•trent alexander-arnold•

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By avsensio

The thing was simple your boyfriend was failing school, and he had only one week to catch up with all class following material of the whole year, that he wasn't even attending. The teachers weren't too friendly to the students who often left their classes not attending the lectures, especially your boyfriend. Giving him more material to be worked on, more homework to do and more supply to memorize and the problem with your boyfriend was: he had a concentration of the squirrel, everything that was useless for him came in one ear just to fall out the other one next second, his concentration was shit, if it wasn't you, nothing seemed to matter to Trent expect you and you had to change it in less than a week. Which for you was weird because when does football players suck at concentration, right?
You suggested to him some help with the subject you liked or you were good at, and obviously, Trent was more than happy to agree with you because he simply couldn't say no to his girlfriend and her good intentions. But every time you and Trent tried to learn something new, he did everything to switch the boring study night into something more interesting, the books always ended up on the floor right beside the pair of your ripped panties.
Credit days were fast approaching and Trent was still more interested in your body anatomy which he didn't even have to revise for ending it with a solid 4 mark, not even making you surprised. But you had to do something, and boy, you came prepared for the next study night.
This day was reserved for your house, you knew that studying was the last thing in your boyfriend's mind when you told him that your parents are leaving town to visit your aunt who just gave birth. But you had to try, using force when it comes to that point. You fixed up the falling material of your boyfriend jacket hanging off of your arm as you opened the door for him, you smiled at him mischievously, when his eyes wandered on your body, scanning you up and down already has that glint in his dark eyes. You tried to put as many clothes as you possibly could, adding to this leather jacket that he often left at your house, you felt perfect. This was the perfect opportunity.
You let him into your room, quickly closing your doors behind you. Your body was caged against the side of the wall in less than a second, Trent lips already marking the uncovered skin on your neck.
"No, no, no," you tasked him, pushing him back a little, already smirking at his confused face. "Let's play a game, and when you win, everything–" you said showing down your body referring yourself, "will be yours, baby," you whispered loudly, taking a step into his direction, your hearts pulled together as you quickly kissed his pouted lips.
Trent stumbled back, his knees buckling under his own weight, when they met the side of your bed, already leaning down on the soft mattress. You stand in between his legs, crouching down to sit on one of his knees, pushing yourself closer to his chest for a moment.
"One good answer equals one piece of clothing down," you whispered mischievously.
"Quick math, I get it," Trent grumbled under his breath, sticking his long, clever fingers into the nape of your neck, tugging your head back, so your throat is on full display to him. (you can already tell Trent has a chocking fetish - bitch fight me)
You stated by purposely humping yourself on his left knee a few times just for fun, just to back up to the other end of your room, tugging his heavily leather jacket off for the starters.
"Norman invasion on England?" you asked, already wrapping your fingers around the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off.
His eyes bulged out for a moment right after you can hear quick "Fuck" under his breath.
"1066," he said confidentially, leaning down on the bed, holding himself just on his elbows, ready to enjoy the show, you rolled your eyes at that cocky smirk on his face, pulling the shirt over your head, letting it fall onto the floor right beside your legs.
"A great card of liberty?" Trent just smirked at you again, showing you that he knows the answer, making you undo your dark ripped jeans, rolling them down your legs stepping out of them in the process. You carefully watched your boyfriend, he was ready to pounce on you, a slight bulge was visible inside his black jeans as he slowly started to massage it through the material of his pants.
"Good job, baby," you said quickly, shocked by his knowledge. "Two more questions right, and I'll be yours," you purred at him. "Tell me the date of the defeat of the great armada,"
He shouted the right answer before you could even think of it, leaving you no choice to just unclasp the material of your bra, letting your breast spill from it on his full display, you threw the black lacy bra into his direction.
"My cock is so ready for you," he muttered opening his pants open tugging on the waistband of his boxers, his dick slapping against his abdomen in the process of letting it free.
You just licked your lips at that sight. "I think you don't have problems with history," you said, leaning your hand on your hip.
"Yeah, I have a problem with my dick right now, not fucking history," he growled, throwing his pants off suddenly standing up from the bed, moving towards you.
Hands wrapping against the back of her thighs pulling her up onto his chest.
"I think I know how to help you," she murmured, leaning her body weight back so she can grab his cock from under her, palming it few times before Trent pushed away from the material of her panties away from the part he desired the most.

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