#Do My C++ homework help

[rose-lalondde]

pro tip: if you think you have adhd then don't start a master's program before you even get a diagnosis (also you need a stronger prescription, you have astigmatism, and reading glasses aren't gonna cut it)

[lesbian-thespian-paladin]

anyone else so so afraid all the time for no reason? Just me?

[yourlocalsonia2]

Tbh I would have such a better time in school if I wasn't forced to take a spanish class that erased my study period (i used to be a A's and B student but now I have 3 c's, 2 b's and only 1 A)

[unnonexistence]

not sure how to convince my brain that reading math papers is fun and not scary

[emmajacob03]

How to Balance Part-Time Jobs and Homework in College

College life is a unique experience. It’s a time of learning, growth, and self-discovery. But for many students, it’s also a time of juggling responsibilities.

But why do students take on part-time jobs in the first place? The reasons vary. Some students work to support themselves financially. Others seek to gain work experience.

Regardless of the reason, balancing work and study is a reality for many. In this comprehensive guide, we aim to help you navigate this challenge. We’ll explore practical strategies and tips to manage your time and responsibilities effectively.

Whether you’re already working part-time or considering it, this guide is for you. Our goal is to help you maintain a healthy balance between work, academics, and personal life.

So, let’s dive in and learn how to balance part-time jobs and homework in college.

Understanding the Challenge

Balancing part-time jobs and homework in college is a complex task. It’s not just about dividing your time between work and study.

It’s about managing multiple responsibilities. It’s about meeting deadlines, fulfilling job duties, and maintaining academic performance.

At the same time, it’s about ensuring you have time for yourself. Time for rest, relaxation, and social activities.

The challenge lies in finding the right balance. It’s about making sure one aspect of your life doesn’t overshadow the others.

Understanding this challenge is the first step towards effectively managing your part-time job and homework in college.

The Benefits of Part-Time Work in College

Having a part-time job in college can be a rewarding experience. It’s not just about earning money, although that’s a significant benefit.

Part-time work offers a chance to gain real-world experience. It provides an opportunity to apply what you’re learning in your classes.

It can also help you develop essential skills. Skills like time management, communication, and problem-solving. These are skills that employers value.

Working part-time can also help you build your professional network. You get to meet people who can provide guidance and opportunities in your chosen field.

Here are some key benefits of part-time work in college:

Financial independence: Earning your own money can help reduce reliance on student loans and parental support.

Work experience: Gaining practical experience in your field of study can enhance your resume.

Skill development: You can develop and refine skills that are not only relevant to your current job but also your future career.

Networking: Meeting professionals in your field can open doors to future job opportunities.

Time management: Juggling work and study can help you become more organized and efficient.

Career exploration: A part-time job can give you a taste of a particular career, helping you decide if it’s the right path for you.

Personal growth: Working while studying can boost your confidence, resilience, and independence.

Remember, the goal is not just to work, but to work smart. It’s about making the most of your part-time job to benefit your college experience and future career.

Time Management: The Core of Balancing Work and Study

Time management is the key to balancing part-time jobs and homework in college. It’s about making the most of the time you have.

You need to be able to juggle your work schedule, classes, study time, and personal life. It’s not easy, but it’s doable with the right strategies.

The first step is to understand your responsibilities. Know what you need to do for your job and your classes.

Then, you need to prioritize. Decide what tasks are most important and need to be done first.

Finally, you need to create a schedule. This will help you stay organized and on track.

Prioritizing Your Responsibilities

Prioritizing is about deciding what tasks are most important. It’s about focusing on what matters most.

This can be challenging when you have a lot on your plate. But it’s essential for effective time management.

You need to consider the deadlines and the impact of each task. Tasks with closer deadlines and higher impact should be prioritized.

Remember, it’s not about doing everything. It’s about doing what’s most important first.

Creating a Weekly Schedule

A weekly schedule can help you stay organized. It gives you a clear overview of your week.

You can see when you have classes, work shifts, and study time. You can also see when you have free time.

Here are some tips for creating a weekly schedule:

Include all your responsibilities: classes, work shifts, study time, and personal activities.

Be realistic: Don’t overbook yourself. Make sure to include breaks and downtime.

Be flexible: Things can change, so be ready to adjust your schedule as needed.

Review and update: At the end of each week, review your schedule. Make adjustments for the next week based on what worked and what didn’t.

A well-planned schedule can help you stay on top of your responsibilities. It can reduce stress and increase productivity.

Utilizing Time Management Tools

There are many tools that can help with time management. These include calendars, to-do lists, and time tracking apps.

A calendar can help you see your schedule at a glance. You can see when you’re busy and when you’re free.

A to-do list can help you stay organized. You can list all the tasks you need to do and check them off as you complete them.

Time tracking apps can help you see where your time is going. You can see how much time you’re spending on different tasks.

These tools can help you manage your time more effectively. They can help you stay organized and on track.

Strategies for Effective Study Habits

Effective study habits are crucial for academic success. They can help you understand and retain information better.

One strategy is to break your study sessions into manageable chunks. This is known as the Pomodoro Technique.

You study for a set amount of time, say 25 minutes, then take a short break. After four sessions, take a longer break.

This can help prevent burnout and keep your mind fresh. It can also make large tasks seem less daunting.

Another strategy is to use active learning techniques. These can help you engage with the material and understand it on a deeper level.

Active Learning Techniques

Active learning involves actively engaging with the material. It’s not just about reading or listening, but about doing.

One technique is to teach the material to someone else. This can help you understand it better and remember it longer.

Another technique is to use flashcards. They can help you memorize facts or concepts.

You can also use mind maps to visualize the material. This can help you see the connections between different ideas.

These techniques can make studying more effective and enjoyable. They can help you understand and remember the material better.

Study Spaces and Environment

Your study environment can have a big impact on your productivity. It’s important to find a space that helps you focus.

This could be a quiet corner of the library, a coffee shop, or your own room. The key is to find a place where you can concentrate.

Make sure your study space is comfortable and well-lit. A good chair and desk can make a big difference.

Also, try to keep your study space clean and organized. Clutter can be distracting and stressful.

A good study environment can help you focus and be more productive. It can make studying more enjoyable and less stressful.

Finding the Right Part-Time Job

Finding the right part-time job is crucial for balancing work and study. The job should align with your academic schedule and not hinder your studies.

Consider jobs that offer flexible hours. This can help you manage your time effectively.

Also, consider the location of the job. A job close to your campus can save commuting time.

The job should also align with your career goals. This can provide valuable experience for your future career.

Lastly, consider the workload of the job. It should not be so demanding that it affects your academic performance.

Flexible Jobs for Students

Flexible jobs can be a great option for students. They allow you to adjust your work hours according to your academic schedule.

Some examples of flexible jobs include tutoring, freelance work, and online jobs. These jobs often allow you to choose your own hours.

Another option is shift work. This can allow you to work during off-peak hours when you’re not in class.

Flexible jobs can help you balance work and study effectively. They can provide you with the flexibility you need to manage your time.

On-Campus vs. Off-Campus Jobs

On-campus jobs can be a great option for students. They are often flexible and align with the academic schedule.

These jobs can also save commuting time. They can also provide opportunities to connect with faculty and staff.

Off-campus jobs, on the other hand, can offer more variety and potentially higher pay. They can also provide experience in the real world.

However, off-campus jobs may require more commuting time. They may also have less flexibility in terms of hours.

Both on-campus and off-campus jobs have their pros and cons. It’s important to consider your needs and circumstances when choosing a job.

Communication is Key

Effective communication is vital in balancing work and study. It helps manage expectations and prevent conflicts.

It’s important to be open and honest about your commitments. This can help you negotiate your work and study schedules.

Remember, your employer and professors are there to support you. They can provide guidance and flexibility if they understand your situation.

So, don’t hesitate to communicate your needs. It can make a big difference in managing your responsibilities.

With Your Employer

Communicating with your employer is crucial. It’s important to discuss your academic commitments upfront.

Let them know about your class schedule and study requirements. This can help them understand your availability.

If you have exams or important https://assignmentdude.com/programming assignments, inform your employer in advance. They may be able to adjust your work schedule accordingly.

Remember, a good employer will value your education. They should be willing to provide flexibility when needed.

With Your Professors

Communication with your professors is equally important. They can provide support and flexibility in your academic work.

Inform them about your work commitments. They may be able to provide extensions or alternative assignment options.

If you’re struggling with your workload, don’t hesitate to reach out. Professors can provide advice and resources to help you manage.

Remember, your professors want you to succeed. They can be a valuable resource in balancing work and study.

Maintaining Your Health and Well-being

Balancing work and study can be stressful. It’s crucial to take care of your health and well-being.

Your physical and mental health directly impact your productivity. Neglecting them can lead to burnout and decreased performance.

Ensure you’re getting enough sleep, eating well, and exercising regularly. These are key to maintaining your energy levels.

Also, make time for relaxation and hobbies. They can help you unwind and reduce stress.

Remember, your health is your most important asset. Prioritize it above all else.

The Importance of Sleep and Nutrition

Sleep and nutrition are fundamental to your health. They directly impact your energy levels and cognitive function.

Ensure you’re getting enough sleep each night. Lack of sleep can lead to decreased concentration and poor academic performance.

Your diet also plays a crucial role. Eating a balanced diet can provide the energy you need to manage your responsibilities.

Avoid relying on junk food or energy drinks. They can lead to energy crashes and health problems in the long run.

Exercise and Stress Management

Regular exercise is vital for your physical and mental health. It can boost your energy levels and improve your mood.

Try to incorporate some form of exercise into your daily routine. It could be a quick workout, a walk, or even yoga.

Managing stress is also crucial. Find healthy ways to cope with stress, such as meditation or deep breathing exercises.

Remember, it’s okay to take breaks when you need them. They can help you recharge and maintain your productivity.

Leveraging Campus Resources

Your college campus is a treasure trove of resources. These can help you balance your part-time job and homework.

From academic support services to career and counseling centers, these resources are there to assist you. They can provide valuable guidance and support.

Don’t hesitate to use these resources. They are included in your tuition and are there to help you succeed.

Remember, seeking help is not a sign of weakness. It’s a smart strategy for managing your responsibilities.

Academic Support Services

Academic support services can be a lifesaver. They offer a range of services to help you with your studies.

These may include tutoring services, study groups, and workshops. They can help you understand difficult concepts and improve your study skills.

Some services also offer help with writing assignments. They can provide feedback and help you improve your writing skills.

Make the most of these services. They can help you manage your academic workload more effectively.

Career and Counseling Centers

Career and counseling centers are another valuable resource. They offer a range of services to support your career development and mental health.

Career centers can help you find part-time jobs that fit your schedule. They can also provide advice on resume writing and interview skills.

Counseling centers offer mental health support. They can provide strategies for managing stress and balancing your responsibilities.

Don’t hesitate to seek their help. They can provide valuable support and guidance.

Balancing Social Life and Networking

Balancing a part-time job and homework doesn’t mean you have to give up your social life. In fact, socializing and networking are crucial aspects of your college experience.

Networking can open doors to job opportunities and internships. It can also help you build relationships with people in your field of study.

However, it’s important to strike a balance. You don’t want your social life to interfere with your job or studies.

Plan your social activities wisely. Prioritize events that offer networking opportunities. And remember, it’s okay to say no sometimes. Your friends will understand if you need to focus on your job or studies.

Adjusting Your Approach When Necessary

Balancing part-time jobs and homework in college is not a one-size-fits-all process. What works for one student may not work for another. It’s important to be flexible and willing to adjust your approach when necessary.

If you find that your current strategy isn’t working, don’t be afraid to make changes. Maybe you need to shift your work hours, or find a different study method. It’s all about finding what works best for you.

Remember, it’s okay to ask for help. Reach out to your professors, advisors, or fellow students if you’re struggling. They can provide advice and resources to help you succeed.

Ultimately, the goal is to find a balance that allows you to excel in both your job and your studies. It may take some trial and error, but with perseverance, you can find the right balance.

Conclusion: Finding Your Balance

Balancing part-time jobs and homework in college is a challenging task. It requires discipline, organization, and a strong commitment to your goals. But with the right strategies and resources, it’s entirely possible to succeed in both areas.

Remember, the key is to find a balance that works for you and choosing AssignmentDude will be a great option for you. This balance may look different for each student, and that’s okay. What’s important is that you’re able to meet your academic and work responsibilities without sacrificing your health or well-being.

Don’t hesitate Submit Your Assignment Now!

Don’t be too hard on yourself if you struggle at times. It’s a learning process, and it’s okay to make mistakes. Use these experiences as opportunities to grow and improve your time management skills.

In the end, the skills and experiences you gain from balancing part-time work and college homework can be incredibly valuable. They can help you in your future career and in managing other aspects of your life. So, embrace the challenge and remember, you’re capable of more than you think.

[bywons]

LET ME BE YOUR HERO ★ spiderman!enha

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬────𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖬𝖩

❪ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝒾𝐒 ❫ ｡ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 1400wc 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗎 ──𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 贅沢 ／ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐄

★REBLOGPLEASE

LEE HEESEUNG

“hey baby,” heeseung’s voice startles you, causing you to almost fall out of your study desk. you whip your head towards the balcony, to see your boyfriend hanging upside down by his spiderwebs.

“what are you doing here?” you hiss, striding towards the balcony. you pull his spider mask down, revealing his charming face which always gave you butterflies. “god forbid a man wants to visit his girl,” he grins lazily, winking at you when he knows this is an ungodly hour to visit you.

his cover could be blown. “my parents are literally in the next room, hee. can you please get out—” “just a kiss,” heeseung pleads, tilting his head with that mischievous smile of his, still dangling upside down like it’s the most casual thing in the world, “just a kiss and i’ll go.”

and you eventually give in, rolling your eyes as you cup his face and lean in for a kiss. heeseung smiles into the kiss, his lips soft and tender against yours, moving in sync as your teeth graze against his top lip. his breath hitches, falling to the threshold of the balcony with a thud.

“are you okay? you’re gonna wake up my parents,” you whimper, looking down at him. but heeseung only chuckles, looking up at you, “sorry, babe. i get nervous around you.”

PARK JONGSEONG

you became famous overnight all around your college when your face hit the news headline— “college girl saved from local monsters by the city's superhero, spiderman.”

“so, how was the experience?” you get startled by the sudden voice beside you, almost dropping the books in your hand. shutting your locker close, you meet the eyes of park jongseong aka jay— leaning against his own locker, wearing one of those oversized hoodies with a cocky grin.

“nothing special,” you shrug, leaning against your locker too as you scoff, “not big of a fan.” “really?” jay scoffs, inching closer until he towers above you easily. his dark hair locks fall gently over his forehead, making your mouth gape.

“you say spiderman is not all that,” he angles his head sideways, cupping your face between his hands— leaning in just enough for his hot breath to fan over your face, “then why were you so clingy to him last night? you sure didn't want to let go, doll.”

you could feel blood rush up to your face, making it flush before jay. you chuckle, whispering, “but how did you know that?” just like that, jay realises he messed up, his spider-suit peeking under his hoodie.

SIM JAEYUN

“—and the correct option is c,” jake pushes his thick rimmed glasses up his nose bridge, “did you get it?”

“yeah, i got it,” you sigh, your attention nowhere but your boyfriend, who’s neck is still damp from swinging around the city, saving people.

“does spiderman help other girls with their homework too?” you sigh, cocking your head to one side. “no?” jake is caught off guard, his eyes widened as he pulls you on his lap, “only you, i promise.”

before you can stop yourself, you grab the collar of his hoodie and pull him in. jakes eyes widen behind his glasses, but he soon eases into the kiss, one hand cups your cheeks as he leans into you. your stomach flips as he giggles into the kiss, caressing your cheeks.

you back just a little, your forehead pressed to his. “does he kiss other girls too?”

jake laughs, his glasses fogged, “only if she’s you.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon quickly pulls you into the janitors closet, banging it shut as he pushes you against the wall. “shut up,” he pleads, all sweaty and out of breathe in his spider-suit, “please just everybody can hear you—”

“i wasn’t even going to say anything,” you lie, gripping onto his biceps as they brace next to your head, bodies too close to each other in the cramped place, “why did you think revealing yourself as spiderman to me was okay?”

sunghoon sighs, he knew that changing into civilian clothes right before college was risky. and of course, out of all people, you happened to see him in the hallways. “just—promise me,” he huffs, leaning in to see your face better in the dark, “you won’t tell anyone, alright?”

“and why do you think i wouldn’t?” you smirk, eyes glinting with mischief as they meet sunghoon’s confused ones.

“seriously?” he hisses, his patience running thin as he grits his teeth, “y/n you better—” “park sunghoon is spi—!”

he doesn’t let you finish the sentence, he leans forward and slams his lips on yours, pulling you into a hurried, angry yet a soft and delicate kiss. he cradles your head with his hand, the other sliding down to your waist. “shut up,” he breathes as he pulls away, chuckling at your flushed face which he loves.

KIM SUNOO

as you’re about to circle around the block towards the alleys to reach your apartment, a fwip sound interrupts you— and suddenly you’re being held up in the air by your waist.

“what the— sunoo?” you almost scream as sunoo only laughs, swinging you onto a building’s rooftop like it’s nothing.

“you almost screamed,” sunoo laughs, pulling up his mask just up to his nose, “you’re so cute.”

“you almost gave me a heart attack,” you complain, smacking his arm playfully as he laughs. “i missed you,” he says, slowly pulling you closer on the rooftop, slow and cool wind caressing you both, “it’s so hard to not see you all the time.”

you giggle in his arms, and sunoo pushes a strand of your hair behind your ears, “can i kiss you?”

“you don’t have to ask,” you finally give him his much needed permission, and sunoo leans in for a kiss amidst the busy night life he secretly watches over.

YANG JUNGWON

you quickly shut the door to your room behind you, facing your boyfriend who’s busy changing into civilian clothes.

“look away!” jungwon blushes as his eyes meet yours. he’s halfway through a plain white shirt, his abdomen exposed.

“what did i tell you about barging into my family gatherings?” you almost shout, slapping jungwon's forearm. “ouch,” jungwon whispers, “but did you see your messages? you told me to save you—”

“not when i said my whole family is here!” you sigh, plopping down flat on your bed and jungwon quickly wears his shirt. before you can say anything, jungwon hovers above you, pressing soft pecks on your lips and neck.

“i need to make sure you're alright,” he smiles in the most gentle way which makes your heart melt, and pull him closer by his collar. “i love you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing it slow.

“i love you more,” you chuckle. “no, i do!” he protests, pulling back to see your face. “no jungwon, you know that i love you more—”

“is somebody there?” a familiar voice floats in from outside your door, probably a relative. “i saw someone in there.” jungwon's face cringes as he looks at your furious one.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki winces as you press a feathery kiss just above the bruise blooming on his cheek. “does it hurt?” you ask.

“not when you're kissing them,” riki teases, pulling you closer on his lap as he wraps his arms around you, “i want you to kiss all my bruises—”

“i told you not to mess with them,” you complain, an irritated pout forming on your face as you caress riki’s cheek. “you’re spiderman, not a fighter, they are stronger than you.”

“you hurt me more, doll,” riki leans into your touch, smirking as he mumbles, “i still took all of them down though.”

“that's not the point riki,” you sigh, retracting your hand from his cheek, at which he winces again, “i don't want you to get hurt all the time.” riki sighs into your palm, using both of them to cup his own face, “you’re so hot when you’re angry,” he snorts, biting his lip.

“can you please stop—” riki doesn't waste a second listening to your lectures as he pulls you in by your wrist, lips clashing into a heated kiss, which slows down eventually. you pull back first, an unsure and strict expression on your face.

“if it means getting hurt everyday because of you,” riki kisses your wrist, “then so be it.”

스루 ܃ for @flwrstqr ! love ya so much, mwah 💌

© bywons, 2025 div ctto —taglist open ! nets. @/k-labels @kflixnet @k-films

[purinfelix]

── .✦ such a mess together - p. sunghoon

summary: the cute little girl you tutor is always going on about how you should date her smart, good-looking older brother, so why is your annoying, cocky classmate opening the door instead of her? ────── academic rival Sunghoon x reader || sfw, tension, can you tell i love the enemies to lovers trope LOL. || w/c: 3.5k (everyone clap jet is finally writing full length fics !!!)

a/n: ok whos shocked yet another enemies to lovers fic from yours truly - but i cant help that this trope is the most fun to write !!!!!!!

Shocked doesn’t even come close to describing how you feel right now. 

You feel as though if you widen your eyes anymore they’ll pop right out of your head, but the thought of him seeing you make such an embarrassing expression forces you to calm yourself. Slowly, he narrows his eyes, clearly not any less confused about this than you are. 

“The hell are you doing at my house?” he spits, thick brows furrowed as he looks you up and down. 

You’re about to reply with something equally as snarky, but you’re interrupted by a small head popping out from underneath his arm - which is outstretched to hold open the front door. 

“You’re here!” Yeji squeals in excitement, ducking past him to throw herself around your waist. You stumble backwards a bit, putting on her head to steady yourself as you laugh softly. 

“Hey,” you breathe out, though your eyes don’t leave those of the man in front of you, whose confusion only grows. “I’m here to tutor her,” you say curtly,  almost in disbelief that you’d have to spell it out for him this much. 

Though it’s not like you’re in much of a position to say much else because, really, you should’ve put the pieces together a long time ago. Being young and uninterested in her studies, Yeji had managed to spend most of your lessons together chatting about her life instead of doing her homework and so you had been told a lot about her - and her mysterious older brother who was rarely around because he was always busy working part-time or studying at university. At the time, you didn’t think twice about the fact that he went to the same university as you or that the times she mentioned him having exams always coincidentally lined up with yours - though now you’re beginning to think maybe you should’ve. 

Details like that were easy to forget though, especially when Yeji paid far more attention to the other details about her brother which she deemed far more important. You had spent many afternoons passively listening to her talk about how smart, sweet and tall he was, how he was “practically a prince” - all the while trying to get her to finish her algebra questions. You had even brushed it off when she mentioned that the two of you would make a good couple, and how it was a shame you had never met before. 

But Yeji couldn’t have been more wrong, because you actually had met her brother, and far more than you would’ve liked to for that matter. In fact, prior to today, Park Sunghoon had been nothing more than a nuisance in your university life. The one to constantly challenge your points in discussions, to steal your perfect front-row seat or to beat you by a singular mark in final exams. In your eyes, he was nothing but a cocky, good-for-nothing know-it-all who had been unfairly blessed with unnatural good looks which he used to trick your poor female classmates into liking him. 

All the details matched up though, times, places, hell they even had the same last name - but it had never occurred to you to put two and two together. Despite this, the shock of the initial realisation pales in comparison to the fact that you now how to continue with your lesson - whilst he sat in the next room over, glaring at you the entire time. 

You shifted in your seat nervously, eyes darting between Yeji’s exercise book and the strict gaze of her brother. Seriously, just what was his problem? - you’d never done anything to seriously wrong him, and if you did, you figured the fact that you were helping out his younger sister would be enough of a reason for him to let down his guard for once. But still, he sat there, completely uninterested in the video game he had loaded up as an obvious excuse, eyes locked on you. 

The weight of his gaze only made you more anxious and when you brought a hand up to hold your pencil you noticed the slight tremble in it. You couldn’t help but feel irritated, not just at him for being so distracting, but also at yourself for letting him get to you so easily. 

“I think he’s looking at you because you’re so pretty,” you heard a small voice mutter beside you catching you off guard. You let out a small laugh, about to calmly tell her to focus on her work but when you raise your eyes to look at her brother in the next room you notice that, for once, he’s avoiding your gaze, clearing his throat out of what almost seems to be nervousness. 

“Nice try Yeji, but I think your brother just doesn’t trust my tutoring skills.” 

She tilts her head, considering this for a moment - then with the same innocent bluntness as before, she shrugs. "Or maybe he's just grumpy because he got dumped."

A deafening silence falls over the room, and your pencil freezes mid-scratch as you glance up just in time to see Sunghoon's entire expression shift. His eyes widen for the briefest moment before his features twist into something between horror and annoyance. "Yeji," he hisses in warning, eyes shooting daggers at his sister, "shut up."

But it's too late, your interest is piqued and despite the harshness in his tone you can't help the smirk tugging at your lips at the thought of finally having some leverage against him.

"Wait," you say, tilting your head as you look at him, "Park Sunghoon ... got dumped?" 

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand across his face. "It wasn't- I didn't-" he stops himself, visibly irritated at the two of you. "That's none of your business."

Yeji, completely unaffected by her brother's obvious distress, hums to herself as she flips a page in her book. "She was really pretty too, she muses, "but she said he was too emotionally unavailable and always busy with school."

You blink in disbelief, then, unable to stop yourself, you laugh. "Shocking," your tone is dripping with sarcasm.

Sunghoon snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as if daring you to continue. "What did you say?"

You press your lips together, feigning innocence, but Sunghoon knows you too well for that and his glare only deepens. And for the first time, instead of just irritating you, the sight of him so obviously affected by your words is a little entertaining.

Interesting you think to yourself as you continue with the lesson, now far too aware of how the tension in the air has shifted ever so slightly. He doesn't move from his spot in the other room, or stop staring at you two, but now whenever you look up at him, instead of being able to meet your gaze he quickly looks away, pretending to be occupied with his game. You can't help but find it just a little amusing. 

Soon your lesson draws to an end and you begin to pack your materials away into your bag, thanking Yeji for working hard and listening to you - though you're interrupted by a deep rumble in the distance, followed by the sound of light rain. By the time you make it to the front door though, it's gotten much heavier and the plans you had to catch the bus home seem bleak. It isn't like you have much choice though, and you pull your hoodie over your head with a defeated sigh.

"You can't walk home in that," Yeji announces dramatically, clinging to your arm as she looks out at the heavy rain. Suddenly she perks up as if met with a great idea, and turns to her brother - who has been pretending not to listen from the living room. "Hoonie, can you drive her?" 

He barely looks up from his phone, though there's a slight delay in his response. "No."

"Why not?" she pouts.

"Not my problem," he mutters.

You roll your eyes, typical you think to yourself as you step towards the door. "It's fine, Yeji, I'll just-"

"You're seriously going to make her walk in this rain?" Yeji cries out as she walks over to her brother on the couch, "What if she gets sick? Then I'll be sad, and when I'm sad I don't do my homework. And if I don't do my homework, I'll fail and when I fail-" 

"Fine," Sunghoon groans, rubbing his temple as he pushes himself off the couch in a swift movement. He walks past you, grabbing his keys and twirling them around his finger coolly. "Get in the car before I change my mind," he says sternly.

You narrow your eyes at him and are about to deny his offer but the rain doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, and you're not stupid enough to reject a free ride out of pride alone. 

"Alright," you sigh, shooting Yeji one last thankful look before following her brother out to his car. 

"You live in the dorms on campus, right?" he asks casually. The rain hits the windshields of his car with a harsh rhythm, filling the silence between you two as you get in. The hum of the engine is the only other sound as he pulls out of the driveway, one slender hand lazily resting on the wheel. 

"Yeah," you say curtly, not even stopping to wonder how he could've known that. You're too busy holding a grudge against his ability to make every move seem so gracefully effortless, even turning a steering wheel. 

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat beside him, eyes fixed straight on the road ahead. You'll admit the car is nicer than you expected - spotless, the faint scent of something clean, a little floral, in the air - but you refuse to acknowledge it, just like you refuse to acknowledge that being here, alone with him, feels weirdly intimate. 

It doesn't help that he hasn't said another word since you both got in, not that you were expecting him to, but still - the awkward silence feels heavier than it should. You steal a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye once the car reaches a red light - only to find that he's already looking at you. 

Your breath hitches for just a second, but you recover quickly in hopes that he won’t notice your reaction. “What?” you huff, raising an unimpressed brow. 

His eyes turn back to the road just as quickly, expression unreadable as the light turns green. “Nothing.” 

You sink back in your seat and the silence resumes, but with its temporary break, you feel compelled to keep up the conversation, even if it means more childish bickering. 

“I hope you don’t expect anything in return for this,” you say, turning to face forward again - but your attention piques once you hear a faint noise from him. It’s something you’ve never heard before, something just quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it over the drumming rain, but you’re glad you did because you swear you just heard Park Sunghoon laugh. 

"When have I ever expected anything from you," he spits, but the usual malice in his tone is tinged with amusement.

"I'm just saying, don't think that just because you're doing this for me that anything's going to change," you huff, "if it weren't for Yeji you probably couldn't care less about me anyways." 

Sunghoon hums, the corners of his lips twitching as if he's holding back another laugh - he doesn't deny it, which somehow annoys you more than if he had outright agreed. Instead, he just shifts gears smoothly, eyes fixed on the road and you hate the way you find your gaze lingering on his profile for just a little too long.

"You sound disappointed," he muses after a beat.

You scoff defensively, crossing your arms. "Yeah, right." You've always hated how easily he could read you.

He just nods ever so slightly and doesn't press for more but the silence that follows feels a little different now, less tense. You shift in your seat and try to ignore the way your heart is starting to beat just a little too fast or the fact that you're waiting for him to say something. 

After a moment, he exhales, fingers tapping the steering wheel. "For the record," he sighs, his tone almost confessional, "I don't not care about you."

You crane your neck, searching his face for any sign that he's messing with you right now, a glint in his eye, his signature cocky smirk - but his expression is again unreadable. Instead, you watch the outline of his jaw shift slightly, almost as if he regrets his words, but he doesn't take it back.

You swallow nervously, unsure entirely of what to do with this new information. "Good to know," you say slowly, looking away before he can see how much that single sentence has affected you. 

As you do, you're suddenly desperate for an opportunity to change the topic. "How come this whole time I never knew you had a younger sister?"

"Well it's not exactly like you know much about my personal life," he scoffs - and you have to admit he's right.

"I mean, it's not like you're an open book or anything," you reply, "takes me ages just to figure out what you're thinking half the time with that blank expression. It's hard to believe you and Yeji are even related."

"Right because a guy my age should totally be acting like a middle school girl," he nods mockingly.

"You get what I'm saying," you sigh, going quiet for a minute as you think about what to say next. "She looks up to you a lot, you know," is what you land on, trying to balance your tone between sounding casual and earnest. 

You watch as he scoffs, and shakes off your comment with a slight shake of his head. "I'm serious," you say, "she talks about you like you're a superhero or something, even when she complains about you, it's obvious you mean a lot to her."

Even though his expression barely changes, you watch his fingers tighten slightly on the wheel - and the beat of silence before his response is enough to tell you that he's not used to hearing things like this. You find it interesting how even though you're practically complimenting him, he responds as if he's unsettled.

"Whatever, she's young and annoying," he finally mutters - though for the first time, there's no real malice to his tone, only something defensive.

"You're deflecting," you point out. This side of him, the one that's quiet and easily affected by your words, is one you've rarely gotten to see and if you're being completely honest, you're enjoying this far too much to let it go. "I think you like knowing she looks up to you." 

He huffs, clearly growing tired of your prying. "And I think you like hearing yourself talk."

You roll your eyes, but before you can shoot back with another remark, he beats you to it. "And whilst we're prying into my personal life, Yeji mentioned something interesting earlier."

You pause, suddenly wary. "Oh?"

He flicks his turn signal on, voice infuriatingly casual. "Apparently, you remind her of my ex." 

You feel your stomach lurch, followed quickly by a heat creeping up your face. "Excuse me?" is all you can manage to say.

His lips curl slightly, and it becomes clear that he only mentioned this to see your reaction. "Not in looks or anything," he clarifies, glancing briefly at you before focusing back on the road. "Personality-wise, she said you both have a way of getting under my skin."

You scoff, feeling an odd mix of feeling, irritation and something you don't really want to name. "Wow, should I be flattered or insulted?"

"That depends," he muses, "my ex was kinda terrible."

"Seriously?" you gape, shocked at how bold he's being in sharing this with you, "sounds like you're just butthurt from being dumped." 

He actually laughs - fully this time, not just the ghost of a chuckle he let out before. It's still short, and a little quiet, but for some reason it makes your chest tighten.

"Relax," he says, tone laced with amusement, "she wasn't all bad, but she did have this habit of always arguing with me, nitpicking things I did just for the sake of it."

You avoid his gaze, picking up on his signals just a little too quickly. "Sounds familiar," you mutter as you look out the car window at the rain.

You don't need to turn back to know his smirk depends, "Exactly."

The air has shifted completely now. The tension is still there, humming under the surface, but it's now covered by something else - something lighter, more playful, and charged in a way that makes you hyper-aware of how close the two of you are.

Then, just as you think the conversation is over, he speaks again - this time softer, almost absentmindedly.

"But I guess the difference is, I never really cared what she thought of me." 

It's such an offhand comment, something he's thrown out just to fill the silence. But something about it sticks to you, lingering in your mind as you nod, unsure of how to respond, and so you don't.

You spot the familiar sight of the dorms approach in the distance and even though you're compelled to feel relieved that this torturous car ride is drawing to an end - a tiny part of you can't help but feel a little disappointed that this seemingly rare opportunity is ending. Swiftly, he pulls up to the front entrance, parking smoothly and effortlessly.

As you move to undo your seatbelt, he stops you once again with his words. "Hey, I hope you're not going to stop tutoring Yeji, by the way," he's turned to face you now, but his eyes are avoiding yours. 

You furrow your brows, both at his words and his unusual expression. "Why would I?" you say slowly.

"Well, I mean, I just figured because of me and everything-" he begins to ramble, and it's the first time you've seen him stumble over his words like this.

"Relax, I hate you, not her, remember." You say it in the same teasing tone you've always used for him, but it seems to land heavier than you expected with how he turns back to face the steering wheel, his lips forming a thin line.

You linger for a moment, and something about the air between you feels different - like you're standing on the edge of something neither of you can name. Sunghoon's hand is still resting on the gear shift, his fingers drumming against the leather in a steady rhythm. 

"Right," he replies curtly, almost to himself and you can sense just a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You should leave it at that, you know you should. But something about the way he's gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, or how his jaw is tensed ever so slightly, makes you want to press just a little further.

"Unless," you hum, tilting your head slightly, "you'd actually miss me if I stopped coming around?"

"Yeji would," he replies almost immediately - but you don't miss the way his shoulders go rigid for just a fraction of a second before he speaks.

"You didn't deny it," you smirk.

At this, he finally looks at you and there's something about the way he does it - something heavier than the usual irritation or exasperation you're used to. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable and for a split second, you wonder if you've pushed too far. 

But then, he exhales, something softer flickering across his features before he quickly pulls them back into indifference. "Just get out of my car before I start charging you for emotional distress."

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, reaching for the door handle and pushing it open just as the rain continues to pour outside.

"See you next time, Park," you say, "and drive safe."

"Don't tell me what to do," he huffs, though there's a playful tone in his voice as he smirks at you.

You return his look, satisfied, and finally push the door shut - watching as he shifts into gear, headlights illuminating the street. You know you should get inside and out of the rain immediately but you can’t help but watch as he drives off, heart thrumming in your chest as you find the beaming smile on your face lingering. You shake your heard at yourself, almost as if to shake away your thoughts, before turning to head into the dorm. 

What you don’t see though, is the way Sunghoon glances in his rearview mirror one last time before turning away, just to catch a glimpse of you before you do. 

[assignmentwritingservicesblog]

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

[car-o-line]

HII wondering if you could do Matthew hallard as readers best friend when they were both in the orphanage?1?1?1 you could add anything else 😼 im not forcing ANYWAY HAVE A GOOD DAYAYAY

I literally SCREAMED I’m so excited to do a ppt request because chapter 4 was amazing, and because of my ppt brainrot I’ll do Kevin/Jack as well! AND I HOPE UR DAY IS JUST AS AMAZING AS THIS REQUEST🧡❤️💛

Being friends with Matthew/Kevin/Jack(before/after Doey)

Part 2 <3

Matthew Hallard:

Probably the nicest teenager anyone’s ever met tbh.

Whether you’re younger than him or around the same age as him he’ll treat you like his little sibling. There’s no stopping it.

Always puts your needs above his and he won’t compromise that at all.

Oh you’re thirsty? He suddenly has an apple juice box in his hand! Hungry? Well now he suddenly has a bag of chips in his backpack!

(They were supposed to be for him but shh)

Makes sure all your homework’s done, if not then he’ll scold you for it.

But then he’ll feel bad and help you do it.

If you were around his age you'd probably know about his parent’s accidents he couldn’t prevent.

If you were younger he’d save that topic for when you were older, if only he had time left.

He’d be worried sick when you were taken away because you were “sick”.

Once you came back you seemed hazy, it made him nervous so he held your hand just to let you know that he was there, until you were officially “adopted.”

Later he really found out through his own “sickness” what “adoption” meant.

He hates what the scientists did to you, did to him. It gives him a reason to keep going as Doey.

Kevin Barnes:

How??

Like actually how.

Kevin doesn’t know why he considers you his friend ngl.

The scientists were definitely interested in how you and Kevin got along without you running away from him.

They couldn’t care less about the friendship part but they want to know how it started.

It was easy actually, he randomly tackled you to the ground even though you’ve both never talked before.

You didn’t cry, or scream, instead you reacted like it was a game. Which it was, kind of.

Kevin won in the end because of his physical ability but you thought it was really fun!

So now every time he gets bored he tries to find you and tackle you again.

Other than that he cares for you in his own way.

Like when the scientist took you away because of your sickness?

He wouldn’t let go of your arm no matter how hard the scientists tried to pull.

And the more they did that the more times he’d yell at them that you were fine and didn’t need them.

But they got you when he was sleeping, and when he woke up a new toy appeared in the Playtime Facility.

He never saw you again, even after he was “adopted.”

Jack Ayers:

While he wasn’t an orphan he did go on a visit to the Playtime Factory.

He met you through there, he was really excited to make a new friend.

He asked you so many questions about the orphanage and the facility.

In exchange you got to ask him about his home life and how the outside was.

“You haven’t been outside?”

“This area is considered the outside silly!”

“Really..?”

He felt bad for you and suggested that his parents adopted you!

(they said no)

Instead you just took him to see “Home Sweet Home” and showed him your room.

Then Jacks trip to facility was over and he had to leave, but before that his family was watch the process of making Doey.

Jack leaned over the railings to have a closer look but fell into one of vat machines that were making dough.

But the last glimpse of his consciousness he saw a what looked to be a kid with h/c walking with a scientist to one of the offices.

[crushmeeren]

PLSS SHOTO X FEM READER NSFW HEADCANONS

im so down bad for him

do not fear, my friend. I GOT YOU!! i am also down bad for shouto!!

̽ ⋆ ﹒♡﹒ nsfw alphabet (except its only certain letters because i couldn’t summon the strength to write them all) ̽ ⋆ ﹒♡﹒

master list link

ᝰ A ‣ ‣ AFTERCARE { ༝༝ what is shouto like after sex? ༝༝ }

Shouto, in my mind, is 100% a big fat fucking cuddle bug.

That man is unbothered. You could both be covered in sweat, skin sticking together like glue, and he wouldn’t care. He’ll wave off your concerns about cleaning the mess he’s made between your legs and trap you against his chest.

He even started grabbing a Gatorade before sex so he doesn’t have to leave you sprawled out in the bed afterwards.

He loves to be the big spoon. He’ll slip an arm around your waist, tug you to his chest, and nuzzle at the back of your neck until the warmth and comfort of it lulls you to sleep. Shouto’s sneaky hand will find its way to your tit, taking a handful and keeping it there as he drifts off with you.

If you get overheated during the summer, Shouto will sprinkle frost all over you, breathing out chilly air across your neck and chest, placing ice cold fingers to your forehead. If it’s winter, it’s the opposite. He pulls the covers over you both and turns the air beneath toasty.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ B ‣ ‣ BODY PART { ༝༝ shouto’s favorite ༝༝ }

I hate to be basic, but I think Shouto loves your titties.

They’re so squishy, so warm, and there’s the added benefit that he can shove his face between them whenever he pleases. He uses them as a pillow when he lays in between your legs, arms shoved underneath you. He gets so sleepy like this, and the secret weapon is to play with his hair and rub his upper back because he always dozes off. Shouto’s soft snores make you laugh.

He’s a sucker for how perfectly they sit on your chest. He squeezes them whenever the chance presents itself. You could be cooking, working out, watching a movie, etc., and Shouto’s just there. Grabbing your tits.

Not to mention the way they bounce when he fucks you.

I’m also possessed with the idea he’s super into the way your pretty fingers curl around his cock. He’ll even suck on your fingers if you let him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ C ‣ ‣ CUM { ༝༝ where shouto loves to cum ༝༝ }

Shouto loses his mind when he cums inside you.

It’s not limited to your pussy, not by a long shot. His heart pounds when you swallow his cock and the tight muscles of your throat toss him over the edge. He thinks it’s stupid hot when your rim stretches to fit him, pink and soft, on the verge of being split open. He cums so fast.

He isn’t fond of cumming on your face. He’ll cover your tits in the sticky mess any time any day, but there’s just something about marking your pretty face that sits wrong with him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ E ‣ ‣ EXPERIENCE { ༝༝ how much does shouto have? ༝༝ }

Listen, Shouto did not have the time to give two shits about sex when he was in school.

It didn’t get much better once he was out on his own, he got slammed with hero work instead of homework. He’s not a virgin. He’s had sex maybe a handful of times before he got into a relationship with you. He wasn’t the best in the beginning, unsure of what he liked and unsure on how to make you feel the best he could.

But he tried so hard and he was so sweet. He wasn’t embarrassed when you talked to him about it either, just listened and took your words to heart. A green flag if there ever was one.

Shouto let you guide him and you helped him discover what made his cheeks flush bright pink and stars burst behind his eyelids. Sex with Shouto is something that continues to get better and better as time goes on.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ F ‣ ‣ FAVORITE POSITION { ༝༝ shouto’s favorite ༝༝ }

Shouto’s favorite position has got to be any version of missionary where you’re spread out on your back and he’s able to watch your titties bounce. Or when you’re riding him and he’s able to watch your titties bounce.

Literally any position that lets him watch your titties bounce, if that hasn’t been made clear. He really likes to suck on your nipples, whether you’re on top or not.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ H ‣ ‣ HAIR { ༝༝ does shouto shave or care if you do? ༝༝ }

Shouto doesn’t shave, but he does trim. He keeps it close to the skin, not wanting the hair to grow out of control. He hates shaving with a razor, he tried once and the fear of nicking himself put him off it forever. He won’t even entertain the idea of waxing, too much pain, and for what? He’s happy with just trimming and so are you.

The coarse hair is split in color just like on his head, and he’s got a light happy trail stretching from his belly button to his pelvis. The hair is soft, and it makes him even hotter than he already is.

Shouto’s not one to care about whether or not you shave. If you want to be bald, he’s cool. If you want to let it grow, he’s cool. As long as he can get to your pussy, he’ll go with the flow.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ I ‣ ‣ INTIMACY { ༝༝ is shouto romantic? ༝༝ }

Shouto loves the closeness, the intimacy of sex. He’s never been socially palatable, awkward and a man of a few words. It’s gotten better as he’s grown older, but sex is special to him. It’s a way for him to show you he loves you, instead of trying to find what to say.

Sometimes, when you’re both home relaxing, Shouto will appear out of thin air, taking hold of your wrist and guide you to the bathroom. Your tub will already be filled with water and bubbles. He’ll help you get naked and into the warm water, pulling you down to recline on his chest.

Once he’s rubbed all the tension out of your shoulders, he’ll take you to bed and fuck you in that slow, deep rhythm that steals the breath from your lungs. He’ll keep his forehead pressed to yours, fingers playing with your clit until you’re impossibly tight around his cock.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ J ‣ ‣ JERKING OFF { ༝༝ does shouto jerk off? ༝༝ }

He does jerk off, but not often. If you’re busy or away for a few days, he enjoys spreading out in bed and stroking his cock. He’s got some filthy pictures of you saved that are his go to, maybe a video or two.

If he’s lucky, you’ll face time him and join in on the fun. Watching Shouto jerk himself off, his sweet moans and whimpers, you never last long. It’s okay, because he doesn’t either. He’ll watch you play with your clit, listen to you complain about missing his cock and he’ll go off like a shot.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ K ‣ ‣ KINKS { ༝༝ shouto’s kinks ༝༝ }

Shouto is the definition of someone with a praise kink. Praising you makes his dick hard, but getting praised by you? Now that’s a surefire way to make Shouto melt.

If you sit down on Shouto’s cock and say something along the lines of “You’re such a good boy for me Sho, always trying so hard to make me cum. You’re the best at it, I could cum on this perfect cock of yours all day long.” Shouto will let out the sweetest whines, cheeks flushing rosy pink as he pushes his hips up into you and cums.

He also has a hair pulling kink. Tug on his hair while he eats you out, let him tangle his fingers in yours and yank on it when he fucks you from behind or when you suck on his cock. He loves it all.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ L ‣ ‣ LOCATION { ༝༝ where shouto likes to fuck ༝༝ }

He’s not keen on having sex in a bunch of different places. Not risky ones, at the very least.

He wants to be comfortable in your home, in your bed. It’s safe and secluded from the world, and you’re able to do whatever you please in your bubble of privacy. He’s not opposed to sex in the shower or the living room, as long as it’s somewhere within your home he’s fine with it.

Has fucked you in his car before though, and is not entirely against the idea of doing it again. It would depend on the situation. He’s too tall and it’s quite uncomfortable in there, but it’s a nice change of pace.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ O ‣ ‣ ORAL { ༝༝ shouto’s thoughts on oral sex ༝༝ }

Shouto’s pussy eating skills have become insane over time.

He had to learn, because again, he didn’t have a lot of experience to work with when you first started dating. He’s smart, so he picked it up and ran with it.

He eats your pussy sweet and slow, takes his time to build up the rich heat coiling low in your pelvis. He’ll keep his mouth pressed to you, tongue swirling around your clit, and two fingers will push inside you just to curl up and pet your g-spot. He���s gotten good at pushing just the right buttons to unravel you on his tongue.

Shouto’s like most other men, he loves when you suck on his cock. It works well with his hair pulling kink. He can thread his fingers through your hair, yanking it tight to guide your head back and forth. His demeanor cracks every time you deep throat him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ Q ‣ ‣ QUICKIES { ༝༝ shouto and quickies ༝༝ }

He doesn’t mind quickies.

Sometimes he needs to be inside you and he’s only got ten minutes before he has to leave for work. Sometimes Shouto comes home to meet for your lunch break and you shove him onto the couch so you can ride him. It happens.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ S ‣ ‣ STAMINA { ༝༝ how long does shouto last? ༝༝ }

Shouto lasts for a bit above average in terms of time. He’s spent years building up his stamina, and even if he doesn’t last the longest, he for sure can last for several rounds.

He doesn’t need several rounds to be satisfied, he’s happy with one if it means you’re on cloud nine. But if you’re pent up, or you’re just really feeling it that day, he’ll fuck you into the mattress until you’re begging him for a break.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ T ‣ ‣ TEASE { ༝༝ does shouto tease you? ༝༝ }

Shouto’s an oblivious tease.

It’s in the way he moves, he’s so graceful, so pretty. It’s when he reaches up to grab something and his shirt rides up, happy trail and lean belly peaking out for you to stare at. When he comes up behind you while you’re cooking and slides his hands up under the front of your shirt, smoothing his palms over your belly. Speaking to you in a low tone that gives you goosebumps.

Shouto isn’t aware of it most of the time, but when he does feel like teasing you he says things like “You’re my pretty girl, but you need to say please if you want me to make you cum, okay?” Just to see the way your eyebrows pinch together and your lower lip push out, shoving at his chest and saying please in the most exaggerated tone you can muster.

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ highschool math (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : kimi antonelli x reader x grid

tw : fluff; chaos, a little suggestive ?

fc : his own gf lol

a/n : well, writing for the smol head for the first time! requests and feedbacks are always open !

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by norizz, pastayn and 79 others

pastanelli I AM JUST A TEENAGE DIRTBAG 🧎🏻

view comments

lordperceval i forget we have teenagers on the grid

georgey you should be studying! why are you partying ?

pastanelli i am 18!?

pastanelli i can drink ?

pastanelli i can dance ?

pastanelli i have a gf?

ollibear sorry y'all, he is just drunk

norizz we can clearly see that

chillijr he is more miserable than drunk lando

norizz excuse me !?!!?!?

chillijr he is just following your footsteps

ollibear oh btw, your girl was saying she is whooping your ass

pastanelli i do that usually

pastanelli whats this love @ yn

pastayn CAN YOU LIKE

pastayn tf youre drunk for

pastayn yup, i aint sharing my homework

pierreneedsgas they are sharing homework....

lordperceval we share rent..

max rent? mate, you own a house

lordperceval get the point yeah?

max you're old

yukipookie max, what's wrong with your profile name

max its my government name

liked by pastayn, ollibear and 123 others

pastanelli you look sec-c

view comments

georgey why are you in the girls washroom !?

pastanelli i have gf 🤤

georgey that's bloody sausage ! it makes no sense

pastanelli she told me to come to she can give me kiss

pastayn KIMI WHY WOULD YOU POST THAT

pastanelli my girls washroom privileges ?

pastayn revoked.

hackredbull that's yn hw, your work ain't that neat

pastanelli what's hers is mine

norizz you need help with the homework ?

pastanelli as if you know calculus

norizz just ask the engineers mate, they have done degrees

pastanelli wait, that's smart...

pastanelli @ pastayn I WILL GET OUR HOMEWORK DONE FROM MERCEDES, CAN I ENTER THE WASHROOM NOW

pastayn yes, but with like hot cheetos, the girls wants tariff

pastanelli this ain't America !!!

pastayn you act like the duck

ollibear did you do the second worksheet ?

pastanelli yn did it for me, i gotta drive mate

liked by norizz, ollibear, pastayn and 108 others

pastanelli SHE SAID YES !!!!

view comments

georgey for a second i thought you were getting married

carmenvroom you better up your game

lordperceval please calm your speed down antonelli

pastayn afraid that my guy has the guts to propose ?

lordperceval you did not..

lordperceval I LOVE ALEX ALRIGHT

pastanelli i want to marry my wifey 🤤🤤

pastayn soon antonelli soon

norizz i seriously need to get a girl now

pastry what about magui ?

norizz she is just for the night and occasional brunch man

georgey THERE ARE KIDS !!!!

ollibear who have fucked and are adults

norizz what !?!?!?!

lordperceval oh hell no

max i guess we know who is becoming the next dad

ollibear IT'S NOT ME!

pastanelli YOU FUCKED BEFORE ME !

ollibear WE ARE TALKING ABOUT YOU

chillijr weren't they all kids

albono how old are we again ?

albono why are they allowed kissing...

liked by pastayn, georgey, max and 186 others

pastanelli bros and no hoes

view comments

pastayn 🤢

pastayn go sleep with him

pastayn go eat with him

pastayn go kiss him

pastayn go fuck him

ollibear he already did all that with me

ollibear he was waiting to turn 18 for toto

pastayn WHAT!!??!!??

pastanelli bearman, not cool

pastanelli YOU DONT' EXPOSE OUR SEX LIFE

georgey please don't let this cause you to loose from haas

max congratulations to the new couple 👍🏻

pastayn i am asking kelly to follow this account, only she can control him

lordperceval knew these kids were doing it

pastanelli SAYS THE SERIAL CHEATER WITH CARLOS SAINZ

lordperceval IT'S NOT CHEATING, CARLOS WAS THERE BEOFRE ALEX

alexmieux so i am side chick ?

pastayn YAASSS, TEA, FIGHT

lordperceval SHUT UP KIDS

liked by pastayn, ollibear, alexmieux and 162 others

pastanelli WHO GOT THEM OBSSESSED LIKE YN ?

view comments

pastayn i love you 😍

pastayn WE WENT TO SEE JENNIE

pastayn yall rich bf perks

pastayn SPECIAL EDITION YOUR AI COUNDLT COPY

pastanelli DON'T BORE US TAKE US TO THE CHORUS

lordperceval you missed two lines -

pastayn your old ass knows this !?

lordperceval I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!

max how did you get the tickets, P really wants to see her as well

pastanelli dad duties

pastanelli i sat on the website for 2 hours 37 minutes

totohasanaccount maybe if you could put that time into practicing, you would have a podium

pastanelli TOTO FOLLOWS ME!!?!?!?

georgey TOTO!?

lordperceval oops

let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg!

permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx @sadiemack9 @ilivbullyingjeongin @cherry-piee @luvleylisen @sweate-r-weathe-r @jxnellat @loveofmylife12 @budgetcupid @lilaissa @scorpiodiosa @wondergirl101ks @nichmeddar @hoeforlifee @urfavnoirette @lily-ann-b @okcurran @miniboast @teti-menchon0604 @motorsportloverf1 @formula1-motogpfan @capricornito @star73807-blog

[keraawrites]

Tinker

Summary: You were a little oblivious when it came to Bakugo and his flirting so it was only right that you had a little push. ۶ৎ Bakugo x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: nicknames (ma, baby, mama), raw, nipple play, Oral (f receiving), missionary, cowgirl, jealous Bakugo,

Word count — 7k (fucking hell)

Babble: I don't know if I like this...

It was no secret that you were one of the best on the support course; you never joined UA to be a pro, that was never your dream. You loved to tinker, build, destroy. Your eyes always lit up whenever you got a new project; some would say you were worse than Mei.

You had made a name for yourself at UA, straight from first year when you helped the hero course with their support items and made some friends along the way.

So even though you were a support course student with a C-list quirk, you were always welcomed in Class 3-A dorms.

"Thank God you're here!" Your brows raised from the sound of Mina's screech. Your pink friend was currently sat with the rest of the girls, snacks all around them as they tried to tackle on what seemed like a new homework assignment that Aizawa probably set for them.

"You guys know damn well I cant help you--"

"No, we don't need your help." The pinkette giggled, gesturing for you to join them.

You huffed as you dropped your bag on the floor, you were still currently in your uniform, minus the blazer. Your shirt had some stains on it from all your tinkering you had done earlier.

"So what do you want?"

"Eh, that's no way to talk to your best friend." You rolled your eyes at Mina's outburst, the rest of the girls giggled, Jirou offered you some sweets as you snatched an empty skietch pad from the circle.

"We haven't seen you in a couple of days. What's so precious that it's taken your time away from us?" Ochako asked, voice slight of teasing as she nudged her knee with yours.

"A boy, maybe?' Hagakure chimed in, your face scrunched up in slight disgust. It's not that you didn't appreciate the guys in your school; you just didn't have time for them. Most of the time.

You weren't a virgin, far from it, but some of the guys didn't give you as much pleasure as tinkering with your gadgets did (pun not intended)

"No, the boys in my course are boring as fuck and expect to just get a girl off on penetration alone."

A beat of silence.

Then the whole group howled.

“Damn, say it louder!” Mina cackled, nearly choking on a chip.

“I’ve just given up on men until I meet one who knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh?” Mina leaned in, eyes sparkling. “So you’re open to the right one?”

You paused, side-eyeing her. “I guess? But no one’s really caught my eye.”

The circle went suspiciously quiet.

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jirou said way too quickly.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me—what’s with the faces?”

“It’s just…” Mina grinned, eyes devilish. “There might be someone who could keep up with you.”

You laughed, leaning back on your hands. “Highly doubt it.”

The group kept giving you knowing glances that started to irritate you, but before you could demand anything, Midoriya walked into the kitchen, his eyes glancing over to you before they lit up.

"You're here." The green-haired boy ran over to you, excitement in his voice. '"ohmygod thank god, ineedhelpwithmysupport--"

"Deku, slow down. You know I can never understand your rambling"

"R--right sorry. My support item’s been acting weird and I wanted to see if you could take a look at it. I didn’t want to bother Hatsume again—last time she added a grenade launcher without asking.”

You snorted. “Classic Mei. Yeah, I got you.”

Midoriya lit up, you already started walking as he rambled on next to you.

Bakugo had watched the two of you walk off together, he had froze mid step as he stepped into the common room, Kirishima and Kaminair stopping behind him.

“…The fuck?” he muttered, eyes narrowing into slits.

"Aww, was that y/n just now? I wanted to tell her about this new game I found." The overenergetic blonde let out as he waltzed up to the girls.

"Where the fuck are they going?" He barked, not caring how outraged he sounded.

"Oh, Izuku asked her something and she agreed. I guess they are getting it over with." The blonde blinked at his pink friend, he must not have heard her right.

"The fuck you just say?"

Mina looked up at him, and her grin spread slow and sweet. “He asked her for something,” she said innocently. “So she said yes. I guess they’re getting it over with.”

Bakugo blinked.

“Excuse me?” His voice cracked around the edges.

“Oh, you know,” Mina said, fake-casual. “He asked. She said yes. So now they’re off… getting it done.”

“They’re working on his support gear, Bakugo,” Jirou cut in, rolling her eyes. “You can calm down before you combust.”

“I am calm,” he growled.

“You’re clenching your fists so hard your knuckles are white,” Hagakure pointed out.

“You’re jealous,” Mina teased, wiggling her brows. “So cute.”

“I’m not fucking jealous!”

Kirishima raised a brow. “You sure? Because it kinda looks like you want to murder Deku.”

“Tch.” Bakugo scowled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Dumbasses. Don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”

He turned and stomped off, ears red.

“Where’s he going?” Kaminari asked, watching him leave.

“Probably to pace a hole into the training room floor,” Jirou replied.

It had only been two days since you started working on Deku’s wristbands, and honestly? You were kind of obsessed.

They were one of your favourite projects to date. Originally designed by a renowned American tech engineer and brought to life by Mei during your first year, the bands were a blend of precision engineering and brute-force durability. Honing them to perfection? A dream.

Your lab was your sanctuary—quiet except for the bass-heavy rap playlist bouncing off the walls, the smell of solder and metal in the air, and the hum of your tools in your hand.

You were currently bent over the workbench, shorts riding up your thighs, cropped tank clinging to your body as you adjusted one of the internal circuits with surgeon-level precision. You barely noticed the way your hips swayed to the music while you worked—it was instinctual, natural.

Deku had followed you to your lab that day, notebook clutched like it was his lifeline, rambling about specs and hopeful upgrades. You listened. You even took a few notes. Then, you promptly kicked him out.

“I’ll bring them to you when I’m done,” you said.

That was 48 hours ago.

You wiped sweat from your brow, tongue poking out between your lips as you tightened the last screw on the left bracelet. The power calibration was just right now.

“Fuck yeah,” you murmured under your breath, pleased with yourself.

You were about to run a final diagnostics scan when—

“Oi.”

The low, gruff voice snapped you out of your focus.

You blinked, barely registering the thunk of something heavy being dropped on your bench until you looked up—and damn near lost your train of thought again.

Katsuki Bakugo. Resident rage monster of 3-A. Towering in front of your workstation, a towel slung over one shoulder, chest still gleaming from a fresh workout. His black tank clung to every inch of his torso like it had been painted on, and those gray joggers hung low on his hips like they had a damn grudge against your willpower.

Your gaze flicked to the gauntlet he’d dropped, then back to him.

“Can I help you, Bakugo?”

“There’s something wrong with this damn thing,” he grunted, jaw tense. “Don’t got time to mess with it myself.”

Your brows raised in surprise, you heard that he worked on his gauntlets himself. Refusing to let anyone tinker with his babies so yes, you were surprised that he was asking (?) for your help.

You blinked, honestly a little thrown. “You want me to look at your gauntlet?”

“I’m asking, ain’t I?” he snapped, irritation laced with something that felt like… impatience.

You blinked, thrown off. This was… weird. Not that he was asking for help—well, okay, yes, that too—but it was the way he was doing it. Almost like he trusted you. Like he was trying not to sound too desperate, and failing miserably.

You squinted at him, skeptical. “You don’t let anyone touch your shit.”

He just folded his arms tighter.

You scoffed, pushing your glasses up your nose as you looked over him, it wasn't a secret that Bakugo was a hot head, he called everyone he could extra's and blew up at people for little things but he was one of the strongest at UA and he was fucking hot.

“You’re not really asking, though,” you said, grinning. “You’re demanding. That tone? It needs work.”

“Oi—”

“Hush.” You leaned over the gauntlet, trying (and failing) to tamp down your excitement. If working on Deku’s wristbands was thrilling, Bakugo’s gauntlets? That shit had your panties wet. You’d always wondered how the internal mechanisms kept up with the sheer output of his quirk. The heat, the pressure, the exhaust management—how it didn’t blow his damn hands off every time.

Your fingers danced over the gauntlet, brushing the edge of the release valve. “God, this is so sexy.”

Bakugo couldn't help but watch you, you were in your element. The way your fingers ran down his gauntlents, like they were your prized possession. The excitement that glimmerde in your brown eyes as you began to tweak his shit.

His eyes trailed down to your bare thighs, specks of oil and dirt taineted your brown skin but you still looked beautiful none the less.

It wasn't normal for him to have a crush, he didn't do crushes. Yeah he's been with a couple of girls but that was just sex. He had never wanted something more, but yet he somehow had feelings for you and you still were unaware.

He thought he made it obvious a couple of times but the blonde came to learn you were quite oblivious and blind to things that weren't your gadgets.

"I could have fixed this for you right now but I don't have the part I need. I'll have to run to the mall tomorrow for it. That okay?"

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered. “I’ll come with.”

You blinked. “Huh? You don’t have to—it’s just a quick trip—”

“I’d rather know what you’re puttin’ in my gear, so yeah. I’m coming.” You blinked at his bluntness as he walked out of your workshop, your eyes following the way his back muscles moved as he walked.

Wait.

Did he just sugest that you two spend time together?

Alone?

Willingly!?

It was a mistake to tell your pink friend about your visit from the blonde.

"NO WAY! It's a date. It has to be a date!" Your eye twitched at the level of excitement that came from her lungs.

"it's not a date Mina, he's just being possessive about his gear and wants to make sure I'm not messing it up or whatever." You said as you finished putting on your outfit.

"Yeah, so why you dressed like it's a date?" You blinked at her question, looking in the mirror over your outift. It wasn't strange that you wore an outfit like this, everyone who knew you outside of your tinkering knew you'd like to t dress girly whenever you had the chance.

So yes, a pink skirt and crop top shouldn't have screamed date. But Mina has now put ideas in your head.

“Okay but like,” she started from behind you, voice softer now. “You like him. Don’t you?”

You paused, fingers hovering over your hair.

“…I don’t know.”

She snorted. “Liar.”

You didn’t reply.

Because maybe you did know. Maybe the way your chest fluttered when he called you dumbass with no real malice, or when you watched him spar with Kiri and the others. He was a sight for sore eyes, so yes he found him attraive, as hell. But did you like him?

You said you didn’t have time for any of the guys in your course and while that was true, the most part of it was because you often wondered if the blonde was cocky in other areas.

"Bakugo doesn't do hangouts, Kiri has to drag him whenever we do group hangouts and he just suggested he'd come with you? He's finally given up on sly ways of flirting I'd give him that."

"W-what are you on about?"

The pink girl grinned as she looked over at you, "We told you that there was someone who could keep up with you the other day did we not?"

You glared at her, but she just grinned wider, chin propped on her hands. She hummed as she got up from your bed, pulling your hair out of its ponytail, your curls stopping just below your shoulders.

“Keep it out,” she said softly. “Trust me.”

“Mina…”

“I’ll shut up. But text me everything. Like, updates. Live feed. I want tea in real time.”

And with a wink, she left.

You turned to look back at yourself in the mirror-- no you were not changing. This wasn't for him, you dressed for youself, your girly counterpart to your greasy tinker fairy.

This was not a date. You were just going to to get the part you needed, pick up some manga and other bits and come back and finish of his gear.

You made your way out of your dorm building, walking over to the gates where he said he'd meet you. You noticed him before he noticed you, he wore a white t-shirt with some black jeans...

Fuck, fuuckkkk. Why was he so fine!?

"You're late."

"Huh, I'm actually early," you replied, swallowing thickly as his eyes dragged over you.

You felt your pulse spike under his gaze, and suddenly every word Mina said was back in your head. You crossed your arms over your chest—just to do something with your hands—but didn’t realize it only pushed your boobs up a little higher.

Bakugo's pupils dilated only for a second before he started walking.

"Hey, you can't just walk off."

"Then keep up."

You jogged a few steps to catch him, lips twitching. “You’re the one who invited yourself, y’know.”

“Tch. Only ‘cause you’d pick the wrong shit.”

“Oh, so now I’m the dumbass and the liability?”

His shoulders twitched—maybe from a laugh, maybe from irritation. With Bakugo, it was always a coin toss.

You kept walking, the silence falling in comfortably between you both. You didn't know what to say, you wanted to say something, there couldn't just be silence between you two for the whole time.

But what would you even say? Mina had put ridiculous ideas in your head about Bakugo, and now you didn't know how to act around the blonde.

"Here." You blinked, looking up at him as he handed you his left earbud.

"I can just listen to my own music."

"Huh? What's the point in that if we're together." He rebuttled, shoving the bud into your ear.

"Yeah, but you probably listen to heavy metal, that's probably the only thing that keeps up with your exposiveness." You teased, the blonde clicked his tongue as he pinched your cheeks, causing you to whine.

You were about to scold him, but the sound of his choice of music caught you off guard.

“…Wait. Is this—?”

“Don’t say shit.”

“Is this—SZA?!”

Bakugo growled low under his breath, glaring at the sidewalk like it betrayed him.

“Oh my god.” You bit your lip, grinning. “You listen to Snooze?”

“She’s got good vocals, alright?” he snapped. “Shut up.”

You couldn’t help it. You full-on laughed. “This is so soft. You’re soft. I’m gonna tell Kiri.”

“You tell anyone and I swear to god—”

You were still giggling as the two of you turned the corner. He kept his head turned slightly away from you, but you could see the pink creeping up his neck.

Your fingers brushed his briefly as you walked—just a flick of skin on skin. Neither of you moved away.

“…You listen to music like this often?” you asked quietly.

He shrugged, still looking ahead. “Sometimes. When I’m working. Shit gets loud in my head. It helps.”

Your smile softened.

You didn’t expect him to say something like that.

And maybe you didn’t need to.

It wasn't long until you reached the shop you needed.

It was tucked into a side street—one of those speciality spots that looked half abandoned from the outside but had everything a gearhead could dream of on the inside.

You pushed open the door, the bell above jingling as you stepped into the cool, metal-scented air. Immediately, your eyes scanned the shelves, familiar with the layout. Organised chaos. Home sweet home.

Bakugo followed behind you, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced around. "This place looks like it's one breath away from collapsing to shit."

You grinned. "That’s the point. All the best stuff is in the mess."

You walked confidently toward the back where the hardware modules were displayed behind glass. “This guy sources from the same place the Support Course pulls from. He just doesn’t bother with the fancy labels.”

You crouched down, scanning the second row until your eyes lit up. “There. That’s the one I need.”

He leaned over your shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his chest behind you. “Sure that’s it?”

“Do not question me.”

“Tch.” He leaned in closer, voice low. “Just makin’ sure. Can’t have you screwin’ up my shit.”

“Your shit was overclocked and fried through three layers of plating. That’s not on me.” You tilted your head up with a smug smile—and regretted it immediately.

His face was right there.

Crimson eyes. Faint scent of whatever cologne he wore mixed with burnt caramel. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just looked down at you, his mouth twitching like he was about to say something.

Instead, he reached over and knocked on the glass.

“Yo! You got this one in stock?”

An older man shuffled out from the back, nodded, and went to grab the part. You quickly straightened up, heart thudding like a drum in your chest. You avoided Bakugo’s eyes as you pulled out your wallet.

He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. “I got it.”

You blinked. “What? No, this is my—”

“You’re fixin’ my gear,” he said gruffly, not looking at you. “Least I can do is pay for the part.”

“But I—”

“Shut up and let me do it.”

You opened your mouth again but closed it when you saw his ears going red.

You both stepped back out into the sunny street, walking shoulder to shoulder in a much more relaxed silence than before even if he still refused to meet your eyes for paying for the part.

You tucked the part carefully into your bag and sighed contentedly. "Alright, mission complete. Wanna head back?"

Bakugo made a sound like he was already halfway through saying “yes,” but then you turned slightly, eyes catching on a storefront a few doors down.

“Ooh—wait,” you pointed, already switching direction. “Hold up. I wanna check out the manga shop.”

Bakugo raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“You decided to tag along with me, so put up with my side quests.” You shot him a look over your shoulder.

You pushed the door open, the little jingle ringing out again, and walked inside. The place was compact but cosy—wooden shelves lined every wall, organised by genre and series. You let out a little happy sigh and made a beeline for the romance section, already scanning for the next volume of a series you’d been waiting on.

Bakugo followed behind, keeping his hands in his pockets, pretending to look bored. But you noticed how he didn’t stray too far. Not even when you stopped in front of a bright pink-covered volume with delicate art.

“Ooooh—finally.” You grabbed it like it was a treasure, flipping through the pages. “My Star’s Last Confession, volume 10. I’ve been waiting months for this one.”

The blonde glanced at it, and froze.

You caught it. “What?”

“…Nothing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You know this manga.”

“No, I don’t.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Katsuki. You paused. You definitely know this manga.”

His jaw ticked. “It’s just—whatever. It’s popular. You see it online.”

You blinked at him. “You read romance manga?”

He turned his head like he was trying to physically escape the question. “Tch. Not usually.”

You gasped, stepping in front of him. “Oh my God, you do. Don’t even lie. Wait—wait—do you actually like My Star’s Last Confession?!”

“…maybe.”

You smacked his arm with the volume in your hand. “No way! First music and now manga, you actually have taste.

He rolled his eyes, but his ears were pink. “It’s not about taste. The story’s just… good.”

“Ohhh, so you cried when Rika confessed at the shrine, didn’t you?” you teased.

“I didn’t cry.”

“You so cried.”

Bakugo tried to look annoyed, but the way his mouth twitched said otherwise. “You get loud about everything, you know that?”

“Only things I'm excited about,” you grinned.

You both browsed for a while longer, laughing over a few ridiculous plot twists and complaining about series that dragged out too long. At one point, your hands brushed reaching for the same volume—and neither of you pulled back.

You quickly grabbed your manga, pressing it to your chest, and cleared your throat. “Okay… I’m ready to head back to campus.”

Bakugo didn’t move. “We don’t gotta yet.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean…” he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I was thinkin’… There’s a noodle place not far. You hungry?”

You tilted your head. “Like… get food?”

He shrugged. “Why not?"

Your heart did that dumb little flutter again. “...Like, you and me?”

He gave you a look that was definitely not annoyed—just a little too intense. “Yeah. You and me.”

You tried not to smile. “Okay. Yeah. I could eat.”

As you both walked out of the store, bags in hand, earbuds still loosely shared between you, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe Mina had been onto something after all.

You two had a great time, the blonde wasn't the silent brooding type you expected him to be. He asked you questions, spoke to you about your goals for after UA.

The conversation was good-- comfortable, and if it didn't happen more than once, you would have surely thought you were hearing things. But Bakugo was being flirty, in his own ridiculous way.

And to top it off, he paid. Again.

Like it was normal. Like you two did this kind of thing all the time. And somehow, it felt like that—natural, easy. No explosions (yet), no arguing (much). Just the two of you, side by side, eating and talking about stupid things and he made you laugh.

Was Mina… right?

The question had been gnawing at the back of your mind the entire walk back. Every time your arms brushed. Every time he looked over, like he was checking to make sure you were keeping up—even though you both walked in step.

“You good?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. He didn’t look at you, but his voice held something gentler than usual. That gravelly low that came out when he wasn’t on edge.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. Just… thinking.”

His eyes cut over briefly before he nodded, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

You breathed out, still feeling the leftover heat of him beside you. It wasn’t even cold, but the wind caught your skirt and made you curl slightly inward.

“You cold?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Maybe if you brought a jacket, given what you’re wearin’—”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” you shot back, brows raised, even though there was a smile tugging at your lips.

He glanced at you, eyes flicking down then back up. “Didn’t say there was. You look good. But now you’re cold.”

I… look good?

You silently thanked God for two reasons: one, that it was dark outside. Two, that you were Black, because the flush rising to your cheeks would’ve been way more obvious otherwise.

“Thanks, by the way,” you said, a little quieter. “For the food. I wasn’t expecting… well, I dunno. Just… thanks.”

“Tch. Told you not to make it weird.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, and this time when you looked over at him, he didn’t look away.

The gates to the dorms were up ahead, and even though your feet were aching, your chest was heavier at the thought of the night ending.

“I’m gonna start working on the gauntlet,” you murmured. “Should be ready by tomorrow. Midday, latest.”

Bakugo gave a little nod, then slowed just a fraction, tilting his head toward you.

“Y’know… I wanna trade.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

His ears were red. He wasn’t looking right at you. “I got a signed first edition of somethin’ you might like. You give me what you bought today, I’ll trade you.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“What series?!”

“You’ll see.”

“Well show me!”

You barely waited for his response before you bolted toward the dorm doors, Bakugo’s low laugh trailing behind you like heat.

He watched you go, a smirk pulling at his lips. In the common room, Mina nearly dropped her phone trying to wave you down as you beelined past everyone and made a beeline for the elevator.

“Girl! Where the hell you—?”

“Later, Mina!” you called over your shoulder, not stopping.

Bakugo strolled in a second later, ignoring the confused looks, a small smirk tugging against his lips.

The journey up to his room was fast, it was probably from all the excitement to see what series he was talking about.

But that excitement soon turned to nerves once you actually got to his room.

It was what you expected to be fair. His room was completely clean and organised, a couple of All Mighht posters and some rock bands, his books laid out on his desk and a pile of gym clothes on his chair in his corner.

You slowly entered the room, jumping slightly from the slam of his door. Your eyes darted over the room, noticing small things that seemed to make sense for him but before you could get a deeper look you felt a nudge into your arm.

A sealed plastic sleeve, slightly worn at the edges from age. Your eyes widened.

“No. No fucking way.”

He smirked. “Yep.”

“You have A Garden In Winter?! SIGNED?!”

The title alone sent a jolt through your whole body. It was one of your favorite slow-burn romance manga—long out of print, basically impossible to find in good condition.

And he had it.

“Don’t play with me, Katsuki” you said, snatching it gently from his hand like it was made of glass.

“Hey—careful with it,” he warned, but his tone was light. Almost teasing.

You stared at the neat signature across the front page, your mouth dry. “How the hell did you even get this?”

Bakugo shrugged and plopped down on the edge of his bed. “Had it since second year. My mom got it signed at some con. Didn’t know what it was until I actually read it.”

“And you read it?”

“…Yeah.”

You looked up from the sleeve slowly, still half in shock. “So you’re telling me you’ve been reading romance manga this whole time and hid it from everyone?”

“Those extras don't gotta know this shit.’,” he muttered, leaning back on his hands.

You laughed—this delighted, disbelieving sound that made his lips twitch.

“I’m not letting this outta my sight,” you muttered, flipping it open like it was sacred.

“So? You tradin’ or not?” he asked, nodding toward the small bag you still clutched.

You set your bag on his desk and pulled out the part he needed, laying it neatly beside his blueprints. You hadn't even realised you sat on his bed until you madce yourself comfortable, skirt riding up your thighs softly.

You could feel his stare on you, you tried so hard to concertate on the book in your hand. Your fingers brushed against the fabric of his sheets untul they hit something wooden.

Blinking slightly, you picked up to woddedn sticks, looking back at the blonde who just continued to stare at you.

"Oh my God yeah, your a fucking drummer boy. Remember from the festival in first year."

Bakugo scoffed slightly, taking the sticks from you before placing them down on his desk.

"Those extras know I'm good at everything and goaded me into playing."

You bit your lip, eyes wandering over him, heart beating slightly against your chest. "Maybe people underestimated you, you say your good at everything-- doesn't mean your actyally good at everything."

The blonde's eyes dipped slightly, gaze dropping to your lips before meeting your eyes once again.

"I am good at everything."

You licked your lips softly, watching how he inched closer to you.

"Some people have to see it to believe it."

You weren't suprsied it happened, what you was suprised about was how fucking amazing it felt.

Kissing Bakugo was just what you’d always imagined it would be. He didn’t do anything half-assed, so you weren’t surprised by the passion behind it. Being this close to him was exhilarating. You could smell the faint scent of caramel on him when you breathed in, tilting your head slightly as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip.

He wedged his knee between yours, prying your legs to open futher as he pushed you both down onto the bed. Your hands were planted firmly in his hair as his fingers ran on the inner skin of your thigh.

He pulled away, the two of you breathless. He didn’t go far, his lips trailing down your jaw and to your neck, nipping lightly as he went. You sighed when his hands moved from your thigh, fingers drifting along the exposed flesh of your belly and trailing lightly up your sides. Your nails began scratching lightly along his scalp and tugging at his soft locks as his teeth worried at the place where your neck and shoulder met.

It wasn’t long before his fingers smoothed their way up your calf. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs wider, tracing one finger over your clothed slit. The look in his eyes was positively feral when they met yours. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You moaned softly as he began drawing small circles, but it was short-lived when you pulled the blonde off you, the worry in his eyes was bright before disappearing as he watched you pull your top over your head. His eyes galzed over in lust as they darted down to your boobs that were covered in a white lace.

He leaned in, mouth warm as he traced the edge of your bra with his tongue. You unclasped it and he wasted no time tossing it aside, big hands kneading your tits while his mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking until it was stiff and aching. Your back arched into him, fingers tangling in his hair, gasping when he switched to the other with the same slow, tormenting rhythm.

You dragged him up into another kiss, messier this time, as your hands worked beneath his shirt. He pulled back just enough to rip it off, and fuck—he was gorgeous. Cut like a sculpture, every line and dip begging to be touched.

Your hands roamed, nails dragging over his pecs and abs before you leaned up to mouth along his collarbone, feeling the rumble in his chest when you nipped his skin.

He let out a low growl, flipping you further up the bed and covering you with his body again. His forearms braced on either side of your head, hips pressing into yours while he kissed you rough and slow, like he needed to make the moment last.

Then his mouth was gone again, trailing heat down your torso. He tugged your skirt down, and you helped him kick it off, breath catching as the room's cool air kissed your exposed skin. He groaned when he saw your soaked panties—black, delicate, and clinging to your folds.

“You know how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this?” he muttered, hot against your thigh as he settled between your legs.

Your head fell back when his hand slid higher, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate circles over your clit. Even through the lace, it made you twitch.

“Katsuki—” you whimpered.

“You’ve been so fucking oblivious,” he growled, voice rough with restraint. “Actin’ like I didn’t want you. Actin’ like I wasn’t ready to drop everything just to touch you like this.”

You gasped as he slid your panties aside, thick fingers gliding through your soaked folds. “Shit—you're so wet already.”

Then he hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down, slow and deliberate, letting his eyes roam as he took you in bare for the first time.

He groaned like he was in pain. “Fuck. Look at you.”

You spread your legs for him, shameless, your cunt glistening under the soft light, already clenching on nothing.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, then again, higher, until he was just breathing against you.

“Bet you taste even better than I imagined.”

Your hand threaded through his hair, and the second your hips lifted in silent invitation, he dove in.

His mouth met your pussy like he’d been dreaming of it—tongue flat and slow at first, licking from your entrance to your clit, groaning when your thighs trembled around his head. He sucked your clit between his lips and you cried out, hips twitching, legs instinctively trying to close, but his hands were there—gripping your thighs, holding you wide open for him.

He was messy with it. Tongue fucking you between tight circles over your clit, moaning into your folds like he couldn’t get enough. You were panting, writhing, one hand clawing at the sheets, the other gripping his hair like a lifeline.

“Fuck, Katsuki— please—don’t stop—”

That just made him go harder, sloppier, like he was trying to make you come with his mouth alone.

And you would. You were close. Too close.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna soak my fuckin’ face?”

Your back arched. “Yes—yes, I’m gonna—”

“Good. Make a mess on my tongue.”

It was almost a shame how fast you came. A choked moan leaving your lips, hips rolling, body shaking as he lapped you through it, humming into your cunt like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

And when he finally pulled away, his mouth glistening, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand and smirked.

“You good?” His arm came up to wipe the wetness from his mouth and chin, a smirk on his lips when you nodded.

You cleared your throat. “So good.” You sat up on your elbows, watching him stand again and shove his jeans along with briefs down his legs. Your eyes widened slightly at his size, appreciating his body quietly. He was an Adonis, and you wanted to trace over every inch of his body with your fingers and tongue.

He didn’t give you a chance, crawling back towards you. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him. “Do I need to grab a condom?”

“I’m on the pill.”

You weren’t sure why the question made your stomach flutter the way it did, but something about the way he asked—so sure, but still asking—sent heat straight to your core.

“Oh, thank god,” he groaned, leaning down, palms flat on either side of your head as he kissed you deep. The taste of yourself on his tongue was lewd and addicting, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, anchoring him to you.

You don't know why it took you so long, but God, you knew you’d probably never get enough.

“Katsuki,” you whispered, voice airy and pleading as he coated his tip with your slick, your hips rocked up toward him, impatient to feel him filling you up.

He didn’t say a word—just locked eyes with you and began to push in.

Your mouth dropped open on a moan as the stretch began to build. He was so big it almost hurt, your body instinctively tightening around him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched tight. “You’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.”

You whimpered, legs trembling as he sank deeper, inch by inch, until he bottomed out and you swore the air left your lungs.

"Kat—fuck." You were full, completely and utterly stuffed. It was the best kind of pressure, and your cunt fluttered helplessly around him.

He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, one hand gripping your hip, the other stroking along your waist to soothe you. Then he started to move.

He pulled out almost all the way, then rolled his hips back in, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching on every exhale. Slow at first, his pace deliberate, like he was learning what made you moan, what made your thighs twitch, what made you lose your goddamn mind.

“Fuck, you feel insane,” he grunted, voice strained as he dipped down to kiss your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. “So fuckin’ warm, so tight—shit, you were made for me.”

Your hands ran up his back, nails scratching lightly over his shoulder blades. “Faster,” you begged, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Please, Katsuki, harder—”

Your moans and mumbled pleas of faster and harder were answered with a smirk, the boy between your thighs raising himself up to his knees and lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder. Large hands held your hips firmly in place as he slammed himself inside, tip kissing your cervix as you arched up in pleasure. He picked up speed, the sound of skin slapping skin filling your ears as you bit down on your bottom lip, focusing on the feeling of him filling you up just like you’d always wanted.

“F-fuck!” you cried out, eyes rolling as his cock hit your sweet spot dead-on.

“Yeah?” he growled, hips snapping into yours with obscene, wet slaps. “That what you needed, baby?”

When he bent forward, pressing your leg up toward your chest, the stretch burned again in the best way, your body forced open for him. He sealed your lips in a kiss, groaning as he felt how your cunt squeezed around him when his tongue met yours.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered into your mouth, “wrapped around me like this—like you were waitin’ for me.”

Your walls kept fluttering around him, you could feel your orgasm trying to wash over you, but you didn't want it to end yet.

You pressed your plams aginast his chest, the blonde halted his movements, his brows furrowed as he stared down at you but didn't get a chance to ask you what was wrong.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pivoting your weight and flipped him over. Katsuki's eyes widened as you took your place, straddling him, cook still buried in your cervix.

"Fuck mama."

Katsuki threw his head back, eyes closed, his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked so pretty like this, his skin flushed and chest heaving, hair mussed from your hands running through it. You leaned forward, dragging your lips along his sharp jaw, breathing in the scent of caramel.

He chose that moment to tighten his hands around your hips, holding you steady as he bucked up into you, forcing you to sit up, your back arching in pleasure. The muscles in your legs burned from exertion, but you kept moving, bouncing on his cock and clenching around him. You knew you’d be sore the next day but felt too good to stop.

One of his hands moved from your hip, fingers trailing across your skin to dip between your thighs, one calloused finger pressing against your clit. Gasping, you moaned his name lowly, your head falling back as you felt your body preparing to throw you over the edge again. “Oh fuck, I’m close.” Voice trembling, you held your breath, letting your eyes close.

He sat up suddenly, chest to chest, feet pressed into the mattress as he fucked up into you. Your hands flew to his hair, moaning as you fluttered around his cock, his breath was warm against you as he whispered praises into your ear

“Katsuki,” you gasped, mouth falling open as your back arched. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah? Come on my cock, ma. Come for me.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like a live wire—thighs shaking, fingers clawing at his arms, your pussy fluttering around him as he slammed up into you,, milking every last drop of pleasure out of you.

Your toes curled as you rode out your orgasm, nails digging into the pale flesh of his back as you tried to keep yourself tethered to him, feeling as though you might float away, his name shuddering from your parted lips

He slowed, grinding deep, but never let you go. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuckin’ beautiful when you come.”

Groaning lowly in your ear, he came right after, his cum painted your walls, the warm liquid filling you up as he continued to fuck you both through your orgasm.

Your thighs trembled around his hips as the aftershocks rolled through you. For a long moment, neither of you moved—just breathing in sync, sweat-slicked skin pressed close, foreheads resting together.

Eventually, Katsuki eased you both down, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thump as you collapsed on top of him, cheek pressed to his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear. His hand found your back, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles along your spine.

"What's so funny?"

You peeked up at him, eyes still hazy with bliss. “Just thinkin’ about how long I’ve been clueless.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue and nipped gently at your neck, just enough to make you squirm. “Tch. Took you long enough. Now you’re stuck with me.”

You hummed softly, but the blonde lifted your chin up to press a kiss to your lips.

“You're stayin’ over,” he mumbled against your lips. “Not negotiable.”

You grinned, brushing your nose against his. “Guess I better get comfy then.”

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[artstennisracket]

TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAMWORK

summary: patrick was the cocky quarterback who reeked of confidence. art was his right hand man, best friend, wide receiver, and still not patrick’s biggest fan. you were the intrigued cheerleader who has a thing for blondes in backwards caps and sticky situations

pairings: art donaldson x fem!reader x patrick zweig, patrick zweig x tashi duncan (implied)

warnings: teasing, blowjob, double penetration, p in v (reader receiving), anal (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), dirty talk, oral (reader receiving), overstimulation, dubcon

notes: surprise!!! another collab fic but this time with my wife addie <3333 (@musingsofheaven) who I love sm and is insanely talented and helped get this to a word count of 10k, so everyone say thank you addie!!! this is the definition of porn with an actual plot I swear. so I hope you guys love it <3

If someone, anyone, in the entire school were to describe Patrick in one word it would be cocky. They’d follow that up by saying quarterbacks need to be cocky, to have confidence, to be sure of themselves.

If you asked Art to describe Patrick in one word or phrase he’d say ‘attention whore’. Art knows how much Patrick liked the spotlight. That’s why when they originally tried out for the football team 3 years ago, Patrick didn’t tell Art he was gunning for quarterback (the position Art wanted).

Now if someone asked Tashi to describe Patrick in one word or phrase it would be ‘dumb jock’. As captain of the cheerleading squad, she has had plenty of time to experience Patrick Zweig, not to mention the fact that he was also her ex. He never paid much attention in any of his classes and Tashi was 99% sure that Art did all of Patrick’s homework for him anyway.

If you were asked to describe Patrick, you’re not sure what you would say. Despite being on the cheerleading squad (meaning you’ve attended every football game of the entire season), you never really interacted with either Patrick or Art. Until today.

Tashi had booked the football field for practice today since the championship game was tomorrow and she wanted to be able to do a full run through in uniform. She was running late because her last class was running over so she shot you a text asking you to run warmups.

You led the team down to the field only to find the space being occupied by none other than the football team. Great.

A low wolf whistle pulls your attention to a tall brunette pulling off a red and white striped football helmet, “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He shakes his curls out before running a hand through them.

“We have the field booked for practice.” You keep your tone neutral as he makes a point to slowly look you over. Noticing the extra time he takes on your bare legs and the curve of your chest.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looks around for a bit before bringing his eyes up to finally meet yours. “No, I don’t think you do.” Smiling, a stupid smug smile. Like there’s no possibility in the world that he didn’t have this field booked for his practice.

Your gut instinct was to reach for the phone to call Tashi and check if she really did book the field. But you knew your captain. She didn’t make mistakes.

“Yes, we do. So I’m going to have to ask you and the rest of your team to leave.” Further insisting as you cross your arms.

“Oh is that so? You’re gonna have to ask the team captain then,” he shrugs with a fake pout. The tone of his voice was unwavering, with zero sense of urgency.

A deep breath is exhaled through your nose. Okay so maybe he is an asshole. Another player makes his way over, stumbling right into the middle of your standoff with Patrick. He takes his helmet off to shake out his blonde hair before pushing his hair out of his eyes, “Everything okay?” The sincerity in his voice feels real, reaching his baby blue eyes. This must be Art.

You offer a small smile hoping to reason with him instead, someone more mature than Patrick. “Do you know where I can find the team captain? We have the field booked today for practice,” making sure to reinject the nice sweetness in your voice, hoping for things to go your way now.

Art raises an eyebrow, an amused smile on his lips. No sarcasm just genuine amusement, “Patrick is the captain.”

Begrudgingly, you force your eyes to land back on where Patrick is laughing hysterically, like something was funny. But you weren’t amused. “Okay so can you tell your team of buffoons to get the fuck off the field so we can practice? Thanks.” You gesture to your team to start setting themselves up on the field. Too much time has already been wasted and stretching needs to be done before Tashi gets here.

“Woah! No need to get feisty. I mean unless you want to continue this somewhere else with less witnesses,” he smirks, “Or maybe you like having an audience.” You roll your eyes in pure annoyance. A small crowd started to gather of football players, intrigued by you and Patrick’s exchange of words. Fixing your mouth to say something until he starts again, “How about I let you practice here under one condition?”

“What?”

He smirks, “If you get on your knees and ask me nicely, I will tell my players to come back for practice later. Then you’ll have the field to yourself.” Followed by hollering and whistles from the rest of the team who would love to see you do that.

The involuntarily twitch in your eye mixed with the look of anger slowly creeping up most jolt something awake in Art. He presses his hand against Patrick’s chest causing Patrick’s eyes to follow. Art intervenes with a suggestion, “What if we just share? You guys can practice on this half and we’ll practice on that half.”

Trying to keep your cool and not lose it anymore than you already have, you let out a “Fine,” from tight lips. Unhappy but the problem is somewhat solved.

You don't have any choice but to lead your team to the far side of the field, dropping your bag near the bleachers before sending daggers to the back of the football team. The girls start pulling at their shoelaces, fixing their skirts, and tugging ponytails tighter, and you feel the air sticky against your skin.

You take a breath while trying to make the best of the situation by ignoring the noise from the boys across the field as you face your team. “Alright, we’re starting stretches,” you call out, clapping once to get everyone’s focus. “Line up!” The voice echoed and faced seriously while you watched them do what you said.

You step to the front when forming two rows on the grass with feet apart, rolling your shoulders back before you fold forward, reaching for your toes. The girls immediately follow you when you demonstrate the first stretch; no need to say it one by one because they know how to follow the silent command. Tashi trained the girls better and with control of listening and following.

The stretch pulls down your legs, calves tightening, fingers brushing the grass. You stay down and start counting out loud. “Ten… nine… eight…”

You could hear the football team’s shouting and the slap of the ball hitting hands cut over your counting, but you ignored them despite their occasional looks and whistling when they saw the girls bend down. You keep going, though, standing up slowly and having your arms reach high until your ribs pull, and then dropping into a side stretch, one hand on your hip, the other pulling over your head, which makes your body curve to the side.

Across the field, Patrick’s voice calls out plays, loud and clear to his team. You can hear his laugh when someone messes up, like all of them are one big group of old friends that he can just laugh about when his team screws up, and you can feel his eyes even without looking. You intentionally drop and instruct the team to go into another forward fold, hips pushing back, your skirt lifted just enough to show your ass and to know he’s watching.

The grass sticks to your palms as you press them into the ground, feeling the roughness of it under them, holding the stretch and letting your back lengthen to get that stretch for a few seconds before you move into a lunge after that, one knee on the ground, and you can almost feel the little soil and grass on your skin because you're so close to kneeling there; the other leg is bent in front of you, pushing your hips forward to open them up. “Feel it here,” you say, tapping your hip flexor so the girls can follow.

“Yeah, I bet you feel it there,” Patrick’s voice is so loud you can hear it from the side of the field where you and the girls are stretching. The laughter? It’s pissing you off.

You keep your breathing steady. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale- you count in your mind and close your eyes for a few seconds. But when you close your eyes, the only thing you can see is his annoying face, which makes your jaw tighten. You are trying hard to ignore him as you sink lower because if you let him get into your head, you might punch him already. You just let your shirt shift up your stomach as you lift your arms overhead for another side stretch. The sweat starts to form at the back of your neck, and it sticks to your hair, and your shirt clings more to your body as you move.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing your splits or something?” Patrick calls again, smug. Taunting you for a reaction. But you won't give him the satisfaction of snapping or walking out of the practice.

You straighten, looking at him from across the field. Your eyes are sending him death threats already, catching the way he’s holding his helmet under one arm, curling damp with sweat. You hate that constant smirk on his lips. It's so… annoying. So full of ego. So full of testosterone. Art stands behind him, adjusting his shirt, blue eyes flicking from you to Patrick like he's waiting for some mess to happen while his jaw is tight.

“Shouldn’t you be trying not to get tackled for once?” You fire back. You might not be snapping at him the way he wants, but you'll get petty too if he wants some fire out of you.

“Oooh,” his teammates holler and laugh at the comment you just made.

Patrick’s grin widens as he tosses the ball to Art without looking, but Art manages to catch it despite being caught off guard when he just threw it to him. “Feisty,” Patrick says, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I like that.”

“God, just ignore him,” one of your teammates mutters and scoffs as she stretches beside you. “He’s an asshole. I can’t believe Tashi ever dated that guy,” another girl said, and you quickly gave her the look like you're saying to her that you shouldn't talk like that because he might just come and hear it.

“Stop gossiping,” you said when you shifted into a standing split, grabbing your ankle, bending it in half before pulling your leg high, balancing on one foot. The girls followed. But for you? You do that just to show off to Patrick. To get a reaction. The stretch bites down your hamstrings, the pull deep and sharp, but you hold it. There's something good about the feeling, though, when the muscles are being pulled. You let your back stay straight, breathing through the shake in your leg. Hold it as long as you can, even if some girls have already given up. The noise from the boys softens for a second, and then you hear a low whistle, followed by, “Damn.”

You don’t drop your leg. God, you hate attention, but he's drawing this side of you, so you let it hover, letting them watch as you stay steady. You don't really want eyes on you even when you are in the cheer; you just love the sport—the cheerleading.

Your face calms even as your thigh trembles, and when you finally drop it? You made sure to give it a shake, glancing up just in time to see Patrick get knocked on his ass by a teammate too busy staring at you. You smirk. “Eyes up, quarterback! ”You shout, sweet satisfaction warming your chest.

Patrick looks up from the grass, hair sticking to his forehead, glare sharp, but that grin returns, eyes locked on you like a message that he's saying something like he likes the show you just presented in his eyes.

You let out a slow breath and feel the heaviness of it from the stretches you just made. You roll your shoulders back as you shake out your legs, the last of the stretching done. Your team is already breaking off into small groups, just waiting for Tashi before doing the whole stunt and practice. Some of them are already practicing jumps and going over counts.

When you hear the footsteps behind you, you're still smirking and satisfied by the little comment you made. “Did I miss the entertainment?” Tashi’s voice cuts in, already laced with authority and sharp with amusement as she drops her bag on the grass. She’s already in her practice skirt, hair tied up. She looks at you and notices how pumped you are today compared to the previous days. And she looks over at the football team with that unimpressed tilt of her head.

“You missed your star quarterback getting laid out,” you say with a chuckle as you brush the grass off your legs. “Perfect timing.”

Tashi hums like she already knows this is one of Patrick's stunts again to be insufferable. She pulls a scrunchie tighter around her ponytail. “Well, look at that. You have new friends.”

You quickly look at her before rolling your eyes and scoffing at her sarcastic comment. “Your ex needs a volume dial. So fucking annoying. God, I am literally this close to choking him, you know? He thinks he's like all mighty and makes comments like that as if he's someone who has authority over me,” you just mutter without stopping and without realizing you said all of that.

Tashi snorts. “Calm your ass down,” she grounds you before she sighs. She turns in time to see Patrick shove himself upright. He looks like muttering a quiet complaint to the guys nearby. She licks her upper lip before her lips pull into a thin line, like she has seen this scenario before. “Trust me, he’s all noise.”

You look at the boys just in time to see Art catch a pass. His arms are clean and steady as he pulls the ball in. He turns sharply before tossing it back, easy and smooth. That was one good pass . It really caught your attention, and he’s good; you can’t deny it. He looks so serious and dedicated to the sport. The way he moves is focused and precise. Almost perfect. He's like thinking ten steps ahead while everyone else is still yelling.

So you go another route of pissing off Patrick. “Nice one, Art!” You call out, letting your voice carry, bright and clear. You'll just cheer for his best friend instead of giving him attention.

Patrick’s head snaps toward you instantly when he hears your loud voice. His eyes narrow, jaw tightening around the mouthguard he’s chewing. He's like biting it so hard, you can almost see it. When Art looks up, it's so endearing because he has that little facial expression at what you just shouted; maybe it's shock or something else, but you are sure he blushed at that. He brushes a hand through his sweaty hair out of his face before he gives you a quick nod when he glances at you with a shy smile flashing.

Tashi hums as she watches the scene unfold in front of her with a smirk curling her lips and one brow lifted. “Oh, good luck. You want it messy.” She just shakes her head while enjoying everything- especially seeing Patrick react too quickly.

“Oh, come on,” Patrick shouts, and it's laced with something else. But you are not sure yet what it is. You just watch him throw his arms out to the side. “You’re seriously going to cheer for him?”

You shrug, stretching your arms overhead one last time just to make your shirt ride up just enough to catch Patrick staring at the little skin showing before he glares and he turns back to his team. “What? I’m just being supportive like a good cheerleader.”

Patrick throws the next ball too hard, and it bounces off one of his teammates’ hands with a slap. Dear Lord. The poor guy winced so hard he almost shouted at Patrick but just breathed through it.

You can’t help the satisfied grin that tugs at your mouth when he does that. Oh, boy. This will be fun. Real, real fun, and you will surely enjoy every piece of it. And Tashi’s smirk widens as she glances between you and the field before shaking her head. “They’re both no good,” she mutters under her breath, loud enough for you alone to hear.

You huff a small laugh, rolling your eyes as you glance back at Patrick, and you almost giggle at how pissed he looks because he's sending daggers at Art through his eyes like he’s plotting his death. A few seconds pass before he glances back at you, with that same heat and warning in his eyes.

“No shit,” you murmur before shrugging, shifting your weight again as your eyes flick between Art and Patrick, “I’m starting to see what’s going on.”

Tashi just sighs and opens her clipboard before giving you one last glance, and she heads off to check the other girls. You know you should help, but your eyes- you keep looking at Art. He just has this flushed face, and his cheeks look so- you want to pinch them. Or bite them. You watch him catch the ball with ease and cleanliness in it.

You put both of your hands on each side of your mouth and call out, “Let’s go, Art! You’ve got it!” Your voice made his head look up fast. He almost dropped the ball before he managed to recover. There was this shy, crooked smile you like to see. Patrick’s head snaps toward you, eyes sharp under messy curls.

If looks can kill, you're already dead. “Are you serious right now?” Patrick shouts at you. You just grin and tilt your head to the side. “Come on, Art! That was clean! You’re killing it!” You shout again just to taunt Patrick, and his jaw tightens as he spins to glare at Art, who enjoys your praise even though he's looking all shy. “Jesus Christ,” Patrick mutters, turning back to the huddle, throwing sharper now.

But this big mouth of yours can't just stop, so you keep going, letting your voice out. Your cheerful voice.

“Nice pass, Art! ”

“You’re doing well! ”

“Good hands! ”

“Perfect catch! ”

And each one of them just made Patrick's eyes go back to you before barking the next play, throwing too hard, the ball smashing hard into palms. A pass bounces off a receiver’s hands. You chuckle at that as you tilt your head with a smirk forming on your lips. “What’s the matter, quarterback? Can’t handle a little encouragement for your team?” Patrick stalks closer, helmet under his arm, sweat sticking to his dark curls.

“You’re seriously going to stand there and scream for him while I’m running this practice?” Of course, you would. Just to spite him after the comment he made earlier. He should taste his own medicine even though it's not outright insulting him. You straighten, hand on your hip, letting your voice turn sweet.

“Aww, are you jealous?” Your words are voiced out with sweetness, but clearly they’re said to mock him, and Patrick’s glare falters before his eyes drop down your body, then back up, frustrated. Art gives you a thumbs up as he jogs past, and you can’t help the way your smile grows when Patrick’s jaw locks even tighter. He mutters something as he turns away, but not before shooting you a look that promises he’ll get even.

Tashi reappears, whistling, clipboard under her arm. “You’re playing with fire,” she says, eyes flicking between you and Patrick’s tense shoulders. You shrug, arms crossing, watching Art throw you one last shy glance before turning away. “Yeah,” you murmur. You already know that. It makes you thrilled actually to get back at him even just a little. It’s like a success to get a reaction out of him. There is a playful smile lingering on your mouth as you roll your shoulders back, and you are eyeing both of them. “But he started it.“

…

You finished out practice. Doing the routine a million times until it was perfect just like Tashi wanted. After showering and changing in the locker room, you head out to make you way to your car. Before you can open your car door, a familiar blond makes his way over to you. He’s shirtless now, sweaty t-shirt long discarded somewhere halfway through practice. His hair is drenched in sweat. Making his golden curls appear more bronze.

He has that small half smile on his face, mimicking the one from earlier, “Thanks for that back there. At practice.”

Smile spreading across your face, “I meant it. You’re really good.”

“It’s okay, I know you were just trying to piss Patrick off. Even if you didn’t mean it, it was fun to watch him not get what he wanted,” he shrugs.

You drop your duffle bag on the floor before taking a step closer to him, “I meant every word I said. You should be the team captain,” flitting your eyes up to meet his blue ones. Pressing a hand against his exposed chest, chilled from the sweat cooling him down. Sliding your hand down to let your fingertips graze over his muscles stopping just above the waistband of his shorts.

Blush blooming on his cheeks as he makes eye contact with you, “U-um thanks,” he clears his throat trying hard to focus on your face and ignore the feeling of your hand on his body so he doesn’t get too excited, “There’s gonna be a party tomorrow at our frat house, to celebrate the end of the season. You should come.” He takes a second before adding on, “You can bring the whole team if you want. Even Tashi. I know she and Patrick aren’t speaking but I don’t really care.”

He didn’t want to seem to forward, like he was asking you out. So he invited the whole cheerleading team. Even though he does want to ask you out. Clearly he isn’t reading the situation any different from you but he also still hasn’t been able to decipher if you really like him or you just want to get to Patrick by using him. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl has done that before.

“I’ll be there.” You slowly drag your eyes down his body so that he knows you’re checking him out, when you spot the tent in his shorts, “I-I’m sorry. I don’t usually—“

You cut him off, “It’s fine.” You let your fingers graze ever so slightly over his hardness before walking backwards towards your car, “Maybe I can help you out with that at the party tomorrow.”

He watches as you bend down to pick up your bag and make your way to your car. Holding his stare as he watches you drive off. Fuck.

…

They won the championship game. No shock there since they’ve been undefeated for two seasons in a row now. Most people would attribute that to Fire and Ice, the perfect duo. Best friends? Secret lovers? Frenemies with homoerotic tendencies? Who cares. They were the best quarterback and wide receiver duo in their conference.

After inviting the team to the after party, Tashi pulled you aside to say, “You sure this is how you wanna play this?”

Shrugging, you lean against the locker in the locker room, “I’m having fun.”

She nods tightly, pushing her hair back behind your ear, “Have all the fun you want,” She says with a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Then she continues, smile dropping resuming her usual neutral facial expression, “Don’t bring that shit to my practice again.”

…

Later that night, you make your way to the party with a few other people from the cheer team. Showered and changed from your sweaty cheer uniform into something more party friendly, a black mini skirt and pink halter top.

The frat house is packed. People littered all over the front lawn and porch, so you can only imagine how many more people are inside. Music pounding, loud enough to hear from the outside. Before you can try the door to see if it’s unlocked, it swings open to reveal a clearly tipsy Patrick Zweig.

Despite the tiff you guys had yesterday, he’s still smug. Black Ray Bans framing his face, why he’s wearing sunglasses inside is beyond you. Smirk spreading across his face, “Miss me already?”

You roll your eyes scoffing, “You gonna let us in or what?”

Sliding his glasses down the bridge of nose before he steps to the side, letting you and your friends walk in. Making sure that you know he’s looking you up and down.

Your friends continue making their way into the party when Patrick grabs your wrist, “C’mon let me get you a drink.”

His hands are…big. Bigger than you remember. You weren’t really looking before anyway. But now that his hand was almost engulfing yours, it was hard to miss. Stomach twisting in a way you didn’t want to admit to yourself. Your eyes locked on to where his hand was holding onto your wrist for just a second too long has him saying, “You know what they say about big hands…”

Yanking your hand out of his grip, shaking your head no, “It’s feet. Where’s Art?”

Grabbing your arm again to pull you into him, colliding with the solid muscles of his chest. He huffs, “He can’t fuck you right. I know he can’t. He’ll finish in two minutes. I promise you don’t want him. Let me take care of you,” mumbling as his hand finds your waist and his lips graze your ear.

A shiver runs up your spine, goosebumps peppering your skin. No. You can’t do this. Not here. And definitely not with Patrick. Snaking your hand through his curls to pull him away from you by his hair. Looking directly in his green eyes, pointing to your lips to emphasize the words you’re about to say, “Not. Gonna. Happen.”

You don’t stay to watch his reaction. Turning your back to him to walk away, barely hearing as he calls out, He can’t fuck you like I can!

Yeah you need a drink.

That’s where you find Art. In the kitchen, backwards baseball cap on with curls spilling out the sides. Leaning against a wall, red solo cup in hand as he laughs at something. Eyes bright, posture relaxed. Very different from the sharp precision and focus he brought to football practice.

He’s talking to another guy, you’ve seen him before but can’t place where. Maybe he’s also on the team. Then his eyes fall on you. He keeps a small smile on his face as he excuses himself from his conversation to make his way over to you.

“You made it,” He smiles fully this time. A little giggly too, maybe he’s also tipsy.

You nod, his smile contagious. He looked almost radiant, basking in the afterglow of winning the championship final.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Wanted to see our star wide receiver in his element.”

He quirks his eyebrow, laughing some more, “You think this is my element? Frat parties?”

Shrugging and taking another sip, chewing on the lip of your plastic solo cup, “I mean you are a frat bro right? This is your frat?”

“Something like that. I mean Patrick’s the president, I’m just treasurer,” he shrugs finishing off his drink.

Hearing Patrick’s name irked you. It made your skin crawl and your stomach drop. Reminding you of the wet spot formed in your panties from when he grabbed you earlier. But you don’t wanna think about Patrick.

You want to focus on Art. The cute way his ears stick out and he smiles out the right side of his mouth. The way his t-shirt stretches perfectly over his biceps. And that hat. The backwards hat was doing a lot for him. You want to take it off of him. Along with all his other clothes. Well actually maybe the hat can stay on.

Stepping closer to stand on your tippy toes and lean by his ear. Pressing your hand on his chest to balance yourself, “Can we go somewhere quieter?”

He nods enthusiastically before leading you upstairs. Weaving you through crowds of people, around people on the staircase, and random people making out or passed out in the upstairs hallway. Unlocking his room door to lead you inside.

“I keep it locked during parties because I don’t want people having sex in here,” he over explains.

His room is neat. Almost too neat. Too neat for a guy his age anyway. Bed is perfectly spread, desk is orderly. Even his closet looked well organized from what you could see. Trophies and medals lined the top of his dresser, all for football, but awarded for various reasons. You take your time looking through them reading things like “Most Improved” and “Offensive Player of the Year”.

“How long have you played?” You look back at where he’s sat on the side of his bed, watching you intently.

“Almost 12 years now, started in middle school.”

“With Patrick?” Internally cursing your mind for bringing him up right now.

He nods, “Yeah we both tried out together and made the team. Three years after that he ended up playing quarterback in 8th grade, even though that was position I was gunning for. But we worked so well together with me as wide receiver it’s just been that way ever since.”

“Sounds like Patrick.”

He snorts in response to your comment, “I mean I've gotten over it obviously.”

“So quarterbacks throw the ball and wide receivers…catch the ball?” You ask, making your way over to sit next to him on his bed. Making sure your thighs touched his.

“Yeah you get the gist,” he smiles.

Running a hand through his blond curls, making sure to scratch his scalp lightly. He leans into your touch letting his eyes slip closed for only a second. Blinking back open to meet your eyes. Briefly flickering down to stare at your lips.

Keeping your hand in his hair to crash your mouths together. It’s sloppy and anticipated from all the tension in the room. Tugging at his hair lightly to pull a moan out of him. He likes hair pulling, got it.

Fully exploring each other’s mouths as your tongue licks into his mouth and his into yours. You pull your shirt off exposing your nipples to the cool air. Art only stares for a second before connecting your lips again and tweaking one of your nipples between his fingers while groping a handful of boob on the other hand.

You pull away to ask, “Can I suck you off?”

He nods dumbly, taking off his hat to pull off his shirt and his shorts and briefs in one go. When he goes to sit against his headboard, you crawl between his legs on all fours.

“You’re already fully hard from just a little kissing and touching, that’s cute.”

He stretches his arms, interlacing his hands behind his head, “M’sorry I just—fuck.” Getting cut off by you lapping your tongue around his pink tip swollen with arousal.

Sinking down until your nose reaches his public hair. It’s neatly trimmed which would have surprised you if you didn’t already notice how his legs were also completely hairless. You wonder how often he shaves.

Bobbing your head up and down while using your free hand to work his balls. He’s whimpering and moaning a lot. Involuntarily bucking his hips up into your mouth from time to time, mumbling out apologies.

You pull off to let him know it’s okay, about to offer for him to fuck your mouth if he really wants to until the his bedroom door creaks open.

The man you could never seem to escape in your brain or in the real world, makes his way into Art’s room without a care in the world, “And what do we have here?”

You stay in your place, not wanting him to think you’re frazzled even the slightest. Art speaks up, a bitter edge in his tone, “Fuck off Patrick, we’re busy.”

“Well that much I can see,” he creeps towards the bed, eyes staring at where your panties are exposed under your skirt since you’re still on all fours, “Let me join, promise you wont regret it.”

Words piecing together in your brain to decide what you should say to Patrick when Art replies again, “Can’t you just let me have this?”

You keep your hand gripping the base of his cock, not sure if you should let go or keep going. You’d ignore Patrick’s presence completely if you could.

“C’mon,” he drags out. He lets his fingers glide over the wet spot on your panties, pressing softly to test the water. Your body reacts before your brain can and you pushing against him. He moves your panties to the side to slip one finger into your tight heat. You groan pressing back against him, “See she likes it.”

Not being able to tell if he’s talking about you or referring directly to your hole angers you as much as it turns you on. “Fine. Is that cool with you?” Art asks.

You nod before adding, “Can you at least make yourself useful and use your tongue?”

You can already hear the smug in Patrick’s voice. He bends down, using one hand to keep you panties pulled to the side. Using the other hand to keep your pussy lips spread as he licks inside you. Slow and with the perfect amount of pressure. Alternating from licking across your clit, to plunging his tongue into your hole.

You press your head against Art’s thigh when Patrick starts eating you out like it’s the last meal on earth. Drool pours in Art’s before you feel him guiding his cock back on your mouth, and you gladly take it, sucking off the tip. The base wrapped around you hands him, ass grinding to Patrick while he suckles on your hole. His fingers rubbing your clit in a circular motion. Hand brushing your hair out of your face. Art’s eyes were looking down at you, admiring the view laid out in front of him.

Patrick’s tongue drags over your clit again, slow and firm, pulling a ragged moan from your throat that you swallowed back around Art’s cock. Thighs starting to shake, tongues making wet sounds that mix from your whine and Art’s broken whimpers from you licking and sucking his tip.

“Shit. S-Shit. Keep going, please,” Art babbles, and his hand grips in your hair, but he’s now thrusting up to fuck your mouth, hips twitching as you continue to suck him. Patrick chuckles behind you, his fingers slipping back inside your pussy that’s clenching around nothing, and it just lures him back in. He sucks hard enough that your hips jerk. “She’s so fucking wet for it, Art,” he says, letting his breath blow in front of your cunt, sending shivers up your spine. You pull off Art with a pop. Spit, making a string from your lips to his flushed tip, panting as Patrick’s fingers curl just right. It presses against that spot that makes you roll your eyes. “Fuck, Patrick-”

“Sounds so good when you say my name like that,” Patrick says before he presses his lips to give a kiss to your inner thigh. He licks you back up in slow motion from there to your clit, and that makes your ass grind back against his face. He’s enjoying getting suffocated by it; he even wants you to press it more. Patrick’s other hand is latched on your hips to keep you pinned down and steady. He makes sure to hold you close to his mouth and open as he works his tongue, and flicks it against your clit continuously.

Art’s hand goes back to your hair and brushes it out from your face. Chest rises and falls while he catches his breath. His blue eyes are wide, and his pupils dilate darkly as he looks down at you. “You look so pretty like this,” he praises you. You feel his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. He’s staring at you while you suck his thumb into your mouth and moaning as Patrick’s tongue thrusts into your pussy.

You whimper around Art’s thumb, teething on it, and you can feel your walls clenching around Patrick’s tongue. The smug satisfaction he has is so evident because of the little noises you let out. Your hips keep rocking back on his face unintentionally, showing that you are desperate for more. Patrick pulls back; his lips are shiny like they have a gloss on them, but your slick is the material, and he smirks when you whine at the loss. “Needy,” he teases, giving your ass a sharp smack that stings a little because of the hard impact. You are sure he did that on purpose.

There’s a rustle when he took off his shirt, and the sound of metal came from his belt being unbuckled. When you turned your head and looked over your shoulder, you saw Patrick standing naked. His body looks good; there are toned lines in his stomach and chest. You can see those little hairs that start from his navel that trail downwards. His dark eyes gaze down at your body.

The skirt still bunched around your waist, panties are pulled aside, and he clicks his tongue. “These need to come off,” he said while his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your thighs. He intentionally makes his knuckles brush your slick folds as he pulls them all the way off.

Patrick takes a moment, his thumb pressing against your swollen clit, and watches you flinch before he throws the soaked fabric he’s holding on the floor. After a few moments, his hands move to your skirt, pulling it down, leaving you completely naked on all fours between him and Art. With that, his hand wraps around his cock, his eyes locked on your pussy and how it clenches around nothing. He can see the way slick drips down to your thighs, making him just want to lick it. “Fuck, take a look at that,” he mutters. “You’re ready, aren’t you?”

Your lower lip is caught between your teeth before you glance over your shoulder, hair sticking to your cheek, breath shaking. “I want you both,” you admit without any shame from saying it. “At the same time.” Patrick’s eyes flick to Art’s like they’re talking to each other silently, and maybe a challenge is passing between them. Art swallows, hand wrapping around his flushed cock, precum smearing across his thumb. “Are you sure you can take it, pretty girl?” Stomach pulling in tight ropes when you heard how soft he said that, and a smirk formed on your lips before you said, “Try me.”

The two of them quickly moved around, and you did too. It’s like they already planned it in the way they switched their positions. Patrick is now on the bed and lying down, and Art is on the edge of the bed like he’s waiting for something. Patrick pats his thigh. “C’mere, baby.” It didn’t take a minute before you crawled over, straddling him, cunt hovering over his cock as your hands palmed flat on his chest.

Behind you, Art’s hands slide up and down, caressing your thighs while he moves to kneel on the bed. Patrick’s thumb brushes your clit, making you jumpy. “Look at you,” he mutters. “So fucking ready.” Art bends down a little before he presses a kiss to your spine. “You’re going to take us both,” he says, and the excitement is evident from his voice. “Going to let us fill you up.”

Fingers tracing Patrick’s chest before you nod and take a deep breath. “Yeah,” you mutter, “I can take it,” Patrick smirks. He rocks your hips to make you grind and slide your folds on his cock while Art presses his chest to your back. Lips still kissing your spine with his cock nudging your ass and precum smearing against the skin. “You’re going to take us both, huh?” he rasps before thumbing your clit. “Gonna let us stretch you open?” Your hands dig into his chest as you nod. “Please,” you whimper.

His hands are cold but steady as he holds you down while Patrick’s cock remains lined up, ready to put it inside you. Both eyes watch you when Patrick’s cock continues to slide between your folds and Art’s doing the same behind you. “Hold her,” Patrick mutters. Art hums, gripping your waist with his left hand before he holds out his right hand in front of Patrick’s mouth and spits into Art’s hand. A shiver runs down your skin as Art brings his slick hand between your cheeks, his thumb rubbing slow circles around your tight hole. His other hand presses between your shoulder blades to push you more down to Patrick’s chest. “Relax for me,” Art murmurs.

Patrick’s finger teases your clit with your thighs already shaking. Art leans down just to spit directly onto your hole before working it in with slow circles so he can press a finger. Patrick grins, cock nudging your entrance and pushing in before just pulling back quickly. Clearly, he’s teasing you. “That’s it, baby,” he rasps, “let him get you ready.” Art pushes deeper, slow, stretching you open as you whimper, adding another finger, scissoring them, and the burn mixing with need pooling low.

You can feel Patrick’s cock twitch under you and him leaking against your folds as his finger continues to circle your clit. “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he groans, eyes flicking between your cunt and Art’s fingers working your ass open. Art leans in, murmuring, “Are you ready for us?” That earns a whine from you, and eyes flutter, breath shaking as you nod. “Yeah,” you whisper, “I need you both.” Art keeps moving his fingers in your hole, and your thighs tremble; the burning feeling from him preparing your hole to get fucked is turning to hot, aching need. Patrick’s cock slides through your folds with every rock of your hips just to get pleasure from the pain of having Art’s finger inside, teasing without giving in.

The hand lifts, fingers hooked inside, and Art’s palm is out toward Patrick again. “Spit.” There’s a smirk on his lips before he leans forward to let thick saliva drip directly into Art’s palm. He rubs it between his fingers as he glances at you. “Your turn.” Heat flares in your cheeks as you lean down and spit into his hand, mixing with Patrick’s. Art hums, looking satisfied, as he rubs the mess across your hole, and slick drips run down your thighs. “Good girl,” he murmurs, spitting again directly in your hole before pressing deeper, stretching you open, and Patrick continues to circle your clit.

“Relax,” Art whispers, kissing your shoulder, and he continues to work you open. Hips twitching, pressing back to his digit that feels more slick and pleasurable now. Patrick’s cock nudges your entrance, slipping in before pulling back, making you whine. “Please,” you breathe. Hair falling around your face as you cling to Patrick’s shoulders. “Please, I want it.” Patrick’s eyes meet Art’s before he grins, and his cock twitches under you. “Are you ready, sweetheart?” he asks with his voice sounding rough. Art slides his fingers out, watching your rim clench around nothing and spitting one last time just to rub it in slow circles. “She’s ready,” Art says, hands gripping your hips.

Art shifts, lining up, the hard head of his cock pressing against your wet rim that makes your breath catch and mind go hazy. You feel the stretch and the burn as he pushes in and wrecks you open. Your hand grips the sheet, and the other is held by Patrick, legs trembling. “Breathe, baby,” Art murmurs, his warm hand steady on your hip. You exhale shakily as the thick slide of him pushes past your tight ring inch by inch. Your body pulsing around him. “There you go,” he bottoms out, buried already.

He holds you there, just letting you adjust with your hips twitching helplessly. Your forehead latches down to Patrick’s shoulder with a whimper slips out from your mouth. His hand still between your thighs as he continues to work his thumb against your clit in a slow and teasing circles that makes your pussy clench. You know he’s doing it just to ease the pain from Art’s cock. “Good girl,” he says, stroking himself between your bodies as he watches you tremble, slick dripping down your thighs. He lines up, tip brushing through your folds. The heat makes you twitch. “Think you can take me too?” he asks, voice low.

Head nodding at his question, breath hitching, and a choked moan leaving your lips before your hips rock back. You are desperate. Patrick grins, kisses your shoulder, and then presses forward. You feel the head of his cock slipping inside your cunt. The stretch doubles as your body clamps around him. “F-fuck,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut, and he sinks deeper. Bodies fluttering around both of them, just minds blank from the fullness pressing inside. Patrick pauses, forehead dropping to his head while his hands grip your waist.

“Doing good, baby,” praises come from Art’s mouth, his lips brushing your back, and his breath warm against your skin. Patrick shifts his hips slightly, watching your eyes flutter. “Yeah,” he adds, voice rough, “just like that.” Your breath catches, tears pooling in your eyes, hips rocking upwards, trembling as you silently beg them to move already.

Art rubs circles into your hips, pressing kisses to your nape as he starts to move, pulling back before easing in again. It’s slow and careful to let you feel every inch. “You’re doing so good for us,” he murmurs, and you feel the drag of his cock in your hole while your walls clench around Patrick. A choked moan breaks free from your throat, hips pushing back and chasing friction as your vision blurs.

Patrick laughs softly, rolling his hips shallowly inside your soaked cunt. It’s such a sight, both of them sandwiching you between them. It’s filthy and hot at the same time. Like a fantasy dreamland for you to get stuffed at the same time. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out, lips brushing on your forehead like he’s kissing you for being good. “You like this, huh? Stuffed full, crying for us?” Your hips jerk, pleasure spiking more with Patrick’s words. Walls fluttering around him while Art presses deep. Heat pools low in your belly, and Art’s hand slides up your spine to ground you. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, “you’re perfect like this.”

Lips pressed against your shoulder, teeth catching your skin as Patrick rocks in deeper, his breath hitching. “Bet you’re gonna come so fast like this,” he teases, “stuffed full, dripping all over me.” Your hands clutch his shoulders. Tears start to slip free as pleasure twists with the burn, your body trembling as they stretch you open. Patrick’s hips snap harder, the slap of skin loud, making you cry out. “A-ahh- Patrick-” you moan out, pussy clenching down around him. “C’mon, don’t tell me you can’t take it,” he mutters, grinning as he watches you fall apart. “Don’t try to run away now, you asked for this,” he teases.

He’s clearly way different than Art because he wants to push your buttons more by saying those humiliating words even though your pussy is already wrapped around his cock. Your glare is shaky, teeth sinking into your lip, hips rocking back anyway. “Shut up,” you snap, voice trembling as heat coils tighter inside you. Art’s hands tighten on your hips, grounding you as he keeps a slow, deep pace in your ass while Patrick’s sharp thrusts jolt you forward. “You’re okay,” Art whispers near your ear, peppering kisses on your back.

“Doing so good, baby.” He holds you steady as you melt around him, the burn turning to twitching and pleasure as he pins you down, building you up with every thrust. “Shit… Look at you,” Patrick pants, cock dragging against your walls until your eyes roll back and body shakes as you gasp. Art cradles your jaw, pressing a kiss to your temple, thumb brushing your cheek. “Just focus on me,” he murmurs, hips rolling deep behind you and Patrick also thrusting up. “You’re okay, pretty girl,” Patrick mutters, voice laced with mocking as he mirrors how Art says it.

Sweat drips as he thrusts harder, your glare breaking into a cry. “Fuck, you’re close, aren’t you?” Patrick taunts, slamming his cock in deep just to watch your mouth drop open, a choked moan spilling out. Head nodding, thighs trembling, another soft, breathless “nngh-mmm… shit- a-ah” breaking loose as your breath catches on each thrust. The sound inside the room is like porn you’d watch online: clap, clap, clap, wet slaps echoing, your sweet, high-pitched whimpers mixing with the rhythm.

Art’s hand slides down your belly, fingers brushing your clit without pressing, teasing until your hips buck with a needy gasp, a cracked “please- please-” falling from your lips. “Easy, baby,” he whispers, lips pressing to your neck as you let out another “mmm-h-hah…oh-” your voice all wrecked and cockdrunk. “Show me how good you can be.” Your eyes flutter, tears sticking to your lashes as you try to focus on Art’s calm voice while Patrick pounds that spot that makes your thighs quake.

“God, look at her,” Patrick scoffs. Fingers dig into your hips, forcing you down until your thighs burn, his thumb flicking your nipple until it’s stiff and aching, the air making it sting before heat rushes back. “Fucking desperate, huh?” he adds, sweat dripping as he thrusts up hard, a sharp slap of skin meeting skin, forcing a broken moan from your lips. “Fuck- fuck you,” you whimper, voice cracking, glare glossy with tears as your hips twitch, trying to lift off him, trying to get away, but your body betrays you and you are trapped between their bodies.

Art sinks you back down, clenching around them so hard, and it makes a slick, messy squelch, wet dripping down to their balls. “I fucking- ah- hate you,” you hiss, but the message is for Patrick, the words shaking. Tears slip down your cheek as your thighs tremble violently. A hand slides up your spine, brushing sweaty hair off your face, Art’s mouth pressing warm and soft to your shoulder. “Don’t listen to him,” Art tries to calm you down, voice low, his thumb circling your clit in slow circles that make your hips jerk.

Breath catching in a high-pitched gasp, mouth falls open, and there’s a choked sob tumbling out before you can swallow it. “S-stop- d-don’t-” you stutter, but your hips keep rocking. Keep grinding down on Patrick’s cock, your body begging for more even as your glare cuts at him. “Yeah?” Patrick grunts, and his hand grips your thigh harder as he thrusts up again. It’s deeper, making your breath shatter into another squeak. “Is that why you’re dripping all over me, princess?” Another desperate cry breaks out of you. Glare folding into a helpless, needy moan as your eyes roll back and your hands claw at Art’s arms to ground yourself.

“Shut up- shut the fuck up-” you gasp, voice thin and fucked, but your cunt clenches again, loud and wet. Your body trembles as Art’s thumb drags across your clit, pressing down just enough to make you whimper. “H-hate you- hate you-” you cry, hips still rocking helplessly, unable to stop. Your mouth dropping open with another high, wet moan, and spit dripping from your lip onto your chest. “Keep lying to yourself,” Patrick growls. Your sweat drips onto your belly as his cock grinds deep, which pulls another sob out of you: “Pussy’s telling the truth.”

Your glare melts into a broken, pathetic noise, nails digging into Art’s forearm as your body keeps taking it, dripping and clenching, hatred curling into hot, helpless need as you choke out, “F-fuck you- ugh- fuck-” Patrick’s hand grips your thigh before he pulls back just enough to slam back in at the same time as Ary does, the movement making you jolt with a strangled cry. “Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, hips jerking, “keep squeezing us like that.” Your breath breaks with a sob catching in your throat as your body shakes. “Pat,” Art warns him, voice low. His fingers are still circling your clit and making your hips twitch. “You want her to cum before we’re close?”

“Maybe I do,” Patrick smirks, and that earned a glare from Art, but he just thrust his hips deeper, hitting that spot that makes your legs quake. Your head drops backwards, and Art holds you to balance your body, and there’s a strangled sound when clenched around Patrick. You are trembling, held open and ready to break. Nipples brush against Patrick’s hands, clit throbbing under Art’s touch, and cunt clenching around Patrick as he keeps fucking up into you, deep and sharp. Both of them make you cry out. “Easy, sweetheart,” Art gently murmurs, thumb working soft circles on your clit that make your legs twitch. “Don’t come yet, okay? You can wait for me.” Patrick grunts when he hears what Art said, “Hear that, princess? Hold it. Be a good girl for him.”

Your thighs shake, your breath catches, you are stuffed and trembling, and teetering on the edge. They keep you between them, wet and aching, and ready to fall apart. Art slides out slowly. Your ass clenches before he pushes back in deeper, hips flush, and holds you steady as you gasp. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, rocking in slow, deep grinds that make your walls flutter around Patrick’s cock. Patrick drags against your sweet spot, making you cockdrunk for the two of them. A strangled moan tearing from your throat. “Fuckin’ greedy, aren’t you?” he rasps, his hips punching up, your cunt slick and loud with every thrust.

Art keeps a steady grind, thumb brushing your lower back. The heat keeps building, and your body shivering as they keep you pinned. “Shit,” Patrick groans, his fingers digging into your hips. “She’s so tight every time you move, Art,” Patrick mutters as he watches Art lean down, kissing your shoulder. “You like it, don’t you? Letting us use you like this.” Patrick adds and there’s a satisfied smirk on his lips when you nod.

Tears slipping from the pressure and heat, every nerve awakens as they keep you trembling, and stuffed so full from their cocks. You can’t think and just let obscene wet sounds happen as your clit drags against Patrick with every push. Your body feels like it’s going to break, thighs quaking, breath ragged as they deny you, building you up until your body begs.

Patrick keeps thrusting up harder, hitting so deep your vision blurs, your hips jerking back into Art as he fucks your ass in slow, heavy rolls. Each push makes your hole even more stretched, and breath catching in your throat. “C’mon, princess,” Patrick pants, sweat dripping down his temples, “Gonna cum for me already?” Art’s hand presses between your shoulder blades to keep you steady as he leans down. He’s pushing in deep with a controlled exhale, hips rolling smoothly and pelvis hitting your ass that makes it jiggle. “Don’t rush her,” Art mutters, pulling out nearly to the tip before sinking back in. Patrick scoffs before dragging his thumb back over your clit. “Yeah, let’s see it.”

Your knees buckle, mouth dropping open, drool falling on Patrick’s chest as you let out a sharp, high-pitched “nnh-ah-mhm-fuh…fuck,” with your eyes rolling back. You look good with your lashes damp with tears and can’t properly open your eyes. “Yeah, look how well she’s taking it,” Patrick taunts with a big smug smile on his lips as his eyes lock on your face, watching you tremble.

“You’re dripping, baby. That desperate?” You try to glare at him when he said that, but it breaks on a hiccupped, “N-no… hah-ah- nghh p-please-” Your hips jolting as Patrick’s thumb circles your clit in slow, mean swipes that make you jolt jumpy and thrusting back at Art’s cock. You feel your thighs trembling while you take two cocks in your body.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Art soothes you, brushing your hair off your sweaty face, pressing a soft kiss to your nape. Just hearing his warm and calm voice makes you crumble. Patrick’s thrusts get hurried like he has a mission to squeeze out cries from your throat. The wet slap of skin from the three of you echoes inside the room.

“Gonna come for him, huh? Not for me?” Patrick asks, hand gripping your hip hard. Art’s hand cups your breast, groping it. His thumb brushes your nipple as he fills your ass in slow thrusts and forces you get down onto Patrick’s cock until you’re taking all of him. “She’ll come for both of us,” Art corrected his voice low against your ear but enough for Patrick to hear it too. Lips brushing your skin, and chest pressing to your back like he’s molding himself into you. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

You can only babble, “please- please- it’s too much- hahh- c-can’t- so f-full-” hips grinding down helplessly as you feel your release coming and your body a trembling mess. “Don’t you fucking dare hold back,” Patrick snarls, slamming up so hard your vision sparks. Body jolting and their cocks making you spill out, “ah h-hah- fuck- p-please… please… so deep- ” with your spit glossing your lips.

“Want to see you cum, baby.” Art’s breath is warm in your ear. “Let go, baby. We’ve got you.” There’s no stopping it. You know you are close with the way your body locking up, cunt squeezing around Patrick’s cock, ass spasming around Art’. It doesn't take long before your entire body shakes violently as your orgasm rips through you. “Nngh- fuck- oh g-god- ah…!” you scream, head falling down and almost hiding in Patrick’s body.

Can’t help your eyes rolling as slick gushes around Patrick’s cock, dripping onto his balls. Thighs shaking uncontrollably as they hold you down, letting you cum and shake between them. “Fuck, that’s it,” Patrick growls, thrusts stuttering. His cock twitching in your pussy before he spills deep inside you. His hips keep moving voice shaking while he stuff more of him inside, “Shit… f-fuck, take it- take it-” Art’s thrusts pick up slightly when Patrick finishes, pressing deep as his thumb find your clit again, and making you sob, “P-please… no more- c-can’t… it’s too much,” overstimulated, but your cunt and ass keep clenching, milking them.

“Shh… that’s a good girl,” Art murmurs, pressing his forehead to your shoulder while he sinks in deep. His hips rolling and pelvis deep as he lets go, cock pulsing inside your ass. He groans, low and controlled, “God- yeah… just like that,” his hand smoothing over your stomach, grounding you while shaking through it. Body is pinned between them.

You are boneless already with your body twitching as cum drips out, and sweat cooling on your spine. The room is filled with your soft fucked-out whimpers, broken sobs, and their low rough curses as they ride out their highs inside you. After taking some minutes, they let you drown. You’re soaking Patrick’s stomach, slick dripping down his balls, your body limp.

They pull out together, your cunt clenching around nothing. The cum from your pussy and ass starts running down your thighs while your legs nearly give out. But Art manages to catch you, lifting you while Patrick slides out of the bed. Both of them handle you gently now, laying you on the bed, hair fanned out. Your chest heaving as you stare up, glassy-eyed. Patrick spreads your thighs, eyes dark and gaze tracks to the mess on your legs. Art’s hand touches your head and brushes them out of your face before he leans down to kiss your temple down to your nose, jaw, and your lips. His kiss is so soft that it makes you hold him and close your eyes.

Hips twitch when you feel Patrick’s lips on your inner thighs. You don’t even notice him opening your legs and kneeling down to bite and kiss them until you really feel it. His tongue moves from your inner thighs to higher from there and lips brush your mound but don’t go lower, warm breath making your overstimulated cunt clench as Art’s hands rub circles on your stomach. His mouth moves to your chest, sucking softly at your nipple, tongue flicking over it before rolling the other between careful fingers, letting you float and recover from the high.

They don’t rush you, they just let you feel them worshiping your body and not wanting to get another orgasm out of you. Patrick’s mouth just continues to give the mound multiple kisses until he catches Art’s eyes and both of them stop. Then Patrick’s tongue slips out, giving your slit a single, slow lick, making you flinch with a soft gasp. Your hand flying to Art’s curls, gripping them. He pulls off your nipple with a soft smile. “Too much?” he asks. Your breath catches your throat before you shake your head and your thighs keep twitching. “N-No, just-” You don’t really know what to say especially when Patrick starts moving tongue to flick on your clit slowly.

“Look at me,” Art murmurs, tipping your chin up, thumb brushing your lip. “Good girl.” Patrick hums against your cunt, the vibration making you whimper before he pulls back, licking his lips. “She tastes perfect,” he mutters, squeezing your thighs but not taking more. Art’s hand drifts down from your tits and pausing above your belly button. “Let me?” he asks, and Patrick leans back and gives space to Art. “Go ahead.”

Art didn’t waste any time before he positioned himself where Patrick came from and lowered himself. Lips kissing where Patrick’s teeth marked you before giving your cunt a long, slow lick, tongue gentle but firm. You cry out softly, hips lifting before Patrick’s hand presses to your stomach, holding you down, making sure you won’t move much. “That’s it, baby,” Patrick soothes, kissing your forehead. “Let him take care of you.”

Art’s breath is warm on your folds. “Tell us if it’s too much, okay?” You nod, lips trembling. “I-I’m okay.” They share you like this, Art’s tongue moving in slow circles on your clit, not pushing inside your pussy hole, just letting you stay warm and making you gush more. Patrick’s hand drifts over your chest, brushing your nipples, his other hand tangling with yours, squeezing each time you gasp.

Art’s eyes flick to Patrick’s, and like they are talking through their eyes before Patrick leans down, kissing your chest, Art’s mouth lingering on your cunt. They don’t do anything to trigger another orgasm from you, their mouth and tongue moving in controlled motions and doing this just to stay more close and letting you go soft while being held by them. It doesn’t take long when you get tired and your eyes close shut with your body finally coming down from the high, but they didn’t leave you alone in the room like some other assholes would. Patrick kisses your forehead and stops sucking your nipples while Art doesn't lick your clit anymore and just rests his head against your thigh. The three of you just stay together in one room and their attention is just on you.

taglist: @tacobacoyeet @newrochellechallenger2019 @marimacaron @antxnxlla @hanneh69 @urmomsucksfrogs @k4mlg @ctrl-mari @cha11engers @jesuistrestriste @imperishablereverie @shahabaqsa0310 @ghostgirl-22 @artaussi @nozhdyved @asteroid-yuri @sweetheartfaist @jordiemeow @hangels

[fluentmoviequoter]

Break My Rules

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Smitty!reader

Summary: You have a rule not to date men who work with your dad - who just happens to be Quigley Smitty. After becoming friends with Lucy Chen, you meet Tim Bradford and realize that some rules hurt you more than they help you.

Warnings: slight angst, discussion of Tim's past, stress and anxiety (Tim and r), fluff, comfort, very slightly suggestive at the end, softie!Tim, Lucy is a wingwoman

Word Count: 3.8k+ words

> Part 2: No Rules

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Sorry I’m late,” you say, hanging your bag off the back of the chair. Your dad waves off your apology as he stands and pulls you into a hug. “One of my choir students asked for help with her homework after practice and I lost track of time.”

“I remember when you used to ask for homework help,” he muses. “I was pretty good at it, wasn’t I?”

“Sure, you were,” you answer, rolling your eyes playfully. “That’s why Mom told me to stop asking you.”

“She was just jealous.”

“That must be it. How was work?”

“It was normal. Bad guys got arrested.”

“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?”

“That’s why it was normal. No high-speed helicopter chases or unexpected promotions make Smitty a dull boy.”

You nod, opting to peruse the café’s menu rather than commenting. Your relationship with your dad is great, and you enjoy the time you spend together, but he can be a bit… dim. He doesn’t seem to do it on purpose, but you know that he’s aware of how he comes across, and he doesn’t seem to care that he makes himself the punch line. If he’s okay with his reputation, who are you to pick him apart for it?

“Good evening,” the waiter greets, approaching your table. “What can I get started for you tonight?”

You order, then pass your menu to him after your dad finishes. The waiter smiles at you, and you thank him as he walks away.

“He was flirting with you,” your dad points out.

“You think he was flirting with me, but you can’t tell when I’m being serious about picking up the bill?” you challenge. “He’s a waiter, his job relies on his people skills.”

“If you’re not interested in him, let me set you up with a cop. The money isn’t great, and we’re always stressed, but there are one or two who have promising potential.”

“Dad,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I’m not dating cops. I’ve had the rule for years.”

“No dating cops,” he says with you.

“What if I set you up with someone who isn’t from my station?” he offers.

“No. If you know them, I don’t want to date them. That’s like inviting a devastating breakup or lackluster romance.”

“Just because I know them doesn’t mean they’re like me.”

“That’s not what I mean. I just… it’s easier this way. And there’s something to be said for serendipity.”

“Seren-what-ity?”

You sigh and shake your head. “What song should we perform for the state choir show this year?”

“The Real Slim Shady.”

“Why did I ask?” you mumble.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, stepping back from the metal bin before you. “Completely my fault, go ahead.”

“No, no, I wasn’t looking,” the woman beside you replies. “You’re good.”

She has two records tucked in her folded arm, and you nod to communicate your approval of her choices.

“Good taste,” you compliment.

“I got a record player for my birthday, and I’ve been looking for some of the stuff I listened to as a kid and trying to branch out a bit. Try some new things,” she explains. “Based on your outfit alone, I’m guessing that you have good taste too and could offer a few good recommendations? If you have time or want to, of course.”

“Well,” you begin, glancing toward the alphabetized bins. “I’m a sucker for classic rock, but you’ve got to try something from this decade on vinyl. Most of the production is really good, depending on the label. You said you like older?” She hums, and you flip through the A-C bin before you murmur, “This one.”

“A-ha? Like ‘Take on Me’?” she questions, reaching out for the record.

“One of the best songs ever written, I think, and hearing it like this is like being in the front row of an angel concert.”

“I’ll buy it,” she begins slowly. “On one condition. You get coffee with me and become my best friend, because I feel like we’re halfway there.”

“Was that a Bon Jovi reference?”

“You do know your classic rock.”

“Well,  I am a choir teacher.”

“Please agree to coffee. I’ll pay.”

You smile and pull your phone from your pocket. “Here, give me your name and number. We’ll set it up, bestie.”

“I’m Lucy, by the way,” she offers, moving the records against her chest to put her contact information in your phone.

You tell her your first name as you send her a text with your favorite coffee shop and a link to your current favorite playlist. As you walk to the checkout together, you feel lighter. Maybe you can find a life outside of school separate from your dad.

“Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies,” you sing softly, flipping through your choir binder.

“Have you made a decision?” Lucy asks, pulling the chair from the opposite side of the table to sit closer to you.

“I’ve got it narrowed down to three. Well, the kids narrowed it down to three and now I can’t pick.”

“Which songs?”

“Take Me to Church, Hallelujah, and Frozen Heart.”

“Those… those seem very different. What’s Frozen Heart?”

“The ice workers’ song at the beginning of Frozen. I don’t know who picked it originally, but it got a lot of votes.”

“If you were performing, what would you vote for?”

“Honestly, as a teenager, I probably would’ve said Frozen Heart. And they’ve got the skills and the range to do it.”

“There’s your answer,” Lucy says, smiling.

“Thank you,” you reply, closing the binder. “Now, how was your day, Officer Chen?”

“Long, but I did hear a new song on the radio with a melody I think you might like.”

“No, you don’t get to change the topic back to me like that. How are you, Lucy?”

“I’m okay. I guess I just feel kind of bored. Like, I go to work, I hang out with you, and I love my routine, but I want to do something new.”

“Well, you’re invited to the choir show, of course. But, in the meantime, we could always do something together when you have some time off. We live in the heart of shows and sports; there’s plenty of things to pick from and I have someone who can get tickets at a price high school choir teachers and cops can swing.”

Lucy’s eyes brighten, and she smiles.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“Would you like to go to a Dodgers game?”

“Always.”

You stay at school late on the day of the Dodgers game. Choir practice ended on time, but Lucy is bringing another cop friend to the game, and it will be easier for them to pick you up here rather than at your apartment. As you tidy your classroom, you play music and sing along.

Losing track of time as your playlist continues, you don’t hear someone open your door. As a song ends, you turn and freeze.

“Hi,” you greet, lifting your hand in an awkward greeting. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the man watching you replies, his eyes following you as you rush to pause your music. “Sorry to intrude.”

“No, I lost track of time, sorry to make you come in.”

“You’ve got a beautiful voice.”

You slow, smiling shyly as you murmur, “Thank you.”

“Oh, there you are,” Lucy sighs, rounding the corner to reach your classroom. “This is Tim, who I asked to wait for me.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, offering your hand.

His handshake seems to warm you from the inside out, and when you drop your hand to your side, it feels as if you’re pulling away from the world’s strongest magnet.

“Ready?” Lucy asks. “We got an email earlier that the seats were upgraded, so we’ll have an even better view when we win.”

“She just wants the Dodgers to win because there’s less of a chance of us getting called in for overnight patrol if we do. Bigger loss means more fighting,” Tim explains quietly.

“No, I’m a fan,” Lucy argues, several steps ahead of you.

“Is your station near the stadium?” you inquire.

Lucy holds the school’s door open for you and answers, “We’re in Mid-Wilshire.”

You stop in the parking lot as your brows draw together. “You both work at Mid-Wilshire? How did I not know that?”

“You know the station?” Tim asks, slowing to wait for you.

“And its laughingstock.”

Lucy laughs as she pulls the backdoor of Tim’s truck open. “Our laughingstock is a cop, believe it or not.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Smitty’s my dad.”

Lucy’s hand slips off the door, and she steps forward quickly to catch herself. Tim’s eyes run over your body before lifting to meet your gaze again. If you weren’t feeling so put off by the realization that you’re breaking your rule in a way, you might be flattered by how easily he seemed to take you in. Maybe even admire you.

I’m not breaking my rule by being their friend, you tell yourself. But can it end there? you wonder, looking at Tim.

“Did you know he had a daughter?” you ask, beginning to walk again.

“No,” Tim and Lucy answer together.

Tim opens the passenger door for you and whispers, “I wish I had.”

Less than a month after meeting Tim, you’ve become close. Now, you have not one but two best friends from your father’s station. You haven’t said anything to him about it, and you assume Tim and Lucy haven’t either because he hasn’t brought it up the numerous times you’ve seen one another.

Shaking your head, you try to stop thinking of Tim and focus on the practice session you’re leading. Five minutes before choir practice ends, your phone rings.

“It’s a distraction,” your choir group calls together, quoting your response when asked why they can’t have their phones out even though school is technically over.

You see Tim’s name on the caller ID and wave for them to quiet before you answer it. As a cop’s daughter, you’re no stranger to the wave of nausea that threatens to pull you under as you answer an unexpected call. Tim could be hurt, or maybe Lucy, even your dad. But you must answer the call to find out, so you swallow your fear and ask, “Hello?”

“Sorry,” Tim says breathlessly. “Sorry to bother you. Are you busy?”

“I’m finishing up practice. What’s wrong?”

“Noth- nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing, Tim.”

“Can you call me when you’re done?”

“Where are you?” you inquire softly, looking over your shoulder at the high school students talking to one another.

“At home.”

“I’ll be right there,” you offer.

Tim releases a sigh before he says, “Thank you,” and ends the call.

“You’re free to go, guys,” you announce. “Great work today. I’ll see you for dress rehearsal tomorrow and then you get a break until the show on Friday.”

The students cheer as they leave the room, but your mood is far more somber as you shove your things into your bag and rush out of the building. Tim’s house isn’t far, but every mile seems to stretch for an hour as you worry about him. After parking behind his truck, you jog to his front door and ring the doorbell.

Tim pulls the door open wearing sweatpants and a look that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m sorry,” he forces out. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Come here,” you offer raising your arm to him.

Tim doesn’t hesitate to step forward and into your hold. His arms wrap around your waist as you rub your hand along his bare upper back. Without removing his hands from your sides, Tim nudges the door closed and presses his face into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “I got you.”

Tim exhales shakily against you, and you guide him carefully to his couch. Sitting beside him, with his chest pressed to yours, you trace shapes on his back and begin humming.

“Can you keep doing that?” Tim requests.

You’ve become friends with Tim; you know about his past and grumpy disposition, but you’ve also seen glimpses of the man beneath. Right now, you’re with a side of Tim you suspected wanted to break free but had been buried after years of heartbreak, betrayal, and abuse.

“Humming?” you clarify.

Tim nods, and you start a different song, humming the opening notes before singing softly. As you move through the words, Tim relaxes against you.

“Thank you,” he whispers as you finish the song.

He sits up, separating himself from you. His eyes meet yours, soft and open, and you raise your hand to cup his face before you stop yourself. He put distance between you, and you don’t want to scare him away by moving too quickly. You care about Tim more than you should probably care about a friend.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’m better now,” he admits. “Thank you. Today was… there was a little boy who called the police on his dad because he was hitting his mom. It got to me – it shouldn’t have, but it did. Then I got home, and in the quiet, it was too much. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let myself get stressed like that.”

“How do you normally destress?” you inquire, shifting the focus from what he thinks he should or shouldn’t have done.

“Boxing, watching a game,” he lists. “I’ve got a few little things, but everything felt wrong.”

“Well, I’m here for you,” you promise. “Anytime you need me.”

“Your voice is pretty.”

“You’ve told me before,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t you sing?”

Your phone buzzes with an incoming message from your dad, but you flip it face down on Tim’s coffee table.

“Do you need to get that?” Tim asks.

“No, he’s just checking in. I’ll call him later. And to answer your other question, I don’t sing because I like teaching, supporting, more than being the center of attention. I love it, but I don’t think I’d thrive in it as a career.”

“When’s the next choir show?”

“Friday.”

“Can I come?”

You smile at Tim and answer, “Of course.”

As you shift your hand to pick at your fingers, someone walks closely behind you and pulls your wrists apart.

“Don’t do that,” Tim says softly.

You sigh and turn toward him, tucking your hands behind your back. “I’m the teacher and I still get as nervous as I did when I was actually singing,” you confess.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Tim assures you. “They’re talented – you’ve said it yourself – and they have a great teacher.”

“Unless I forgot something or miss a cue or-“

“Stop,” Tim demands, using his cop voice rather than the softer tone he tends to adopt when speaking to you. “Breathe.”

You nod, watching his chest as you match your inhales and exhales to his. After several breaths, you release a sigh and whisper your gratitude.

“I brought you these,” Tim says, reaching for a nearby seat. He lifts a cellophane-wrapped bouquet and passes it to you, watching your eyes as you stare at the beautiful arrangement.

“Thank you,” you say. “They’re beautiful.”

“I don’t know choir etiquette, but, I thought you’d like them. If I knew you were panicking I would’ve gotten you something more useful like a weighted blanket or an inhaler.”

You laugh, pushing Tim’s shoulder slightly. Something about being near him makes you feel different. When Tim is with you when you’re talking or sitting together, even the mere thought of him makes you feel special in a way you have never experienced before. Tim Bradford is special, and though he has quickly become one of your closest friends, you can’t help but feel that there’s something else, something more.

“Hi!” Lucy exclaims, pulling you into a hug. “You look so nice!”

“Thank you,” you reply, smiling as you hold your flowers to your chest. “You do too. Thank you both for coming.”

“Of course,” Lucy answers. “I’m so excited.”

“If your choir team finishes third or higher tonight, you go to regionals, right?” Tim clarifies.

“Yes,” you answer. “But we’re hoping to line up some charity shows after this either way.”

“Well, we know a police station that wouldn’t mind a concert,” Lucy points out. “Right, Tim?”

“Right,” Tim agrees, his focus steady on you.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Oh, my dad just walked in. I’ll see you two after?”

Tim and Lucy nod, wish you luck, and then take their seats as you walk toward the opposite side of the auditorium to say hello to your dad.

“I can’t believe she’s Smitty daughter,” Lucy mumbles. “They’re so different.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, his eyes following your every move. “She’s a lot more tolerable.”

Lucy lifts her brow and muses, “Sounds like you’d like to do more than tolerate her.”

Tim turns quickly, a warning look on his face, so Lucy raises her hands in surrender.

“Tell her,” she says. “Not me.”

“You really did not have to do that,” you repeat as you and Tim walk out of the restaurant.

“Least I could do,” Tim replies. “Now stop talking about it.”

“No, I have to pay you back. At least let me buy you coffee or something.”

Tim slows on the sidewalk. He brought you flowers to the show, hugged you after your team was awarded second place and progressed to regionals, and enjoyed a nice dinner with you, which he paid for. Everything felt more like a date than two friends hanging out and supporting one another, he realizes. More, he thinks, he wanted it to be a date, and he would like to do it again.

The Tim Bradford who hesitantly agreed to join Lucy and her new friend at a Dodgers game a few months ago is not the man walking beside you now. Not the man wondering what it would be like to take your hand and kiss you in the warm glow of a streetlight, thinking about the right words to ask you out, picking apart every word you’ve said tonight for a sign that you might want it too.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

Tim looks up at you, realizing his thoughts caused him to stop walking. “Just thinking,” he admits.

“Must take a lot out of you,” you joke lightly. “Everything alright?”

“Would you…”

“Would I?” you press.

“Would you like to go out on a date?” Tim asks quickly.

You let the question hang between you as you process what he’s asking. For Tim, the idea seems to crash between you, shattering on the sidewalk between you as you prepare to reject him.

“Never mind,” he says. “I shouldn’t have-“

“No, Tim,” you interrupt, raising your hand. “It’s not you or the question. Not even that I don’t want to.”

“Then?”

“I have this rule. I came up with it years ago, a decision never to date one of my dad’s coworkers. There’s too much that could go wrong, I guess, and I see the strain being a cop puts on my dad and his relationships. So, it’s not you that I’m saying no to.”

“It’s that I work with your dad. I get it,” Tim offers. “Being a cop is hard. Being with a cop is harder.”

“You’re not mad?” you ask.

“I’m not mad,” he assures you, offering a small smile. “You don’t have a rule against being friends with a cop, right?”

“Well, I did, but I didn’t find out Lucy worked with my dad until it was too late, so I scrapped that rule.”

Tim laughs, but deep down, you both wonder, What if the other rule was scrapped too?

Although you picked the movie, you can’t focus on it. Tim’s fingers tap against his jean-clad thigh, moving restlessly as he looks past the television to stare at the wall.

“Tim,” you whisper, leaning toward him.

He hums, his fingers slow, but he doesn’t reply. You reach for the remote, pause the movie, and then pick up your phone from the table. After a moment of scrolling, you find a song and play it. The music fills the space, and you shift to sit atop your feet with only a cushion between you and Tim.

“Oh, they say some people long ago were searching for a different tune,” you sing softly.

Tim turns toward you, his eyes tired and his shoulders tense. As you continue singing the first verse, he lets his head fall back against the couch cushion and his eyes shut. Watching Tim, you sing as the tension in his muscles ease and his hand spreads across his leg, the stressed movements slowing because you distract him from whatever is on his mind.

“And then they nursed it,” you sing, moving your hand to rest an inch away from Tim’s.

“Rehearsed it.” His hand moves toward yours, your fingers brushing.

“And gave out the news.” The song is nearly over, and you want nothing more than to collapse into Tim’s arms and give in to every urge and desire you’ve buried since you met.

“That the Southland gave birth to the blues!” you conclude.

Tim smiles and opens his eyes when you slip your hand under his and lace your fingers with his.

“Does me singing actually help you?” you wonder.

“It does,” Tim answers. “Do I actually help you calm down?”

“Even when I’m not at a performance.”

Tim nods, and the deeper meaning of your questions pushes you toward a decision you’ve been avoiding since Tim asked you out.

“I can’t do it,” you whisper.

Tim sits up straighter, looking at you but refraining from speaking.

“I thought that refusing to date someone my dad worked with would save me from heartbreak, keep me from getting into a doomed relationship. But the rule is what’s hurting me.”

Tim squeezes your hand gently.

“I can’t follow the rule anymore. I want you, Tim. Telling you no hurt me worse than trying to be more than friends could.”

“What are you saying?” Tim asks.

“I… Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Tim smiles, releases your hand, and pulls you against his chest. As his hands rise to hold your face, he answers, “Unless you have any other rules you want to break first.”

Laughing, you shake your head and lean toward Tim.

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” Tim says. “But remember that I asked you first.”

“There is one favor I have to ask, though.”

Tim nods once, and you request, “Can we not tell my dad? For a while, at least.”

“I try not to talk to your dad unless forced.”

“I’m taking that as a yes, honey, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Tim’s brow raises, and he slides one hand around your waist and spreads it across your back to encourage you to lie against him. “Whatever you want, honey,” he repeats lowly before his lips meet yours.