𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

And of fucking course his mind wanders further—

Would your mouth feel that good in reality?

Would it turn him on that much to have you on your knees between his legs?

Would your moans really sound that divine while doing your best to bring him towards pleasure?

Will—

“Earth to Katsukiii,” you suddenly speak, waving a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him jolt slightly, his body shifting backwards on the couch.

“What!?” His head snaps towards you instantly, his hand coming up to slap yours away, ignoring the warmth that lingers from the brief contact.

“I have been talking to you,” you frown, scooching closer to him, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’,” he shrugs, but his body tenses the moment your chest brushes against his arm.

“You’re even pissier than usual,” you remark with a raised brow, studying him carefully. He scoffs.

“You’re imagining things,” he replies way too fast.

You frown deeper, squinting your eyes as you shift even closer, intentionally closing the space between you. You don’t miss the way he immediately leans away.

“Why do you run from me?” you ask, tilting your head.

“I like my space, weirdo,” he mutters under his breath.

“I like your space too,” you tease, nudging your knee against his.

He instantly moves his knee away.

“Shut up and watch this damn movie,” he rolls his eyes, trying to focus anywhere but you.

“Kats.”

No answer.

“Katsuki,” you insist again, leaning in and poking his cheek with your finger.

You feel it — the tension.

You notice the way his hands curl, palms balling into fists as he takes a slow, deep breath, clearly trying to keep himself together.

“What’s up with you?” you push again, your voice softer this time, but more insistent. You move even closer, until he’s practically cornered at the end of the couch, your body fully pressing into his.

“Tell meee,” you drag out, nudging him lightly. “What’s bothering you?”

“You’re bothering me,” he finally snaps, his tone sharp and annoyed, making you blink in surprise. “Even in my fuckin’ dreams,” he adds with a frustrated groan, dragging a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was.

“What?” you ask, caught off guard. “You dreamt about me?”

“Are you deaf?” he rolls his eyes, letting out a short, dry chuckle.

Then—

Something shifts.

A slow, almost mischievous grin spreads across your lips.

“What kind of dream did you have?” you ask, lowering your voice slightly as you lean closer, your gaze locking onto his.

Before he can react, you move.

In one smooth motion, you swing your leg over him, then the other, settling yourself directly in his lap, your thighs resting on either side of his muscular legs.

His mouth parts slightly, frozen halfway open, one eye twitching as he stares up at you, completely caught off guard.

“Come on,” you push again, shifting slightly on his lap, your clothed core brushing against his crotch through his jeans.

“Did you have a wet dream?” you ask playfully, clearly teasing, not thinking anything of it — but the moment he flinches, looking away instead of snapping back at you, your smile falters just a bit.

“Did you really have a wet dream of me?” you ask again, this time more serious, your eyes searching his face.

“Piss off,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze.

“Oh my god… I want to know right now,” you nudge him again, more insistent this time.

“I ain’t telling you shit, now get off of me,” he says, though his hands find your hips, gripping them instinctively.

You place your hands over his, pressing them down, smirking slightly.

“You know… if you tell me what it was about… maybe I can help,” you shrug casually, as if you didn’t just drop that.

He stares at you, completely dumbfounded, like you just said the most insane thing he’s ever heard.

“You gotta be joking,” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Why would I be? It’s not like I don’t find you hot or anything,” you add, shifting slightly again in his lap.

That stirrs something in him.

He hisses under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening without him even realizing it.

“I’m still not telling you,” he mumbles, jaw clenching.

“Okay…” you hum. “I’ll guess.”

You take a moment to think, then—

“Was I on all fours? Were you fucking me from the back? I know you like doggy style… or maybe something else? Like missionary? Or cowgirl?” you ramble, mostly to yourself, watching his reactions closely. “How about—“

“It was a goddamn blowjob, now shut up,” he groans, his head falling back against the couch with a dull thud.

“Oh,” you pause, blinking. “A blowjob,” you repeat thoughtfully, tilting your head slightly.

“How was I able to fit all of that in my mouth?” you add, genuinely thinking about it.

He groans louder this time, hands leaving your hops and dragging them down his face.

“You are killing me, woman,” he mutters, voice strained, making you giggle softly.

“So you want it?” you ask, watching him closely.

He makes a pause, completely baffled.

Then—

“The hell? Who asks their best friend to suck them off?” he snaps, glaring at you.

“Who dreams of their best friend sucking them off?” you shoot back instantly, raising a brow.

“Smartass,” he scoffs.

“Pervert.”

“Oh, I’m the pervert? Not you, who’s been grinding on me for the past minutes?” he shoots back.

“I only suggested it because you seem stressed lately,” you say, your tone softer now, but still teasing. “And you clearly don’t wanna talk about feelings. Maybe I can help some… other way… you know?”

He goes quiet.

Really quiet.

His brows pull together as he stares at you, his expression shifting into something more serious, more conflicted — something you can’t quite read.

You’ve never seen that look on him before.

Not like this.

There’s hesitation.

Something heavy sits behind his eyes.

“You better not make me regret this,” he mutters finally, his voice lower now.

Your brows lift slightly, tilting your head. You didn’t know what to make of this words.

“Wha— what?”

His hands tighten on your hips, making you shift against his crotch for the nth time.

“Get on your knees.”

“Now?” You ask baffled.

“Yes, now. I’m in the mood and it’s your fault,” he reminds you.

You bite your lip to repress a smile.

Instead of a snarky comment, you just nod quietly and get off his lap. He spreads his legs wider the moment you move, watching you closely as you lower yourself onto your knees, settling between his muscular thighs.

Your palms come up to touch them, fingers gripping the material of his jeans as you slowly move them up and down, feeling the tension in his body, trying to ease it just a little.

You take your time.

Slowly moving upward, dragging it out, making it feel like it takes forever to reach his crotch… then his belt.

You start unbuckling it, your movements slow, all while looking up at him — watching the way he stares down at you, jaw tight, lips pressed together, hands resting stiffly at his sides.

You slide the belt out of the way, then undo his zipper, finally revealing his black boxers. Something hard brushes against your hand and he hisses above you, his breath catching.

Your fingers dip under the material and drag it down, exposing his happy trail that leads down to his cock. His own hands come down to help, pushing his jeans and boxers lower, lifting his hips just enough. The fabric bunches at his thighs, out of the way.

And then—

His cock springs free.

Long. Thick. Prominent veins running along the length of it. The tip flushed a reddish color, already leaking with pre-cum.

“C’mon, dig in,” he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips as his hand comes to tangle in your hair, pushing you slightly forward.

You don’t rush.

You lean in slowly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling the way he reacts instantly — his breath hitching, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips as you glance up at him through your lashes.

Your tongue slides out, dragging along his length, long, intentional strokes, collecting the pre-cum as you go. His fingers tighten in your hair.

“Don’t— be such a tease, damn it,” he grits out, voice rougher now, the veins in his neck more visible as he looks down at you.

You let out a quiet chuckle, but you give in.

Enough teasing.

You part your lips and guide him in, taking him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, relaxing your jaw as you go, until the tip presses against the back of your throat.

You pause there for a second, breathing steadily through your nose, adjusting — letting your body relax around him.

Then you start moving.

Slow at first.

Pulling back just enough before taking him in again, setting a rhythm, your tongue flattening along the underside, tracing the veins, working with each movement.

Spit and pre-cum mix together, making everything smoother, your lips sealing tightly around him.

All the while, your eyes stay on him.

Watching everything.

The way his teeth catch his lower lip. The flare of his nostrils. The crease forming between his brows as he tries to hold himself together. Low grunts slip past his lips, restrained, controlled — but you can tell he’s holding back.

That only makes you pick up the pace.

Your head starts bobbing more steadily, your movements more confident, more precise. Tears sting lightly at your eyes from the burn of your throat, but you don’t stop — you just adjust your breathing, keeping the rhythm consistent.

You want to hear him.

Really hear him.

“You happy now?” he asks, breath uneven, voice rough. “Having a mouth full of me?”

You let out a muffled moan around him in response, the vibration traveling through him as your tongue moves again, your pace never faltering.

“You greedy brat,” he chuckles, though his voice strains. He knows you — you like this, like putting on a show, like pulling reactions out of him.

His hips twitch upward when you increase your speed, your nails digging slightly into his thighs to steady yourself as his fingers tighten in your hair.

Sweat starts to bead at his forehead, sliding down as strands of blond hair stick to his skin.

“Mhm— keep— keep going,” he finally groans, his control slipping just a bit more.

You keep the same pace, consistent, precise, working him up without losing rhythm, your tongue and lips working together, spit and pre-cum already dripping down your chin. But is all worth it when you feel it—

The twitch.

The tension building.

A few more precise movements, a slight change in pressure, and then—

He breaks.

“Fuck, fuck, gonn a—“

His words are cut off as a low, deep moan escapes him. He releases, his body tensing as he spills hot loads of cum into your mouth. He closes his eyes at the feeling, barely able to keep his lips sealed.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, his orgasm washing over him, then — he finally looks at you. You were still on your knees, still sucking and slurping like your life depended on it.

“Fuckin’ hell— you’re takin’ everything,” he lets out a weak, breathy laugh. And it was true, you make sure to not let anything go to waste.

You suck him dry.

And he lets you — for a short while.

Only when the sensitivity kicks in does he tug at your hair, trying to catch his breath and helping you catch yours.

“Shit— too much—” he groans, needing another second to breathe, to recover as you pull away, licking your lips slowly, cleaning the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand as you look up at him.

Taking him in.

He’s leaned back against the couch now, hair messy, chest rising and falling steadily, his cock flushed and glistening, resting against his stomach now. His pants and boxers are still pushed down around his thighs as he spreads his legs, taking a lot of space like usual.

But he wasn’t the only one looking messy… he noticed your state too.

And fuck if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Your hair was deshiveled from his grabbing, your cheeks were flushed, lips plump and glistening with fluids… you looked so fucking pretty like this — on your knees for him, having his cum down your throat and looking at him with teary eyes — a sign of how hard you tried to take him.

You remain on the floor even if it wasn’t the most comfortable place, still close to him.

“So…” you finally break the silence softly.

His eyes snap back to yours, still catching his breath.

“Was this better than your dream?” you ask with a raised brow and a teasing grin.

But he won’t give you want to want. He already gave you enough.

He just scoffs at your question, rolling his head slightly to the side, trying to hide his smile.

miyanolovessasaki

i’m…a little confused…

alienqueen

Rip the bandaid off and tell him girl, because what happens when y’all get there and he’s not down?

jetblackwings

RESIST DARK REUNION, ACCEPT YOUR URGES (nta.)

s.geto

I have a question.

Eijiro was working out when you came to him with the…proposition.

Yeah. You.

“Hey, Eiji,” you ask, poking your head into the room. Eijiro doesn’t hear you, but he sees you, and takes a headphone off before racking the weights.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Eijiro still sweats anytime you’re in his relative vicinity. He’s gotten better at it, but you make eye contact like a motherfucker—staring past red irises and into his soul, perceiving all the secrets he keeps safe, in little boxes with little organized titles. You make him want to spill his guts.

“Kat and I are going to Hawaii in a few weeks, and we're wondering if you could come,” you smile, unassuming and confident, like Eijiro doesn’t know what’s in a few weeks. What date it is.

The two year anniversary of his fucking suffering.

(Technically, you’ve only been moved in for a year, but his suffering began the day you and Katsuki met, so.)

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Eijiro wipes clammy hands on his basketball shorts as you enter the room and take a seat on the exercise bench. You literally have clothes on, a casual sweatsuit fit, and Eijiro’s already drooling. He needs to get a grip.

(Or a girlfriend, his brain helpfully supplies, but that’s not fair to his hypothetical girlfriend. Not when Eijiro has yet to find anyone that measures up to you, holy shit—)

“Yes,” you giggle, like his response is strange. Eijiro’s brain is busy reeling, busy trying to decipher what this invite really means, that he misses your next sentence.

“Sorry—what did you say?”

“Just that it’d be more fun if you were there,” you wave your words off like they’re unimportant, but they are so, so important. Eijiro still doesn’t know what to make of it, though, and eventually gives up. He licks his lips and nods dutifully. He shouldn’t go—it seems like a very bad, not so good idea to go, but will he? Absolutely.

He can picture it now: you and Katsuki, late at night, getting down and dirty in the bed across from his, as quiet as you can, while he squints through closed eyes and jacks himself off into a pathetic state. And then, he sleeps in it, because what the fuck is he going to do—get up to clean himself off? Tell on himself?

“Okay, then I’ll go,” he smiles, and tries his best to hide the myriad of emotions pressing in on his lungs. Excitement, nervousness, confusion. Misery. It’s like Inside Out, but worse.

“Okay, great!” You clap twice, adjusting to, for some reason, get more comfortable in your seat. “Do you mind if I stay to watch?”

Eijiro waits for the other ball to drop. For you to explain that Kat is in the shower, or not even home, and you’re overwhelmingly bored—but, no. Nothing. That was the end of your sentence.

What the fuck.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, a little breathless and a lot confused. You stay for the duration of his workout, quiet as a mouse, and just…watching…

Eijirō nearly drops the barbell on his toes.

s.geto

I have a question.

cyberch!ck69

i have an answer.

s.geto

What do I do in this exact scenario if I’m the boyfriend?

The resort is so nice.

The lobby is open and airy, with poles instead of walls, and leads straight to the beach. Eijirō can see it. Can smell the salt in the air and hear seagulls squawking over food. As Katsuki talks to the concierge and checks in, Eijirō looks out to see calm and blue waters, poorly tamping his excitement with an impatient, bouncing foot. He, also, promptly pushes the last time he went to the beach out of his mind. Nope, not even thinking about it.

“Race you to the sea?” You ask, saddling up beside him. Eijirō shrugs.

“Sure.”

Immediately, you take off—leaving your bags behind and everything—and out the opening that leads to the water.

“Wait, right now?!” Eijirō squeaks, and looks to Katsuki, who isn’t paying either of you much mind, too busy barking at the concierge about something, probably their organizational practices, or another thing equally as trivial.

Eijirō makes a break for it.

He sees you weaving and cutting past cabanas, tripping over blankets and children, and follows the path your feet left in the sand, stomping them five sizes bigger. You’re both still sweaty in airplane clothes that are in no way conducive to these temperatures, but he makes it work—even if he ends up with sand in his sweats in the process.

It isn’t difficult to catch up to you, all things considered. Eijirō feels bad, debates on letting you win—until you turn around and stick a tongue out. Then, it’s fucking on.

“Gotcha!”

He snatches your waist just before the sea, swinging you around in tight arms before you can cross the imaginary finish line. After putting you down, he steps both feet into the ocean and cheers at your pout, doing a little victory dance.

“Aha! I win, I win, I wi—hey!”

Eijirō gets a face full of salt water, drenching him down his side and deepening the shade of his grey sweatsuit. The water is warm, but he chokes from shock regardless, and turns to look at his perpetrator with a new challenge in his eyes. You gulp.

“Wait, I didn’t—fuck!”

You whine when he pours a handful of water over your head. You accept your fate, sighing with your head down and hands open. Your white shirt sticks flush to your body, giving Eijirō the pleasure of revealing your bra underneath, and that’s—

“Oi, the fuck are you two doing?!”

Katsuki comes storming up to the shoreline, shaking sand out of his slides and grumbling with every other step. You and Eijirō stand in the water, white wake pooling around your ankles as the tide starts to recede. Katsuki huffs.

“It was his idea!” You point at the redhead to your right, who gapes at your audacity. For that, you get another handful of water over the head. “Wha—c’mon!”

“No, you both c’mon,” Katsuki hisses, pulling out three cards from his back pocket. “Got the room keys. You Dumbasses can frolic in the ocean afterwards.”

You two grouse, but agree. Because, Eijirō’s sweatpants stick to his thighs most uncomfortably, starting to stiffen from the salt—and you need a better shirt, preferably one that’s not white and wet and doesn’t highlight your bra beneath. So he can be sane again.

(He can’t help but feel like that sentence was all ‘Eijirō, Eijirō, Eijirō’ but also, guys, please—)

Katsuki walks to the hotel room with two soggy cats in his wake.

The pathways are just as open and airy as the lobby, with no walls on one side to provide a proper outlook to the ocean, and numbered rooms on the other. Theirs is on the top floor of the hotel, and luckily, not much of a shuffle from the elevator.

The room is just as nice as the hotel.

It’s spacious—Eijirō wouldn’t even classify it as a room, but a small apartment. There’s a kitchen and living room, all matching in a calming mahogany wood. Wood floors, wooden ceilings, wooden…wood, until everything but the soft furniture melts into one cohesive image. A pair of sliding doors lead to a balcony spanning the whole room, including the one bedroom—

Um.

“There’s only one bedroom,” Eijirō asks, because the hotel must have made a mistake. Not only is there only one bedroom, but one bed. The bed is big, sure—like, an Alaskan fucking King, more than enough to fit three comfortably—but this isn’t his anniversary, too.

(And yes, he knows his earlier fantasy is contingent on him technically sleeping in the same room, but the same bed is just—)

“Mm,” Katsuki grunts in acknowledgement. That’s about all he gets before you two drag your suitcases inside the bedroom, leaving Eijirō hovering in the doorway. He can sleep on the couch. That’s fine.

“What’re you waitin’ for, Shitty Hair,” Katsuki grumbles as he starts folding his clothes away, and to be honest, he isn’t exactly sure. Maybe for someone to tell him where to go.

“Yeah, c’mon! Feel the bed, it’s so comfy!” And, you’re jumping onto it back first. You hit the pillows with a muted pfft, and Katsuki immediately jumps into action.

“You’re all fuckin’ wet, get off,” he swats at your feet in encouragement, but you kick his hands away, and snuggle on top of the covers. When swatting fails, Katsuki starts to lightly tug at your legs. You don’t budge, and he stands over you with a warning in his eyes, hands on his hips.

“Babe.”

“No.”

“Baby.”

“No, Kats, I’m comfy.”

You wiggle deeper into the mattress, and Katsuki growls. He goes for your legs again, but a foot shoots out to kick him in his knee, his bad knee, leaving his leg to buckle. He catches himself before he falls with hands on either side of your head. This feels like a very intimate, very domestic situation that Eijirō should not be privy to, and yet, he is. Every day.

He’s okay. He’s fine, really.

“Move your ass,” Katsuki says after a long inhale through the nose, carefully, voice low and words over-enunciated. “Or, I’ll move it for you.”

You groan, but loop your arms around Katsuki’s neck like you aren’t going anywhere. With a laugh in your eyes, you bite back a grin. “No.”

“Fine,” Katsuki huffs, picking you up by the waist. You squeal, legs wrapping around his torso as he carries you to a desk in the corner of the room and drops you rather unceremoniously. You don’t let go, though. He doesn’t make you. “You piss me off.”

“Wow, my boyfriend is so big and strong,” you whine, completely overexaggerating, while caressing Katsuki by his shoulders. You giggle when he sighs.

“Shut the ever-loving fuck up. Please.”

“Why?” Your hand snakes from his shoulder to tangle in the nape of his neck, and Katsuki shivers. Eijirō lingers in the doorway. “Like it too much?”

Katsuki stands there for a second, relishing the feeling of your hands. His eyes flutter shut as your fingers card through his hair with something precious, and his next grumble has a lot less fire in it. “Do you wanna go to the beach or not?”

Finally, he unsticks you himself, with fingers around your wrists. You squeal at the sheer mention of the beach, squirming off the desk to start getting ready. “Ooh, yes! I’m gonna get all the Piña Coladas!”

“Let’s start with one,” Katsuki says, pressing a kiss to your temple before he resumes his unpacking. Why he insists on moving into every hotel he’s stayed in is lost to Eijirō. All he knows is that he’s happy his torture is over. For now.

“Are you gonna keep standing there like a weirdo?” Katsuki says, eyes focused on his activities. Eijirō knows it's directed at him—he’s the only one lingering. The only one ‘standing there like a weirdo.’ Eijirō grabs his things.

“Right. Right.”

cyberch!ck69

talk to them? 

s.geto

You’re useless.

cyberch!ck69

fine then, suffer in silence idgaf

When Eijirō finds time to get over himself, he realizes there is something about this that feels way too natural.

“That lady is staring at me weird—I’m gonna fight her.”

“No, you’re not,” Katsuki grunts, and grabs your hand before you can even consider getting up. Eijirō doesn’t really expect you to—you only say these things to give Katsuki a hard time, and he always falls for it, hook, line, and sinker. To the point that Eijirō is starting to think maybe he wants to. That maybe, that’s the whole point. “That’s just how old people look. They forget it’s fuckin’ rude to stare.”

Despite the all-inclusive resort, you three spend the first night eating out at a small restaurant not too far away. It’s a quaint and quiet barbecue spot, with cheap liquor and decent food. You insisted on going out, seeing the town, doing something, and despite Katsuki’s passionate argument—‘the whole point of an all-inclusive is to go fuckin’ nowhere’—he caved quick once it was two against one. (What? Eijirō wants to see the town, too—and he has a soft spot for cute girls with even cuter pouts.)

“I think that would count as elder abuse,” Eijirō says, once swallowing his food and getting a look at your newly proclaimed enemy. Empty shot glasses litter the table, some in stacks of three to make room for the food, and everyone sways a little from it all.

“Definitely does,” Katsuki sniffles and nods. He’s the most obviously drunk at this table—face flushed a bright pink and shirt collar askew. “Definitely would go to jail for it, too. I dunno how to get you outta Hawaiian jail, Babe.”

“Boo! Bribe them,” you heckle, throwing a big thumbs down in Katsuki’s face, and getting in the way of his barbecue chicken sandwich. Katsuki grunts and swats at the air twice until your thumb goes away. “Ooh! Or we could tunnel out, like El Chapo, or those guys from Alcatraz—”

“Those guys tunneled from the inside-out. ’M not going to jail with you.”

“Well—wait, no,” Eijirō says, gesturing to you. “What if we tunnel from the outside, and you tunnel from the inside, and we meet in the middle—”

“Omg, omg, I need spoons and a poster—”

“And, people are naturally corrupt, y’know, I’m sure there’s someone we could find to smuggle it inside—”

“You’re not goin’ to jail,” Katsuki groans through grit teeth, pointing at you, before his finger shifts to his friend across the booth. “And you’re not helping her escape from jail.”

“Oh wow, my boyfriend hates me,” you nod, picking at your food with a fork. Katsuki snatches a cherry tomato off Eijirō’s plate and stuffs it between your lips to keep you quiet. You spit it back out. “Would you even love me if I was a worm?”

Katsuki chucks his head back like this is a question you’ve asked many times before, and groans with nothing but pure frustration. “The fuck does that even mean?”

“It means ‘would you love her no matter what,’ Bro!”

“Thank you, Eiji,” you nod solemnly, suddenly, like this is a life-or-death conversation. “See? He gets it.”

“I’m gonna,” Katsuki incenses, looking at you with something heavier than just annoyance, something Eijirō, unfortunately, has seen too often to not understand—arousal. Suddenly, Eijirō feels like he’s shifting in the doorway of something unknown, again. Katsuki grabs your cheek and pinches. “You’ve been pissin’ me off all day.”

“Oh? And what’cha gonna do about it,” you smile smug past the distortion. Katsuki lets go of your face, and pats the sore area twice. Eijirō looks down at his plate. He’s not even here. He doesn’t even exist. (But, is he watching this entire interaction with one eye open? Perhaps.)

“You don’t wanna know,” Katsuki grunts in passing as he returns to his sandwich. Eijirō lets out a soft breath. This is going to be a rough trip.

“Well,” you say after a few moments of silence, clapping your hands together like they’re cymbals, calling to attention. “Now that I have a sufficient amount of liquid courage in me, it’s time to tell Eijirō the thing.”

Katsuki freezes—as does Eijirō.

“You didn’t tell him the thing,” Katsuki grumbles, looking at you like you’ve grown two heads. “I thought you told him the thing.”

“He’s here, isn’t he?” You argue, but when Katsuki’s look doesn’t budge, you deflate a little. “…I chickened out.”

“Again,” Katsuki adds with a sigh, running a hand over his face. Then, he redirects his gaze to Eijirō. “No wonder you’ve been acting weird.”

“Um,” Eijirō releases his own food to put hands in his lap. Would ‘the thing’ explain why he’s here in the first place? Because, if so, he’d like to know. “What thing?”

As you steeple hands in front of your face, Eijirō takes a sip of his Sprite. Sprite always tastes better when it comes in a cup instead of a can. He doesn’t know why—something about the fizziness, the freshness of it all. Honestly, he prefers Cherry Sprite, but that’s because he really likes cherry, and strawberry, and honestly, most things red, now that he thinks about it—

“I wanna watch you fuck her.”

Eijirō spits out his Sprite—he’s sure some came out of his nose with the propulsion, Jesus fuck—and possibly soaking his shirt in the process.

“I’m—sorry, what?”

Despite Eijirō’s respiratory distress, Katsuki watches with relative bemusement. You pass him a napkin, and Eijirō takes it thankfully.

“What part of that didn’t you get, Shitty Hair.”

“No, no, I—” Eijirō gives himself a few more seconds, a few more deep breaths, and slips half a grounding technique in there, just in case. “Just, like—I think I heard you correctly, but I’m—but I’m really not sure—”

“I wanna watch you fuck her,” Katsuki just…repeats, like Eijirō’s entire world hasn’t flipped on its axis. Like Atlas isn’t officially hanging upside-down, with his legs in the sky like a dying bug, flailing for any sort of friction to upright himself.

“So—” Eijirō starts, and coughs twice into a napkin before redirecting his question. “Why.”

“Because he thinks you’re hot,” you whisper, cupping a hand over your lips so Katsuki can’t read them. Not that it matters—you’re not muttering very quietly. “And so do I.”

Eijirō’s not sure if his face gets red, but he feels it, that heat. That overwhelming sensation to burn and melt away into nothing, and he’s simply trying to tamp it down, keep it safe, so he doesn’t end up making a fool of himself in this very nice, very clearly family-owned establishment.

He nods, though. You bet your ass he fucking nods.

He’d be stupid as fuck to pass this up, and Eijirō Kirishima does not take his curse words lightly.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

jetblackwings

RESIST DARK REUNION, ACCEPT YOUR URGES

kusuo_saiki

why are you everywhere i go

jetblackwings

fate, bro

Your energy is endless, and the next stop is a club.

It goes how it always does—you want something, Katsuki says no. Eijirō says it’s not that bad. Katsuki says fine.

The club is more packed than he expects. It’s not too far from the hotel, the place is full of foreigners, tourists looking for a good time on vacation, and then some. The theme is somewhat tropical, with warm orange lights, a smoke machine, and tree ferns in every corner. You hold onto Eijirō’s thumb and Katsuki’s wrist, yelling over your shoulder and above the heavy afrobeat that makes the floor rattle under his feet.

“Let’s go to the bar!”

“Where they sell overpriced shots?!” Katsuki yells back, almost immediately. You roll your eyes. “Absolutely not!”

And yet, you drag both of them closer to the bar, and further from the front door.

“I just want one,” you holler, and pull out that irresistible pout Eijirō loves so much. Fucked. He’s fucked. “If it’s really that deep, I’ll buy them!”

The bar counter is vaguely sticky, and the four working bartenders look a mess, screaming over the music to grab something, but no one can hear. There are two seats open—Eijirō takes one, Katsuki takes the other, and you take Katsuki’s lap.

“’M not letting my girlfriend buy me a shot,” Katsuki huffs, and pulls his wallet out from his back pocket. After waving a bartender over, he grumbles, “Three shots of Kauaʻi Coconut Rum.”

“Oh, boohoo,” you whine, dropping your head back on his shoulder. Then, with one eye open, “Eijirō would let me buy him a shot.”

“Hey! Don’t bring me into this,” Eijirō chuckles, resting a forearm against the counter. Sticky. Immediate regret floods his system, but he’s made his bed and proceeds to lie in it.

“Am I wrong?” You lift an eyebrow. Eijirō stutters.

Because, if a pretty girl bought him a shot, would he let her? Yeah, probably. And, if you bought him a shot, would he let you? Absolutely.

But, that’s neither here nor there.

“Shitty Hair…”

“Guys, I’m not a part of this,” he whines, and as if on cue, their shots slide across the counter. Everyone grabs hold of theirs.

“Okay, wait, wait, I wanna do a toast,” you sniff, a little wobbly. You lift your shot glass, waiting for the rest of them to follow suit. Eijirō doesn’t hesitate, and while Katsuki grumbles, he raises his own. Then, with your chest, you yell, “To me, getting plowed!”

Katsuki drops his head on your shoulder. Thank God you made the toast before they took shots to the head, or Eijirō would be choking all over again.

“Baby, you can’t just—”

“Why would you even—”

You pay their plight no mind, chucking your head back as you swallow the shot. Eijirō follows; he needs one after that, and is wildly unsatisfied when he realizes it’s watered down.

Katsuki sets his glass down with a clink and a growl.

“’Kay, can we fuckin’ go, now?”

“No!” You bark, sliding off his legs unceremoniously. You slip a little, and Eijirō catches you by the waist before you can stumble into him, and tries not to think about how well you fit. When he lets go, he still feels your warmth burning into his palms. His fist opens and closes on his thigh. “I wanna dance!”

Katsuki leans his head back, and groans.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Eijirō!”

You both say his name at the exact same time, like he’s been deemed the official tie-breaker—like it’s his fault you two argue like an old married couple, and he needs to fix his mess. When Eijirō shrinks in his seat, looking at Katsuki, both of you know what his answer is.

“Fuckin’—fine,” Katsuki huffs and stands almost as clumsy as you. You giggle a yay, and take Eijirō’s hand before he has a chance to stand.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” you bounce. Eijirō comes stumbling behind you—because, for someone with little feet, you move real fast—and you find a corner of the dance floor to make your own.

The beat grows in volume and aggression the closer they get to the dance floor. With a steady grip on both of their hands, you start jumping up and down, yanking at their arms to bounce with you. Katsuki grumbles something with a straight face—Eijirō starts hopping along, until it’s a two-person mosh pit, with Katsuki’s unimpressed shoulders jerking under the weight.

“C’mon, Kat!” Eijirō yells over the music. Katsuki looks at him, but his feet are firmly planted on the ground.

“Please,” you whine when he doesn’t budge. Eijirō thinks that Katsuki’s arms would be crossed if they could. “You’ll have fun!”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. His heels rise and drop, slowly, completely against the beat, and without the balls of his feet separating from the tiled floor. “This is not fun.”

“Because you’re not doing it right!” Eijirō says, tugging him closer. Katsuki stumbles forth. “You gotta jump!”

“It’s too late for this shit,” Katsuki huffs, but jumps. Once. “I don’t know how you two are grown-ass adults with this type of energy.”

You quit your jumping, chest heaving in a pant, and sweating skin glistening under halogen lights. Eijirō follows suit, a little less out of breath, but you were going hard. Katsuki exhales, thankful his torture is over, for now.

The song changes into something slower. Not too slow; a trap beat still hides underneath, but slow enough to calm his hammering heart. Eijirō has always loved clubs—enough alcohol to make people friendly, the humid atmosphere from too many bodies in one place, the way the music is all-consuming enough to block out the buzz of the world…

Eijirō shakes himself out of his reminiscent stupor to see Katsuki draped over your back. His hands hold your hips steady, swaying, and while you aren’t grinding, you’re pretty damn close.

You grab Eijirō by his shirt.

The redhead takes a deep, steadying breath. He’s not sure whether it's the alcohol or the sight that makes his head spin. Maybe, it’s the fact that he’s included, for the first time.

All he knows is that he really, really does not want to fuck this up.

No pressure.

His hands find your hips, running over Katsuki’s. He looks at his friend, double-checking if this is okay, if he’s crossing a line. Katsuki’s nose is in your neck, brushing against your jaw, utterly unbothered. He takes it as an O.K.

You hum, arms wrapping around Eijirō’s neck to the best of your ability. He’s not sure you’re even standing, simply leaning your weight against Katsuki, and trusting Eijirō enough to keep you from falling forward. There isn’t much space for you to, anyway. Your chin is pressed flush against his chest, looking up at him like he has something you want, and he’s not exactly sure what to do about that.

He lets a ‘fuck’ slip, quiet enough to fit under his breath and completely involuntary. It’s not his fault—your lip gloss glistens in the shifting light, and he can’t stop looking at it. Katsuki mutters something into your neck, and you giggle, hips shifting forward so you can grind against Eijirō, too.

He’s losing his mind, a little.

Because, this feels better than he could’ve imagined—you fit better than he could’ve imagined. The alcohol, the lights, and the faint fog soften the edges of everything, to the point where it feels like he’s walking in a very vivid dream, like he’ll wake up at the most inopportune time, sweaty, sad, and probably rock hard. Katsuki groans under his breath, and Eijirō finally peels his eyes away from your face to notice that his friend isn’t doing much better.

“God, this is fuckin’ hot,” Katsuki grunts, and you giggle with a bottom lip tucked between your teeth, eyes way too bright with excitement. Eijirō huffs a laugh.

“Cool, ‘cause I was thinking the same thing.”

Katsuki grunts again, and grinds into you harder, heavier. You don’t stumble forward, but you would’ve if the redhead weren’t there to take the brunt of the blow.

One of Eijirō’s hands starts to wander.

Completely of its own volition—he was totally content to keep them at your sides, swear—it caresses your waist, running up and down, contemplating the feel of your skin under your dress. He takes another deep inhale, for his sanity.

Katsuki, on the other hand, lost his sanity a long time ago.

One of his hands leaves your hip, too—the one that’s not still trapped under Eijirō’s own—sliding up your stomach, over your breasts. Eventually, it comes to rest at your neck. Eijirō knows when he squeezes, because as his wrist flexes, your eyes bulge, then melt. Eijirō simply tries to memorize it all—the wild look in Katsuki’s eyes, the entreating one in yours—just in case this is a one-time thing. Or, if you change your mind.

(This isn’t a one time thing, nor are you going to change your mind.)

While Eijirō doesn’t hear your whimper, he does feel it. Which is torture to someone who’s heard your moans through the walls for the past year.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” Katsuki hums to himself, shaking his hand on your neck until your head bobs. Then, carmine eyes turn to Eijirō, piercing through the aimless float of smoke. “Ain’t she?”

Eijirō remembers the first time Katsuki asked him this question a couple of months ago, at the beach. He had an answer then, but didn’t want to say it. And, he’s got an answer now.

“Yeah,” he breathes, watching your body curl in between them. His thumb comes to pull at your lip, smearing lip gloss across your cheek in the pattern of his fingerprint. “Bet she’d look even prettier with something in her mouth, though.”

“Fuck.” Katsuki groans like the sound is punched out of his gut, and his hand on your waist tightens. Eijirō feels it and follows suit. “I wanna fuck. Like, now.”

Eijirō laughs, throat tight and voice hoarse from arousal. “That can be arranged.”

And, you—you’re just happily swaying between the two of them, eyes lidded and humming along to the music. Like you were built for this, built to handle both of them at once, and, that thought is—

Eijirō takes another deep breath, squeezing your side once more before stepping away.

“Hotel?” He asks. You and Katsuki nod and respond at the same time.

“Hotel.”

geordo.s

fascinating. is this how peasants live?

cyberch!ck69

PEASANTS?

kurapika.chu

You're slightly the asshole—not because of what you did, but because you didn't tell him beforehand.

eren.exe

mmmm idk if you’re the asshole tbh

When you three get back to the hotel, though…

“I don’t wanna fuck tonight!”

Katsuki’s got his shirt halfway off his head, cloth still stuck around his elbows, as he looks at you like you’re clinically insane.

“Fuckin’ what.”

“You heard me!” You giggle, collapsing into the bed with your club clothes still on. Everybody is reasonably drunk, at this point—and Eijirō starts to wonder if you’re having cold feet. Katsuki is quick to put that worry to rest, though.

“No,” he huffs, taking the rest of his shirt off, before he starts pulling your legs like he was earlier and wagging a finger in your face. “No—no, we’re not doing that shit again.”

You lift your head, voice gargling from the awkward position of your neck. “What ‘shit’?”

“You’re fuckin’—you’re fuckin’—” Katsuki stutters in the way he always does when immensely frustrated, and growls at the ceiling steadily, before starting again. “You’re fuckin’ ‘oh, let's wait, it feels so good if we wait.’ I’m not—no.”

Katsuki mocks your voice, as nasal and high-pitched as he can muster, and it earns him a hearty pillow to the face. He snatches it away, reddened face growing deeper in frustration. And Eijirō, who’s still a little confused as to where he’s going to sleep, lingers in the doorway once again.

“Like…edging?”

“Yes!” Katsuki points at his friend, now borderline pacing. “Except—except it’s fuckin’ worse. She’s a tease—it’s teasin’, that’s the fuckin’ word!”

“I’m glad we could come to that conclusion together, Katsuki,” you sit up with a bright smile. Then, kicking a leg out, “Now, help me take my shoes off!”

Katsuki groans, and looks at you with deflating shoulders. His pacing stalls.

“Are we really not gonna fuck tonight?”

“Nope!”

“Fuck!”

“Well, we are here for about a week,” Eijirō tries to placate with a shrug. “We have time.”

“Plus, when we get back,” you nod, kicking the heels of your feet against the bed. Eijirō didn’t know ‘when we get back’ was an option, but he’s most definitely not complaining. You lift your foot again. “Shoes.”

Katsuki grumbles something else that Eijirō can’t quite hear, and gets down on one knee. Your shoes are confusing to look at—they’re heels, with straps that wrap around your leg and end just below the knee. Yeah, if Eijirō wore those all night, he wouldn’t have the energy to take them off, either. As Katsuki starts to undo the bow at the top, you look at Eijirō, and lift your other foot.

“Shoes.”

“Oh, you want me to—”

You nod. “Shoes.”

Eijirō passes the threshold and mimics his roommate—gets down on one knee, and pulls your foot to his thigh. You let out a satisfied hum, nodding your head twice, like somehow, Eijirō’s added presence satiates something. What that something is, though, he isn’t quite sure.

“You happy?” Katsuki grunts, halfway done unlacing. He glares at you, but you just smile lazy and pat both of their heads.

“Mhm,” you nod. “Very. My good boys, taking care of me…”

You sound tired, and Eijirō snorts as Katsuki’s blush deepens. “Don’t fall asleep on us, now.”

“’M not,” you slur, resting a head on your shoulder. Katsuki slides off one shoe, and Eijirō takes the other. You wiggle your toes.

“Y’still gotta change outta this, though,” Katsuki grunts on his way up, snapping the strap of your dress. You whine, collapsing back into the bed with an exhale.

“No! I’m sleeping naked!”

“And, that’s fine,” Katsuki snorts in a soft voice, leaning over you. “Y’can’t sleep in this, though.”

You whine. “Why not.”

“’Cause,” he tugs at the bottom of the dress, “this shit was expensive. I know, ‘cause I paid for it.”

“Ugh,” you groan, loud and drawn out, before sitting up again. “Fine. Someone’s gotta unzip me, though.”

Katsuki runs the zipper down the back of your dress. Eijirō just…turns around, unsure where to put himself, opting to change as discreet as possible. You huff once free, hobbling towards your suitcase with your dress still on but unzipped, only to realize—

“Uh oh…”

Katsuki, who’s already gotten ready for sleep—no shirt and grey sweatpants—looks at you and huffs. “What.”

You turn to both of them with a guilty smile, still uncomfortably hunched over your suitcase.

“I forgot my pj’s.”

Katsuki sighs long until his Adam's apple pops. “Y’gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

Your awkward grin just widens. “Oopsie?”

“Well, I don’t have a fuckin’ shirt for you to wear,” Katsuki drops arms at his sides, and proceeds to fold his clothes from today and put them away. “Like, literally. I brought fancy ass vacation shit—I didn’t bring a singular t-shirt.”

“You can wear one of mine!” Eijirō says, a little too quick for comfort, but what can he do about it? He already blurted it out. Your eyes light up, though.

“Really?”

“Yeah, one sec—”

He stands from his seated position on the floor (don’t judge him; he doesn’t know where to sit), knees popping, as he makes his way to his own suitcase. He files through the plethora of t-shirts he brought— that’s all he wears—and tosses one over his shoulder without even looking at it. You catch it with your face.

“Thank you!” You sing-song. Eijirō looks over his shoulder to give you a thumbs up, only to realize you’re fully stripped save for your panties, and very quickly looks away.

“Yeah, no problem,” he mutters weakly. When he closes his eyes, he still sees you naked, so he starts folding his clothes back into his suitcase like he’s Katsuki Bakugō, instead.

“Ooh, this is soft!”

Eijirō finally deems it okay to look—hoping you’re not just, like, feeling his shirt in your hands, but actually wearing it. Except, this sight isn’t much better. You’re only in his shirt, the Crimson Riot one. It’s beyond oversized, collar loose and hem ending mid-thigh. Eijirō tries not to think about it too much.

(He’s thinking about it. Oh, he’s totally thinking about it.)

Katsuki’s already on the bed, propped up on an arm. When he sees the shirt's design, he snorts.

“When are you gonna get over that comic book character?” He grunts, like Eijirō’s hair isn’t still red.

“When are you gonna start being nice to strangers?” Eijirō asks as he gets up, brushing stray carpet lint from his basketball shorts. Katsuki barks a laugh.

“Fuckin’ never.”

“Exactly,” Eijirō nods. You flop into bed right beside Katsuki, who wraps a steady arm around your waist. Eijirō takes a deep breath. Someone tell him where to go. Please.

It’s like you hear his internal battle. You pat the open space next to you, enough room for one more person, and Eijirō swallows. Wait, so like—

“Are you comin’ to bed or not, Shitty Hair?”

Yeah, okay. Yep.

Eijirō slides in right next to you, slow and awkward in case either of you wants to change your mind. You don’t. Katsuki reaches behind himself to turn the lamp off, and suddenly, everyone is plunged into darkness.

“Hi,” you giggle as Eijirō lays his head on the pillow. He snorts.

“Hi.”

“Hi, bye, goodnight—if we’re not fuckin’, go to sleep!”

You swat Katsuki’s bad attitude away, looking over your shoulder where his head nestles. “Okay, okay. Got it. G’night, Katsuki.”

“Good fuckin’ night,” he grumbles, but when you purse your lips, he meets them with his own. Then, you turn back to Eijirō, who’s lying uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, putting enough space between you and him to fit a tiny person.

“G’night Eijirō,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist to tug him closer. He lets you, sliding an arm under the pillows, right along Katsuki’s.

“Goodnight.”

Then, you purse your lips again, waiting for a kiss.

Eijirō hesitates.

And, apparently, you don’t like hesitation. Your puckered lips turn into a pout. “Kiss.”

Eijirō stifles the butterflies in his belly, and leans in.

Your lips are soft, warm from alcohol and the evening’s activities, and then, they’re gone.

Eijirō lays his head back on the pillow, rightfully worn out. A long flight, a beach race, a dinner, a club, new information—his head is still reeling, trying to catalogue it all, but he’s only focused on one thing. You.

With a yawn, Eijirō gets comfortable because he’s allowed.

“Night, Ei.”

Katsuki’s voice rings low through the quiet room—quiet enough that Eijirō sort of assumed both of you had fallen asleep already. The hand running on the underside of his arm squeezes it, three times.

“G’night, Kat.”

Eijirō squeezes him back. One-two-three.

t.kageyama

i have yet to decide whether im too old or too young for this app.

geordo.s

fascinating. is this how peasants live?

cyberch!ck69

PEASANTS?

cyberch!ck69

PEASANTS?????

Eijirō wakes up to you and Katsuki whispering like little conspirators.

“Ugh—who let me drink so much last night?”

Sunlight escapes through thick curtains, cut into thin lines and scattering the room in patterns. Eijirō’s slightly startled for a second, before remembering where he is and, more importantly, the events from last night.

‘I wanna watch you fuck her.’

Right. Right.

“I don’t wanna hear shit,” Katsuki yawns beside you, scratching his stomach. “We tried to cut you off. You said, and I quote, ‘Don’t tell me what to do, I’m a grown ass woman.’”

“Oh,” you say softly, dragging hands down your face. “Yeah, I kinda remember that.”

Your back is facing Eijirō as you pillow talk with your boyfriend, and in a way, it feels like he’s looking through the crack in the door again. Except, he’s allowed to look through the crack, maybe step through it a little, and does just that.

Eijirō nods his bird nest against the pillow and lifts up a sleepy fist. “Work hard, party harder.”

“Hell yeah,” you nod, looking over your shoulder to fist bump him properly. While unconscious, he scooted closer, leaving you squished between two hard bodies. You aren’t complaining, though. With a voice raspy from sleep and screaming over club music, you smile, “Good morning, Eijirō.”

Katsuki grunts in acknowledgement, coffee-less and therefore relatively silent. Eijirō beams. “Morning, everybody. How’d we sleep?”

“Ugh, great,” you say, melting deeper into the covers. “Like a baby.”

“No, you slept like a menace—kickin’ me and shit,” Katsuki grumbles, placing hands on your waist to tug you closer regardless. And, it’s a little weird—seeing Katsuki so overwhelmingly unguarded. So soft.

“Oh, that’s what that was?” Eijirō wakes up feeling bold this morning, and tests the waters, wrapping an arm around your waist, too. It runs along Katsuki’s until it dips below, resting just above your belly button.

“Maybe,” you say, a little guilty. “But, it’s not my fault! I picked up the habit because Katsuki starfishes, so I subconsciously kick his legs back together. See?”

Eijirō has never seen someone kick so hard laying down in his life.

It’s actually pretty impressive—how you manage to know exactly where Katsuki’s foot lies, and aim with utmost precision. He sees Katsuki’s leg reel under the covers as he hisses in pain.

“Ah—the fuck? You’re not the only one with a hangover, y’know.”

You let out an evil little cackle, but kiss Katsuki on the forehead to placate him. He hums in satisfaction. Placation: successful.

“How’d you sleep, Eiji?”

“Like a rock,” he huffs, and snuggles closer. For warmth, he tells himself. Because he’s allowed.

“Good, good,” you wave over your shoulder, and yawn. “’Kay, well I’m gonna go back to bed—”

“Hell no. We’re fuckin’ now,” Katsuki grunts, eyes still closed and face still swollen. He’s half awake. You pout while Eijirō snickers, and the blond peeks an eye out. “Fuckin’ what.”

“Nothing,” Eijirō hums, shaking his head. He presses his chin into your shoulder to see Katsuki better. “You just seem impatient.”

“I am,” Katsuki makes a pained groan. “I’ve waited a whole goddamn year. Now, Baby—strip.”

A year?

You whine again, giving Eijirō absolutely no time to do the math, to understand the repercussions of what Katsuki confessed. Shit, maybe he should go back to bed too. Just to, like, sit on that information for an hour or two.

“I don’t wanna,” you pout, dragging out the last word in the most obnoxious tone you can muster. “My head hurts. Later.”

“When is later,” Katsuki over-enunciates, clearly hanging on by a thread. You shift under the covers, ass pressing against Eijirō’s crotch, and—oh. Is that morning wood?

“Later is…later,” you huff, tucking the fluffy hotel duvet under your chin. Then, with another wiggle of your ass, “You’re not the only one having a hard time, you know.”

Eijirō juts his bottom lip in a pout, and tightens his hand on your stomach to get you to stop, please. Because, Katsuki was right about one thing—not being able to fuck you is torture. And now that Eijirō knows he can, it only makes it worse.

“Hey,” the redhead whines, because, low blow. It’s a low blow from you, and a low blow from his body for telling on him. It’s a low blow from the gods, who put him in this situation to begin with. “Not cool, Dude.”

“Are you really gonna call me dude when your dick is pressed against my back,” you snort, and Eijirō hears Katsuki’s breath hitch. Feels the arm on your waist squeeze a little tighter.

“Yeah,” Eijirō licks his lips, watching your hips fall into a light and slow but steady pace. Katsuki’s hand slides to your back and drags a light line down your spine. “You’re being mean.”

Because, what’s the point of grinding if you don’t wanna fuck?

“I can be meaner,” you say, with a smile flashing over your shoulder. Eijirō whimpers as you push more weight into him, and keep pushing. He looks at Katsuki for help, but he’s busy watching your body curl, too.

“Kat,” Eijirō whines, actually pleads, because, “help me.”

“Nah,” Katsuki huffs, getting comfortable on the pillow, and pats your side. “Now y’get to handle what I’ve been dealing with for the past two years.”

All Eijirō hears is: at least it’s not me.

And, honestly? Fuck him for that.

“This is horrible,” Eijirō laments after a sharp inhale, rubbing his face into your neck like it’ll make him feel better. It doesn’t. If anything, he’s flooded with the scent of you, more than he already was, and it makes his dick jump in his shorts. Nudging you in the side, “Okay, c’mon—no more.”

“But, I thought you guys were horny,” you tease, the lilt in your tone undeniable. “I’m just taking the edge off a bit.”

You're pressed flush to Eijirō now—even the slightest grind, and he’d feel it. Except, nothing about this is slight. It’s heavy and hot and makes his breathing pick up in the way only one thing can.

“This isn’t—this is, like, sharpening the edge,” Eijirō reasons aloud, huffing into your shoulder. “This is like dangling me over the cliff, and being like, ‘oh, don’t fall.’”

You cackle at that, like you know. Another roll of your hips, then, “You can stop me if you want.”

Eijirō whines, loud and long and pathetic, because you don’t understand—he cannot. You feel too good, too real, too solid, and as someone who’s been dreaming of this all year, no, Eijirō cannot simply stop you.

You giggle when he doesn’t, when his hands scramble for your sides instead, sitting above Katsuki’s just like last night. And, at the thought of last night, Eijirō pulls you a little closer. He doesn’t know how long he can take this before returning to his natural state—weak, pitiful, and overall, severely down bad.

After a little longer, room filled with human humidity and heavy pants, you stop grinding. Sit up.

“Okay, I should probably get breakfast to help my headache,” you yawn with a hand over your mouth. “Before I fall back asleep.”

Katsuki gets up on an arm, hair still flattened on one side from sleep. “Y’gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

You smile, innocent and polite, like you aren’t the bane of their existences. “Anyone want anything?”

“Fuckin’—you, the fuck,” Katsuki huffs, tugging at your midsection to bring you back under the covers, but you don’t budge. Instead, you peel his hands off your hips.

Then, you crawl out of bed, on all fours and face first, and Eijirō is forced to watch your ass move in his Crimson Riot shirt, panties slightly askew. He’s so close he can taste it, and just watches at the overhead fan. He won’t know if he can’t see. (And, if he knows, he’ll lose his mind.)

You throw on a pair of sweatpants, and you’re out the door with a click. Eijirō and Katsuki are left with the hum of the AC and a very silent room.

“Cold shower?” Katsuki grumbles, staring at the ceiling with something wistful. Eijirō nods.

“Yep.”

akira.aaaaaah

this poor guy, ik he’s stressed

zenitsuckthesenuts

oooh lemme be a fourth 

kid.death

What the fuck is wrong with people?

Eijirō doesn’t know why you left him and Katsuki alone like that. Also, cold showers suck.

So, they didn’t take one.

“F-Fuck, Dude, holy shit—”

Thanks to the wetness from constant running water, Katsuki’s hand slides easy. The tile is cold against his back, but Eijirō sweats anyway, arm pumping as his own hand glides smooth along a cock that isn’t his.

“Why the fuck are your hands so soft?” Katsuki pants into his neck. He has Eijirō pinned to the side of the shower, just out the way of the spray. This is a moment of severe weakness, and Eijirō hopes what happens in the shower, stays in the shower.

(Katsuki can always touch his dick, though. Not that part.)

“Lotion, Man,” Eijirō says past a breathless laugh, droplets sliding off the sharp ends of his hair and rolling down Katsuki’s shoulder. Eijirō’s face flinches in pleasure, and while he tries to keep his sounds to a minimum—this is still a little weird, this is still just his Bro—little squeaky whines slip from his lips. He was more desperate to get in Katsuki’s hands than he thought. “How are your hands so rough?”

“’Cause I’m a man that works with his hands,” Katsuki postures, and Eijirō snorts.

“Kat, you have a desk job.”

“Shut the fuck up, and cum already,” He grunts, lips moving against Eijirō’s neck in a way that makes him shiver, even if it’s accidental. Katsuki’s grip gets tighter, and so does his.

“You can’t rush orgasms, Dude,” Eijirō says, tries to say, but ‘dude’ turns into a really embarrassing whine he hopes was drowned out by running water. He knows it wasn’t. “That’s, like, Sex 101.”

“I’m not fuckin’ rushin’ it, she’s rushin’ it,” Katsuki says behind a deep growl, and Eijirō’s cock jumps. “We’ve got five minutes, tops.”

Eijirō knocks his head back into the tile, a little too hard, and winces at the feeling. Katsuki’s head falls off his shoulder. Shower smoke fogs the glass doors and curls toward the one canned light in the ceiling.

“I know, I know,” he whines. He’s not even standing on his feet anymore—fully leaned against the shower wall, with Katsuki keeping him upright at his front. And, Katsuki’s dick is so pretty. It’s curved and flushed and just as glossy and pale as his skin. Eijirō watches pre-cum bead at his tip before sliding down the shaft, running down Eijirō’s knuckles and disappearing in the slide. Katsuki’s cock jumps, too. With a weak grin and a lilt in his voice, Eijirō asks, “I turn you on, Dude?”

And Katsuki, whose eyes are trained on Eijirō’s own dick, finally looks away to huff in his face. “You already know the answer to that question, Dumbass”

Eijirō bites his lip. He wants to hold onto Katsuki, more than he already is. He wants a hand on his hip, gliding over those shower-slick muscles Eijirō remembers him working so hard to get, wants to see how easy it is to redden his skin, wants to see if his nipples are sensitive. He wants…he wants—

“Shit, I’m close,” Eijirō pants, eyebrows folding. He looks at Katsuki. “Are you close?”

“Stop askin’ stupid questions,” Katsuki grunts, but leans forward a bit. Incrementally—but enough for Eijirō to notice—like he’s melting. Then, an afterthought, “Not cummin’ before you, though.”

Eijirō wheezes a laugh, tight and bright and a little bit bitter. “Dude, now is not the time for a competition.”

Putting a hand next to Eijirō’s head, on the slippery tile, Katsuki’s eyes flit down to his lips. Return to his eyes. “Now’s definitely the time for a competition.”

“No, Bro,” he shakes his head, then licks his lips—because Katsuki keeps looking at them like he wants something. And, y’know, maybe Eijirō’s eyes slip a little, too. “’Cause then I’m gonna try to hold out. We don’t have time for that.”

“Then cum,” Katsuki says, like it’s easy, and suddenly much closer than Eijirō remembers. Katsuki’s smile turns cocky, and that’s the exact moment he knows he’s screwed. Or, maybe it’s when Katsuki drags a thumb along his jawline. “Be a good boy for me, and cum.”

“Oh, that’s not fucking fair,” Eijirō whimpers, finally caving and grabbing Katsuki by his waist. “That’s not fair at all, Kat, I—”

“Awh,” Katsuki coos and clicks his tongue. The thumb on Eijirō’s jaw lifts his head, and he can feel Katsuki’s condescending breath on his lips as he says, “’S okay, Ei. Just let go.”

“I—”

Knock, knock, knock!

They jump apart. Eijirō slips on water and nearly falls on his ass. Katsuki catches him, though.

“What are you two doing in there?!”

Your voice is muffled by the door, but still sounds just as lovely. The hands Katsuki has around his waist tighten.

“Fuckin’ showerin’!” Katsuki hollers, voice echoing off glass and tile. He lets go of Eijirō, and turns the shower handle from hot to freezing. Under his breath, he grumbles, “Nosy.”

“I heard that!”

“Good!”

horihori

nta, GET THAT DICK BITCH

yurikatsuki’sno1hater

Yuri Katsuki is a professional figure skater from Hatsetsu Japan, certified by the JSF. At age 18, he moved to Detriot to train under Coach Celestino Cialdini, only to come back and LOSE TO THE MUCH SUPERIOR AND EXTREMELY HANDSOME YURI PLISETSKY SUCK MY DICK

cyberch!ck69

what does this have to do with anything i just said?

yurikatsuki’sno1hater

It doesn’t

Unfortunately, before they both realized you were going to be a tease, Katsuki signed everyone up for snorkeling after breakfast. And, he takes his reservations very seriously. Especially ones with thirty-dollar cancellation fees. Thirty dollars each.

“Move your asses, we’re gonna be late.”

(And, Eijirō is really trying—to move his ass. But, it’s extremely difficult to stuff a rock-hard dick into awfully short swim shorts, and then hide it. He’s trying.)

They end up arriving about five minutes late, which isn’t late for the hotel, used to dealing with people on vacation with lax schedules, but it is late for Katsuki. Being on time is late for Katsuki.

The instructor gives them routine warnings and directions—stay away from the coral reefs, keep within the buoys, don’t wear anything shiny, remember to avoid breathing through your nose. Katsuki thinks the last one is self-explanatory, but people are dumbasses.

Katsuki didn’t realize how much of a dumbass he’d look, though, in goggles too big and the snorkel a comical thing next to his face. Somehow, Shitty Hair makes it work, and that pisses him off even more.

Snorkeling was fine—it was fun. Though he’ll never say it aloud, Katsuki liked looking at the different types of fish while floating on the water's surface. Eventually, Eijirō returns to the beach, too tired from last night’s activities and probably a little horny, opting to lounge on a chair to catch a tan. The tide slowly pulls you and Katsuki into a small grotto, still within the buoy's boundaries, and that’s where you two take a breather.

“This is fun,” you smile, picking the goggles off your head and stuffing them into your hair. It leaves your snorkel in a wonky position. “There are even fish in here, look!”

You point to the shallow waters lapping at your feet from where you’re standing on the rock. Katsuki watches your ass protrude as you bend over.

He might’ve made everyone go snorkeling, but there’s still only one thing on his mind.

Katsuki hums, but he’s not even looking at the fish. He’s looking at you—how minimal sunlight bounces off your wet skin and makes it shine, how your fat bends and curls with every shift, how you turn to him with bright eyes, like you forgot the whole point of this trip in the first place.

When Katsuki pushes you against the rough cave wall, he doesn’t know why you act surprised.

“Wha—Katsuki!”

His mouth is on yours before you can get another word in, clammy hands gripping your sides as Katsuki gives you a taste of your own medicine. Your kisses start out soft, broken by giggles, but Katsuki very quickly brings you down to his level—fucking desperate.

“Kats,” you whimper, and Katsuki moves to your neck, dragging his tongue along your pulse point and making you shiver. You press at his shoulders, but it’s not enough to push him away. “Kats—we shouldn’t—someone could walk in, or—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Katsuki growls. One of the hands on your hips slowly snakes lower, grabbing the side of your swimsuit bottoms and tugging upward until you can feel it strain against your clit. You huff, looking up at him with that swell in your eyes he loves so much, so he tugs again.

“Kats—”

“I’m tired of your shit.”

His other hand slides upwards, wrenching your bathing suit top to the side and freeing a breast to tweak a nipple. He can feel your breath puff on his bare skin as you sigh, lolling your head to the right just enough to give him more room to work with. And, work with, he does.

After too much tugging and teasing, Katsuki dips a hand beneath a damp waistband. He needs to feel you—and groans when he finally does, because holy shit, how are you so wet.

“You drive me crazy, y’know that,” he grunts, fingers slowly rolling over your skin in a way you deem pleasurable. Your eyes flutter in response. Katsuki presses harder. “Prancin’ around in practically nothin’, and you still won’t lemme touch you.”

You let out a moan too loud for a public space, cracking against craggy cave walls and echoing through the grotto. Your hands find his shoulders for purchase, wrapping around his neck in a way that almost chokes, but Katsuki barely feels it. No, all he feels is you, and the swell of his dick.

“And here you are, all fuckin’ needy,” he huffs a laugh, grin scraping against your skin, bending it in his wake. Your hips buck, so his hands still. “Ah-ah. You’re not cummin’ yet.”

You whimper, licking your lips and panting, huffing, with your askew top shuddering with every exhale. Goosebumps rise on Katsuki’s skin, flatten into nothing, then rise again.

“Kats, please—”

“Please ain’t gon’ get you anywhere, Princess,” Katsuki growls, free hand finding your chin to lift it, while the other continues its steady ministrations between your legs. “You played with me—now it’s my turn to return the favor, right? Like a good boyfriend?”

Katsuki’s words are mocking enough to make you shiver in the way he loves, and your nails dig into his shoulders tight enough to leave crescents in your wake. The sting runs straight to Katsuki’s dick, and stays there.

“F-Fuck you,” you manage to hiss, lacking vitriol and replacing it with ecstasy and an undercurrent of annoyance. Your hips hitch again, so Katsuki stills again.

“See, that attitude right there is the reason you’re cummin’ last, tonight,” Katsuki’s grip tightens on your cheeks enough to make them squish, enough for him to feel the groove of your teeth through the skin. His hand is wet with you, now—fingers fucking soaked, and all he did was rub your clit for about five minutes. You whine.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight,” Katsuki over-enunciates, hoping to bury it in your thick skull that you’re not getting an orgasm until the moon is high in the sky and everyone has returned to their rooms to knock out—you can sing with the crickets, for all he cares. Your face curdles into a pout between his fingers, the pout that lets him know you now understand that you’ve bit off more than you can chew. Katsuki clicks his tongue. “You’ve been actin’ a brat this whole damn trip. Y’don’t just get shit ‘cause you asked for it, y’get shit ‘cause you work for it.”

With that, Katsuki releases your face. You collapse against the cave wall, bathing suit still twisted and goggles hanging on your head by a strand of hair.

“I’m not being a brat,” you scoff, gathering yourself and your bathing suit, with a slightly unsteady voice and shaky hands. “I—I was…poetically and sexually inclined, okay, that’s not even—”

“Baby,” Katsuki grunts, and levels you with a look.

“…Yes?”

“Shut the hell up before I fuck you right here.”

s.geto

Okay, how do I ask them?

cyberch!ck69

YOU’VE COME CRAWLING BACK I SEE

s.geto

Nvm.

After snorkeling is lunch. After lunch is a lei-making class. Katsuki tore half the carnations with hands that aren’t built to handle delicate things, and you spent the whole time being a tease. Eijirō just tries to focus on his lei, because if he focuses on anything else, his mind drifts to you, and suddenly, the flower in his palm is missing a few petals. After that, staying true to Katsuki’s itinerary, is a dinner and a luau.

“Eiji—come take a picture of me!”

They’re getting ready for dinner, and per usual, Katsuki is the last one ready. You’ve had enough time to find and pick a hibiscus flower to tuck behind your ear, matching the same shade as your strapless wrap dress. It’s not as tight as last night’s—thank God—but just as revealing, especially when you bend over like that, holy fuck—

“Sorry, had to fix my shoe.” You stand, brushing off the bottom of your dress in two firm strokes. “Ready?”

Eijirō has a vice grip on your phone as you walk towards the balcony. Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard—

Now, the sun is setting, fingers of orange and pink receding past the horizon. The sun is setting, but it’s still hot enough to give you that faint sheen, sweat or sparkle, as you lift a leg and pose. Your eyes glint in a way that’s nothing short of teasing—and while Eijirō assumes it’s for the camera, it damn sure feels like it’s for him.

You go through a few poses, all against the balcony railing. Eijirō’s knees hurt from trying to get the perfect angle, and when he hands back the phone, you smile. His mantra remains loud and true:

Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard—

“Wow, you take pictures so much better than Kats,” you amaze while scrolling through the images. Something akin to pride swells in his chest. Something also swells in his crotch.

Which is, like, totally not okay—drooling over the fact that he’s better than Katsuki at something. To you. When you’ve been the one dating Katsuki for the past two years, when it’s very clear you love him. But, Eijirō is stupid, and his brain is fried from severe blood loss over the past twenty-four hours.

“Thank you,” he smiles, and watches you swipe through pictures over your shoulder, pointing at one. “That one’s my favorite.”

It’s somewhat candid, of you in the middle of turning around to watch the sinking sun. The look on your face is nothing short of blissful—relaxed, at peace—and despite the looseness of the dress, your ass pokes out in something teasing, tantalizing, something—

Eijirō Kirishima needs to chill the fuck out. He knows this.

But, it’s hard. Hard when you drag your nails down his stomach in passing and say good job, hard when Katsuki grumbles at both of you to move it because they’re going to be late (like it’s not his fault), hard when he’s sat at a long table on the beach with strangers and dancers flanking both sides.

Eijirō is hard.

Fuck.

“Get your fuckin’ hand off my knee,” Katsuki grunts at you. You’re sitting between them, which is both the best and worst place to be—best, because Eijirō gets to be close to you. Worst, because Eijirō gets to be close to you.

And, he’s not the only one hanging by a thread—Katsuki has been pissy all day. He’s been mean and angry and a live wire just waiting for something flammable. (More than he already is.) And you, you’re starting to regret the grave you dug yourself, Eijirō thinks, because you wanted to fuck after snorkeling, wanting to fuck after lei making, but Katsuki keeps saying tonight.

“No,” you whine, and paw at Katsuki’s thigh in a way that you know will annoy him. “I wanna touch you.”

Your hand is also on Eijirō’s knee, but he’s not strong enough to move it. Just weak, and sitting in said weakness, feeling your drifting touch burn a hole in his skin. It’s a lot, honestly.

Katsuki grumbles, but doesn’t say much more, instead bouncing his other leg with an impatience that makes it seem like he doesn’t even want to be at the dinner in the first place.

Loud drums batter, accompanied by the patter of feet on sand and the swish of skirts. All of it falls into one noise, something steady and white, as your thumbs start rubbing circles on the inside of Eijirō’s knee. As it starts rubbing circles higher than Eijirō’s knee.

“What are you doing,” he asks. The food can’t come fast enough. The sun can’t fall fast enough.

“Nothing,” you say, in that tone that definitely means you're doing something. A lilt. Eijirō exhales sharp through his nose.

“Y/N…” he says warily and debates taking his leg away, knocking your hand off, anything. A stronger man might, but not Eijirō. Not today.

“What?” You pout in offense. Eijirō eyes the people next to him, then across, in hopes you get the message. You don’t.

Or, you do, but really don’t care.

“Baby, seriously.”

Eijirō looks at Katsuki’s lap to notice he’s not going through this alone. If anything, Katsuki has it worse, as you squeeze and pull at his thighs under his shorts, with no care for who might see or what they might say. There’s a sick sense of camaraderie that comes with the sight. At least he isn’t suffering alone.

“Oh, have I been banned from touching you guys, too?” You huff, a little bitter, a little like the thought is an impossibility. Where the hell is the food?

“At this point, yes,” Katsuki growls. He picks your hand off his lap and pins it to the table. The second he lets go, your hand falls back to where it belongs. His inner thigh.

Eijirō is tearing up the inside of his cheek. Soon, you’ve moved further up on his thigh too, drawing absentminded shapes that induce shivers. He whines.

“What if we…like…skip dinner.”

“We’re not skippin’ this shit, ‘m hungry,” Katsuki grumbles while crossing arms over his chest. Eijirō groans, but his stomach rumbles in agreement.

“Fuck.”

“So, I can keep touching y—”

“No.”

Both Katsuki and Eijirō take your hands and place them on the table. You giggle, but relent. The food doesn’t arrive too long after.

s.geto

Nvm.

cyberch!ck69

just TALK TO THEM

s.geto

Absolutely not.

s.geto

I need a five step plan, preferably one that doesn’t include me sitting them down and baring my soul.

cyberch!ck69

i give the fuck up

When they get back to the room, Katsuki slams you against the wall. Hard.

“Y’thought that shit was funny, huh,” he says in a low voice typically reserved for the bedroom—Eijirō knows, he’s heard it—and you bite back a smile and fail, wrists pinned to the wall above your head.

“A little, yeah,” you breathe, and Katsuki starts working his way down your neck. “You were the one who said ‘tonight.’”

“And you were the one who said no yesterday,” Katsuki huffs. He picks you up by your hips, tosses you onto the bed and, without a second thought, points and says, “Eijirō.”

Eijirō scrambles on top of you like there’s no tomorrow.

He presses you into the bed and kisses you heavy. Eijirō doesn’t even care about being polite at this point—he knows he’s allowed, you’re allowed, and takes what he needs because he can.

Your hands run up his sides to tangle in red hair, tugging, giggling when he whimpers, then tugging again. Everything fits so easy, like you were meant to be under him in the first place, made specifically to be slotted between his body and the bed.

So, maybe Eijirō’s treating you with all the impatience of an overzealous puppy, sue him.

Katsuki sits in the hotel’s standard cuck chair, slowly palming himself over fabric to relieve some pressure. Eijirō catches him out the corner of his eye, suppressing a grin when Katsuki lifts an eyebrow as if to say, what?

With a strong grip on your chin, Eijirō forcefully redirects your gaze to your boyfriend, the one impatiently writhing in the chair with a hand over his pants. Eijirō’s lips make their way down your neck, skating over a small hickey easily disguised as a bug bite that he knows wasn’t there last night—which makes him wonder what happened in those seven minutes you two disappeared during snorkeling.

(To say you came out of that grotto disheveled was an understatement.)

“God,” Eijirō breathes, mostly to himself, as his hand slides down and beneath your waist, arching your back just a little, just enough to be provocative. You get impatient when he doesn’t move fast enough, with lips still hovering by your collarbones and dress still on, and you yank his hair in admonishment.

“Hurry up,” you huff, and though it’s quiet, it rings in the vaguely silent room like a cry for help. Eijirō’s lips spread in a grin along your clavicle.

“What if I wanna take my time with you, though?” He pouts, and moves lower, but not by much. Just enough to give you false hope. His fingers play with the hem of your dress, lightly squeezing and tugging but never removing. Again, just enough to give you false hope.

You whimper, hips rolling into his stomach as you try to find some sort of friction. Eijirō tuts and pushes your knees down, one by one. He’s not gonna lie—a few more thrusts, and he might snap. With a deep inhale and exhale, determined to take his time because he doesn’t know when he’ll get this chance again, he starts moving down your body a little faster. A little.

He still has to get you back for teasing him all day.

When his hand finally dips under your dress, you sigh in satisfaction. Your arms wrap around his neck, nails scratching short hairs at his nape and sending light shivers down his spine. Eijirō’s eyes flutter shut as he mouths over a clothed breast, relishing the way your breath hitches underneath his lips.

“Respectfully, Shitty Hair, hurry the fuck up,” Katsuki grunts from the corner. Eijirō looks at him—there’s a flush running past the collar of his shirt, lips glossy with spit and chest heaving with impatience. Eijirō feels the balance of control shift, and grabs hold.

“Respectfully, Kat, I think I’m gonna take my time,” he smiles, and while the verb phrase I think gives room for argument, Eijirō hardens his voice until he’s sure Katsuki knows that isn’t the case. I think is a placation.

Katsuki snarls, but sinks deeper in his chair.

Eijirō unwraps your dress—unwraps his present, like it’s his birthday, his anniversary—and kisses down the valley of your chest. Both hands lift to cradle your breasts, shaking them on either side of his face and chuckling when you whimper. He thumbs over one nipple, obsessing over the way your body jolts, and takes another deep inhale like he can smell your arousal from here.

Eijirō takes your nipple into his mouth, next.

You choke out a moan, body strung tight from denying yourself the thing you want most, and your hips struggle to kick under the weight of Eijirō’s body, but they do try. He groans, hugging your waist to keep you from jolting, and sucks.

“Ah—fuck—”

You gasp when his teeth skirt your areola, light enough to soothe but tight enough to graze. Katsuki groans in his peripheral.

“Yeah? Feel good, Baby?” Katsuki pants past a clinch in his throat. You nod and whimper, eyes screwing shut, and he coos. “Yeah. Looks like it.”

You whine and tug at Eijirō’s head again. Not necessarily to instill pain, but to, “Move. Move, Eiji.”

Eijirō’s lips leave your breast with a pop, as he gazes at you with lidded eyes and a lazy smile. He’s exactly where he wants to be.

“Move where?”

You let out a strangled groan, something made of pure annoyance, as you try to push his head down. Eijirō doesn’t budge.

“You know where,” you huff, wiggling to work your knees out from under his body, to frame him and thrust up. ”My pussy, Eijirō—please, I swear to God—”

And, since you asked so nicely—

Eijirō keeps playing dumb, but runs a hand to cup between your legs. You're wet to the touch, through the panties, and he takes his third deep inhale of the night in an attempt to ground himself. It doesn’t work.

Eijirō is unwell.

He feels your pussy twitch under his palm, and he feels dizzy. The room spins, sways, does all the things a room is definitely not supposed to do—like the world kept spinning, but Eijirō stopped moving within it—and he drops his head to your shoulder in hopes it’ll stop. Holy shit, this is actually happening.

“Y’good there, Red?” Katsuki snorts, and honestly, Eijirō shakes his head.

He keeps playing with your pussy, though. A fucking war couldn’t stop that.

Eijirō sits up so his voice isn’t muted by your skin, so he doesn’t have to repeat himself twice. “I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“Oh no,” your face turns from ecstasy into worry in a second, and your hands let go of his hair to cup the softer angles of his face. Eijirō melts into the hold. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

He shakes his head, pinches your clit. Your body shudders. “No, no. I’m good.”

Eijirō takes another deep breath. His head still spins, but in a good way—a way he can lean into. So, he does, and rips your panties off in the process.

“My—hey!” You pout as Eijirō throws the useless cloth over his shoulders, forgetting about them the instant they leave his palm. He can’t look at your pussy yet, needing a breather and taking it, exhaling with his eyes closed.

“Someone’s impatient,” Katsuki grunts under his breath. Eijirō huffs a weak laugh. Opens his eyes. God, your pussy is pretty.

“You literally just told me to hurry up.”

“And?” Katsuki huffs. Eijirō hears the clink of a belt, the shifting of cloth. He looks up to see Katsuki working his jeans down to his thighs. 

“And nothing, Dude,” Eijirō smiles. Then, he touches you.

“Fuck,” he whines, melting on his knees as you whimper beneath him. It’s something simple—just running a finger through your folds, testing the waters—and you feel better than he ever imagined. On his fingers. He starts to get dizzy, again.

“She feels good, doesn’t she,” Katsuki groans, slightly more breathless than when he last spoke. Eijirō swallows, then nods.

“Yeah, I—” his breath shutters as his train of thought runs into a wall and smashes into a heap of metal. His thumb runs over your clit, lightly, seeing what makes you squirm and what doesn’t, but he’s half-busy reeling in the unbelievability of it all. You, the most unattainable woman he’s ever met, so far out of his league, his best friend’s girlfriend, is here, laid flat and naked in front of him because you want to. What the fuck. What the fuck. He bites back a moan as he watches your eyes flutter, hips slowly picking up their pace as you rock between his hand and the headboard. “How’re you feeling, Pretty?”

The pet name just kind of…slips right out. And, while he probably shouldn’t be calling his best friend’s girlfriend Pretty, he also probably shouldn’t be touching her like this. And Katsuki shouldn’t be sitting in the corner, touching his dick, like this is all perfectly normal.

Eijirō dips a finger inside you.

You flex and flutter around him, clenched, enough to make him wonder how he’s supposed to fit in the first place. It feels like you’ve cut off his circulation, but…to his head. Somehow, he’s getting no blood to his brain—maybe, because it’s all going to his dick—and Eijirō whimpers as he starts pumping a finger, only for you to grip tighter on his way out.

“Oh my God,” he drops his head, eyes fluttering closed as he realizes, “I’m not gonna survive this.”

“Chill out, Shitty Hair; you’ve only got one finger in her,” Katsuki snorts, enjoying the visual of Eijirō losing his mind when he hasn’t even done anything yet. “Just wait ‘til you make her scream.”

Yeah. Eijirō might need to speed things up a bit.

He inserts a second finger right next to the first, and groans. It’s tight. No wonder he could hear Katsuki’s moans through the walls.

Speaking of moans: you’ve been letting out quiet whimpers the whole time, body writhing and breath hitching all cute. But, Eijirō crooks his fingers, and then—fireworks.

Your eyes rocket open, round and wide, and your stomach flexes. You release a moan that’s punched straight from your gut, loud and wanton and exactly what Eijirō has heard through plaster. Your body squeezes and shudders as he focuses on opening you up instead of pleasure, because if he focuses on pleasure, he’ll—

“Rub her clit,” Katsuki huffs. Eijirō looks over to find him pumping himself with a slow and steady pace, dick exposed and looking just like Eijirō remembers from the shower. The urge to lick it remains strong. When he moves to pull his fingers away, Katsuki tuts. “At the same time, Dumbass. What, can’t multitask?”

Honestly, in this situation, Eijirō isn’t really sure.

He keeps his mouth shut, though—whatever embarrassing ramble that sat on his tongue is swallowed—and does as he’s told. The hand resting on your waist drops to your clit, and you squeal.

“There she goes,” Katsuki mutters, with all the predatory satisfaction of an animal at the top of its food chain. You splutter and kick a leg on reflex, and Eijirō sort of has to fight to keep his hands from slipping.

“Eiji,” you scramble for his shirt, holding on tight and keeping him close, “I need you to fuck me—like, yesterday.”

“Then you should’a had him fuck you yesterday,” Katsuki huffs, and Eijirō isn’t sure if he’d be a really good or really bad porn director in another life. Maybe both. “Put in a third finger.”

Eijirō does, and your eyes roll.

“Fuck,” you whimper, and your grip tightens. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Stop touchin’ her.”

Eijirō removes his fingers.

You groan, slamming a heel into the mattress in frustration, and glare at your boyfriend across the room. “Kats—I hate you.”

You’re too out of breath for your words to have any fire in them, so Katsuki just smiles, slow and languid as he rests a chin on his hand. “What’s wrong, Princess? About to cum?”

“You know I was,” you huff, glaring at the ceiling. And Eijirō is too busy looking at the flexing mess between your legs, because, holy shit, you were about to cum, like, all over his fingers—

Eijirō needs to see that. He needs to see that, like, now.

“That’s too damn bad,” Katsuki snorts, then his eyes cut to his roommate. “Keep touchin’ her.”

Eijirō does so, and with a renewed vigor.

He stuffs three fingers back in so quick you yelp in surprise, body curling into his as he works you open. The little sounds you make are heavenly, breathy and whiny and everything he’s dreamt of and more. Eijirō notices when you get close to the edge, this time—the way your eyes flutter, and you squeeze around him like you don’t want to let go.

“Stop.”

You whine again, and this time, Eijirō whines along with you. He wants to feel it, so, so bad.

After a few moments of panting, you lick your lips, “Kats, I—”

“Doesn’t feel too good, does it,” Katsuki grunts, but he’s still smiling just as wide as before. At least someone is having fun. Eijirō, meanwhile, is a hot mess, because all he wants is to feel what he’s heard (and seen) for ages. And, his dick hurts.

You groan, fists squeezing into cute little fists on your forehead. “Why do you have to be an ass?”

“Me?” Katsuki scoffs. “I’m just givin’ you a taste of your own medicine, Sweetheart. Eijirō, you can move.”

It takes you longer to reach the edge than the second time. Maybe, you’re holding back—or, maybe you know it won’t be allowed—but Eijirō’s arm is working overtime until it cramps. He’s sweating now, the shorter hairs sticking to his face in funny designs, but Eijirō Kirishima is nothing if a quitter. He feels it again—the tightness—and looks to Katsuki, who says nothing. Maybe, this time, he’ll let it slide. This time, Eijirō gets to see it, feel it, taste it—

“Stop.”

Eijirō groans louder than you do, and drops his head to your shoulder.

“Kat, let her cum,” Eijirō practically begs, eyebrows bowing and lips quivering against your neck. You feel it, and your breath hitches.

“What?” Katsuki acts like he can’t hear him, but Eijirō knows he does.

“Let her cum,” he huffs after lifting his head off your sticky shoulder, looking at Katsuki with the most pleading face—the most pathetic face—he can muster. “Please.”

Katsuki scoffs, eyes narrowing at Eijirō like there’s something to study. There’s not; the answer is obvious—he’s sitting in between the legs of a pretty girl, unable to give her what she wants, eyes wild and chest heaving like he’s had any friction at all.

“Why?”

“I wanna feel it,” Eijirō says, quick enough to be embarrassed about it later.

Katsuki clicks his tongue.

“Fine.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Eijrō sighs, hands officially moving with an end goal in sight. It would be cruel of Katsuki to deny both of you again, but Eijirō knows he’s not going to—the hand on his dick is moving faster, now. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

Eijirō wonders how many times he can make you cum. He wonders what you’ll look like after the first, second, third—how much your body might quiver, what you could sound like without a wall in place. All it does is fuel the fire in his belly, running straight into his muscles until his hand moves at a numbing pace. As your voice pitches, so does the pace of your breathing.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

“Cum for us, Baby. Cum for Ei, make a mess all over his fuckin’ fingers.”

Eijirō doesn’t even blink.

He just watches as you unravel, starting at your edges and ending in your middle, as your body arches and hips flick. Your pussy squeezes around his fingers tighter than he thought was possible, and your face—God, your face—contorts in ecstasy because of what he did, his fingers. Eijirō can confirm that it's better up close. So much better.

He kisses you before you can come down, out of pure impulse and want. You moan into his mouth, hands lifting to quiver by his cheeks, an attempt to hold them, and it’s just so cute.

Eijirō’s fucked. Though he knew it before, he definitely knows now. He’s not going to be able to exist without this, anymore.

Note: Never make Katsuki mad, like, sexually.

Because, when Katsuki can’t cum, nobody’s fucking cumming.

“Kat, Dude, please, c’mon,” Eijirō wheezes into your neck, but he doesn’t really care whether Katsuki can hear him. Katsuki will do what Katsuki wants—it’s like whining to the weather.

Your pussy is squeezing the life out of his cock. You’re on your fourth orgasm, and Eijirō is on none, even though he didn’t do shit. This is a type of torture he’s woefully unfamiliar with, like he’s getting punished for being attracted to you in the first place. He didn’t do shit.

Katsuki has moved from the chair to the bed, cock still in hand. Eijirō can’t even be cheesy about it, can’t even look to the right and ask, need a hand, because he’s gripping the sheets for dear life, like they might take pity on him. But, sheets don’t bargain, and if they did, they’d write a contract for him to get the hell off.

Katsuki coos, both at Eijirō’s strung-up state and your fucked out one. You’ve got no fight left in you, instead uselessly whimpering and clawing at his back like he can save you. Spoiler alert: he cannot.

Katsuki thumbs at the high points of Eijirō’s cheeks, “Awh, y’want it that bad? You’re cryin’, Red.”

Eijirō sniffles. Yes, he knows he’s crying—despite the heat in his face, he can feel it.

“Yes,” Eijirō hisses between grit teeth, “I’m literally dying, please—”

Katsuki chuckles something dark, grabbing Eijirō by his cheeks and forcing him to look up—and suddenly, he's drowning in carmine eyes. Is Katsuki closer? It feels like he got closer.

“Hold out a little longer,” the blond says, in a voice softer than the bed you lay on, and Eijirō really isn’t sure what to make of it. He’s close enough that Eijirō can almost feel the tongue licking his lips, feel his breath as he says, “Y’gotta make her cum two more times, at least.”

At least? Eijirō’s going to die. Eijirō’s going to die from an arrhythmic heart and overexertion, and it’s going to be Katsuki’s fault.

(But, hey—he’s dying in Hawaii, with you below him, so how much can he really complain?)

Eijirō wheezes out a light and pathetic ‘ah’ in place of what was supposed to be a curse, but he really doesn't care anymore. Not when you blink up at him with watery eyes and palm at his chest, all weak like he did that.

“Eiji…” you whimper, exhausted and sweating into the bed. “Jus’ one more. Please.”

Eijirō’s hips stutter, but they don’t stop.

“Fuck,” he gasps, hands turning into fists in the sheets. He’s not allowed to touch you, not allowed to make this go faster—but God, does he want to. “Fucking fuck—this is so unfair.”

“She’s insatiable, ain’t she,” Katsuki says, letting go of Eijirō’s face to cradle yours, to thumb over your cheeks all soft while he plows into you with every fiber of your being. “’S one of my favorite things about her.”

You whine but don’t do much else, bottom lip sliding from behind your teeth to make room for the sound. As your pussy convulses around his cock, you gasp, soft fingers sharpening into nails to dig into the fat of his back and leave raised red lines in their wake. Eijirō’s going to look wrecked on the beach tomorrow, and that thought is just—

“One more,” he pants, hips dragging impossibly fast. “One more, right, Kat?”

Katsuki grunts with a nod. The hand on his cock starts moving with purpose, now. “One more.”

Eijirō wants to touch it.

He wants to touch Katsuki again so, so bad, but he can’t, not with his hands full with you—not when he can’t cum yet. The ball of arousal is already wound tight in his stomach; one wrong tug, and it will unravel.

“I can’t—” Eijirō wheezes, voice breaking as he falls forward, catching himself with a hand beside your head. The other hand is busy holding your hips up, because you can no longer do it for yourself. “I can’t—”

The room is filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, pants heavy and hot enough to fog a warm glass, predatory groans and whiny whimpers. Eijirō keeps making sounds he’d rather not, but he’s too far gone to even register them. Katsuki’s saying something—his mouth is moving—but all he hears is the rush behind his ears.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Eijiro whimpers, in slight disappointment, but it was inevitable. He feels that tingle in his fingers that lets him know to pull out, and—

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

Katsuki’s voice snarls into focus, grabbing Eijirō by his hair and tugging so hard his back bends.

“I can’t, I’m not gonna—”

“You can, and you will,” Katsuki says with a finality that leaves Eijirō no other choice. And he’ll be damned if he loses this opportunity—he wants to fuck you again, and again, and again, until you’re properly satiated and leaking out of every hole you have. Eijirō whines through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, and another tear rolls down his cheek. Katsuki licks it up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t d—”

But then, you’re squeezing around him with shaky legs, and Eijirō’s shoulders sink in relief. One more second, and he would’ve—

“Oh, fuck!”

Eijirō cums so hard his vision blacks out—whether it's from closed eyes or pure blindness, he doesn’t know—and his hands scramble for something, anything to hold onto. One hand ends on your hip and the other on Katsuki’s thigh, digging bruises in his thumbprint as veins pop in his neck and he floods your system.

Eijirō pumps his hips a few more times, slow but sure. He’s sure he’s making noise—groans, whimpers, whines—but he can’t hear much except for the throb of his heart and Katsuki’s own orgasm, feeling something lukewarm splatter against the fingers still resting on his thigh. Eijirō breathes himself back into his body, through his nose and out his mouth, and finally, pulls out.

His dick jumps, and squirts twice like it’s got more in it. Eijirō can confidently confirm that it does not.

He collapses right on top of your body.

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right,” you swallow, voice raspy and crackling on the edges. Katsuki collapses next to him.

“That was fuckin‘ good.”

You three blink at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. Eventually, you squirm under the redhead, so he rolls onto your other side.

“I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow,” you decide aloud, shaking your head. Your eyes are still closed—and you’re still coming down, body twitching every few seconds in places Eijirō didn’t even know you could. “You two are carrying me everywhere.”

“That can be arranged,” Eijirō huffs, still out of breath. Weakly, he reaches across you and taps his roommate. “…When I can walk. So, Kat, you got that.”

Katsuki groans, somehow also exhausted, like he did any of the work. “Fuck you.”

“No,” Eijirō shakes his head, neck still weak and loose from being tense for so long. “You made us fuck for hours. ‘S your punishment.”

Katsuki grumbles under his breath but doesn’t outright lament. Eijirō gives you a slippery smile, and lifts a fist. You meet it with your own.

A few more seconds of catching breaths, of opening pores for cool air and listening to the steady rock of the ceiling fan, and then:

“Hey, Eiji. Wanna be our boyfriend?”

Katsuki shoots up. Suddenly, he has energy.

“We’re not fuckin’ askin’ him like that!”

You don’t really have the energy to argue, so you raise a placating hand and push it into his face.

“How’re we s’posed to ask ‘im, then?”

You slur your words, and Eijirō doesn’t blame you. Tomorrow, he’ll panic about the new information—probably cry a little—but it’s the middle of the night, and he’s already half asleep from exhaustion.

“Fuckin’ properly, the fuck do you mean?”

Katsuki seems really stressed about this, Eijirō thinks distantly. He should probably answer before he knocks out, slowly sinking into a post-orgasm haze he’s not necessarily trying to escape anytime soon.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair—you’re not accepting it until we do it right. When we get back.”

Eijirō snorts weakly. “Okay.”

That night, everyone falls asleep with bone-deep satisfaction. The next morning, Eijirō does cry a little—but he promised Katsuki he won’t accept until you two do ask him properly, whatever that means. That doesn’t mean he’s not dying about it, a little.

This is going to take some getting used to.

© mamashima/pumaya. do not edit, translate or copy my work without my permission. do not use for ai. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

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suckmyclituchiha

dude, no. NTA as long as you keep it in your pants.

notthatkentakakura

Mmm a little? I feel like you shouldn’t have a crush on your best friends girlfriend…

gogogokudolls

NTA. I fear we’ve all been there, my guy

6ixeyes

How gay are you for your bro????

Eijirō’s moving out. That’s the only logical course of events.

“Katsuki—! Oh my God—”

Eijirō groans, sinking a head into his hands. He threads fingers through his bright red hair and tugs. He’s going insane—he’s going to be in a straight jacket in two years if he doesn’t leave right now, this isn’t even fair, this is—

“Oh fuck, right there, right there, right there—”

What is the fucking point of walls. What is the fucking point, when it sounds like you’re right here.

Maybe, you guys don’t realize he’s home. Which is fair—by the time he got back, you two were already hidden away in Katsuki’s room. He should send a text, or knock on the door to be like hey, shut up please, or at least, put headphones in. But, no—instead, he chooses to torture himself, listening to you whine on his best friend’s cock.

“Yeah, Baby? You like that?”

The headboard slams hard enough to rattle the wall, and Eijirō debates on crying. He wants to see. He wants to see so bad that it hurts.

He suffers that night, just like he does all the others. Reddit doesn’t help, and neither does the throbbing between his thighs.

Eijirō likes to make breakfast. It’s the only meal he can make, really, other than chicken and rice. And broccoli—he can make broccoli. But, since you moved in, he likes making breakfast for a different reason.

“G’mornin’, Eiji.”

You come in yawning, bleary eyed and bra-less, just the way he likes. He doesn’t let his eyes drift the expanse of your thighs for too long—just enough to remember until tomorrow morning. Until he sees you in those shorts, again.

“Hey! How’d you sleep?”

Because, he slept horribly. He fell asleep halfway through the sex marathon, and doesn’t know if he had a wet dream, or heard you past the fuzz of slumber. Either way, he fell asleep at two and woke up at six, wholly unrested.

“Mm…good…” You stumble over to the fancy coffee machine he bought for Katsuki’s birthday last year. You maneuver around the kitchen with half a mind, and Eijirō tries to avoid burning breakfast. God forbid Katsuki wakes up to the smoke alarm in a panic, worried the world is on fire. You open the fridge to get water, nearly hitting yourself upside the head with the door, and Eijirō snorts, catching your forehead from his spot by the island.

You sniff, blearily blinking up with a nod as a thank you. “What’cha making?”

“Pancakes,” he grins, gesturing to the freshly poured griddle. “Try not to concuss yourself before then?”

“No promises,” you mumble past a sleepy smile, and its cute enough to make his heart hurt. He returns it, hoping it comes across less endearing than he feels. You shuffle closer to watch pancake batter bubble under the heat. “Ugh, pancakes are gonna hit. Thank you.”

You let out a moan, one that sounds a little too similar to what he heard through the walls last night. He focuses on flipping the pancakes with an unsteady hand, refusing to feel the edges of your molecules when you get too close.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he preaches with a laugh, and you nod vehemently in agreement. The coffee machine starts to whirr.

“Yeah, ‘n if not for you, I’d be having straight coffee for breakfast.”

“That’s…horrible,” he realizes aloud, and you snort in response, collapsing your face into his arm. His arm, which is, now, nearly pinned between your breasts—and Eijirō wants to cry for the twentieth time this week. “You should definitely not do that.”

“But, I don’t even like breakfast,” you whine, jutting out a bottom lip. Eijirō takes a very deep breath, before flipping the last pancake. He fucks it up, and the battered side folds in half.

Then, he remembers what you just said, and frowns. “You eat it, though—I’ve seen you.”

“I eat your breakfast,” you argue sleepily, and the coffee machine beeps for attention. You leave to grab the full cup, leaving his right side much colder than you found it. “You cook good breakfast.”

Eijirō isn’t fully sure what you mean by that, but beams nonetheless. “Thank y—”

Katsuki stretches in the kitchen doorway. Languid like a cat, with arms above his head, and groaning loud enough to startle. He’s shirtless, and Eijirō does not see the purpling hickey on his neck. Does not.

Katsuki waltzes over to you and drapes himself across your shoulders, eyes swollen and voice rugged from sleep. He steals a kiss from your cheek before asking, “Coffee.”

You hum, lifting the mug closer to his collapsed self. “Want some?”

Katsuki scrunches a nose and shakes his head, only for his face to end up in your neck. “Not from you.”

That earns him a gasp and a flick in the forehead, both of which Katsuki takes in stride. He snickers into your skin, biting behind your ear until you yelp, with a hand tight around your hip to ensure you don’t squirm to far.

And, it’s sickening.

It’s sickening, because these are the moments when Eijirō doesn’t quite know who he wishes to be—you, or his best friend. Katsuki mutes a smile in your skin, and Eijirō wants to feel it, but he also wants his hand on your hip, and he wants, he wants—

“Oi, Shitty Hair—the pancakes are on fire.”

Eijirō looks down at charred circles he once called pancakes. He wants to cry.

With a snort, Katsuki moves past you to grab a plate. Then, he’s nudging Eijirō in the shoulder, and the redhead starts plating the useless ones with a pout.

“I can’t believe I messed up the first batch,” he whines, because now they’ll have half the amount they normally would for leftovers. And, he was sort of hoping to not cook breakfast tomorrow. (Though, he’s not as sad about it as he’d like to be—which makes him even more annoyed with himself, in turn.)

Katsuki just rolls his eyes, setting the burnt plate aside, probably to let it cool before throwing it away. “What the fuck was so fascinating outside?”

Eijirō’s eyes flicker to the window he was allegedly looking out of—he doesn’t really remember, to be honest—and irritation floods his being tenfold as he huffs, “Dude, literally nothing. Literally zoned out.”

Which is a half-lie—he did zone out—and luckily, Katsuki’s back is turned to grab the bowl of batter, so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Eijirō can lie, as long as he isn’t looking Katsuki in the eyes.

But, Katsuki turns around with a knowing smirk, like he does know it’s a lie. That makes Eijirō doubt his lying capabilities.

“Uh-huh,” he hums, and starts pouring pancakes in perfect circles while barely looking. Which, Eijirō thinks is wholly unfair—he has to really lock in, and even then, they come out vaguely dinosaur shaped. Don’t ask him why. He doesn’t know.

“Ooh! I want a heart pancake!”

Katsuki eyes finally leave Eijirō—thank God, he can breathe now—to narrow at you. “…Baby. I just poured the last one.”

But, Katsuki knows you’re not going to let up, as does Eijirō. You have that look in your eyes when you want something, and want it now.

Before you can even open your mouth, Katsuki’s warning, “Wait for the next batch.”

You whine and melt, propping your chin onto the island counter with the biggest pout known to man. The most effective pout, because Eijirō would fold for it time and time again, if he had the chance.

“But, I want it now,” you whimper, and while Katsuki sighs out of his nose, Eijirō has an idea.

He walks over to a small cupboard, the one with the straws and syrup cups, and dips a hand between both for a container of toothpicks. Thanks to Katsuki, they always have some on deck—because, every time they go out to eat, Katsuki is convinced he has something in his teeth, and simultaneously convinced that everyone is lying to him, including his phone camera. So, Eijirō sacrifices one of Katsuki’s holy toothpicks to bend a bubbling pancake into a heart. It only kind of works.

“Fuckin—no, Shitty Hair, y’gotta start from the middle an’ go down—”

“No! Start with the edges first! If he takes too long, my heart is gonna have a round bottom!”

“…Y’know who else has a round bottom—”

“Finish that statement and you’re fired, Katsuki. This is serious business.”

Eijirō Kirishima cannot function under this conditions.

“Guys,” he chokes, looking down at what is now a squiggly mess of pancake. It looks nothing like a heart, but definitely an accurate depiction of how Eijirō’s heart feels—squishy and out of shape and useless. Like an amoeba. Or a blobfish.

Yeah. His heart feels like a blobfish.

“I give up.”

He releases the cake-covered toothpick, and it sticks to the counter in a quietly depressing splat. Katsuki huffs, shoving him out of the way to snatch the toothpick and try himself. And, try he does.

But, the issue is that the pancakes are cooking quick—the others have already been flipped and now, they’re almost ready. Meanwhile, the flailing heart shaped pancake is burnt around the edges and gooey in the middle, but they’re still committed.

Eventually, the three of you look at the burnt ball of dough with a sigh.

“We tried. On that front, we get an A, right?”

“If you look at it from the side and squint your eyes…it, like…kind of looks like an actual heart, so I say yeah.”

“…It looks like shit.”

You all prepare to eat the successful pancakes in a dejected silence. You end up cutting a heart out of your pancake instead. Eijirō eats the corners.

6ixeyes

How gay are you for your bro????

redredriot

um. probably gayer than i should b.

6ixeyes

Wait, srsly

Beach is bad. Beach is horrible—Eijirō will never beach again.

‘Guys, I wanna go to the beach,’ you said. ‘It’s so hot today, it’ll be fun,’ you said. ‘Eijirō’s going to be so miserable, and have to fight a hard-on the entire time,’ you didn’t say. He should’ve seen it coming.

Because, if he can barely handle you in pajamas, how the hell is he supposed to be chill while you practically prance around the sand in a bra and panties. He’s going to cry.

And, Katsuki—Katsuki isn’t helping one bit.

“God, fuckin’ look at her,” he groans, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose. You’re in the water alone, because Katsuki refuses to (’I’m not gettin’ fuckin’ wet just to have fuck-ass sand stick to me—no.’) and honestly, Eijirō would join you if he wasn’t suffering. “Ain’t she a pretty li’l thing.”

And like, what is Eijirō supposed to say to that? What is the socially correct thing to say when your bro is frothing over his girl. Do you agree, and possibly look like you want to fuck her, or do you not agree, and by proxy, call his girlfriend ugly?

Eijirō decides not responding is the safest option. He focuses on the self-help book in his lap, but he’s can’t read right now. The words rearrange into something accusatory, and it’s undeniable:

YOU ARE THE ASSHOLE.

Fuck.

“Don’t know how I bagged that,” Katsuki mutters to himself, before reclining underneath the umbrella. Because he burns too easy, and the sun makes him sleepy, and—why does Eijirō know this? He doesn’t need to know this.

“Awh, c’mon dude,” he shoves Katsuki in the shoulder from his seated spot in the sun. His words come out stilted and awkward, because how do you let your bro know he’s a catch without letting him know you’d probably be down to suck his dick. “You’re, like…hot. You guys are the same level of hotness.”

Katsuki snorts, and rolls his head until it’s facing Eijirō. He cracks an eye open. “D’you think I’m hot?”

Eijirō chokes on air. What kind of question is that.

“I mean,” he blows a raspberry and shrugs, and suddenly, can’t look at his roommate. He watches the horizon until you shift into frame, and then, he switches to the sky. “Yeah, of course, Dude. You’re, like, an objectively hot guy.”

“Objectively,” Katsuki repeats, and Eijirō’s eyes dart to the side just in time to see that quiet smirk from earlier return, from breakfast when Eijirō lied before, and he’s starting to worry Katsuki might be onto him. Which is not good. Not good at all.

“Yep, mhm.” His eyes squint into the sun, in hopes it’ll burn his retinas and give him some form of brain-fried amnesia. That would be great. When it doesn’t work, Eijirō finds himself rummaging through the snack bag instead, hoping that stuffing his mouth shut might keep him from saying anything stupid.

“Oi,” Katsuki perks up. “I want fuckin’ grapes.”

Eijirō laughs, nearly collapsing his face into the snack bag when the arm he rests weight on starts to wobble. “Lucky for you, we brought ‘fuckin’ grapes.’”

“I know, that’s why I said it, Dumbass,” Katsuki faux-bristles. “Feed ‘em to me.”

Eijirō swallows.

“Uh, no Dude, feed them to yourself,” he snorts (and very proud of how he played it off, thank you) and grabs a protein bar out of the bag, along with a Ziploc bag of grapes with a melting ice pack in it. He drops them at Katsuki’s side, but Katsuki knocks them over like a petulant cat.

“My hands are sandy,” he says like it’s obvious, and lifts them up. Respectfully, they are not sandy—but ‘sandy’ to Katsuki means that his hands can feel the ‘sand dust,’ or whatever he said, and Katsuki is stubborn. Eijirō knows he won’t have his grapes untainted.

“Then get Y/N to do it,” he grunts, teeth preoccupied with tearing the label away from his protein bar. “She’ll be out soon, I think.”

“No,” Katsuki groans, loud and useless, and grabs the bag of grapes at his side to chuck them at Eijirō’s head. And, chuck them he does—it gets Eijirō in the side of his face, and the flaxen blond snorts at the sound. “Her hands‘re gonna be all sandy and salty. You do it.”

Eijirō scratches his scalp and sighs.

Eijirō Kirishima, at twenty-six years old, is being forced to feed his Bro grapes on the beach like Katsuki is Cleopatra, while you frolic in the water, half-naked and mouth-watering. What series of events led him here, exactly?

“Then just, like…eat it out the bag, or something.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow beneath his aviators. “If you don’t, I’m telling Y/N that you think she’s hot.”

Eijirō stiffens.

“Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine—fine,” Eijirō huffs, and feels his face go hot as he scoots closer. Katsuki gives him a self-satisfied smirk, like he enjoys watching his best friend fumble like an oaf. Over him—over you.

This is so not fair.

Katsuki crosses arms behind his head while Eijirō pops the Ziploc open. Eijirō’s not exactly sure how to go about this, but once he picks a firm grape with no strange squishy spots (Katsuki will have a fit), Katsuki’s lips part, and Eijirō just…drops the grape right in there. Katsuki’s jaw pops as he chews with a nod, like the redhead did good in finding a grape he deems decent enough. It makes him feel all warm and gooey, like a chocolate cookie fresh out the oven, and because Eijirō can blame that feeling on the sun, he lets himself bask in it a bit.

It gets quiet, save for the crashing of waves, music from teenagers seated not too far from them, and the occasional pop of a grape. It’s kind of nice—he finds a rhythm, and space in between Katsuki’s chomps and grabbing grapes to nibble on his protein bar, which is gone quick. He must be hungrier than he thought…We should get actual food soon.

Eijirō zones out, thinking about possible food options and how, honestly, he could go for any of them. Then, he feels something round in his hands, and turns to Katsuki, who’s staring at him with a scrutiny that makes Eijirō think he’s got something on his face. He purses his lips, trying to figure out what Katsuki wants for based off expressions—and finds nothing. He finds nothing that he wants to see, and everything he doesn’t—from the sweat forming in Katsuki’s cupids bow, to freckle in his hairline that darkens with the sun, to the curve of his brows and color in his cheeks.

“…What?”

Katsuki blinks himself out of whatever that was, and the lax expression on his face turns into a scowl as he points.

“Grape.”

redredriot

why does that even matter tho

6ixeyes

Ngl, bc I’m going thru somn similar and tryna figure it out LMAO

redredriot

oh damn my condolences bro

For the third time today, Eijirō would like to know how the fuck he got into this predicament.

You come out the water like a…a fucking beach goddess, water clinging to your form like a sheer dress with sand as an jewelry. The sun seems to agree, as it douses you in something ethereal, something just for you.

Eijirō wants to tear his hair out. He’s already suffering because of one set of sweaty tits, he doesn’t need another—

“What are you guys doing?” You snort after getting enough to see Eijirō hover another grape over your boyfriend’s mouth. The redhead pouts.

“I’m being forced into servitude!”

“I see that,” you laugh, and instead of sitting next to Katsuki, you sit next to Eijirō. He tells himself it’s because you need to dry off, and he’s sat in the sun—not that Katsuki minds, seemingly content on consuming grapes from Eijirō’s hand for the foreseeable future. You squish your wet side into Eijirō’s to get a look in the snack bag, and he shivers for all the wrong reasons.

“Ah! You’re cold!”

Plays it off well, though.

“Sorry,” you giggle, but don’t move until you pull out a fruit roll-up, snatching a grape on the way back. “Damn Kat, you ate all the grapes—fat ass bitch.”

Eijirō didn’t even notice, and looks into his lap—where you just had your hand, mind you—to a severely empty bag, now mainly left with undesirables.

“Oh, right, it’s fat ass bitch now, but later it’s ‘oh my god, Kat, your muscles—oh my god, Kat, you’re so big—oh my god—”

Eijirō is going to die.

Katsuki mocks your voice with an unsteady and nasally falsetto, causing you to reach behind Eijirō, balancing a hand on his shoulder while you try to wack your boyfriend in the head. You miss due to range, and because Katsuki sways his head right with a cackle.

“That is not how I sound,” you hiss, resigning yourself to the other side of Eijirō, even though you could easily walk over to give Katsuki a piece of your mind. He shrugs, eyes flitting to Eijirō, and, uh oh, why is he—

“Oh, that’s totally how you sound,” but he’s looking at Eijirō, like he could confirm, and he doesn’t think the blond talking about how you sound outside the bedroom. Fuck. “Right?”

He’s not asking you—he’s asking Eijirō.

And Eijirō, poor Eijirō, quickly looks out to sea like it’ll put a partition between him and this conversation. Maybe, he should try to burn his retinas again. Maybe, he didn’t try hard enough.

He plays dumb.

“Don’t include me in your couple’s quarrel, Dude!” He says, but its more to the sky. “I’m not even here. I’m a ghost. I’m invisible.”

“Well. In that case,” Katsuki grunts. You squeal as your arm gets yanked in Eijirō’s peripheral, falling behind him and into the sand with a thump. “C’mere.”

“Kat—mmph!”

Who knew kissing could be so loud?

If Eijirō lets out a tear, it’s because his fucking dick hurts.

AITA FOR HAVING WANTING TO FUCK MY BEST FRIENDS’ GIRLFRIEND?

u/redredriot

edit: kay my bro is kinda hot but that just makes things SO MUCH WORSE WHAT DO I DO???????

bigdaddytamaki

petition to be a third!

sasakilovesmiyano

Plot-MF-Twist, I’m so invested.

kusuo_saiki

Get a therapist.

redredriot

THATS WHAT YALL ARE FOR

komicommunicatesverywell

Or get a girlfriend!

That night, Eijirō commits a sin.

It’s not his fault—he’s pent up, because you guys are pent up. He had to drive that fucking car, dammit, and had to ignore the fact that he enjoyed watching you and Katsuki makeout in the rearview mirror more than he should.

And, it’s not his fault again, because you and Katsuki decide to fuck in the living room—the living room that his door faces. It’s like you’re trying to kill him, at this point.

So. Maybe, he leaves his door cracked. It’s not like it matters—moonlight spills through the window above his bed, and barely illuminates te edges. While you engage in foreplay, Eijirō gets ready for bed (skips brushing his teeth, because he’s impatient, and so, so horny) and by the time he’s sliding under the covers, you’re sat comfortably between Katsuki’s legs with a full mouth.

“Fuck yeah, Baby—just like that.”

Tucked under his duvet, Eijirō shucks his boxers down to his hips and grabs himself. His eyes flutter at the feeling, underwear and cock soaked enough that anyone lacking context would assume he already came. Meaning, the slide is easy, and he peeks through the doorway and into the lovingly lit living room.

Eijirō shouldn’t be doing this. He also shouldn’t be obsessed with the way his best friend’s cock fits in your mouth. Not all the way, but enough to make you tear and choke and gag. All Eijirō can really see is the back of your head and Katsuki’s blissed out face, both of which he thinks is wildly unfair.

Katsuki shivers, and it’s a full body affair. Eijirō’s hand wraps tight around the base of his dick because, jeez. Give a guy a warning before you do something really hot next time?

Katsuki lets out something akin to a whimper, which was not a sound he thought his bro could make. But now, he wants to hear it again and again, and possibly occasionally be the reason, every once in a while.

You’re not any better—you’re humming around his cock like you’re the one getting a blowjob, and it’s messy, Eijirō can fucking hear it, and it’s driving him insane. Katsuki grabs ahold of your hair and tugs, causing you to mewl, fall further down his cock, then choke. Katsuki groans and Eijirō stifles his own, praying to every God out there that he remains sane after tonight.

It’s a losing battle.

“Yeah? Y’like imagining that this is his cock, huh?” Katsuki takes control, moving your head at his will, and Eijirō’s arm flexes to match the pace. You whine, and Katsuki chuckles. “Dirty fuckin’ girl.”

You huff, irritated, and pinching Katsuki in his inner thigh, which earns you a jolt and a groan. Wow, Eijirō’s learning so many new things today. Like how you get cock drunk easy, and that Katsuki’s a pain slut. And Eijirō, who will never have any use for this information, stores it anyways.

Katsuki tips his head back and moans at something, and for a moment, Eijirō worries he’s been seen. Only for a moment—the ice in his blood is gone as quick as it came as Katsuki’s eyes flit back to you, and melts straight into his dick. No, despite what his dick says, he does not want to be caught—because that would be very, very bad.

As time goes on, he seems to care less about getting caught, too preoccupied with getting his fix. Which, makes him sound like an addict, but it’s not his fault, you guys are fucking right outside his door.

Eijirō nearly cums when Katsuki pulls you off his dick. Debates on it, for a good while.

Your mouth is swollen, with teary eyes to match the gloss of spit and pre-cum on your lips. Eijirō knows, because Katsuki pulls you up and sits you right on his dick, with your back pressed flush to his chest. And, like, Eijirō’s imagined this moment—the moment where he finally sees you naked—but figured it’d be some panicked walk in, a time when he wouldn’t be able to take in all of you and regret it, and most definitely not this.

Your bathing suit is still on, but barely. It’s misshapen and askew and doesn’t cover what it’s supposed to, covers the exact opposite of what it’s supposed to, actually. Eijirō bites back a groan.

“F-Fuck, Kat—’s too big,” you huff, wiping at the corners of your lips like you might be drooling. Are you drooling? Or is it leftover from the fucking amazing head he just watched you give his best friend?

Katsuki coos, clutching you tight to his body like you might scramble. His other hand holds your thigh open, enough that Eijirō can see your entrance stretch around Katsuki’s cock, and he wants to scream.

“You can take it,” he insists, low and heavy, but still loud enough for Eijirō to hear. You whimper and collapse into his chest, and the hand that holds you upright drifts, tweaking and pinching where it deems fit. “Y’wanna put on a show, don’t you?”

That’s the first time Eijirō catches it. A show for who?

You nod, but push at the couch cushions like you regret letting Katsuki in to begin with. Is this how you look every night? If so, Eijirō’s going to need you two to start fucking on the couch more often, ASAP.

“K-Kat, I can’t—”

Katsuki’s free hand finds your clit then, and whatever you were going to say is left to the wind, molded into something choked and garbled and completely unintelligible.

“What’s got you all worked up?” He snorts, like he’s any better, like he isn’t flushed to his chest and fluttering his eyes every time you shift just right. Eijirō squeezes the base of his dick.

You clumsily shove your boyfriend in the side of the head, who’s thrusts never falter. “Fuck you, you know why—Oh my god, Kat, slow the fuck down—”

“No,” he huffs with petulance, before, if anything, speeding up. “You’re greedy—you can take it.”

“It’s—” your leg kicks, seemingly involuntary, and Katsuki laughs at it. “That’s different.”

God, you whine is the same during sex and in the kitchen. How the fuck is he supposed to hear that the same again.

“How,” Katsuki chuckles, and pinches your clit. You squirm and tuck your head in his neck. “How the fuck are you supposed to take both of us when you can barely take me, huh? It’d be worse with Eijirō’s fat ass on top of you—shit—”

Now.

Eijirō has three thoughts, all of which he thinks at the exact same time:

hey! he’s not fat! he’s well-muscled with the right amount of squish!

damn kat…you think his ass is fat, though?

wait. why are we saying his name, why are we saying his name, why are saying his name—

The third thought is the loudest and lasts much longer than the rest, lasts perpetually, actually, and Eijirō almost cums at hearing Katsuki say his name. His actual name—not Shitty Hair, not Fuck-Face or Dumbass, but Eijirō—and while having sex, no less! With his girlfriend! What the fuck is this?!

You moan even louder, like you like that idea, like that’s something you could be into, and Eijirō doesn’t know what to make of that. Katsuki doesn’t seem to care, and Eijirō doesn’t know what to make of that, either. All he knows is that he’s cumming regardless, despite his best efforts, biting tight into the fat of his hand with a strained groan that he really, really hopes no one heard.

He’s so confused.

He still watches, though—watches you cum on Katsuki’s cock twice before he’s stuffing you full with a groan of his own, eyes trained on the gap between Eijirō’s door. Like he knows Eijirō is still watching, even if you two have been fucking for over an hour.

Eijirō waits until you both peel away from the couch and pad into the bathroom before moving a muscle. He finally gets up to close the door, and scrapes at the dried cum on his stomach with an old t-shirt until his skin turns red, and frowns as he watches it flake. What the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—

He needs to update Reddit. He needs to know what to do.

AITA FOR HAVING WANTING TO FUCK MY BEST FRIENDS’ GIRLFRIEND?

u/redredriot

edit: THEY MIGHT WANNA FUCK ME TOO???????

© mamashima/pumaya. do not edit, translate or copy my work without my permission. do not use for ai. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

One turns to you as he's preparing the salad. "If you trusted us enough, you could've gone ahead and done the live cooking."

"You can't even handle the multiple services going on right now," you respond, slicing the tomatoes and putting them on a big tray. "Let alone I leave you in charge to run a dinner service."

His eyes dart up at you, but all you give him is a shrug. "You don't know that if you don't let me do it."

"I do know, because you can't even properly help the servers with their questions without barking at them that you're busy."

He finishes the salad and rings the order in, brushing past you to clean up. "It's too much chaos. I don't like it when there's chaos."

"Then you're not cut out to lead."

He scoffs and walks out of the kitchen.

You cut the rest of the vegetables and put some olive oil and sea salt over them, laying some branches of rosemary in between them. A wedding party has never come without much freedom and more often than not, you're left to cook whatever fits their standards. This wedding party has come to the resort specifically for the great location and the food, and the entire menu is entrusted in your hands.

As it's the middle of the summer, you opt for dishes that fit the palette. Along with the bride and groom, you've selected the ones they prefer the most in terms of taste and presentation. They have little care for the costs and you have the freedom to go all out for once. It's one of the reasons why you like the wedding party so much.

The scent of cigarettes is back in the kitchen before your colleague is, but he doesn't say anything to you. He just continues cleaning up, dumping the pans he used on the growing pile of dishes.

"Go take your break," you say to the girl, who looks over her shoulder. She points at herself and you nod. "I'll bring you something to eat in a second, the usual?"

She smiles and nods. "I'll just finish this real quick—"

"No need," you interrupt and motion your head at your colleague. "He can take over, as he's so kind to just throw his stuff on there without asking."

He shoots you a glare and you smile in return.

"You have a lot to learn, and this is one of those lessons." You grab two slices of bread and decorate them with smoked salmon, lettuce and red onion. You top it off with honey mustard. "The salmon bites need another ten minutes in the oven. Can you take them out when they're done and let them rest for fifteen minutes? You can put the trays of vegetables in the oven for half an hour immediately after. They're for the soup."

"Are you sure that I'm cut out for that?" Your colleague asks with a scoff.

You grab the plate and smile at him. "You are, otherwise you would've left my kitchen a long time ago. It's just your attitude that needs some work." You pat his back. "I'll take a quick look upstairs to see if our colleagues need help. I'll be back soon, but call if you need any help."

"Yes, chef."

You walk out of the kitchen and deliver the plate to your colleague, who seated herself outside with a glass of water.

She looks up at you with a smile. "Thank you, chef."

"You take your time with that. I'm teaching someone in there a valuable lesson."

She nods. "I will."

You offer her a nod and descend off the stairs towards the beach. The black chef's jackets are a sharp contrast against the light scenery. Even the waiters dress for the occasion so the sight of your staff standing out makes you chuckle. You halt in your tracks and shoot a picture before you join them.

"Everything under control, chef," Beomgyu says with a salute.

You grin at him. "I didn't know you were part of my brigade now."

"I kind of am with all of the transporting I've done for you today." He waves his hand. "It's looking good so far, according to your actual brigade."

"We are just wondering if we should put any extra boards on the ground so we have more space to walk and store everything," one of your colleagues says. She waves her hand at the trolly, which holds the chafing dishes with the main courses.

You look around with a hum before you nod. "I would try and see if that broadens the space, especially if there's a hundred guests here to eat and you have to plate and store everything. It also has to make its way back to the kitchen without disturbing the party so I would suggest expanding it on the back so you can transport everything back to the kitchen via the ramp that connects to the bar instead."

"Then we'll do that." She nods at you. "Thank you, chef."

You return it and help your colleagues with the boards, putting everything into place. When they're almost done with the preparations, you return to the kitchen.

Your colleague is putting the salmon bites away and nods at you. "All good."

"Thank you." You roll up your sleeves and grab your notebook.

The printer goes off. You walk towards it and just when you want to announce the order, it starts spewing more tickets. You exchange a glance with your colleague, who looks on curiously.

The doors of the kitchen bust open and a waitress barges in. "Guys, I am so sorry for all of the tickets, but there's a lot of tables at once—"

"We'll work through everything as fast as we can," you tell her and put the tickets out in front of you. "Go back to the front of house, we'll call for you when the food's ready."

You read the first two tickets out loud and your colleague shoots into action as if he's wired to do so. As soon as the first ticket is on its way, you fall into your usual rhythm without even thinking about it.

You take the brie sandwiches out of the oven and and put them on the plate when a mop of silver hair piques around the corner. Your eyes flick to the entrance before you wipe the plate clean.

Before he can say anything, he's passed by a server. She takes the plates from you and flies out of the kitchen, replaced by another colleague who comes to collect the salads for another table.

You hum and grab the next tickets. "Alright, we have three caesar salads and two onion soups as entrees, and then two tuna melts, one shrimp salad, one teriyaki steak bites and a Korean fried chicken as main dishes."

"Yes, chef!"

You turn to Kai with a smile. "Good afternoon."

He rubs his neck. "Am I coming at an inconvenient time?"

"Hungry colleagues are never inconvenient." You step towards him and look up.

Kai watches you, his cheeks tinting a light pink.

"You are a little in the way, sweetheart." You grab his shoulders and move him to the side, brushing past him towards the fridge.

His mouth forms an 'O' shape, his cheeks flushing red instead.

"Let us finish the entrees and I can make you something," you continued and walked back with a fresh batch of onion soup, heating it up on the stove. "What would you like?"

"Whatever you have as a special today." Kai leans against the counter, but he shoots up. "If you have enough prepared, of course," he adds quickly.

You chuckle. "We always have enough. Let me get it to you once I have a moment to prepare it. Give me fifteen minutes, alright?"

"Perfect! I'll be at my desk." Kai shoots you a bright smile and turns on his heel. He does a small jump before he walks out of the kitchen.

When you bring the plate to him, he's bowed over what lies in front of him. Soft hums escape his lips, and every so often he writes something down.

You slam the bell on the counter.

Kai shoots up and clutches his chest when he sees you. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Your food, kind sir." You shove the plate forwards. "It's the teriyaki steak bites I was talking about a while back."

His eyes light up. "Oh, they're finally on the menu!" He took the plate from you and got up. "Are you joining me?"

"I have a lot of work to do." You offer him a smile. "Maybe another time."

"We'll see each other around anyway." Kai returns your smile. "Thank you for the lunch!"

"I hope you enjoy it."

He leans in. "I'm off when you are." He walks off with the plate in hand, almost like he's in a hurry.

You smile at the sight before disappearing into the kitchen again. Something about him makes your chest fill with warmth, but you push the thoughts away. Until it was time to meet him, and then everything could roam free amidst all of the wedding buzz.

Kai stands in the kitchen when you've put the mop away. His boyish smile and twinkling eyes make your heart skip a beat.

"Right on the dot," you say and unbotton your jacket.

He nods.

You toss it aside and cross your arms. "One time."

"I know. You made that very clear when I brought my plate back into the kitchen." Kai walks towards you until there's no distance left between you. "One taste is enough."

You pull him into a kiss. A buzz shoots through you entire body, lighting a spark that you've tried to suppress. You have no choice but to give into it before it reaches your heart and settles there. You can't afford that, not yet at least.

One time, echoes through your mind. One time and that's it.

You press against him as the kiss turns into something deeper, losing yourself to him so easily that he doesn't even need to try. Your teeth sink into his lower lip gently, tongue swirling over his.

Kai's nails dip into your waist and your stomach twists in excitement. His soft hums and groans make your heart jump, hands travelling over the curves of your body. He pulls back and kisses your neck, nibbling on your pulse.

You bite your lip harshly and entangle your fingers in his hair, pressed between him and the counter. A hitched breath escapes and you grip the platinum blonde strands tighter.

"I'm going to remember this," he mutters against your skin. When he looks up, he has a challenging look in his eyes.

You pull him up and back into another kiss.

He grins against your lips and deepens it.

"She should still be here," you hear one of your colleagues in the hallway.

You push Kai away from you and snatch your jacket off the ground.

The doors open and the bride stands in the kitchen alongside one of the servers. She throws her arms around you, the alcohol penetrating your nose.

"The food was sublime!" She slurs and squeezes your cheeks together. "You are a genius, my dear! I've never had such amazing food!"

Your eyes dart at Kai, who was lingering around the corner. You look back at the bride and nod. "Thank you for coming all the way here to tell me that."

"I had to before you would go home." She pulls your arm. "Come on, let's get you a drink!"

"I need to be here early in the morning, so I'll pass." You pat her shoulder. "Go back to your party. We'll see each other around in the following days."

The server drags her out of the kitchen and back to the party.

You breathe in relief and run a hand through your hair.

Kai laughs. "Well, someone was glad to see you."

As you grab your bag, you turn to him. "This was one time," you repeat and put your coat on.

He nods. "One taste."

You wish him a goodnight and turn the lights off.

One time, you keep repeating to yourself until you fall asleep that night.

Beomgyu is pouring a glass when you take a seat. His face lights up when he sees you and without a second thought, he grabs a couple of bottles and a glass.

You drop your bag at your feet and rub your face. "Man, the dinner service was insane tonight."

"Means they like your menu," he said with a wink. He puts your go-to cocktail in front of your nose and leans on the bar. "I have to admit, I missed you the past couple of nights."

"Flattered by the flirting." You raise your glass before taking a sip. "It was quiet without you, though."

"The 'I miss you so much, Beomgyu!' kind, I assume."

You let your silence speak for you and put your glass back on the napkin. When you lock eyes with Beomgyu, he's pouting. You smile at him sweetly.

His eyes divert before he peers up. "You can use a drink! Stay!" He grabs another glass and some bottles. "I'm being bullied here, so I can use your support in return."

You glance aside, where Kai has his hands on the edge of the chair, leaning on it. When you lock eyes, you shrug. "I have no idea what he's talking about."

Kai flashes you a grin and drops his bag off his shoulder. "Bullying? She? I don't believe that."

Beomgyu scoffs and mutters underneath his breath.

You look aside again. "No night shift for you?"

"And I have the weekend off," he answers with a smile, stretching his arms. "I can't wait."

With a bob of your head, you finish your drink.

"Will I survive the weekend without the best food I've ever had? Probably."

You smile.

"Up for debate, though," Beomgyu cuts in and puts the glass down in front of him. "I doubt you can even cook."

"Excuse me?"

"You know that some bring their own food to work?"

When you glance aside, Kai's cheeks flush. His mouth opens, but apart from a few strained sounds nothing comes out. He shakes his head, as if he snaps back into reality. "Okay, but why should I bring reheated crap if we have a chef who loves cooking?"

"Can't argue with that," you say with a shrug and shove the glass towards the bartender. "I wouldn't want my colleagues to eat crap anyway if a meal is cooked in no time."

Beomgyu exchanges a glance with him before he takes the glass. "Can I pour you another one, chef?"

"Always." You lean back in your seat and turn to Kai. "So, what are you going to do on your free weekend?"

"I have to be honest that I have no idea," he says and stirs his drink with a hum. "I think I'll join my sisters and go to the city with them. It's been a while since I properly saw them."

"Don't make me jealous now, Kai."

He chuckles, making you smile. He holds his phone up and his eyes dart to the screen. "I'll text them right now. They've been begging me to join?"

"Older sisters?"

"One, the other's younger than me," he answers. His thumbs glide over the keyboard in quick motions. "I'm sandwiched right in the middle."

You point at yourself. "Me too, but the other way around."

Kai looks up.

"I have an older and younger brother."

His eyes light up and you feel your chest fill with something warm and fuzzy. "No way! That's such a coincidence!"

"They can get at each other's throat," you take the glass from Beomgyu and thank him with a smile, "and then they turn around and expect me to do something about it. The many times I broke up their fights…"

"I don't even bother." Kai shrugs and takes a sip. "I don't even live there anymore and they still manage to call me up about their stupid fights."

You nodded excessively. "Same here. It's absolutely ridiculous."

"I'll take that over no siblings every day," he says and stirs the content of the glass around.

"Hear, hear."

He raises his glass and looks at you with a smile. "To being a middle child."

You clink your glasses together. "To being a middle child, indeed." When you look at Beomgyu, he's tended to other customers. "My brothers sometimes invite themselves over for dinner on my days off."

"So what you're saying is that your job never stops."

"I like to cook no matter where I am." You shrug and take a sip. "It's not as much a job as it my passion, makes everything a bit more bearable here."

Kai chuckles. "Oh, your kitchen staff."

"Yep." You chuckle along. "They're not for the weak. I'm telling ya."

The smile stays etched into his face. "My colleagues at the front desk are a handful, too. They have a habit of asking question they know the answer to, just because they're unwilling to think? I guess?"

"They're young," you say and put your glass down. "They have a lot to learn, still. I can speak for my staff when I say that they don't mean harm."

"Since I became their supervisor, some have kind of turned their backs on me, but I guess that's normal." Kai leans back in his seat with a hum, glancing your way. "You're not popular, either."

You shake your head. "It's the way I lead the kitchen. They make mistakes that can be avoided so after telling them calmly once, I lose my shit the second time, especially if it's the end of the night."

He hums. "I don't think you're that bad."

You lean in and smile, watching his cheeks flush. "You're not in my kitchen."

"I mean… We had a chef that yelled at everyone before you came here." He flashes you a sheepish smile. "It's an improvement that it's just your staff being scolded?"

"You have your way with words, don't you?"

"I'm trying."

You pat his shoulder and turn back to your drink. "Makes sense why you're here so much."

Kai stares at you. "Excuse me? Are you calling me a pushover?"

You shrug.

He scoffs playfully. "One thing you should know about me, chef," he raises a finger, "is that I'm not a pushover."

"He is," your hear Beomgyu on your right. As you look in his direction, he's drying glasses.

Beomgyu looks up and points one in your direction. "He was supposed to be off tonight, but he took a shift from a colleague."

You turn to Kai, who hides in his glass.

"Get him, chef," Beomgyu says. "Get him hard."

"I just love working here," Kai says. He looks at you and smiles. "I'm sure you can understand. You're passionate about food as I am about giving people a great time here. It's the entire reason why I majored in hotel management."

You leaned on your hand. "Did you have something else in mind before?"

"Maybe something with music, or entertainment, but I strayed away once I started working here." He shoves his empty glass forward and leans on the bar. "Music is a hobby."

A silence washes over you. You take your time to observe him, how strands of platinum hair fall in his eyes. Everytime he brushes them away, you mentally tell him not to. He looks cute that way.

You finish your drink and put some money underneath the glass. You grab a piece of paper and scribble something down. As you're grabbing your stuff, you give Kai the paper. "My number, in case you feel like doing this more often."

Kai takes it with a smile. "You'll be hearing from me."

You return the smile and swing your bag over your shoulder. You say goodbye to Beomgyu and walk towards the entrance.

And the tingling in your stomach doesn't stop for the rest of the night.

You're always the first one in the kitchen and in most cases, you're the last one leaving. This is a pattern that Kai learned absurdly quickly over the weeks that you started talking.

You push him against the closed door, the scent of jasmine and orange making your head spin. You can sense the almost boyish excitement, eagerly deepening the kiss as he's pinned between you and the door.

The secrecy makes you flutter as well.

His hands travel underneath your top, leaving a trail of heat under your stomach. You shiver, to which he grins. He pulls back. "I'll remember that, too."

"That's what you had to tell me?"

"Absolutely."

You peel away from him. "I mean, if you rather want to talk..."

Kai pouts. "I want to kiss you."

Your lips are pressed together again, his hands back under your top and your fingers tugging at his hair. Your free hand travels down and grabs the hem of his jeans.

He groans softly.

You slide it down to the bulge that's already forming and rub it.

Kai doesn't know how fast he needs to grab your hips. His eyes are clouded over when he pulls back, but hold a sliver of surprise.

You unbutton his jeans and drop to your knees.

"You are insane," he whispers.

"Our little secret," you reply and look up from underneath your lashes. "As long as you keep quiet, that is."

"Fuck," Kai bites his lip, "yes, okay. I will."

You pull his pants and boxers down, his cock springing free. The tip is a hot pink and when you stroke it, it twitches. You take the tip in your mouth and suck on it, earning a soft whimper from him. You look up one more time before taking it in entirely.

Kai's fingers entangle in your hair as he presses himself against the door. The sounds he makes are soft, your name leaves his lips in broken whispers, but they echo through every layer you desperately fight to keep up.

You suck on the tip again and something salty hits your tongue. You pump his length through his climax, until there was nothing left of him. You look at him as you swallow and wipe your lip with your thumb.

He looks at you with eyes blown out. "I…"

"I'll brush my teeth," you say and smile. "See when you're hungry."

Kai composes himself and fixes his clothes and hair, nodding. "I'll shoot you a text."

You take a detour through the bathrooms before heading into the kitchen.

Kai is replaced by the scent of cigarettes, followed by your colleague. He raises a hand and shakes the bag off his shoulder.

"Good morning, sunshine."

He deadpans you, but you can only grin. "I was grumpy in the morning once and now I'm stuck with 'sunshine.'"

"I can call you pumpkin after what happened last fall." You grab the paprika and cut the yellow one in small cubes. "I must say, orange suits you."

A towel flies your way and you grin wider. "I'm doing a fun special today."

He looks over curiously as he settles behind the vitrines.

You point the end of the knife at him. "Your trout special, if it flies out like crazy I'll let you be in charge of my side."

Your colleague perks up and nods determinedly. "Let's make sure that it'll be to die for, then."

You continue cutting the vegetables. "Let's do a test together. I'm using red onion, red and yellow paprika, am I forgetting something?"

"Zucchini," he says and grabs it from the fridge. "I would do it in cubes as well, and we can add some lemon as garnish."

You step aside and wave your arm towards the stove. "Lead the way."

He stares at you. "Really?"

"You gave the idea to me. Let's see what you do with it yourself."

He scrambles up. "I… Thank you, chef."

You watch as he puts the trout in the pan, working with such precision that you almost want to ask if he practiced. He cooks and season everything as if he's been doing it for years, perfecting every little detail. It's like you're watching yourself at work and the warmth spreads through your chest. You smile when he turns to you and nod.

He returns it and flips the trout.

You nudge him when he's plating the dish. "See? I'm rubbing off on you."

The corners of his mouth curve into a grin as he put the lemon on top. "Maybe you are a good mentor. When you're not yelling or scolding me."

"I do it only when you deserve it." You nod at the plate. "Let's make a picture and taste. I think the presentation looks gorgeous with all the colours around the trout. It really encapsulate the palette I want to incorperate this summer."

"Colourful and delicious."

You wink at him, to which he snickers. You grab two forks and hold one out. "You first, chef."

He smiles and takes a bite after putting his phone away. He bobs his head slowly. "Not bad."

You take a bite as well and the flavours explode in your mouth. It's like you're engulfed in everything the region is known for and stands for. "This is amazing."

"Thank you, chef. I hope guests will think the same."

"And otherwise they don't have taste." You shrug and take another bite. "Wouldn't be the first time."

He snorts and cleans his hands. "Let me find a colleague to write it on the board and I'll pick up some coffee on the way."

You give him one nod and watch him walk out of the door.

As you munch on another bite, you whip out your phone.

You: We have a fish special tonight

Within seconds, you have a reply.

Kai: I'll make sure my stomach is empty :P

You chuckle and lean against the counter, your fingers sliding over the keyboard.

You: Please go to sleep

Kai: Yes ma'am. On it

You ignore the way your stomach tingles and put your phone away. The day progesses in its usual way and soon you find yourself in the rush of dinner service. You limit yourself to expediting and jumping in wherever they need you, letting your colleague take the reins as the specials go out one by one.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and clutch your chest. When you look over your shoulder, Kai stands behind you. "Unneccessary."

"But very funny." He nods his head at the kitchen. "What are you doing in front of the line?"

"Mentoring my colleagues, that is also my job." You smile at him sweetly. "Text me when you're hungry, yeah?"

"I'm always hungry." Kai squeezes your shoulder. "I'd rather have you text me when rush is over and you have time."

You shrug. "I was first. You're texting when you're hungry."

"You should listen to the boss, Kai," your colleague calls from the stove. "Before you know it, she's yelling at you and scolding you, too."

Kai laughs softly and turns on his heel. "I'll shoot you a message."

"Thank you." You call for the server and slide the plate towards the edge. "Order up!"

Your colleague puts the trouts on the plates. "You realise that he's trailing after you like a lost dog, right?"

"Kai?" Upon his nodding, you hum. "We recently had a very nice bonding moment, but I don't think it's more than that."

From the dishwasher, your other colleague giggles. When you glance her way, she wears a bright grin. "He does seem to take a bigger interest in you than the rest of the kitchen."

"Because it's exactly what's happening."

"Whatever romantic fantasy you're conjuring up again, leave me out of it." You slide the plates towards the edge again and call for the servers.

"Ah, Soobin," the kitchen help calls out.

Soobin grabs the plates and puts one on his arm. "You sound like you're about to ask me something," he says warily. "Don't make it too difficult, please. The dining room is a hellscape and I cannot deal with another stupid question anymore."

You pat his shoulder in solidarity and check the temperature on the soup. "Let's get this soup out now it's still hot, please!"

Another server grabs the plates and hurries out of the kitchen, Soobin following after her. He returns soon enough and crosses his arms. "What's the question?"

"You know Kai."

"We're friends so I hope so." He narrows his eyes. "What of him?"

"How likely would you say it is that he has a crush on our head chef?"

Soobin glances at you and then back at your colleague. "Well, he does like the bossy ones."

You gasp. "Choi Soobin, my favourite server, did you just call me bossy?"

"The right word is 'assertive', of course." He shoots you a sweet smile. "He likes assertive girls."

You narrow your eyes and bob your head slowly. "You're off the hook. For now."

"Good, because I need to run the food." He grabs the salads and flies through the kitchen doors.

With a cocked eyebrow, you turn to the stove. "And why did you think that was necessary?"

He smiles at you and puts the burgers together.

As you slide into the ease of the rush, your phone buzzes.

Kai: Food sounds quite good about now

Kai: Thoughts?

You shake your head with a chuckle and slide it back in your pocket. "Do we have time to make a special for a very hungry colleague?"

He puts one in the pan alongside with the vegetables. "He's lucky that we have plenty."

"You don't know if it's a he."

"You're giddy and smiley as you look at your phone. I'm pretty sure I know who the hungry colleague in question is."

You roll your eyes and grab a plate. The words stick in the back of your mind nonetheless and you don't quite know how to feel about it yet. Since you spent the night at Beomgyu's bar talking to him, you've certainly found yourself drawing to him more often but in that way?

You've never had that before.

"Here, take it to him personally," he says and gives two plates. "And take your own break, too. We'll manage."

With the plates in hand, you arrive at the reception. Before the thought of slamming the bell crosses your mind, Kai already looks up.

"You're not scaring me again," he says, to which you chuckle. His eyes land on the trout and his eyes widen. "Woah! That looks amazing!"

"Idea from tonight's chef." You put it on the counter with a smile. "Might if I join? I was sent on break."

Kai's cheeks flush. "N-no. Not at all, actually." He motions his head and takes you outside, sitting down on the back of the patio.

"My cooks were teasing you about texting me," you say and prick into the vegetables.

"They're just jealous you're being very sweet to me." He bites into the trout and groans. "This is amazing!"

"Idea from the staff." You take a bite as well and hum. "Are you free somewhere this week?"

The words hang in the air between you, growing thicker the more time passes. Kai looks at you with hot pink cheeks and your eartips are burning.

You shrug and stir the vegetables. "Just asking if you said yes to more shifts."

"Saturday and Sunday are free."

You nod and mentally, you're cussing yourself out. "Good. You should keep them free so you can relax for a moment."

"Yes, chef!" He salutes you and you deadpan him, but the smile carved into your face is undeniable. Kai grins and turns back to his plate, which is almost empty. "You don't need to worry at all. I'm guarding my free time."

The question keeps lingering in the back of your mind, all the way through the week. You can't explain what grabs your attention so suddenly, but maybe you should take the leap. It can never hurt to try.

You're slicing the beef in thin strips when the doors to the kitchen open. As you look up, Kai halts in his tracks.

"Am…" He looks around and frowns. "Are you alone?"

"Kitchen is closed today, but I'm here for recipes." You nod your head at the stove. "There's a soup for you to try."

Kai looks over curiously before he brushes past you, making your breath catch. He grabs a spoon and takes a bite. His eyes blow wide open when he turns to you.

You chuckle. "I gather you like it?"

"This is delicious!" He raises his eyebrows. "Are you putting it on the menu?"

"Perhaps. I'm just testing some stuff out here."

"If you need another set of tastebuds," Kai winks at you, "you know where to find me."

"You can stay if you want?"

His cheeks flush red as he nods. "I… Yeah, of course. I will stay. Fun."

You snort and put the beef through the grinder.

Kai joins you. The scent of jasmine and orange lingers behind you and you swallow before it can consume you whole.

"I'm trying out a new recipe for nachos," you tell him. You mix in the granutaled onion and garlic, alongside the cumin and kosher salt. "I made everything myself basically and up until now, it took me like, an hour."

He eyes the chips curiously. "Can I…"

"Go ahead." You knead the beef together with the seasoning, watching how Kai takes a chip from the tray. You smile when his face lights up.

"You're a genius!"

You chuckle and put the beef in a pan, taking the pot off to let it cool off.

"What else are you making?" Kai asks. "You have half of the ingredients lying around."

"From my own home," you add and stir the beef around. "I want to make some main dishes that I think could work well on our menu, especially when the summer's over."

He looks over curiously. "You have duck at home?"

"Yep."

He bobs his head, upper lip curved upwards. "So cooking pays well after all, I see."

You deadpan him, but you can't help the smile on your face. You turn the stove off and put the chips in a bowl, putting the sour cream, salsa and beef on top. You sprinkle the cheese on it and put it in the oven.

As you turn to Kai, he's already looking at you. Soft, almost… endearing.

"What?"

"Nothing," he answers. The smile etched into his face grows. "I just think you're cool working around the kitchen so naturally."

It shouldn't make your beat hammer like it does.

"So the duck." He grabs the tray and looks at it. "Filet mignon?"

"No." You take the duck from him and grab the liquid leftovers. "Twice cooked sticky duck, like my grandma used to make."

Kai bobs his head and watches you. "So, how long does it take?"

"A day."

His eyes widen.

"I steam cooked it yesterday and now I'm going to do the rest." You put a pot on the fire with hot water and pour the stock in. "It takes twenty minutes to prepare now, but I'm sure we can streamline the process."

"And the duck?" Kai nods at the tray. "Isn't it like… I don't know, time consuming when you're in service?"

"Which is why we should do preparations in the morning." You smile and glaze the duck, taking the nachos out and putting them in front of your colleague. The duck goes in and you turn the steamer and rice cooker on.

Behind you, he groans. "You are so good. I can eat ten bowls of these right now."

You turn smile as you put the paksoi in the steamer, warmth spreading through your chest. "I'm glad to hear, sweetheart."

He reacts the same to the duck and to the other main dishes, each dish better than the last. By the time the start of the afternoon rolls around and you let the waiters taste your dishes as well, you're packing your knives.

"About this weekend," you hear yourself say.

Kai eyes you curiously.

"I'm free on Sunday. Would you like to come over?"

"I would love to." He takes a step forward.

You swallow and smile at him. "I mean, we can do something lowkey—"

"Anything with you is fine."

You nod and wrap your arms around his neck.

Kai's lips are sweeter than you expected, pressing against yours as if he will never have a chance to do it again. The giddiness, the excitement, it has all made way for something that comes from his core. A hunger that he's been suppressing, almost.

You play with the hairs in his neck, pressed between him and the counter. Your tongue swirls against his bottom lip, but he doesn't budge. You chuckle, to which he pulls back.

"What?"

"You're very set on taking control, aren't you?"

He hovers in front of your lips. "I want you to let go."

You cock an eyebrow with a grin.

Kai lifts your chin. "Challenge accepted."

You hook your fingers through the belt loops and pull him closer. You kiss him again, deeper this time.

Kai's hands slide down your curves and just when his fingers play with your button, your hear voices in the hallway.

Your stomach tingles when you see the frown carving in his forehead, the way he presses his lips together in sheer frustration. He runs a hand through his hair and turns to you. "I can hear my colleague from the front desk."

You hum and press one last kiss to his lips. "Then we'll just have to continue this Sunday."

His cheeks flush before he nods. He looks over his shoulder before he walks into the hallway.

You smile to yourself and pack up. You have him right where you want him to be.

Your house is off limits to anyone but Kai.

When your brothers stand on your doorstep, you whisk them away as fast as you can. Even after all of the pleading they're doing to go out to lunch with them, you hang up the excuse that you're deep cleaning your house and you're in the zone.

It's not entirely a lie and luckily, it throws them off your scent.

You're hoisting yourself in a dress by the time the doorbell rings. Half adjusting the sleeves, you run towards the front door and open it.

Kai's eyes flick to your dress before they land on you. "Wow."

"A bit different than the chef's jacket, isn't it?"

"You look… gorgeous." He chews his lip. "Absolutely gorgeous."

You chuckle and wave him inside. "Come in, before my neighbours think you're creeping around."

Kai follows you inside. You can feel his eyes burning in your back to a point you want to peel them off you.

"Do you have a good view?" You ask and turn around.

He smiles and nods. A little too sweetly for your liking.

You narrow your eyes and bob your head. "I see."

"I was looking respectfully."

"Of course you were." You open the fridge, the scent of orange and jasmine lingering behind you. Your head spins, but you know you're disarmed the moment Kai picks up on this. Instead, you bow forward and grab a bottle of wine out of the fridge.

Kai hums behind you. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

You turn around with the bottle in hand. "What should be on purpose?"

His eyes flick to the wine before he looks back at you. He smiles. "Nothing. Wine sounds good."

The bottle and two glasses end up on the counter. Kai watches as you pour them, his eyes firmly on the counter. Every few seconds, they dart to you and he shuffles.

You put the bottle back in the fridge and come back up. As you turn on your heel, Kai hovers over you, trapping you between him and the fridge.

"Crazy," he mutters. "Absolutely crazy."

"You wanted a challenge," you say in a low voice, your fingers tugging at the buttons of his blouse. "Or is it too much for you?"

He huffs and grabs your wrists. His lips find yours eagerly and you press up against him. He hums softly and moves his hands to your hips.

Your fingers play with the buttons of his blouse again and you manage to unbotton the first one before he pulls away.

His chest rises and falls heavily as he speaks. "I don't want you to think I'm doing this for pleasure only."

You shrug. "What does it matter?"

"It matters to me," he answers and cups your cheeks. "Whenever I think of you with other guys, I drive myself insane. I don't want that when I can be the one to make you laugh, or smile, and to make you feel good and to love you one day, like no other will be able to do so."

He brushes a lock out of your face. "I don't want our first time to be a simple relief of sexual pleasure because I want to be with you. And you only."

You smile and linger in front of his lips. "You had me from the first moment."

Kai kisses you with a rawness that you've never tasted on him before. He pulls you away from the fridge and lifts you on the kitchen island. When you wrap your legs around his waist, he pushes them apart.

He pulls away and pushes you down gently, positioning himself between your legs.

You lift your head to look at him, right when his hands push up your dress. When you lock eyes, he grins.

"You're not making it very hard for me, you know."

"A girl has her fantasies," you retort and lean on your elbows. "Tell me, what are you going to do now you have me here?"

Kai's eyes never leave you as his hand moves up your thigh. He pulls your string aside and rubs your clit with his thumb. A grin tugs at his lips when your breath catches. "Let's start with an appetiser, chef."

You watch how he lowers his head, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. A jolt of pleasure shoots to your core when his tongue swirls over your clit. Your thighs squeeze together, but he pushes them apart and keeps his hands there.

A soft whimper rolls of your lips as you throw your head back. Your fingers entangle in his hair. "Baby, you're doing so well," you manage. "Keep going."

Two fingers curl inside of you and hit your spot.

A pit forms in your stomach and you arch your back. You come in his mouth with trembling legs and a broken moan.

Kai cleans you up as he looks at you. "And that was merely the first course."

You lift yourself up and kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. Your hand moves down to the bulge in his pants and you rub it, earning yourself a groan from your colleague.

You pull his boxers down and his cock springs free, tip flushed a deep pink and already leaking. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Kai pushes you back down and spreads your legs. The tip teases at your entrance and you bite your lip.

"Fuck, you are really doing this here, huh?"

"I want to fulfill your fantasies," he says and pushes inside, thumb rubbing your clit in circle motions. "You'll surrender before you know it."

A wave of pleasure crashes over you and you throw your head back. You move your hips, earning a moan from him. "Control isn't that easy," you breathe out. "Show me you deserve it."

Kai thrusts deeper. Strands of hair stick to his forehead and his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth. His eyes pierce through you, watching your reactions closely. It makes your core flutter and he seems to feel this, too.

"So good for me." He peppers your bare stomach in kisses. "You're doing so well, baby."

You bite your lip, but a soft whimper escapes nonetheless. "Kai—"

"And so desperate for more," he croaks. His thrusts are harder, his thumb presses down on your clit when he moves it. He presses kisses to your inner thigh until all you can do is moan.

A pit forms in your stomach and you're lightheaded. You grip the edge of the counter and bite your lip harshly. You clench around his cock, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Something warm fills you up, followed by a broken moan from Kai. You ride out your high together until he collapses onto your stomach.

You brush your fingers through his hair. "You did so well, sweetheart."

Kai looks up and leans his chin on your stomach. "I changed my mind. I like it when you're in control."

"Don't make us go again," you warned him, to which he smiles sweetly.

"Dessert?"

"You're a funny one."

Kai comes up and extends his hand. "Let me help you off."

You grab it and hop off, fixing your dress. You caress his cheek and press a kiss to his lips. "What about we cuddle for dessert?"

He nods determinedly. "I want to take care of you."

"Let me get changed into something more comfortable, then."

Kai takes his blouse off and hands it to you, revealing a white tank top underneath.

You smile and switch your dress for the blouse.

He grabs your hand and twirls you around. "Gorgeous."

With the glasses of wine, you plop on the couch. You rest your head on his chest and drape your leg around his.

Kai caresses your shoulder, making small circle motions. "Your colleagues were right about me, by the way."

"Yeah, I gathered that by now."

He chuckles. "I hoped I was subtle enough, but I guess not. At least it took you a while to notice."

You slap his chest.

"Still on board to be with me?"

"Nope."

Kai grins and presses a long kiss to your hair. "Tough shit, chef. You're stuck with me now and there's a small chance I will ever get sick of you."

"And I don't want you to."

"Order up!" You slam the bell and slide the bowls forward. "Alright, that was the last ticket! Good job guys!"

"You too, chef!"

The kitchen has been running smoothly all night and for the first time in a while, you feel light on your feet. You move through the kitchen with a newfound swiftness, and even the smallest mistakes don't bother you as much as they usually do.

When the dishwasher puts the last plates away, you send her home. After you washed the equipment, you send your cook home as well. You empty the diswasher and clean the surfaces when the kitchen doors open.

You look up and smile. "Hi, baby. Almost done here."

Kai has his bag swung over his shoulder, but he puts it down. "Let me help you. It'll be done in the nick of time."

"You want to go home, don't you?"

"My girlfriend has a lot of fantasies."

You slap his chest, to which he grins. You stand on your toes and kiss him before handing him the sponge. "Here, you can clean the stove while I sweep and mop the floor."

Kai takes it and takes your place at the stove. "You can tell the summer's ending," he says and scrubs the stove. "People are going home, or they're making the most of their last night."

You sweep the remainder of dirt off the floor and throw it in the bin. "We had a busy night, and I doubt the bar is any quieter."

"Oh, no. Beomgyu is sending them back to their rooms drunk."

You chuckle and mop the floor. You throw your jacket off and hang it up on the rack before grabbing your bag. "Drink at Beomgyu's bar?"

Kai rests a hand on the small of your back as you walk out of the kitchen. "Duh."

"You're driving us home, though."

"Is this because I told you I don't like asparagus even when you make them?"

"Yes." You throw him the keys with a smile. "Here you go."

He shoves them into his pocket. "You're lucky I love you."

You press a kiss to his cheek and wave him into the bar, sitting down right in front of Beomgyu's nose.

He turns around and sighs. "Not you two again. I'm busy."

Kai rests an arm on your chair with a grin. "The usual, please."

"The usual bullshit, yeah." He grabs two glasses and prepares your cocktails.

You turn to Kai and smile. "Your place or mine?"

He rubs his chin with a hum. "Do you want the kitchen or the couch?"

"What if I just want to cuddle with my boyfriend instead of being turned inside out?"

"Then we should definitely go to your place."

You push him playfully and grab your drink from Beomgyu. "Thank you, kind sir."

"You are welcome." He points to Kai. "Your clingy boyfriend's not. He keeps talking to me about you and it's getting annoying."

"Choi Beomgyu, are you saying that you're sick of me?"

"Pretty much, yeah." He leans on the bar with a grin. "At least he's not silently gooning over you anymore. He can do it openly now."

You pat Kai's shoulder. "He's doing well."

"Fulfilling my boyfriend duties well." Kai nods firmly. "You just have to know exactly what she wants and you're set for life."

Yep, you are right in control.

🏷️: @cherrypickedxo ; @livmarauder ; @gent1es3xy ; @redemptions

collab tags: @kkyubear ; @pageraf ; @soohashits ; @caritaee ; @jinkoh ; @swangyu ; @kvinskyy ; @junnielvr ; @nanni197 ; @sfystb ; @jjunniecoree ; @icouldbelove ; @bamgeutori ; @littlemoasoobin ; @tomochey

“Yeah, we watched a horror movie. Are you still in the studio?”

“Horror? Really?” He sounds surprised, knowing all too well that you aren’t exactly fond of scary movies, “But yeah, I’m still in the studio. Maybe for another hour or two? You can wait at my place if you want to.”

“I see.” Your voice is more timid than you’d like it to be, and Kai easily picks up on it.

“Do you need me to pick you up? I can wrap up here and we can go home together.”

“No, it’s fine,” you don’t want to mess up his plans like that, but then you also don't want to be alone right now. "Hyuka?"

"Mhm?"

"Can I—can I come over?” 

“To the studio?”

“Yeah,” you chew on your lip, your eyes darting around the empty streets, “If it’s not a bother…”

“Of course it’s not. Can you get here by yourself? Or do you want me to meet you halfway?”

You shake your head even if he can’t see you, “I’m only a block away. See you in a minute.”

“Okay, see you in a minute,” he hums, “But call me if you change your mind, hm?”

“Yeah.”

The short walk to the company building does feel scary and maybe you would’ve liked for him to pick you up after all. You know he meant it when he offered too. But you should be fine to do at least this much by yourself when you’re already going to interrupt him at the studio. When you arrive the front door isn’t locked yet, so you make your way inside. The building feels kind of eerie this late at night, the corridors dark and empty, and you’re glad when you finally get to Kai’s studio, light pouring into the hallway from beneath the door.

He turns in his chair when you open the door and poke your head in. The smile on his lips is soft and genuine, “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” you greet back as you close the door behind yourself, still feeling a little rattled.

“Aw,” he coos at your timid appearance, “was it really scary?”

You shrug and plop down on the cozy chair he has in one corner of the small room, a purchase you know he made just so you’d be comfy if you visit him.

“My baby is such a scaredy cat,” he teases with a light grin, “What movie did you watch anyway?”

“Scream.”

The grin on his lips widens, “Ghostface, huh?” He pulls up the collar of his hoodie to cover his face, the print that looks very much like the iconic mask on full display, “Am I scary now, too?” He giggles.

You meet his gaze with a pout when he lowers the fabric again, “Stop teasing me.”

His expression softens at your words and he opens his arms and motions for you to come over. “Don’t pout, baby.”

You reluctantly trudge over, straddling his hips and letting him cup your cheeks.

“You know I don’t mean anything by it,” he assures, playfully squishing your cheeks together, “and you were so brave for coming here by yourself.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. And you know I would’ve picked you up, too,” his thumbs stroke your squished cheeks with a fond smile, “my brave baby.”

You grumble something that even you yourself can’t decipher, before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He smells nice, like shampoo and like him, and you immediately feel grounded as you breathe in his scent. He holds you in his arms, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other comfortingly rubbing your thigh, fingertips ever so slightly slipping beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” you mumble into his skin.

“Mhm, not for that,” he turns his head to leave a peck on your hair, “you can always come here.”

“Don’t say that, what if I take you up on that?”

He chuckles before leaving another peck on your temple. “Then I’ll probably never get any work done ever again. But I could live with that.”

You sit up again to look at him properly, a small grin on your face, “Really?”

He pecks your lips, “Really.”

Your grin widens, unable to hide the mischief you’re up to on your face, “If you’re never going to get any work done ever again anyway, maybe we could do something more fun than work right now,” you suggest, before kissing him back, properly this time.

He hums into your lips, and you feel the hand on your thigh move up a little higher, fingers kneading your skin, “And you already have an idea?”

“One or two?” You grind your hips into him and feel the way his grip on you tightens. When you kiss again, a little more passionately now, he lets both his hands slip beneath your skirt, cupping your ass cheeks and playing with the hem of your panties. You continue rolling your hips against him at a slow pace, feeling him grow beneath you. The friction feels good for you too, and you’re probably staining his sweatpants with the wetness soaking through the fabric of your panties.

“More,” you mumble, tilting your neck as Kai starts kissing and nibbling at the sensitive skin beneath your jaw.

“You sure? Isn’t it uncomfortable? We can go home—”

He has a point, the armrests digging into your thighs not exactly the most pleasant sensation, but you don’t really care. You tug at the hem of his sweatpants and let it snap back against his lower stomach. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t have condoms here.”

“That’s fine too,” you assure, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Are you sure?”

You roll your hips again, knowing your every move weakens his resolve that hasn’t even really been there in the first place. “Very sure.”

You feel his grip on you tighten and his teeth catch on the skin of your collarbones, and you love to notice these little signs of need. Kai is always so calm with you, and that is one of the things you like about him, always making you feel loved and cherished, but sometimes it’s nice to know he wants you in a more primal way too.

He removes one of his hands from your ass to tug himself out of his sweatpants, neither of you willing to bother with undressing. He strokes himself a few times, but you quickly take over, wrapping your hand around him while he pulls your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your folds.

“You’re so wet,” he marvels, briefly letting his digits dip into your heat, “think you can already take me?”

“Yeah,” you let out a sigh when his thumb runs over your clit, “it’s good.”

He lets out a content hum before he lines himself up to your entrance, his other hand grabbing your waist to keep you steady as he helps you slowly sink down on him. He clenches his jaw and you’re sure he’s dying to just buck his hips into you and bottom out all at once, but he doesn’t. He knows better than to rush things when you go in without preparation like this, and he has no interest in hurting you for the sake of his own pleasure. So, he goes slow and steady, letting you take him inch by inch until he finally bottoms out with a relieved sigh. He doesn’t move immediately, waiting for you to signal you adjusted to his size, before he pulls your hips closer and helps you move on top of him. You keep at a slow pace, enjoying the intimacy of the moment, lazy grinds and sweet kisses, and it almost makes you want to go forever—

A noise. 

The sound of a door falling shut. You tense up.

“What was that?” you whisper, heart rate picking up instantly, “Did you hear that?”

Kai seems unbothered, his lips attached to your neck, “I didn’t hear anything.”

“No, I swear,” your fingers dig into his shoulders as you strain to listen to what’s going on outside of the studio. Albeit faint, you can hear steps. “Someone is out there.”

“That can’t be,” Kai only briefly detaches from your skin, before his lips find your pulse again, “Everyone already left.”

“No,” you insist, the sound of steps slowly coming closer and closer, “Someone is in the hallway.” 

“Maybe it’s ghostface looking for us,” he looks at you with a mischievous grin, “after all we’re breaking survival rule number one: you can never have sex.” 

“That’s not funny,” you whine, your voice thin with fear.

“No, it’s not,” he bucks his hips into you, “but we should probably make the best of the little time we have left, right?” He bucks his hips again and it makes you see stars, despite the fear consuming you, or maybe precisely because of it. The steps are so close now, you swear whoever is out there must be just a few doors away.

“Hyuka,” You whimper desperately, staring at your boyfriend in panic, who seems way too collected about all of this. You involuntarily clench around him, who’s still sheathed deeply inside of you, and it makes him draw in air between his teeth and tighten his grip on you in hopes of keeping you still. 

“Shh,” Kai holds his finger up to his lips, “You don’t want him to hear us now, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, but you can’t calm down at all. You hear another step and another and another until they are right outside the studio.

And then, they stop.

Why did they stop?

There are tears brimming in your eyes and even Kai gently rubbing circles into your skin with his thumbs can’t soothe you. You’re scared out of your mind, scared of getting caught like this, scared of whoever is out there, scared of dying.

Knock, knock.

The sound on the door is too loud against the silence of the room.

Knock.

You can’t help the scared noise escaping your throat, and you regret it immediately, but Kai is quick to cover your mouth with his palm to silence you.

“Breathe,” he whispers, “it’s all good, I promise,” and you don’t get what he means, until you hear a voice from the other side of the door.

“Security. Just wanted to let you know we’ll be closing up the building soon.”

“Thanks,” Kai yells back, his hand still covering your mouth, “I’ll be out in 30 minutes.”

Once the guard is gone, Kai lets go and looks at you with a sheepish grin. “See? It’s all good.”

“I hate you,” you weakly hit his chest, “you’re so dead.” But your words barely have any bite to them, not with the way the tears you’ve been holding in this whole time are finally spilling out and running down your cheeks.

“Oh, nugget, don’t cry,” Kai wipes them away with his thumbs, “I’m sorry, hm? Please don’t cry.”

“You better be sorry,” you give him a glare and Kai knows all too well that he has pushed you a little too far, “Nugget?”

But instead of a response you roll your hips into him, quickly picking up pace and building up a steady rhythm, leaving Kai to groan beneath you.

“We have a time limit now after all, so we better make the best of the little time we have left, right?“

“You’ve got a point there,” he presses out with a huffed laugh, as you move on top of him, clenching around him in ways you know will drive him insane. 

“But we don’t have to rush that much, do we, baby?” His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, putting in enough strength to at least somewhat slow your movements, “Or else I’ll end up cumming all by myself.”

“You think I won’t keep going until I’m satisfied?”

“You’re the devil.”

 You give him a shit eating grin as you lean in to kiss him, “So are you.”

“Our wedding night,” you whispered, as if it was something scandalous and secret, though your drunk self didn’t quite manage to keep your voice down, “You’ll have to carry me over the threshold then, too. But with my dress and all, I’ll be sooo heavy. You better work out.”

“I think I can handle it,” he hoisted you up a little higher to prove his point as he carried you down the hallway, “And who said I was going to marry you?”

Immediately, a pout appeared on your lips and your eyebrows pulled into a frown, “Were you going to marry someone else? Who?” 

He shrugged, because he couldn’t help himself from wanting to tease you a bit when you were drunk and moody like this. “Who knows?”

The frown deepened even further, “Do you really think anyone else would marry a nerd like you?”

“You think no one would?”

“You suck,” You averted your gaze, your response coming out in a mumble, “Of course a lot of people would. But you should indulge me at times like this.”

“Sorry love,” he paused to leave a small peck on your forehead, “Of course there’s no one else I would marry but you.”

“Thank you,” you replied, emphasizing each syllable. 

Kai just chuckled, turning to nudge open the door to the bedroom with his shoulder, cozy bed with your (mostly his) zillion plushies ready to swallow you up. He set you down at the foot of the bed, and you just flopped over to the side like a sack of potatoes while he crouched down to take off your shoes.

“You will though, right?” You mumbled into the mattress. Your voice sounded genuine this time, “Marry me?”

“Are you proposing right now?”

“No. I don’t want it like that.”

“You want me to propose?”

You turned your head from where it’s buried in the sheets to look at him. Your hair fell into your face messily, but he could still make out your eyes beneath. “Yeah.”

“Now?” 

“No. Not now… Wait a bit, so that I can feel surprised by it.”

Kai wouldn’t be able to keep the fond smile off his face if he tried. “Alright. I’ll wait a bit.”

"But not too long." 

“Someone’s impatient,” He shook his head with a chuckle, “We’ll have the rest of our lives.”

“Well, we both know that you’re the patient one between the two of us. And besides,” a cheeky smile spread on your lips, and Kai wanted to kiss it right off, “I just can’t wait for the rest of our lives to begin. What’s so wrong about that?”

“You’re right,” he said, keeping his eyes from darting to the bottom drawer of his nightstand and instead leaning over to finally peck your lips, “I can’t wait either.”

As soon as you stepped into the newly established campus bakery, walking up to the counter and observing all the pastries, contemplating for a rather long time before you end up deciding on what you’d usually order anyway, Soobin couldn’t help feeling like his world got totally turned upside down. The sight of you rendering him completely speechless and unable to even think.

Time seemingly going by so slow like in the kdramas as your shiny hair majestically blows in the non existent wind inside, smile brightening up the entire bakery. He could practically see the roses blooming around your face like in the mangas. Was this love at first sight?!

Realistically, no.

But were you incredibly attractive to him and a breath of fresh air to the moody, stressed out college students that purchase a single coffee and stay for hours completing assignments with their backs concerningly hunched over? Hell yes.

And unfortunately for Soobin, he does not do well with pretty people. At all. Not realising you had even ordered, too in awe and preoccupied with taking in all your features until he’s snapped back to reality with the clearing of your throat and he can already feel his cheeks burning up horribly fast. Oh god. He really, really hopes it’s not evident right now.

“S-sorry…What did you say?” He begins apologising profusely to you, too embarrassed to even look you in the eyes, staring off more to the side. This was definitely not his best customer service.

With a chuckle, you brush it off and state your order again, “I said could I have the strawberry swirl cheesecake please?” If Soobin could look at himself in third person, he would so be face palming right now. Or better yet, maybe he could just go up and like, punch himself straight up or something for acting like such a loser.

“Ah right... That’s ₩7500. Cash or card?”

You pay with cash and Soobin, very nervously, fumbles around to garner the right amount of change to hand you, though doing it in the most awkward way possible and his palm makes direct contact with yours as he hands the money, making him blush even more and let out a small obvious gasp at the feeling of your soft hand. Oh my god. Why did he do that?! He really hopes you didn’t find that weird.

You only let out another chuckle, thanking him before you’re leaving the bakery in an elegant manner and Soobin is left to sigh and watch your back disappear. Damn it. He’ll probably never see you again. You were so pretty and so cute, too cute even-

“You’re such a virgin.”

His thoughts about you are abruptly dissipated by his coworker and unfortunately best friend, Choi Beomgyu who gives him the stupidest, most annoying grin he would definitely like to slap off his face right now.

“Just shut up.” Soobin grimaces and rolls his eyes at beomgyu, bringing a batch of freshly baked cookies out of the oven behind him and placing them into the display glass one by one.

"You’re pinker than the strawberry macarons we sell. That's saying something." Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at him with sass.

So does that mean you could see how flustered he was getting then? Oh no! Soobin clears his throat and narrows his eyes at beomgyu anyway. “Am not.”

“Are too! Anyway, all I’m saying is that interaction was painful to watch. You’re really giving pathetic, loser, virgin right now. I cant lie.” Beomgyu attempts to stifle in one of his obnoxious laughs.

Soobin is quick to snap back, "You've only ever slept with one person!"

"S-so!! At least im not a virgin!" Beomgyu’s cheeks also become the equivalent to the strawberry macarons as he scrambles to try and defend himself, brows furrowed and cheeks puffed.

“Well, the concept of a virgin is purely societal anyway. It doesn’t actually matter. It doesn’t mean anything really.” Soobin bitterly replies, continuing to work whilst his counterpart does completely nothing like most of the time. It's usually soobin that does work, remind him not to agree to beomyu's silly ideas of getting a job together ever again.

Beomgyu scoffs and snickers at this, "Whatever. You’re just saying all that to make yourself feel better because you’re a loser. LMAO"

"I’ll punch you right now."

"Then we'll both be fired~”

A poor customer still awaits at the counter to be served, standing in bewilderment and tiredness. Waiting for the two bakers to finish bickering and sighing as they don’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon.

Soobin doesn’t expect to see you again, in complete honesty, he’s almost forgotten you even exist after you never come again. But he’s in luck and more than pleasantly surprised when he hears the bell to the door go ding!, indicating a customer had walked in. He looks up from the cake he was decorating and in comes you looking cuter than the first time he saw you. He tries not to mess up the cake and he stands up straight almost instantly when he sees you, waiting for you to order and trying to remain calm.

You laugh and point at his cute nose when you come up to the counter. “You have like, icing all on your nose.”

“O-oh. I do?” He points at himself and you nod in reply. He feels himself going redder by the minute. He must look so stupid right now! And he urgently brings his sleeve up and tries to wipe the icing off his nose to not make himself look an even more of a complete fool in front of you .

“Ah wait no. Let me do it!” You lean over the counter as you see him struggling and wipe it off the top of his cute bunny like nose instead for him.

And that was the end of soobin. The end.

-

You become a regular at the bakery and soobin becomes a regular of embarrassing the absolute shit out of himself each time he sees you. He really doesn’t think he can top the previous comedic disaster that occurs when you enter, yet he always proves himself wrong, the awkwardness reaching new heights each time. From dropping trays of pastries, spilling drinks, nearly slipping in front of you, giving you a ₩50000 note when it was only ₩5000 change, the list goes on and on. He’s actually surprised he hasn’t lost his job yet.

And there’s also always a disappointed beomgyu shaking his head afterwards ready to make fun of him when Soobin promises to make a move but freezes every time you’re in sight, too much of a pussy.

“I’m calling an intervention.” Beomgyu declares and sighs after the nth time of soobin making absolutely no moves on you whatsoever, “Soobin, my man, my bro, you desperately need to get banged. It’s painful seeing the way you act. Your little crush is not gonna like you with the way you act. That’s it. We’re going clubbing tonight after this shift. No buts.”

“But-”

“I said no buts!”

“You know I hate clubbing.”

“You’ve never even been with me despite my constant pleads.” Beomgyu shakes his head and makes a dramatic pained face at his way.

“So? I know I’ll hate it.”

“You’re such a hater bro.”

“Yes I am. And I take pride in it. I’m a hater of everything.”

Beomgyu just sighs. He was utterly hopeless.

Unfortunately, there was no way Soobin could get out of this because beomgyu was having absolutely none of his protests and excuses and that’s how he ends up finding himself at the club anyway after his shift, sitting off to the side as he watches beomgyu disappear somewhere into the crowd. Soobin sighs as he downs his jack and coke. This was going to be a long fucking night.

-

In the dimly lit club, soobin’s discomfort was palpable, like a fish out of water and you noticed instantly upon arrival. It’s that cute tall baker boy who always serves you! You excitedly make your way and sit next to him, he looked a little lonely. “Hey! You work at that bakery on campus. I go there!”

Soobin’s eyes nearly fall out of his sockets at the sight of you sitting next to him and he nearly chokes on his drink as he splutters on his straw and nods. Act calm, act calm, act calm, act calm. Act cool and mysterious.

It’s you! You’re speaking to him?!

“So…these things not really your scene, huh?”

“Gee. How did you ever notice?” Soobin attempts to smile and joke with dry humour but it executes a little more awkward and nervous than how he would have liked.

You also try to carry on the conversation since this is the first time you’ve got to ever actually talk to the cute boy before. “I’m very intuitive. I can just sense things like that.”

He laughs at that too, feeling a bit more comfortable around you now. “No but yeah, I’d much rather be at home right now sleeping. Can’t say I’m much of an advocate for getting stupidly drunk with sweaty people you don’t even know with terrible rave music and flashing lights that should have an epilepsy warning”

“I get it.” You chuckle at how passionate he gets talking about how much he hates clubbing, frown on his cute face. “So why are you here then?”

“Friend wanted me to. Said I needed to finally get laid or whatever.” Soobin rolls his eyes and sips on his drink again, motioning his head to the direction of beomgyu on the dance floor, clearly drunk off his ass now.

“Oh, you’re a Virgin?”

Soobin’s ears go red when he realises what he said to you. “O-oh um y-yeah I guess…”

“Are you waiting for like marriage or the right person or something?” You question, genuinely surprised. He was tall and very attractive and it was rare for college boys to not hook up every single night these days.

“God no. Just never happened. I don’t really care for things like that. It’s probably overhyped anyway and doesn’t even feel that good. Like porn is highly unrealistic anyway.”

“You think so?” You chuckle at him and he nods, continuing to cutely sip on his drink with his straw. “Well maybe you should to try it out first and see for yourself.” Your words start to become a little flirty as you grow more confident talking with him and also because of the alcohol making you slightly tipsy now. “Sorry, but do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes please.” Soobin’s eyes widen even more at your suggestion and he’s more than happy to get out of here with you especially.

“Umm your friend is a bit….out of it right now.” You watch beomgyu drunk from afar, whipping his long hair back and forth claiming to everyone around he’ll be able to do it fast enough to lift off his feet and fly like a helicopter.

“He’ll be…he’ll be fine I’m sure”

Soobin has no idea what good stuff he must have done in his past life to get to this moment right now, in your room, making out with you, in your bed. Did he mention making out? With you?! The customer he’s been crushing on for months?! Holy, he might hyperventilate right now. It all feels like a dream. Is this real right now?

You cup his cheek and move into his lap, continuing to move your lips against his and soobin’s ears and face are all flushed, breathing loud of enough for you to hear and he looks all nervous and a little shaky.

You stop kissing him but he chases after your lips still and you stroke his cheek, “Are you okay Soobin?”

He’s only able to nod, lips parted and eyes all glazed over. He’s so out of it just from making out with you it’s crazy. But so cute too.

“C-can you…can we…just want…”

“What do you want, baby?” You chuckle and stroke his cheek as he manages to utter some words. The petname only makes his head go even more haywire.

“W-want you…”

“What do you want me to do?” You giggle and coo at him.

He shyly shows you the boner he’s had this entire time. You can’t believe he got a boner just from some kissing. “Can you-will you touch me…please? Need it…” He pleads at you nervously, so red in the face.

“Are you sure?”

He nods his head exceptionally fast and you begin to unbuckle his jeans as he watches you take his flushed and hard dick out, breathing only becoming heavier. Damn, you didn’t think he’d be that big.

You take him into your hands and his mouth his already agape, gasping when you slowly start to stroke him.

You pump his big cock at a steady pace so as not to overwhelm him too much, though twisting and thumbing at the tip occasionally that has him drooling at the corner of his mouth and beads of precum dribbling out heavily from his cock. It’s endearing how far gone he is just at you stroking his dick slow, shy whimpers and other noises eliciting from his mouth.

You unbutton you shirt with your other hand as you continue to pump him and his eyes go crazed at the sight of your tits, you guiding his own big inexperienced hands to grope at them and he does, slumping his head into your neck and shoulder moaning into it and still groping and squeezing at your tits.

With a sudden yelp you feel Soobin’s cum spurt up and leak into your hands, his eyes rolling back as he whimpers continuously from his premature orgasm.

He doesn’t lift his head from your shoulder yet, too embarrassed to face you but he eventually does, eyes still half lidded, trying to catch his breath and he’s hard again. “W-will you fuck me? Please please please. Wanna feel it, wanna feel you, please?” He practically begs, still panting out.

“Are you really sure, Soobin? With me?”

“Yes please! Only want you.”

You study his face for any hesitancy but it’s clear he’s so set on wanting you to fuck him. So you wrap your hands around both his wrists and bring him to lay down on your pillows instead, you still straddling his lap.

When you’ve undressed your lower half, you bring his dick and slide it over your entrance a few times, he moans out loud, hands coming up shyly to cover his face and then you sink down incredibly slowly on his massive length . Soobin’s jaw drops and breath hitches at the feeling of his dick finally in your warm pussy, a strangled moan ripping out of him. He could seriously cum just from being in you right now, but he tries so hard not to or you’ll be disappointed and he doesn’t want to see you disappointed or embarrass himself even more.

“You good, baby?”

“M’ f-fine. Just-Just need a minute.” Soobin shakes out.

You take his hands away from his face and lean down to softly kiss him instead, trying to calm him down and he effuses into your mouth, kissing back passionately with his eyes closed.

“I’m ready now…” He pulls away after a while and looks you in the eyes.

So you start to slowly move, riding him, going up and down on his virgin dick. Soobin’s mouth hangs open in endless moans and gasps and whimpers, face buried into your pillow to the side and his hair all messy now. Whole body flushed and shaking underneath you.

“Better than you thought, baby?” You grunt out, bouncing on top of his cock.

“So much better. O-oh my god, f-fuck…ah!” So maybe sex wasn’t overhyped after all. Because goddamn, you feel so fucking good. Maybe it was just you. But Soobin truly feels like he’s gliding on fluffy clouds right now. All the times he’s touched himself not even coming close to how he feels right now stuffed in your pussy as you fuck him, watching mesmerised as your tits bounce with each movement. He could die here right now in full contentment. Oh how he was so wrong.

It’s not long at all before Soobin can’t hold it anymore. His hips bucking up and breath hitching as a loud strangled mewl tumbles out of his mouth and you feel hot cum fill you up suddenly that makes you still your movements on him. He lets out a long slurred groan and then goes limp beneath you, eyes closing shut and open as he fades from conscious to not every now and then. Is he really that fucked out?

After a while, he finally somewhat recovers and comes back to you from his high, still panting out and chest rising up and down. He looks up at you with a small shy smile on his lips, arm thrown over his forehead.

“You know I literally only go to the bakery because of how cute and silly you are and how you always make a mess of yourself whenever I walk in” You chuckle and admit, drawing shapes into his chest.

“W-wait you knew I liked you?” Soobin asks, shocked and feeling embarrassed again.

You laugh, “Come on, you made it rather obvious.”

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and irriating when fics have such little reblogs ☹️. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it make writers want to actually write :)

“Oh thank fuck—c’mere, Baby.”

Katsuki—a Katsuki, you suppose—starts moving independent of the other. He all but collapses into very confused arms, dropping his chin on your head and squeezing you tight. The other one glowers, messily shoving two pairs of boots under the bench with complete disregard for his strict organizational pattern.

“Um…”

You blink at the Katsuki that cradles you. He gives a soft smile in return, one that usually requires blood, sweat, and tears to crack (even if it takes you a significant less amount of blood, sweat, and tears than the average human—they’re blood, sweat, and tears nonetheless) and you don’t know what to do with it. Where to put it.

“Got hit with a fucker’s quirk,” the other Katsuki explains after giving up on making the boots fit. Typically, there aren’t two pairs, but one—and the shoe rack is feeling the added pressure.

“So…it’s the quirk that split you in two,” you ask, even though you know. The answer is staring you right in the face, but, like. Just in case.

The Katsuki still holding onto you grunts in agreement, and you finally manage to peel away. He steps back as the other Katsuki steps forward, and you finally get a good look at how identical they are. Which, obviously, but it’s still slightly alarming, nonetheless. Like…the shining twins, if they were blond and angry. And covered in grime.

“Holy shit…” your eyes dart between the two of them, trying to find discrepancies in anything other than mismatched dirt. You find none, save for the way they hold themselves. You need better names—you can’t keep calling them Katsuki and other Katsuki.

“Do…you know when it’s going to wear off?”

A self-indulgent question. Perhaps.

“Fuckin’—no.” Angry Katsuki digs a knuckle into his ear, and the other one yawns. “They gotta track the fucker down, first. Apparently, I can’t do my goddamn job like this.”

He gestures between the two of them, and you teeter your head in semi-agreement. The other Katsuki pipes up, and god, you need better names.

“’M not pissed about it, though,” He steps out of line to grab the hand limp by your side, kissing your knuckles with the lightest touch you’ve ever felt. “Means I get to see you.”

Oh?

“I am,” angry Katsuki growls, slapping his counterpart’s hand away from yours. “I should be out there, hunting that mitosis motherfucker.”

“If you go out there, you’re killing him,” other Katsuki defends. Angry Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“Fuckin’ exactly.”

Other Katsuki just sighs, turning back to you. Immediately his features soften along with his voice. “How’ve you been today, Baby? I left early.”

“Um…good? This is just…” you peer around Katsuki’s body to view the other one, who rolls his eyes again, almost completely ignoring your presence. That is, until:

“Ima fuckin’ shower,” he grumbles, and walks down the hall.

“A lot?” Other Katsuki finishes for you, watching his parallel until he disappears into the bedroom, and you nod.

Something like that.

“Okay. Kat.” You point to Angry Katsuki, who’s now glowering on the couch, much like he did at the front door, and much cleaner than before. Your finger shifts to Other Katsuki, until his head becomes a small point at the top of your fingernail. “Suki. That way, if I call, you both don’t come running. Cool?”

While Suki nods his head with diligence, Kat finally smiles. Not the soft smile that’s reserved for you, but the self-satisfied smile reserved for villains, the one that barely hides his hunger for blood.

“Hear that, Nerd? I’m Kat, not your bitch-ass.”

Suki blinks, relatively confused, and tips his head to the side. “Why the fuck does that matter?”

“’Cuz I’m the original!” Kat says loud and proud, digging a thumb into his chest. “Not you.”

“…Again, why the fuck does that matter,” Suki grumbles, less a question and more an observation. A statement. “We got split in two. We’re two halves of the same person, not a copy-paste.”

“I fuckin’ know that, shit stick.” Kat’s hands crackle at the prospect of being challenged, and while Suki tries to hide the way he shrinks in on himself, you throw a spare pillow at Kat’s head.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

“No explosions in the house!”

Kat grumbles, but his hands fizzle out. He shakes them out at his sides. “’M not doin’ this shit—’m goin’ to bed.”

“Ah-Ah! No,” you say, and Kat freezes like you grabbed him physically, like there’s an invisible wall that separates the living room from the rest of the house. “You said we’d watch that move tonight, remember?”

“We said,” he amends, looking unimpressed before jerking his head to Suki. “Make him watch it.”

“No! It’s exactly like you said—you both promised. Technically,” you smile and look at Suki, who, honestly, looks like there’s no other place he’d rather be—he just watches you talk with his chin propped on a hand and love in his eyes. “So. We’re both watching it.”

“Fuckin’—fine,” Kat groans, loud and obnoxious, and to the ceiling. He sits back down with a huff. “But I swear to God, if it’s some fuckin’ Twilight shit again—”

“It’s not.” You get up only to shove Kat over with a hip, quitting his manspreading, and make yourself enough room between them. He lets you. Suki wraps both arms around your middle, and cuddles you close and tight, like you might up and disappear tomorrow. “That was one time—”

“One horrible time, when I was forced to watch five fuckin’ movies of absolute bullshit—”

“It wasn’t that fuckin’ bad,” Suki defends with a quiet grumble, and you want to scoop him up and run away with him. “’S…campy.”

“Thank you,” you nod, before redirecting your attention to Kat, patting him on the leg. “See? Suki understands quality content when he sees it.”

“Get the fuck out my face.”

You don’t put on Twilight—but you do put on Argylle, and that’s not much better.

“So, you’re tellin’ me,” Kat trails off, and you watch the movie flicker in carmine eyes. “That the whole damn time, this chick was writing a book that predicts the future—”

“Specifically a spy-future, yes—”

“And, that’s why…y’know what? Fuck this shit, my head hurts.”

“You have no sense of whimsy,” you sigh, unimpressed. Kat rolls his eyes.

“Listen, Sweetheart,” He fills his voice with faux saccharine, artificial flavoring, and you scowl at the mockery. “I got a job—a real serious job. Don’t got fuckin’ time for ‘whimsy.’”

Kat hangs air quotes with a hand, and that just pushes your frown deeper.

“Oh, and I don’t?” you smile, but it’s just as artificial as his words. Kat glowers, and behind you, Suki goes:

“Uh oh…”

“Somethin’ like that.”

With a huff, you snatch him by blond spikes—and, if Kat is even a little tenderheaded as Katsuki is…

You yank and pull upward, and Kat rises with your grip. Yep. “Ow, what the fuck?! Ah—okay, fuck, I’m sorry—”

He hisses, face twisting in agony—and finally, you relent the torture. You let him go with a satisfied smile, and Kat snarls at you, rubbing the soft points of his head.

“What did we learn?”

Suki snickers under his breath. “Fuckin’ nothing.”

Kat scrambles at that, getting to his feet in preparation to attack. Fear flashes across Suki’s face, making you wonder if his statement was supposed to come out quieter, perhaps unheard. He scrambles over the arm of the couch, and you get thrown around in his rush.

“You’re fuckin’ dead meat!” Kat hollers. Suki takes off in a mad dash.

It isn’t before long that they’re chasing each other in circles around the couch, like a pack of wild dogs, snarling and huffing and puffing. (With the occasional spark—which you’re quick to put out.) You watch your movie, and occasionally, them, and eat the majority of the popcorn in the process.

Eventually, they collapse back onto the couch and into their respective sides, twin chests heaving and glistening in sweat until their breath makes the mile long trek to catch up.

“You two done?” You ask, but never take your eyes off the screen. It’s getting to the good part.

Suki nods. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kat snaps, and you double check to make sure he isn’t talking to you (because, if he is—you’re locking him in the basement), but he’s still glaring at Suki like he murdered his family. “You piss me the fuck off.”

“Clearly,” Suki snorts, this time quiet enough for Kat to not hear. Still vaguely out of breath, he squeezes your thigh to get attention, and slings his other arm behind you. “I wan’a kiss. Can I get a kiss, Baby?”

You giggle, because as stated, soft Katsuki is a Katsuki you’re used to having to work for, and then some. His hand lifts to your chin as you say, “Sure, Suki.”

And then, you’re getting snatched back by your pajama shirt, nearly choking in the process with an embarrassing and garbled noise.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not,” Kat grunts, and you nearly fall backwards into his lap. “My girlfriend.”

“Your—” Suki cuts himself off with a scoff, grabbing your hand and pulling you up again—up and away. “One, we’re the same damn person, she’s both our girlfriend. And two, I want my fuckin’ kiss.”

Back.

“Well, that’s too damn bad,” Kat huffs, and you’re yanked again. This is starting to get dizzying. “I don’ want your bitch lips all over her.”

Forth.

“Okay,” Suki chuckles, and you’re tipped forward. Seriously? “And, I don’t want your ugly ass mug anywhere near my girl, so—”

Back.

“Oh, now it’s ‘your girl’—I thought we—”

Forth.

“Yeah. My girl, ‘cuz you don’ even know how to treat her.”

Back—Forth.

“You’re loud, and rude, and angry—”

Back and Forth and Back and Forth.

“Y’don’t appreciate shit that she does for us, and it fuckin’ shows—”

Back and Forth and Back and Forth. Back and Forth and Back.

“Yeah, and she loves me for it anyway, Dipshit—”

Back and Forth and Back and Forth an—

“Can you two quit it!”

When they still, you go tumbling forward and into Suki’s lap—which, Kat doesn’t like very much, and grumbles under his breath about it.

“Sorry, Baby.”

“Fuckin’ what.”

“You guys realize I can kiss both of you, right?” Your words border on exasperated. Kat rolls his eyes.

“Fine—I get first.”

“No, I do!”

“I will blast you to goddamn smithereens.”

“Fine! At least I get my fuckin’ kiss—”

“Oh my god,” you groan aloud, running hands over your face and sinking deeper into the couch. It’s endless. “Y’know what? No. Stand up.”

You pat both of their backs to urge them upwards, and they follow. Standing side by side and watching you—and if you thought that one set of Katsuki’s eyes were intimidating enough, try two.

“Okay, Suki—you asked first, so you go first.”

Kat grumbles under his breath, something about ‘well if I fuckin’ knew that, woulda asked ages ago,’ but relents relatively quiet. Suki bends over with a smile, cradling the side of your face to lift it higher.

“Thank you, Baby.”

Katsuki’s lips always feel warm, and Suki’s are no different—they move slow and soft and patient, like he knows what’s coming, when it’s coming, so might as well take his time until he can see the finish line. He inhales like he could breathe you in, and the hand cupping your face tightens with want and satisfaction.

When Suki pulls away, you’re both breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours. “Missed you.”

But, before you can respond—

Suki is shoved out of the way, out of frame, and in comes Kat, who would be on fire if he could. “Y’call that a fuckin’ kiss? Watch and learn, Loser.”

Kat grabs you by the chin and kisses you with weight. He presses into you with his upper body, using a free hand to rest on the back of the couch, and placing a knee between your legs. Kat kisses you into the cushions and out of any breath you have left, leaving you scrambling for air.

“How was that,” Kat asks once pulling away, dragging his thumb across your kiss-swollen lips. You swoon, before remembering that this Katsuki is downright evil.

“It was…um…” you try to say fine, try to say okay, I’ve had better, but the weight of two intense stares fill your veins and cloud your judgement. And, just overall ability to speak as a whole.

“See Dumbass, what’d I say?” Kat hollers over his shoulder, standing up to glare at his doppelgänger. “Kiss her right and she fuckin’ melts.”

Suki bristles at that, but doesn’t bite back with words. Instead, he quietly assumes Kat’s place with a hum, thumbing the highest point of your cheek as he looks down. He studies you.

“Mmm…looks pretty solid to me,” Suki mutters, tilting your head every which way, like he’s trying to find something that’s not there. Kat yells from the back, ‘shitty ass joke!’ “Wha’d’ya think, Baby? Who’s better?”

“Um,” you swallow, and try to stifle your inner goblin. “I don’t…I think I’ll need more than that to…y’know…know?”

And, yet. The goblin comes out, anyway. (At least she’s respectful, this time.)

Suki teeters his head in consideration, and Kat snorts from behind him. “Fuckin’ pervert.”

You gawk. Because, like, yes, but also, “how am I supposed to know based off a three second kiss?”

“Valid question.”

“Listen—I don’t know about Mr. Chastity over here, but mine was definitely longer than three seconds.”

Suki gives him a look over his shoulder, and though you can’t see it, you can guess based off the way he goes, “Seriously?”

“I said what I said.”

You see the tail end of Suki rolling his eyes as he turns back to you, and the look of pure annoyance on his face shifts to one of affection. His thumb brushes your cheek again, as he leans forward, close enough for you to feel his breath across your lips.

“Well, Baby? Should we prove that fucker wrong?”

But, you’re not paying attention to much else other than the way Suki’s lips round and soften to form words that you barely hear. So, you just nod, let out a quiet ‘uh huh,’ and let him close the distance.

Suki kisses you with more passion this time around, but less vigor and aggression than Kat. You feel comfortable and grounded, and gasp, hands finding the middle of his shirt as he tilts his head to the side. You don’t get kissed stupid like you do with Kat—like the earth got flipped upside down and you just have to deal with it—but held and loved, and that’s stupefying enough.

Suki moans into your mouth, making your body run both hot and cold. It takes ages and alcohol to convince Katsuki to make a sound, to stop holding himself back, but this one might not. This one might not, and God, if that doesn’t make your head spin.

A tongue licks the seam of your lips but never pushes further than that, just enough for you to be aware of the threat and the want, but never enough to give. You whine, pushing deeper—and Suki smiles against your lips like that was exactly what he wanted, before his hand encompasses the front of your neck to squeeze, restricting your airflow just enough.

When he pulls away, the hand around your neck slides to your collarbones, and your eyes flutter shut. It continues to snake lower, past the waistband of your sweats and even lower than that, until two fingers run along your folds. They’re gone as quick as they came, and Suki pulls them out to reveal—

“See? She’s soaked.”

Kat growls, but before he can say anything, Suki tucks both fingers into his mouth and sucks. It’s obscene, and you think you see his tongue poke through at some point.

But then, he’s getting shoved in the shoulder, falling into the couch and more importantly, away from you, as Kat takes his place between your legs. Before you have time to protest (which—you won’t, but you might’ve for a second, for like, posterity) Kat is shoving your sweats down to your ankles, clearly tired of playing fair.

“I’m sick of his shit,” he grumbles, shifting your hips forward until you’re nearly laying flat. “Aren’t you sick of his shit, Princess?”

You don’t really know what to say to that. Luckily, you’re not given much time to—Kat sticks his tongue out and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit, and dragging it back down.

“Fuckin’—take your goddamn time,” Suki growls, and Kat just rolls his eyes and continues his ministrations. “I worked hard to get her that fuckin’ wet, y’know—”

Kat only pulls his mouth away to give his double an incredulous look, pointing at your pussy like you’re not even there. “Oh, you think you did this.”

“I know I did,” Suki snarls at the slight, and when Kat chuckles around your clit, it makes your thigh seize. “But, fine—fuck her dry like an animal. See if I care when she comes runnin’ to me ‘cuz y’don’t know what the fuck you’re doin’.”

Kat doesn’t grace his words with more words, just flips a middle finger in his direction before that hand finds your thigh. Only to spread your legs wider, broaden his plate, and you nearly keel over when he sucks too hard.

“He bein’ too rough?” Suki coos, grabbing you by the jaw and running a thumb along it’s sharpest point. “’S okay if you can’t cum, Baby—he has absolutely no finesse.”

Suki rips Kat away from you by the hair, his lips flushed and glossed from you, and yanks him out of the way. Kat snarls and lets his palms pop, but one halfhearted glare from you, and they fizzle right out.

“He’s being a dick!” Kat defends, gesturing at the perpetrator with open hands—said perpetrator simply settles between your legs, licking his lips. Kat is ignored.

Suki moves a lot slower than Kat does—still hot and heavy, but languid, like he knows you’re not going anywhere any time soon. He licks you up and down, avoiding places that would do anything more than simmer. But, even low heat will eventually come to a boil, and your breath hitches when a finger brushes your entrance.

Kat yawns. “I’m fuckin’ bored.”

Suki rolls his eyes and can’t help but pull away, get another word in—but his finger finally quits (some of) the teasing and plunges right in. You shiver, then melt. “Well, that’s too damn bad.”

“Yeah, it is—make her scream or somethin’ before I fuckin’ fall asleep.”

“Oh, please fall asleep,” Suki insists, but never takes his eyes away from you—your pussy—as he berates his double, too fascinated by the way you squeeze and relax around him. “I’d love if you fell asleep—I could be both of us, and she wouldn’t even notice.”

Kat barks out a laugh, loud and sarcastic. “You get mad at me for bein’ rude, then you call her stupid? Some white knight.”

“No,” Suki says, and adds another finger and curls them upward—it makes your leg kick involuntarily, and it probably would’ve done some damage if he didn’t catch it in time. “I’m callin’ you basic. Bitch.”

“Oh, you fuckin—”

“Guys! Please!” You scream at the ceiling. You’re exhausted and annoyed, semi-horny and so far away from the finish line. “Stop arguing—do you want me to cum or not?” 

And, well. That shuts them up quicker than you expected.

“Absolutely, Baby.”

“Ugh—fuckin’ whatever.”

Suki focuses on you, after that. Kat tries to distract him with playground insults, tugging at his hair like a childhood bully, but the most he gets in response is a middle finger. Suki hoists your thigh onto his shoulder, and, when you wiggle too much, uses a free hand to pin your waist in place.

It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time until you feel the fire in your belly turn dangerous, like wind carrying bonfire embers into trees to ignite them. It’s not your fault—there’s two pair of eyes when there should be one, equally eager, equally fascinated. Kat catches your chin and pulls you in for a rough kiss, and Suki’s eyes flutter when you squeeze around him, like he’s fingering himself and feeling every curve of his fingertips.

You squirm, understanding the specifics of the feeling that builds and hating them. “Ah fuck—think I’m gonna…?”

“Squirt?” Suki finishes with a knowing smile, like that’s what he’s been aiming for this whole time, and you bristle.

“Fuck you,” you pant, but it get infinitely harder to argue as your vision starts to blur with your breathing. “Yes, Asshole.”

“Hot,” Kat nods in agreement, and if you had the wherewithal to, you’d chuck a pillow in his face. Again.

“You know I hate this.” You give Suki an half-hearted glare, and he fights the smile growing on his face. “Why do you do this to me.”

“Because it’s hot,” Suki hums, and honestly, he deserves a pillow to the face as well. “C’mon, Baby—relax, let it happen.”

He starts stroking your thigh like that’s going to help any. It doesn’t, and the stick you use is no longer good enough to defend your impending orgasm, which is horrible, horrible news for the couch cushion. You’ll need to flip it over. Again.

(So—maybe you should just buy a new cushion, at this point. And avoid sitting in your usual spot on the couch.)

While the orgasm doesn’t catch you by surprise, the strength of it does. Your thighs squeeze around Suki’s head as much as they’re able—as much as he allows—and a hand finds Kat’s to hold on tight and squeeze. You feel Kat fall into your shoulder, or maybe you fall into his. Your body burns, buzzes, anything that starts with a b that sounds hot. You’re hot. On fire, actually.

You don’t open your eyes until the feeling subsides—in time to watch Suki pull away, face soaked, and the couch cushion even more so. Kat takes two fingers and runs them along your folds, only to dip them into his mouth and hum with contentment.

“Sweet, right?”

“Fuck yeah.”

And you, feeling the wet cushion under your back, haven’t decided whether you’re going to smother both (?) your boyfriends in their sleep.

(You make both of them sleep on the couch that night—the wet couch that’s their fault. Kat doesn’t get it, he didn’t even do anything. Suki accepts his fate with a knowing grin.)

© mamashima/pumaya. do not edit, translate or copy my work without my permission. do not use for ai. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

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