jae 𓆩♡𓆪

LAST WEEK. 

You try to avoid these dinner parties when you’re able to. But unfortunately for you, it was not one of those times. Bokuto always invites Akaashi to these events with his volleyball team, and this time, he decided to drag you along with him.

“I’m so glad I convinced you to come along,” Keiji smiles, picking a piece of meat up from his plate before shoving it in his mouth.

“Yeah! I feel like I never see you anymore,” Bokuto is practically beaming in his seat. “Keiji always says you’re too busy,”

To be quite frank, you’re almost never busy. But drinking in a loud room full of strangers just never sounded like a good time to you. 

An awkward sigh escapes your mouth, “Yeah, I just- have lots of homework.. and, uh. Stuff,”

You see Keiji roll his eyes from your peripheral vision. 

“What?” you smile before kicking at his leg under the table.

“Oh, nothin-”

“KEIJI!”

A voice shouted. 

“Atsumu! How have you been?” Keiji says.

A man with annoyingly bright blonde hair walks up to your table; grabbing a nearby seat and instantly throwing himself into a casual conversation with the other two.

You’d be outright stupid if the keywords blonde and Atsumu didn’t tell you who exactly he was. It’s hard not to know when he’s all your classmates rave about. 

Now that you’re looking at him up close, you think the crowds definitely overhype him. He’s average at the very least. The way his shirt hugs his muscular build is definitely appealing. If you close your eyes, maybe.

And either Atsumu Miya has telepathic abilities or he was just able to feel the way your eyes bore into his head, because after a quick exchange with your friends, his head whips to look at you.

“And you brought your friend! What’s your name?” he grins at you. You can definitely see how girls could fall for his charms. Not you though.

There’s a split second of hesitation before you realize he’s actually talking to you. Your name slips past your lips just above a whisper.

“Oh yeah, Bokkun has talked about you before!” 

You manage your best smile, though it doesn’t really reach your eyes. “Only good things, I hope,”

“For surely,” there’s a voice across the restaurant that calls out for Atsumu, “Well, you should come to one of our games sometime, Keiji. You too!” the last part he aims towards you with a smile.

And that’s all that conversation should’ve been. 

At least until Atsumu bumped his leg against the table as he got up, causing a water cup to tip over and spill on none other than you. 

Honestly, any other day you could’ve brushed this off. Maybe even laughed it off. But with the loud voices, the fact you didn’t even want to be here, and a very frantic Atsumu Miya apologizing to you and handing you an annoying amount of napkins— all of it tipped you off the edge.

You don’t even mean for it to slip out, but it does.

“This fucking blows,”

-

PRESENT.

You shake your head as the memory of Atsumu Miya with his jaw propped wide open pops into your head. Keiji already scolded you enough about how what you said was a bit “rude”. And it might’ve been rude but could you blame yourself? You had already told him you didn’t want to go out, so maybe it was just a series of unfortunate events. 

And as much as you love Keiji and your guys’ time together, you particularly love the moments you get to be alone by yourself. You really get to take a moment to reflect and bask in the environment around you.

The trees blow in the soft breeze, everyone is just far enough to be a peaceful ambience on your walk to your next class, and Atsumu Miya is coming up to you and calling out your name.

Atsumu Miya is doing what?

“Hey- wait!” he stops you in your tracks. He has a stupid smile on his face before he points to himself, “Remember me? Atsumu, Bokkun’s friend?”

You have half a mind to act like you don’t know who the hell he is. But you’d get another earful from Akaashi if Atsumu went around telling Bokuto about it…

“Oh, yeah. That was literally last week,” more sarcasm than you intended was laced in your tone, but come on.

He lets out a sigh of relief, before a breathy laugh escapes from him, “Yeah,” 

The sound of the leaves brushing against each other fills your ears as Atsumu stands in front of you just smiling. You let a single moment pass by before deciding you have to break this awkward silence.

“So, uh- did you need something, or—”

Seemingly having forgotten why he came up to you, his eyes widened a bit, “Oh sorry, yeah. I guess I just wanted to properly apologize for spilling water on you, I can’t stop thinking about it,”

You can feel your eyebrow twitch a bit but hold back whatever emotion was beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach, “It was just water, it’s fine,”

“I just don’t want you to hate me or anything, especially since you’re Keiji’s friend and all,” he adds with a worried smile, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his head.

Out of all people, why would Atsumu— star setter on the volleyball team, can probably get any person he wants (and probably has gotten everyone he wants), just met you last week— care what you think of him. He has to be playing with you.

It’s the only reason you can think that this man would stop you dead in your tracks to apologize for a slight inconvenience that, yes, did ruin your night, but you could’ve lived your whole life without this interaction and be perfectly fine.

So you don’t take, what you deem to be, the bait.

“I’m sure you don’t,” your demeanor quickly switches, “I’ve gotta go, gonna be late, or something,” and without another word you walk past him.

-

If you had known that wouldn’t be the last time you interacted with Atsumu, you would’ve at least considered being a bit more cordial with him as you left. Too late now.

You realize that fact a couple days later as you watch a yellow-blue striped ball get passed from one side of the net to the other. Why you’re here, you don’t really know. You chalk it down to the fact that Akaashi’s a good friend to you, so the least you could do was accompany him to his boyfriend’s game. You’re not expecting much social interaction from watching men play with balls anyway.

The game goes by quicker than you expected, and to your surprise, it wasn’t that boring. Especially the part when Atsumu got hit in the forehead by a faint-set. You might’ve laughed a little too loud for the fangirls’ liking, heads turning your direction at your outburst.

“That was so good,” Keiji says as he makes his way to his feet, raising his hands upward to get a good stretch, “Alright, let’s go down,”

Your eyes widen, “Down? Are we not leaving?” you’re gathering your belongings as you ask.

“Well yeah, but I wanna say bye to Kou first,” he’s already scooting his way down the aisle, leaving you no choice to rush after him.

The court smells of something like disinfectant and sweat. You stay close to Akaashi, feeling a bit out of place. He’s quick to find Bokuto, speed-walking towards him.

“You did so good!” Keiji smiles, Bokuto giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Thanks! Didja see the last point I scored?!” the two are quickly immersed into a conversation that you don’t really bother keeping up with. 

You’re quick to pull your phone out, to fill the awkward void that fills you as you stand in the middle of the court with your friend. Your thumb quickly busies itself, scrolling and tapping away meaninglessly.

“Hey!”

The familiar voice causes your thumb to freeze midair. With a slow turn of your head, you’re met with none other than Atsumu.

“Hey,” your hand slips your phone into your back pocket.

“Did ya just get here?” Atsumu is wiping his neck off with a towel, his skin glistens in places where sweat once was. 

“No,” is all you say. Maybe if you keep it short, he’ll leave you alone. You don’t really understand what he’s trying to play at every time he comes up to you, and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

“You watched the whole game? Did you see my sets?” his smile is big as he asks you.

“Yeah,” 

“Not much of a talker?”

You felt a tiny bit bad, but his inability to read the mood pissed you off a smidge. All you’re able to muster is a shrug of your shoulders before you’re turning back to Keiji and tapping on his shoulder,

“Are you ready?” you ask.

“Yeah, sorr- Oh Atsumu! Great job today!” he exclaims. There’s a droop in your shoulders as he starts conversing with Atsumu.

“Thank you, Keiji! Me and Bokkun work real good together,” 

“Definitely, I can’t wait for the next game!” Akaashi adds.

Next, you think. Keiji takes a quick glance at you before continuing, “Well I think my friend here is all tuckered out, so we’re going to head out,”

“Alright then, get home safely. See ya around!” the blonde directs at you specifically, smiling.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile and a raise of your eyebrows before leading Akaashi away with you. 

You hope not.

-

The car ride home was anything but silent.

“So you and Atsumu, huh?”

The sentence alone sends literal chills down your spine. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” you mutter.

Akaashi must’ve taken your words as a joke because he continues, “You can tell me if you’re interested in him, y’know. Him and Kou are friends and he could set you guys up,” 

“Oh my god, is that the vibes I gave off? Quick, tell me what I need to change so I can not give that.” 

A hearty laugh escapes Akaashi’s mouth, “You’re so dramatic. C’mon he isn’t even that bad, the ladies love him,”

“Keiji, he’s like in his mid 20s and still chews with his mouth open,”

“Observant, are we?” he slips and you have half a mind to wipe that smug look off his face.

“No, it’s just so bad that it’s audible from a table over,” you slump in your seat, arms crossed over your shoulder.

You can hear Akaashi let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. “I’m teasing you,”

“I know.. He just hasn’t left me alone since that one dinner I went to. He even stopped me on my way to class to say sorry again,” you groan, eyes catching on the city lights outside the window.

There’s a slight pause in the conversation. It’s a second too long, it makes you think whatever Akaashi is going to say next is going to piss you right off.

“Maybe he likes you,” you stand corrected.

“Me? Please, I think he’d fuck a rock before he even considers me an option,” you laugh half-heartedly. Your hands fidget with the fabric of your top.

“You’re harsh, Y/N. You know you’re attractive,”

“Keiji, you’re being suspiciously nice,” you can audibly hear your friend gulp beside you, “Oh my god, what is it?”

“I can’t just compliment my best friend?” he can feel your eyes glaring holes into the side of his head before he sighs, “Well, Kou and I were talking,”

“That’s never a good idea,” you chip in.

“And there’s going to be a party…”

“NO,”

“You didn’t let me finish! It’s in like a month,” he pushes, trying his very best to sound convincing, “You can sit on it, you don’t need to give an answer now,”

“You know I don’t really like going to parties,” you sigh.

“I know, Y/N. I’m not going to push you this time for real! But you only live once, I don’t want you to have any regrets about not going to these things,”

And you know he’s being genuine. A part of you does want to go out, to be social, to make new friends. But it’s so tiring. 

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you think about your next words carefully. A sigh is released from your chest, “Fine, I’ll think about it, ‘kay?”

“Great!” he smiles.

-

Atsumu is a friendly guy. He’s also a ladies’ man. 

At least that’s what he tells himself.

Moral of the story is that everybody likes him. So why does he get the feeling that you don’t?

Atsumu has never been so in his head about something or someone ever since that fight he and Osamu had in high school. And it’s throwing him off.

Have you even genuinely smiled at him once? He can’t recall.

“What’s gotcha all in your head Tsum-Tsum?” The grey haired man snaps Atsumu out of whatever trance he was in. 

He says your name, catching Bokuto off guard, “Is she nice to you?”

“Her, huh. Yeah, she’s Keiji’s friend which makes her my friend my association,” he flashes a smile brightly at the blonde. “Why? Do you like her? I can ask Keiji for her num-”

“No, no, no- That's definitely not it,” Atsumu sighs, bringing his hand to his forehead and rubbing the tension out, “Ever since coach’s dinner party, I’ve been getting the feeling she doesn’t like me,”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t,” Bokuto adds bluntly, which in turn made Atsumu’s jaw drop. “You probably just rubbed her the wrong way,”

“But- everyone likes me,” Atsumu is genuinely at a loss of words, “I’ve already said sorry so many times, though. What else could I do to get her to like me?”

“Are you sure you don’t want her?”

“YES,” all Bokuto gives him in response is a laugh before walking away.

If Bokuto was able to get along with you, then why couldn’t Atsumu? 

Did the water incident really upset you that badly? Was he coming off too strong?

Atsumu knows he’s never been the smartest in the room, but the bright idea that just popped into his brain might’ve made up for that fact.

Maybe if he keeps being around you, eventually you’ll warm up to him and like him!

-

The campus’ cafe bustles with students, some going in and some coming out. Coming here is your favorite pastime. Yeah, the coffee is sub-par, but for $2 your wallet couldn’t be happier.

Your eyes are scanning the menu, busying yourself as you patiently wait in the line. If anywhere, this cafe would probably be your safe space. The ambience is nice, the workers aren’t invasive with the small talk, and everyone is in silent agreement to leave each other be.

“Oh, hey, it’s you again,”

Fuck your whole life.

You take a deep breath, in and out, before turning to meet the blonde.

“Whatcha doing here?” Atsumu asks.

“Getting coffee at the coffee shop where they sell coffee,” you say sarcastically. 

He laughs, though you’re confused as to what is so funny.

“Did I do something to make you hate me?” he suddenly asks, and you swear for a minute the whole building goes silent. 

Atsumu’s words caught you completely off guard. You’re not really sure how to answer especially since this conversation was never a possibility in your mind. 

A long sigh escapes you, “No, Atsumu. You didn’t,” you shift uncomfortably as you scoot up in line a bit.

Atsumu lets out a sound of relief, “Okay, that’s good,” he says contently before seemingly changing the subject.

“How long have you known Keiji and Bokkun?” he asks.

“Since high school, but I didn’t really know-know Kou until they actually started dating,”

The conversation starts to flow into something about you. And you let it. You indulge him. Because maybe you have been a little cruel to him. But it’s mostly because you don’t want to feed into whatever ego he already has built up.

Everytime he prods you with more questions about yourself, you find yourself hesitating. It’s a bit odd that you’re here talking in your campus’ cafe with Atsumu Miya about what classes you’re taking this year. And you’d be stupid if you said you couldn’t feel the eyes or stares on you every now and then. But standing here with him right now, they don’t really bother you.

“Next in line,” the cashier calls out.

You walk up to the counter, looking at the menu as you state your usual order. You’re pulling out your wallet, but not before you feel the heat of another body behind you.

“And I’ll take an Americano,” Atsumu adds, the cashier looking between the two of you in confusion, but still adding to the other nonetheless. 

Atsumu is quick to tap his phone on the pay pad, not paying you any mind as you stare at him in disbelief.  

“Alright, here’s your receipt. Order number on the top, thank you!” the person at the counter dismisses both of you before tending to the next person. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, carefully slipping your wallet into your bag, reaching for your phone instead, “I can pay you back,”

“No, don't. I wanted to,” is all he says, eyes not meeting your own. 

“Why though? We’re not even friends or anything,” you grip your phone a little tighter in anticipation of his answer. 

Atsumu’s eyes gaze at the windows, looking outside, avoiding your gaze even more if that was even possible, “I want to be though,”

“Order 828!”

“That’s ours, Y/N,”

The two of you walk synchronously towards the counter, grabbing your drinks. 

You look down at yours methodically, “Thanks Atsumu,” you say with a little smile. 

“It’s no worries,” it feels like the conversation you two were having left many things unsaid, but he is the one who chooses to leave it that way, “Cya around,” 

“See you,” you watch as he exits the cafe, thoughts racing a mile a minute. 

You realized a couple of things today. Firstly, that definitely isn’t going to be your last run-in with him. Secondly, you ignoring and dismissing him amounted to nothing. And finally, Atsumu isn’t as bad as you made him out to be.

All of it is a bit worrying, but you’re not going to dwell on it too much.

—

You had many preconceived notions about Atsumu before he started popping up bit by bit into your life. You still dislike him, but your last conversation lightened the load a bit. A bit.

Which is why you’re calm and collected as you study with an uncharacteristically locked-in Atsumu Miya in front of you. You say uncharacteristically as if you know him like that, but for all you know that could be very like him. 

All he said as he sat down was just a faint “Hey,” and you bowed your head in a silent greeting. But other than that, he’s been back and forth between a notebook and his laptop. 

You suppose that the athletes don’t get to just slack in class. You see that now as you see his forehead wrinkling in confusion every now and then, probably stuck on something. If you squint you can kinda see what all the girls are talking about. His face is a little attractive. 

Your eyes widen as you shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. Get serious. Maybe being around him too much did something to your brain chemistry. Does he wear one of those pheromone colognes? 

Resting your head on a propped up arm, you observe his face a bit. You will say he’s a little less annoying when he’s silent. 

“Like what ya see?” 

Your eyes widen before snapping your gaze down to your keyboard, “Hell, no,” and the way his face drops almost immediately makes you burst out laughing, so much so you have to slap your hands over your mouth to silence yourself.

“You’re so mean,” he sighs, fake anguish on his face. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you’re still trying to collect yourself. “Why do you even care what I think? You’ve got plenty of girls to tell you otherwise,” you wipe a forming tear from the corner of your eye.

The words came out without a second thought, and truthfully it was a rhetorical question; you weren’t expecting an answer. But he provides one anyway.

“Well I wanna know what you think,”

Your laughing had already come to a halt, your eyes searching his face for some sign he was possibly joking. “Really?”

Atsumu just nods, waiting.

“Mm, you’re okay.. I guess,” you add a moment later.

His nose scrunches with the drop of his jaw, “That’s all!?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the “p”.

“So cruel,” he slouches a bit, and somewhere in your heart you feel bad. 

Just enough for you to add,”You look better when you’re quiet and studying real hard,” 

Atsumu’s posture quickly snaps back up, his hands immediately back on his keyboard and tapping away. You follow suit shortly after. 

Your heart is beating in your ear and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You don’t like this feeling– don’t like the way he’s making you feel. All you can do is control your breathing to quell whatever the hell is going on with you. 

You really dislike Atsumu Miya. More specifically, you dislike how confused he makes you feel and the way he puts a couple of butterflies in your stomach.

—-

You find yourself at another volleyball game. Not because of Atsumu. Nope.

You’re here because Akaashi was having a bad week and you saying no would probably be the nail in the coffin for him. That’s really all!

If someone heard you cheering for Atsumu, they probably heard wrong. It definitely wasn’t you. Maybe you had a doppelganger in the stands. 

The game felt slower than the last one you attended, but you can’t put a finger on why. And so when Akaashi rises to his feet, you do, too. Without a single objection. Both of you scoot down the aisle and make it to the court to greet Atsumu Bokuto. 

Atsumu also happens to be there as well, and now that you’re not quite “stranger” status with him anymore, you guess you’ll engage in a conversation with him. 

“Good job,” you offer, albeit still a little offputting. 

“That’s all?” he asks, confusing you. The look on your face pushes him to continue, “So that wasn’t you who was cheering when I got that service ace,”

Your fingernails dig into your palm as your cheeks flood with warmth. Embarrassing. You quickly divert. 

“No, you’re delusional,” you say matter-of-factly. 

He rolls his eyes jokingly, nudging your shoulder with his, “I’m sure,”

He’s way too friendly. It makes you feel for all the girls who fall victims to his charisma.

Another voice calls your name, saving you from your conversation with Atsumu. Your saving grace comes in the form of a cheerful Bokuto.

“Are you coming to the party? Keiji said he invited you!” Bokuto asks you. Atsumu’s eyes widened at the grey-haired man’s words.

“Er, I haven’t got a chance to think about it… When was it again?”

“Next Friday after our game,” Atsumu interrupts. 

Your teeth nibble on your bottom lip, finding yourself a bit tense at being put on the spot. “We’ll see,” is all you muster.

The team’s coach is calling for all the players to huddle up, the two men’s head snapped in the direction before quickly saying their goodbyes and running over. Akaashi moves closer to your side.

“Still not interested in him?”

“No,”

-

After much convincing (and a few threats), you find yourself at some random dude’s house, Akaashi by your side. The sound of the music that blasts inside is all you hear as you two open the front door and make your way inside.

You recognize a couple of faces– some classmates, some guys you’ve seen on the volleyball court. But you don’t really know anyone, so you try to stick with Akaashi. 

As much as you can at least, because one moment he’s right in front of you leading you through the crowds, then in a blink he’s gone.

And you’re quickly filled with the feelings of dread and loneliness you wanted to avoid. The feelings that Akaashi said that this party would fill the void of. And it’s not his fault at all. You made the final decision on your own that you would come here. 

Maybe you needed a couple drinks is all.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air, before letting it out. You grit your teeth and make your way to the kitchen. 

Luckily for you, there isn’t anyone in there. Except the couple making out in the corner, but it’s easy to block them out. 

It’s easy for you to locate the red solo cups and the cheap alcohol the party provided. You grab a Caprisun from the cooler before pouring yourself a shot. It goes down nastily as any cheap vodka would. The juice in your hand is quick to rinse it down. 

The smacking lips of the nearby couple causes your eyebrow to twitch a bit before you decide to pour one more. Okay and maybe a third. Each cup goes down smoother than the last. You slam the cup down, contemplating another. But before you make the decision, a group of already seemingly drunk guys rushes into the kitchen. Which signals you to get the hell out of there.

When you walk back to the main area of the house, you still don’t see any familiar faces. The dreadful feeling isn’t there anymore, probably thanks to the alcohol quickly making it’s way into your bloodstream.

You make your way through the house before you find  peace on an empty couch in one of the spaces further into the place. There were a couple people chatting by the doorway, but they kept to themselves, so you could chill here. At least until Akaashi calls you and says it’s time to go.

Your eyes scan the room of the decorations, examining the colors, shapes. Some of them swirl or blur into the other, but it keeps your mind busy.

“I thought I saw you walk this direction,” a voice calls out.

Out of anyone you thought you’d be happy to see tonight, it definitely wasn’t Atsumu Miya. But you find a stupid smile making its way on your face despite yourself. 

“Were you looking for me?” You turn your whole body on the sofa to face him as he sits beside you. His steps were a bit slow, eyes a bit lidded. Your cheek pressed against the fabric as you stared at him for an answer.

“Would it be ugly if I said yes?” he laughs. His head is turned towards yours, and for you it feels like you’re the only two in the room.

“No, well maybe,” your eyes close, shapes spinning behind your eyelids.

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time you called me ugly,” Atsumu smiles. “You already had somethin’ to drink?”

You nod your head yes before the words he said prior process in your head, “Hey! I never called you ugly. I said you were okay… or something…” your words trail off.

“Same thing to me,”

Atsumu turns his head back forward, his eyes scanning the walls like you did just a minute ago. 

“I don’t think you’re ugly, ‘Tsumu,” the nickname slips out your mouth messily, but it still catches him off guard as his head snaps towards you again.

“‘Tsumu, huh?” he smiles to himself. “I think you’re quite beautiful yourself,”

You find yourself laughing at his words, bringing both of your hands up to your face in embarrassment. 

“Such a liar,” you mutter through the laughs. 

Soft hands come up to your wrists bringing them down, “‘M not, it’s the truth,”

You bite the inside of your mouth in an attempt to stop the smile that’s tugging at your lips. 

You don’t quite realize it, and maybe he doesn’t either— the two of you are leaning into each other, his hands still softly grasping at your wrists. 

His lips hover over yours until you both jump at a voice calling your name. 

You jump backwards on the couch, out and away from his grasp. Your eyes are wide as you see Bokuto with a very drunk Akaashi in his arms. 

“Can you help-” he’s very out of breath, “help me get him home, please,”

It felt as though the alcohol had instantaneously left your body. Your eyes look at Atsumu who says nothing before you offer a quiet, “I should go,”

He still says nothing. And neither do you as you take Akaashi’s other arm over your shoulder.

In fact, no one says anything on the way home. It’s silent.

—

And it’s still silent on your end the next couple of days. You don’t have the energy to leave your room. You don’t have the energy to text anyone back.

Maybe the party sucked the social battery out of you for the next 5 years, who knows?

But you really have the worst luck. Socially, platonically, romantically. The feelings you wanted to avoid so badly were creeping up on you without you knowing. And finally struck when you thought you had finally broken through the barriers.

If Bokuto hadn’t come, would Atsumu have kissed you? And if he did kiss you, would it have meant anything to him? Or was it like every other girl he’s gotten the chance to get to know?

Were you just another statistic within the girls Atsumu Miya got involved in?

You don’t think you want to know. You don’t want to know anything. That’s why you’re wallowed up in your room sulking about everything that could’ve been and everything that isn’t.

A series of knocks wrap at your door.

“Let me in, I know you’re in there,” it’s Akaashi. 

You’re slow to get up. You barely look at yourself in the mirror as you grab a wet rag and wipe the sadness of your face.

The door creaks open, and as soon as the doorknob meets the wall, you’re pulled into his warm embrace. He’s quick to walk you to your couch, joining you in sitting. You grab one of the throw blankets and wrap it around yourself, hoping it offers you some comfort.

“Where the hell have you been? And why haven’t you answered your texts?” he asks, worry laced all in his tone and his face. He realizes his tone was too pushy, before he corrects himself, “I’m sorry– Are you okay?”

A deep sigh releases from the depths of you, “Yeah, for the most part. Think I’m just in a funk,” your eyes don’t meet his. And he knows there’s more to it than what you’re letting off.

“Something happened at the party, didn’t it?”

Your eyes finally meet his, “Well yeah, but even before that- I just.. I just don’t know how to feel about him,”

His eyes widen at what you’re implying, “Atsumu?”

You cup your face in your hands as you nod, “I think I like him,” the words leave a sour taste in your mouth as they slip out.

Akaashi is quick to grab at your wrists gently, “And what’s wrong with that? Do you not want to like him?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t like anything about him. The way he eats, the way he talks, his jokes, the way he laughs. I hate- no, dislike everything about him. But when you add all of it together it makes him and I like him. It doesn’t even make sense to me so I just want it all to go away,” 

“You trying to hold it all in is going to hurt you more. You holing yourself up in your room is going to hurt you in general,” he says comfortingly. “Look, we don’t have to go to any more parties or games or anything. I just miss you and being in here all day just isn’t going to help you either,”

“You know we almost kissed at the party?” your index finger scratches at your chin awkwardly. “I can’t help but wonder all the ifs that could’ve happened if we did,”

His eyes soften. “You need to get out of your head. At the end of the day dwelling on all the what ifs are gonna be the death of you. Face the facts and reality head on. Don’t let things that haven’t even happened scare you into finding out what’s actually in store for you,”

You can feel your heart rate finally calm down at his words.

“I just feel like I’m going to look stupid,”

“Feelings aren’t stupid. And if shit hits the fan, he’ll have to face my wrath. I’d go to jail for you,” Akaashi is being genuine, and it scares you a little bit.

You can’t help but laugh.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” you smile softly, hugging the blanket around you a little tighter.

“Anything for you,”

-

Atsumu hasn’t seen you in a while. No he’s being dramatic, it’s only been a single week. 

Not on the pathways, not in the cafe, not at the games, you’re nowhere. When he asks Akaashi, the man just shrugs. Bokuto is no help either, all he says is “dunno”. It’s as if you were just a figment of his imagination. 

Maybe he should’ve chased after you. He definitely should’ve but Atsumu is dumb. Downright stupid. 

Atsumu’s had a fair share of girlfriends or crushes. But he’s never thought of anyone more than he’s thinking of you right now. It’s weird, because he only met you a little more than a month ago and it feels like you're turning his world upside down.

You’re in everything. In every ball he sets or serves, every page of notes, every bitter Americano he drinks. 

Maybe he’s known it ever since the first time he saw you at the coach’s dinner party. You probably didn’t even notice that he was staring at you from across the room. He began to wonder why Akaashi never brought you around before then.

He thought maybe being in your proximity outside of social gatherings would help his case; possibly allow him into your small circle. But it feels like all it did was push him impossibly further. 

He doesn’t have your number and your friends are no help. 

Atsumu is completely stumped and doesn’t know what the hell to do about it

-

The bright sun that used to once bring you a lot of comfort seems to shine more harshly. After gathering your feelings, tossing them into a luggage, locking said luggage, and tossing it into the abyss of your mind, you were finally able to get yourself out of bed and back to classes.

There weren’t many more excuses you could tell your professors to excuse you from class anyways, so you really didn’t have much of a choice.

It’s going really well. At least that’s what it feels like. It’s not much different than before. Everyone still talks, everyone is still attending their classes, the world is still spinning. 

All you had to do is get through today then you could probably do anything!

That’s what you falsely lead yourself to believe. It’s about 10 minutes of being outside when you finally see him.

Atsumu Miya chit chatting with another girl. Probably the new girl of the month, you think to yourself.

You’re completely set on ignoring them until his eyes meet your staring gaze. You see his mouth open as if he’s about to call out to you, but before he gets anything out, you roll your eyes before you’re turning on your foot and speed walking in the other direction.

You guys are not dating. You have no right to be butthurt about the almost kiss. Or the fact he’s friendly with another girl. He was doing those things even before you got to know him anyways, so what were you really expecting?

You dislike him. Don’t you?

You sharply turn at the corner before running yourself to a dead-end. Maybe if you keep walking anyways he’ll give up-

“You’ve been avoiding me,” his voice states, causing you to visibly jump. 

You stop where you are before turning to face him, “Bullshit,” your voice is mean, but you don’t care. Why should you? “Why are you even here, don’t have business to attend to?”

“Whatever- Why haven’t I seen you around?” he asks, his eyebrows scrunched in worry but his tone tinged with frustration. “You hiding or something?”

You cross your arms across your chest, “Am not,” 

He says your name causing you to soften, “I’m serious, I’ve been looking for you, I’ve been meaning to apologize-”

“Apologize for what? What have you done that you could possibly be apologizing for?” Now you’re frustrated, “Oh let me guess, for the party right? You didn’t mean to try to kiss me?”

“No, no, that’s not–”

“I’m so tired of this, Atsumu. What do you really want from me? You’re confusing the shit out of me and I’m really tired of all the emotional whiplash. You came into my life out of nowhere and were so fucking annoying at first,” he gulps at your words, but lets you continue, “but.. After a while I didn’t mind your presence. And a bit after that, I think I started to enjoy it. But then we almost kissed! How do you expect me to face you after that?”

“I’m here because I want you,” his voice is the softest and most genuine you’ve ever heard. But you don’t believe him one bit. 

“You’re lying, you could literally have anyone you want! Why would you settle for me?” you’re nearly yelling out of exasperation. 

His jaw drops at your words. “Settle? Are you serious?! You’re lengths out of my league! How else could I prove that I really do want you? Do you want me to yell it out to the world?”

Your eyes widen at his words- no, threat, “Absolutely not-“

“EVERYBODY-!,”

You’re quick to put a rough hand to his mouth, muffling his words before he can even continue, smiling awkwardly at the passerby-ers who look in your direction.

“Are you fucking crazy?” you let out a sigh of relief before releasing him. 

“For you, maybe,” he smirks.

“Gross,” you laugh, lightly punching at his chest. 

“‘M serious,” Atsumu tells you, and there’s nothing about him that says otherwise. 

“I want you, too, Atsumu” you finally let out. And now that it’s out in the air, there’s nothing you can do to take it back. But to your surprise, it’s relieving.

You feel him getting closer. Closer and closer until his body is nearly touching yours. A warm hand comes up to cup your cheek. 

“May I?”

“Shut up,” you grab the sides of his head with your own hands and pull him towards you, crashing your lips together. 

His lips are unexpectedly soft as they move along your own. Atsumu follows your pace, not too fast, yet still sensual as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip. You can feel yourself pushing your body into his, his hands wandering to your waist–

“Oh, Tsum-Tsum weird seeing you- OH MY GOD.”

The two of you jump apart. Atsumu wraps an arm around you protectively as the both of you make eye contact with a very horrified Bokuto with a hand slapped against his mouth.

You’re already fumbling the words to explain yourselves, “Kou, this is–”

Bokuto doesn’t say anything before rushing the other direction, shock still written all over his face.

“Welp,” is all Atsumu says with a shrug before he presses a warm kiss onto the crown of your head.

“He’s probably going to tell Keiji, isn’t he?”

“Yep,”

3 things you dislike still remain the same: people who eat with their mouths open, being bothered, and loud noises. 

Atsumu wormed his way out of that list, but just for him, you’ll make that exception.

FANBOY! KENMA at certain low points considers messaging you. apologise for misleading you; maybe even ask if him being a fan of your content was really a deal-breaker for you because if not, then things might be able to work out. but he knew that would be pointless. he broke your trust by not disclosing that he was a fan of yours before you two met up. it would probably just be insulting and downright humiliating for him to ask for confirmation of that fact.

FANBOY! KENMA sulks in his house for weeks, and eventually decides that the only way to free himself from these shackles of shame is to delete his gooner account.... but before he does that, he just wants to skim through your page a couple times so he can download some of his favourite stuff. because yes, he does finally feel ready to try and move on from you. but equally, he's paid a lot of money for different private shows so letting that all go to waste without at least downloading a back-up copy first would be disrespectful of your time and effort, quite frankly.

FANBOY! KENMA sits in his gaming chair for hours on end in his dimly lit room, binge watching his favourite clips and livestreams of yours while stroking his cock. he subconsciously finds himself rubbing it at the same pace as you, and readying himself to climax in tandem with yours.

FANBOY! KENMA seldom blinks in front of the screen as your perfect pussy swallows and spit out the dildo strapped to your chair over and over. it was hot to watch it before; the way your body shakes and the struggle is clear in your voice when you sink down on the large toy. but now the pleasure was unreal, knowing that he's been in that tight, pretty pussy before. as his hand drags over his length, he tries his best to imagine and recreate that sensation — the sensation of being enveloped and choked by your hole. he misses it.

FANBOY! KENMA has to re-watch old content. he's already seen this clip of you squirting so hard that the entire camera goes blurry about thirty times, but you've not posted anything new since he ran out of your place. plus, your reaction is priceless and never gets old — you're cute gasp when you realise what's happened, and the shocked expression you still wear that comes into focus after you clean the camera lense. the awkward snicker afterwards. just so wholesome.

FANBOY! KENMA who is jerking off to another one of another one of your streams, about to cum all over his monitor as he watches your ass bounce in a maid costume, when the doorbell rings. despite being right on the edge, he pauses and groans as he gets up, assuming it's a delivery driver who needs a signature.

FANBOY! KENMA who freezes up once again when he opens the door to see you stood on the other side.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

"kenma?" you tilt our head, a smile ghosting on your lips. not from happiness to see him, rather just relief that you got the right address.

he stares at you, wide-eyed, for a few moments. like a deer caught in headlights, and his heart is racing like one too. eventually, he is able to stammer out from the back of his throat, "y-yeah." he inhales sharply, and when he has mentally assured himself that you are not some sort of guilt-induced hallucination, he gulps, "what're you doing here?"

he tries to keep his eyes trained to your face, he really does. he doesn't want to give you any more reasons to believe he's a perv. still, he can't help his eyes wandering. once they've soaked in your cute face, the fall to your clothes: you're wearing an oversized hoodie that you are practically swimming in. it's not very sensual and doesn't show off your curves or cute tits but you still look so cute. his breath almost hitches as well when he realises you've not got anything on your bottom half; no skirt or trousers, just the hoodie which stops just under the curve of your ass.

so risqué. it only takes a strong breeze or a moment of clumsiness for whats underneath to be fully exposed. granted, he didn't know what you had on underneath. it could be anything: regular panties, a thong, boy shorts, a g-string or maybe even full commando. alas, it was most likely shorts but in his degenerate mind, under that oversized hoodie is your bare pussy and that tight, sweet hole that is dripping and begging for him.

"i-" you open your mouth to say something, then it instinctively scrunches up as you blurt out, "sorry, i know it's super weird of me to show up to your house announced like this. i tried to reach out to you on twitter but it has been taken down, then i tried your—" you falter, "—other account, but you deleted it." the last few sentences flew off your tongue in one breath so you pause to inhale sharply and catch your breath before continuing, "but if you're not comfortable with me being here, i can leave. i just wanted to talk to you."

hm, apparently he has been so busy self-loathing over the past few days that he didn't know twitter suspended his account. sounds about right. his shoulders are tense but they've eased up now that he can see you're almost as nervous as he is. "erm, we can talk. come in." he says bluntly, moving out of the way to let you.

unable to process how normal he's being about this, there's a pause before you stagger forward and into his large home. the floor are marble and everything is surprisingly modern and pleasantly fragranced; a subtle amber and sandalwood grace the space, as you're lead into his front lounge.

the couch is deceptively large, with a few seated all positioned around a glass top coffee table; this much seating would lead you to believe he frequently entertains large quantities of guests. which is not the case. regardless, he invited you to sit on the sofa while he takes a seat on the nearby chair, turning it around to face you.

the material beneath you is distractingly soft — is that cashmere? — you can't help but feel an tinge of jealousy at his luxurious lifestyle. but you are abruptly cut off from fantasising about living in his home, when kenma asks, "uhm, how did you find my address?"

"i'll tell you, but promise you won't think i'm a stalker."

he subtly raises an eyebrow. what kenma wanted to say in that moment was 'i bought a pair of your used underwear, jacked off to the smell and shot a load into them. i also own a tub of your bathwater. if anyone here could be considered a stalker, it's me.' but he figured that was too forward and probably not helpful to his objective of making you like him again, so instead he said, "i won't."

"okay.." you grimace, not sure how truthful he is being but figuring that honesty is the best policy anyway, "i remembered you bought some— stuff from me, a couple times. and whenever i take the parcels to the post office to be send, i always take a picture of it with the shipping label on, so that if it breaks or gets lost during transit i can prove that it was in good condition when i posted it. so looked back through all the photos and i found the one with your username and shipping address on it."

"how.." he trails off, "nevermind." he was going to ask how you were able to connect his username to him, but he recalled that you mentioned only 15 people bought your exclusive halloween pics, and of those 15 usernames it probably wasn't hard to connect 'kudzuken' to 'kuzome kenma'.

you awkwardly fidget with your fingers, eyes locked to your hands as you were far too embarrassed to make eye contact, "if you want to kick me out of your house, feel free."

once it again, he almost found it amusing that you were acting as though you were the freak for figuring out his address, when he is the one who pays for nude photos of you and jerks himself off to your videos. a smile dusts his lips but you don't look at him to notice, "i'm not going to kick you out."

"good." you sigh gently, finally finding the courage to meet his severe, amber gaze.

"i thought you'd be grossed out by what i said last time." now its his turn to let his eyes sheepishly drift to the side, softening his voice, "so why are you here?"

"not gonna lie, i kinda was grossed out at first." you admit, and kenma almost winces at this, "i was strange because i was under the impression that you didn't know who i was, but then it turns out you've been a big fan of mine and just hid that fact. i felt, like, weird, knowing i slept with a fan. and it made me question your motivation for reaching out to me in the first place."

"sorry.." he turns back to look at you, with a sincere tilt in his eyes, "about that."

you exchange a sympathetic look with him and say, "well, the more i thought about i realised that i enjoyed hanging out with you. i went back and edited the footage we got, and i had a really fun time filming with y—."

"di— did you post it?" kenma blurts out, eyes widened and heart jumping as you mention editing the video. he totally forgot about that; at the time he was more than happy to through away his youtube career for you, but he at least wanted to be around when the video dropped. he's been disconnected from social media and the online world for a few weeks now and it's fully possible that he may have made his debut as a pornstar and not even have known it.

"no, i didn't. i didn't want to post it if we weren't on good terms and without letting you review the finished product first." you explain calmly.

"oh, good." his hair, previous stood on ends, settled and his posture visibly relaxes. "sorry for interrupting."

"i was just saying that i think you're a sincere person. and i don't think you tried to maliciously fool me. i understand wanting to keep your professional and.. personal life separate." you consider your words very carefully as you speak, reflected in your cadence. "plus, i watched some of your old videos and, honestly, i think i just have a soft spot for you. we have a lot in common; you play a lot of the games i love." you laugh to yourself, "actually, i don't know if you know this but i used to be a video game streamer too. and i played a lot of the same games as you."

kenma opens his mouth then snaps it shut. his knee-jerk reaction is to deny any knowledge pertaining to your initial video game streaming career, in order to avoid seeming like more of a weirdo fanboy than he already does. however, after this whole interaction and principle of the situation, he decides to be honest and admits, "i remember you used to stream video games. it was fun."

he smiles and you giggle to yourself, "yeah. speaking of streaming, i've not done any for a while. have you?"

"no. i've been—" he splutters, looking to the side, "uh, distracted."

"me too." you agree. although, he's aware of the fact that when you say 'distracted' you mean by stress and real-life responsibilities. but when he says 'distracted' , he means by your tits in all their glory on his 32" 1440p 240Hz OLED monitor. the image of your spread legs and pussy might genuinely be burned into his screen, by this point.

"anyway, i'm glad we talked and cleared the air between us." you hum, standing up from his plush couch. "i hope we can still be friends. if you want, i could give you my number so we could stay in touch?"

flabbergasted, it takes him a moment to respond, but when he does he nods with a dumbfounded expression. then scrambles to pull his phone of his pocket, "uh, sure. here." he passes it to you with the 'new contact' screen active so you can input your detail. hastily, you do so and hand it back to him, at which he murmurs a "thanks."

"i'll see myself out. it was nice seeing you, kenma." you flash a final smile at him before turning around and making your way back through his grand home, towards the door. it's that sickening sweet smile that almost makes him nauseous; how could one girl be so perfect. he hates that he's so obsessed with you, but how could he not be?

"but, i—" his mouth works on its own as he calls out after you, causing you to stop in your tracks and turn around to look at him with a curious tilt of the head. it's only when your doe eyes meet his that he realises what he's done. his blood runs cold and his throat dries up; he mentally rebukes himself for opening his mouth. it's stupid. it's stupid what he wants to stay but now he's committed himself to saying it. he doesn't want to turn back now, no matter how light-headed he feel or how badly his stomach churns.

"but i still owe you a viral video."

"are you sure you want to do this?" you're sat on his lap, wearing nothing but your lacey black and boy shorts. had you known that coming to kenma's house would've led to this, you would've put on something a little more fancy but hey, at least the bra is cute.

similarly, all he has on are the black sweatpants he was wearing when you arrived, his hoodie has long since been discarded. he's sat at the edge of his bed with you in his lap, watching as you adjust the camera setting and angle of the ring-light. the was responsible for moving his streaming setup from his desk to end the of his bed, but optimising lighting and angles was more your department.

"that's the fifth time you've asked me that." he snickers as he replies.

you turn to him with furrowed brows, face pinched into a dismayed expression. "i just want you to know how serious this is. once you put the intimate parts of yourself on the internet, it's gonna be there forever. even if you change your mind and delete it later, it's still going to affect your life. trust me."

"i understand what i'm doing." he responds in an oddly calm tone., running a hand up and down your spine. "i think it would be funny to see everyone's reactions."

you roll your eyes playfully. he's heart-eyed and practically salivating over you, and clearly not paying full attention to what you're saying. whatever, he can't say you didn't warn him. plus, he's a grown man, he can deal with the consequences of his actions. you turn away from him and back to the setup; seem like you have everything ready — your lights, the camera and the computer which is connected.

your cursor hovers over the 'start stream' button and you look at him one last time and ask, "you ready?"

instead of verbally answering, he leans forward and presses the button for you. in an instant, the image of the two of you sat on the bed together comes up on the screen, alongside the chatbox. as the agreement stipulated, you logged in and are streaming on your nsfw account, so the initial influx of comments are all from your dedicated viewers who are likely confused as to why a random guy is suddenly making an appearance in your streams.

an0nymous732: who is this guy?? cedar__1: first time i've seen her with a guy nice5metre: its been so long nice5metre donated $10 snnailtrrail: who's the loser with the bad dye job? talonjoe: first stream in two weeks?!

you both largely ignore them for now, you're much more focussed on immediately getting your hands all over each other. you turn around so you are straddling him lap, knees planted on either side of his leg and sensually grinding against his crotch. now that you're facing him, he takes advantage of this to engage you in heated and sloppy kiss. there's a sense of urgency and carnal yearning when you kiss him, that you've never experieced with a man before. it's like he could kiss your face clean off, but not in a rough way — he's gentle yet hurried.

meanwhile, from behind the viewers get a fantastic view of your ass in those figure-hugging shorts, which kenma enhances when he reaches back and runs a hand up your thigh. when he gets to the top, he catches the edge of the fabric of your shorts and pulls it up, exposing more of your ass to the camera. once the fabric is out of the way slightly, he grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes it, eliciting a staggered moan from you.

he kisses down your neck and truthfully, your hip swaying movement have got him excited already. as he's sucking hickeys onto your neck, you can feel him getting firmer beneath you and his lips vibrate as he whimpers against your skin, muffled and barely detectable by the microphone.

the viewers can see the growing wet patch in your shorts as you grow increasingly turned on, and kenma becomes more antsy, palming roughly at the flesh of you ass until the fabric becomes too bothersome and he tugs at the shorts. he separates his mouth from your neck only to utter in a pleading tone, "can i take these off?" and although he tried to keep his voice hushed, the viewers were still able to pick up on the request.

you giggle slightly and nod, and he doesn't waste a moment before diving right back into action. peppering kisses down your neck and across your collarbone while his hands work to pull down your shorts and anything underneath, then you kick them off so your unobstructed ass is exposed to the camera. well, barring the obstruction that is both of kenma's hand now lewdly grabbing at and groping your skin.

usually by now the entire chat would be filled with your fans begging and asking for you to bend over so they can gawk at your pretty pussy too, but your special guest must have thrown them off their game today.

saintlane: his voice sounds so familiar cedar__1: wait... 90sreyner: has he been in a stream before?? talonjoe: that ass.. also i know him from somewhere talonjoe donated $30 chemicalzane: @.talonjoe from where? talonjoe: idk saintlane: :/

kenma spreads your thighs for the camera, allowing the viewers a fleeting glimpse of both holes. however, simultaneously you lean in to deepen the kiss and kenma falls onto his back, and both your arms support you in tabletop above him. still, your lips are connected and furiously making out, while one of his hand strokes your thigh and the other slips between your legs and rubs your cunt, broad strokes feeding your increasing lust.

his fingers slides between your slick folds without entering your hole at all, just enjoying the sensation of your soft, malleable pussy in his hands while his lips move in sync with yours. his palm then unexpectedly grinds against your clit and a whiny moan is torn from your throat, breaking the kiss.

while you look down at him with a pleading pout, you notice an astounded yet sinister glint in his eyes. as though he had just found your 'on switch' and fully planned on abusing it. as he did, almost immediately jumping into action and pinching and rubbing your poor clit, overloading her with tons of stimulation all at once.

you've not touched yourself or gotten off all since kenma's last visit so needless to say you were a little sensitive. the piercing pleasure from the pinch followed by the dull arousal from the rubbing sent shock waves up your spine and made you light-headed, and also liquefied any strength in your arms. naturally, they both go limp beneath you and your head falls against his chest.

kenma doesn't take this as a sign to stop though, in fact the rubbing only became more furious. he caresses the top of your head with his hand and whispers, "there you go. good girl. relax on me." after stroking your cheek with his thumb and pressing a soft kiss to your head, he moves his hand down and slips two fingers into your soaked cunt.

your juices are already running down his hand and dripping onto the bed, causing lewd squelching noises as he begins to pump his fingers in and out. all while his other hand is still cruelly poking and pulling at your throbbing clit. "so wet for me." he says under his breath.

the viewers have a premium view of him knuckles-deep in your cunt; legs spread all pretty for the camera, the light glistening against the wetness smeared across your thighs. your hole is stretched perfectly around his fingers, distracting — but all it takes is one person to realise before the entire chat explodes into chaos.

snnailtrrail: i'd die for that tight pussy snnailtrrail donated $25 c0llapse: so damn wet!! tet_ris: haha he kinda sounds like applepi backrolls: wanna motorboat in that ass saintlane: is that applepi?! chemicalzane: omfg no way that's him claaayhoe: could be a lookalike ??

stage one: denial.

both his hands are working expertly on your pussy. the immense pleasure from his fingers working your insides and pumping into your sopping pussy, in tandem with the electric jolts from the torture of your poor sensitive clit, is extremely overwhelming. your cunt feels like its vibrating with overstimulation and your abdomen twists with euphoria.

your arms are jelly as splayed out next to you as you lay on kenma's chest, tits pressed against his torso. your mind is melting in your skull but you can still his the thumping of his heart through it.

it's not long before your core can't twist any further and knot snaps; your walls flutter around his fingers and your throat emits a string of loud, staggered moans as you hurtle through your first orgasm. kenma doesn't stop inserting his fingers into you and frantically rubbing your clit, providing you with a steady flow of stimulation all the way through your ride.

once you're finished, it almost hurts when he pulls his fingers out of your pussy and leaves you with a dripping emptiness. similarly, your throbbing clit finds momentarily solace in the removal of his fingers, but soon enough its twitch and searching for that pressure again; he's been going at it for so long it almost feel wrong that you clit isn't under any sort of strain anymore.

he wipes his fingers on the bedsheet and places on hand on the dip of your back, and the other on the base of your neck. watching the fall and rise of your back carefully, he asks, "how was that?" in a low tone.

"g—good." you stammer out, throat still a bit sore from the exhausting noises you were making. since you're laid on him, you can feel his cock straining against his sweatpants, a thick bulge prodding at your thigh, "want me to ride you?"

he nods, a gentle smile gracing his lips, "yeah."

without needing to be asked twice, you eagerly sit up and straddle pelvis, leaving kenma stunned at how short your recovery period is — although you are a professional, so perhaps he shouldn't be so shocked, more so impressed.

however, as you situate yourself on him and begin to tug at this sweats to pull out his cock, he pulls the material out of your grip and keeps his sweats on. the baffled look you give him prompts him to explain, "i meant you can ride my face."

he says in a strikingly plain way. it catches you off-guard when he extends his hands to your hips and uses the grip to guide you up his torse, until both your legs are planted either side of his head. he look up at you with those heart-eyes again, and you feel a part of yourself melt.

wordlessly, he urges you to take a seat by squeezing your thigh, and it doesn't take much for you too comply. happily relaxing your legs and letting your pussy lower onto his mouth, and your toes immediately curl as his lips melt against yours, making out with your already slick cunt, a mess of saliva and wetness staining his cheeks and chin.

"missed this— mmph, so fucking much." he grumbles between licks, each time coming back and sucking at your clit more keenly than before. "tastes so good." he wants to say that he's been dreaming of devouring your wet cunt ever since the last time he saw you; that he wants to do this all day; that he could happily live and die with you riding his face. but saying all of that would take too long, and the more time he spends talking, the less time he can spend with his mouth latched onto your pussy. hence, it comes out as incoherent garble as he laps at your clit and proceeds that by shoving his tongue into your hole.

"mm, fuck." you whine. you're not sure what to do with yourself, how to cope with the intense pleasure. your fingers are knitted into his hair, tugging at his brown roots, and your hips are grinding down on his face, greedily seeking even more stimulation than the plenty he is already giving you. when his tongue slips into your hole, that really awakens something in you, and you can't help but toss your head back and moan, "nngh— kenma.."

which is the final nail in the coffin.

chemicalzane: THAT'S FUCKING APPLEPI?! patrol7724: did she just say KENMA?! redherring: i want to taste her so bad claaayhoe: applepi!!!! slothman76: let me have a bite next slothman76 donated $69 colawithlemon: i can't believe applepi is here colawithlemon: this has to be a prank snnailtrrail: who tf is applepi?

his tongue worms its way around your walls, pressing up against your sweet points and stretching you as much as he can. it pulls back out so he can continue to kiss your folds and suck on your clit, gently biting it and reintroducing it to unforgiving stimuli.

there's a sort of desperation in the way his mouth moves against your cunt. you're rhythmically grinding down on him but nothing it timed or practised about the way he devours you. "its.. hah, too much!" you're hardly able to keep track of where his tongue is before it moves on: from rubbing your clit to licking between your folds to plunging into your hole. he's everywhere and your body can't even begin to process it.

your ass stops bouncing as you can no longer muster the strength in your legs to grind on him. in fact, every feeble attempt you make to move slightly is now prevented by kenma's arms hooking around your thighs and pressing you even further down onto his face, so you can't escape his love.

"tastes like heaven, kitten." "stay put f' me." "drive me fucking crazy." "can't get enough of you." "never want this to end." "sweet little hole." "come on my mouth, please. wanna feel it again." are all things he feverishly mutters into your pussy as he eats it. they're muffled by your skin so you, nor the audience, can fully understand what he is saying, but you get the impression he's enjoying himself none the less.

and this eagerness to please you only turns you on even more. it's not long until your clit is aching and your walls constrict around his tongue. in fact, your whole body tenses as you ride through your climax; a high-pitched cry accompanying it and your eyes rolls back in your head. "fuck— kenma, nghh— please, yes!" it feels like a wet heat surging through your body, before it lets go and you can finally relax again.

kenma is looking up at you with doting eyes, and you hesitantly move off his face to reveal the mess you made. frowning, you go to wipe it away with your palm, but he grabs your hands and kisses your knuckles instead, "that was perfect." another kiss on your hand, "you're perfect. god, you're so fucking perfect." the more he repeats it, the more pained he sounds, almost like he's about to cry.

"please." there's a wobbly smile on his face. "can i fill you up?"

"you can do whatever you want to me, kenma." you say, low and sensual, "i'm yours."

redherring: i want to eat her ass next milkywayy: it really is applpi?! what is he doing here?! chemicalzane: most random career change redlemon7ade donated $12 patrol7724 donated $70 90sreyner: applepi is a munch confirmed? elderlyc7ock: she's so sexy tet_ris: how did applepi bag a baddie?

he wipes the slick away from his face with his forearm while you climb off his face and sit on the bed, sideways to the camera. you brace yourself with your arms and lean back slightly as you spread your legs for him, giving him full view of your cunt. you even use two of your fingers to part your folds, and your middle one to idly stroke yourself. nothing fast or rough, in fact your finger was practically ghosting over your skin, but just enough to get him going.

he sits up on his knees and simply watches, aghast, his wide eyes darting between your face and your pussy. you chew on your bottom lip slightly then whisper, "please." you almost hiccup, "i want it so bad."

at that, he virtually pounces on you, rushing forward to fix himself between your legs and hastily pull down the front his sweats to whip out his cock, which he then positions right at your entrance. as he's doing this you're swept up and are pushed slightly so your back is against the back, and you're propping up your upper body with your arms. you've also discarded your bra by now.

"ah." he sighs, relishing in your wet, soft folds pressing against his weeping tip as he runs it up and down your pussy, smearing the slick around without entering just yet. his erection has been aching in his pants for ages, but up until know he's been too distracted to fully acknowledge it, now the discomfort is hitting him all at once.

"so cute.." he hurriedly brushes his tip against your pussy, seeking some quick relief to calm him down before he enters your hole, so he doesn't bust as soon as he sinks in. however, he unintentionally begins to brush against your clit with his firm tip, which causes your pussy to visibly flutter and a moan to escape your lips, and perhaps your porno reflexes kick in a little as you intentionally play up your reaction for the camera by tossing your head back, jerking your leg out, grabbing your nipple and squealing, "fuck! right there, k— huh, kenma! more, puh—please."

shit. and just like that, kenma's nose scrunches and he cums onto your pussy and his bed. spurts of his semen sling to your slick and paint your folds, while a lot of it drips down and pours onto his grey bedsheets.

while he internally wallows in embarrassment, you reach forward to your cum-smeared pussy again and slide your fingers cross it, a lewd mix of his cum and your own arousal sticking to your finger. without a second of hesitation, you insert the finger into your mouth and suck it clean, while kenma gapes at you the whole time. and you make a real scene of it too, exaggerating suckling noises and letting some spill from your fingers down your chin and onto your newly exposed tits.

once your done you sheepishly clear the residue from your face then set your hand behind yourself again for support and hum, "sorry, wanted some in my mouth." you apologise and feign shame even though you know you don't need to. and just as you thought, the mere sight of you licking up his seed and the notion of it tickling down your throat was enough to make him rock hard again in no time.

swiftly moving on, he aligns his stiffened cock with your hole and does his best to ignore the stickiness. and without asking first, he gladly pushes himself into you, sinking his entire length into your tight hole with one long push. "mm, finally.." he groans, eyes squeezing shut and he savours the feeling of your homey walls welcoming him. this is the first time he's been able to fully relax in weeks — with no worries or doubts plaguing his mind, right now he's fully present and contented. "feels like you're ahh— choking me." feels like he's finally home, but he'll still never be able to get used to your vice-like grip on him.

once he bottoms out, he releases a prolonged sigh, then calmly takes both of your legs and places them on his shoulders. this is all done at such a leisurely pace, that it somewhat catches you off-guard when his demeanour suddenly shifts and he says lowly, "i promise i'm going to fucking destroy you." before jumping into action and pulling his cock out, only to instantly slam it back into you.

slothman76: bet she's as tight as a virgin redherring: i swear i'll donate $1000 if she squirts claaayhoe: applepi has been packing this whole time?! myadiamond: he nutted so quick myadiamond: maybe he should stick 2 video games nice5metre: gorgeous angel nice5metre donated $50 banamonke: this is NOT bed wars

and he keeps going. using every morsel of strength in his body to lay into as fast and hard as possible. his balls slap against your ass and his skins sticks to the mess coating your cunt, resulting in an audible and obscene schlick schlick noise accompanying every furious thrust.

"nggh, hurts!" you squeal out between moans, the pure fury and intention behind every powerful thrust shaking your entire body, making your tits bounce every time his hips made a brutal impact with yours. "ca—can't take it!"

"i've huh— seen you take a lot worse, baby." he not sure how true that is; he thinks he's seen you take 10 inch dildo before — which is monstrous compared to his mere 6 inches — but he's not entirely sure. usually he had an near eidetic memory of all your videos and streams, as well as an intricate knowledge of your collection of toys. however, now his brain is fried and clouded with lust and desire. he's actively living out his very own stream with you, which poses as a massive distraction. you've filled his mind with nothing but the desire make you scream and to see your pretty pussy flooded with his cum.

"'ts too biiig!" you stretch the vowel in big for a long whine as your arch your back thoughtlessly. it's like your walls are being split open to accommodate his thick length, and you can feel the tip now beating against your cervix. it's all so rough and overwhelming; you've never been handled like this before. or maybe you have, your brain is too fucked out to recall.

"no. no, kitte— shit." he growls, leaning forward while keeping your legs on his shoulders so they're brought close to your ears, where he stops and continues, "you're too tight, but i'm— ngh, making it fit." he kisses down your neck while maintaining a steady pace rocking into your hole, only stopping the pecks when he reaches your tits. "i've waited so long for this."

he takes one nipple in his mouth while his fingers pinch and tug on the other. it's such a delightful pain, mixed with the ecstasy of your walls being forced open by his cock still ramming into your pussy at a delirious pace. you wanted to moan but it came out more like shrieks. the flat part of his tongue licks at your sensitive bud then his lips continue to suckle it, a dull satisfaction radiating through your chest and tying your stomach into knots. "mm, that's it, kitten. scream f' me."

some time passes before he switches and kindly latches onto yoour other nipple, and the piercing sensation is swapped as well, as your other nub is repeatedly captured, pulled on and tweaked between his fingers, until a shocking pressure is applied causing you to hiss and your tit to throb. but it would only last a second before it would dissipate and the process would repeat. "soft n' pretty tits. so sensitive too." his hips slowly down slightly, but only so you could feel it even more when he proves his point by pinching and pulling on your nipple with the shocking callousness, and unlike before, this indecent torture lasted at least five seconds before he let go.

"ow— owch, kenma." you were panting, breathless at this point. the pent-up frustrations he'd been repressing over the last couple weeks were certainly on full display now. although he does place an apologetic kiss on the nipple before straightening his back, so your legs are no longer at your ears. he quickens his pace again and the friction of his cock against your damp insides is really starting to get to you.

"i think m' close." you moan, and he knows you're close. in fact, he might know your own body better than you do. hence, he knows what he needs to do. he keeps thrusting into your drenched cunt and strokes your calf with one hand, while the other visits your clit again.

"cum for me, baby. go on. it'd make— hah! make me so happy."

your head turns to the side and your eyes squeeze shut. there's something different about it this time. something fiery ignited in your abdomen that's churning and dying to be let out. you're more breathless than usual and your pussy already feels like a heavy mess, painted in his first load. in combination with the pads of his finger attacking your clit and his ruthless cock tearing up your insides, you're not sure if you can handle this.

you defiantly turn your head to the other side, "i— mppph, i— oh!" your knees wobble in the air and you partially choke on your own spit, "i cuh— can't!" is all your able to stammer out.

"you can. just relax, kitten. let go, you're almost there." his speech is also slurred with hiccups and hushed moans but it's coherent enough for you to get the message. it's hard to form a intelligible thought while trying to keep a good pace and deal with your pussy's tight hold on his cock, but he somehow manages, "please, baby. you're so close. c'mon, i'm right here, i've got you. just— mph, let go, lemme take care of you."

this might be the most you've ever heard him talk, and it's all horny blubbering as he begs you to come for him. it doesn't make a lot of sense but you try to do what he says. it's hard to relax when you feel like your pussy is being split in half but you try. breathing out through your nose and instead of agitatedly tossing your head and shuffling your hips, you remain as still as possible. still, your jaw moves to let out a barrage of pornographic moans and curses.

"that's it. ease up, baby." he reassures, caressing your legs lovingly and continuing to pummel into your hole. the sounds are increasingly wet and disruptive but it doesn't matter, he keeps laying into you until the fiery chain circling your insides snaps and you climax around his cock. your walls spasms around his length and a guttural whine is yanked from your core, "oh, fuckfuckfuck— kenma!"

he knows how this goes by now. "m' right here," he repeats, "ride it through. just like that, good girl." his voice is monotone and low yet still so immensely tender. you never thought a novice would be talking you through it, but here you are.

he tries to continue to fuck you through your high but as expected, your cunt is clinging to him like it doesn't want him to leave. and the intense twitching and rapid constricting makes it so that he doesn't want to leave, so instead he leads you through your climax by rubbing your clit feverishly.

which does job. as he watches the dam break and your squirt erupt from your pussy around him, gushing over his balls and onto the bedsheets, his muscle memory kicks in and he cums inside you. there's just something about seeing squirt rush from your hole that triggers the autopilot in his mind that makes dump his load in you.

by the time your both done, you're gasping for breath and completely spent. there's a squelching noise as kenma pulls out of you, looking at the mess he's made — there's cum all over your thighs, your labia, peeking out of your hole and some had even trickled down to your ass. unfortunately that is enough to get him hard again, but he's so tired he think he might have to wait this one out.

as you guys take a moment to catch your breath, you finally have a moment to look over at the camera and the chatbox on the computer.

redherring: honestly i didn't think he'd be able to do it redherring donated $1000 myadiamond: paying a woman 2 have sex w/ u is illegal btw xosbliva: so hot pls squirt again chemicalzane: WHY IS APPLEPI HERE?! 90sreyner: applepi tell her to shake it pls n thx rfgvlpq333: HELPPP IS THAT APPLEPI!? user747396190: i didn't believe but im 90% sure thats him O.O snnailtrrail: sweetie blink twice if you need us to call someone

it seems like the stream has breached containment. someone must've posted the link on some other social media, telling people that applepi is in it, and now there is an influx of his own fans and other curious souls who are clutching their pearls.

it's fine, though. this is what he knew was going to happen and watch he signed up for. it doesn't phase him. although, something that is bothering him more than he expected are all the comments implying that he paid or otherwise coerced you into having sex with him.

sure, you're way out of his league. but he has other redeeming qualities! plus, it's not the internet's job to tell you who is and isn't good enough for you to fuck. he hates that it's making him angry and that he's letting their comments affect him — throughout his streamer career he's been pretty good at ignoring negativity — but this is different. it makes him feel like he needs to prove a point.

once some time has passed, he sits on the edge of the bed closest to the camera, facing it. turning around, he offers you a slight smile and gestures for you to sit on his lap. substantially less worn out now, you find the energy to crawl up to him and perch yourself on his lap, with your back against his chest so you can face the camera too.

but in one swift motion, he lifts you up and sits your ass down on his stiffened cock, pushing it right into your asshole. the semen and slick still coating his length serve as somewhat of a lube, but it's still a struggle to cram him all in there. you cry out in response but don't resist at all, instead you wiggle around pliantly until you find a position that is least uncomfortable.

he also reaches forward and pries your legs open and of course you yield to his touch, so the camera gets a close-up view of your pussy, painted in a sticky coat of both your arousal and stuffed full of his seed. a bit of it pokes out your pussy but he gently guides it back into your hole, where it belongs. he inserts his entire digit in order to properly push his cum right back into you, before pulling out again.

he strokes your thigh lovingly, eyes flickering over the flood of comments. " 'will i be in more videos?'.. i suppose that's for (y/n) to decide." his chin is over your shoulder and he looks up at the side of your face expectantly.

you gulp. you're hardly able to process what's going on with his fat cock stretching out your asshole and his hot seed clogging up your insides. not to mention that the finger that was in your hole is now ghosting over your clit, tauntingly. "uh, sorry— ahem," you clear your throat in hopes to sound less meek, "could you repeat that?"

"will i be in more streams or videos?"

"oh!" you chirp, as though what he said was clarifying and not the first time you were able to comprehend him, "if you want. i h—"

he interrupts you states, "talk to them, not me." he uses his finger to guide your chin forward, so you're looking directly at the camera. this is definitely not your first time sitting in front of a audience with a dick in your ass and pussy on show, yet suddenly it's extremely nerve-wracking. maybe it's the fact that this time the dick isn't plastic. or maybe you're nervous cos there's ten times the amount of people watching than there normally are.

"uhh, i just saying— mph, i had fun today! i'd love for kenma to be in more videos."

"cool." he smiles, giving your swollen clit a brief yet deep stroke as a reward. "another commenter is wondering how we met." he waits for your response.

you don't make the mistake of looking at him again and instead reply breathlessly to the camera, "we were— uh, fans of each other's videos and then he reached out and asked if i wanted to collab and then.." you blurt it all out as one long as quick sentence so you can speak for as little time as possible, "then the rest is history."

pleased with this answer, he shuffles slightly in place and the shift in pressure of his cock against your walls elicits a small whine from you. pressing on like nothing happened, "oh, a funny one. someone asked if we're dating." there's a hint of amusement in his voice, and he looks to you and asks, "is it okay if i answer this one?"

"please."

"cool." he clicks his tongue, ignoring you almost coming undone on his lap. "uh, i'm going to answer with more of a— erm, demonstration."

before you get the chance to question what he means by this, his fingers dart to your spread cunt, one hand abusing your poor clit and the other one roughly fingering your soiled hole. every time he thrusts into you, some of his cum spills out from the sides of his fingers and drips onto the floor, while the rest is pushed even further towards your cervix.

he peppers kisses across your shoulder, then up your neck until his nose is right in the crook and he mutters, "like that, baby?"

"yeahh.." you moan into the air.

he pauses marking your neck with deep hickeys, only to ask, "want me to stop?"

"mmh, no." you exhale through your nose and fully relax into him. that's when the hand in your pussy peels outs, covered in that mess of fluids, and rises to your chest, toying with your already sore and aching nipples. they're still sensitive from being overstimulated just recently, even the palm of his hand grazing the tip is enough to send a jolt of electric coursing through you. so you're hardly able to deal with it when he starts groping your tit lazily, then tweaking and pinching your nipples whenever he felt like it. you can feel your pussy start to get even slicker.

"whose cum is stuffed in you right now? who's dripping out of that cute pussy?" his voice drops as he continues to litter kisses over your shoulder and neck. occasionally stopping to suck a deep hickey into your skin.

"yours." you reply shallowly.

"speak up, kitten." he pinches you clit and your whole body visibly stiffens and perks up, "yoursyours! it's yours, kenma!"

he lets go of your clit, but still rubs it at an excruciatingly slow and teasing pace. he also does a poor job at hiding the fact that when you tensed, your ass gripped him even harder and he had to catch himself before he busted.

"whose gunna be carrying my baby soon?" his briefly drops from your tits to caress your stomach, smearing the stickiness on it too, before returning to your nipples.

it doesn't feel like an apt time to disclose that you're on birth control, so instead you whimper out, "me."

"do you want another load in your ass?"

"yes, y— hah, ohmygod— yes, please, kenma. give it t' me." you squeak out, eyes screwed shut.

he shifts his hands back down so they are both concentrated on your cunt, one on your clit and the other pumping into your hole again. this time doing slow and calculated thrust, while the tips of his fingers were shoving against your tired walls until they angle themselves directly at your g spot.

"then tell the camera who you belong to."

your toes curl and your teeth grind together. it like you're being consumed by his presence; every nerve you have is at his mercy. your asshole his saturated by his twitching length, your poor clit is still being flicked and your pussy is seeping with his cum and being relentlessly fingered. even the cold air is working against you as it nips at your sensitive tits.

his face is nuzzled into your neck, kissing up it until he reaches the tilt of your jaw and he presses, "tell everyone who owns you."

all at once you blurt out, " 'm yours! i belong to you, k— uuhhh, kenma. all yours."

"good." his fingers hasten, slamming down on your sore spot now, "whose pussy is this?"

"yours! every fucking inch of it is— hah, yours!"

"that's right." he mercilessly fingers your poor hole and rubs your clit, putting motion into his hips too as he bucks into your ass as much as he can. he's coming at you from every angle, pleasing you from every direction and soon enough, you come undone all over his hands and your squirt comes gushing out of your stuffed pussy, splashing largely on the floor but due to his hips bucking you around, some of it ends up on the camera lens.

your asshole tightens around him as you come, hence he follows shortly after and deposits another load into you. his fingers slip out of your cunt and both his hands disappear behind him, he tries to use them as support but he ends up laying back on the bed anyway, completely spent.

cautiously, you close your legs, which feels unnatural to do after they've been held open for so long. additionally, you lift yourself off his cock and quiet whimper as you can feel his load move inside your ass and slowly begin to trickle out. trying not to pay any mind to it, you also collapse on the bed next to him.

once you both regain your bearings and the mind haze somewhat clears up, he invites you to come lay in his arms, and you shuffle over and do so. laid nice and snug against his chest while his arms envelop you and he strokes your back.

"that was fun." he whispers, "thank you."

"you don't have to thank me." you giggle, but promptly stop when you realise it takes too much energy to laugh. or even talk. "lets just go to sleep."

"sure.." he agrees, letting his eyes drift shut as he focuses on the rising and falling of your chests together.

until they shoot open again. "what about the stream?"

"i can't get up." you groan.

"me neither.." he admits, blinking twice before letting his heavy eyes fall shut again, "whatever. we'll deal with it later."

rxli: WHAT IS GOING ON?! milkywayy donated $40 milkywayy: she's so hot where can i watch more of her stuff?? elderlyc7ock: encore! slothman76: missed that pussy so bad myadiamond: @.milkywayy this is her acc dummy tet_ris: we just witnessed history tet_ris: this is the first time a league player has ever gotten laid

It’s the most picture perfect Saturday morning in August—the sun coming in all warm and golden through the kitchen windows, the air still cool before it turns gross and sticky later, and birds singing like they’re only there to romanticize the start of the semester. The first week of classes is over, no assignments due and no responsibilities pulling at you yet. Everything is so quiet and calm. So peaceful.

You should be in bed. Still asleep. Rotting peacefully all warm n’ cozy under your comforter.

But no.

You’re in Enjin’s kitchen at the ass crack of dawn making this dumbass hangover remedies.

The blender kicks on and he groans from the table behind you like he’s on life support. “Does that thing know how to be quiet?”

“Enjin.” Could he be any more dramatic? “It's a blender.”

“Okay? They need to invent quieter ones.”

He went too hard at his frat’s opening party last night. Gris had to physically drag his barely functioning body home earlier this morning, and not even twenty minutes later he was calling you whining and all pathetic, “Please come help me, ma'…”

Were you shocked by the condition he was in? Not even a little. If anything, this is tame for an early-semester hangover. You’ve seen him way worse, like, foaming at the mouth and nonverbal. You’re surprised he hadn’t died from alcohol poisoning along the way.

Did you start bitching at him the second you walked through the door? Obviously. And did he have the nerve to squint at you and go, “Baby, can you not? My head is literally splitting,” like you’re the villain here? Yes. Which only made you double down, because the audacity of catching an attitude while you’re voluntarily providing emergency services before your internal alarm clock went off is, quite frankly, insane.

But you still got to work anyway.

You set the smoothie down in front of him, then slide over the plate of eggs and toast you made. It looks wholesome sitting next to the half-drunk Gatorade he’s been nursing since he woke up.

He stares at the plate, poking at the eggs and breaking the yolk. “I kinda thought you’d bring McDonald’s or something…”

You smack him upside the head and point at the food. Enjin glares at you, yet takes a bite anyway. He can whine all he wants, but he’s the one who begged you to come over—not to mention your breakfast clears a McGriddle by a mile.

Sitting across from him with your arms crossed, you yawn. You were up late too—just not stumbling around his frat house. You stayed in, binge-watching shows to reset your brain after getting handed all your new classes this week.

Enjin had something to say about that too, complaining about how your attendance at his frat was so important to him. But that’s when all the crazies come out, and there was no way you were dealing with blackout freshmen puking on your shoes.

It was bad enough you’re stuck taking care of an almost-puking Enjin as it is.

He's talking, nearly spitting pieces of egg at you.

“Ew, gross—don’t talk with your mouth full. I know your mom taught you better than that.”

He ignores the jab and picks up a piece of toast, holding it out toward you. “You’re going to make a good wife someday, you’ve already had plenty of practice with me.”

You snort. “I don’t play wife with you, I’m basically your maid.”

“Maid, wife. Same difference.”

“You’re such a dick, you know that?”

Your eyes drift past him to the wall behind the kitchen table. The photos are still taped up unevenly with peeling corners—pictures of his frat brothers, old high school friends, random blurry party shots. Then there are the ones of you two.

Prom. Graduation. One from the first time you ever hung out outside of school—both of you younger, awkward, not quite this version of yourselves yet.

You’ve been best friends since high school. He was new, and you were assigned to show him around. He wasn’t all that different back then—still sassy and observant—but he was quieter, less sure of himself, and you were the first person who made the place feel less foreign for him.

Sometimes you think it was fate that shoved you into each other’s lives that day, because without it, you probably would’ve stayed in completely separate circles. You don’t think you would’ve chosen each other on purpose.

As much as you can’t stand him some days, you’re inseparable. He’s—corny as it sounds—your person. And if anyone asked him, he’d say you’re his too. Zero hesitation.

And if things weren’t already stereotypical enough as is, you’d definitely had feelings for him at one point—because who wouldn’t have? Enjin’s always been a hot shot. Even as a teenager he's had that thing about him. It wasn’t exactly earth shattering and shocking that you developed a crush.

You had a boyfriend when the two of you first met (sadly your first and only one, actually), which ended a bit after you and Enjin became inseparable. He said it was because of how close you were. At the time it felt crazy dramatic, but looking back, you get it. When you’re young, any attractive guy with that kind of presence feels like competition. 

Especially one who seems to understand you better than your own boyfriend does.

And once that fell apart, you fell. Head over your damn heels. He’s cute and funny, makes you feel important and treats you like you're his girl—just not officially. Princess treatment before it was even a joke between you two—to this day you’re spoiled absolutely rotten. It wasn’t exactly hard to grow heart eyes.

But first and foremost, you were his best friend. That was the foundation, and always had been. And over time, that really did become enough.

It took a little while to settle into that reality, sure. But as you both grew up and matured, you realized something important—you didn’t want to risk losing your person over feelings that might complicate everything. Being his homegirl, his ride or die, the one he calls first—that meant more than anything ever could.

~

One month later…

“Excuse me.”

You turn at the voice behind you.

It’s some guy you’re pretty sure you haven’t noticed in this lecture before—and you feel like you would’ve remembered him. He’s got this blank, almost drained expression—like he hasn’t slept in weeks, which is pretty impressive considering it’s only the second week of the semester. There are faint streaks of grey in his hair too. Damn, how old is this guy?

Okay, he doesn’t look old. Just like he’s lived three lives already and none of them went smoothly. Here’s to a fourth?

“Do you have this week’s notes?” he asks. His voice is nice, low and deep. Pretty, even. It just sounds like he’s running on a dead battery.

“Yeah,” you tap your laptop. “They’re all on here though.” He nods once. “That’s fine.”

There’s a pause. He’s still looking at you.

“So… Do you want me to email them to you, or…?”

He nods again and gestures toward your laptop.

You hesitate for half a second—because, hello, stranger—but hand it over anyway.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in class before,” you say, attempting small talk while he types in his email. He doesn’t look up. “I’m always in the back. I moved up a few seats because someone kept taking mine.”

“This late in?” You let out a small laugh. “Swear some people don’t understand seating rules.”

“There are seating rules?”

“Um… yeah. Like, once you pick your seat the first week, everyone just collectively agrees that’s your spot.”

He finishes typing and hands the laptop back to you. You’re still not sure what to make of him. You glance at the email he sent it to. “Zodyl… cool name.”

“Thank you.”

You try to introduce yourself in return, but he cuts you off, “I know.”

You’re spent thinking about that interaction for the rest of the day. You’ve met some interesting people before, but he’s definitely up there.

Later that evening, sprawled out on your floor and staring at the ceiling while Enjin lounges on your bed—you’re rambling, replaying every second of it while he half listens, tossing in comments whenever he feels like it.

“He kind of looks like a bug,” you say, sitting up suddenly. “Wait. What if he is a bug and just hasn’t figured out human interaction yet?”

Enjin hums. “Sounds like you’re bug-phobic.”

“I am not! I can be accepting of bug people. He seems nice enough. Just… super weird.”

“Maybe he thought you were pretty. Made him nervous.”

“He did not seem into me—”

“Nah, he wanted a piece of that and short-circuited.”

You smack his leg. “Shut up. Quit being an ass.”

“I’m serious!” He kicks that same hand, “Guys get weird when they’re into someone.”

He’s not overly concerned about this Zodyl guy, but you forming connections with random men has always made him cautious.

Enjin knows how guys are. He is one—and you’re his girl to look out for.

“Zodyl…” He finally looks up from his phone to glance at you on the floor. “Isn’t he the one who hangs out with that super wacked-out group?”

You scoff. “Aren’t you one to talk.”

“I think he’s a narc. Actually—no. Maybe not. Pretty sure one of his friends is on drugs.”

“Can you be nice for, like, two seconds?”

“Says the girl who just called him a bug. Guess we’re both hypocrites.”

~

When you walk into class again, Zodyl is sitting in the seat next to yours. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you drop your bag down and pull your chair out, just sits there facing forward like a creepy NPC in a horror game. 

You've started unpacking your things when he speaks. “Thank you for your help.”

“With…?”

“Lending me your notes.”

“Oh.” You remember. “Yeah, no worries. I’m glad I’m not taking them for nothing.”

“I didn’t steal anyone’s seat.” Zodyl looks at your confused expression for a brief second before facing forward again. “The seating rules.” He adds, a strand of hair falling near his nose in a way that feels cinematic. “No one had been sitting here. I didn’t take a seat.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I mean, I wasn’t filing a complaint.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was inconsiderate.”

The professor starts shuffling papers at the front, and students are settling in. “Do you care if I stay here?” he asks.

You look at him properly this time. Okay, maybe he doesn’t seem as strange up close. “Not at all,” you say, smiling. “Mi casa es su casa.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” You wave it off. “You’re welcome to sit there, Zodyl.”

After class, he hands you a piece of paper. You take it, looking confused as you glance down at it and back up at him.

He gestures toward sheet in your hand. “Your number.”

You blink. “My phone number?”

Passing you a pen as confirmation, you think he could’ve passed you his phone instead—but sure. This works too.

“If I need more help. You do well with this subject.”

“Yeah, of course!” You beam at the compliment. “Always happy to be of assistance.” You think, just for the faintest moment, there may be the slight chance of the smallest smile on his face. Or you’re crazy.

As he’s going to leave, “I like your sweater. Purple is a nice color on you.”

Later that afternoon, you burst into Enjin’s apartment without knocking. “Zodyl asked for my phone number. Well, sort of. He didn’t really ask—”

Enjin barely reacts to the intrusion—you do this all the time—mid-sip of his beer.

“Bug-man?” He asks, eyeing you as you pace around his kitchen.

“Yes, bug-man,” you’re practically doing laps around the room. “But he’s not actually that scary up close.”

“He was up close?”

“He moved to the seat next to mine. And then asked if it was okay that he stayed there.” Pause. “It was kind of cute.”

“So now bugs are cute?”

You grab an apple off his counter and throw it at him. “Shut up, Jin’. I’m trying to tell you what happened.”

Enjin holds his free hand up in mock surrender. “My bad, mama. Continue.”

Your pacing begins again, along with the rambling. “He kept staring at me. Like, a lot. At first it was uncomfortable. Full eye contact, no blinking. I thought he was glitching.”

“Some people pay extra for that kind of attention.”

“What did I tell you about shutting up? Anyway, he asked for my number. Said it was for ‘help with class,’ but then he complimented my sweater.”

Putting your hands on your hips, you grin at Enjin, all teeth and bright eyes. “So now I’m kind of flattered by the staring. Maybe you were right. Maybe he does think I’m cute.”

Enjin tilts his head, “Of course he thinks you’re cute,” a beer is tossed to you. “I’ve been saying that. Took someone long enough to catch up.”

He gestures his can towards you. “Just don’t let him steal my spotlight.”

Which, unfortunately, after a few weeks, kind of started happening.

You were talking to Zodyl more. In class, obviously—but outside of it too. Sure, sometimes it was about lecture stuff—he did need help here and there. But he’d also start talking about projects he was working on, random ideas, or things he was building.

You still made time for Enjin, it would’ve been crazy not to. The routine included being at his place constantly, or he was at yours, or you were out somewhere with the group, or at one of his parties. You saw him pretty much every day.

But now, sometimes your phone would buzz and you’d glance down mid-conversation. Or you’d cut yourself off to respond to a text. Or you’d casually bring up bug-man (the nickname stuck).

It wasn’t that you had a new guy friend. You’ve always had them. You and Enjin share a huge friend group—you’re close with Gris, with Follo, with August and Corvus—even the dweeb kids Zanka and Rudo that Enjin somehow adopted during his fraternity service hours at the high school. You being friends with other guys has never been new, never been weird, and never been a problem.

What was new was that this guy was clearly into you.

And, again, Enjin knows how guys are. Enjin is guys. Mr. Easy. Mr. I-know-exactly-what-they’re-thinking-because-I’m-thinking-it-too. So yeah, it made him stressed. Not because he thought you couldn’t handle yourself—but because he knew how quickly things could flip. He didn’t like the idea of you getting played, used, or fed some bullshit.

You were his to look out for.

At first he didn’t pay much attention to Zodyl. But now? His guard was fully up, because if anyone was going to rescue you from a bad situation, it was him.

He crashed out a little when you skipped your weekly fast-food movie night to study with that… thing. You hadn’t missed one since you started them as teenagers. Sick? He’d just show up at yours. Busy? You’d make it work.

But no. Here comes the cockroach, interrupting tradition.

It didn’t help that Zodyl knew who he was, too. Which, okay—fair. Enjin was known campus-wide for more than a few reasons. That wasn’t the shocking part. What was shocking was how much he knew.

“Okay, so he’s a narc who hangs out with a druggie and now he’s a stalker,” Enjin said at one point, throwing his hands up after you casually mention something Zodyl knew about him that felt way too specific. “How the hell does he know about my lucky umbrella?”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. “First of all, he’s not a druggie and his name is Jabber—”

“The fuck kind of name is Jabber? That’s not helping his case.”

“—Second of all,” you continue over him, “you carry that umbrella everywhere. Even when it’s sunny. Zodyl is just observant.”

“Why am I being observed?” Enjin demands. “And how does he know it’s lucky!”

He didn’t like Zodyl. Not at all. And technically, he didn’t even know him. Even if Zodyl somehow knew too much about him.

One time, Enjin spotted him in passing on the way to class. Decided to be mature about it for you. If this guy was going to be in your life, the least he could do was be polite.

He waved. Gave him his best smile, pearly white canines flashing in greeting. “Hey, man!”

Zodyl didn’t even look at him.

But Enjin had always been your number one complication when it came to men. Either he scared them off—because being best friends with a hot, confident guy is intimidating (see: your last boyfriend)—or he attracted the wrong ones. The kind who only got close to you because they wanted proximity to him.

Zodyl was neither. He didn’t seem repelled by Enjin, and he didn’t seem particularly interested in knowing him personally either. No weird fan behavior. Outside of, okay, maybe some mildly stalker-ish observational habits.

It was a nice change of pace—having someone who seems interested in you and not because of who you’re friends with. Even if Zodyl was kind of weird, and you could never fully get a read on what was going on in his head.

Enjin stayed cordial. For the most part. He’d toss in a comment here and there when you brought Zodyl up—nothing too serious, just enough to let you know he had opinions—but he never outright fought you on it. Unless it was something justified, like ditching movie night. That was so different.

Even with all his side-eyes and sarcastic remarks, he knows you’re an adult. He knows you’re not naïve. If anything, he knows you too well to think you’d let yourself get played without noticing.

That doesn’t mean he stops thinking about it.

Or worrying about it.

~

Follo squints at you, Semiu, and Tomme as you push your way into the kitchen. “What are you three supposed to be?”

It’s Halloween, aka the biggest party of the semester. The house is so packed you can barely see the floor, just a blur of shoes and spilled drinks and strobe lights.

“We’re kiss, marry, kill,” Semiu says, lifting the plastic knife she’s been carrying around all night.

“That’s basic.”

Her eyes narrow at him. “And what are you?”

Follo taps the crooked paper plumbob taped to a headband on his head. “I’m a Sim.”

You laugh. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

Semiu turns to Gris, who’s leaning against the counter with fake blood smeared across his shirt. “And you’re… bloody Adam Sandler?”

“I didn’t have time to get a costume, and the blood is from Corvus fighting for his life with Party City vampire gel. At least I’m not dressed as a prisoner.” Gris nods toward Enjin, who’s standing there in an orange jumpsuit. He just smirks. “It was either Ghostface or this, and I wanted to get handcuffed.”

Semiu clicks her tongue. “Of course you do.”

Tomme glances over her shoulder. “Tamsy’s somewhere in the living room as an angel.” You’re still laughing at everyone, all the shots in your system from the pre-game making things way funnier than they are. “So we’re all just Pinterest stereotypes tonight, let’s call it even.”

You make your way over to Enjin’s side—like you always do—and hold your hand out for his drink. He passes it without question. Your first instinct is to chug, then just as quickly you gag. “Ew, what the hell is in this?”

“A lot,” he takes the cup back. “We all brought different alcohol and just mixed it together. August added grenadine though, so it’s pretty much a cocktail.”

“That’s not a cocktail. I feel like I just drank water straight from Chernobyl.”

He laughs and throws his arm around you, pulling you into his side. In a house this packed, being next to him is the best place. He’s your designated safe spot.

“Are you supposed to be ‘kiss’?” he asks, poking one of the lipstick marks Semiu left on your cheek.

“Well I’m not wearing a veil or holding a knife, am I?” 

“Do I get one?” Enjin puckers his lips dramatically, and you slap your hand over his mouth. “Go find someone to put you in handcuffs so I don’t have to deal with you.”

“I tried, there are no cop girls here. Very disappointing.”

“Should’ve gone with Ghostface. You would’ve gotten laid faster.”

Gris leans over Enjin’s shoulder, eyeing you. “So. Where’s your boyfriend?” Heat flushes your face. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Enjin feels something hot twist in his chest. He couldn’t even get thirty minutes of standing next to you without that thing getting brought up. “He doesn’t seem like the party type anyway,” Enjin’s jaw clenches, voice tight.

“Yeah, but I asked if he wanted to come anyway. He wasn’t interested.”

Thank fucking God, he thinks.

And then, like clockwork, your phone lights up.

Every ounce of relief he had evaporates the second he sees the name on your screen.

“He can’t get enough of you, huh?” Follo throws in.

Enjin is actually going to punch someone.

You look down at your phone, and your lips curve softly. Your face lights up in a way that makes something in him snap. Before he even thinks about it, he snatches the phone out of your hand and lifts it above your head.

“Enjin!” you shout, jumping for it. “Give it back!”

“Get off your phone,” he holds it higher as you try to climb him. “Live in the moment.” The messages are still open. He sees the photos you sent earlier—your costume and a selfie of your trio.

zodyl !!

You look pretty.

Have fun tonight.

His grip tightens around your phone. For a split second he considers smashing it. Instead, he locks the screen and shoves it into his pocket. “No more phone tonight.”

“Whatever,” you shrug him off, visibly annoyed. “What is your problem?”

He doesn’t answer.

“C’mon,” you grab Semiu and Tomme’s hands. “I wanna dance.”

You drag them away to the group of people that are dancing in the living room, but never leaving Enjin’s line of sight. He never let you at parties.

Listen, you haven’t had a boyfriend since high school. You’ve never really shown much interest in dating either. So the idea of you actually having something with this guy?

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Leaning back and watching you dance, Enjin decides to actually look at you. Like, really look at you. Figure out what it is that’s suddenly pulling Zodyl’s attention your way.

He starts with your face. Glitter highlight catching the lights, eyeshadow sparkling every time you turn your head. That loose, drunk smile painted in lipstick that matches the kiss prints on your cheeks and collarbones. Your hair falling in messy pieces around your face, swaying as you move.

Then lower.

The lace bra strap peeking out from under your little red dress, the fabric hugging you just right to leave very little to the imagination. His eyes trace the dip of your back. Your eyes. Your hair. Your neck. Your lips.

Your tits and ass.

You.

Oh.

Oh shit.

When did you get this hot?

He suddenly becomes hyper-aware of how you stand out from everyone else in the room.

You’re the most attractive girl at this party. And not in a “she’s my best friend so I’m obligated to think that” kind of way. 

It’s a “I’ve suddenly opened my eyes and realized my best friend would be more than capable of getting my dick hard” kind of way.

He’s never thought you were ugly, of course he’s always known you’re pretty.

It’s just—back in high school, you were so dorky. In his head, that’s kind of where you stayed. His silly best bud. 

When you’ve known someone that long, they sort of freeze in your mind. You stop updating the image. So he’s always seen you as that teenage girl he met freshman year.

He realizes you’re not that girl anymore. You’re grown. You’ve been grown.

Fuck, when did that happen?

Had you always gotten this kind of attention looking like this, and he just never clocked it? How did he, of all slutty men, miss your glaring sex appeal?

Is that why all of his past lovers got so angered by you? Because you—who’s objectively funny, smart, and clearly very attractive—were his girl best friend?

He always brushed it off as jealousy over the attention. And yeah, sure, he gave you a lot of it. Now he’s starting to think that wasn’t it. They weren’t just annoyed, they were threatened. Just as bad as the guys who saw him with you.

You were competition.

And if he were in their shoes? He’d feel insecure standing next to you too.

Now, knowing there are guys looking at you like that, something fires up under his skin. It doesn’t feel protective anymore, not like it usually does.

It feels territorial.

You’re his girl. You’ve always been his girl—and now there are other men looking at you?

Absolutely not.

That doesn’t work for him. That’s never been how this goes.

~

It becomes Enjin’s number one mission to steer Zodyl away from you. Or better yet, steal you back. Not that you’d actually been taken from him, but his ego took a hit that night, and something in him shifted. There’s this new awareness when he looks at you—and he doesn’t know what to do with it except act.

Operation: Kill The Roach.

After the party, he’s insufferable. Groaning every time your phone lights up. Rolling his eyes when you answer a call. Going dead silent the second Zodyl’s name gets mentioned. Any hint of him in your sentence and Enjin’s already bitching.

“I dunno babe, I just get bad vibes. Like, he ate birds as a kid or somethin’…”

“Birds?!”

You’re over it. Completely.

What used to be light teasing turns into actual arguments. Every time you say you’re going to hang out with Zodyl, it’s a fight. Every. Single. Time. He argues like it’s his job. You can see the jealousy plain as day—it’s written all over him—but what you don’t understand is why it showed up out of nowhere. He was fine before!

You try reassuring him. Tell him he’ll always be your best friend. Which, apparently, is the worst possible thing you could say. Nothing lands right anymore. You don’t even know what he wants from you at this point.

You and Enjin argue sometimes. That’s normal. But it’s never been like this between the two of you. 

After one particularly nasty fight, you’re sitting on his bed, laptop open, trying to focus on a paper. He’s right beside you, silent. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him—the tension is suffocating.

You’re too tired to deal with it anymore.

“Hey.”

You don’t even look at him. “Don’t start again.”

“Do you think I’m hot?”

That makes you turn. “Come again?”

He’s staring at you like he’s dead serious. “I asked if you think I’m hot. Sexy. Attractive. Whatever.”

“I mean, yeah. Who doesn’t?” You squint at him. “Isn’t that what gets you pussy?” Snorting a little. “Definitely not your personality.”

“Okay…” His jaw tightens. “Do you think I’m hotter than Zodyl?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Pretty straightforward question, ma.”

“It’s not though?” He was being insane.

“Who’s more attractive? Me or him?”

“Dude, where is all of this coming from?”

“I’m not dude.”

“Okay, Enjin. Get your panties out of a twist.” You roll your eyes and scoff at his attitude, turning back to your laptop.

He shuts it mid-citation.

You barely have time to react before he moves in, bracing his arms on either side of you and popping your personal space bubble. You fall back slightly onto the pillow behind you, catching yourself on your elbows.

“Stop avoiding the question.” His eyes are locked on yours, and this doesn’t feel like your usual play-fighting.

“I—”

“Swear to God, if you dodge it again.”

“I don’t know!” You’re flustered now, fully. He’s not backing off. You swallow. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it?”

“Then think about it.”

You hesitate.

Sure, Zodyl is attractive. In his weird, bug-adjacent way. Handsome. Broody. That whole mysterious thing that works on people if you ignore the super off-putting energy.

But Enjin is… Enjin.

He has a reputation for a reason—anyone with functioning eyesight would say he’s sexy. You’ve also seen the parts no one else gets to. The real personality under the persona. You watched him grow into the man he is today.

And he’s one hell of a man.

“Um… you?” It comes out sounding like a question.

He’s way too close. “Why’d you say it like that? You lyin’ to me?”

“No.” You push at his forehead with one finger, trying to create space. “I just had to think about it.”

“Do you need to be convinced?”

A squeak slips out, “Convinced…?”

Your face is burning. He doesn’t even fully know what he meant by that, but you’re flushed and breathing shallow and looking at him like that, and his mouth is running ahead of his brain.

One of his hands lands on the headboard behind you—leaning in to where you can feel his breath on your cheek. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I can convince you.”

You don’t know what to do with your hands, folding your arms awkwardly across your chest. “Jin’… be honest, are you jealous?”

He jerks back like you slapped him. “Jealous?” The idea is preposterous. What he’s feeling is far deeper than that. “No. I’m not jealous.”

You give a small, unimpressed laugh. “It’s been kind of sounding like it.”

He sits back with a huff, and you’re still half-reclined, heart racing, trying to process whatever the fuck just happened.

“Awh, c’mon.  You’ll always be number one in my heart.” There you go, trying to reassure him again. You’re teasing, but the way you phrase it makes something twist in his chest.

Number one. Like there’s a ranking. Like there could be a number two. A number three. Like you could still choose someone else, and he’d just—

No. It doesn’t matter if he’s first or hundredth. There’s no room in your heart for any other man. 

He doesn’t even know what he wants out of that. A relationship with you?

A relationship?

With you?

The two of you already have one. Just not the romantic kind—and the ideas never really crossed his mind before.

But now that it has, it won’t leave.

And the more he sits there, the more one thing becomes very clear to him. He wants—no, needs you to be his.

Enjin only ramps it up from there.

He’s working overtime with you now. Picking you up from every single class, whether you ask him to or not. And when you walk out of the one you share with Zodyl, he makes a whole production out of it—grabbing your arm, tugging you into his chest, telling you how much he missed you. Even if he literally saw you twelve hours ago.

Zodyl doesn’t react. No expression. Just a quiet “goodbye,” and he walks off.

Then texts you anyway.

So Enjin starts getting more physical. Not that physical affection was ever weird between you two—it’s always been a thing—but this is different. It’s doubled and bolder. A hand sliding onto your thigh with a squeeze while he drives. Pulling you tighter against him during movie night and pressing kisses to the top of your head. Fingers threading through your hair while you’re trying to focus on homework.

At parties, where he used to just rest a steady hand on your lower back to keep you grounded and near him, is now both hands planted on your hips. Your back flush against his chest, chin resting on your shoulder.

He even starts stripping down when he knows you’re coming over. Shirt gone. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Hair loose instead of slicked back—the way he knows you like it. He corners you in the kitchen once while you’re cooking, pressing in close under the excuse of “just grabbing a cup.” Tattooed biceps right by your head as he reaches above you. 

Once, knowing you were coming over, he walked out into the living room straight from the shower—still dripping. Water tracked down his chest, droplets falling from the ends of his hair. 

He stretched slowly, arms lifting over his head so his muscles flexed and shifted on purpose, towel falling enough to make you nervous he was about to flash you. Then he looked at you like he’d just noticed you were there. “Hey, pretty girl,” cue a very fake yawn, “when’d you get here?”

It’s way more intimate than it’s ever been. Friendly affection got left behind a mile ago.

He’s pulling out every trick he has. And Enjin has magic. He knows exactly how to use his charm, his presence. He’s slutting himself out more than ever before, and he’s laying it on thick.

Maybe too thick. More than he needed to.

Because there’s one thing he doesn’t know.

You used to have feelings for him.

You were still frustrated with him. Still violently annoyed. He was overbearing, dramatic, and utterly impossible lately.

But after that night—after he had you pinned between pillows and freedom, barely any space between you—you couldn’t ignore the feelings that slowly started to resurface.

The energy between you felt different. The way he looked at you wasn’t the same anymore. The way he touched you for sure wasn’t.

You started feeling like that same teenage girl who had the fattest crush on her best friend. The one who read too much into every lingering touch and every half-smile. He was getting you all hot n’ bothered—it was embarrassing. You thought you’d grown out of that.

You’re adults now. You don’t get to have dramatic, delusional fantasies about your best friend suddenly realizing he wants you. That’s middle school shit.

Even if, lately, he’s been acting like he’s fighting for his own damn life every time you’re around.

~

“I wanna go bowling,” Follo announces, taking a drag from the blunt as he lays practically horizontal across the back of the couch. Enjin and Gris have shoved him off at least three times already just to mess with him, but he keeps climbing back up like it’s his assigned seat.

Everyone’s at Enjin’s place for the night. There’s a movie playing in the background that no one’s actually watching, drinks scattered across the coffee table, his favorite cracked ashtray sitting in the middle as a decorative piece.

Follo pushes himself upright—immediately losing balance and sliding off the couch again. “Ow,” he grunts. “Who wants to go bowling?”

“Right now?” Gris looks at him like he’s insane.

“Yeah. Right now.”

“We are not going bowling right now,” Enjin snatches the blunt from his hand. “Maybe this weekend.”

“Can’t this weekend!” August calls out from the floor. “I have a project due!” You sink back further into the armchair. “I can’t either.”

Follo groans dramatically. “You of all people should be able to go. Please?”

“I already have plans. I’m sorry though.” You give him a sympathetic look and he whines at it. Tomme shifts on the floor, propping her chin on your leg as she looks up at you. “What’s got you busy?”

You hesitate for half a second. “Uh… I have a date.”

That gets everyone’s attention.

Gris lets out a low whistle, and Semiu nods approvingly. “You go girl. Your years of celibacy are finally over.” You flip her off playfully. “Shut the fuck up, it’s not like that.”

“Fine,” Follo sighs, still pouting. “You’re excused from bowling, I guess. Congrats that he finally grew a pair.”

“Thank you for approving my time off, Follo.”

Enjin goes completely still where he’s standing. Lips pressed into a thin line. Teeth grinding so hard it looks painful.

“You look mad,” Follo’s still beneath him on the floor. “Be happy for her!”

Enjin shoots him a look that could kill. “You’re too high,” he mutters, planting his foot against Follo’s chest and nudging him back. “Green out. Right now.”

Follo starts dramatically thrashing like Enjin’s actually crushing him, even though he’s barely applying pressure.

He can’t even look at you. He knows if he does, he’s going to say or do something he can’t take back. And he has no idea what that something would even be.

But you’re looking at him.

And Follo’s right. Why can’t he just be happy for you? He’s your best friend. He’s always been your loudest supporter, and your biggest cheerleader. Every win, every milestone, every dumb little achievement—you’ve never had to question whether he’d show up for you.

So why is this so different?

You can’t deny that when Zodyl first asked you out, your instinct was to hesitate. With the way Enjin’s been acting lately, and old feelings creeping back in at the worst possible time—not to mention the possibility that actually dating someone could put space between you and him—you were torn.

Enjin doesn’t look at you for the rest of the night.

He stays mostly silent, tossing in a response here and there so he doesn’t completely kill the vibe. But he won’t meet your eyes. Won’t laugh at your jokes. Won’t even brush past you the way he usually does.

Even after everyone leaves and you stay behind to help him clean up—like you do—he acts like you’re not there.

When you’re done, you grab your things and head toward the door. “I’m leaving!” you call out. Your hand is already on the handle when you hear footsteps, quick and uneven.

“Wait.”

He can’t let you walk out like this. You turn. “Yeah?”

Enjin closes the distance in two strides and pins you against the door. One hand on either side of your face, holding you there. 

“Are you…” he starts, then stops, thoughts racing faster than he can control. “Are you going to go on that date?”

He’s so close that you can feel his breath. It pulls you straight back to every moment lately where he’s been inches away, touching you like he does. Your heart is pounding so hard you think he can hear it.

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because I don’t want you to.”

You should be furious. You should call him controlling. Tell him to get over himself. But instead, you’re just hurt. “Why can’t you be happy for me?”

The question hits him harder than anything else tonight. It loops in his head until only one answer presents itself.

“There’s only room for me.”

“I’ve already told you—”

“No.” His voice is stern. “There’s only room for me.”

“Listen to me,” you plead. “You'll always be my best friend, and that’s never going to change. It’s okay for me to try out a relationship. I won’t leave you behind. I promise.” Your hand lifts to give him a pinky promise, and he pushes it away. “Then try it out with me.”

You freeze. “What?”

“A relationship. Have one with me.”

“Jin’, hey. Like I said, you’re my best friend—”

Those words land wrong just like the others.

Enjin steps back, retreating. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, ma’. I overstepped.” As much as he hates to do it, he’ll throw in the towel if you weren’t willing. “Be safe getting home, okay? Have fun this weekend.”

“Stop.”

“It’s late, and I know you like your Saturdays quiet and—”

“Enjin.” Your voice snaps, sharp. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What are you saying to me? What have you been saying to me?” You step toward him. Every step feels loud. “Do you like me?” You’re right in front of him now, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down so he has to look at you again. He lets out a half-laugh, half-breath. “Understatement.”

“Since when?”

“I’ve always liked you, baby.”

“When?”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Think it started when you came in talking about that bug—” You tighten your grip. “Sorry. Zodyl. When you told me he was texting you n’ shit.”

“And then it was thing after thing, and I realized you’re my girl. Nobody else’s. You’re my girl in every way, whether you feel the same or not.”

“I don’t—” Your voice wavers. “I don’t understand.”

He sighs, disgruntled. “Well I’ve been trying to show you—”

“Then show me now.” The words make Enjin's heart stop. “I’ll be receptive. Help me understand.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do,” you push. “Help me understand what you’re feeling.” The way he hesitates makes you frustrated. “Please?”

He surges forward and bites down on your neck—hard. Aggressive enough that you know it’s going to leave a mark. He pulls back just enough to drag his tongue over the indents of his teeth, like he’s making sure it sets.

Your hands fly from his collar to his shoulders with a sharp gasp. It hurts—really fucking bad—but the way he’s kissing over it now makes your stomach twist and heat pool. 

“My girl,” he mutters against your skin, words rough between messy kisses and lingering nips. “All mine.” His hand slides up your waist to your collar, tugging it aside so he can press another bite into your shoulder.

“Ngh—Jin’, wait—” you whimper as he does it again.

“Showing you,” he’s completely lost in it. In you. In the act of marking you up. “Showing them.” His hands are gripping you like he thinks you’re about to disappear. Like if he loosens his hold for even a second, you’ll slip through his fingers.

When he finally pulls back, his pupils are blown wide, chest rising and falling too fast. He looks utterly wrecked. “I’ll do anything for you, ma’,” he breathes, voice rough, almost breaking. “So quit lookin’ at other guys and just belong to me. Shit—do I gotta get on my knees and beg?”

This is Enjin. The cocky, arrogant, campus-famous flirt whose ego usually fills the room before he does. And right now he’s undone.

For you.

You rub his shoulders, trying to soothe him, thumb brushing over his cheek, under his eye. “You’re so stupid, you know that?”

He frowns slightly.

“Stupid and blind.” A laugh escapes you as you recall how obvious you were about your feelings when you were younger. “I had the biggest crush on you in high school, I was so down bad.”

“Was?” he hones in on the word.

“Well, yeah,” you tap his cheek. “I had to get over myself if I wanted to stay your friend. And I did. I learned to be okay with that because I knew the chances of you feeling the same were slim to none. I figured I wasn’t your type.”

“My… my type?”

Thinking back now—late nights next to someone else, wondering if you got home safe, if you’d eaten, if you were laughing somewhere without him—he realizes you’ve always been the woman that mattered the most to him. Checking all of his boxes.

“You always teased me. Called me a dork or weird like I was just your annoying little sidekick—” His fingers hook into your belt loops and he yanks you forward before you can finish, lips crashing against yours.

It’s desperate, rough and messy. Nothing like the soft, perfect first kiss with him you imagined when you were sixteen. 

Your hands paw at his chest as he kisses you like it’s life or death, like this is the only way he knows how to prove himself worthy for you. With those fresh bite marks burning against your skin, a declaration of his claim on you, you’re living out your childish wet dream of your best friend.

With Enjin.

He pushes you backward and you stumble, falling onto the couch with a breathless laugh that dies the second he follows.

Enjin doesn’t hesitate. He’s on you immediately, bracketing you in, one hand planted by your head while the other grips your waist. He wedges his leg between yours to keep you right where he wants you. “Should’ve realized sooner,” frustration and want tangled together in him. “Could’ve saved us so much time.”

He rolls his hips down just enough to make you gasp, a soft sound slipping out before you can stop it.

“Fuck,” he growls into your mouth. “You’re so hot.”

The compliment goes straight between your legs. The idea of Enjin looking at you like this—wanting you like this—used to feel delusional, so far fetched. And now you’re pinned beneath him while he kisses you stupid.

This is different from anything you’ve ever had. Your kisses with your ex-boyfriend don’t even compare. Those were childish polite pecks. 

The way he makes out with you is art. He nips at your bottom lip, drags his tongue along the seam of your mouth until you part for him. His hands slide under your shirt, palms warm against bare skin, fingers splaying like he’s mapping you out because he never got to before.

He’s going to make up for lost time.

Enjin knows you’ve never done anything like this before. Semiu wasn’t joking about your years of celibacy, and the fact that he’s the one you’re here with right now does something reckless to his ego. 

He wants to be the one you remember, the one your body responds to without thinking. The one who teaches you what this is supposed to feel like. He wants it burned into you so deep that no one else even registers—in a way where when you close your eyes, it’s him. When you think about being touched, it’s him. When you imagine wanting someone, it’s him.

He’s not just trying to win—he’s trying to make sure there’s no competition ever again.

A hand slides up your stomach to the underwire of your bra, teasing the edge and making you shiver. His thumb brushes over your nipple, leaving you gasping for air—a silent plea for more. All while his other hand finds the waistband of your pants, tugging impatiently as he kneads your breast. Every touch of his ignites your skin.

Enjin pulls back just enough to look at you, hand still hooked at your waistband, thumb brushing the skin there while his lips trail back down to your neck—slower this time, less frantic.

“Is this okay?” He’s bracing himself for rejection. “If you don’t want this, I’ll stop. We can pretend it never happened.”

“You can go on your date,” he adds, voice rough but steadier than before. “And I’ll stay in my place.”

As much as Enjin doesn’t want you to deny him, he meant it when he said he’ll do anything you ask of him—even though the erection in his pants hurts so bad right now.

“No,” fingers fisting into his hair as you try to pull his lips back onto yours, you thrust your hips up to meet his—desperate for any friction to satiate the pooling between your thighs. “I don’t wanna stop, don’t wanna go—”

In one smooth motion, he’s lifting you up and carrying you straight toward his bedroom. The door barely makes it open before he’s tossing you onto the bed—hands everywhere, guiding you, pressing you down.

He goes for your shirt first, tugging it up and over your head with impatient hands, barely giving you time to catch your breath before he’s working at your pants too.

Enjin sits back to look at you, nearly bare in nothing but your undergarments. Your chest is rising and falling, cheeks pink with swollen, glossy lips—his eyes trace your form, staring at the marks on your neck and shoulder. The expanse of your skin to leave more.

He feels his dick twitch and drool. 

Shrugging his shirt off and tossing it aside, the tattoo along his stomach makes his abs stand out every time he moves. That mixed with the view of an imprint of his ever so hard cock beneath his sweats? You’re salivating.

Enjin catches you looking and grins. “Like what you see?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Is that even a question?” He laughs under his breath. “Fuck yeah I do.”

He leans down, mouth trailing lower, lower, lower—kissing along your stomach, over your hip, until he’s hovering right where you need him the most. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing a slow kiss to the inside of your thigh.

It’s soft, almost sweet. And then he bites again.

You jolt, and he looks up at you with that dangerous half-smirk as a faint red mark begins to bloom. “And this,” he traces his finger in a circle around the mark, “is for only me to see.”

His breath ghosts over your soaked panties, hot and teasing. Your hand presses against his forehead to stop him, and he groans at your touch. “Wait,” your hips twitching up despite yourself. “You don’t have to… I know some guys don’t like—”  

Enjin makes a show of pulling the lace down with his teeth. He flicks his tongue along your slit just once, slow enough for you to feel every damn nerve ending scream for more before pulling back with a shit eating grin. “Nah, that ain’t me, mama.”

The second those words leave his mouth has you clenching around nothing.

His tongue drags a filthy stripe from your entrance to your clit, and the second he tastes how wet and sweet you are has him grinding into the bed. “Fuck," he rasps, “look at that. All for me?” His thumb replaces his mouth just long enough to circle slow, maddening patterns while his other hand pins your hips down. 

You choke on air when he finally sucks hard on that swollen bud—the vibration of his groan shooting straight through you as one finger sinks inside without warning. “Mine,” Enjin repeats like a prayer between licks, teeth grazing where it makes stars explode behind your closed eyelids.

Your fingers fly to weave through his golden strands of hair—letting out a louder moan than you intended to—before slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds. 

No, he can’t have that.

With his free hand, he pulls yours away to lace your fingers together. “Awh, don’t do that. Let me hear you.”

Rough tongue sending sparks coursing through you, he slips in another finger—curving them just right to hit that spot inside of you and drive you mad. His fingers tighten around yours, holding your hand like a lifeline—and you can see him shaking, straining as he fights the need to just get closer to you. 

You’re practically crying from just his mouth and fingers alone—you can’t imagine what it’ll feel like to have him inside of you. “Agh—fuck! Oh, Enjin—”

“That's it,” he’s purring against your clit, “keep sayin’ my name just like that.”

It’s too much—too good. When you unconsciously try to wiggle away from his hold, Enjin tsk’s—grabbing your thigh by his head and pulling you back, pushing your hips down again to keep you in place. “Where are you runnin’ off to?” His eyes are locked on you. “You're stayin’ right here, princess.”

“Please, please—Jin’, please—” You haven’t got the slightest clue what you’re begging for, but you just know you need more. 

The obscene sound of you soaking his fingers punches an embarrassing moan from Enjin’s throat. Your back arches off the bed because of it—lips parted around his name—while he watches with pupils blown black.

Enjin’s hips continue to jerk mindlessly, and he swears he’s going to bust his load in his pants from just the taste and sight of you. 

“Ngh—Enjin, I think I’m—” Attempting to warn him of your increasing climax, you’re cut off by him pulling away, coming up to kiss you. It’s softer this time—at least compared to his rough, desperate lips earlier. “Not yet.”

Taking off his pants, he finally releases his cock from its hold. You can’t help but gape at it—tip red and angry, drops of precum leaking down. It’s unfairly pretty.

And it’s big.

He reads the slightly fearful look on your face, rubbing soft circles into your hips. “Hey, we’ll take it slow, okay?” Every touch is a silent promise to you—this is Enjin, you’re safe. He’ll always take care of you.

Lining himself up at your entrance, he looks at you for confirmation. This okay?

You swallow, nodding. He smiles, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek as he pushes just the tip in.

“Shit—” You wince in pain with a sharp inhale. Enjin’s lips brush over your temple as he pushes in inch by inch. “Relax, baby. Just breathe, I’ve got you.”

Bottoming out has him moaning, head dropping to the crook of your neck. “You feel so good.”

Every muscle in his body contracts, trying not to move—this is your call, and he’ll wait however long he needs to. Eventually, the pain subsides into a dull ache—but underneath it is something better. When you feel his dick twitch inside of you, it makes your breath hitch.

You tap his shoulder.

“You can move.”

Enjin pulls back ever so slightly, before rocking back into you. “You're shaking,” He nuzzles the curve of your shoulder, inhaling the scent of sweat and your perfume. “You okay?”

The feeling of that first thrust catches you off guard, and you gasp—running your hands down the ink on his chest. “Perfect.” You nod profusely. “Please don’t stop.”

Slowly but surely, his hips start rolling in more shallow movements as he watches your face twist with newfound pleasure. You’re clenching around him so hard it’s taking everything in him to last, which was no easy feat right now. “You’re so tight—”

“You sound like that’s a bad thing…”

That makes him laugh, even though half-way through it he chokes on a groan when you tighten up on him again. “No, baby. Far from a bad thing.”

“You’re so wet,” a kiss, “and grippin’ me like this,” a thrust. “Fuck, ma’—it’s makin’ me lose my damn mind.” He picks up speed, and it feels so good that you are crying now. Big, fat tears beading at your lashes and running down your face. 

“Shh, don’t cry baby,” Enjin cooes, catching the drops of salty tears with his tongue—lapping them up as they fall. Your nails claw down his back—so hard he thinks he may be bleeding—but that only turns him on more. 

It’s kind of wild—seeing you laying beneath him, eyes glazed over and glossy with tears, moaning his name and crying, all fucked out on his dick. Never in a million years would he have thought he’d be balls deep inside of you—but now he’s cursing himself for not doing this so much sooner.

His cock is hitting nerves that your fingers or toys could never reach, and your back arches into him every time it kisses your cervix. You also couldn’t believe you were having sex with Enjin—silently thanking whatever higher power is up there for finally granting your wish.

“You’re so beautiful.” His hips roll in mind blowing circles. “And you’re so smart, funny, and kind.” Every praise is accompanied with a thrust that knocks sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of from your lips. 

“You’re all mine, right?” You babble, nod, whatever. But that’s not what he wants. He takes one hand and grabs your jaw, the other reaching down to circle your clit. The added stimulation along with him hitting all of the right spots in your gummy walls makes your vision blur. “Ngh—yes! Right there—feels so good…” 

“Wrong answer, try again.” His thrusts are brutal now, all softness out the window. “Let me hear you say it.” He grips your jaw harder, forcing you to look him in the eye, “I know you can. C’monnn—just use your words, princess.”

“Yours!” You cry out, “M’ yours—all yours, oh!” One particular snap of his hips has you practically screaming—you make a mental note to write an apology letter to his neighbors. “Only wanna be yours, Enjin—”

“Always have been—” You take his face in your hands, “Never loved anyone else—” 

Your nails raking down the sweat-slick nape of his neck has him moaning and moving like a damn dog in heat, hips jerking like a live wire’s been shoved up his spine. “I never ever will!” 

Your voice is like cupid’s arrow right in his heart. No pussy’s ever had him this drunk on it before—losing all of his self control—but that was just the spell you had on him. Constantly pulling at his heart strings, and shit, he wished he'd always loved you this way.

Maybe he had. Maybe you were right that he was stupid—he never really was very good with feelings. He’ll never make a mistake like that again.

“That’s my good girl, always sayin’ exactly what I want to hear…” He’s trying so hard to hold on. “God—M’ sorry, mama—” Enjin’s hands lock around your thighs, hiking them up until they’re flush with your chest and he’s wearing them like a necklace. “Didn’t mean to make you wait this long.”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to get any deeper—but fuck, he was—the stretch burning so good, and you can practically feel him in your stomach. His thick cock bullies into your tight cunt with little to no mercy, forehead pressed against yours, and your walls flutter around him as the coil in your stomach tightens.

“You gonna cum for me?” He goes faster, harder—he could win an Olympic medal at this point. “Please, baby. Need you to—” The pace of his thumb circling around your clit speeds up, giving you about 30 seconds until you fall apart. “Need you to cum all around my cock—”

Your vision goes white as you snap, orgasm rushing over you in mind blowing waves. You fall forward, this time biting down on his neck—hard enough to bleed and bruise.

“Mine—mine, mine, mine—” If you’re going to be his, then he’s going to be yours. No more Mr. Playboy. You’re not about to let him claim you without claiming him right back. If he wants you locked down, then he’s locking the fuck down too.

“Fuck—yeah baby, just like that…” Enjin’s cumming harder than he thinks he ever has in his life—the feeling of your walls spasming and clenching as you experience your own release, your teeth sinking into his skin, the sound of your cries and chanting right by his ear—it leaves him fucking you rough and filthy through both of your highs. 

You think this must be what heaven feels like. If you died right now, you’d be at complete and utter peace with the life you’d lived. 

His hips slow, easing your legs gently back down around his sides. You’re utterly wrecked beneath him—flushed and panting, skin glowing with sweat, shimmering almost like the glitter you always dust across your collarbones at parties.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

The way your hair fans out on his sheets. The way your lips are swollen and bruised from kissing him. The way your eyes are looking at him right now. He wants to burn the picture of you into his brain forever. 

Enjin slowly pulls out and you mewl at the overstimulation, then at the loss of him inside of you. “Was that okay?” His eyes search your face like he’s looking for any sign he messed up.

“More than okay,” you reach up to trace the mark you left on him. It’s dark and gnarly. You wince. “Sorry about that… But was it okay for you, too?”

“Best sex I’ve ever had, baby.”

Enjin drops back onto the bed and pulls you into his chest where you belong. “And don’t apologize. I liked it, was hot as fuck. I feel branded now—might go get it tattooed.”

“You’re gonna get so much shit from the guys.”

“Do I look like I care?”

You run your fingers over the lines of his tattoos, tracing them absentmindedly while he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We should probably get you cleaned up.”

He’s right, your thighs are sticky from your combined juices now leaking out—but you whine and cling tighter to him. “Nooo. Not yet. In a bit.”

“You’re such a spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, my pain in the ass.”

His heartbeat thuds beneath your palm, his hand rubbing slow circles into your back like he’s trying to lull you to sleep. “Got a question for ya’.”

You lift your chin to look at him. “What’s up?”

“You still going on that date this weekend?”

You roll your eyes and pinch his cheeks lightly. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

He grins. “Second question.”

“God, what now?”

“Girlfriend?”

Your heart flutters—the best word that could’ve come out of his mouth. You smile softly and nod.

Countering him, “Boyfriend?”

“Obviously.”

You poke his chest. “Best friend?”

He never hesitates.

“Forever.”

he’s quite shameless about how he wants you and when he wants you, all while maintaining that suave attitude of his that manages to ignite a dangerous flame in the pit of your stomach.

“e-enjin, are you sure i look okay?” doubt clouds your conscience as you become hyperaware of the risqué outfit enjin hand picked for you.

the skimpy costume was detailed with complex thin straps of fabric, lace sewn into the seams and sheer material that allowed for no coverage. accompanied by a flimsy mini skirt that could’ve been mistaken for a handkerchief; your tits helplessly spills out of the bra while the pudge of your hips seeps through the edges of the thong.

it also didn’t help that enjin “accidentally” bought a size or two, too small. feigning ignorance when he first presented the attire to you, which earned him a raised eyebrow.

you can’t fathom where he found a shop on the ground that sold lingerie and clothing akin of that nature.

he slightly lowers the camera. “oh, sweetheart…” he drawls out. his voice is tainted with lust that scratches the surface of his throat.

you lift your gaze from the bedding to his face, slightly taken aback by the sight of enjin’s once amber irises illuminate a powerful gold hue. his focus is on your harden nipples poking through the intimate wear, rather than your face itself.

he groans. “you’re seriously asking me that? cmon, don’t ’cha you see what you do to me?”

your breath hitched when your eyes flicker at the prominent thick bulge confined by his grey sweatpants. a patch of precum has dampened a spot on the fabric all while you can see his cock slightly twitch beneath.

you could feel heat begin to quickly pool between your legs as slick starts to accumulate and suddenly the room has grown hotter than before.

he is so brazen when it comes to you. he’d rather indulge you within tiny pieces than to consume you whole. gluttony is a sinful desire which leeches onto greed once he’s had his first intake of you.

you squeeze your thighs together desperately seeking for needed friction. your dissolve slowly melts through the cracks and your body language mirrors that as you align your posture upright, feeling nerves lift from your shoulders.

enjin dryly chuckles once he notices your minuscule movements — of course he would — and firmly captures your chin with his thumb.

“easy there. you gotta put in the work for your reward. that’s how things work around here.. or have you forgotten?”

you bite the flesh inside your cheek and advert your gaze towards his earrings. bashfulness overwhelms you. being scolded like this wasn’t how you envisioned the evening would go.

you grimace. “no, i didn’t forget.”

he smirks, “then be a good girl and pose for me, yeah?”

enjin’s words flow like a tender melody despite the dubious context behind them. it lures your mind into an intoxicating trance that feins for more.

but for what exactly? all he has done so far is dress you up like a doll to record and snap suggestive photos of you. the unknowing gamble of enjin with his party tricks that tether the line of absurd mind games has always made you gravitate towards him. it’s truly apart of his charm.

he’s so charismatic to the point where it’s almost stupid.

and thus, you comply. giving him a real show by batting your pretty eyelashes just the way he likes it, arching your back to accentuate the curve of your ass and using your triceps to squish together your tightly confined tits all while enjin loudly hollers praises.

“fuck, yeah that’s what i’m talkin' about!”

“looking like a million bucks!”

“my princess looks so good. only you can get me this hard, see?”

it’s truly endearing and gets you even more wet but it does take some time to get used to.

“spread that pussy for me.”

you choke a bit and your body stiffens. what? you must’ve not heard him correctly but when you peer at him, he’s palming his clothed cock in his unoccupied hand as he beckons you to follow through. there’s a sinister look that overtakes his eyes as they glow even brighter than before.

he was being serious.

you hesitate before laying down on your back to widen your legs. you move the soaked thong to the side, clear sticky strings of slick follow along. enjin is immersed by the sight as he ogles with a dry mouth.

he lets out a guttural groan, “haven’t even done a thing yet and you’re completely soaked,” he mutters. he hunches over to farther inspect, making a V shape with his fingers to slowly spread open your sticky folds.

your swollen pussy clenches around nothing when he teasingly blows air against your clit.

you mewl in surprise. “you’re embarrassing me!”

he halfheartedly rolls his eyes, “i’m admiring you. there’s a difference, y’know.”

he straightens out his back, removing himself from your heat. “why don’t you show me how bad you want your reward…” his large hands splays on the plush of your inner thigh, keep it ajar. “..and make it convincing for the cameras too.”

your hips gently buck at the implications. you already knew what he wanted from you, and you’ll gladly give him more. it was a win-win situation, after all.

your hand soon trails down, landing on your swole clit, soft whimpers soon fill the room. “a-ahh! f-fuck..” you were so sensitive. your weeping cunt drooled onto the bedsheets, your arousal now being messily smeared as you inched a finger down your slit to gather the slick, dripping it onto your nub.

enjin couldn’t believe the theatrical performance you were putting on. his cock rhythmically pulsed and his grip tightened around his crotch. “careful now… don’t w-wanna cum too fast.” he chokes out, his words more so directly towards himself.

your face contorts in pleasure as you continue to rub tedious tight circles on your clit. “mmh..! you are getting my angles right, aren’t you?” you decide to finally tease back once you get a glimpse of enjin now fully pumping his cock, messily smearing his spilled precum over his angry red tip.

your sweet-toned words become mush in his ears as more shocks of pleasure overtake him. he’s too focused on not cumming onto your slicked folds, to letting up on the gimmick by putting the camera down and fucking you into an oblivion.

but a twisted part of him enjoys watching you be this vulnerable in the dark. where the outside world cannot reach you; seeing you in a different light where others would pay for even a glimpse of what is behind that hardheaded facade of yours.

“trying to be funny when you were just squealing like a mouse a second ago? ha..!— that’s cute.” he sneers through gritted teeth.

“how about we shoot one final scene,” his cock bobs suddenly from his released grip. the tip leaking harder than ever. “let’s make it worth our while.” he steadies the camera in one hand as his fingers align with your entrance he slips his middle and ring finger in with ease. a soft groan exists from both of you as your gummy walls clench delicately around his thick fingers.

“mmpph— oh fuck!” moans ripple from your mouth and you squirm, feeling him fill you up so divinely.

your eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the sudden protrusion dragging firmly on your walls. “that’s it… look how you’re taking me so well.” enjin mutters, lost in the way your cream drips down to his knuckles, coating him as he hastily pumps his fingers inside your hole.

he bites his lip, suppressing a moan of his own as he zooms the camera in to focus solely on your cunt. a small ring of cream form on his hand, “look at her go! creaming like she’s wants her reward so bad, isn’t that right, girl?”

you mentally want to wither away once enjin starts talking directly to your cunt, cooing at it like a mad man. “g-god enjin, just stop fucking talking for once!” you squeal, feeling yourself nearing your climax.

“i didn’t quite catch that—” he puts emphasis on his words as he slightly curls his fingers inside of you, effectively hitting the spongy part that makes you dizzy. “—mind saying that again?” he rasps out.

you yelp in response and thrash your head backwards. lewd squelching fills the room to the brim. “'m gonna cum…gonna cum—!” you begin grinding on his hand. enjin’s mouth twists into a half baked smirk watching you crumble apart.

his voice softens, “i got you. let go for me.” just as the words slip from his tongue, your body quickly spasms, hips stuttering, while your cunt squeezes him repeatedly as you came.

enjin watches you as you slowly come down, your chest deeply rises and drops as you try to catch your breath, eyes closed as you now try to really figure out where this camera idea even emerged from.

in truth, enjin can never get enough of you. even when you are a few feet away within the same room. you intoxicate him better than his average tobacco habits, filling up his lungs with a much healthier euphoric warmth.

which is why he just needed something to keep him going for a next few days you’ll be absent due to your upcoming trash raid mission, starting tomorrow…

he needs you so much. more than he ever lets on.