front, until they just decided to sit up with you and some of the other kids came and joined as you all laughed and played. it was funny playing mafia with a bunch of middle schoolers. toji never played it before so it was amusing hearing nobara, one of the other girls, and megumi explain it to him.

“let’s just start playing!” yuuji whines, growing impatient.

toji raises a confused brow in your direction and you stifle a laugh, shrugging.

it was funny hearing nobara narrate the story, and it was even more funny when toji and you opened your eyes. he gave you a confused look.

‘we are the killers’ you mouth trying not to make a sound to not give yourself away.

and still he managed to give himself away since the first person he killed in the game wasn’t his son and it was common knowledge among the students that you either make megumi a killer, or doctor, if not you kill him right away because he always manages to end the game in two rounds because he guesses who everyone is. which was exactly what happened. toji was voted off easily and you in the next. it was impressive.

the students continued playing, they had a lot of energy, toji was even more impressed how fast you were keeping up with all of them. you also were getting some work done of your own. answering texts from other teachers.

“Okay guys, last bathroom break!” the students all file out, pushing past you as they run to the bathrooms, some heading to the little convenience store. “calmly guys!” you shout after them. you put your hands on your hips, your eyes scanning the desolate rest stop.

toji comes up behind you, “are we first or last?”

you look over your shoulder, “last, mrs. tanaka said they were able to miss the traffic we hit.” you frown scrolling through your phone as you check the messages that most of the buses already arrived at the hotel.

toji leans down, his presence overwhelming as you feel him reading your messages.

“are you worried?”

“what? no,” you close your phone, forcing out a smile as you pat his arm. woah! your cheeks flush feeling his large biceps. your hand retracts when you realize your hand actually stayed on his arm.

his tongue pokes his cheek, trying hard not to smile, because he can already feel how hot his cheeks are. “you can keep your hands on me, I don’t mind.”

your face burns. “i—I’m gonna use the bathroom.” you quickly scurry off, glancing back watching toji lean back on his heels stuffing his big hands into his pocket as he smiles back at you. fuck!

the students bring you back to reality as they fool around in the rest stop. you call the ones in the store as they load up the bus. “toji?”

he looks up at you, his green eyes so attentive you wanted to pat his head. you flush at the thought, patting a grown man’s head, as if he isn’t older than you and has a child. “can you check the boys bathroom? we’re missing two.”

toji hums, his hands come out of his pockets as he walks to the bathroom. your eyes track his large figure as he walks away. the expanse of his shoulders made your cheeks flush, imagining what he’d look like shirtless, muscles moving under your palm as he rails into you.

ahh stop it! you cover your face.

“ms. l/n, are you okay?” nobara is staring at you with a weird look.

“wha-yea im fine, hope on the bus,” you gently push her towards the bus which she immediately skips onto. you follow suite doing another head count before two other boys run onto the bus followed by toji.

he sighs, “one of them was throwing up.” your eyes grow wide, “he’s fine, i think he’s just sick of the long ride.”

you immediately move to the back of the bus to speak to the student, he allows you to bring him to the front of the bus so the motion sickness isn’t as bad. eventually the bus continues, the students fall silent. the traffic horrendous, most of you end of falling asleep, and that includes you.

only a few students were awake, but as for the rest they were dead silent. the seats were slightly uncomfortable, but toji turned to look at you.

he notices the way your head bangs against the bus window, his eyes squinting as he grows more and more concerned you’ll get a concussion, that’s a little dramatic, but still, how could you blame him, you looked so delicate. he gently moves the bag in the seat beside you and sits down. he carefully lifts the arm rest and moves his hand to cup your head. he’s careful not to disturb your sleep when he puts his coat between the window and you.

well that is until you shift your body to rest your head on his shoulder.

toji feels your body relax, sleeping peacefully on his strong shoulder. your soft breaths like music to his ears, as he rests his head back. sleep not coming easy for him he stays awake, and watches over the bus in your stead.

another hour passes until the bus comes to halt. the day now night as the kids start to wake up. you’re still fast asleep, and toji couldn’t help the swell in his chest seeing how heavy of a sleeper you are. but he should probably wake you up, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when he’s seeing your calm features resting so adorably.

“we’re here!” yuuji’s loud yell like a morning alarm.

toji flinched, suppressing an angry bark when you stirred awake from the call. you sigh softly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you wake up.

a low whistle has you blinking. the first thing you see is toji looking down at you with an expression you can’t quite read, and then standing around is some kids as they simultaneously ooo and laugh.

“teach was sleeping on mr. fushiguro!”

“teach and mister sitting on a treeee K I S—“

the taunting kids make you roll your eyes as you sit up.

“everyone back to your seats!” you huff, shooing them as you stand up, only to see the large coat slip down. he catches it, eyes boring up at you.

“sleep well?” he smiles, and it absolutely breaks your heart, this man!! you internally scream, his green eyes and the twitch of his scar, the dark black hair over his eyes had you meltinggg. and the way he’s looking up at you, an immediate blush takes over your entire body.

“mhm,” you reply softly, and his eyes glint with something you have to turn away from.

you do another roll call before getting off the bus. the kids flood into the hotel and luckily some other teachers waited for you and helped with rooms for the kids. everyone was sent on their way and you felt a relief once you unlocked the key to your room, closing it behind you—

“teach.”

you whip around to see toji standing at the doorway, holding the door open with his strong hand.

“yes?”

toji’s eyes fell to your lips, back to your eyes, pretending like you didn’t see that, but you did. “you left this on the table,” he says, extending your packet of the schedule. you really must be tired.

“oh! thank you, oh my god, that would’ve been sooo bad if I lost that,” you laugh, taking the packet. but he doesn’t let go. your brows crease adorably as you look up at him. and he’s looking at you with that look again. “mr. fus—“

“if you need anything else, let me know. okay?” his firm request sent flutters breaking inside you. you nod, and he lets go. “good night, sweetheart.”

“g-good night.”

you watch the door close, until you feel your hand reaching out and then your body is coming out as you call him. he barely took a few steps as he turns at your voice. “i uh…” what’re you doing? why did you even call him? but you’re hypnotized by his presence, you almost didn’t want him to go. what’re you talking about? you’ll see him in the morning—

“gonna finish your sentence, honey?”

you mentally slap yourself. “it slipped my mind. nevermind. goodnight.” you disappear back to your room, missing the smirk that splits the fighters face. fucking adorable. it was on the tip of your tongue.

the next morning was packed, the students came down for breakfast, they were placed in their groups and the entire class went to mandatory orientation, then to a museum as they filled out packets, before lunch came and it was finally free time. the students all splitting into their groups and exploring the small historical town. yuuji led megumi, nobara, and junpei to the beach he’s been waiting to see.

“how’re you holding up?” toji appears beside you. you slump, sighing heavily.

“I didn’t know school trips were this exhausting when I was in school,” you complain just a little. toji chuckles, his hand coming up, carefully fixing the hair from your cheek. his eyes glance down at your lips again, then back into your eyes. “it’s just day one,” he teases.

“yay,” you fake enthusiasm, as he laughs with you, still brushing your cheek with his thumb. “we should check with some of the kids.”

“shouldn’t they be figuring out that shit themselves?” toji doesn’t let you escape. “ya, but what else—“ toji’s hand slips down to yours and takes it as he leads you in a direction. “where are we going?”

“I don’t know, let’s explore,” he pulls you closer to him and if anyone looked over they would think you were a couple, and to be honest, you loved that thought. your hand didn’t even try to break away from his, embracing how he basically engulfs your small palm in his. you mindlessly follow him around until something catches your eye and you go there then there, pointing and explaining random facts.

“how do you know that?”

“oh i studied architecture and art history,” you explain as you’re standing at a shrine. toji has a hand on your lower back as he leans over looking at the statue you’re pointing at. you’ve gotten used to smelling his cologne, but with the long day his natural musk is mixed in making you dizzy. he’s gently stroking a thumb on your lower back, almost like he always wants you to be conscious of his touch.

ding ding ding

you check your phone. on the chat, yuuji sent multiple photos of his group by the water on the beach, along with the turtles they found. your eyes widen, “yuuji actually found them.”

“we’re close by them,” toji looks over, and he immediately takes your hand and you both head to the beach. when you arrive most of the groups came, everyone having the same idea. it wouldn’t be bad for toji, that is until you retract your hand. your eyes flicker over his, a silent apology.

you don’t necessarily know what you’re apologizing about, but still. the rest of the day was spent with the kids playing with the turtles. you and a few teachers explaining the wild life here, along with the turtles. then you conclude with a circle on the beach with each group presenting what they learned today and so on.

dinner came at a perfect time. the kids all filing into the hotel restaurant, taking their seats and of course toji sitting with you and a few other teachers.

honestly, looking at himself, toji thought he was a good sport. entertaining these other teachers and chaperons even after the kids went back to their rooms to sleep and you all stayed for a few light drinks. they asked him questions he definitely hated answering, but when your sole attention was on him, he made due with it.

“are ya thinkin of retiring anytime?” one of the other dads asked, fully invested in toji.

toji licked his teeth, clearly annoyed as the questions got a little more intrusive. “we’ll see,” his clipped reply almost only seemed to clock in on your part as you sensed his mood shift. especially as the questions got more intimidate asking if megumi takes after him, or if he’ll allow him to start fighting early.

that’s when you decided to stand up, covering your mouth with a fake yawn. “It’s getting pretty late. I’m gonna knock out.” you speak to the table, but give toji a brief glance, inviting him to take the out, which he immediately does.

“I’m knocking in too then,” he stands up, easily leading you both out of the restaurant, unbothered by the looks the adults give him.

“fuck, they’re nosy as shit,” he mutters to you as you both step out and into the elevators.

“yea, sorry,” you cringe, but he shakes it off.

“no need for you to apologize,” he shrugs, rubbing his nose. you glance over at him, smiling as you rest a hand on his forearm.

“thank you again for volunteering. honestly, it’s premature since we still have two more days, but you’ve been a big help so far,” you say, and toji can’t help cracking a smile.

“it’s my pleasure. spending time with you doesn’t feel like work,” he coolly replies, allowing you to look him over with your adorable eyes.

“of course that’s not what I meant,” you mutter, he can see you trying not to smile.

“don’t tell me the best part of the day wasn’t walking with me?” he leans closer to you. “do you hold hands with every student’s dad?”

“no.”

“so am I special?” he pushes, hand gently playing with your hand.

the elevator stops on your floor. you sigh as you bring a hand up to his chest.

“our floor.”

“our room?”

“no,” you brush him as he follows you with a smirk. hands deep in his pockets as he looks at you from behind.

“you can have the extra key to my room,” he waves it to you as he walks you to your room.

“and why would I take it?” your smirk widens, glancing up at him.

“of course for safety. in case you feel like you need a strong man to protect the model teacher who’s all alone at night in an unknown town,” he smiles, hand against your door caging you in.

“yeah?” your tone was low and breathy, only luring him down to your eye level, humming deep in his chest. “but then I won’t be comfortable sleepin’,” you pull him in with your words.

his voice drops, taking the bait, “and why’s that?”

“well because I sleep with a t-shirt,” you pause, “only.”

Toji’s smile cracks, heat flooding his ears as he drops his gaze to your lips. “that’s not a problem for me.”

you can’t believe you’re actually flirting with a student’s dad. you didn’t feel like a teacher, no, you really felt like a girl in her twenties (which you well are) easily teasing a man into bed.

“having a stranger so close to me in bed?” you whisper, smiling when his lips hovers so close to you. “that’s scary.”

“nah, it’s for safety,” he leans in, breath fanning against your face.

unfortunately, when his lips hovered over yours, the booming footsteps and shouting immediately pulled you apart. toji pulled away as you both looked over to your right seeing four boys racing through the hotel floor.

“hey, boys!” you whisper shout, sliding by toji as you speed walk to the boys. all but leaving the six foot-five fighter pressing his face into the door.

after sending the boys back to their rooms with a heavy lecture, you walk back to your room slightly disappointed when toji wasn’t there. it was a long day, you didn’t blame him for going to bed early. but when you saw his room card in front of your door when you stepped inside you couldn’t contain you the heat that spread across your cheeks.

… DAY 2 …

most women found toji attractive. hell even men were jealous of his physique and face card. but does any of that excuse the slight annoyance you felt going through the aquarium and seeing the workers near the starfish flirt with toji as the kids in your group stuck their hands in the tank to pet the starfish and other aquatic creatures. probably not, but fuck it.

the small disgusting twist in your gut that came up when you saw toji smile and let out a laugh almost had you rolling your eyes. so being the pity twenty-four year old, you decided to open your mouth.

“toji,” you call his name before you can think twice about it. you force a smile when he turns to look at you. “can you come help me over here,” you call out from across the tank.

“oh, I can help you miss,” another worker at aquarium pops next to you making you jump from the surprise.

toji continues looking at you and he notices the way you shake your head. “oh sorry, it’s has to do with the students…paperwork…I mean,” you clear your throat nodding your head as the worker gives you an odd look that you can immediately note was a ‘she’s weird’. but at least you don’t catch the way toji is biting back a smirk as you call him again.

he easily struts over, his black t-shirt and black cargos, hugging his frame so when he stood beside you you were almost thankful that he blocked your view from the workers.

“yes, teach?” you can hear the smug smile in his voice before you even look at him.

“well,” you start, subtly glancing around for some lie you can make up, but toji crossing his big muscular arms showing off his veins and giving you a look you don’t even want to begin to decipher, wasn’t fucking helping. “just stay here. I forgot what I needed, but if I need something…just be near me,” you clear your throat looking up at him with confidence. “that’s your job…as a parent chaperon, okay?”

“okay,” he says with the biggest smile.

maybe you should’ve just let him talk to the workers, but you’d never admit that it made you jealous that this thirty-something year old man was focused on something that isn’t you. even when you both were walking behind the students on a hike to some shrines in the mountains, you were glad as fuck that he stayed right beside you and not upfront with the guides.

“you could’ve just said you didn’t want me talking to other girls and I would’ve listened,” Toji’s voice slips on the air as he walks beside you.

you scoff, “well that’d be ridiculous to say, especially because that wasn’t why I said it. if you remember, it said on the parent slip it that chaperons are the teachers assistants, basically.” you glance confidently at toji and he’s kissing his teeth as he holds back a smirk. you were a fucking brat. he definitely would’ve lost that bet. “so just stay near me.”

“I was near you at the aquarium,” he pushes, because shit, he’ll always tease the bait.

“you were distracted, that’s not being present, and it’s against the rules,” you roll your eyes, moving to tie your hair up the longer up the mountain you’re going. you loved a good hike, but the heat was a death sentence, so was this windbreaker.

“i was just asking the sweet worker about the starfish…to educate the kids of course,” his choice of words was definitely on purpose.

the group makes it to the shrine as they all scramble to look around.

you turn on your heel looking up at toji. “it didn’t look like that.” you try to hold back your criticism, not realizing that he’s trying to get a rise out of you because this revelation he’s discovered is definitely not something he’s gonna let go of.

“what did it look like then, hm?” he leans in, crossing his arms as he pushes his hair back, the sweat from the heat making his hair shine and his muscles constrict in his tight shirt. “did it look like i was flirting with her?”

you deadpan, “yeah, it did.”

“is that an issue?” he pushes.

“if it’s when you’re working, then yes it is,” your words are clipped, he was almost getting a hard-on with your attitude.

“so if it’s not in front of you or the kids?” he muses.

“yes.”

“because you’ll get jealous then,” his words once again make a vein unironically bulge from your forehead. you cup your cheeks.

“that’s not why—I just said why,” you exhale, and he finds it hilarious how well you control your emotions with your students but when it’s with him, you have to take some deep breaths. “I’m not jealous.” you state. “it’s professionalism.”

“so us holding hands is?—“

your eyes narrow.

“I’m not complaining, I just don’t know if I should also be holding Mrs. Takada’s hand too?” he doesn’t loose eye contact as you stare into his soul. “tell me what I can and can’t do, teach, I’m a good listener, I just need to be told what do to.” you were frustrated because you couldn’t tell if his choice of words were purposely submissive, especially with that smug look on his face as you tried hard to read him.

“you can’t hold anyone else’s hand,” you finally mutter, not before rubbing your cheek as you turn to look at the other students circling the guide as the other teachers tell them to quiet up and listen. “you’re my assistant, so that’s the reason.”

“understood,” his reply is punctuated by a step towards you, his lips ghosting you ear as his other hand sneaks around your waist. “I’ll keep my hands on you, so I don’t get you all mad at me again.” his cool voice went straight into your core as you felt your face burn red.

“I wasn’t mad,” you push his hand off you; finally distancing yourself from the shameless man.

however, toji listened. he was polite with the other teachers, curt and short with the female guide that tried to talk to him more when the students were roaming around the shrine, but it was pretty easy for him to side-step her and follow megumi and his friends as the huddled around a lizard they found.

“woahh is he gonna shapeshift?” Yuuji reaches out for the lizard only for it to run away. toji stays around the kids especially when they continue their hike up to another shrine at the top of the mountain. of course, it was fun hanging out with his son and his friends. but it also made your attitude more obvious the longer the hike went on.

especially when there was a broken step and toji was helping the kids up, only for your turn to come and you telling him you can go up yourself.

he had to bite back a scoff, he almost forgot you were basically straight out of college, and definitely stubborn as shit. but still his hand hovered behind you as you climbed up and you didn’t look back once. it was almost making him want to rub himself because of how fucking bratty you’re being. but still he continued to flirt with you, because why else did he come on this trip.

“dad?“

toji looks behind him to see megumi and yuuji still by the shrine while the rest of the group is already heading back down the mountain.

“yeah?” tojj raises a brow for megumi to continue. that’s when yuuji interrupts with your name.

“she went looking for nobara, but they’re not back yet,” yuuji shakes his head like a dramatic eleven year old. “I told nobara there’s no bathrooms behind the shrine, but she just went anyways.”

toji concerned now glances behind him to see the group now fully gone and the sun setting. now that he thinks back, he hasn’t seen you since they entered the shrine for a tour. “when did the girl leave?”

“like awhile ago,” yuuji sighs again dramatically, not fully grasping that that’s not a very helpful answer.

toji looks at megumi.

“it was around twenty minutes ago, when teacher followed after her,” megumi answers.

“you’re just repeating what I said,” yuuji narrows his eyes at megumi who brushes him off as he looks up at his dad who’s glancing around the empty shrine. the stand was already closed and it was getting dark.

“stay with me, kay, hold my hand,” toji extends his left hand for megumi to take, while yuuji held onto megumi’s hand. toji quickly pulled out his phone to text the WhatsApp chat with the other chaperons and teachers letting them know he was with two other students and will be down. right after he called you. with one ring it immediately went to voicemail. “are you fuckin’ with me right now?”

he walks around the shrine with megumi and yuuji in tow as he called again and same thing. your phone was definitely dead because you always answered your phone. that or—

now with the sun completely set, toji pulled out the flashlight from megumi’s bag as he went deeper into the woods behind the shrine. yuuji was clutching megumi’s arm as megumi held on his dad’s shirt. toji called your name, a little louder the deeper they went in.

“dad?” megumi glances up to, but toji ignores his worries as he continues shouting your name and yuuji easily mimics toji’s concern as he shouts for nobara.

“nobara!!”

after another fifteen minutes in the woods, toji receives a call from one of the teachers and immediately answers.

“hello, just checking if you guys are still up there?” she asks, and includes if you and nobara are with him because your phone had died the moment you arrived at the shrine.

“I have megumi and yuuji, but we’re looking for the other two,” toji’s voice was strained. he really should’ve listened to you and stayed by your side then this wouldn’t have happened. it makes it worse when the teacher on the line starts panicking. toji can overhear the tour guide speaking to the teacher saying they’ll send someone back up, but it’ll take them thirty minutes to walk back up.

“mr. fushiguro you should come back down the mountain so you and the boys don’t get lost-“

toji hangs up.

“mr. tojj i heard something,” yuuji yelps, suddenly clutching toji’s other arm and going on a rant from the nerves. “megumi was talking about the spirits and how they’re hiding in places where no one lives anymore and-and we passed by those broken shacks on the way up.”

toji’s jaw clenches, eye shutting as he exhales. “I told you not to watch that shit horror movie ‘gumi.”

megumi cringes, “I didn’t—“

“we did last night—AH!” the sudden crack behind them sends yuuji flying ten feet in the air and megumi clutching his dad even tighter almost pissing his pants.

toji turns abruptly at the noise, holding onto yuuji who’s basically on top of his shoulders and megumi wrapped under his arm, face smushed into his side clutching his shirt.

“toji?”

the familiar voice sends a flood of relief rushing through toji as he immediately moves forward as two black blobs turn into you and megumi’s friend. yuuji and megumi’s are still holding onto toji like they might die, but he’s still able to make it over to you, his hand coming up to cheek as he shines his flashlight on your face making you hiss pushing it away.

“shut up, I’m seein’ if you’re hurt,” he grunts pushing your hand away.

“I’m fine, just forgot my phone died when I went after nobara,” you say, but still letting toji examine your face before he kneels down to check on the girl.

“you still don’t fucking go off by yourself,” he grunts brushing the girls cheek as she crosses her arms.

“why can megumi’s dad say fuck, but I get in trouble, miss?” nobara snaps, making you frown down at her,

“because I’m not a little girl that ran off into the woods by herself and almost got lost,” toji clips back, having a harsh stare off with the girl who frowns even more, but eventually averts her gaze.

“I had to use the bathroom,” she mutters.

“I told you there was no bathroom!” yuuji points at nobara suddenly interrupting as he still holds on toji,

“you’ve never been here, how the heck would you know??” nobara scoffs.

“because I know everything, I told you that,” yuuji tsks.

“you’re an idiot,” nobara frowns, annoyed and already embarrassed about getting lost.

you sigh stepping in, “okay, enough guys. we don’t call each other names, we’re not in elementary school.” you gently tap toji’s shoulder and he stands up. the flashlight was pointed at the ground, but the shadows that contrasted his face made him look even more handsome. “let’s head down,” you look away, “you remember the way?”

“course.”

maybe toji should’ve called the teachers the second he found you and nobara, but it slipped his mind since he had to lead you and the three kids back down the mountain. especially with how scared yuuji and megumi were after watching that horror movie in the hotel room last night. nobara on the other hand was picking on them to make herself feel better about causing this whole mess. and you, you did your best to keep them close to toji, because even you were holding onto him to keep yourself from tripping on the unbalanced steps made over six centuries ago. but at least all that masked the underlying tension between you and your students father, especially when you held onto his arm a little longer after his arm wrapped around your waist before you tripped on a large tree root.

“thanks,” you sigh, catching your breath.

“I can pick you up if you’re tired,” he leans close, and you would say he’s teasing, but the way he’s looking at you even in the dark, you knew it wasn’t a joke.

“funny,” you say, but still hold his arm as you continue walking. the three kids right in front of you both.

“oh I see the gate!” yuuji jumps, grasping onto both nobara and megumi.

easy to say, once you arrived back at the hotel and the kids all filed into the hotel restaurant for dinner, you received an ear full privately from two of the teachers. you couldn’t really pinpoint what you’d done wrong, you went after Nobara the second you counted your kids again to see she wasn’t there then to hear from yuuji and megumi that she went off alone. maybe you should’ve told another teacher, hell toji first, and had a charged phone before going, that would’ve been smart.

okay, you deserved the lecture.

afterwards, you decided to head to your room. you weren’t that hungry anymore, and the other teachers would send the kids off to bed.

the second day was brutal. the early morning walk, then the aquarium, and then the shrine visits, then getting lost in the woods—

“fuck,” you groan, growing exhausted from just thinking about the day as you crawl into the covers after a much needed shower. unfortunately for you a loud knock hits your hotel door.

you want to ignore it, give an excuse in the morning that you’d already fallen asleep, but there’s another knock and it’s followed by a deep voice calling your name. it almost sent shivers down your spine as you stood up and walked to open the door.

“you didn’t eat?” his eyes fixate on your cute face, eyes half blinking with exhaustion, but then he lets his eyes roam further down. shamelessly checking you out.

“I wasn’t hungry,” you answer, leaning against the door as you hold it partially open, aware of any other teacher or parent that could pass by and see you in your old university shirt and skims boy shorts. “is everyone else heading back up?”

“most of the kids finished eating and went to bed. gonna check on megs and yuu to make sure they’re not watching another r rated movie,” toji says, still looking at you like you’re made of sin, though it’s not far off from the truth. “you normally let parents see ya like this?”

you try not to let the heat in your core take over, especially with the way that he’s eyeing your lips and leaning against the doorframe. his hand reaches out, holding the hem of your shirt, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. he says the name of your university. “when did you graduate?”

you’re desperately trying not to show how flustered his casual demeanor is making you, but feeling his knuckles skim over your exposed skin. he was towering over you, still in his cargo and tshirt from earlier. his shoulders were even more sculpted and because you showered, you can smell his musk even clearer. you’ve always had a sensitive nose, but something about how manly he smelled, the mix of his worn cologne and natural woody smell made you blush.

“you’re exhausted,” he interrupts, making you blink up at him. he chuckles lightly, and you’re beyond thankful that he didn’t realize you were thinking about something completely different. especially when his hand lets go of your shirt to take a step back. you’re almost surprised he’s the one putting space between you both, and you almost feel like you’re being rejected right now. you didn’t even stop to think if he was bothered with your attitude today. were you crossing a line? “goodnight, sweetheart.” he gives you one last smile, turning around.

“toji?” you stop him.

“hmm?” he turns. his undivided attention on you.

“thank you for today. with me and Nobara in the woods, we definitely would’ve been lost if you didn’t come looking for us,” your voice was light, and soft. he almost found it amusing how you’re a sweet girl one second and the other you’re giving him attitude. but still he lets a smile take over his face and you almost have to look away because the dimples that appear on his cheeks was too hypnotizing you could feel your face catch on fire.

“stop thanking me. plus I should’ve stayed by you like you said, then you wouldn’t have gotten lost.”

you frown, “it was my fault.”

toji smiles, “goodnight, ma.”

you flush at the new nickname. fuck, why are you so easy to please. especially when he’s walking away and waves his room key over his shoulder.

“Room 322, no need to knock.”

Unfortunately for you. you immediately crashed into bed once you closed your door. the exhausting day easily luring you into a deep sleep.

…DAY 3…

the multiple meetings you had with the teachers this month leading up to the trip all warned about day 3. it was going to be the longest day. not only were you guys going to an interactive zoo, you also had another hike near the lake with kayaking, and a final nighttime hike from a short astronomy lesson.

“everyone head down for breakfast,” you knock on all the hotel doors. some kids luckily already awake as they immediately popped out and started heading down with their backpacks.

you hesitated, but eventually knocked on toji’s door. no reply. biting your lip, you knock again, and that’s when the door wings open, and you’re met with a bare naked toji—

well he had a towel wrapped very loosely around his waist, he was basically naked. especially with your reaction that you had no way of controlling. your eyes couldn’t not follow the multiple water droplets that ran down his huge pecs, down to his very sculpted and ripped torso, and even further down his pelvis. his happy trail glistened from the water as the hairs grew thicker the lower—

a low whistle suddenly had your eyes snapping up. staring back at you was the very handsome man with the most shit eating smirk as his looked down at you.

“you wanna come in?” he teases, but his own ears turn red when you just stare into his eyes like you were actually considering what he’d just said.

“y-“ you clear your throat, coming back to your senses as you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes still scanning down his body, especially with the way his body filled the entire door frame. his huge veiny hand lazily holding the front of the towel so it doesn’t fall…it was so loose, he hurried out of the shower when he heard the door. “were you on a run again?” you could’ve easily ended this heated interaction by getting straight to the point, but the dumb twenty four year old part of your brain couldn’t help, but talk to the hot parent that’s basically been flirting with you non-stop for the last few months. especially when he looked like this right now.

“ya, can’t loose myself on this trip or my team will have my fuckin’ head,” toji thinks about how much arguing and convincing he had to do with his best friend/coach sukuna to let him chaperone this trip.

“pretty strict, do you not get any vacations?” your curious, and you lean against the doorframe, pretending like you don’t notice the way toji is holding back a smile.

“no I get vacations, but if there’s a match in a few months then it’s training 24/7. even during trips,” he answers, “you ever been to a match?”

your lips part, “no. I’ve watched some on tv. mainly in high school since my dad is a huge fan.”

“and you’re not a fan?” his teasing is intrusive, maybe because he wants you to admit to liking him, even if it’s just his image first—

“I’d have to see a match first before saying anything,” the light shrugged you had only made him even more attracted to you.

he raises a brow, “you can just tell me you want to come to my game. no need to tip toe around it.”

your cheeks flush, “that’s not—“ your cheeks blow up as toji breaks out laughing, leaning forward to meet you at the level. his huge body towering over you, his eyes scanning over your face.

“I’ll get you vip seats, but I have’ta get somethin’ in return.”

your chin tips out just a little so you can lock eyes, raising a brow, telling him to go on then.

you were killing him, without even realizing it, his fist clenched around his towel, feeling his blood filling up his dick, he had to refrain from making it show.

“a date.”

oh.

your lips part. you didn’t know why you were shocked. maybe because he’s been flirting with you for months, you probably thought deep down inside he wasn’t the type to take women out on dates. maybe it was just a bar and a fuck, not that you were complaining if that was the case. but still, his answer seemed to make your face even hotter than before, and you felt little stupid.

“i don’t know if that’s appropriate…” you mutter, almost defeated, his eyes glanced over yours as you looked away.

“you’re not gonna be megumi’s teacher forever. just another two months until school’s out,” his voice was deep, you hadn’t realized he’d been bending closer. your back pressed against the doorframe as his hand came up, firmly caressing your waist. “one date when we get back. let me treat you, you’d like that?”

you bite your cheek, back arched against the doorframe as you glance back at him. his hooded eyes and deep face, his handsome features practically seducing you.

“one date,” you repeat.

“and more if you like me so much,” he smirks, face inches from yours.

your voice is breathy, heart racing because he smells so good, so clean, “f-fine,” your cheeks flush at the stutter but he only smiles. his hand travels up to cup your cheek.

“you flustered?” his canines are hard to hide when he’s smiling like that.

“no-“ you push his hand away, pressing a hand to his chest to push him back. “g-get changed or you won’t have time for breakfast,” you huff, stepping away and speed walking away from him.

toji licks his teeth, shutting the door once you disappear. he’ll just grab an apple before leaving, because now he has to handle this mess. he clenches his jaw as he drops his towel, firm hand grabbing the base of his hard cock. “fuck.”

—

similar to the aquarium, at the zoo you had to keep an eye on your students while the zoo workers gave the lessons to the groups. they lead you to different sections, giving brief lessons on the different species so the kids can fill out their packets.

on the other hand, you were enjoying how close toji was. always an arms length away. the only time you separated is when one of the zookeepers asked if you wanted to feed the giraffe to give a demonstration to the students before it was their turn.

your face lit up as you stepped up.

“Up here, sweeetheart,” the zookeeper easily flirts as he helps you up on the platform, a hand resting on your lower back as he places your palm over his putting some food in it. “Now you’re just gonna extend it out, and he’ll come right to you,” he smiles as you hum.

little did you know that toji was practically seething. his jaw set tight, muscles tensing at the way this shitkeeper was drooling over you. anyone would fucking drool over a hot school teacher, especially if they looked like you.

“here he comes,” the zookeeper points, all the students ooo as the giraffe leans down, then eats from your hand. you gasp at the odd feeling, backing into the zookeeper on accident, pressing yourself against him.

“sorry—“ you chirp, still afraid of the giraffe as he tries to lean in for more.

the zookeeper laughs, “it’s alright,” his arm holds your waist, and toji is rolling his eyes so hard.

“give me a break,” he mutters.

megumi standing in front of him looks up. “what?”

toji doesn’t spare him a glance, his eyes zeroed in on you feeding the giraffe again, totally fine with the zookeeper all over you, literally.

“what the fuck,” his nails dig into his bicep, the expression on his face was not subtle at all that even yuuji is cackling.

“mr. toji are you jealous? do you wanna feed the giraffe too?” yuuji blurts, making nobara beside him turn and cackle too, pointing at megumi’s dad. a few of the other students in your group laugh at toji.

toji glares down at the children, not catching the subtle way you’re shifting on the platform. you place a hand over the zookeepers wrist as you step away. “okay, I think that’s it,” you say, the hairs on your body standing up the second the zookeeper kept himself pressed against you when you bumped into him.

“you can feed him so more-“-

“no I’m good—Toji!” you blurt, cutting the conversation off quick because toji’s head snaps back up to you. “i need some help getting down.”

any command that slips past your lips is so easily executed. toji was standing in front of you in seconds as you kneel down on the platform. toji easily grabs your waist as you place yours on his shoulders and he carries you. his brow quirks up at you.

“fucking keeper is a freak,” you mutter to him as he places you on the ground. and though internally toji is ecstatic about that, another part is seething at the fact that the keeper puts his hands all over you and made you very uncomfortable that you had to call toji to pick you up even though the latter was right beside you.

you stood beside toji, arms crossed as two students went up the platform, one at a time to feed the giraffes.

“I can have a word with him,” toji leans down, his hand on your lower back, rubbing gentle circles.

you barely give a laugh, “I’d rather not cause a scene.”

“it would be a word.”

you shake your head, “it’s fine.” toji licks his teeth nodding.

but when you went to the next section. and the zookeeper wasn’t following you or toji, you already knew what must’ve happened when another keeper came to your group.

“I said it was fine,” you tell him.

“well I wasn’t fine,” he shrugs easily, his eyes glancing down at you, ready to brush your cheek before realizing where the fuck he is.

the rest of the day was hell.

pure hell.

the zoo was long, lunch only energized the kids for the two hour hike. it was a great view, but there was another bathroom problem and the kids had to take turns going in the woods. then the last thing before lunch was kayaking.

everyone was excited, a few kids sat out with another teacher since they were too scared even if they were given a life vest. but everyone else was way to excited to head into the water. maybe that’s why most, if not all the kids ended up tipping into the water.

“everyone grab onto your kayaks,” the tour guide exclamined, but the kids were laughing and splashing. some bopping up and down in their life vests.

you were almost thankful for yours not tipping until it did. the students were laughing their asses off even more.

“miss.l/n fell into the water!!” they all laugh.

everyone but toji, because when everyone makes it back to shore. they’re drenched head to toe. including toji who jumped in after a student who said they knew how to swim but didn’t.

but what wasn’t funny was seeing your t-shirt stuck to your chest, showcasing your figure for all the parent chaperones to see. specifically some other dads on this trip. fuck.

“I hate wet jeans,” you grumble, as you squeeze the ends of your baggy jeans as the water pools down. you clip your wet hair up as you hold onto toji’s arm. “thanks for getting tyler, he should’ve taken a life vest.”

toji hums.

“is everything okay?” you stand up straight now. and that’s when you notice toji eyeing your chest. you flush, but also scoff.

“there’s other people looking,” he huffs.

“jus’ you.”

“not jus’ me, others,” he eyes the other parents helping the kids dry off before loading back on the bus to get dinner then go on the night hike back at the hotel.

“yeah yeah,” you wave him off, walking away. but toji remains close, guarding you. he didn’t calm down until you got changed before dinner. your modest skirt, tight cleavage covering top, and cardigan. it was adorable.

“mrs. jackson and mr. white said they’re getting us drinks after the hike,” one of the other teachers, ally, cheers to you as you’re on the night hike. Mrs. jackson and mr. white are the oldest of the teachers and usually offer up drinks to celebrate a successful hard working field trip.

“oh really?” your eyes are wide.

Ally nods enthusiastic, “this was such a fun field trip, but I’ve been dying for a drink.” she’s practically buzzing, even though she’s very happily married and in her mid thirties, you don’t fully regret what you’re about to say until you do.

“I think I’ll pass,” you say.

“what?”

“I’ve never been a fan of drinking,” you admit, toji overhearing a few paces behind you with another parent chaperon.

“what?! you’re the youngest here, though!” Ally is unbelievably put off by your response that you have to salvage it, until she adds. “well at least have one drink with us. it was your first field trip as one of the teachers here, and we just want to celebrate. you don’t even need to get another drink. okay? Okay.”

you bite your cheek nodding.

“yay!!”

and that’s how you ended up here. sitting at the center of the ten seat table with all the young teachers and parent chaperons. completely fucking wasted.

“this w-was such a fuuun trip,” you hiccup as the table is laughing and drinking. you were all laughing. “I’m like so happy—“

the table is cackling and toji seated beside you is realizing in seconds. “you’re a fuckin’ light weight,” he clocks. the other teachers laugh noting that as well.

“nuh-uh, I-i can drink another,” you hiccup again, taking his drink and gulping another few sips until he’s clicking his tongue.

“Christ,” he slides a water to you, “drink.”

and the night went on with you tipsy and the others getting unbelievably drunk into the night. even toji was getting tipsy. he had too, with all the parents asking too many fucking questions about his life that he needed something to take the edge off before his fist collided with one of their faces. but when you went to grab the drinks from the bar for the table, and tripping on your way back, toji realized maybe it was time to call it night.

“what? but we’re still having fun,” you whine as toji lifts you up, arm wrapped around your waist, your cardigan slipping off your shoulder.

“fun until you’re puking all over yourself, if ya drink more,” toji stumbles himself. not realizing he’s just as drunk until he’s tapping your key into door, easily dragging you to your bed. “get some rest,” he sighs, lips coming to plant a kiss on your forehead. your eyes are bright, almost too bright as you watch him trudge out.

fuck he’s glad he can at least walk back to his room.

which left you peeling your clothes off and pressing your face into the bed as you rolled around in your pajamas. you weren’t tired. not at all. today was long and exhausting, you were completely exhausted during dinner, but now. now you’re feeling alone…

you turned your head on the pillow, when you caught something on your nightstand.

toji’s room key.

he laid back on his bed, hand pressed to his face, he felt good, but he knew in the morning the headache will come and his moves will be lazy. fuck, he really should’ve cut it after his third drink, but the only reason he kept going was because you were still there.

even though he’d got what he wanted. you agreed on a date. he still couldn’t bare to rip himself away from you. especially when he saw how adorable and talkative you get when you’re drunk. you already had the sweet teacher thing going, plus the bratty attitude underneath, but you drunk was all of that plus a little more unfiltered shit that he just couldn’t miss. and he couldn’t leave you alone with those creeps gawking at you again.

and when you leaned against him because you were laughing. fuck he almost flipped a table when one of the parents kept eyeing your chest. even though you couldn’t see any skin on the shirt, it was so tight hugging your breasts—

that’s when he heard his hotel door click.

his brow rose, leaning up.

the light poured in from the hallway, but the wall still covered who was at the door.

the door slowly creaked shut, and toji was about to sit up even more when—

“toji?”

shit.

“teach?” toji responds.

that’s when your face peaks out as you step further into the room so the wall couldn’t hide you. toji’s eyes immediately scan your figure, eyes locking in on your bare thighs in those skims boyshorts and university tee.

“I thought you were crashing for the night?” toji rubs his face because he’s unsure now. unsure if you or him are sober enough for this. even when you slowly kneel at the foot of the bed.

you hum, “wasn’t tired. and I got lonely and…scared,” you exhale crawling up, until you stopped right at his bent feet, his back reclined against the stack of pillow, arm behind his head as he watched you. “I used your key.”

“I can see that,” toji stretched out his legs only dressed in loose black sweats, he pats his lap. “come’ere.”

and you fucking do.

you slowly crawl up his lap, until you’re straddling him and pressing your hands on his stomach, cautious at first.

“scared?” he starts, hand hesitating, before easing it onto your bare thigh. and just that contact with your smooth skin, made his cock start to ache. “i thought you said you don’t get scared sleeping alone.”

you shrug, cute soft hands still feeling the ridges of his abs, your cheeks flush as you hum. “does it matter why i came?”

“not really. I’d just like to know, would you mind telling me?”

your lips purse as you glance at him and his cheeky smile, “i was lonely…and i saw your key and i thought of you so I came to see you. there, full truth.”

he raised a brow, hand easing up under your shirt to hold your waist, thumb caressing absentmindedly. “there’s something else.”

you lean down shaking your head. breath hot against his face.

“we can’t,” toji speaks lowly, your faces so close he has to stop his hips from adjusting underneath you.

“why not?”

“you’re drunk, sweetheart,” he continues to feel your body. definitely not listening to himself especially when your arching your back to press your chest against his, hands all over his shoulders.

you shake your head, “I’m not.”

“you are, because if you weren’t, you definitely wouldn’t be here,” he gives your side a squeeze, desperately holding back. “crawlin’ on one of your students’ parents’ lap, in thin shorts and a tee…”

“they’re my pajamas,” you sigh flawlessly with a delicate tilt to your head and your lashes half lidded as you gazed at him.

his son’s teacher was a natural slut.

you were definitely acting like your age now. the back talk, the way you’re trying to seduce him, it all came like second nature to you, even if you didn’t fully notice it, toji definitely does. he’s been the victim to many women batting their lashes and flaunting themselves, but you stood out. easily.

toji bites back a groan.

“you’re drunk too, toji,” you lean in, eyes heavy.

he hums, struggling to conceal his smile as your lips hover over his.

“do you not wanna kiss me anymore?” you whisper, feigning rejection.

he exhales laughing, “anymore?”

you hum, sliding just a little further up his lap, so your face was hovering over his. your hair slides gently to one side, concealing this taboo interaction with a private curtain so the only thing toji was seeing was you.

his skin was hot, and his big hands holding your torso wasn’t stabilizing him at all when you were looking at him like that.

“you’ve been wanting to kiss me every night…and this morning,” you reveal, because of course you caught his hints. you were playing with him. “it was inappropriate.”

“and this isn’t?” he cautiously puts one hand back on your thigh, massaging the bare flesh. your skin was so smooth, so soft, he’d been craving you, thinking about you in the most inappropriate ways, so to have you so easily throwing yourself onto him.

you shake your head. “ it is…but…” your lips skim over his again, breathing heavily. “tonight…I can’t go to sleep without a reward.”

toji snorts, “reward?”

you nod, letting a small whine escape before swallowing it. “I’ve been holding myself back, taking the high road, being responsible, n-now…now I want a kiss, that’s it.” fuck, this is exactly why toji was a fucking whore when he was younger. the age group you’re in right now switched from bratty attitude to spoiled brat in seconds. never choosing between dominant or submissive and it’s so fucking hot.

“you want me to praise you?” toji leans up, his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh electing the softest whine from the back of your throat. you nod, desperate. “want me to tell you how much of a good girl you’ve been not caving in?” he smiles, you nod again.

“please.”

fuck.

“you’re so spoiled,” he licks his scar, and you feel his tongue skim yours briefly, you’re so close.

“mmm!” toji grunts as you finally crash your lips against his.

he holds back a vicious laugh, because you’re so unbelievably desperate with this kiss he has to hold the back of your head to guide you. your whine came automatic, feeling his tongue push your lips open, allowing it to slip in your mouth.

he dominated the kiss, his grip on the back of your head tightened ever so slightly. in this moment, he had you completely at his mercy. and you let him.

he almost couldn't believe that this was the same woman who taught his son. the one who kept avoiding his very obvious advances and would get flustered whenever he insinuated something vulgar. but now here she was, sitting on his lap and whimpering for more. it almost made his head spin.

you pull away briefly, catching your breath, your spit collects on your lip as toji glances over your flushed face.

this is wrong. you’re drunk.

but your arms lazily wrap around his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him again. this time longer, messier. your back arches, hips grinding down against his bulge, electing a moan from you. your tongue was selfish as you fought with his, the alcohol on his breath mixed with yours. finger tangling in his dark locks as you scratch his nape making him shiver.

“taste good,” you sigh with a lazy smile, and he can’t help but chuckle. low and deep, chest shaking making you flush. he’s so hot. his scent overflows and overwhelms. you kiss his scar, tongue running over it. “how’d you get this?” you kiss it again and again, moaning so gently, sending shivers down his spine.

“it’ll ruin the mood,” he says, hands grounding your hips down, grunting just a bit when you really start rocking on his fat bulge. his fingers digging into your flesh, sighing once your lips continue to trail down his neck, hands exploring his chest again.

“i’s okay,” you mutter, sucking gentle kisses on his nape, moving to his Adam’s apple, as he snorts.

there’s a beat before— “my old man did it.”

your eyes flick up. you pull away. your eyes suddenly less hazy and he can tell, because his lip curls into a smirk. “told ya it’d ruin the mood—“

his breath hitched.

your thumb gently touching his scar, eyes swimming with something he can’t recognize.

“how old were you?”

his grip on your hips tighten, subconsciously grounding himself.

“twelve,” he answers. eyes falling to your lips then back up to your doe eyes and the way your brows gently knit together was something he’ll never forget. “it was a long time ago.” he tries to ease your concerns because he was not passing up on this opportunity because the mood was ruined by his shitty childhood.

“i’m sorry,” your words are soft, not an apology he’s heard before, or at least when it came from you, it felt genuine. even if it was a long time ago and he’s long put that behind, he can’t help the sudden flutter deep in his chest.

you lean down, pecking his scar. not like before more gentle, “i thought it was because of a fight or training or somethin’,” you admit.

toji cracks a smile, “ya, that’s what everyone thinks,” he easily strokes your hips. “how ‘bout I get another kiss from ya’. make me feel better.”

unlike his previous flirtatious remarks that earn him a flustered look on your face. you embrace it, gently holding his jaw, maintaining eye contact that he doesn’t break from, his deep green orbs syncing with yours as you control the kiss. tilting his head and meeting his lips with yours meet. tongues colliding, back arching as you dominate and lead the kiss.

the room fills with sounds of your lips smacking. your spit connecting with his as your tongue runs across his bottom lip. you tongue his scar again, making his grip tighten on your waist, heat crawling up his neck. this was a much more passionate kiss than before. your heart was pounding as you continued with the deep sensual make-out.

you started rocking back against his bulge feeling it grow bigger between your legs. your heart was pounding as you pressed down, not fully grasping the consequences of said action because toji pulled away briefly as a deep husky groan escaped his lips.

you weren’t wearing any panties. the shorts clung to your wet folds like thin cloth.

“you’re killin’ me,” he grunts, hands sliding down from your waist to your full ass. his touch once cautious, easily turns desperate as he grabs a handful of your ass, grunting even more when the pads of his fingers spreads your cheeks up, feeling your folds spread behind your shorts, his hips bucking to grind you back down.

you whine, eyes fluttering as you grip his shoulder, nails digging in, rocking against him.

“I should stop…,” your voice was slightly hoarse from the kissing and toji had to contain the sudden urge to lose every ounce of self-control he’s been holding. your concern was mixed with your own hazy and needy twenties side. your lips hover over his, and he can feel the heat coming from you, because he also doesn’t want to lose this proximity to you.

“your call, sweetheart,” toji licks his lips, large hands grounded on your ass permanently. your eyes flick over his face, landing on his swollen lip-bitten lips, and you know you couldn’t stop. you didn’t want to.

your tongues clashed once again, and that bratty side of you came out again, but slightly more dominating as you pressed your fingers into his jaw, so your lips can trail down his neck.

“shit—“ toji grunts, hips bucking in surprise when you palm his bulge.

“more,” you whisper against his lips, the need just itching out.

toji slides his hand up to grab your face. a deep husky chuckle escapes him as he glances your flushed features. you were far from a respectable adorable middle school teacher. your lust filled expression was everything and more.

“you want a parent’s cock in y’r pussy?” his vulgar question sent a unknown heat break deep in your chest.

you glance away, embarrassed.

“don’t put it like that.”

“am i wrong?” his loud boisterous chuckle has you flushing beyond belief.

“shut up! I’m—I just,” you break into a whine, burying your face in his shoulder.

“am i embarrassing you?” he teases further.

you grunt in response.

“is this the brattiude again? aren’t’chu a teacher, use your big girl words, or did we forget how?” his teasing was infinite.

“brattiude? I don’t have whatever that is,” you scoff.

“you do, it comes out when you get like this,” he eyes you up and down, and finds it even more amusing when you quirk a questioning, albeit annoyed, look. so he elaborates. “when you don’t get what you want…you get all snappy, and self-centered…just like a spoiled little brat.”

“I’ve never caught an attitude,” you gasp, staring incredulously at him.

he hums, sarcastically, “sure.”

you frown, but he could tell easily that it was just your brattiude, because you were still all up on his lap, squirming even more because even he could feel the puddle you’re making on his lap.

his hand finds your jaw again, turning your face back to him. his pupils dilate at the flushed look on your face. would you cry if he teases you further? what if he bullies his fat cock in over and over—

“did i hurt your feelings, teach?” he coos so softly it was obvious he was teasing but you tsk, like an annoyed brat. “would you feel better if i touch you down here?”

the gasp was enough of a reaction for him to see just how much you wanted him. the simple touch of his hand cupping you over your shorts and pressing his palm against your clit had your eyes fluttering.

toji curses under his breath, letting another exhale, as he continues rubbing you, “these shorts are all ruined, and you looked so fuckin’ cute in ‘em,” he chuckles when you bite a whimper back.

but your patience for your students isn’t something that extends beyond that, because now your pawing his waistband eager for more, and impatience making you shaky.

he tsks, grabbing your wrist and pulling it up to his face.

“what’re ya thinking?”

“i want it…” the frown plus the whine isn’t a sight for any man that would easily buckle and fuck you stupid could handle.

his jaw clenches, holding back. “let me take a look first.”

your brows pinch, “what do you mean—wha!” you squeak, your world tipping over in seconds, now laying on your back with your legs pushed up. toji swiftly and skillfully pulls your shorts off in one go. your heart is racing, preparing yourself, until toji pushes your thighs up and apart, kneeling his face close to your heated puckering core, eyes staring like saucers.

“what’re you doing?!” you immediately cover yourself, face bright and hot.

“taking a look,” he pushes your hand out of the way, his thumbs slipping into your folds before pulling them apart, “you’re soaked.” his pupils dilate at the sight of your sticky arousal, slipping out.

“toji—“ you push his shoulder, trying to get his face away, but he only leans his face closer, like your pussy was some hypnosis, and his tongue falls right on the mess, licking a bold wet strip up. your juices collect on his tongue as you flood his taste buds. “angh—“ you whine out, head tipping back and back arching, because fuck, you really did miss getting your pussy eaten.

“fuck, you’re so sweet,” toji groans, lapping the mess you made before tonguing the source. your eyes were on him the entire time, his back muscles moving as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, dipping his head again to suck and clean all your juices, before sucking your little bundle of nerves.

your eyes bulge once he starts giving your clit some attention, hand curling in his raven hair as your thighs twitching as he sucks.

his own body reacting to every mewl and whimper you let out, eyes flicking up to see the way you were gasping. his free hand came up, pushing your university tee up, hand flat on your stomach before your tits came into view, and he nearly came.

your eyelids flutter as you stare at him, chest heaving, you can feel how hot you’re body is getting as he feels your stomach.

“fuck me,” his body sits ups slowly, hovering over you, your legs slip around his torso as he dips his head to your tits. you wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is beating when his tongue lulls out and takes a wet lap of your nipple. his rough palm gropes your boob, squeezing the flesh making you react just the way he’d imagine.

your back arching and a stifled moan coming out.

“i don’t think teachers should be this slutty,” he licks his lips, tonguing your nipple again before he admittedly starts sucking.

“toji,” you moan, hand pressing into his nape as he hums around you. his fingers pinch and twist your other nipple making you gasp, letting out a higher pitched moan. you can feel his smirk, but you don’t have time to comment because he presses a finger against your hole.

“let’s see how much i needa stretch y’out,” his face is flushed, your reactions were enough to get him off.

your eyes glance down as he slips two thick veiny fingers into your core.

“shit,” toji exhales.

you whine, gasping when he pumps his fingers in to get them deep.

“you’re unbelievable,” his comment leaves you feeling bright pink. “when was the last time you had sex, baby?”

his question was confusing to you until he adds on.

“or are you still a virgin?”

“I’m not a virgin!” you gasp, offended, even though it wouldn’t have been embarrassing if it was a true. but still. you were flustered, especially when he leans his face close to yours.

“you sure?” he snarks, “because this pussy—“ he puts emphasis with a sharp thrust of his fingers making your head fall back. “is too fuckin’ tight,” he groans as you squeeze around him.

“I’ve had sex, like—five months ago,” you confess.

“five months,” he repeats, eyes narrowing when you glance away, and that’s when the light bulb goes off and he has to hold back a snort, because it was sweet. “and why five months?” he teases.

you hold back, too stubborn to expose your reasons, but he doesn’t make it easy when he starts sucking your neck, taking his time learning your body, until he finds the spot that makes you moan just a bit more uncontrolled and his fingers pick up speed. “does it have to do with me?”

his fingers piston into you and an unrelenting pace that he slips in another finger, groaning at the squelching that fills the air, your face pressing into his arm that rests beside your head. “cmon,” he slows his pace, electing a cute whine from you. “you’re really actin’ spoiled. expecting me to please you without anything in return.”

the guilt trip had your dumb brain glancing widely at him.

“I’m not—we’re gonna have sex now,” your face is bright with heat, eyes just a bit glassy from the pleasure.

“you think an old man like me gets off on just pussy?” though that was a big chunk of it, it still elected a cute reaction from you. “you needa to talk to me.”

your eyes are wide, almost like this was inconceivable to you, but nonetheless your lips part. “you’re not that old,” you comment with a slight snark.

he snorts, “you being cute?”

you shrug, squirming when he rubs his palm against your clit. “just a little,” you maintain eye contact. and he has to hold back a snort. his lips hover over yours, his hot breath fanning against your face, you instinctively lean up to kiss him but he easily dodges it, tucking his face into your side, lips ghosting over your ear.

“just tell me you didn’t let anyone near this pussy after our meeting,” his words sent a shiver running down your spine. “admit it.”

“it was coincidental,” you admit, whining when he curls his fingers inside, your legs closing around his hand but he only pushes both legs up, you squeal when he starts fingering you at an unrelenting pace, your face pressed to the side, gasping as you feel your orgasm taking over your body.

“coincident my fuckin’ ass,” he tsks, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he slips them out and puts them up to his mouth sucking them dry. your chest is uneven as you stare up at him. he moves to pull your shirt off, leaving you completely naked while he’s still in his sweats. “you’re gonna have’ta make it up to me.”

“why?” you snap back. his brows rise, it was intimidating. the look of an annoyed adult, but it had your core clenching around nothing.

“you’ve got a fuckin’ mouth on ya,” he chides, his palm cups your pussy, making you shiver. “I should shut you up for good,” he palms himself.

you nod, the blush and smile giving yourself away.

he can’t help but snort, “you wanna be punished?”

you flush, “I didn’t say that,” you mutter.

he leans over you again, hand caressing your face, it was slightly rough, thumb playing with your lips, eyes honed in on how wet and kiss bitten they are. “you said you wanted your mouth to be shut,” he smirks. “this little pussy would make you pass out if I put my dick in it .”

your brows furrow as you frown, “you don’t know that,” you argue.

“you could barely take three fingers,” he coos, but that only seems to make your dumb cock filled head more upset.

“but I did, you don’t know anything,” you scoff, “you don’t know what I can handle.”

“you telling me you a slut?”

“that’s not what I said,” you flush, “I can take you, that’s what I’m telling you,” you huff, but it turns into a pout, one that has him chuckling. especially when he moves off the bed. you watch him standing beside the bed as you sit up.

his fingers hook around his sweats and easily slips them down, letting them pool on the floor before kicking it aside.

to say you felt your heart drop to your ass was an understatement. your entire body burned red and goosebumps broke out everywhere.

the dark happy trail that led down to his base was not enough of a warning for the sight of his large and thick cock, hanging between his legs. the tip was already shiny from the pre that spread everywhere. his hand came down, squeezing the base, groaning lowly at the sight of you sitting up on the bed staring wide-eyed. he could fuck your pretty face and have no complaints. your lips were parted in frozen terror.

toji put a knee on the mattress, biting his lip in calculated self-control. he couldn’t react yet, not when his son’s poor little teacher was still grappling with the fact that she said she could take his fat cock not knowing what she got herself into.

“I—“ your voice cracks, lips parting at the sight of his weighty length in his palm. he lazily grips the base. the veins looked like they would pop if he squeezed any more.

“you’re acting real fuckin’ cute,” toji groans, leaning down and kissing your lips. not realizing that that comment sent you spiraling. he was still standing, so you were leaning slightly up. your head tilted, eyes fluttering up. “it’s okay, I won’t tease ya’ about your comments earlier,” he chuckles, taking your hand in his gently. “just be a good girl, and I’ll be gentle,” he sighs, guiding your hand to wrap around his cock. “fuck.”

his head tipped to rest on your shoulder, his hand rubbed your thigh. your grip on his cock grew tighter as you continued jerking him off, you couldn’t believe how big it was in your palm. your mind was overheating just thinking about how this thing could fit in you. that’s until you felt your back hit the mattress, again. your body immediately pulled to the edge of the bed as he hoisted your legs around his waist.

“can’t wait any longer,” he grunts, laying his fat cock on your stomach. his eyes dilating at the sight of how far he’d reach you.

“w-wait—“ you press a hand to his sweaty pec, eyes slightly wide as you swallow thickly. “I don’t think—I know what I said—“

however, toji breaks out into a loud laugh. one that has your skin heating up again, and your lips parting in shock. “t-toji!” you scold.

“sorry, sorry,” he laughs, leaning over as he kisses a cute gentle kiss to your cheek that once again leaves you speechless. you would’ve never expected him to be so gentle in the bedroom. “I can teach you how to take a big dick like this,” he starts moving his hips, sliding his length through your folds, a low grunt escaping as your juices squelch around and coat him.

“you’re getting cocky,” you mutter, the confidence you once had, just hanging by a thread now.

he snorts, “just a little. haveta make sure I’m just as good of a teacher as you are,” he angles his tip to press against your clit, smiling when your body jolts. your fingers lazily digging into his biceps. “plus, it’s not everyday i get to take a teachers virginity.”

you flush, “I’m not a virgin!”

toji smirks, “you are when it comes to me,” he rubs his cock head against your puckering hole, “gonna stretch you out real good, every other dick that’s been in ‘ere will be gone from your memory.”

you tense up as you feel the first push in. your eyes flying open as your jaw goes slack. the stretch was filthy, delicious, your chest felt hot—

“easy, baby,” he coos, all cocky, and it only seems to make you even more turned on as you clench around him. “shit.”

his grip on the sheets tighten, jaw clenched. “don’t squeeze me like that.”

“not my fault,” you whimper, his hand pushing your thigh higher as he sinks himself deeper. your breath catches, nails digging into his shoulder. “too much—angh!”

your whining and moaning, fails to deter toji from the task at hand. his cheeks are flushed, muscles tense as he controls his strength. unlike you, he really hasn’t had sex with anyone in awhile. it seemed to only be a yearly ritual for him. so having someone he’s been chasing for months now, someone he definitely developed a strong attraction for squeezing him to absolute heaven definitely wasn’t making it any easier for him.

“you’re so—fuckin’ tight,” he grunts, pulling out and thrusting back in. your back arched, hips rising off the bed as he places a knee on the bed , groaning as he pushes more of himself in. your eyes bulge even more, tears squeezing at the corner of your eyes. “still got more.”

“what?!” you shriek, eyes bulging as he snaps more of his chubby girth inside your gummy walls. your pussy weeping, gasping for air as he starts picking up the pace.

“don’t be so dumb,” toji coos, “you saw how much i was gonna shove in,” he emphasis it with a hand pressed to your belly button. “you’ll know you’re full when you feel it right here.”

to say you get dumb on dick is an understatement.

by the time he’s fucking his full length inside you, you’re a completely different person.

“angh, you’re so fuckin’ good,” toji grunts, his hips snapping, he has one foot planted on the mattress, drilling his cock inside you hitting your cervix until your crying out. “good fuckin’ pussy,” his hand comes down your ass.

“toji—gun’ gunna come—ahh-!”

“again?” he snorts, but his own composure breaks when you’re drooling, his thumb collecting it and putting it back in your mouth as you suck. your back arches as his cock slides against your gummy walls pressing against your sweet spot making you see stars. his veins bulge from his arms, watching your eyes rolls back and moan around his thumb.

fuck, he wasn’t gonna cum just yet.

once you’d come undone, you pressed a hand to his chest.

“tapping out.”

you shake your head. “I’m on top.”

you sit up, pushing him back until he’s slipping out a shiver runs down your spine at the emptiness. but you immediately flush when you glance at toji. it was a sight.

his chest covered in a layer of sweat, your juices coated his heavy hanging cock and dark hair at his base. toji chuckled darkly as you grabbed his wrist pulling him back on the bed, laying him against the headboard. his hand lifted up, you easily took it as you stood up and slowly lowered yourself on his abs. pussy easily settling on the hard ridges making him groan.

“gonna teach me a lesson?” he bites his lip, watching you closely.

you laugh lightly, almost like he couldn’t feel the way your pussy clenched when he said that. your lips hovering over his. “teasing me every second and now you wanna learn something,” you kiss his jaw, a low hum escaping his lips. finding himself back in the same position you both started in, but this time you definitely weren’t holding back. his hands easily came to your ass, until you sat up. “no touching.”

his brow raised.

“I thought you wanted a lesson,” you test, his eyes boring into yours.

with an amused exhale, he raises both his hands in defeat, easily tucking them behind his head, muscles flexing casually. you ignore the flush that runs through you at the sight of his biceps flexing and the layer of sweat on his slightly hairy chest.

“now,” you start, turning around so your ass was on full display facing him, a low whistle slips past his lips. your feet press over his pelvis while one hand was positioned on the mattress for balance, your hair sliding to one side, you look over your shoulder and it was fucking beautiful.

toji flushed as he saw the arch of your spine, his eyes traveling down your deep line of you back until he noticed it. toji swears under his breath.

“because you called me a virgin,” you raise your hips, your free hand coming to press his wet cock against your twitching hole, slapping it over your clit a few times making you both hum and groan. “I’ll give you a little show,” you slide back down on his dick. his breath hitching as you take him in one go, no whining or crying like the rounds before. even though you clenched around him when he bottomed out, his jaw ticking, you still persevered.

you lean forward, arching your back as you raise your hips, only his tip still inside as you slam down again. the bulging ridges of his fat cock sliding against your walls had you drooling.

“christ,” he grunts. abs clenching, staring at the sticky cum from earlier start to create little wet cobwebs that attach to his pelvis and your ass.

“angh fuck, toji,” your moans are breathier and needier. It was the fact that you weren’t facing a him that made it easier for you to let go and enjoy the sex all the more, especially when you’re putting on a show for him with the way you’re riding his dick.

“shit—ngh, i take back what i said,” he grunts, biting another groan because he was desperately trying to see how this plays out by keeping his hands behind him. but you were really riding him like a cock drunken slut. “wanted to shake y’r ass for me—mmm this whole time.”

he subtly slides his muscular thighs apart, angling his hips just a bit knowing that this angle was much better for you. and of course your dumb little brain didn’t even notice but your eyes flutter back as does your pussy. “angh toji—“ it was quite endearing the way your actions and voice didn’t line up, the sluttiest thing he’s received and yet he’s hearing the sweetest voice chanting his name over and over.

“taking me so well, ya like riding this cock, hmm?” he bites his cheek, preventing a pathetic noise from slipping out when he watches the way your pussy stretches around him. he was so close.

“so big, toji—fuck—angh fee’—good, hngh ahh—“

“Mmm, shit just like that, dirty fuckin’ pussy,” the messy squelching and breathy moans you were letting out was messing with his head.

and he couldn’t help it when you leaned forward even more, grasping the sheets and getting more air to bounce faster. picking up the pace which immediately had him exhaling loudly and reaching out a hand, unable to stop himself, because you definitely would make him cum. “should’ve told me how desperate this pussy was for a big cock to stuff her,” he groans as you let out a loud whine. a snort escaping, “fuck.”

his palm slid across your ass, all the way to the fucking tramp stamp he hadn’t noticed until you’d turned around for him. his cock twitched when your back arched on instinct when he pressed a finger against the tattoo.

“fuck fuh—angh i said no touchin—“ you whine, it felt so good bouncing on such a big cock. you’d never had something so big inside you, and you couldn’t hold back.

“wanted to tell ya how much I’m lovin’ this fuckin’ lesson from you teach,” he groans, the low rumble from his chest has you angling your hips so you were only taking his tip. “shiit—“ his jaw went slack.

“it’s ah—a punishment,” you pant as you bounce only on the few inches of his tip, letting your juices drizzle down his creamy messy base. his eyes were like saucers seeing your hole take him and he could feel himself getting closer, his grip tightening on your waist.

“cmon baby,” he lets out a noise that you could only think was a whine, if it wasn’t for your own moans and loud squelching.

god why did it feel good being tortured like this. his cock was going to burst, but you were edging him like crazy like this.

“d-don’t baby me—“ you bite your lip, but he clearly hears your whimper. your shoulders shaking. you were close. “I’m—I’m in charge.”

his neck rolled back, lashes fluttering. your pussy felt so good, riding his cock until he bursts inside you, and yet, “is that usually how it is?” he slides both hands to hold your torso.

“what do you m—angh!! toji!”

his hands grasp your waist, and with no hesitation, he plants both feet on the mattress and thrusts up. your eyes bulge, finding yourself laying against his chest, head thrown back against his shoulder as he bites at your neck, thrusting up at an unrelenting pace.

“I’m not gonna let a pretty girl like you do all the work,” he grunts, hand falling to your clit, rubbing tight circles, making your legs shake as tears form immediately. “there we go—ngh squeeze my dick like a good girl.”

you were definitely going to loose consciousness, the pleasure overwhelming. “toji,” your moans were getting loud.

“are ya only gonna moan my name?” he teased, mimicking your gasps as if he wasn’t desperately controlling the pace fighting your own bucks to pick up the pace because he refused to cum right now. “shiit—baby,” he presses his face to your side, his instincts couldn’t stop him from absolutely wrecking you.

maybe that’s why when he had you back on your hands and knees, shaking and whining that he didn’t stop thrusting until he felt you cum again, but this time with a messier gush.

“shit—“ he groans, being forced out as you squirt on his cock. “you’re full of surprises, princess.”

you were absolutely delirious, tilting your head, arms stretching out grasping the sheets. “cu-cum in me.”

his jaw clenches, his brain frying as you look at him with those big glassy eyes. all pleading and fucked out.

“don’t,” he thrusts into you, it was getting sloppy, your hand was stretching back for him.

“want y-you to—ah ha—cum in me—please ngh please—“ you desperately match him, thrusting back against him, making him groan.

“don’t say that,” he brings a hand down on your ass, it was as hard, but enough to make you whine even more.

“want you to make me feel full, toji,” you plead, hand rubbing your tummy feeling the bulge he was creating. his cock threatening to burst with the way you’re acting. he leans forward, hands planted beside your head, as he drives his cock harder and faster.

“fuck, should’ve known you’d be a fuckin’ slut,” he grunts with each thrust, you were whining, face pressed against the mattress as you reached back to hold his head, his face coming close to yours.

“want it—I’m—I’m good,” you slur, the gasps and moans coming out. his muscles flexing as he felt his legs begin to shake and your own body squeezing him, clearly on the edge yourself.

“want me to breed this pussy on our first fuck,” he clearly already made his choice as his thrusts grew sloppier. his breathing getting uneven and louder as he drilled his pulsing cock into your warm gooey walls.

“yes-want it all—“ you gasp, his lips crash onto yours. and the deep rumble of him moaning into your mouth immediately sent you over the edge again and him following after.

he hissed, his balls clenching as he shot ropes of warm cum into your walls. you were clenching him nails digging into his nape, as he continued thrusting deep and holding as more cum shot into his son’s hot middle school teacher.

you were whining, especially when his hand wouldn’t leave your clit, making you squirt more. he pulled out, biting his lip as he saw the mess he created, and selfishly, he pulled you back on your knees, spreading your pussy apart to get a better look. and you were too fucked out to feel embarrassed.

“should’ve gotten a warning that you were this dirty,” he teases, slipping a middle finger into the mess and his cum oozing out of your puffy overstimulated pussy hole. he slowly thrusts his fingers in, and your hips reluctantly try to move away. “Look at’cha,” he sighs, mesmerized when you start crying and shaking as you squirt some more, his cock aching at the sight.

he didn’t stop, until you were rolling to your side, pushing his hands away. “c-angh toji,” your cheek is pressed against the mattress, eyes glossy and pleading.

“had enough, pretty girl?” he coos.

you nod, completely exhausted.

“you sure you don’t wanna give me more,” he gently soothes a hand across your ass as he leans down to press a kiss to your lower back. “is that enough for my bratty girl?”

you nod again. eyes doting up at him as if that wasn’t both the cutest and filthiest sight he’s ever seen. he trails soft kissed up your spine, gently rolling you to your back, brushing the messy hair from your beautiful face.

your body weak, but still responsive, brushes a hand across his jaw. eyeing his scarred lips, he leans forward, hovering over yours as you sigh blissfully.

“my dream…” you whisper. “is dumb.”

his emerald eyes widen slightly before settling. hand caressing the top of your head, thumb rubbing your forehead as he remains close, the intimacy was unlike anything you’d ever felt. fucks absolutely stupid that this closeness has dropped all your walls.

especially when this man who’s been following you for three days and stopped to talk to you almost every morning after dropping off his son. you felt it was okay to be a little insecure.

“I’m definitely not someone to judge if something’s dumb or not, pretty,” his voice was just above a whisper, matching your tone. a gentle smirk pulling at his lips as he reassures you.

and for once, you don’t look away. you maintain eye contact, voicing your dumb dreams to the man that asked you a few months ago.

“I wanted to write…for awhile,” you hesitate for a moment. “still do…but I—don’t tell people.”

“like books?”

you shake your head. finger lazily stroking his jaw tracing his features mindlessly. “no,” you whisper, “shows…I went to school for that…film and tv, graduated with a BFA,” you glance at his lips, touching his scar again.

toji remains silent, but his caresses don’t stop. gently reassuring you to continue talking, it was similar to the way he talks to megumi, giving him gentle reminders that’s it’s safe space. it took him awhile to understand what it means to sit and listen, but he likes to think he’s gotten better, especially when you sigh gently.

“but it’s been two years since I graduated…and writing jobs are difficult,” your thumb trails back to his neck, “like really hard,” you mutter.

“you still apply to things?” his tone was identical to yours, not wanting to think he’s pushing. and you nod, licking your glossy bitten lips.

“ya, applied for a few writing programs a few weeks ago for the summer…” you trail off. “…it’s…just embarrassing,” your voice is much lower. you take a deep breath, your exhale is slightly shaky and your little smile was almost heartbreaking as his brows furrow.

“teaching isn’t bad…still gives me time to write, and make my portfolio more appealing,” you confess. you sigh, glancing back into his inviting eyes. a small smile appears on your face. “that’s it.”

toji couldn’t describe the way his chest tightened up. It made him feel like he couldn’t say the right thing but his lips parted.

“when I had megumi,” he starts, speaking just as soft. “i wasn’t in a good place. i was young,” he clears his throat. “i can’t even remember his mom…i was pretty sleazy back then,” he confesses, making you crack an amused smile. “but i had no goals or a job or money, so when megumi was thrown at my doorstep I couldn’t throw him out.” he itches his jaw, you could tell it was difficult for him to speak about this. but he quickly gets to the point. “it took me awhile to get my shit together, and I made a fuck ton of mistakes, but eventually thing began to work. I forced myself to believe they’ll work out because of gumi.”

toji exhales as he brushes your forehead again. it felt like he could see through you.

“you’re a baby,” he whispers. “two years isn’t a long time, you have a goal, and you haven’t given up, right?”

you nod which he makes him crack a wider smirk.

“don’t be embarrassed,” he soothes, “most people would be jealous, I certainly am.” you scoff, and he raises a brow. “you think I’m lyin’?”

“no,” you mutter. “but like—“

“but nothing,” he grabs your jaw, angling your head up, eyes meeting. “it’ll happen. that’s it, okay?”

you bite your cheek, and his heart clenched even more when your eyes filled with tears. your bottom lip pouting just a bit, trying to hold them back from slipping.

“okay?” his voice more gentle.

and your response is just as sweet as you are, with a gentle tilt forward, your lips pressing against his. eyes closing with exhaustion and some slight ounce of comfort for your worries you hum against his lips. “okay.”

toji caresses your jaw as your worries slip into the night, letting this man kiss you to sleep.

—

the nights events afterwards was a blur, all you could feel when you woke the next morning was the full body ache and slight weight off your chest. you had almost thought it was all a dream, because your body that was covered in the post-sex mess was completely clean, and as were the sheets. but the bruises and bite marks that littered your body was a tell sign and the fact that you, along with the large man sleeping peacefully beside you were still fully naked.

his back rose and fell evenly, he looked peaceful as he slept beside you. the early morning sunrise casting a gentle orange glow across his features, softening him.

you were in awe.

he was so beautiful, it was hard to believe he’s a total sadist in bed, but even that mind blowing sex couldn’t make you forget how gentle he was afterwards. his teasing was something you doubt you’ve ever come across, and maybe it was because he was older, but his words made you feel more reassured.

your eyes followed the deep scratches that littered his biceps, nape and shoulders that your own face began to burn slightly. “ow,” you mutter.

“taking in the view?” his rasp voice had your eyes snapping back to his face. his eyes now half lidded gazing tiredly at you.

“I didn’t mean too,” you gently rub over the scratches on his shoulder, your own voice slightly hoarse from the crying and moaning from last night. toji glances at his biceps not even reacting to the marks, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“I doubt that,” he scoffs.

your eyes widen, “honest! I don’t—leave marks like this,” you flush, glancing at him with pleading eyes.

he chuckles, rolling to his side inviting you to come closer, but he doesn’t give you a chance as he pulls you with his strong arm. pressing his face into your shoulder as he exhales. “it’s hot, so shut up.”

“they look like they hurt though,” you mutter into his shoulder.

“they do sting.”

you pull away with even wider eyes full of concern now that he can’t help but break out into a boisterous full body laugh. his chest shaking making you roll your eyes. “you’re joking.”

“nope, they do sting.”

“toji,” your cute brows are pinched together making him laugh even more.

“do you always scrunch that face when y’r worried,” he squishes your cheek. “it’s cute, feels like ya do it on purpose.”

“I’m literally just upset,” you pout because he was squishing your cheeks where it was slightly hard to talk. “does it actually sting—like a lot?” your eyes have a little mischief.

“Mmm, makes me hard thinkin’ bout how they got there,” he cracks a smirk as you stutter, hand coming to his face.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes.

“does anyone else know about this slutty tattoo?” he puts emphasis with his hand splayed on your lower back, rubbing the spot. “that their teacher actually rides cock like a certified slut.”

“you can’t say that,” you huff, more embarrassed than you’d like to admit because he was pulling your closer to him as his hand grabbed a handful of your ass.

“just did—am i gonna get punished again,” he throws your words back at, and it only helped to get you even more speechless. “i confess, i would love to get punished again,” he spreads your ass making you arch into his chest. his lips hovering over your ear. “you were moaning like a little slut.” his lips part as he mimics your moans, “toji angh—“ you slap his chest, making him laugh.

you sit up holding the blanket to your chest as you glare down at him. clearly getting embarrassed, which serves to entertain the older man. he smirks up at you, hand caressing your smaller wrist.

“stop talking about last night,” you deadpan.

“how can i not, you surprised me,” he confesses making you glare at him.

“what did you expect?” you raise a skeptical brow. that attitude of yours was definitely something that had him holding back a whimper. god, your immaturity coming out around him made him hard.

“expected you to be a little vanilla. not that I would’ve minded, I’d get you to do other stuff, but the way you wanted to take me yourself, just to show me your pussy stretching nice a big—“ toji had no shame being vulgar with his words. Especially when you pressed a hand to his mouth, flushed beyond belief.

“stop talking!” you press your face to his shoulder. he doesn’t though, instead he pulls your hand away easily and looks up.

“and your messy pussy gushing everywhere, were ya’ always a squirter?” he chuckles because he’d successfully fried your brain where your jaw was slack. your hands came to yours cheeks because you needed to cool down. the blanket slipping to reveal your breasts just a bit.

“you can’t ask me that,” you whine softly, head down.

he leans up, hand pressed on the mattress beside your thigh, his face popping up in front of you, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. “show me some confidence, pretty girl,” he teases, and earns a hand on his face pushing him away.

“you’re making fun of me!” you huff, face burning.

“I’m complimenting you,” he laughs.

“well stop laughing, then,” you snap.

he snorts, laughing still, “can’t help it. just like you can’t help spraying on my dick.”

“toji!”

he laughs again, as you shove his shoulder back making him fall back on the mattress. he pulls your wrist so you’re falling over him. his hand holding your nape. it took less than five seconds for you both to start making out. his gruff voice coming into small grunts as you hum in pleasure.

“I haveta get back to my room before everyone wakes up,” you say between kisses.

“Mmm,” toji continues kissing, “in a few.” he’s seating against the headboard, holding your face as you continue making out. it was messy and sloppy, but that’s all you would do, your hand holding his wrist that attempted to sneak into your pussy from behind. “a pretty girl should cum every morning.”

“not when she’s working,” you mutter, licking his tongue, salvia mixing with his as he groans. his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

his hands continued to wander, allowing him to grope your boobs, twisting your nipple as you sigh in pleasure—

THUMP THUMP THUMP

the loud thumping at the door has you jolting,

“who’s that?” you whisper, glancing at the clock. it was still two hours before everyone needed to wake up.

toji shrugs, unsure too as he pulls you back to his lips. “keep kissing me, pretty.” you follow his pull, lips coming together again until the knocks get louder followed by—

“dad! are you awake?!” megumi’s little voice yells on the other side. now both you and toji are frozen, you more panicky than him, as he keeps you on his lap when you try to get off. “dad!”

“mr. toji!” yuuji’s voice chimes in only adding to your confusion and slight corner you’re stuck in now.

but that’s when the light bulb goes off in toji’s head, “oh.”

“what?” you whisper.

“promised them I’d take them on my run in the morning,” he glances at the clock, “didn’t think gumi would actually get up though.”

you get a little more panicky, but toji easily chuckles. “get in the bathroom, I’ll tell them I just needa change first.”

you nod, sliding off his lap. he slips his sweats on fixing himself in his boxers as you slip on his tshirt and rush into the bathroom earning a gentle tap on the ass by toji as he tries to squeeze it when he walks past you to the door. “stop,” you squeal, running away and finally closing the bathroom shut.

he licks his lips, biting a groan before swinging the door open, mind you the knocking didn’t stop.

“what took you so long?” megumi frowns up at him. both boys wearing their shorts, megumi opting for a navy t shirt and yuuji with his bright red tank top.

“it took forever to wake megumi up! but you were the one that woke up late so we get the ten dollars, you promised, you promised!” Yuuji blurts.

toji scratches his hair. “yeah yeah, let me change quickly and I’ll meet you boys in your room—“

“we’ll just wait with you,” megumi easily slips inside his dad’s room followed by yuuji who skips to the large windows.

“woahhh your view is better than ours,” he presses his face to the glass. “and it’s ten dollars each, not together!”

toji licks his teeth, glancing at the bathroom.

“okay stay put, im gonna take piss and come out,” toji subtly picks up your clothes from the floor along with his own change of clothes before slipping into the bathroom.

his brows raise when he sees an empty room. he quietly whispers your name, walking up the shower and pulling the curtains back to see you sitting. “they’re still here?” you mouth. he chuckles, nodding.

“I’ll leave with them and then you can slip back to your room after,” he pets your head all cocky, making you slap his hand away with a huff, to which he laughs and walks to the toilet.

you patiently wait in the bathroom until he finishes changing and grabs your jaw, planting a wet kiss against your lips. you hum in shock, whining when he skillfully plays with your tongue groaning. “we’re still going on that date when we get back,” he says licking his lips and you can just nod.

he gives you one last wink before slipping out.

fuck.

unfortunately for you, sleeping with a student’s parent is exactly how you’d picture it going. him teasing you every chance he gets under his breath. subtle touches when no one is looking, and of course, gentle reminders of last nights events when you’re sitting on the buses back to the school.

“you need to behave yourself,” you scold him, getting up and sitting on the other side of the aisle. he frowns rolling his eyes.

however things weren’t fully realized until you got to the last rest stop. and all the kids flooded out all needing to use the bathroom. toji and you being the first to finish, when toji decided to corner you against the bus.

his hand gently caressing your waist over your top, while the other tilted your chin to the side.

“you did a good job covering this up,” he rubs the spot where he remembers leaving a pretty dark hickey. “I can leave another one down here,” he drops his hand to the front of your top, pulling the fabric down just a bit.

“toji,” you say sternly, as if you aren’t beyond flustered.

he cracks a smile, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to you, “kidding…so give me a kiss,” he whispers against your lips. “before the kids comes.”

you flush. he’s so needy. it was a pleasant surprise, but also messed with your head.

“just a kiss,” he softly coos, eyes half lidded, hands caressing you like you were all he needed to continue another two hours on this god forsaken bus with a bunch of middle schoolers. so you grant him it.

the kiss was soft, innocent, his hand pulling you flush against his body, “so sweet,” he sighs, slipping his tongue in, as he does, you’ve come to realize—

“WHAT!” a loud shout has you and toji flinching and whipping to look at the source and of course it’s the mischievous little nobara. “you were kissing Miss. L/N!!” she shouts so loudly as more of the kids flooded out of the bathrooms.

yuuji who was standing behind her the whole time has his jaw permanently nailed to the ground.

“nobara,” you laugh nervously, trying to defuse the situation, but she’s already chanting you and mr.toji sitting in a tree K.I—. and the other kids follow suite.

yuuji is still sat on the bus with his jaw slack, megumi in a similar state but more of a glare as they surround you both on the seats. toji raises a brow at his kid, almost testing his glare. “have somethin’ to say—“

but yuuji immediately stands up, pointing at you. “why would mr. toji kiss you! you don’t like stinky things and mr. toji is SO STINKY!” yuuji’s cry has you flushing eyes wide.

“yuuji,” you start, but nobara is laughing.

“they’re in loveeee so it doesn’t matter,” she chuckles and this leaves you and toji stunned.

“in love?!” Megumi now shouts. “miss is super super sweet and my dad is—“ he looks back at his dad frowning. toji puzzled raises a brow.

“your dad is what?” he tests him.

your sweating, laughing, “okay guys, this isn’t the time—“

“my dad is grumpy and not sweet,” megumi frowns, not scared at standing up to his dad.

the sixth graders all listening and enjoying the show, ooo at the same time. some were on nobara’s side of gushing over their sweet lovely teacher with a strong man like toji who they’ve spent most of the trip with. and the other side was on yuuji and megumi’s who are in disbelief that their sweet lovely teacher like you could be with a grumpy fighter like toji.

“I’m not sweet?” toji cocks his head.

megumi hums and yuuji agrees along with a few other boys.

“so when I drive you to school? or take care of ya when y’r sick and whining, or drive you both to practice, or go on runs with you slow-pokes, or buy ya sweets, or take care of you—what’s all that then?” toji has the entire bus silent.

megumi and yuuji frown, embarrassed.

“ya that’s what I thought,” toji rubs more salt on the wound and your chest clenches as you look at the boys.

“toji was a big help with all of you guys, and he’s very sweet for volunteering to come along,” you try to reason with your class who all pout while others gush. “and uh—“ you look at the boys who are all upset. “you kids are obviously the sweetest,” a few of them blink up at you. kids love praise. “you all made this year amazing and toji agrees with me too. you all brought us all together and definitely were better than the other classes,” you put a finger to your lips. “but don’t tell them I said that.”

the kids all laugh together nodding.

“I told you we were the better class,” yuuji cheers, stunning his tongue out. “it’s because of your class president,” he slaps his chest. megumi laughs, especially when Nobara starts arguing with him.

“no it’s because I’m CO-President!” she huffs and the two go back n forth immediately changing the subject for the rest of the bus ride.

and once you settle back into your seat toji gives you smirk. you raise a brow.

he shrugs.

you tilt your head. weird.

but all toji was doing was admiring you. simple.

a/n: this was longer than I intended, but hopefully you guys enjoyed it. I definitely spent months coming in and out of this story, haven’t written smut in a few months so I had to find my style again lol!

I may write a much shorter pt2 of this, not sure yet,—but anywaysss I hope you all liked it and I’m sorry this wasn’t very mma centered 😭

[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)

[orphicmeliora]

For his birthday, you write Sylus a letter in your mother tongue, the one language he has yet to learn. You do not fully know what compels you toward it, only that the decision settles into you with quiet certainty, as though your heart had chosen long before your mind could catch up.

Perhaps it begins with something trivial. An idle moment. Luke and Kieran, sprawled across a room, arguing with the kind of conviction only the untested can afford—debating which language in the world carries the greatest capacity for love. French, Luke insists, with all the confidence of someone who has never truly been in love. Italian, Kieran counters, louder, as though volume alone could make it true.

Well, you disagree with them both.

And maybe it is bias. Maybe it is the way your childhood was steeped in it, the way songs and poetry and quiet confessions have always existed for you in the same breath. But you know—know in the way one knows the shape of their own heartbeat—that your mother tongue, in its purest form, does not merely speak love. It aches with it. It lingers. It holds longing the way cupped hands hold water, careful and reverent and trembling.

So you decide, with a kind of quiet resolve that feels soft yet stubborn blooming in your chest, that you will prove it.

You sit down to write, and the words do not come easily at first. Not because you lack them, but because there are too many. The language does not offer you simple things; it offers you depth, offers you softness layered over sharp edges, offers you metaphors that feel too intimate to survive being written down. And yet, you try. You gather every fragile, fleeting feeling you have ever tucked away for him and thread them into sentences that feel almost too beautiful to bear.

You do not translate it.

You do not soften it.

You leave it exactly as it is; raw, intricate, and entirely yours.

And then, you give it to him.

What follows is not immediate understanding. There is no easy unraveling, no neat conclusion. Instead, Sylus spends the entirety of his birthday week with your letter in his hands, chasing meaning through unfamiliar script, tracing each word as though it might reveal itself if he is patient enough. He asks questions, of course—subtle ones, careful ones—but you never give him everything. You let him work for it. You let him feel the weight of not knowing, the ache of reaching for something just out of grasp.

And somewhere along the way, it changes him.

And you realize, watching him, that you may have proven your point after all.

Because this language has not just become something he wants to understand.

It has become something he refuses to let go of.

Something he is beginning to love.

notes: the inspo for this (found it in the deep depths of pinterest doomscrolling)

حينما أغرق في عينيك عيني When I sink my eye into your eyes ألمح الفجر العميقا I catch a glimpse of a deep dawn وأرى الأمس العتيقا And I see ancient yesterday وأرى ما لست أدري And I see what I do not know وأحس الكون يجري And I feel the universe flowing بين عينيك وعيني Between my eye and yours

[arunacheiro]

[glitch-but-ya]

the stubborn heart we share.

cw: MDNI. suggestive themes, insecurity, hurt/comfort, too many metaphors, quiet!reader, reader is implied to be the antithesis of Sylus; unlike him in almost every observable way. w.c: 850 words. notes: this is purely a vent, to be honest.

 Many a times, Sylus watched as the flurry of diverging shapes adorning your fragmented form dissolved into the shadows. Face overcast, strands of hair flowing over your cheeks, weaving your visage into an enigma; countenance unreadable as you, akin to the plentiful stars, faded beneath the crowd’s gleam.  

You were used to living in shadows. Used to being a wallflower—attaching yourself to a dull corner, climbing the darkness and eyeing the crowd from above. 

“I find people more interesting than myself,” you had murmured, expressionless as your gaze traversed beyond the crowd, bleeding into their souls, “I’m merely a reader.” 

Your inquisitive stare bore into all but Sylus, but if you had bothered to cast him a glance, you would’ve seen the frown etched deep into his face. Why would you yearn to disappear, when he had spent half his life preparing—preparing to flaunt you, to blind himself with your shine, to hold you to the world and revel as they seethed at what they could never have?  

“Don’t you see?” His voice nudged, firm, unrelenting, breaking you out of your trance. “You shine the brightest.” And yet, his words had never reached you. You only smiled, nodded, and returned, as if it were merely a compliment bestowed out of necessity, to play the part of love-struck mates. In your ignorance, his heart clenched. How could you ever see? You—who had veiled all mirrors, refusing to stare yourself in the face. You, who had refused to look into his eyes. You, who always retreated, stepping back as a crowd surrounded himself. And he would reach, lift his arm, call out your name, but you did not turn back. 

The wind would not carry you to his arms, but in every lifetime, strip you away. And in this universe, you did not fight it, did not oppose the direction of its flow. 

The nights you withered in silence, bubbling like an overflowing pot; he held you ever so gently. He would still the moon, silence the buzz of life if it had meant you would feel safer in this world. It was amidst the melancholy of these nights that he would whisper to you, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the dip of your palm, pressing gently on your vein, relishing in how it throbbed in sync with your heartbeat: “We are kindred spirits. We are one and the same.” 

But at his solace, you would only respond with a soft smile and a bundle of words wrapped with your insecurity—”We are not alike. You and me, we are worlds apart.” 

Oh, how his eyes burned with tears at your upsetting ignorance. How your lover yearned to merely encompass you in his heart, to drown you beneath his ribs and let you peer into his writhing bag of flesh. For if you had, you would know: kindred spirits can be two souls so unalike; their only tether is their unbridled love. For adoration blossoms only amidst hearts that are kin.  

“We are wrong.” His heart would break at your words. “We are not meant to be. You detest philanthropy, and I detest immorality. How could we have ever come to be?” 

“Why have you chosen me? Why me, and not someone more like yourself? I am a bird who will never fly. I am the dove who will always choose the cage.” 

Sylus pushed his mouth up to yours, threaded through the strands of your hair, and reassured: “The ways of the heart cannot be explained. It does what it wills, and cannot will what it wills.” 

And amidst some nights, when two bodies intertwined, moving against each other in a cocktail of bliss and sorrow, of sweat and stray tears, you would respond to him in agreement, tears bulging from your eyes, dripping down your lashes, curling in its path down your cheek; “Because what is love if not discrimination?” A soft, trembling smile would adorn your face. 

And in response, Sylus would cradle your cheek, kiss your tears away, and hold you up to the small world the two of you built upon your love. “Nobody is a paragon. We are all selfish in our affections. Because a stubborn heart does what it wills.” A chaste kiss captured your lips, the devotion seeping into your tongue like bleeding watercolor. “But bearing a heart is not a sin.” 

In each other’s arms, you would unwind, unravel, and come undone a thousand times and over. You would bleed, laugh, wail, and love. Love is discrimination. Love is selfish. But the act of loving is not a transgression. Even if you fled from his unbridled adoration, Sylus would trust in your return. If you dissolved into the darkness, Sylus would stand as the object casting the shadow. For you to step outside your cage and spread your wings, your lover would perpetuate an eternity, and throughout that endless stretch of time, he would await the first whites of your feathers soaring in the sky. 

“We are kindred spirits,” Sylus smiled, “Our hearts will always beat in rhythm.” 

[lvmie3ree]

office siren fem!zayne BON APPETIT

[piixsuke]

LADS (EX) ON THE BEACH ⋆˚࿔

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ synopsis: on 'ex on the beach', singles arrive in a tropical paradise, only to be surprised when their exes show up 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. 'WHOSE EX IS NEXT?'

⋆☀︎｡ the villa welcomes, newest contestant: ZAYNE LI

» previously: EP. O1 ⋆˚࿔ EP. O2

ex!bf!Zayne who was told to wait and watch you from afar, as your date with another man progressed, undisturbed - infuriatingly so. his sweet, adoring hazel eyes now the darkest of shades; consumed by utter, antsy impatience. his gaze uncontrollably spellbound by you - silently screaming, desperately begging for you to finally turn to him; acknowledging his presence, stepping back into your life.

"as soon as the yoga instructor steps out of that door," one of the producers covers his mouth, behind the sweaty, hefty palm of his hand, in a calculated attempt to conceal the unknown crew's presence. "everything changes," the man looks straight into zayne's eyes, slowly readjusting, over his black earpieces, the faint string of the microphone. "no more restraint, no more hiding. go to her"

the shadows cling onto his broad figure. hugging and sultry digging their way into his flesh. hiding and treacherously masking his sweet, candid traits, making him appear: buffer, bigger, dangerous. the poor unknown contestant shook in his seat, as his eyes quivery scanned their way all over his body. "what the . . ." he whispered. unknowingly backing away from you. your ex boyfriend dragged a trembling hand down his sternum. soothingly massaging his chest, in a desperate attempt to tame the furious, uncontrolled thumping of his deranged heart. his hazel eyes, once again locked on you. his darkening pupil dangerously blown out of proportions. time like the greatest of his enemies - as your body, almost in a torturing slow motion, turned to his.

"zayne . . ." you murmured. your hand gently hovering above the exposed skin of your left breast, cupping - holding your fugitive heart in place. "oh my god! zayne!" deft, almost intangible footsteps carried you to him. your bodies like two pieces of the same puzzle - eager to lock back in to place. longing to find their way back to one another. "hey," he murmured - his tone hefty, dangerous as it caressed the weak outline of your beating heart. his big, muscular arms wrapped around your incredulous frame. guiding closer, deeper into his touch. both his massive hands designed their place over your body. his right hand heavily entwined within the plush flesh of your lower back. subduing your nervous system into relaxation, using the soft pads of his digits to draw mystical, unclear shapes all over your skin. his left hand, buried within the smooth, silky texture of your hair - cradling the back of your head, in the comfort of his all knowing caresses. "hey, breath. breath sweetheart, c'mon. in and out, good. good just like that, I've got you. just keep breathing for me"

ex!bf!Zayne who strolls back into your life, like prince fucking charming - in a swimsuit.

ex!bf!Zayne who takes place behind you. his big hands all over your body - tracing, softly stroking every inch of your bare flesh - guiding you through every single, intricate yoga position. "I missed you," zayne faintly mumbled. his lips sweetly brushing against the shell of your ear - making you softly shake your head from side to side, as you fought the irresistible urge to let your eyes roll into the back of your skull. "so," the big, moonlit arch of his nose faintly scraped against your purring jaw. "so much" he breathed you in - gulping you down like the holiest of aromas. suddenly, feeling his lungs harshly quiver beneath the pressure of your essence - as though, the years before your return, had been nothing but airless silence.

he watched as your back arched, like the filthiest of fantasies, under his attentive gaze. one of his hand tenderly hovering above the small of your back - softly pushing you, from time to time, further down. the other, sensually draped over your the lower part of your abdomen. the pressure of his hands on you, like the gentlest of teachers, as he helped you steadying your faltering form. "oh, shit" he cursed under his breath. observing as his brattish hands drew immoral, wicked paths over your body. you faintly gasped into the salty, summery breeze, the moment the smooth pads of his digits slowly ghosted over, your already, arched spine. "mh, come back up. up, to me, come on," his long, slender digits faintly wrapped around your throat; guiding you back into an upright position, once again caging your body inside his unwavering hold. "there. you're so welcome, baby"

position after position, both of your desires deepened, becoming: urgent, sloppier, insatiable. intaking a quick, shuddering breaths, zayne's hands loosely clasped around your wrists. "allow me" in a deliberate slow motion, he leisurely guided your arms above your head. his fingers gently entwined with yours, leading your the palms of your hands to tenderly rest against each other. "you see," he whispered, merely millimetres away from the corner of your mouth. "in this position, your airflow should feel . . . rather different" his hand sluggishly descended over your torso. his fingers gently applying soothing, intoxicating pressure right over your sternum. "deeper, rougher — almost painful at times" both his thumb and index finger forcefully pushed their way in between the confined space of your breasts. making you loudly moan, as the sudden pressure of your breathing felt like a tiny push towards the edge of your pleasure. "oh," he mimicked your breathless whisper of pleasure. subtly, grinding the print of his prominent mushroomy tip against the round, bare flesh of your ass. "can you feel it, sweet girl?"

ex!bf!Zayne who is a bit taken aback, the moment he steps foot into the villa, watching as you simply stride away with your girlfriends - leaving him behind, like something that plainly fell out of your pocket and never made its way back to you.

ex!bf!Zayne who catches up to you - after, gut-wrenching, hours of being unambiguously ignored. slamming the big bathroom door behind his back, he steps into the viciously lit room. his eyes like the wildest of predators, as he looked for you all throughout the extensive space. his hands were on you before you could even comprehend what was happening. a sudden, startled gasp left the small opening created by your lips. your back gently hit the icy cold texture of the wall. "what is this?" he asked, heavily panting into the sensitive flesh of your neck. "what happened?" your hands clawed their way over his body. your coloured fingernail, forcefully digging into the satin texture of his button up shirt. "why are you pushing me away?" he feebly growled. his hazel eyes, now deeply interlinked with yours. "don't ignore me. fuck, don't shut me out, just talk to me" his forehead tenderly pressed against yours. "let me in," he whispered, hugging the plush flesh of your clothed hips in his hold. "let me hear you talk to me again, please"

"you're unbelievable" his mouth lightly twitched, as it tauntingly hovered above your neck. "what did you want me do to," a beat of silence - a pause that felt like the cruelest of tortures. "in front of all those people?" his teeth deliberately brushed against the intensifying beating of your heart. a faint, almost soundless whine quavered in your throat. "anything," you impatiently spat out. your hands tightly closed into two hefty fists. banging and barbarically shaking against the prominent outline of his toned pecs. "anything zayne, just — mmhp!" with a mind of their own, his lips, finally claimed yours.

"why are you moving like that, sweetheart?" he teased. subtly squeezing harder onto the round, soft flesh of your ass - noiselessly moving you up and down his already erect shaft. "mh, we're merely kissing after all" you stridently cried out, tightening your legs around zayne's strong hips, the moment a harsh, merciless thrust of his pelvis ground straight over your swollen, hard clit. "shh, baby, c'mon. if you stay quiet enough, no one will walk in on us"

ex!bf!Zayne who has to bite back several smirks during dinner. watching as everybody around you is utterly shocked at your sudden change of behaviour towards your, so called, 'ex boyfriend'.

"whatever happened between you two, mh?" someone asks, raising their half empty wine glass to their aid, to point at both you and zayne. "yeah, what did you do to her?" zayne gives them a small, polite smile. widening his legs for you to comfortably slip inside, taking your rightful place on his lap. "everything she wanted"

ex!bf!Zayne who's now, being dragged up the stairs, directly into the wolf's den - 'the private suite'.

ex!bf!Zayne who, for the hundredth time today, ends up behind you. his big, scorching hands sensually resting over your hips. his knees fervently grazing against the flat, silky texture of the bed sheets. "hold it," he reminds you. nodding you clutch your fingers tighter, deeper into the sheets that is obediently covering, masking both of your naked bodies away from the cameras. "don't ever let go, can you do that for me, baby?" he doesn't even wait for you to answer - his self-restraint completely crumbling at the heavenly sight of your sopping, drenched folds. he dives in, like started man being offered a real meal for the first time in years. his tongue hungrily, sloppily lapping at your core, a sinful mixture of your own arousal and his saliva blending right over your aching needs. your torso deepens into the mattress, making your back arch even more into his demanding touches. "we can't — 'sluuurp', mhp fuck baby. you taste fuckin' divine" he incoherently mumbles, his mouth hovering above your sobbing cunt as he fucking devours you from behind. "we can't keep this up for long, not here — don't make chase you, stay mmmhp still" his big nose grinds against the circumference of your quivering entrance, making your eyes roll in to the back of your head. "good girl, just like that. let me make you feel good a little longer, yeah?" your hips nastily ground against his face. your syrupy, candied arousal heavily dripping down his pretty face. "fuck, oh fuuuck — say my name again. please, 'sluuurp' oh please"

ex!bf!Zayne who effortlessly manhandles you, placing your body on top of his. allowing to grind against him, letting you to set the pace, the rhythm, everything. "see? so much easier now — mhhshit — sitting on my like this" your hips faintly stuttered over his cock. your throbbing pussy, aching to be touched again - plainly weeping pearly, exhilarating tears. "mmmgh! — I think it's getting — augh! fuck, keeping going — more intense now" your clit wildly pulsed against his slick coated cock. "yeah? for you too, baby? ah-ah, mhfuck then cum f'me"

ex!bf!Zayne who fucks you into the mattress. pounding into your little, quivering cunt like a mad man. your legs over his shoulder. his hands on either sides of your head, keeping him in place as he pathetically loses his mind above you. "quiet," he silences you, preventing you to utter even a single word - covering your mouth with his. "there's no need to talk — augh! not here, not here. fuck they can't hear you, don't let them" his pinkish, mushroomy tips forcefully slips back inside of you. his length pulsing and twitching as your walls desperate clench around him, miserably trying to adjust to his impotent girth. "there, fu-huuck. there's no need — you're so tight baby, fuckfuck fuck — for you to talk," almost, as if to prove a point, he slaps his hand over your mouth. eagerly, letting his massive palm swallow every filthy, vulgar sounds who dares to glide past your hatched lips. "you're body 's so honest, so good to me; it will tell me everything I need to know"

ex!bf!Zayne who's not quite your ex anymore.

© 𝐚𝐱𝐫𝐢𝐢𝐚𝐚

a/n: IF YOU'RE ABLE TO SEE THIS, PLEASE INTERACT!!! 'cause I fear I may be getting shadow-banned and I'm literally going insane. I just need proofs :(((((

[abyssyby]

— the Hunter's Association would like to invite you to attend an honorable conference about the future of hunter-tech, upsetting a nest of dragons missing their mother

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: happy valentine's! here's a beach episode!! i failed posting this on the last day of feb oops but i hope it's the thought that counts 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 hit a lot of walls writing this, but it was still incredibly fun nonetheless! enjoys! ❀-urs

important heads up for context of this story: lucian and kyros are (my headcanon) sylus's twin boys. 2 years in this one! ᡣ𐭩

sylus & his family | sylus x reader | fluff, hurt/comfort, family angst, suggestive themes, swearing, mc feeling like a bad mama, sylus being a menace, papa!sylus, mama!reader, bigbro!lukenkieran, bird!mephisto

When Sylus holds you, he never takes it for granted. 

His hands will snake around your waist and creep over your back. His touch tender and kind. 

One palm rests at the base of your skull, while the other pulls you impossibly close to his warmth, caged in a vice of power and affection you are happy to be ensnared in.

Just as he dislikes coming home now to a quiet house, he absolutely hates going to bed alone. 

With you out on missions and meetings that warrant a statue of your visage in the heart of Linkon itself, he is left to suffer a cuddle-less, wife-less bed. Waking only when you slip beneath the covers and curl against his back like a cub in the throes of winter. He turns and holds you, of course, always, but when he wakes, you are gone again.

He’s reminded of the fact that you’d once go two weeks without seeing each other and feel nothing but a faint sense of longing and joyful anticipation of when you’d see each other again next. Now he feels as if he can’t take a full breath without a glimpse of you within a single day. 

A favorable development. 

Though when you come home and tell him that you’ll be away for the weekend for a mission, he feels as if the sky might fall from its hinges any moment. 

He really isn’t one for assuming doomsday, especially when he is capable of being its harbinger. So it comes to a shock to him too that he spirals this time as he watches you pack a bag and string out your apologies. 

“…on Valentine’s Day.” Is when he comes to, for you are now before him and winding your arms around his neck. He wastes no time pulling you to his lap and securing you with both hands on your hips. 

“Hm?” 

“You think I’m terrible.” 

He scoffs. “No, of course not.” His fingers are magic against the knots at the top of your spine, pressing meticulously in gentle circles. “We can celebrate another time.” 

His gentle ministrations do wonders for your tense shoulders, but nothing for your already guilt-ridden heart. You can’t help but pepper his face with kisses, light butterfly wings beating against his soft skin. “I’ve been away for too long.” 

He purses his lips. Returns a peck. “No one holds that against you, my love.” 

He’s right, but the realization makes your heart break more. 

Sylus has said no ill word against you ever, not since you started taking overtime, not since you started falling asleep during conversations. Say it be work that beat you down, but even then the choking blame you put on yourself for not being able to balance things seizes your insides and weighs you down in the tar of your misery. 

Even your children are forced to understand— though incapable of asking why, you see it in their eyes when they watch you leave how strange it is for mama to go. How sad it is mama cannot stay. 

Before you know it, your nose is burning, and the pressure behind your eyes pushes hot tears forward. Painful comets racing down your cheeks, colliding with the quick pads of your husband’s thumb. 

“Beloved…” he murmurs. Rarely does he show pity for you, but you hear it in his tone now. “Come now.” 

“I’m just so tired...” the admission is coated in a sob; you are lucky is still intelligible nonetheless. For Sylus, he doesn’t need the clarity; he already understands. 

“I know.” He holds you tighter, buries you deeper into his embrace. A pillar in the sea, bearing of the brunt of your crashing waves. 

“I miss you.” You’re shaking. He hates it, wonders if holding on will keep you from collapsing any further. “I miss you, I miss my babies, I miss my house— I miss you.” 

He has half a mind to destroy the association. For no political or moral gain aside from taking his wife home for the rest of the week. Fully aware of how irrational it may be, but willing— oh, so willing. Just say the word. 

“I miss you too.” He says, whispered like a prayer against your skin. An accumulation of the times he’s said it before, balled up into this one now. Heavy. Aching. Painful. Raw. “I miss you so much.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your husband is not in bed the next morning. 

But your bags are already in the car, your carryon is arranged, your wallet stuffed and your breakfast is warm on the table. Waiting with two little babies in their high chairs, smushing bananas in their fingers and on their cheeks. 

Their faces light up at the sight of you. Legs wiggling like wild worms in their onesies especially when you engulf them in kisses. You try to push aside the fear that they’ve grown in your absence and try to focus on the few hours you have before you have to leave again. 

“Where’s papa?” You ask your littles, brushing back their hair from their sticky round cheeks. Their eyes shining as they stare at you like you hung each star in the sky by hand. And maybe that’s what you do, they think, when you’re off to work. 

“Papa nana.” Lucian tells you, offering you a piece pureed by his own hand. “Papa nana. Mm nummy!” 

“Papa… went out to get more bananas?” You deduce, taking your thumb and wiping the corners of his familiar upturned smirk. 

“Papa went to chop more bananas.” Corrects said papa from behind, circling around the kitchen island to get to you. The plate of chopped fruit is placed before you and the original owner of the smirk presses his lips to your hair. “Good morning.” 

His voice pleasantly reminds you of the night before, how his comforting words accompanied by his tender actions guided you through the storm of your distress and docked you safely and blissfully to shore. 

Heat crawls up your neck and stains your cheeks before he can even notice. 

He does anyway, of course. He kisses you a few times more before asking you to sit and eat. 

Lucian continues to offer you bananas. Kyros shows you how he can now count to three. You gather that the big twins have taught them a song, which they sing for you in their own glorious key. 

Each bite of your breakfast felt like a march to the end of the road. And to your disappointment, the food is finished and Kyros has to go potty. 

So you change him. You rarely do nowadays, and after breakfast, it’s the least you can do. You don’t mind, you like taking the time to talk to him— his speech quietly emerging at this age in clumsy popcorn imitations and patchwork grammar. He surprises you this time with it, while you’re busy fastening his diaper down, he asks. “Mama go bye?” 

And how your heart breaks. 

“Mama… has to go for a few days,” you admit regretfully. 

“No, mama,” he frowns, bottom lip jutted out and wobbling. Already fearing the ache of your absence, the disappointment of waddling into a room and seeing you aren’t there. That much he understands, that much he abhors. 

He demands. “Mama home.”

“Just a few days, my angel.” you don’t lie, but you feel as though you are. Like it doesn’t matter what you say. To him, it’s happened one time too many that he’s resorted to begging you to stay. “And then— and then I’ll be back.” 

“No!” He squeaks, perching himself up on his knees. The fabric of your shirt twist through his little fingers. “No, pease! Mama!” 

A bitterness coats your tongue and panic rises in your chest. Already you curse what work has whittled you down to, how it has dulled the edges of your solid conviction and diluted the line between recognizing want and need in your children. 

With weakened knees, you cannot find it in yourself to de-escalate your son’s emotions— offer an explanation, an alternative. None of that come to light, except— 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whimper into his silver hair. Seeming darker and lacking its natural luster now. “Mama’s here.” 

“No! No!” Kyros wails, already too lost in his sadness to hear your placating whispers. So seldomly does he throw his tantrums that you are at a loss with what to do, which makes you feel worse. 

You have little time to panic before Sylus enters and offers his help. With tears in your eyes, you hand him the wailing Kyros and wrap your arms tightly around yourself. Attempting to shrink, to hold fast and keep it together. None of it is easy. 

“Come here.” Says Sylus amidst him shushing the toddler, pulling you to his side too and tucking you under his arm. Adding another layer of bindings around your fracturing self. “It’s okay.” 

In his other arm, Kyros is curled in on his bicep like a koala, Sylus’s hand wrapped securely on the back of his skull. Teeth chattering and chest bubbling with hiccups that make you worry for his breathing. 

Sylus is both your tethers to this world as you threaten to collapse into the cosmos.

Once the tension dies down, Kyros demands to be returned to you, quietly burying himself in your arms. Hoping maybe the weight of him will anchor you down within the walls of the house. You regulate yourself by holding him close and murmuring in his hair. Counting, just as he showed you at the table, each breath together as your frustrations fade in the current. 

“Mama will be back, okay?” it’s a relief when he nods without protest, though the dip in his brow and the sinking corners of his mouth tell you enough of what he truly feels. 

They drive you to the airport. You sit between two carseats in the back, a pillowy fist wrapped around each of your ring fingers. Kyros continues to sniffle at you with watery eyes while Lucian names the different charms on your bracelet, saying “eat?” to ones that look like food. The way you sing no! makes him smile. 

There is little fuss when the car stops and Sylus unloads your bags. Kyros doesn’t cry anymore, but Lucian whines at the loss of your hand on his belly. With a kiss each, you bid them a bitter goodbye before slipping out and into Sylus’s arms for a quick embrace. 

Tara and Simone wait by the entrance, waving at you to hurry. You have half a mind to pretend like you don’t see them. Maybe slink back to the car, to your boys. Maybe even take the wheel and drive away yourself. 

“Onychinus will give you paid time off,” Sylus’s lips press into your temple where you feel him smile. He sees the dimness in your gaze when you look up and he kisses your fluttering lashes. The weight of an object is placed in your grip— a mysterious red paper bag stapled shut at the top. “We value our employees families and personal lives, after all.” 

That pulls a smile out of you, however faint it is, it’s success enough for him. “Consider it?”

“I will.” you say, accepting another kiss before parting ways once more.

You escape the tearful goodbye, or so you think. Tara just had to ask about the bag you received from your husband, curiosity getting the best of her. The bag goes pop! pop! as you pull against the staples.

You’re crying before you even realize it when she helps you take out the circular plushies from the bag— one red, one orange— “Tomatoes?” 

You nod, a melting monster of snot and tears, as you reach for them and cradle them close. 

Tara comforts with gentle understanding as the plane takes off. She wonders why you’re sobbing about Onychinus into your plushies, but chalks it up to the stress of the recent missions. Good on you to be focused despite everything else, she supposes. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Sylus has no trouble cheering up his two sad sons. 

He likes to take pride in the fact that he is now an expert in detecting their current state of emotions and helping them feel what they ought to feel. Right now, the clear answer to their sadness is obviously— 

“Ey-pane!” shrieks Lucian on his arm, pointing at the aircraft they walk towards. “Ey-pane! Big ey-pane!” 

Kyros has his face hidden from the sun in Sylus’s chest and his ears covered with both hands, but he peeks ever so slightly to see what his brother is so excited about. Once he gets it, he moves to more important things. “Papa, hooot!” 

“I know, I know,” chuckles Sylus, ascending the stairs to the jet faster to get his whiny little dragons out of the sunshine. 

Once set down, they are like tiny chicks in search for something to peck at. Pressing buttons on seats, poking screens and searching for in-flight sandwiches, their little giggles filling the cabin. 

Sylus knocks on the captains’ quarters and like a magic trick out pop the big twins. Their usual dark uniforms now replaced with big floral shirts over white tank tops and shorts. 

The littles are reduced to quick, excited wheezy breaths as Luke bends down to scoop them up in his embrace. They start to chatter about in-flight cheese sandwiches so Sylus is able to escape to the helm and take his seat in the pilot’s chair.

“Does boss’ma know you’re doing this?” Kieran asks between preflight check offs. 

Sylus didn’t often smile before his the little ones, even now Kieran is thrown off by the wolfish grin that graces his father’s face—both fearsome and, if even possible, endearing. “Don’t people expect gifts for Valentine’s Day?” 

— 

You’re sure they’ve done more for you than this. 

But you’re inclined to think that after lending your years to the association fighting off monsters and being Linkon’s vigilant protector has only gained you a seat in the most boring and unnecessary conference about new age weaponry your husband probably has surpassed in improvements with his own technology by months. 

Your colleagues are just as bored as you, despite having no same sentiments, so they do little to judge your grumpy disposition and lack of enthusiasm regarding such groundbreaking work. 

Tara yawns on her seat beside you, leaning forward on the table and resting her head on her palm. “Thought we were at least going to test these things out if they wanted us all the way out here.” 

You let out a noncommittal sound from your throat, between a groan and a grunt, that serves as your whole response, which Tara agrees with emitting a sound similar to your own. 

Mercy is rationed in this conference, granted in breaks few and far between they feel accidental.

It is no balm to the irritated ego that it is set within the multipurpose-hall of a luxurious hotel— the inside is a sin of round tables with too-hard chairs doused in dull office white lights to keep the meeting straightforward and formal— pressed up against a golden shoreline and glistening waves that belonged to an entirely different world completely. 

Standing on the balcony of your double suite, the sun thaws away the chill that has crawled onto your skin and into your bones when you sat there motionless listening to protocol synthesis and evol-weapon synchronization. The crick in your neck becomes unbearable the more you think about it. 

The seaside view paints you a scene below of the beach moving in its unhurried pace. Of couples resting beneath the shade of comically large umbrellas, of children running with kites and buckets along the sand and into the water, of people with restful limbs and quiet minds enjoying the weekend with the people they love. 

The sun burns now, actually. Sweat builds on your forehead and temples, sticky and wrong. There is a heat that presses and weighs down in your chest despite the beauty of what you see. You are in desperate need of respite.

Sylus’s number rings thrice before he picks up the phone. 

“Sweetie?” 

“Hi, I just called to check in.” You say, voice pitched uncharacteristically higher. Masquerading a joyful tone. “How are the kids?” 

“They’re alright,” says Sylus. He doesn’t miss a beat when he asks, “Are you?” 

You shouldn’t be surprised that you are practically a picture book to him laid bare no matter how hard you try. “I’m fine.”

“Mm.” 

“Just… tired,” you confess. It hasn’t even been a day and you feel like you’ve spent a week’s worth of energy. 

From this morning to now, finally being able to admit it to someone else, you feel the entire weight of it all crash onto your shoulders— harsh, distant, relentless as the surf. “It’s all so boring.”

Sylus chuckles, the sound crinkles slightly on the line. “What can I do to make you feel better?” 

You hum. “Any suggestions?” 

“An airstrike?” 

You sputter. “No!” 

His laugh is rich and refreshing. “Something smaller then? I can pull the fire alarm.” 

It is you now who laughs, making your way back into the cool air conditioned embrace of your room. Too preoccupied to slide the door closed, the warm breeze follows you in. Cushions and quilts catch your indecision as you lie back on the bed, your two tomatoes roll mindlessly to your side. “Then all my things would be wet.” 

“Then how about a drink?” 

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Sylus…” you hang off the side of the bed like you’ve been swallowed by it, scrambling excitedly to get up. It’s all too timed, too planned to be anything of a coincidence. Knowing your husband, he is very good with set-up, and is the very best with executions. 

His warnings fly over your head in the haze of excitement as you throw your door open. And you almost fall into the arms of your guest. 

But instead, you blink at the Tara holding two yellow drinks in his hand. Glasses sweating, ice dripping over fingers. She tilts her head at you in amusement. “Someone sent drinks up to our room!” 

Your shoulders shake when you chuckle in embarrassment, making way for her to come in and picking up your phone from the ground. It says, “Courtesy of Onychinus.” 

“Bastard.” You murmur back. 

He grins on the other side. Unbeknownst to you, he is just sliding his keycard into the chaos of his own lodging, your four children having thought it fun to play catch the bird indoors. 

He doesn’t give you time to hear before he’s rushing to say, “I love you. I’ll have someone pull the fire alarm soon.” 

You’re thankful for Tara’s presence to lighten up the disappointment you feel in your gut when you sit with her and enjoy your complimentary drinks. He’s made sure to order your favorite, sweet and refreshingly perfect of a summer’s day. 

And at the bottom, embedded in the glass, it reads: Happy Valentine’s Day.

 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

You aren’t suffering, per se, but you do want to peel the drapery apart in the function room and jump out the window by day two. 

The way you passed out last night should be studied. You aren’t sure which exhausted you more, the travel over or having to upkeep the sheer will to live in the conference. Waking up to missed calls from your family on your phone only made you feel worse. 

You didn’t expect things to turn around just before lunch. They’d said— the speaker had an urgent call from their research facility. Details can’t be disclosed right now, so we’ll have to postpone the conference. 

Chairs scraped. The hall echoes idle mumbles bursting slowly into subtly relieved chatter. The empty stage suddenly felt so alluring you could get up and dance on it. 

Home. You were going home. 

The doors to your bedroom seemed to morph into the gates of heaven. Inside you’ll be able to pack, book an early flight and get out of he— 

Your heart drops. At the sight of the empty hotel room, you can’t help but cry out. Because where— where are your things?! 

Tara’s are in her corner, untouched, you realize when your scramble around pathetically. Losing all sense. Crawling on all fours on the carpet, checking each crevice and closet they could possibly be in— “Shit! Are you kidding me?” 

Your ears ring, your head is spinning. What do you mean— your passport, your wallet, your shoes, your books and clothes— they’re all missing? That you were robbed in broad daylight? That there is yet another thing keeping you from going home? 

It’s a wonder you do not scream when you reach for the phone. It clatters on its outdated plastic holder and dials up the front desk. 

“S—“ 

“This is room M18, I’d like to report a theft. My bags, my valuables are all missing, and—and my passport, too. I hope this is all just a misunderstanding, I’ll be willing to cooperate in anyway that I can, but can you please, please just get here as soon as you can. I—“ your breath catches in your throat, and you get a grip of your slipping resolve. “Please, I need to go home.” 

The world— oh, it has a vendetta against you. You can’t quite figure just what you’ve done so absolutely horrendous that would warrant such cruelty. 

But there you are, flinching as the loud alarm blares from the hallway, drowning out the sound of the hotel’s response. Screams and thundering footsteps collide in the halls as people try to evacuate as quickly as possible. 

The sprinklers go off. 

Your hair is wet. The bed is now too. 

But you can’t find it in yourself to hang up— let alone run. 

“You should really evacuate, sweetie. Doesn’t the association teach you that much?”

Your eyes search for him before your brain even registers where his voice came from. In your hand, the phone stays on the line, and Sylus speaks to you again. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, and I thought the Hunter’s Association prides itself on urgency?” 

The balcony door slides open. 

Sylus steps into the room before you in all his materialized glory. 

Taking captive each thought and drawing it to himself. 

The water bounces off his clothes like there is an opposing force engulfing him, one that he extends to you when he reaches for your hand. “Beloved.” 

Later. You’ll be mad at him later. You promise yourself that when you run to him and jump into his awaiting embrace. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and breathes in your scent. As if what separated you was as great as a war and here he is promising you victory. 

“I hate you.” You murmur into his chest, nuzzling and charging up on his presence. 

He chuckles deeply, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Sylus listens to Tara on the phone with you as you drive away from the hotel, your hand grasped firmly in his as he plays with your wedding band. 

“Jenna says they’re moving the rest of the convention to another time since the function hall is all wet— but between you and me, thank goodness for that.” she whispers. “Apparently, the research issue was resolved and we were supposed to resume in the afternoon only if some kid hadn’t pulled the fire alarm. Honestly? Purr.”

Sylus snickers to your side and you pinch his rib.

“Anyway, I’ll see you back in Linkon! Oh, also— our bedroom was wet but none of my things are, how lucky is that?” 

You laugh and give your husband a sidelong glance. “I’ll see you in Linkon, Tara.” 

When you hang up, Sylus is the skipper receiver of your menacing glare. But it rolls off him like water off a duck. “We’re a little ways away from the beach house, you can take a nap.” 

“You’re impossible.” You deflate, shoulders dropping finally from its perpetual tension as you slide down against the passenger’s seat. 

His hand moves up to cup your jaw, thumb gliding over the plump of your cheek. He massages the joint in your mandible, sore from all the stress it’s gone through from your high-strung clenching. “I don’t take kindly to things that wedge themselves between me and my wife.” 

“Huh,” you lean into his touch. “So you weren’t okay with me being away.” 

“I never said I was.” he says, turning onto a road in the woods. His voice drops to burning wax, dripping off a candle. “If I recall correctly, I said I missed you and showed you exactly how much I—“ 

“Tsst!” you chide, flailing your arms around, hitting him on the shoulder. Your face burns hot and you’d be thankful if the floor swallowed you whole. “I get it.” 

“I don’t think you do—“ 

“I do! I do, I really do.” you bury your face in his palm, kissing its center to placate his mischief. He finds it amusing, recognizing the technique to be an imitation of Lucian’s pacifying signature. 

He’s held captive by your eyes, wide and appeasing in the afternoon light, brows swooping together to soften your giggles. He swallows down the onslaught of affection that lumps in his throat and forces himself to keep his eyes on the road as you tell him, “I love you.” 

He wonders if a detour into the trees can be arranged.

He only realizes that he’s said that out loud when you shriek at him again. “Sylus!” 

He wishes he can bottle up the laughter that bubbles out of you and bounces off the car upholstery and keep it in his glovebox forever. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The beach house is so uncharacteristically elegant you’d think it was plucked straight from the N109 zone and planted in the middle of a private coast.

Its tinted oak walls are swallowed by the darkness as the sun dips into the horizon. The porch lights are little stars between glass windows, curtains drawn in from the inside. Concealing your second surprise within. 

You’d have more time to drink in the details if it weren’t for your husband.

Sylus has abandoned his put-together self. His natural elegance replaced with this stumbling, lovestruck fool. Walking with a stride of a newly birthed giraffe, he bends his body down towards you, chasing kisses on your lips that threaten to run away. 

“Forgive me,” he grounds out, blocking the entrance in his open reverence. His lips capture yours in another deep kiss, as if stopping in the woods wasn’t nearly enough. His hand comes around, ensnaring your waist in a sturdy hold, practically lifting you off the ground towards him. “I just…” 

I’ve missed you. You’ve been gone for too long. I no longer know what it means to breathe without you. 

And you’d have been happy to go inside, spend the entire night with him if that is what it took, but it’s the way he stretched the seconds that concern you. As if you were about to walk into an unchangeable fate. So you hold his face, kiss him back with as much fervor as you piece it together. 

His breath is warm and ragged on your lips as he allows you to speak, “The kids are here, aren’t they?” 

He beams at your cleverness, corners of his mouth stretching into a charming smile that he presses once more onto your own. “There’s always a chance that they’re asl—“

Thud! “Papaa?” 

Through the wood, a little voice calls out, almost loud enough to make the door rattle. “Home, papa?” 

Sylus squeezes his eyes shut as you fall into him, giggling at your son’s inhuman ability to sense when his father is within range. If he were a terrible father, he would not have replied. “Lucian, is that you?”

A moment to process the question.

“Yes, I Woosian!” The thundering on the door increases as the little fist upon it starts knocking. Happy to have confirmed that his intuition was correct and papa is behind the door. “Papa, in! In!” 

The white flag of defeat flies in the air for now to make way for the excited voice awaiting inside the house. He kisses the top of your head, tender as a promise, and gets the door for the both of you. 

And as expected, the shrill delight that lights up your son’s face is compares to nothing else in the world. He hops, surprised, as he screams. “Mama! Mama home!”

You bend down to catch him before he knocks a tooth off into your knees. His hair a cool breath of snow you bury your face in. The sweet smell of him is enough to put your once raging soul at rest as it flows into your lungs in steady streams of breath. “Oh, Lucian!” 

He’s still happily wriggling in your arms when you hear the rapid and heavy thud-thud-thud-thud of feet on the wooden floor. Anticipation electrifies your soul.

Soon, Kyros rounds the corner, huffing and puffing as he pumps his tiny legs fast to get to you, and you almost cry at the sight. 

“Mama,” his voice is rough when he collides with you, burying himself impossibly deep into a hug and clinging to your clothes as if you’d fade with any less force. “Mama home.” 

It dawns on you that despite not being in your own house on the outskirts of Linkon, the children still call it home— more specifically, they are calling you home. 

And it takes everything in you not to break in their small embrace. “Mama home.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“Oh! Hot!” Lucian squeaks with each little step. Waddling left and right like a penguin, lifting his knees high and then gently setting them down in the sand. His little fingers wrapped around your one. “Oh! Hot!” 

“Do you need a lift, angel?” You inquire. One of your steps is three for him, and you can see Sylus and the others getting smaller in the distance. 

But your little sand crab insists on walking on his own. “I okay, mama.” 

You offer him a little smile and look towards the rest of your family. Luke’s and Kieran’s now tiny silhouettes work together to spread out the blanket and open the large beach umbrella. Sylus transitions Kyros from his shoulders into his arms, turning to wave at you. 

You mirror their waves, large, swooping arcs in the sky. While Lucian keeps his eyes on his vinyl clog-clad feet, still commentating each unique step in the sand. “Oh! Hot!” 

You tilt your head a little closer to his frame, making sure the shadow of your wide hat covers him entirely, as he so vehemently rejected his own sun hat. To add on to your failed attempts at protecting his sensitive skin from the dangerous sun, he just had to insist on dressing like papa. 

You can’t help but worry. “Is your belly cold, baby?” 

Lucian pauses his waddling and glances down on his exposed tummy through his unbuttoned floral shirt. All pudge and round, he pats it gently. “It okay.” 

You nod again. Taking another two steps. At this rate, you’ll probably get to the blanket by noon. 

“Oh! Hot!” 

“Woo-siii-aan!” Kyros screams from afar, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound. His voice is already small, but his pitch pinches that specific way that tells you he’s just that little bit annoyed. “Fast-ou!” 

Lucian squeaks back, “I comin’!” 

He turns back to you. “Mama, sand in my wippurs?” 

You crouch down now, pushing him to your knee so he can sit, you take one foot and shake it out. “Because there are holes in them.” 

“It broken?” He frowns, taking the shoe from you and looking into it. You giggle, finding him endlessly amusing. 

“No, angel, they’re made like that. They’re easy to clean like this.” You shake the other. He sits fully on your knee. “See? Shake, shake.” 

Once you place the clogs back on his feet, he has the realization that he doesn’t want sand coming into his broken-not-broken shoes anymore, and clings to your neck. “Mama, can carry?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief and wrap him up in your embrace as you take him up with you to a stand. They practically celebrate from afar at the sight— you spot Sylus’s head tilt back in relief too. 

Once you arrive at your picnic blanket, you set Lucian down beside his brother. Kyros sits in the cradle of Sylus’s criss-crossed legs, floating just above the earth. Not a grain of sand on his skin. 

“What a walk.” Sylus says, voice lilting in amusement, pulling you down beside him. He reaches up to swipe your forehead, wiping away sweat and strings of hair that had stuck to your cheeks. 

“You wouldn’t believe.” You huff. 

A sharp chill touches your shoulder makes you flinch. When you turn your head, Kieran is there with a wide grin, sticking an ice cold drink to your skin. You roll your eyes at him but take it anyway. 

The stretch you feel in your muscles begin in the squeeze of your shoulders, radiating down the cords of your back and arms, so tightly woven together than you are briefly concerned if you’ll be able to lean back on your palms. You settle in the position over time. 

Seagulls flit and flutter overhead, squawking a distant melody against the percussion of crashing waves. The air blows fresh, warm wind on your sun-kissed skin. Grains of sand stick to your toes and thighs. And for the first time in a long time, your breath returns to you by the lungfuls. 

There are apologies to be made at the tip of your tongue. Endless strings of sorrow and regret you think your family deserves from you, now blanketing your tired soul, even in the aftermath of the battle won. 

Sylus teases you about being a workaholic, bringing up retirement as a thoughtful alternative to the aching feet he would rub and the heavy shoulders he would kiss. 

You have more than enough to sustain you—but he never pushed. Not with that, not with Onychinus, not with anything at all. And that only fuels the fire that he deserves the most repentance of all.  

You swallow down the anxiety building in your throat because you shouldn’t be feeling this way still having passed through the light at the end of the tunnel. That it is in this betrayal that makes all your sorries null and void— to be here and not all at once. It is an implosion that wreaks havoc, and in its ashes: the harrowing thought of being a bad mother.

Sylus has a knack for that, as he’s made well aware of by your youngest son.

So when he turns to you, eyes blank as you stare at the clouds, he knows exactly where you are and the kind of stars that are imploding in your mind at that moment. He places the pin in the grenade with a single touch. 

Muffled conversations come to focus as you are tethered back, meeting his brief gaze. Soft and forgiving. So moving that now you must do anything else but think. 

You hear Sylus talking to Kyros about getting down, Lucian asking about his plastic sand toys and Kieran shuffling to get up from the blanket to join Luke in the water. 

Like clockwork, instinct leads your attention to movement. “Pause.” 

Kieran freezes midway his squat to get up. You lift your shades over your head and inspect his cheeks. “Sunscreen.”

“I already put—“

“Again,” you make no room for argument. The sunscreen is plucked from the beach bag from its place beside the plastic bucket of shovels and molds, that is handed to Lucian who immediately stops pestering his father with a little “yay!”

Kieran rivals Kyros’s poutiness and yet he slumps before you like a child. Whining with no real weight, “Why do I have to and Luke doesn’t?” 

You click your tongue, smearing the cream under his eyes and on the bridge of his nose. He shifts slightly, but you press a finger to both dips of his cheekbones. “You go tell him to come back here so he can put on another layer too.” 

Kieran huffs again and turns to Sylus for backup. “Boss—“

“You’ll listen if you know what’s good for you.” is all Sylus spares him, barely even turning to look as he continues to appeal to a different toddler. 

“Kier, it’s not that bad.”

“But it gets all streaky,” his voice drops to a murmur. “And I don’t need your help. It’s embarrassing…” 

“To who?” your voice pitches in amusement. You turn his chin to the rest of the beach, emptiness stretching for miles you wonder if the beach house is the only property Sylus bought. Shaking your head in exasperation you swipe the final line of sunscreen over the tips of his ears. “Besides, you have the streaks because you don’t put it on right.” 

Your fingers skim over her scars more gently than the rest of his skin. Smoothening over them with feather-like force, without needing his instruction.

Kieran sits there for a moment, eyes closed and body rigid. Processing the emotions running through his body like a toddler. Feeling… new. He’s never had to put sunscreen on in the N109 zone, let alone having someone else do it for him with the intention of care. Of knowing.  

Secretly, he likes it. Sure, of course he does. 

He doesn’t remember much of his mother, nor has he really tried. Both he and his brother were raised to be weapons with no time to mourn what they do not know of. So when you act this way… kind, concerned, caring, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

But he swallows it all anyway, pushing past the difficult angst that has built up in his throat and makes his voice crack like a teenager’s. “Okay, okay— can I go?” 

You beam at the state of him: head immobilized, eyes straining to the side, watching Luke hoot and holler as he does donuts on the jet ski. 

Blissfully unaware of the turning tides within him as you think, who would have ever thought he had the capacity to match your two and a half year old with his behavior? 

“Call Luke!” is as much as you get out before he’s bolting off to the call of the sea.

Turning to Sylus, you point to Kieran incredulously. “Did you see all of that?”

He hums. Sylus seems to be seeing through more than one person today. He’s terribly intrigued by the fires being lit and put out all in one breath in his family’s minds, transparent on their faces. 

Meanwhile, he’s been catering to a little kitten up a tree who doesn’t seem to want to be saved.

“Mm, he’s stubborn.” Sylus groans, straightening his back. A sigh deep from the cave of his chest deflates him as he pokes on his cranky toddler’s cheek. “Like this one.”

“Not! Not ‘tubon!” Kyros harrumphs, kicking his little legs out to the sides. Careful not to come in contact with the ground. 

“Oh?” Being preoccupied with Kieran, you hadn’t even noticed your husband participating in a silent argument with your son. “What’s the matter here?” 

“He—“ Sylus pinches Kyros’s cheek. His hand is promptly swatted away. “—doesn’t want to get dirty.” 

“What, the sand?” 

“Icky yuck!” Kyros gags, turning his head away from you and crowding himself closer to Sylus’s torso.

“Oh, Kyros, but look at Lucian,” you try, glancing at his twin brother who was having the time of his life digging a shallow hole between his legs. Simultaneously taking away and filling the void up again with a tiny mountain. The joy isn’t in progress, you suppose. “He’s digging a hole!”

“Makin’ cake!” he corrects, muffled.

Chewing.

“He’s making a ca—oh no!”

“Lucian,” Sylus titters, light and charming, leaning forward to dust away the sand on his cheeks, while you ask him to spit the sand he ingested out into your cupped palm. 

“Blegh! Not cake!” Lucian sputters. 

Kyros’s petulant rejection transforms into a boisterous laugh at his brother’s misery, despite reaching forward to mirror Sylus’s gentle caresses. “Ah-no! Woosian!”

You turn to rinse your hand with a bottle of water and zoom out. Seeing your boys through another lens for a moment.

Time slows. Sylus’s laugh gets louder. Lucian doesn’t understand why the sand on his cheeks get worse when he tries to wipe it clean with his sandier fingers, Kyros is giggling too at his brother’s funny misfortune and how his papa’s hiccuping belly seems to jostle him around on his seat. 

Your heart swells, aches with every second. Knowing you can never frame it or recreate it ever again. Sentimentality chokes you with flowers, and you feel your cheeks heat from more than just the sun.

This is what you had been missing out on for weeks on end. This is the seed once planted now in stages of growth. 

And right in the center oof it all is your husband, bright and sturdy and strong. Holding up the fort. Keeping you all afloat. Taking up the load you cannot bear and lifting it himself. 

And for once, you do not see your mistakes or your shortcomings. 

All you see is him. 

“Beloved, we’d like some, please.” Sylus says, pulling you out of your framing thoughts and back into the portrait itself.

You blink a few times. 

He tilts his head. 

You smile.

His fingers brush against yours when he takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He pours water onto Lucian’s crusted cheeks. Round and plump treasures reveal themselves beneath the dusted surface.

Kyros helps wipe it away with the short sleeve of his shirt. Unconsciously setting his one foot on the sand to reach; his hands also already sandy themselves. You stifle a giggle. 

“All better,” Sylus announces, presenting to you Lucian’s clean cheeks glistening like butter buns in the sunlight. He can’t help but lean down to bite on them with sheathed teeth. 

Kyros does the same, traveling the short distance over the sand, leaning into the cheek with a dramatic “Om!” to his head.

“Ah!” Lucian giggles, falling over, grabbing the first thing his hands latch onto—Kyros—and bringing it down with him.

Laughter joins the chorus of birds and waves. Sung by all four in your little circle.

Kyros rolls over into the sand laughing so hard his eyes can barely open. Lucian shakes his hair out like a puppy, fueling the fires of amusement.

Your own stomach hurts from the joy.

And from the corner of your eye, you catch Sylus—waves to ripples laughter shaking his shoulders and reverent eyes coming back to you. 

He wonders how you could rival the blinding sun with your light. Wonders how you, beautiful and radiant, allowed him to have this— all of this.

Relishes the beautiful look on your face, the relaxed curve of your posture, the cant of your giggles. Knows deeply how much you needed this, how important it was for you to get away from work, to come home.

You look back. Give him a genuine smile. One that can’t help but scream how you are endlessly grateful for him and swears his heart stops. 

With the littles flopping over each other on the sand, chanting “not cake! not cake!”, rewinding the joke from the start, you take the chance to lean towards your husband and gift him a kiss.

He hums into it, and naturally dips his head to taste more of you. Never getting enough. He asks for a reason through pecks, unwilling to part for you for something so confusing and yet so trivial all at once. 

But you don’t give him one. Not verbally. Instead, you devour him like a stranded sailor would land until he says enough—if he ever will.

A disgruntled “eugh,” interrupts you and you pull away from Sylus to acknowledge the shadow that has descended upon you. Sylus groans and drops his head onto your shoulder. 

A damp Luke falls to his knees before you like a knight. He spares the little ones a loving glance before he addresses you, unable to hide the misery from his voice. 

“Kieran said I had to come here.” he grumbles, flicking his glasses off. Behind him, his twin seems to taunt him with wild roars of the speeding  jet ski as revenge. “Where’s the sunscreen?”

You watch him as he applies it haphazardly, slapping it on like war paint. Globs of white in the edges of his hairline and on his brows. “How’s it look?”

You have the decency to lie. “Fine.”

Sylus does not. “Like a clown.”

Luke scowls at him, and Sylus scowls back. He won’t let go of him interrupting you two so easily.

“Why doesn’t Kieran’s have the… the white streaky stuff?” he pouts, violently rubbing the cream onto his face like a wash rather than a cream. 

You wince, catching his wrists. “Because I put it on for him.”

He pauses. Rolls the thought in his head like a pearl for a little while, and then hands the bottle to you. “Can you?” 

“Of course,” you say and try to salvage his attempt. 

Unlike his brother, Luke talks more than he likes to think. “Did Kieran act weird about this too?” 

“I think so,” you say thoughtfully, remembering the perplexing look on this same-but-different face minutes ago. You tried not to let it get to you. 

“Mm…” Luke hums, otherwise perfectly still. You’re not sure if he thinks when he blurts, “We never had a mother.” 

As one does with the information, your fingers turn frostbitten underneath the heat of the sun. He catches on quickly to your response, eyes widening to a worrying size as he taps your knee. “Wait, sorry—I’m not finished.”

So you give him the opportunity to explain himself as you contain the sob that waits just below your heart to emerge.

“No one’s really done this kind of… thing with us.” he says. Shapes are drawn in the sand, beyond the blanket that currently contained all of you. “If there was, neither of us remember. Wiped or just simply forgotten, I don’t care.”

Lucian wanders over now, quietly, barely a whisper in the heavy tension between you two and sits in the nest of your criss-crossed legs. He doesn’t even react when you squish his face with the excess sunscreen on your hands aside from a yelp. 

Luke watches fondly. “Never thought we’d experience it, so we didn’t need it. But now…” 

“Mama…” Lucian whines now, layers of sunscreen on his cheeks and forehead. Kyros crawls onto your lap as well, squeezing himself beside Lucian as if to tune in and perhaps share the moment as well. He also gets excess sunscreen. 

Luke smiles at you, at them. His eyes shift briefly to Sylus who listens too, and to his brother in the distance.

“It’s nice, you know.” he admits, catching a stray glob of white off of the tip of Lucian’s hair. “Having someone to watch out for us, taking care of us. Having you.”

Your breath catches. 

“So thank you,” he nods, shy suddenly, after it all. He looks down, clears his throat, and throws his shades back on over his eyes. “For taking us in… me and my brother.” 

You don’t have the good graces in you to allow him dignity in the face of embarrassment when you lean over and hug him. Steady, strong. It takes a while for his wet sleeves to wrap around you, but when they do, he is loath to let go. 

And like a tidal wave, you are nearly knocked over by another force crashing into you. Showering you all in droplets and sand, the littles giggle in their little canopy as Kieran joins the hug. To his brother, he grunts, “Move!” 

And it makes you laugh. They make you laugh. Your boys, your sons. Scrambling over one another to secure a space within your bubble that now you do not mind sharing. 

Overturning the lies you have believed. Being antidotes to the poison you have swallowed all those weeks you have been away. Clearing the tunnel, being the light that shines at the end of it after guiding you through. 

Sylus places a hand on your shoulder. He catches your eye and gives you a warm smile. 

With your heart bursting, you start to believe that Onychinus does value family. 

In fact, they have become it.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The sun shines for no one else this day but you. 

Tomorrow, you will worry about sunburns and sandy ears. Maybe a little will start sneezing, or a big will be washing their hair for the third time and still be complaining about sand. Mephisto might even have water damage the way he’s dipping in and out of the waves the way he is.

But, tomorrow will worry of itself.

For now—

“Lucian, watch out!” You yell as a wave comes for him and his papa. He’s screaming, a delightful pitch, and wiggling happily as he dangles by the armpits. 

Sylus raises him up high as the wave breaks against his back. Soon he’s signing more and screaming “Again!” 

You cannot move. Buckets of sand dumped over your legs, the weight of it is enough to immobilize. Luke and Kieran are running back and forth from the water to harden the dust like concrete. Kyros stays by your waist and presses shells into your forming tail. 

“Many, mama?” he asks you. You turn away from your book to his sand covered cheeks and his shade-stained eyes. 

“That’s eleven now, sweetie.”

“Elele.” he pokes more shells into the sand. “Want more?”

“Yes please, baby.”

He huffs, determined, gives you an, “ah-key!” and scuttles away to the bucket Kieran had filled with shells. 

Lucian is shouting, “Kee-ro, come, come!” 

Kyros is an obedient brother, waddle-jogging belly first towards the shoreline where Sylus awaits, sat in the sand. 

“This way, angel.” Kyros is planted to his right. 

His feet are buried in the sand, like Lucian’s are to his left. Sylus’s arms brace on their backs and the water disperses in a loud hiss, knocking into their bellies and chests with enough force to knock them back.

“Kee-ro, hads up!” Lucian models, raising his arms in the air just as another onslaught crashes into them like a gentle flood of foam. Kyros has never been louder, giggling, screaming as if tickled. 

You’re recording from behind when a wave disperses a little too close and eats them up in the impact. They are uprooted and scattered. 

You gasp.

When it recedes, Sylus is rolling back with the sea with two wet little toddlers hanging onto his arms.

You rush to them. Finding two blinking babies absolutely dumbfounded by what just happened. 

Sylus worries if they’re shaken or even afraid now. Kyros puts that all to rest when his tongue curls to a cough that morphs into what you’d imagine to be the laughter of an angelfish. Hiccuping, bubbling. “Again! Again!”

“Papa!” Lucian rejoices too, loud. Needing to be to make sure he is heard. “Again!”

Sylus sighs. Relief cancels out worry. He’s only glad that you accept his apologetic look with a fondness, rolling your eyes and pushing him back to the tide. This time, you sit with them. 

The sun sets on your day. Bidding goodbye with the gentlest parade of golden hues, mixing to a moody purple and then cooling to a speckled blue.

Slow.

Slow enough to usher the cold of the tide, chilling the children’s toes enough that they ask to go home. Slow enough that the moon shines bright only when you stand in the balcony, a warm drink in your hand and a blanket over your shoulders. 

Slow enough to allow this of you. This reflection of what has been and what will be. This respite of having endured and having released. This quiet you do not take for granted.

One you hold like a vice, and yet like a fluttering dove; like the heart of a child, and like how your husband holds you.

He holds you. The weight of him resting on your shoulders—the only weight you will never mind— the warmth of him against the length of your back, the comfort of him settling like wax in your bones.

“… Valentine’s Day.”

“Huh?”

He kisses the crown of your head, your cheek, your neck. “I said, just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

This time you hear him. This time, you turn and smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day, beloved.”

His eyes—glowing like burning coal, a dragon’s breath, a lover’s devotion—twinkle ever so brightly beneath the star-spackled sky. Where he’d say each light is a life he’d live, a life he’d choose with you.

He leans in to kiss you, having missed you so. You kiss him too, having missed him more than he’ll the ever understand.

This time, when lips part, it is not a goodbye.

This time, you have nowhere else to be.

This time, you stay. 

✧˚ ⋆｡ read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

thank you so much for reading! ( っ´ `)っ

[xodatura]

psst :0 here's a preview of my next sylus drabble :3 if u wanna wait for the final product feel free to scroll along! special mention to @z41x5 for the really cute sylus fluff prompt they gave me!

"sylus, would you be able to bring in the rest of-"

before you could even finish, sylus stumbles into his apartment with the rest of your bags from your shopping date. you were too busy fantasising about how the both of you will spend the rest of the day with what you bought for him, and he hasn't got a clue in the world.

you giggle as you see him struggle for the first time, not from a deal gone wrong or a surprise attack, but from products threatening to spill over bags that weren't so durable.

"i've got them all, sweetie. though i must say, it's nice to see a kitten bare it's claws at a warehouse sale as opposed to a sly remark."

you pout in response, earning a hearty chuckle from sylus as he makes his way to the dining table to carefully put down the bags. his ruby eyes widened for a fraction, only to soften once more when he registered you coming up behind him to take off his coat.

sylus lifts his arms to just below his chest, a habit he eventually learned so that it was easier for you to wrap his arms around him, to easily shrug off his coat just now, to find comfort in his presence on days that were difficult to get through.

two of out three of these scenarios may indulge you more. if anything, sylus revelled in these acts of kindness after being lifetimes apart; when the tether of fate between you felt especially loose on nights he wanted you to finally return his longing gaze, moments like these could make him wait forever if he had to.

i physically can't write fluff without adding a hint of angst i'm sorry (not really) but i'm very excited about this MWAHAHA

[pzxce]

more sylusmc yuri

[rokunoy]

just doodles

[byallmeans1]

[xodatura]

psst :0 here's a preview of my next sylus drabble :3 if u wanna wait for the final product feel free to scroll along! special mention to @z41x5 for the really cute sylus fluff prompt they gave me!

"sylus, would you be able to bring in the rest of-"

before you could even finish, sylus stumbles into his apartment with the rest of your bags from your shopping date. you were too busy fantasising about how the both of you will spend the rest of the day with what you bought for him, and he hasn't got a clue in the world.

you giggle as you see him struggle for the first time, not from a deal gone wrong or a surprise attack, but from products threatening to spill over bags that weren't so durable.

"i've got them all, sweetie. though i must say, it's nice to see a kitten bare it's claws at a warehouse sale as opposed to a sly remark."

you pout in response, earning a hearty chuckle from sylus as he makes his way to the dining table to carefully put down the bags. his ruby eyes widened for a fraction, only to soften once more when he registered you coming up behind him to take off his coat.

sylus lifts his arms to just below his chest, a habit he eventually learned so that it was easier for you to wrap his arms around him, to easily shrug off his coat just now, to find comfort in his presence on days that were difficult to get through.

two of out three of these scenarios may indulge you more. if anything, sylus revelled in these acts of kindness after being lifetimes apart; when the tether of fate between you felt especially loose on nights he wanted you to finally return his longing gaze, moments like these could make him wait forever if he had to.

i physically can't write fluff without adding a hint of angst i'm sorry (not really) but i'm very excited about this MWAHAHA

[yailuxe]

MRS OFFICER

18+ Sylus x policeofficer!reader

Content warnings: fem!reader, sexually explicit content, porn and a sprinkle of plot, bondage by handcuffs (for sylus), car sex, mentions of guns and death threats.

WC: 3.6K

You were no stranger to hard work. 

And as a woman working in a male-dominated field, you didn’t have much of a choice. While male officers were awarded for their mediocre performance, you often did twice the work and got half the recognition, if any at all. It was a tedious cycle to be stuck in, one that had you thinking about quitting more often than you’d ever admit to anyone, but you never saw it through. You had always been one to lend a helping hand, yet the reason you stayed at the police department had little to do with your overarching need to protect and serve. 

You stayed because you were stubborn. 

Because the number of dirty cops, double agents and spies struck true fear in you, the sum was so staggering it nearly surpassed that of uncorrupt officers. You never understood how people could go back on the oath they had chosen to take. Nor how they could conspire with criminals even when they harmed the very community they swore to protect.

When you were still starry-eyed, you filed countless reports, but each time you were shut down before you could even finish your sentence. As it turned out, whistleblowing was a thankless job, and instead of bringing justice and transparency to the force, you were labelled uptight, a liar, a bitch or a combination of the three. It was only when you began to receive death threats and found your tyres punctured one too many times that you fell back a step. However, while you quietened and bowed your head in fake submission, you still regarded those officers as the scum of the earth. As traitorous, unprincipled worms that you would eventually mangle under the heavy weight of your boot. 

However, as you lifted your head and met Sylus’s deep crimson stare, his lips pulling into a slow, deliciously beckoning smile, you knew the truth.

You were no different from them. 

“We need to stop meeting like this, sweetie.”

When you got the third anonymous tip of the month about nefarious activity going on downtown, you should have known it was him. Sylus kept pulling shit like this to get your attention, and it was all because of that one night. After a long week, you went out with a couple of friends for drinks at a club that was on the dodgy side of town. While you danced, you felt him watching you, sizing you up, long before you saw him. The heat of his gaze seemed to brush against your skin and left you with a lightheaded buzz that alcohol could never replicate. When he slid in behind you, your friend gave you a less-than-subtle wink and shimmied away, leaving you alone with him. 

Then…well, you prefer not to recount the rest of the night in detail.  

The morning of, you had told Sylus that you were too drunk to remember anything, but the truth was, not only had you been stone cold sober that night, but you were terribly embarrassed. The image of you unabashedly backing your ass into him on the dance floor, then doing it again in his bed hours later, still made you wince. Sylus, unfortunately, didn’t share the sentiment. He had been hounding you for the last few months, asking for a ‘do over’ in that aggravatingly sexy voice of his. 

You thought he would be mortified, the same way you were, when he found out the two of you were at opposite ends of the law, but if anything, it was like finding out you were a policewoman made him want you more.

Admittedly, you should have been more upset that he kept calling in fake reports to get your attention; he was wasting your time and the force’s resources after all, but something was thrilling about his determination when it came to you. It sent a frenzied flurry of butterflies in your belly, and you crossed your arms as if that would still them.  

“And whose fault is that, Sylus?” You arched an accusing brow at him, to which he only shrugged.

“If you answered my calls, there'd be no need for theatrics.” He stood up from his chair and started walking towards you, hands held out and wrists exposed in mock surrender. “Yet, here we are.”

You rolled your eyes at him and closed the distance in a few steps. 

“What’s the point of having me arrest you if you’re just gonna have Luke and Kieran bail you out?” You muttered that half to him but mostly to yourself as you reached to your side for handcuffs. “It’s like you get off to being in jail for a couple of hours or something.”

“Actually, I get off to the face you make when you put those cuffs on me.” Your face heated as if it had been set alight, and you circled a hand around his wrist, while he chuckled in delight, obviously seeing that his words affected you. 

“Shut up.” You snapped, and his shoulders shook even more. You tightened your hold on his wrist, then rounded on him, going to his back and pulling his arm at an odd angle as you clicked the first cuff into place. You smiled when his laughter cut off into a pain-filled groan and secured his other wrist too. You tightened the handcuffs until they were snug, then, for extra measure, and for payback because he always had a way of getting under your skin, you tightened them even more, until just one click remained before it would cut off his circulation.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will—“ A long, exasperated sigh interrupted you, and you narrowed your eyes at the back of his head. “I’m sorry, am I boring you?”

“No,” Sylus tilted his head back to look at you. “It’s just that last time was so much better, don’t you think? You threw me against a wall and everything. It was so hot.” 

There was a nostalgic lilt to his voice as he recalled his arrest two weeks prior, and it was enough for you to forgo reading him his rights as you pushed him out of the building and towards the patrol car. It was quiet for all of 30 seconds before Sylus spoke up again, “A little birdie told me you’re working the Amadeo case.”

You faltered. 

You remembered the day you had gotten the file so vividly that you could practically feel all the blood drain from your face again. Amadeo was an arms dealer who had been at large for longer than you could remember. He distributed to everyone, from the petty thief who used guns to intimidate shopkeepers to longstanding, transgenerational crime organisations. Rumours went around that he was the best there ever was at evading the authorities, even better than Sylus, but you knew the truth. 

Corrupt cops were a dime a dozen, and Amadeo had a good handful at his disposal. And because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, those rats were after you. They assigned you this dead-end case on purpose, so they could sit back and watch you fail. 

Just as many had before you. 

“I’m guessing you’re not talking about Mephisto?” You asked after you found your footing again. As always, Sylus was practically walking himself to the van, and you barely had to use a modicum of force.

“I’m afraid not, sweetie. But for you to be given a case that hasn’t been cracked in the last 20 years and all without a partner to help you?” He glanced over his shoulder, but you averted your eyes. He always read you too well. “I’m starting to think the boys in blue don’t like you very much.”

You bared your teeth and shoved at his shoulder to urge him to walk to the car faster. “So what?” Sylus barely moved at the push, and you tried to ignore the bruise that was delivered to your ego. 

“So…I could help you.” You scoffed out a laugh before he even finished talking.

“I don’t need your help.” You informed him as you finally made it to the car. You unlocked it and moved him towards the backseat.

“You’re probably right.” Sylus hummed lowly as your hand touched the door handle. “I bet the fact that he bought a new warehouse is old news to you.” 

You stopped and like a bloodhound, Sylus caught the scent of your moment of weakness when he added, “You did know that, right?”

He knew you didn’t have any intel. Not only because of other officers' subtlety and outwardly sabotaging the investigation, but also because all information in relation to Amadeo was airtight. No one wanted their weapons supplier behind bars, so they cleaned up after him and doused everything in bleach for good measure.

But it seemed Sylus had something. 

It could have been a morsel of intel, but it didn’t stop you from salivating at the thought. Having something, having anything, would be better than what you had now, which was fuck all. 

You looked up at him when he bowed his head, a beastly glimmer reflected in his eyes as he saw that he was slowly reeling you in. “I could be persuaded to share the warehouse’s location.”

“And what would persuade you, I wonder?” 

You asked with your eyes narrowed to slits, and he tipped his head. You let go of him as he turned around to face you. It wasn’t fair that with his hands bound behind his back, and standing at his full height, his shoulders seemed broader than usual. The fabric of his button-up shirt stretched until it grew taut over his chest, muscles slightly bulging underneath. When you realised you were staring at his pecs for a little too long, your eyes flickered up to his face again. A canine glinted as he smiled, and you knew you had been caught. He resembled a viper, poised and lying in wait for you to give in. Then he would latch on and smother you into sweet abyss. 

“I’m a fair man, sweetheart. It wouldn’t be anything you haven’t already given me.” Sylus replied as his eyes roved over your form, and you allowed it, just this once, because you had been ogling him a few seconds before. A hungry look flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t imagine why. You were wearing your police uniform, and it was hardly the most flattering outfit you owned. That didn’t seem to matter to him, though. His eyes met yours once he finished following the length of your body, and what he was implying was obvious. 

“I’m on the clock.”

Even as the words left your mouth, you wanted to kick yourself. You were supposed to say no. Because you were not going to sleep with him just to get information. You gave yourself a pass for having sex with him before you knew who he was, when you had moaned his name into the quiet of his room, wondering why it sounded so familiar but too enraptured to think clearly. Now, however, you had no excuse. You knew that if you gave in to his offer, you would be no better than those corrupt officers who aligned with criminals. 

But god, did you want to.

Sylus pursed his lips in thought and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Then, as if a gear clicked into place, he perked up and glanced over his shoulder, right at the patrol car that was assigned to you. You followed his gaze, and your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when you caught on. 

“No.” You deadpanned. 

No. Never. There was absolutely no way on this great green earth that you were going to have car sex with a criminal. 

***

Oh, who were you kidding? You were a hundred percent having car sex with him. 

The two of you shared a long look before you tipped your chin up a little defiantly and pulled the door open, “The cuffs are staying on.” You said half-conceding, half-hopeful he would be the one to go back on his word because you certainly weren’t thinking clearly enough to stop. 

But the two of you never made things easy for each other, so he ducked into the car with a grin, barely missing a step as he murmured, “I really hope that wasn’t meant to dissuade me, sweetheart.”

You climbed into the car after him, and because his large frame took over most of the space, you immediately found yourself propped on his lap. Sylus’s hands stayed bound, now trapped between the car seat and the base of his back, while yours traced over the firm expanse of his muscular chest. 

“Ten minutes.” You said as you felt his shiver under your palms. Sylus nodded, his breath hitching when your thumb grazed over his nipple through the fabric of his shirt. 

“Hm, I can work with that.”

Sylus swallowed his words after you removed your clothes in a flurry of movement. You threw your pants and dress shirt behind you, and they landed on the passenger seat. You knew that you looked awkward as you shifted to roll your panties down your legs, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. They greedily ate away at every inch of skin they landed on, as if he was trying his best to get his fill but still came up short. 

His chest vibrated with a grumble when he realised you weren’t taking your bra off, a sound he quickly bit back when your hands went to his belt, unbuckling it, then lowering his zipper. Sylus lifted his hips, and you huffed as you pushed his pants down until they were just past his knees. How did people enjoy having sex in such a closed space? Getting undressed was a whole workout by itself. 

You ignored how his cock smacked against his lower abdomen as you focused on unbuttoning his shirt; you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you gawk at it, no matter how much you wanted to. You pushed the button-up just over his shoulders, not bothering to take it off completely, not that you would have been able to with handcuffs still on. You moved forward, repositioning yourself again, and Sylus shifted under you, spreading his legs a little wider. He looked so smug as you hovered over him. Too smug. And you wanted to wipe the look clean off his face. So you brought your knee down to rest in the area between his legs and positioned the other at his hip, straddling his thigh instead.

Sylus groaned, in equal parts arousal and frustration, as the silky softness of your pussy settled on his thigh. “My god…you’re a cruel woman.” He threw his head back when wetness dribbled onto his thigh, and you couldn’t help but giggle, hips already rocking against him.

“Mhm, but you like me this way, don’t you, Sy?” You murmured as you ground down onto him, moaning at the sweet drag of your clit against his skin.

“I love you this way.” Sylus jerked his leg up and pressed the thickness of his meaty thigh harder against your pussy. It was the statement, more than the action, that made your breath hitch, but you knew he didn’t mean it that way. You were probably reading into it too much, and if you had time to overthink right now, then you were doing something wrong. 

So you finally allowed yourself to look down at his cock, taking in the reddened flush of the length and the precum welling at his tip. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you looked down at him, and as if drawn in by an invisible force, you wrapped a hand around him. The touch elicited a soft sound from him. Something between a moan and a whimper and so unlike the usual gravel of his voice that a fresh gush of heat coated his thigh involuntarily.

Your thumb passed over his tip, smearing his precum over it, and he hissed out a sharp breath. “Oh…shit. Just like that, baby.” 

Your hand bopped up and down the thickness of his cock, and you were rutting against him, feeling yourself on the brink in a matter of seconds.

You loved how vocal he was. 

“You’re gonna make me cum.” He said, voice strained against the column of your neck. 

“I’m fuck—” Your voice broke off as you beat him to it, mewling with your release and feeling his cock twitch in your hand. Once, twice, then you readjusted. With your cunt still quivering from cumming, you straddled him, bearing down on his cock so suddenly that he choked.

You had slipped him inside you, just barely past the crown of his tip, when he came. Sylus’s cum pulsed into you and spilt down to the base of his cock, tricking onto the light dusting of hair there as he buried his face into your neck. “F-Fuck. Too good.” 

Your hand clutched hard at the leather seat as you sank all the way down. You took him in with a harsh exhale, and overstimulation had both of you delirious. Your head canted back when he thrust his hips upwards, smashing against a spot that had you seeing white. His name was a hushed prayer on your lips, and he grunted into your ear in response. 

“Take your bra off.” The command was met with a laugh, and he whined. “Please, baby, wanna see you.”

You pulled back to look down at him, and you squeezed around his cock when you saw the light pink tint over his cheeks. To have a man like him flustered and begging under you did irreparable damage to you. It corrupted you. 

“Please.” He implored when you didn’t respond fast enough, hips shuttering for a moment before meeting your thighs with a loud slap. “I’ll do anything.” 

Now that was more like it. 

“Anything?” You grazed your nose against his, and he nodded earnestly. You hummed, as if you were actually considering his question, but you already knew what you wanted. “Tell me where the new warehouse is.”

Sylus rattled out the location so quickly that it sent goosebumps all over your body. You weren’t sure why, but the ease with which he said it made you believe that he would have given it to you even without his earlier proposition. 

“And you wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?” Sylus groaned in anguish at the question and buried his face between your tits like he hoped they would engulf him and pull him under the intoxicating undercurrent that was you. 

“Never.” He was shaking now. Massive thighs trembling under yours. “Never.”

Sylus’s teeth snagged into the lace of your bra and pulled before he lightly bit into the curve of your supple breast. His wrists strained against the weak confines of the metal cuffs. You meant to give in to his request, but the sight of his head against you while he groaned into you, snowy hair growing damp as he scraped his teeth over your skin, was enough to make you lose your bearings. Belatedly, you heard a soft click, and by the time you registered that it was the mechanism of the handcuffs unlocking, it was too late. 

Thick arms banded around you, and you squealed as he squashed you against him and frantically thrust up into you. “Hah…fuck. There it is.” He intoned and had you gasping out in shock when he manoeuvred your body as if you were as light as a feather.

Your back met the cool leather of the car seat, and you barely had time to blink before his body covered yours again. Sylus didn’t bother holding himself up; he bore all his weight into you, and his hand closed around the material of your bra.

‘Riiiiiiiippppp’

Your eyes widened at the sound, at the sight of the tattered undergarment being thrown to the side, and you were more than ready to tear him a new one. But then he inclined his head, sinful lips latching onto your nipple with a ferocity that had your back bowing. 

“Mmph! Sylus, slow down—” It was like your words only egged him on. His hand went to the back of your thigh, just above your knee, and he raised your leg, so high the stretch made you hiss. 

“Ten minutes are up.” He said after popping your tit out of his mouth. His harsh breath cooled over the bud, at complete odds with the heat his mouth offered when he sucked it. The change in sensation had it hardening, and you moaned incoherently. “Cum on my cock.”

The command was whispered so darkly, as if it came from the deepest, hottest pits of hell, then the heel of his palm kneaded over your clit, and your body convulsed. You had a moment of panic when, instead of moaning out your release, your breath caught. The sound you made was a something of a soundless broken sob, and it made Sylus’s hips smack against you faster.

Harder.

Until he spilt into you and moaned long and loud when your pussy squeezed him through it, milking him dry. You were shaking even long after your release, and as your soul dizzily settled back into your body, your muscles became limp. 

Sylus lifted himself onto his elbows so he didn’t accidentally smother you and lowered his gaze to yours. Your eyebrows pinched when your eyes met, and that familiar buzzy flutter in your belly returned.

Butterflies.

“Oh, I am so losing my job.”

Sylus laughed at your whine, and you hated how good it sounded. How good he felt. 

“Then you can come join me. There’s always space open for you.”

Yeah right. 

A/N: Wasn’t feeling this one as much but I hope you liked it. Editing cred to @rambld come gimme a kiss mama.

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